Third Sunday in June
Uncle Heb left early this mornin’, takin’ the Missus to visit the Ambrose Plantation. They’ll be gone all day. Rufus talked on Jonah. I liked that story, but I think it would be scary livin’ in the belly of a big fish for three days and nights.
“We might find ourselves in the belly of a big fish at any time — but we must not be afraid. We must stay prayed up. Stay strong. Our faith will turn sour on the fish’s stomach and it will have to deliver us — free us … Let us pray.”
I got on to Rufus’s Bible stories today. All the weeks he been leadin’ us in service, he been tellin’ us two stories in one. His stories are ’bout Bible times, but they is ’bout our times, too. Jonah in the belly of a big fish, Daniel and the lions, and David and the giant is like us bein’ in slavery, facin’ the mas’ers. But God delivered Daniel, David, and Jonah and he’ll deliver us one day. Rufus can’t say all that right out or Mas’ Henley will make us stop havin’ service. But Rufus tells us that in other ways. I didn’t understand the stories at first, but now I do. For the first time, I said “Amen” and knew why I was sayin’ it.
Monday
I went to the stables to visit Hince for a few minutes and to take a closer look at Dancer. The horse is every bit as fine as Hince said — not like any other. It would take a good rider like Hince to hold him steady though.
“A sure winner!” Hince say real proud-like.
“And he’s mine,” said William comin’ through the door, dressed to ride. “Saddle him up.”
William has been ridin’ since he could straddle a horse. But anybody can see that Dancer is too much horse for him.
“William,” said Hince, patient-like. “Dancer is not ready for you yet. Let me work with him a little ’fore you take him out.”
The boy whined and fretted, but at last, he went on and rode Diamond. Still there was somethin’ in the boy’s voice that let us know he was bent, bound, and sure to ride Dancer.
Last week in June
There won’t be any more lessons until after the 4th of July holiday.
I hate holidays.
Every day there is somethin’ for us to do. We’re either cleanin’ the house, fixin’ the meals, servin’ the meals, cleanin’ up after the meals. No sooner than we’re finished, it’s time to start all over again.
When guests come, it’s double work. We have to tote hot water for the guest’s baths, empty the water after the baths, and don’t forget cleanin’ chamber pots and makin’ beds at first light in the mornin’. That’s why I hate holidays.
Friday, July 1
Today Spicy and I were scrubbin’ floors, gettin’ ready for the 4th, but movin’ like inch worms creepin’ along. All of a sudden, Hince hopped up on the window sill from the porch side. Almost scared us to death. “Okay, girls, why you movin’ so slow? Get busy.”
“When did we get a new mas’er?” Spicy said, bein’ sassy.
“I’d be a poor mas’er to own the two of you,” he said with that devilish look in his eyes. “Clotee, you aine big as a chickadee. So, I wouldn’t sell you.” He turned to Spicy. “And you there, gal, with the dark eyes. I wouldn’t sell you either!” Then he added, “I’d just keep you for myself.”
I could feel Spicy bein’ happy, even though she held her head down.
“You like my brother-friend, don’t you?” I asked Spicy when Hince was gone.
“He’s not so bad,” she say, and went back to scrubbin’ the floors. This time she was a-movin’ along faster, and hummin’.
July 2
Hince brought Spicy a handful of flowers this mornin’. He shoved them at her from the kitchen door. He aine never done nothin’ like that ’fore. “For you,” he said. ’Fore Spicy could answer, he ducked away and was gone.
He missed seein’ the big grin that lit up her whole face.
Aunt Tee just shook her head and poured some water in a cup and handed it to Spicy for the flowers. We both been teasin’ her all day, ’bout bein’ courted.
July 4
Sunday rest was canceled for everybody. Too much work to do to get ready for the 4th.
I’m so tired. We got our regular work to do and some more — I don’t know what day it was. I was up all night yesterday, workin’ in the kitchen with Aunt Tee. Aggie and Wook came to help. Missy sees after the baby and helped out, too, when he was asleep. I did all the fetchin’ — runnin’ from the springhouse to the smokehouse, to the Big House, to the house garden, to the barn and back. “Get me this” and “Get me that.” I am writin’ this late at night. Ready to crawl into a hole and sleep, but I cain’t. Now its time to start cleanin’ up.
July 6
Things are finally gettin’ back to normal. It will take me days to write ’bout all that happened on the 4th.
Guests started comin’ to Belmont early Monday mornin’, campin’ out on the grounds. Miz Lilly’s daughter Clarissa and family were the first to arrive.
Clarissa’s husband is Mr. Richard Davies, a lawyer with a fine firm in the city. He’s full of seriousness and she’s a ball of nerves. I like her though. Maybe it’s ’cause she’s like a scared rabbit, ’bout ready to run for cover. Not at all like her mama. I can’t say much for Miz Clarissa’s two sons. Richard, Jr., and Wilbur, who are close to the same age as William, keep somethin’ goin’ all the time. When William gets with them, they spell T-R-O-U-B-L-E. Trouble.
Soon as Richard and Wilbur set first foot out of the carriage, William came tearin’ out of the house like it was on fire. Then all three of them began runnin’ through the house, screamin’ and yellin’, out the back door, leapin’ over the hedges, trampin’ in the flower beds. Their mama just looked on like it’s as natural as the risin’ sun. Nobody ’spects better of ’em, so they act that way.
By mid-mornin’ on the 4th, many more guests had come. Mas’ Henley tried to be real gentlemanlike, greetin’ people, welcomin’ them, shakin’ hands. But no matter how much he tries to look the part of a real gentleman, he’s still seen as a gambler who got lucky enough to marry a woman with money.
Miz Lilly, on the other hand, was like a fly, flutterin’ ’bout in that ugly green dress. She was lightin’ just long enough to say a few words then off to another guest. At times like these it’s hard to see her slappin’ us or yellin’ at us ’til the veins in her neck bulge out like she’d been doin’ all mornin’. My face is still stingin’ where she slapped me for walkin’ too slow. Walkin’ too slow. I was so tired I was glad to be walkin’ at all.
Everybody ate like dogs, gobblin’ up pots of smoked ham and beans, fresh greens, smothered chicken, gravy, and rice, and all kinds of pies and cakes. Nobody ever thought ’bout how hard we’d all had to work to fix it. They just ate.
On full stomachs, Mas’ Henley didn’t have no more sense than to call everybody together to hear Cleophus Tucker, the man who Mas’ Henley wanted people to vote for. Mr. Tucker’s talk was full of too many words, but people were nice ’bout pretendin’ to listen. I was half asleep, until I heard the word abolitionist, then I listened real close.
“I, for one, am tired of abolitionists tellin’ me what I should do with my slaves. I’m tired of lawless meddlers comin’ into our communities and spiritin’ away our nigras on this so-called Underground Railroad.”
It felt good to know these words, but I still didn’t get a full understandin’ of what they meant.
July 7
Pickin’ up from yesterday …
Hince was set to ride Dancer against a horse named Wind Away, brought up from Atlanta, that was supposed to be the fastest horse on four feet. Just ’bout everybody bet on the Atlanta mount.
I overheared Mas’ Henley whisper to Hince, “You’d better ride him to win, boy, or else.” Hince laughed in a devil-may-care way and spurred Dancer onto the field.
“Come on, Hince,” I shouted, knowin’ that if he lost, he’d have Mas’ Henley to reckon with. All the folks from the Quarters was pullin’ for him to win, includin’ Missy.
Aunt Tee screamed so, she plum lost her voice. But it was Spicy — Spicy who out-shouted us all! I wasn’t the only one to notice it either. I caught Missy givin’ Spicy a mean, mean look.
Hince didn’t need our cheerin’, ’cause he won with room to spare. Mas’ Henley carried on so, braggin’ and all, folks started findin’ excuses to leave.
In the far away I just heard the sound of a train. I wonder is it on the Underground Railroad. I could see in my head slaves on the train headin’ for the Philadelphia, the New York, and the Boston. The picture made me smile. One day I want to ride that train.
July 10
Clarissa and the boys have been here since the 4th. They go home today. Nobody will be unhappy to see the backs of their heads. While I served breakfast to William and his nephews, I heard William talkin’ ’bout ridin’ Dancer by himself. “When you ride up in front of our house in Richmond, then we’ll believe he’s your horse,” said Richard.
I hope William is not goin’ to be silly enough to ride Dancer that far by himself. Should I tell Miz Lilly, so maybe she’ll speak to him ’bout it?
Second Monday in July
All of the guests are gone home now. We spent the mornin’ straightenin’ up the guest rooms. It’s sick hot, but no matter, I have to weed the house garden. The hat Hince gave me really helps. I hardly ever take it off.
Somethin’ was eatin’ up my tomato vines. Uncle Heb say put tobacco juice on the leaves. I’d seen him use it before on his roses. So I bit off a piece of tobacco and chewed it to make the juice. Lord, I swallowed some. My head started swimmin’, and my stomeck heaved up everythin’ I had eaten for breakfast — two days ago.
I’ve never been so sick in my whole life. Thought for a minute, I was dyin’. How can anybody chew tobacco? I won’t ever again. The worms can have the tomatoes.
Tuesday
I saw William down at the stables. He was talkin’ to some of the hands. I thought maybe I should tell Miz Lilly what I overheared.
“I think he may try to ride Dancer over to Richmond,” I told her.
“Don’t be foolish, Clotee. William wouldn’t try to do a dangerous thing like that.” She made me brush her hair before she sent me away. Maybe she’s right. But somehow I don’t think so.
Early Thursday mornin’
We polished silver all day. Miz Lilly went over every tray, pitcher, bowl, and candlestick. She found one little spot on a silver tray that I had cleaned and she slapped me so hard I saw stars. I don’t get hit often, but when I do, I try to be like Spicy and not let her see me cry. “Spicy is bein’ a bad inflewance on you,” she said, and slapped Spicy, too. Miz Lilly is awful ’cause she know we cain’t hit her back. If one of us whacked her back across her face, I bet she wouldn’t be so quick to hit. I got to be careful not to put ideas like hittin’ the Missus in my head. Aunt Tee say if you think ’bout hittin’ back, you’ll soon strike-out, hit back. And to fight a missus or a mas’er means death for sure.
Next evenin’
Durin’ dinner, Spicy and I served hot bread and poured water for the Henleys. We came in on Mas’ Henley and Miz Lilly fussin’ ’bout William gettin’ somethin’ called a tooter. When Mas’ Henley said no, Miz Lilly would not let it be.
As the word-fight ’tween them heated up, Spicy took off the soup bowls, and I served the fried chicken. Miz Lilly won that battle.
Later, the three of us — Spicy, Aunt Tee, and me had our supper together. Whenever Aunt Tee fries chicken for the Henleys, she fries the chicken neck, gizzard, liver, and the-last-part that goes over the fence, and makes a thick brown gravy for us. Eat that with some biscuits and honey — good eatin’.
Spicy and me had Aunt Tee bent over laughin,’ pokin’ fun at Miz Lilly’s faked faintin’ spells. Spicy did a perfect Miz Lilly swoon. “Ohhhh, he’ll be the first Monroe not to get into Overton School!” I played the Mas’er. “My mind is made up — William will not have a tooter.” Then I belched, and raised up a hip and pretended to pass gas.
“You girls is a mess,” Aunt Tee say, hangin’ up the dish towel and blowin’ out the kitchen candles. I stretched out on my straw-filled pallet next to Spicy.
“Anybody know what a tooter is?” I had been waitin’ for the right moment to ask. Nobody knew. I’ll add it to my list of words. I figured it had somethin’ to do with William’s schoolin’. Wonder will it mean I cain’t get no more learnin’?
Day later
Spicy and I spent the evenin’ workin’ in the house garden with Uncle Heb. We helped him tie strips of old rags on a measure of line to shoo the critters away. He told us stories ’bout a spider-man that could talk. Uncle Heb say his mama told him these old spider stories. He say his mama come from Afric. Say white men fell upon them one day and threw nets over her and some other girls. Then they put them on a boat and brought them ’cross the big water. Say that’s how all our peoples got here. We come here from Afric on white men’s boats.
I once heared Aunt Tee talk ’bout the Afric woman named Belle who taught her ’bout root doctorin’ and birthin’. I aine never seen nobody that was natural-born Afric. I’d like to though.
Monday, July 18, 1859
I found out what a tooter is. It is a tutor. Miz Lilly wrote it for William. He’s a teacher. Heared Miz Lilly tellin’ William durin’ lesson that his name is Ely Harms. And he’s comin’ here in August. He’s comin’ from a place called Washington, D.C. I know from lessons that’s where the President of the land lives in a big white house. Reckon does this Mr. Harms know the President?
Miz Lilly say the tutor will stay here on the place and his only job will be to teach William. I hope I’ll get to fan them durin’ their lessons, so I can go on learnin’.
Wednesday
The Missus has had Spicy and me busy for the past few days cleanin’ her own personal room. We stayed busy for hours, scrubbin’ the floors, beatin’ rugs, airin’ mattresses, and restuffin’ pillows.
At the end of the day, Missus called me to her side. “You know that your mama and I were the best of friends?” she said. “You’re smart, just like her.”
“Why’d you let her go?” I don’t know what come over me. Aunt Tee is right. If you think on a thing, you’ll end up doin’ it. How many times had I thought about askin’ her that question? Now I’d dared to ask it. The words just popped right out of my mouth. It’s a wonder she didn’t slap me. Instead she just gave me a warnin’. “Must not be sassy, Clotee.” Then she studied my face. I was sure my eyes had turned into windows and she could see all the letters and words tumblin’ ’round in my brain. So I closed my eyes, too scared to move.
“Yes. You’re different from the others. I never know quite what’s goin’ on inside that little head of yours. But it makes me wonder.”
Miz Lilly is scary like a bad dream.
Later
Come to find out, Miz Lilly promised to give Spicy the same white handkerchief with purple and yellow pansies on each corner if she brought her things ’bout me.
“I’m not a tattler,” she said. “Besides that’s the ugliest handkerchief I ever seen!”
So Miz Lilly is lookin’ for somethin’ on me, now. I trust Spicy not to tell. But who else has she tempted? I got to be so careful. I just wrote D-A-N-G-E-R. I see Miz Lilly’s face.
Thursday
At least I’m learnin’ from Miz Lilly. I learned today that there’s no such word as knowed. It’s knew. I never knew that. I do now.
Fourth Saturday in July
Somethin’ awful done happened. I knew it. Knew it. William has left here, ridin’ Dancer over to Richmond — showin’ off.
It started when Hince and Mas’ Henley were gone ’way to a race. William went to Uncle Heb, sayin’ his daddy had said he could ride Dancer. I told Miz Lilly he’d do it, but she didn’t b’lieve me. So, Uncle Heb saddled up Dancer. Last we seen of the boy, he shot out of the stables and down the drive. I got a real bad feelin’ aine nothin’ good comin’ out of this for nobody.
Ea
rly the next mornin’
Miz Lilly sent Rufus and other riders out to follow William, but couldn’t no horse in the county catch Dancer. All we could do was wait. Not long, the horse came trottin’ back up the drive, draggin’ William’s body like a sack of rags. It was clear the boy had fallen off, but his foot had gotten caught.
Everythin’ that happened next is a blur. Somebody went to fetch Dr. Lamb — but it took over two hours for him to get to Belmont. Meanwhile, Aunt Tee did everything she could to help. Spicy and I stood in the shadows of William’s room, ready to fetch and hold whatever the doctor needed.
I heard Miz Lilly ask, “Will he live?” I prayed that William would live. I hope God will forgive my selfish reason. I prayed William would live ’cause I knew Mas’ Henley would make our lives miserable if his son died.
“Oh, yes,” the doctor said, pattin’ Miz Lilly on her arm. “He’ll live. William’s a tough little character.” I felt better. Miz Lilly’s shoulders relaxed, too. She looked at me and for a second I looked straight into her eyes. I dropped my eyes quickly, ’cause we aine s’posed to look Mas’er and Missus in the eye. But for that quick second I seen somethin’. I seen that she knew that I knew that I had warned her ’bout this, and she had not listened. She was thinkin’ ’bout it, too.
“But,” added Dr. Lamb. We all listened to what was comin’ next. Sadness clouded the doctor’s face. “I’m not so sure William will ever walk again.”
A Picture of Freedom Page 5
