Billy Boy (19 page)

A voice shouted. “Hold on just a minute, over there!”

Billy stopped suddenly, his heart thudding against his chest. From the corner of his eye, he saw the provost marshal staring in his direction. “Miss Anna …”

“We must not act in haste,” she whispered. She turned and nodded her head at the provost marshal, tucking her arm around Billy in a casual gesture, and kept walking.

“Miss Anna,” Billy said, barely able to choke out the words, “he's coming our way.”

“I said hold on!” the provost marshal shouted. Suddenly, he was rushing toward them. “Langford! Burns! It's them all right—they match the description the provost marshal in Endicott Mills telegraphed to us. Over here!”

“Dear God! They are looking for thee, Billy!” Anna's face paled in the yellow light. “Thee must run! Run to the river and hide there!”

“Miss Anna!”

Anna yanked her arm away from the crook of Billy's elbow and gave him a shove. “Go! There is no time! Remember what I told thee. Elijah, run!”

The trunk toppled from Elijah's shoulders.

“What the bejesus!” The provost marshal stopped suddenly, spun around, and shouted over his shoulder. “Langford! Burns! They're on the run!”

Startled travelers scurried out of their way as Billy and Elijah sprinted down the length of the platform. Billy leaped over a trunk, nearly stumbled, caught his balance, and ran out onto the gravel beside the tracks. Elijah ran past him and, turning away from the rails, disappeared between the cars.

“Billy, suh! Come!” He caught up with Elijah and they scrambled onto the far rails and ran into the starless night just as two guards wielding guns ran out of the station.

“The river, Elijah!” Billy screamed. “Miss Anna said run to the river!”

Behind them, shots fired in the darkness.

Billy followed as Elijah leaped over the tracks and crashed into dense thicket. He heard the guards scrambling noisily over the couplings, then the crush of their boots smashing through
the bushes. Stealing a glance over his shoulder, Billy lost his footing and fell, his knee landing on a rock. Pain shot through him, and he rolled over onto his back, his hand clutching his knee. “Elijah!”

They could hear the rasp of heavy breathing as Elijah reached down and pulled Billy to his feet, urging him forward. The pain when Billy's foot touched the ground was excruciating, and he cried out. “Can't bend my knee!”

The shouts and stomping boots were getting closer.

“Billy, suh, get down on your belly and don't make no sound,” Elijah whispered as he crouched down on his knees. Suddenly all went quiet. They could still hear the guards breathing, only inches away. Silently, Elijah's fingers fanned the ground. He clawed a stone from the soil, pulled back his arm, and heaved it toward the tracks.

Glass shattered.

Boots scraped in front of Elijah.

“They're back at the train! Broke a window!”

Dirt sprayed Elijah's face as the guard retreated.

“You step light as a feather now, Billy, suh,” Elijah whispered as he pulled Billy to his feet. He wrapped Billy's arm around his shoulder and moved into the cover of the trees. Pine needles cushioned their steps as they darted around the trunks, hiding, listening for returning footsteps in the pitch black. Every few seconds Elijah stopped to listen.

In a short distance they emerged onto a wide stretch of tangled brush and cattails. Their boots sank in the soft earth. Elijah pushed ahead of Billy, staying low, motioning for him to follow as they worked their way cautiously through the thicket, ever listening.

The underbrush opened to a muddied riverbank rife with litter. Squealing rats scattered through the rotting garbage, trash, and broken glass. The air was foul. Billy placed a hand over his nose.

“Billy, suh, we stay here for a time.” Elijah helped Billy settle onto the ground, pushing away the litter, tossing handfuls of sand over the stinking debris around them. It was eerily quiet as Billy and Elijah sat and stared at the Schuylkill River. A lone steamer, a side-wheeler, floated by, the ship's lanterns fluttering in the cold wind. In the near distance, a steam locomotive whistled.

“Elijah ain't never gon' ride no train again, no suh,” he said in a half-whisper. He leaned back on his elbows. “Billy, suh, you take good care of Elijah on the train.”

“Weren't nuthin',” Billy said, rubbing the swelling on his knee.

“You done good, Billy, suh.” Elijah slapped him lightly on the back. He stood and kicked the sand with his boots, finally bending over and picking up a long, thick stick. Breaking the stick's jagged ends, he handed it to Billy. “Stick help you walk. We move on now.”

As they walked beside the river, the gaslights from the nearby row houses cast a dim reflection on its dark surface. A few steps in front of Billy, Elijah came upon an overturned boat, its planks rotting and covered with muck and debris.

“Mebbe we could hide under here,” Billy said.

Elijah kicked the rotted wood. A pack of large rats scurried from underneath the bow and scattered across the mud. “Billy, suh, we find us another place to hide,” said Elijah.

“But Miss Anna said to hide near the river.”

Elijah shook his head. “Billy, suh, we on our own now. We needin' to get to Fifth Street and find Mr. Still.”

“How we gonna find Fifth Street?” Billy asked, alarm in his voice.

“Elijah don't know yet.”

“Then we should hide here. Maybe Miss Anna will come.”

“We can't hide here, Billy, suh,” Elijah said. “Missus or no, it real bad here. Elijah go and figger things out like he promise.”

“You mean like Harry?”

“Yes, suh. Just like Harry.”

They moved on, away from the water's edge, past heaps of rubbish. Slowly they pushed through the woods, emerging finally onto a narrow, cobbled street lined with row houses. Chimneys spewed ash and smoke. Keeping to the shadows, Billy dug his walking stick into the cobbled cracks and limped along behind Elijah. They cautiously crossed a half-dozen intersections, at last finding a tiny alley, free of the debris that lined the small back streets. They scrambled down the narrow passageway, passing under an arch with open iron gates.

The alley opened into a church courtyard. Elijah glanced around. High walls enclosed it, hiding it from the street. The church was dark. He touched Billy's shoulder and pointed to the wooden stairs near the church's back door. “Billy, suh, under those stairs—this be a good place to hide.”

Billy nodded. His knee still throbbed with pain and he was eager to get off his feet. The ground under the stairs was dry and offered some protection from the chilling air. They huddled next to each other. “By thunder, it's cold, Elijah.”

“It be all right, Billy, suh. In the morning, we find Fifth Street where the other nigguhs be.”

“Miss Johanna said it ain't right, you callin' yourself that.”

“Then colored folks.”

“You thinkin' Miss Anna might be there?” Billy asked hopefully.

“Missus Anna be lookin' for us, Billy, suh. Don't you worry none.”

“We gonna see us the North Star again, you thinkin'?”

“Billy, suh, you go on and sleep now.”

When Billy awoke it was still dark, but he knew dawn was not far away. He moved his leg, relieved that the pain in his knee had lessened to a faint, dull ache. He stayed quiet, not yet ready to awaken Elijah.

If he tried real hard, he could almost see the rooster stirring in the barn at home, waking with the sun. For sure Pa and Jamie would be milking the cows and sending them off to pasture. And Ma in the kitchen, most like. He imagined a plate of buttermilk pancakes dripping with chunks of creamy butter and thick maple syrup.

Elijah turned and moaned in his sleep. What would happen to them today? What if he never saw Elijah again? Maybe Elijah would come to the farm instead of Canada—maybe even stay. Then Jamie would have another brother. And Jamie could teach Elijah checkers. Thing is, Billy thought, Elijah would whip Jamie good. But, he reminded himself, Elijah would need the black checkers to win. And the black ones were always Jamie's.

He might never see Elijah again. He might never see Harry again.

He remembered the night in Camp King when Harry told him he wished he was as tall as Billy. Harry was the first real friend he had ever had. For a long time, he had wondered why Harry wanted to be his friend. Then Ma told Billy that Harry had had a little sister named Nora, who fell off her horse when she was five, and hit her head hard. After that, Nora never talked again, and was no longer able to do most things by herself. It was Harry who took care of her, did nearly everything
for his little sister. Three years later Nora took a fever and died. Ma said Harry learned to have a bigger heart for special folks. Said Harry wanted to be Billy's friend because he was special in his own way, too.

Leighton and Josh had never poked fun at Billy like the others, but they weren't his friends—not 'til Harry came along. Then with the Awkward Squad and all, he and Leighton took a liking to one another. It seemed to Billy that Leighton's heart went and got bigger, just like Harry's. He was glad that he and Leighton had become friends. Besides, the sergeant major had always kept Harry busy with extra chores. The other privates said Harry was finding favor with the sergeant. He guessed Harry was turning out to be a right smart soldier.

As for Billy—he just couldn't wait to get home.

Chapter 20

L
ying on his back, looking up at the plank-board steps above him, Billy rubbed his hands against the cold. Elijah stirred, poked his head out from under the stairs, and peered into the courtyard. The day was dull and gray, the air thick with mist.

“Billy, suh,” Elijah said after a while. “Elijah been thinkin'. You needin' to ask where Fifth Street be.”

Billy grimaced. “I got to find me another storekeeper? Like before? What if he asks me questions?”

“You don't tell white folk nuthin'.”

“Maybe the provost marshal's gonna be lookin' for me.”

“You wear Elijah's overcoat. That way you don't look the same. Come outside here.” Crawling out from under the stairs, Elijah pulled off his jacket and handed it to Billy.

“What if somethin' bad happens?” Billy asked as he hurriedly unfastened his buttons and slipped into Elijah's jacket. “Jacket's awful big.”

“Billy, suh,” Elijah said, “ain't nuthin' gon' happen. Just go on and do like Elijah say.” He reached for Billy's sack coat and scrunched his nose when he couldn't push his arms through the narrow sleeves. Frustrated, he wrapped the wool coat around his shoulders and crossed his arms to hold in warmth.

“Why ain't you wearin' my coat?”

“Billy, suh, this coat too small for Elijah, so you hurry back before Elijah freeze hisself.”

“I'm goin',” Billy said dismally. “Ain't got no money for bread, neither.”

Billy brushed dirt and bits of scattered pine needles from his trousers and stretched his stiffened body. Still tender, his knee buckled when he started to walk, so shifting the weight on his leg, he limped under the arch through the alley that led to the main sidewalk. The mist was lifting. The promise of sunlight brightened his spirits as much as the sights and sounds of the awakening city.

He watched a pair of sprightly mares pulling a streetcar filled with early morning shoppers along the smooth rails. Billy headed down the sidewalk, strolling beneath colorful awnings, gazing in shop windows. He paused in front of a haberdashery with its handsome display of fine men's clothing, ambled past a printing office and a barbershop, and offered a passing glance at a storefront window filled with yards of winter woolens, plaids in brilliant reds and greens, mufflers soft with rabbit fur. He broke into a wide smile as he came upon a sweet shop and for several moments stared through the window, watching the candy maker stretch and fold ribbons of saltwater taffy over a marble slab. He pressed his face against the storefront window. On the far shelf were jars of licorice strings, horehound and lemon drops, and candied ginger.

He tapped on the glass.

The candy maker looked up as he stretched the red-and-white-striped taffy across the slab, frowned, and shook his head. Billy shrugged and turned away from the candy shop. He continued down the slate sidewalk.

A short distance ahead, two women in long capes hurried from a bake shop and stepped into the street, their straw baskets bulging with rounded loaves of bread. Behind them the elderly storekeeper, a broom tucked under his arm, stopped and tossed a handful of breadcrumbs onto the sidewalk. His
woolly side-whiskers bobbed up and down his ruddy cheeks as he chatted to the gathering sparrows.

“Mornin', mister,” Billy said, startling the sparrows as he approached the kindly looking man. Billy stepped quickly aside as the sparrows flapped from the ground like spraying water, disappearing into the eaves.

“Good day, lad.” The storekeeper gave him an appraising look from head to toe. His easy smile clouded, and he took a step backward. “I suppose you'll be looking for work?”

“No, sir.” Billy saw the look of concern on the old man's face and ran his dirtied fingers awkwardly through his matted hair. “Lookin' for Fifth Street is all.”

The old man wrinkled his brow. “Fifth Street, you say?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Well, lad, you're nearly there now. This is Third Street.” He raised his arm and pointed. “Down this way, just a couple of blocks, and you'll be there.”

“Thank you, sir.”

The old man nodded his head and began sweeping the walk in front of his door as Billy hurried away.

“Young man! Fifth Street's the other way!”

“Yes, sir,” Billy said, waving his arm. He kept on walking. A burst of pain shot through his knee; he slowed his pace and, favoring his leg again, limped slowly down the sidewalk. He stopped suddenly in front of a storefront window that had been shuttered earlier. He let out a low gasp, awestruck by the handsomely carved three-masted schooner, its miniature sails fully extended as if it was running with the wind. He studied the schooner's intricate detail, wishing he could remember everything about it so he could whittle one for Jamie. Reluctantly he moved on, his mind flooding with ballasts and riggings, tall
masts, and full sails, all the way back to the narrow alleyway that led to the shelter of the church, and Elijah.