Good Fortune (9781416998631) (5 page)

“Slaves a runnin' to freedom?” I asked, engaged deeply in the short story.

“Sho'. The two ole folks freed all dem peoples, maybe hundreds of 'em, an' sent 'em 'cross the riva. Just so happened that afta the last of da peoples disappeared on the riva's horizon, befo' the boatin' man could come back fo' the old folks, they was caught.”

“Caught? Why the song got to have them caught fo'? Cain't it be somethin' glad?”

Mary chuckled. “You gonna hear the rest of it?” I nodded.

“They drowned themselves hand in hand befo' the slave catchers could kill 'em.”

“That's a sad song, Mary.”

“Well, many say when a slave be a runnin', the spirits of da two ole folks come back an' warn the slave when danger's awaitin'. Don't rightly know if'n it's da truth or not, but it goes somethin' like dis:

“Ole man Tom an' his good wife Liza (None round here done seen any wisa)
When trouble's a lurkin', they calls a safety to yo' side In da darkness of the night by the ragin' riverside So's when you's a fearin' for your good ole freedom They'll up'n find you an' carry you to freedom.”

CHAPTER
 
5 

T
HE FLOOR WAS ALMOST CLEAN.

Just a little bit of scrubbing over here.

I finished the task with a sigh and picked up the rag. Edging the door open to the small study, I glanced uncertainly into the room. Missus had told me to dust all the desks in the house. Was this one included?

Inching the door a bit farther forward, I brought the rag to the edge of the desk and began wiping it, carefully shifting around what I had to in order to clean the whole surface. Edging around the desk, I bumped into something standing against the wall. I began turning, but my body went still with excitement. In front of me was a large bookcase. And there were so many books! Surely I could peek into one of the primers. …

I scolded myself immediately over the thoughts that rushed through my mind and turned quickly back to the desk and the rag. But just as soon as the scolding stopped, I felt my feet creeping toward the shelf once more. I peeked over my shoulder and listened carefully for any sound. No one was near, and no one would notice
if I sneaked just a quick look at the books. What possibly could that hurt? Nobody would notice!

I reached toward the shelf, my heart beating in my stomach. The burning feeling of danger shot through my body, but I paid it no heed. A small bowl of sugar cubes sat in front of a colorful book. Looking over my shoulder again, I hid a cube in my dress pocket and then nudged the bowl to the side to reveal the book. I slowly tipped the dusty book out toward me. I pulled it down and cracked it open an inch or so, then read the first word on the page I turned to. With satisfaction beating even louder than my fearful heart, I shut the book and slid it back in its place.

I can read!

Those were the first words that formed in my mind as my fingers slid down the spine of the book once more.

“What in the devil's name are you in this room for?”

It was the worst sound I could have heard. Missus's voice startled me so much that my hand jerked, hitting the bowl of sugar cubes. It tumbled through the air as our eyes followed its motions, my heart beating harder with every rotation.

The bowl's edge struck the wood floor and shattered into a miniature ice storm of sugar and shards of porcelain.

“You fool! My cubes! Were you stealing my cubes? And my china! My precious china is shattered to pieces! What's gotten into you, you stupid slave? Insolence and disobedience have consequences. How dare you! Charles, Charles, come quick. Come now!”

Before I could attempt an explanation, Masta Charles came running into the room. Seeing me, he rushed over, grabbed my arm, and pulled me out past onlookers whose eyes told me that trouble stood in my path. I bit my lips with dread as I listened to Masta shout nasty words while he dragged me out the door with Missus right on his heels.

Once outside, he told the overseer what to do with me. The overseer forced me past the beating tree—the punishment arranged for the worst of deeds done—to a fence. He tied my hands tightly to it and ripped my blouse halfway down my back, revealing my half-grown chest. He removed his bullwhip from his holster, and swung. The tip bit the air with a
crack!
Panic rose within me and began to swell. I tugged at the ropes that bound my wrists together; they sliced even farther into my skin like dull knives. My heart raced.

Crack!

The tip of the whip whistled through the air until it landed swiftly on my back. The sting of the first impact blurred my mind. I didn't even hear my own scream until the second strike rattled me, the one making me pay for my “insolence.” Three. Four. Five. Six. My screams turned into whimpers of pain as my flesh seemed to find its way into a fiery hell. The struggling stopped: My body, strong and rebellious a few strikes before, hung limp and helpless. My hands had quit tugging to free themselves from the ropes binding them to the fence.

As he continued to beat me, I ceased counting the number of times the whip struck my back; my screams
were now simple gasps. My eyes were squeezed so tightly together that I saw white stars in my mind. Large tears jutted from my eyes and dripped off my face, attempting to wash away the pain. All I wished, and all I wanted, was for it to be over. I prayed to the beat of his whip for the Lord to have mercy on me. Time seemed to stand still. There was only me, the pain, and that whip.

And then, it ended as abruptly as it had started, though the pain settled in quickly afterward. Fifteen lashes for breaking the china bowl and trying to steal the cubes. It was strange justice, but the only justice we knew: the justice of the slave master. The overseer untied my hands, letting me fall in a heap onto the fertile soil, and simply walked away. His work was done and he had done his job well, beating my bound young body as he had. But the pain didn't walk off with the man holding the bullwhip. It held me hostage and stayed with me even as Mary knelt by my side. She was a blurry mass to my drifting consciousness. She whispered to me, told me that it would be all right. It was as if her words were my gateway to heaven. I fainted dead away.

“Morning? He wants me back to workin' by mornin'?” I couldn't believe my ears. Lying on my stomach on a pallet the next day, Mary dressed my wounds once more. She shook her head slowly, angrily, with worry lines creasing her forehead.

“Mary, I ain't gonna be healed enough to work!” I exclaimed. “I'll jus' get beat again, this time fo' not doin' my job!”

“Shh, hush that talk! You'll be fine, chile, you will. This stuff here I put on yo' back'll heal ya quicka; it's somethin' my mama showed me, an' her Native mama befo' that. You'll be a little weak, but you'll be able to work.”

The tears came again as Mary rubbed whatever it was she had on my back. It stung at first, and I grimaced as the herb-filled salve penetrated my open wounds, but it settled into a coolness that eased the pain. She told me that Missus hadn't watched; the whipping was too much for her to bear. Missus believed my lesson had been learned, and she was willing to give me another chance in the Big House.

How lucky I must be!
I thought. In my mind, I dreamed of wrenching a bullwhip out of the overseer's hand and charging towards Missus, beating her coward self down. But I was smarter than that; my heart was better than that. I let my emotions simmer, then buried them inside with everything else.

“Tucker,” I said, looking up to see a man standing by Daniel. He seemed to be thrown in some generation between Mary and me. He was a small man—quiet, thin boned, but quick and strong willed. His eyes had a faraway look to them. To me, his spirit seemed to be locked in a place I couldn't dream of touching. He had no one close to him I knew of, besides the respect of an older woman who lived on some plantation a day's travel down the road.
Tucker sought Daniel's company often and shared meals with me and Mary from time to time.

“You doin' all right?” Tucker asked me, smiling softly into my eyes.

“Sho', Tucker. I'm doin' okay.” He nodded slowly, and took a long breath. “But I'd be doin' a little betta if you could tell Daniel to stop all that pacin'. It's makin' me nervous.” I shot my eyes back over to my brother, whose shoulders were tense and whose lips were dangerously pursed. Hearing me, he stopped in place and softened the angry arch of his eyebrows. As Mary ran out to collect something else for my back, and Tucker left to continue the work he had temporarily abandoned, I turned all my attention to my brother.

“Daniel,” I said softly, as if that one word would tell him I was all right.

My brother leaned down even closer, his eyes only narrowing more.

“Sarah, ain't nobody gonna be whippin'—”

“Shh. Daniel, don't talk like that! I got this for you.” I handed him the sugar cube I had painfully recovered from my pocket. He stared at it without reaching out a hand to take it.

“That what you get whipped fo'?” He asked.

Dropping my hand that held the cube onto the pallet, I nodded solemnly, then added with a slight pause, “Least, that's what Missus say.” In the silence that followed, I hid my secret about reading the book and not getting caught. If I had been caught for that “sin”—if Missus had walked in just a minute earlier and seen me attempting to educate
myself—I would have been punished far more severely than I hoped ever to be punished.

I held out my hand to him once more, but he shook his head. I interrupted his thoughts.

“Ain't no need wastin' it now. Since I already have it, eat it! Or else I'ma feel even worse!” A slight smile curled the corners of Daniel's mouth.

“If you say so.” Breaking off half of it with his teeth, he put the other half into my mouth. But the sudden stinging I felt drowned out the sweetness of the sugar. Mary had reentered the cabin and was touching my back with something in her hands. I squirmed under her touch.

“You a real smart girl, Sarah, but you need to learn to think befo' you act, honey, you hear?”

“Yes, Mary.”

“Either way”—she stood up and walked around to look in my eyes—“you be a strong girl, Sarah, real strong and brave.”

CHAPTER
 
6