Cy in Chains (25 page)

“And what happen?” Aunt Miriam asked.

“They run Mr. AJ Parrish outta town, that's what.” Simon looked into his glass of whiskey. “We ain't gon' find him come tomorrow mornin'.”

“What about the child's mama?” Aunt Miriam asked.

“He never said nothin' about havin' a mama,” Cy replied. “I figured she was dead or gone away.”

Aunt Miriam shook her head. “Po' child. If you can't find his daddy, he gon' be some disappointed.”

As Cy listened, anger had been rising in him. Mouse was bad off. Billy would be destroyed if they couldn't find his father. Why did the white man have the power of life and death over colored folks? And why did colored folks have to risk everything if they ever dared to fight back?

“We can be in town first thing, and I can ask around, see what I can find out,” Simon told them. “Maybe somebody know where AJ Parrish gone. Maybe he left word with somebody, case Billy ever come 'round lookin' for him.”

“The way Daddy left word with y'all,” Cy said. Hope rose in him a little. He had to keep believing it wasn't too late for Billy to find his father again, or for him to find his own.

S
IMON LEFT EARLY WITH
B
ILLY
. A
ROUND DINNERTIME
, Aunt Miriam and Cy heard the wagon in the yard and went out to the porch to meet it. They had gotten Mouse up to eat breakfast, but he hadn't touched the hotcakes and milk Aunt Miriam put in front of him. Complaining of being too tired to eat, he'd returned to bed.

Simon had to help Billy down from the wagon seat. The boy seemed to be in a daze. Cy remembered that look from when Billy was new at Cain's camp. Lost and helpless, like a bird fallen from the nest.

“What is it?” Aunt Miriam asked. “It bad, ain't it?”

“Yes, ma'am,” Simon answered. “When we arrived in town, the place was already buzzin' like a nest o' angry hornets. News about Cain's camp come last night, from what all them told me. Rumors flyin' ever' which way, folks talkin' 'bout bands o' black men armed with knives and guns, roamin' around like Nat Turner and his men back in the day, just waitin' to ambush white folks and cut 'em down without mercy. I got dirty looks from some o' them white trash boys what hang out in the courthouse square.”

“They been hatin' you long as I can remember,” Aunt Miriam noted.

“Most black folks is stayin' off the streets, and I heard tell that the sheriff is callin' for volunteers to catch the killers.”

Cy went cold when he heard that.
Killers
. That's what he and Rosalee were. Not the other boys, but now they'd all be rounded up and punished, if the white men could find them.

“What about Billy's daddy?” Aunt Miriam asked.

Simon shook his head. “More bad news. I remembered right. AJ Parrish
did
live in Moultrie, and Billy
was
accused o' stealin' some money. After the sheriff sent him off to Cain's, AJ went sort o' crazy. The city council ordered him to leave, and they took him to the city limits. Ain't nobody heard a word about him since that day. Was all I could do to keep Billy quiet till we got outta town. If they'd of heard him, I reckon we both be in the jail.”

Aunt Miriam gathered Billy into her arms. “All right, now,” she told him, her voice low and soothing. “It's all right, sugar. We gon' take good care o' you.”

Cy wanted to shout that it
wasn't
all right. The whites would get horses and guns and dogs, and they wouldn't stop until every last runaway was found. Suddenly he was afraid, the way he hadn't been since he found himself standing over Stryker and Davis, the gun in his hand.

“We got to get these boys away from here,” Simon declared. “Farther the better, and sooner the better.”

“You's right,” Aunt Miriam agreed. She stroked Billy's head. “But this child ain't fit to travel, and Mouse—”

“After dark,” Simon replied. “I can take 'em. Back roads. Go 'round to the west, avoid Tifton, cross the Alapaha, head north.”

“To Louisville?” Cy asked. Hope rose in him again.

Simon nodded. “Only other choice is to stay here and hide, but I ain't one to sit and wait for trouble to come to me. I say we take off soon as it dark.”

Cy felt himself trembling, a wild mixture of fear and excitement running through him like icy water. “We got to leave,” he exclaimed. “Billy, hear that? We got to go.”

Billy didn't move.

“Billy, you hear me? You can come with us. We can make it to Louisville. Daddy take you and Mouse in.”

Billy wiped his eyes with his jacket sleeve and looked at Cy. “You mean it, Cy?”

Cy realized that he
did
mean it. “Sure I do! Daddy be glad to have some more boys. You, me, Mouse—we can have a good time together. Hunt, fish—”

“Go to school,” Aunt Miriam broke in. “Get you some education so you can grow up and be somethin' more'n a sharecropper.”

“Yes, ma'am,” Cy agreed. “What you say, Billy?”

“All right. Least for a while, until things quiet down and I can come back and find Daddy.”

“That's my boy,” Aunt Miriam said. “Just 'cause Simon couldn't find him today don't mean he lost from you. One day soon, you can come back and find him.”

“Okay,” Billy said. He sighed deeply. “I's ready.”

Simon went down the porch steps. “We got to gather up supplies and make our plans. I'll fix up a load o' somethin' for the wagon so I can have a reason for goin' toward Tifton and beyond, case anyone stop me.”

“How we gonna hide?” Cy asked.

Simon looked thoughtful. “I figure out somethin'.”

“Come on,” Cy told Billy. “Let's go tell Mouse.”

They made their way to the small lean-to room at the back of the house. It was cool and dim. Afternoon sunshine filtered through the curtain drawn over the window. Mouse lay on the bed, one of Aunt Miriam's crazy quilts pulled up to his chin. He was so small and thin that Cy could hardly see him under the cover.

“Mouse?” Cy went to the bed and looked down at the boy. “Mouse, wake up. Billy an' me got some news. We gonna leave here soon as it get dark. Simon gonna take us. We goin' home, up to Louisville. My daddy can be yo' daddy from now on.”

Mouse didn't answer. Then Cy noticed how still he was. There was no movement to show that he was breathing.

“Mouse!” Cy exclaimed.

Billy climbed onto the bed and touched Mouse's face. “Come on,” he cried. “Wake up!”

Cy pulled back the quilt, but still Mouse did not move. His hands were cupped together at his waist. In them, he held the moth with the two dark eyespots on its wings.

 

Simon dug the grave in the woods in back of the cabin. Aunt Miriam washed Mouse and wrapped him in a clean sheet. As Simon gently placed the tiny body into the earth, Aunt Miriam read from a tattered Bible: “Behold, the tabernacle of God is with men, and he will dwell with them, and they shall be his people, and God himself shall be with them, and be their God. And God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes; and there shall be no more death, neither sorrow, nor crying, neither shall there be any more pain: for the former things are passed away.”

Listening to Aunt Miriam, Cy realized she was the first black person he'd ever known who knew how to read. Again he was reminded of what Billy and the other boys had said at West's funeral. Like their words, these offered comfort, especially the part about God wiping away all the tears. Billy was standing on the other side of Mouse's narrow grave, not even bothering to stop the tears that coursed down his cheeks. Was there really a place where God, whoever he was, would put an end to all the pain of being alive?

When they were done, Aunt Miriam led Billy back to the cabin, but Cy wanted to help close the grave. He hated the sound of the dirt dropping onto the shrunken, sheeted figure at the bottom of the hole, but he was glad, in a way, that Mouse wasn't being buried by complete strangers.

Cy kept his eyes on the quickly shrinking pile of brown, sandy soil as he worked. The sound of weeping made him look up, and he was surprised to see Simon crying openly, like a child. Simon had known Mouse only a day, yet he looked as if his heart was broken. At that moment, love for Simon and Aunt Miriam flooded into Cy. He'd known them only a day too, but they had been kind to him and his companions, even at the risk of their own safety. Rosalee had been kind as well, bringing him water and bread when he was in the icehouse. His father had brought apples and molasses cakes, clean soft clothes, and a plan for his escape. And Jess—he had tried to help, even when all he had to offer was a word of hope, a cup of water, or a hand to hold Cy's forehead while he vomited from the whooping cough. Such kindnesses had been rare in Cy's world for a long time, and each one shone in his memory.

Cy and Billy were helping Aunt Miriam gather food for their trip when Simon burst through the front door. He'd been loading the wagon in the yard.

“Quick!” he cried. “Get 'em into the hidin' place. They's folks comin'.”

He pushed the eating table to one side and pulled back the rag rug. Underneath it was a trapdoor. Simon slid the blade of his knife into the space between the door and the floor and pried the door up enough to grab with his fingers. When the door was open, Cy could see a ladder leading down into a tiny, dark room.

Billy began to whimper.

“None o' that!” Aunt Miriam told him. “It the only way. They's some water in a jug and some food. You and Cy go on down, and we take care o' things up here. Don't you worry! Simon an' me won't let nothin' bad happen to you.”

Billy didn't move.

“Let's go!” Cy grabbed his hand and pulled him to the opening in the floor. He went down the ladder first and caught Billy as he stumbled down after him.

“Not one word!” Aunt Miriam warned. “We get rid o' whoever it is, and y'all be back up here in no time.”

Simon closed the trapdoor over them, and Cy could hear the rug being pulled back and the table put into place. Then the cabin door opened and the sound of footsteps meant that Simon and Aunt Miriam had gone onto the porch. Then silence.

The hiding place was pitch-dark, and it smelled damp but not bad. Billy and Cy sat down on the floor. Cy put his arm over Billy's shoulder and whispered to him to be quiet, to stay calm, that nothing would happen to them. He wanted to believe that himself.

As they waited, Cy realized that Billy was his responsibility now. Mouse was dead, and there was nothing he could do about it. The other runaways were being hunted down like animals, and there was nothing he could do about that, either. But so far, he and Billy had escaped. They were safe for now. Simon would help them all he could, but no matter what happened next, it was up to him to look after Billy.

He'd never wanted it this way. Only the day before yesterday, he'd dreamed of escaping by himself, free from having to think about anyone else. But he'd let Billy and Mouse come with him. To his surprise, he didn't regret it. Why?

Cy thought of Jess again and how the last thing Jess had ever told him was to look after Billy and Mouse. Cy hadn't wanted to do it, but somehow things had worked out differently. And now, he found himself glad that Billy was with him. Billy, who had also helped nurse him when he had nearly died with the whooping cough. He had shown kindness, too.

From above came the sound of loud voices in the yard. The voices rose and became shouts, and then they gradually died away into silence. Finally, the door opened and someone was moving the table and the rug. When the trapdoor opened, it was Aunt Miriam's face that appeared in the fading light of late afternoon.

“They gone,” she told them. “It safe now.”

The boys climbed up the ladder.

“Where Simon?” Billy asked.

“White men took him,” Aunt Miriam answered. Her voice was shaky, and Cy sensed she was trying to be calm for their sake.

“Why?” he cried.

“No good reason. They just suspicious o' every black man what got a ounce o' courage, and Simon got more'n enough for ten men.”

Billy dropped onto a chair. “They gon' get us,” he said miserably.

“Don't you talk thataway,” Aunt Miriam told him. “Simon be back. They said they gon' take him to Moultrie, put him in the jail for a couple days, just to make sure he ain't in on any plot. When this storm blow over, they'll let him go. He kept tellin' 'em he warn't part of what happen at Cain's place, and he didn't know nothin' 'bout no big plan for black folks to rise up and smite the whites. Maybe them men didn't believe him, but you boys know Simon tellin' the truth.”

“What do we do?” Cy asked.

“Wait here. When Simon get out, he can take y'all up to Louisville.”

“Naw!” Billy shouted. “If we wait, they gon' find us. Cy, please, we got to go!”

Cy didn't want to think of leaving this safe place. No one would suspect the hidden room under the table. They could stay down there for days if they needed to. But another part of him knew Billy was right. They might keep Simon in jail for weeks, not days. And when the white men let him out, they'd likely watch him. If he tried to take the wagon anywhere, they'd stop him, search everything. How could he and Billy hide in a wagon so that the white men wouldn't find them?

Cy knew Aunt Miriam and Billy were looking at him, waiting for his decision. “We got to leave,” he said simply. “Soon as it dark.”

“It risky,” Aunt Miriam warned. “They be watchin' the roads.”

“We sneak through the woods, then. Long as we know the right way to head, we be okay. Once we get past Tifton, it be safer. We can find black folks to help us, point the way up to Louisville. I know we can do it.”

“Cy right,” Billy agreed.