Elijah of Buxton (10 page)

I don't work nowhere near as hard as Mr. Leroy, but that don't matter, I was good and tuckered out. Betwixt schooling and studying and choring 'round the Settlement and working till past dark with him for most of the last couple weeks, I'll own up that I was lagging that night and my mind might not've been quite right. That ain't to make no excuses 'bout what happened, it's just telling the truth.

Most times me and Mr. Leroy don't say much whilst we work, not only 'cause it's hard to talk to someone that's knocking away at trees and swinging a heavy axe, but also 'cause Mr. Leroy don't seem partial to running his mouth nohow. To my way of thinking, that meant us walking home together was a good time to get a whole lot of the conversating done that we'd been missing out on.

Most every other night I gotta walk home by myself, and I ain't complaining, but sometimes it does seem like the walking would be a lot easier if I had someone to do it with.

It ain't no sign of being a fra-gile boy, but if you have to walk home on a night where the moon's got blacked out, you just might get surprised and find yourself jumping at noises coming from the side of the road or from out the woods and then running all the way home screaming.

Anybody that has some sense would be a little afeared that one of those bears or snakes or wolfs might've wandered out of their regular area and come over here, so maybe twixt the being real tired from all my work, and the being real happy 'bout having some company, my mind didn't have no chance at being right that night when the moon was covered and Mr. Leroy and me walked home together.

Since he waren't much of a talker, I figured he had plenty of practice on being a listener, and I was jawing at him pretty regular and fast. Even though it happened two whole days ago, I was still mighty worked up 'bout Mr. Travis near snatching Cooter's ear off and not teaching us 'bout family breeding contests. So after I talked for a while 'bout fishing and animals in the woods and Ma's scratchy sweaters and how many first-place ribbons Champion and Jingle Boy got at the fair, I started in on what happened when I got all those lines forced at me.

Whilst we were walking for the first mile or so, Mr. Leroy would grunt and nod his head every once in the while, like he was paying some mind to what I was saying. But by the time I started in on talking 'bout Mr. Travis, we'd covered us two miles easy and Mr. Leroy waren't showing no kind of interest in nothing I was having to say. He just tromped on ahead looking like he was wishing I'd be quiet. But like I already owned up to, lots of things were coming together to make me want to talk and not pay too much mind to who it was I was talking to.

I said, “And Mr. Travis went berserk and afore you can blink he jumps clean 'cross the room and I caint say how he did it but he must've been flying 'cause to get at Cooter Bixby he had to go over three rows of children and didn't one n'em desks get knocked aside nor toppled over nor didn't one n'em children have no footprints on 'em nor bruises from where he must've stepped …”

I could tell Mr. Leroy didn't particular want to hear all this. He didn't tell me to be still, but he did pick up the pace of his walking like he was rushing to get home. I warent 'bout to miss the chance to get this off my chest so I started halfway running and halfway walking to keep up with him.

I told him, “So Mr. Travis has got Cooter's ear wound up so tight that it's starting to look like somebody's finger 'stead of somebody's ear and it's 'bout the most awful thing you ever seen in all your days
.…
”

Then I said 'em, I said those words that made it so the lesson 'bout familiarity and contempt'll be fixed in my mind for's long as I live, even if that's to fifty. I said, “And me and all 'em other little nigg —”

I knowed better. Ma and Pa didn't tolerate no one saying that word 'round 'em. They say it's a sign of hatred when a white person says it and a sign of bad upbringing and ignorance when one our own calls it out, so there ain't no good excuses.

I knowed better.

I didn't think Mr. Leroy was paying me no mind. I didn't even get the chance to get the whole word out. I never even saw it coming.

It felt like whatever rope it was that was holding up the moon gave out all the sudden and the moon slipped free and busted through the clouds and came crashing down to earth afore it exploded square on top of me!

All I saw at first was a bright light. Which I figured was Mr. Leroy backhanding me 'cross my mouth. Then I felt my senses flying away. Which must've been me falling toward the ground. Then I felt like I'd been chunked by the moon. Which would've been me knocking my head 'gainst the ground.

I don't think I was out for more'n a second, but when I came to, I wished I'd been out for a whole lot longer 'cause Mr. Leroy was standing over top of me with his hand drawed back, fixing to crack me all over again.

He made up for all the not talking he'd been doing whilst we walked. Now he commenced jawing at me just as hard as I'd been jawing at him.

He shouted, “Is you out your mind?”

I was 'bout to say, “No, sir,” but I figured this was one n'em questions people ask just for the sake of asking it, they don't really want no answer. I probably couldn't've said nothing no way, my tongue was too busy roaming 'round my mouth, checking to see if any of my teeth had got set a-loose by Mr. Leroy's slap.

He said, “What you think they call me whilst they was doing this?”

He opened the front of his shirt and showed me where a big square with a letter T in the middle of it was branded into him. The scar was raised up and shiny and was real plain to see even if there waren't no moonlight atall.

“What you think they call me?”

Mr. Leroy was screaming like it was
him
that lost his mind.

“What you think they call my girl when they sold her? What kind of baby they call her from up on the block?”

Mr. Leroy was spitting and looking mad as a hatter. I sure was glad he'd gone and dropped his axe when he'd first busted me 'cross the mouth.

I said, “Mr. Leroy, sir, I'm sorry …”

“What name you think they call my wife when they take her to another man for his own? What?”

“I'm sorry, sir, I'm sorry …”

“How you gunn call them children in that school and you'self that name them white folks down home calls us? Has you lost your natural mind? You wants to be like one n'em? You wants to be keeping they hate alive?”

I saw that Mr. Leroy really
was
out of his mind! He must've thought I was a white person that said that word.

I begged him, “Mr. Leroy, sir, please! I ain't white! Please don't hit me no more!”

He raised his left hand and I closed my eyes and tried to mash myself down into the dirt.

He said, “White person? You thinking this here's 'bout some white person? Look at this. Look!”

I opened my eyes and saw he waren't gonna slap me again. He was showing me where his littlest finger on his left hand use to be. He was pointing at all that was left there, a little stump.

He said, “Who you think it was cut my finger off? Who?”

I didn't know if I should answer him or just keep quiet and let him have his say. I shrugged my shoulders.

He said, “A slave, that's who. And the whole time he slashing and stabbing at me trying to cut my throat, what name he calling me? What name?”

I said, “I know, sir, but I ain't gonna say it no more.”

He said, “You thinks just 'cause that word come out from twixt your black lips it mean anything different? You think it ain't choke up with the same kind of hate and disrespect it has when
they
say it? You caint see it be even worst when
you
call it out?”

I told him, “Sir, I only said it 'cause I hear lots of children say it.”

“What difference it make who you hear say it? I can understand a little if one of y'all freeborn use it, y'all's ignorant in a whole slew of ways. Y'all ain't been told your whole life that's what you is. But someone what was a slave, or someone whose ma and pa was a slave and raised them good like your'n done, that just shows you believing that what we be. That just shows you done swallowed they poison. And swallowed it whole.”

There waren't gonna be no more hitting, I could tell Mr. Leroy was calming down. He commenced rubbing on his left arm then reached his hand down to help me up.

Once I got up I quick wiped away the tears that were trying to get in my eyes. It ain't being fra-gile, but don't nothing in the world make you want to bawl more than getting a good backhand slap when you ain't expecting it.

Mr. Leroy said, “Now belting you like that probably waren't the right thing to do, 'Lijah, but I ain't sorry I done it. If my boy, 'Zekial, was to call someone out they name like that, I prays to God someone would bust him up too. Y'all young folks gotta understand that's a name what ain't never called with nothing but hate. That ain't nothing but a word them slavers done chained us with and if God's just, like I know he is, one day it gunn be buried right 'long with the last one of 'em. That ain't one the things we need to be carrying to Canada with us.

“Now if you and me's gunn do any more working together, you know what you gotta say.”

I did. I told him, “I'm sorry, Mr. Leroy, I ain't never gonna use that word again.”

He said, “You got to always keep in mind, Elijah, that I'm growned and you ain't. You got to always 'member that we gets 'long just fine but I ain't your friend. I cares 'bout you like you's my own boy, but you always got to give me my respect. You saying that word ain't showing no respect for me, it ain't showing no respect for your folks, it ain't showing no respect for you'self, and it ain't showing no respect for no one what's had that word spit on 'em whilst they's getting beat on like a animal.”

Mr. Leroy used his hat to brush the back of my shirt and pants off and reached his hand out for me to shake it, then said, “Elijah, it's my hope that there ain't no hard feelings twixt you and me. I likes the way you owned up to what you done.”

I shooked his hand and said, “No, sir, ain't no hard feelings atall.”

Some of the time when a growned person asks you a question, you're smart to tell 'em what it is they want to hear, but that waren't what I was doing.

I said there waren't no hard feelings 'cause I meant it.

Pa's always telling me that people that use to be slaves are toting things 'round with 'em that caint be seen with your regular eyes. He says once someone was a slave there's always gonna be a something in 'em that knows parts 'bout life that freeborn folks caint never know, mostly horrorific parts.

He tells me that's why I got to be sharp on my guard when I'm talking with anyone that got free. They've seen people acting in ways that caint help but leave scars and peculiarities. Things that I might not think mean nothing, but things that can cut 'em to the quick. So I waren't doing nothing but telling Mr. Leroy the truth when I told him I waren't holding no grudges and that I waren't gonna use that word again.

He said, “Good, son. 'Cause I really want you to know what I'm trying to say and sometimes I ain't too good with my words.”

I said, “I know what you're trying to say, Mr. Leroy. It boils down to familiarity breeds contempt.”

Mr. Leroy picked up his axe and swung it 'cross his left shoulder then put his right hand on my head. I'll always remember Mr. Leroy's hand on my head and the words he told me. I'll always remember that night when there waren't no moon and me and Mr. Leroy walked home together.

The next day after school, I was in the stable shoveling manure when Old Flapjack gave a snort. I looked up and the Preacher was standing in the doorway.

“Evening, Elijah.”

“Evening, sir.”

“Do you remember when I asked if you'd be willing to do something to help the Settlement?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Have you changed your mind?”

“'Bout what, sir?”

“Helping the Settlement.”

“Why, no, sir, but what was it that …”

The Preacher unfolded a piece of paper and handed it to me.

 

C
OMING TO
C
HATHAM,
T
HREE
N
IGHTS
O
NLY

Sir Charles M. Vaughn and his world-renowned CARNIVAL OF ODDITIES will be traversing through Canada West on their way from Chicago, Illinois, to Buffalo, New York, and points east. Sir Charles has graciously agreed to allow the citizens of Chatham, Buxton, and nearby environs to witness for themselves what they have only read about in the nation's finest newspapers. Hear the Calliope!!! Taste the Sugared Treats!!! See the Most Unusual Freaks of Nature You Can Imagine!!! Witness the World's Greatest Hypnotist!!! Rare Patent Medicines Available. Games of Chance!!! Members of All Races Welcome. Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday Only!!!!