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Authors: Christopher Paul Curtis

Elijah of Buxton (27 page)

BOOK: Elijah of Buxton
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This was great news! Maybe the Preacher had won enough by now to really buy six more slaves out of America! Maybe we didn't have no cause to come up here tearing after him!

Mr. Leroy said, “Thank you kindly.”

He reached down to pull me onto Jingle Boy.

'Twaren't far atall to the tavern. When we got there Mr. Leroy tied Jingle Boy out front and told me, “If they's any trouble you light on out for this horse and go home. Just follow that road south.”

I said, “Yes, sir.”

He pulled the pistol out of the holster and put it in the pocket of his waistcoat. He never took his hand back outta the pocket.

We walked 'round back of the tavern and came up on a bunch of men squatting down and talking loud.

Once we got up on 'em I saw the Preacher waren't there. The men were tossing two little white square boxes with dots all over 'em up 'gainst a wall. There was lots of swearing and lots of coins being passed 'round and American dollar bills being waved back and forth and held squozed up in fists.

Mr. Leroy said, “Pardon me. Any y'all know a man name of …” He gave me a nudge. I took the paper out of my pocket again and read, “Mr. Benjamin Alston.”

One of the men said, “Who axing?”

Mr. Leroy said, “He help a friend and I needs to talk to him.”

The man said, “What friend he help?”

Mr. Leroy said, “Man name of Highgate, come from Buxton. In Canada.”

The man who'd asked all the questions stood up and said, “I'm Benji Alston. What can I do for you?”

Mr. Leroy said, “Thank you kindly for helping Theodore, sir.”

“'Twaren't nothing. Someone bushwhack him. All I done was give him a place to rest and call a doctor. That's one lucky man. Doc say a half a inch closer, he'd have been killed for sure. How he doing?”

Mr. Leroy said, “I hear you might know where I can find the man what got a gun like this here one.”

Mr. Leroy pulled his hand outta his pocket. He had the gun pointing back at hisself so no one wouldn't get the wrong idea.

A bunch of grumbling and scowls came over all the men once they saw that gun.

Mr. Alston said, “Hesh, couldn't none y'all say for sure he was cheating. Man might've been having a good roll of luck.”

Someone said, “Luck, my foot!”

One of the other men said, “He got done with us and said he was looking to bet for some real money, said he wanted to go up 'gainst some white folks. They was gambling over in Culpepper's, but that was earlier this week. Shoot, I figure if that man was smart 'nough to cheat all us, he
have
to be smart 'nough to know better than to gamble with no white folks.”

Mr. Alston said, “Last I heard he was over at the East Lee stable yesterday. But I ain't sure I believe it. That's where them slavers is staying.”

Slavers? My blood ran cold!

Mr. Alston said, “Y'all best be careful if you plan on going over to that stable. Them paddy-rollers there ain't to be trifled with. Got them one the biggest, baddest bear-fighting dogs I ever seen up north.”

He told us where the stable was and I thanked him.

I don't know what it was, if it was the talk about the slavers or the talk about the bear-fighting dog, but soon as we started walking back to Jingle Boy, Mr. Leroy commenced to looking mighty worried and afeared. And it tore my heart out.

I said, “What's wrong, Mr. Leroy? Should we go get us some help from somewhere?”

Mr. Leroy grabbed his left arm and started breathing like he'd just been chopping oaks.

He said, “Elijah, ain't … no … one gunn help me. It just be you.”

Ain't nothing in the world that'll get you feeling fragile quicker than seeing a growned person you know is hard as nails looking afeared.

“But, Mr. Leroy, what's wrong? Why're you looking like that?”

He said, “We got to get to that stable, boy. We got to move quick.”

He climbed up on Jingle Boy slow and in parts 'stead of jumping up the way he regular did.

He didn't put his arm down to pull me up.

He said, “Lead the horse yon, Elijah, through the back way.”

I grabbed Jingle Boy's reins and led him north.

We got 'bout a half mile when I said to Mr. Leroy, “Sir, maybe we should get you some rest afore we go to that stable, maybe we need to …”

I looked back just as Mr. Leroy started sliding off of Jingle Boy. It seemed like he was moving so slow that he was sort of floating down toward the ground, like he was just gonna settle soft and light as a feather. But when he landed on his face, there was a horrible heavy thump and things commenced moving again like they normal do.

“Mr. Leroy!”

I ran back and kneeled down beside him.

His eyes were open but he was blinking more than he would most times.

I said, “Please, Mr. Leroy, please get back up!”

I shooked him and he said, “No. You got to go in that stable and get that money, boy. He done thiefed the money for your mother and sister, 'Zekial!”

Mr. Leroy was out of his mind!

I said, “Please, sir, I ain't Ezekial, I'm Elijah, Elijah Freeman!”

He grabbed my arm and said, “Is you gunn do it? Is you gunn get that money, boy?”

I started going all fra-gile. Things commenced loosening in my nose.

He said, “Promise me … promise me now!”

What could I do? I whispered, “I ain't Ezekial, I'm Elijah.”

He said, “Promise me! Promise me you'll get that money and if he done lost it, promise me you's gunn gut-shoot him!”

“Please, Mr. Leroy, please get up. Please don't leave me here alone!”

He said, “Son, caint you see I'm dying? Please tell me, please tell me you's gunn get the money for your ma and sister. That ain't much. 'Zekial, how come you ain't telling me?”

His voice was getting softer and softer and that was worst than if he'd been yelling.

Finally I said, “I promise, sir, I promise I'll do it.”

He smiled and whispered, “Take that pistol, boy.”

I pulled the mystery pistol out of the fancy holster and put it in my tote sack.

He coughed twice and something dark and thick started leaking out of his mouth and nose.

The last things he said were, “I love you, son. Tell your ma I …”

His eyes stayed open but I knowed they waren't seeing nothing.

I shooked him and said, “Mr. Leroy? Oh, please, Mr. Leroy!”

I ran back to Mr. Alston to try and get some help.

I busted right in on the men and yelled, “Excuse me, sir, Mr. Leroy fell off the horse and ain't moving!”

Mr. Alston said, “What you say, boy? Calm yourself down and don't be talking that fast.”

I catched my breath and said, “Mr. Leroy fell off the horse and ain't breathing!”

They ran back with me and bunched up 'round where Mr. Leroy was laying.

Mr. Alston looked at Mr. Leroy and put his hands over his eyes to close them. He said, “Son, he pass. Y'all kin?”

“No, sir.”

“Y'all's both from Buxton?”

“Yes, sir.”

“You got anyone up here what can look after you?”

I started to say no but knowed if I did and if Mr. Leroy really was dead, they waren't gonna let keep my promise, they waren't gonna let me hunt the Preacher down and get Mr. Leroy's money back.

I said, “Yes, sir, my aunty lives just over yon.” I pointed south.

Mr. Alston said, “We gonna have to get the sheriff, boy. Tell your aunty she need to come claim him else they gonna put him in the paupers' field.”

I said, “I'll have to tell my pa in Buxton. They'll come and get Mr. Leroy.”

I grabbed Jingle Boy's reins and never looked back.

A promise is a promise and I waren't 'bout to let Mr. Leroy down. I was gonna find the Preacher if it took me ten years. And I was gonna start with the East Lee stable.

So Mr. Alston and the other men wouldn't get suspicious I headed south, pretending I was riding hard back to Buxton.

I circled 'round and started back north. I saw the stable from two blocks off. There was a hitching post just down from it so I tied Jingle Boy and commenced walking the rest of the way. I dug five of the chunking stones out of my tote sack and put three in my left hand and two in my right. I didn't have notion the first what a bear-fighting dog would look like so I hoped five stones would be enough in case me and it had a disagreement.

As I got right on the stable, it happened in a flash. First thing that came to mind was Pa telling me that I didn't never have to worry 'bout no barking dog, that it was barking 'cause it was just as scared as me. He said it was the quiet dog I had to be afeared of. That was the kind of dog that waren't interested in scaring no one, it was only looking to bite something big and meaty off of you.

Afore I seen anything I heard the sound of a chain rattling, then a hard grunt like something heavy was changing directions sudden-like. Other than those soft sounds this bear-fighting dog was quiet as a owl diving at a mouse.

I saw a big black blur coming at me and, at the same time as I tried to get out of the way, I throwed left-right-left hard as I could.

I heard a chain sing from getting pulled taut and the bear-fighting dog's paws hit me square in the side so strong that the last two chunking stones flewed out of my hand. I waren't nothing but a dead duck!

A spray of the dog's slobber splashed on my face and I hit the ground hard, knocking my breathing right out of me. The dog still didn't bark or nothing but his front paws pressed like fists into my ribs. All I could do was wonder if he was gonna rip me apart or squeeze the life out of me by standing on my chest.

I closed my eyes and waited to get suffocated or tored limb from limb.

But didn't nothing happen. I opened my eyes and saw the dog was out cold, his head was lolling up 'gainst my side. The head was huge, just 'bout the size of a five-month-old calf's head, and was covered with scars. He was breathing fast, like he'd just chased a rabbit, and little snorts of dust were blowing up with each breath he took. His feet were twitching like dogs do when they're having a nightmare.

Just that quick I noticed my ribs. It felt like someone had run a knife into 'em and I looked down. The nails from one of the bear-fighting dog's front paws had disappeared into the front of my shirt and my blood was starting to leak out. I rolled from underneath the dog's legs, then rolled twice more and laid in the dirt waiting for my breathing to catch back up to me.

After 'bout five or six big gulps of air I pulled my shirt up to see if any bones were poking through. There waren't nothing there but three tiny holes where his claws had gone in and only one hole was bleeding atall. I felt to make sure waren't nothing broke. Other than poking three holes in me, it seemed like the bear-fighting dog hadn't done nothing worst than knock the air out of my chest.

I stood up and put two more chunking stones in my hand then walked over toward the dog. One of my stones had caught him right twixt the eyes. I knowed it was the second left-hand one I chunked. There was a big knot swelling up there already. His tongue was hanging out from twixt long yellow and brown teeth that were 'bout the size of bear claws. There was a little puddle of mud spreading in the dust where his tongue was resting. I didn't think I'd hurt him too bad, but I waren't gonna wait 'round to find out.

I leaned against the door that led into the stable and pushed.

 

When you first walk into a room in a house, or into a clearing in the woods, or into the inside of a stable like this one, they have a way of telling you they know you're there. It ain't nothing particular noticeable, but the air inside of 'em changes like it's saying, “I'm watching you.” Some of the time it seems like the air's smiling and saying, “I'm watching
over
you, come on in,” and some of the time it seems like it's all a-frowning and saying, “I'm watching you, and you
best
be careful.” But I'd got into this stable so quiet and sneakish that
nothing
knowed I'd cracked open the door, held my breath, and took a step inside.

I eased the door back shut, stood still, and waited for my eyes to get use to the dark.

All I could see was black, but going by what I was hearing, I figured there must've been five or six horses held up in here. There was the
swish-swish-swish
of tails going at flies, there was the
bumpty-bump-bump
of hoofs shifting and scraping whilst trying to get comfortable, there was the steady, easy, deep breathing of animals that had been worked hard trying to get some sleep. There was also a slow
woo-woo-woo
sound from a barn owl hid out waiting for a mouse to make a mistake.

It didn't sound like there was nothing to worry 'bout … right off.

I let air come out of my mouth easy and breathed back in through my nose.

BOOK: Elijah of Buxton
4.4Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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