Elijah of Buxton (31 page)

When I busted 'round the corner I saw Mr. Alston squatting 'gainst a wagon wheel watching the other men tossing the white spotty boxes. Ain't nothing like a hard galloping horse that'll get folks' attention. All the men jumped up like they'd got caught doing something wrong.

I jumped off Jingle Boy and yelled, “Mr. Alston! Mr. Alston! They got people they're taking back to slavery! They're 'bout to march 'em out tomorrow! They got a woman and her baby and some Africans and a boy who ain't no older'n me! But we gotta hurry! And they killed the Preacher and got him hanging in the stable!”

Mr. Alston grabbed ahold of me. “Slow down, boy! What you saying?”

It took a second for my breathing to catch up to me, then I said, “There's four paddy-rollers that's kidnapped six people and are taking 'em down south! We can get 'em out! There's only one watching over 'em di-rect and he's passed out from drinking! There's even a baby! We can get 'em out!”

He said, “We can do
what
?”

The other men looked hard at me and Mr. Alston.

“We can get 'em out, sir. They're feeling pretty low but once we get 'em going toward Buxton I know they'll lively up some!”

One of the gambling men laughed and said, “Man, pass me them dice. That boy crazy.”

Mr. Alston turned me a-loose and said, “Son, you needs to get to Canada and tell your people 'bout that man what die. How come you ain't left yet?”

“Yes, sir, I will, but they're taking these runaways out first thing in the morning! We gotta free 'em now! I swored to Mrs. Chloe we'd get her out!”

Then I remembered how afeared the men were when they told me 'bout the bear-fighting dog. I said, “Oh! You don't need to worry. I already knocked the dog cold. It's all right!”

Mr. Alston said, “Boy, I ain't playing. You needs to get on your horse and get your people. Ain't no one freeing no one. This ain't Canada, this America. They ain't nowhere near the same. I do truly feel for them poor souls what's been caught, but they gots laws here. If we was to get tangled up in this mess they be selling
us
down the river. Ain't no one 'round gunn help. It was the sheriff what let them slave hunters lay over in that stable.”

One of the men said, “Didn't no one bust me free when I was in 'Bama. Why'm I gunn risk my neck for some folks I don't know what's stupid enough to get caught?”

I didn't know what to say.

I turned to the men and said, “But we're all …”

The one with the dice cuffed me upside my head.

“You heard the man, get on outta here. Don't no one want to be hearing none of the mess you talking. We ain't 'bout to brook your nonsense. 'Sides, I'm on a roll, you messing with my game!”

I said, “But they're near dead, they caint barely …”

The man punched me in the chest, knocking me down and sending the breath right out of me.

Mr. Alston grabbed ahold of him and said, “Ain't no need for that!”

The man yelled at me, “Boy! You best get away from me 'fore I kills you! We done told you, ain't nothing can be done! You best get you'self back to Canada. We don't need none y'all freeborn Buxton fools coming up here making no trouble for us! I ain't 'bout to go back and be no slave.”

I got up and started running back to Jingle Boy.

I was so dumbstruck I couldn't even cry.

Jingle Boy snuffled at me when I got to him. I crawled up on his back. I headed him out toward the road and felt something leaping 'round in my belly. Next thing I knowed I was leaning over and throwing up my supper from Ma and the milk from Cooter's ma. I throwed up over and over till waren't nothing coming out of me but bitter water that I ain't got no recollection of drinking. Once that was gone, I throwed up air whilst my guts twisted and jumped.

I knowed this didn't have nothing to do with the bear-fighting dog hitting me in the side nor the man punching me in the chest. I knowed this waren't nothing but my conscience talking to me 'cause I was gonna have to break my promise to Mrs. Chloe. There waren't no sense in going back to the stable to try and free her and them Africans. The best thing I could do was ride Jingle Boy hard back to Buxton and see what Ma and Pa would say we should do.

But my conscience knowed that by the time I got down there and they put a posse together and came all the way back up here those slavers would've took Mrs. Chloe away and there wouldn't be no way to figure out where.

I had to choose twixt going back and telling her no one could help or getting to Buxton quick as I could 'cause maybe,
maybe,
something could get done. But my conscience was chewing at me and choking on my guts 'cause it knowed that was a waste of time. The gambling man was right. Couldn't nothing nor no one help now.

The tears finally came. I was gonna listen to Mrs. Chloe. She told me not to come back. I dug my heels into Jingle Boy's sides and pointed him south, down the road to Buxton.

I was pushing Jingle Boy harder than I should've, but it was for a good reason. Not just 'cause I wanted Ma and Pa's help on this confusion, but also 'cause with Jingle Boy running so hard, I was hoping that the only thing I'd want to think 'bout was hanging on tight so I wouldn't get tossed. But it waren't working, all his bumping and jarring couldn't make me quit thinking.

I thought 'bout how my conscience and Ma's cookie jar snake were pretty much alike. Seemed that no matter how hard and fast I tried to run away from either one of 'em, I ended up carrying it right along without even knowing I'd done it. 'Bout the only difference twixt the two was that it 'peared the snake had been a whole lot easier to toss down and be rid of than my conscience was gonna be.

Me and Jingle Boy waren't even a mile out of the little logging village when I pulled up the reins and stopped him.

It waren't nothing 'gainst the horse but, doggone-it-all, I wished I was riding Old Flapjack instead.

If this was Old Flap we'd've been going so slow that I wouldn't've had no choice but to try and figure out what to do. All the bouncing Jingle Boy was doing whilst he galloped made it so's I waren't able to get ahold of a thought and work it all the way through. And even though there was some comforting in that, I knowed I had to stop him afore I made a real bad choice.

The thought that was mostly plaguing me was Mrs. Chloe talking that growned-up language then looking so disappointed in me when she saw I waren't understanding it.

Growned folks have whole slews of ways of crushing your spirits if you're young. And if I got one weakness to what they do, it ain't when they holler at me or switch me or chase after me to try and 'buke me. If they really want to squash all the happiness out of me, it seems all they gotta do is tell me they're disappointed in something that I did.

It's even worst when they don't come right out and say they're disappointed but instead look at me and wrinkle their brow then turn away whilst shaking their head a little. They seem to get so doggoned sad. For some reason, that hurts more than any switching or beating they can lay on you.

If I was gonna think this through, I knowed I was gonna have to quit worrying 'bout the disappointment and put all my thoughts on the growned-up language Mrs. Chloe used on me. I know it had something to do with her lying 'bout her baby loving me so much, something that both of us knowed waren't true, but I still couldn't cipher what it meant. How's a baby gonna love someone they ain't never seen afore? And how's a baby's ma gonna lie like that? That don't make no sense, that don't make no sense atall.

But why
did
she want to pretend that me and that girl was some sort of kin to each other, that there was something strong twixt me and …?

I'm gonna sound like I'm being boastful and pridesome, but what I'm 'bout to say is the truth, and if it's the truth it ain't boasting:

Why, my brain is so powerful amazing that some of the time it leaves me dumbstruck!

Here all these things had been happening and trying to pull my mind away from what was right in front of me, then in two shakes of a lamb's tail my brain told me what Mrs. Chloe was really saying! It even told me
why
she said it!

And that ain't nothing but more proving of what I been saying all along, riding a mule's a whole lot better than riding a horse. Why, if I hadn't pulled Jingle Boy up, I'd be halfway to Buxton by now without getting a chance to have a proper thought, and it might be too late!

I dug my heels into Jingle Boy again and headed him hard north, back toward the little logging village, back to the stable.

 

The bear-fighting dog had got back up on his feet. His tail was twixt his legs and he was staggering 'round and whining and looking like he waren't seeing too good. If I'd've been fra-gile as Emma Collins I'd've felt sorry for him, but I recalled the bite on Mr. Kamau's leg and the three new holes I had in my side and I didn't feel no sorrow atall.

I throwed left hard as I could and caught him in the same spot as afore. He didn't make a sound, he dropped like a sack of rocks.

I stepped over the dog and eased the stable door back open. This time when I went in, a hinge squeaked and the stable could tell I was there.

I looked at the bundles to the left and my heart stopped, my blood ran cold, and time stood still!

Even though my eyes waren't all the way use to the darkness, I could still see the hole in the barrel of the mystery pistol that Mrs. Chloe was aiming right twixt my eyes! And whilst it had been waving and jumping in my hand, it was steady as iron in hers.

I whispered, “Mrs. Chloe, it's me!”

She took the gun off of me.

She said, “I
told
you not to come back!”

She looked back at the door, and afore I could answer, she said, “Now, where them men you was talking 'bout?”

“They couldn't help. They were too scared.”

She set the gun behind her and picked her baby up.

The disappointment was still in her eyes when she looked at me. I noticed a long time ago when it comes to disappointment, once a growned person feels it for you, you ain't nothing but a dead duck, 'cause caint nothing be done to change their mind.

I took another deep breath so there waren't gonna be no backing off from talking growned, which when you look at it seems to be a powerful lot like lying.

I said, “Mrs. Chloe, pardon me swearing, but it's the blangedest thing! I was riding Jingle Boy back to Buxton and something was bothering me and I couldn't figure out what it was, then it came to me just like that!” I snapped my fingers.

She just watched me hard.

“When I first saw your daughter I was so stupid-fied and shocked that my mind played a low-down, rotten trick on me, but once I got on that horse, I knowed what was plaguing me, I knowed what was wrong! It came to me that that there girl's the spittin' image of my baby sister that died of the fever two years pass!”

Mrs. Chloe kept watching me.

I lied, “Yes, ma'am, my little sister that pass two years ago looked exactly like your baby.”

She said, “Chile, I'm sorry to hear that. I know your'n and your ma's hearts must be busted.”

I said, “Thank you, ma'am. You're right, Ma's heart's busted so bad she won't stop mourning and she's tossed out all her clothes that have any kind of colour in 'em and she won't wear nothing but black 'cause the doctor told her the Lord waren't gonna bless her with no more children.”

Mrs. Chloe didn't say nothing. She looked at me and shooked her head up and down one time.

I said, “And now Ma's always saying what she wouldn't give for just one more look at my baby sister.”

She said, “Your poor ma. Your poor, poor ma.”

I took this as encouragement to lie some more, to keep trying to talk this secret language.

I said, “She's always moping and even terrorfying folks by wandering 'round in the woods at night and saying she'd give anything for one more look, that my sister went too fast, that Ma didn't have the chance to tell her no proper good-bye.”

Mrs. Chloe said, “That's a tragedy. I see through you what a good woman your ma is. She sure done raise a fine boy in you, a fine, fine boy. What kind of world we living in when a good woman like your ma have to shoulder that kind of load and caint have no more babies?”

Once you start lying, it ain't hard to keep going. It's like a ball starts rolling down a hill. But I knowed I had to prettify the story even more. I said, “Yes, ma'am, she goes on and on talking 'bout how she would die happy if she could get just one more look at my sister.

“Then she'll say, if God was truly just and kind, like she knows he is, maybe not only would she get a chance to see my sister one more time, but maybe there'd be some way she could raise another child.”