Freedom Stone (15 page)

Bett stuck her head out the door and called to Plato, who ran back inside. As Bett had suspected, the bucket was empty and his clothes were soaked from playing in the stream. She steered him to the worktable, crouched down in front of him and held the batter bowl out to him.

“Boy,” she said, “you got to spit in the cake.”

“Why?” Plato asked.

“It's your cake, ain't it?” Bett asked.

Plato nodded.

“Then we gotta make sure you're the only one what eats it,” Bett said. “Ain't nobody gonna touch it if you tells 'em it's got your spit.”

Plato beamed, spat messily into the bowl and laughed delightedly at what he'd just done. Lillie looked at him with mingled feelings. In one afternoon, she'd lied first to her mama and then to her brother. She reckoned she felt low about that, but she reckoned too that she had no choice.

Chapter Fifteen

THE WAGONS LOADED for the Saturday party at what would normally have been the dinner hour at Greenfog. Some of the slaves, particularly the ones Lillie's age, ate a light supper in their cabins first so that they wouldn't get too hungry on the ride to Bingham Woods. Most of the adults ate nothing at all—the women not wanting to grow too full for the dancing, the men wanting to save room both for the roasted hog they knew they would eat and the whiskey they hoped they would drink. Lillie, like the adults, ate nothing—though for her it was worry that claimed her appetite. Even if she did try to force down some food, her jumping stomach would probably not let her hold on to it.

Perhaps, she thought, this was a fool idea after all. Perhaps there were other ways. Hadn't Bett said that her oven and its black stone could work more magic than just the kind she'd told her about? Maybe that magic was too dangerous, but could it be more dangerous than a slave girl running alone on a dark road at night? With effort, Lillie pushed those thoughts from her head. She and Bett had come up with a plan for tonight, and that plan had seemed like a good one. It was no surprise that it wouldn't seem as good now, when the time was coming close that it would be more than just planning. But that, Lillie reckoned, was fear talking. “The charm will carry you,” Bett had said, and Lillie would have to trust that it would.

The three wagons that would be carrying the thirty or so slaves to Bingham Woods lined up on the dirt path not far from the cabins. The overseer and the slave drivers were there too and would be traveling to the party as well. Louis was given the first wagon to mind—the one that carried the mamas and the oldest girls. Slave women on the way to a slave party liked to use the ride to laugh and gossip in private, usually about the men. The overseer never imagined they'd cause any trouble and thus set only one whip man to watch them. The second wagon carried the men, and both Mr. Willis and Bull were seated with them. Give a wagonful of slave men a smell of the world, the overseer feared, and there was no telling what thoughts of running it would give them. Best to have two whips handy just to be safe.

The last wagon—as always—would carry the slave children, and nobody believed they needed to be guarded. No child on any plantation had tried to escape in as long as anyone in Beaufort County could remember. Most were spooked enough on a country road late at night that they'd huddle together for the entire ride, no likelier to jump from the wagon than from the roof of the Big House itself.

Lillie, Plato and Mama dressed in their party finery shortly before it was time to board the wagons, and they made a handsome group. The last time they'd all dressed so prettily, Papa had been with them. When Lillie thought of that, she felt a wave of sadness come over her, but she pushed it away. Mama was surely feeling the same thing, but Mama wasn't showing it, lest she spoil the family's fun. Lillie guessed she could contain her feelings just the same.

The three of them left the cabin and stepped out into the late-summer crispness, hand in hand. Mama enjoyed promenading with her smart and well turned-out family and couldn't resist looking this way and that to see if any other slaves were noticing them. They'd all gone no more than a few yards, however, before their good spirits froze up hard. Coming toward them through the lowering shadows was Mr. Willis. The family stopped where they were, and as the overseer drew near, he looked them up and down with the appraising eye of a slave buyer at auction.

“Awful pretty family, Franny,” he said to Mama. Then, with a leer that made Lillie feel ill, he looked Mama up and down an extra time and added, “And an awful fine-lookin' mama too.”

“Thank you, sir,” Mama said. “Just tryin' not to be late for the wagons.”

“Wagons ain't goin' nowhere without me,” Mr. Willis answered. His gaze stayed on Mama, then it shifted to Lillie. The hungry, smirking expression he wore didn't change. “I expect I'll see you ladies doin' some fine dancin' tonight.”

Lillie started to say something, but Mama answered for her. “Child's too young for dancin',” she said. “She might take a turn with the other girls, but that's all.”

Willis laughed unpleasantly. “A girl growin' up as ripe as this one don't look too young for dancin' to me,” he said. “Course, she ain't never gonna be as much of a picture as her mama. Looks more like the papa—taller, bonier.”

Lillie, despite her fear of the man, looked up at him with a glare she could barely control. Willis didn't notice. Instead, he turned his attention to Plato.

“You best protect these ladies tonight, boy,” he directed. “Keep 'em from forgettin' how to behave themselves with so much dancin' and liquor around.”

Plato shrank against Mama, and Mama held him by the shoulder. “The boy ain't comin' tonight. I'm takin' him to the Big House kitchen now.”

“Too bad, son,” the overseer said. “No dances for you this year, and by next year ...” He allowed his words to trail off, leaving only their meaning behind. By next year, those unsaid words were saying, Plato would be gone.

Willis turned and walked off and Mama stood staring at him, her face rock-still but a twitch playing about her mouth. Lillie watched the little man striding away and felt nothing but a cold, clear loathing. It was a frightening feeling, if only because it was so big and so sudden—a feeling that seemed like it could get away from her if she wasn't careful.

“He don't think I'll be big enough for the dances next year, Mama?” Plato asked.

Mama collected herself before speaking. “That silly man don't know what he's talkin' about,” she said with a shaky laugh. “By next year you'll be big enough to look down at the top o' that pink head o' his.” Plato laughed and Mama turned to Lillie and spoke seriously. “I'm takin' the boy to the Big House. You go straight to them wagons, and I'll join you there presently. Don't get in no trouble on the way.”

Lillie nodded and gave Plato a kiss on his forehead, then ran off toward the wagons. When she arrived, she was pleased to see that the children's wagon was indeed last in line—and that Samuel was at the reins. As the oldest and slowest of the rig-drivers, he was considered the best choice to drive the wagon that wouldn't need much minding. With his fading eyesight and wandering thinking, Samuel had to pay such close attention to the road that it was unlikely he'd notice her jumping quietly out of the back.

The wagon was mostly full by now, but there was still a spot or two at the back, which was where Lillie needed to be if she was going to hop off with a minimum of fuss. She frowned when she saw that Cal was seated far at the front. She knew that it would not have been a good idea for her to ride directly beside Cal tonight, since she found it hard to imagine that a boy like him could watch her jump down into the road and run off into the darkness without taking it into his head to light out after her just for the sport of the thing. Still, the idea of sitting close to him in the bouncing wagon had been playing in her mind for the past few days.

The last time the young slaves had been taken to a party, she'd indeed sat directly next to Cal and in the middle of the ride, the wagon suddenly hit a rut and jumped. He grabbed her arm to keep her from losing her seat and held it fast till the bouncing stopped, continuing to talk the whole while and never seeming to notice what he was doing. Lillie guessed that was the most mannerly thing a boy had ever done for her. Tonight Cal was sitting with the slave boys Benjy and Cupit, the three of them bunched together, talking low and close, just as they had been when Lillie caught them near the cabins more than a week earlier. She didn't like the look of that, but with her mind so full of worries of her own, she pushed the thought aside.

Finally, Lillie looked for one more face and found Minervy also seated near the back, though she was wedged between two other girls. That was a problem, but it couldn't be helped. When Lillie hopped aboard, she squeezed herself next to Minervy, pushing away another girl, who glared at her. Minervy herself seemed pleased that Lillie wanted to sit beside her and shimmied over to make room.

Tonight, Lillie noticed, Minervy looked prettier than she had ever seen her, with green and red bows in her hair and a white cotton dress, hemmed clean and straight with no tatters Lillie could see. The dress was too big for Minervy, which meant her mama had made it only recently and expected it to last her two or three years. What Lillie noticed even more than Minervy's pretty clothes and hair was her face. There were none of the usual fret lines on her forehead or worry crinkles about her eyes. Her face looked like the face of a child—which is how it ought to look, but almost never did.

“Didn't eat so much as a nibble tonight,” Minervy said brightly. “My papa said the Bingham Woods slaves make a hog as sweet as cane, and I aim to have some.”

“Fine hog,” Lillie answered, trying to muster something else to say but feeling too jumpy and distracted. She looked about herself nervously, taking the measure of her surroundings—the nearness of the other wagons, the darkness of the night, the height of the jump from her seat to the ground. None of them brought her much comfort.

“My mama said she didn't want me doin' no dancin', least not with boys,” Minervy went on, whispering now and sidling up to Lillie. “What'd your mama say?”

“Same,” Lillie answered. “No boy dancin'.”

“Mamas ain't watchin' the whole time, though, is they?” Minervy said, giggling.

Lillie looked at her. “Watchin' what?” she said. “Who ain't watchin'?”

“The mamas! Lillie, are you listenin' to me?”

“Yes,” Lillie said, her mind buzzing. “No. I don't know.” She shook her head to clear it. “No, Minervy, I ain't listenin'. I need to talk to you.”

“What'd you do?” Minervy asked immediately. She looked at Lillie anxiously, her smooth face crinkling right back up. “What'd you do wrong?”

“Didn't do nothin',” Lillie whispered as low as she could. “But I'm gonna do somethin', and you gotta know 'cause you gotta help.”

“What are you on about?”

“I'm gonna jump, girl. Soonest we get to the fork in the road, I'm gonna slip off, go take care o' some business, and come back. No one gots to know, 'specially no white folks nor grown slaves.”

“Lillie!” Minervy hissed. “You're thinkin' wild.”

“I'm thinkin' straight. Straight as I ever thought.”

“You'll get caught for sure!”

“I won't get caught.”

“Can't no slave travel roads like this at night, least of all a child slave.”

“I can.”

“How?”

“Never mind. I got ways.”

“But what for? Ain't no business worth gettin' caught, flogged and sold off.”

“Mine is,” Lillie said. “And I'm gonna go do it.” She looked at Minervy hard and straight, her tone flat. “I'm doin' this and ain't nothin' gonna tell me otherwise. But I still need your help, else I won't get away.”

Minervy studied Lillie's face. Lillie thought she'd turn away, but Minervy didn't. The girl had a keen sense for how to avoid trouble, and along the way had taught herself to manage it when it came anyway. There was no doubt in Minervy's mind that Lillie meant what she said about jumping. That would lead either to terrible things or not so terrible things—depending on whether Lillie got caught. And it was Minervy who could make the difference.

“What can I do?” she asked simply.

Lillie leaned into her. “You got a way about you, girl. I see it when you talk to the little ones. I tell 'em to shush, they don't shush. You tell 'em—with that voice and that face and that no-foolin' way—they shush.” She gestured to the other children in the wagon. “When I jump, you got to do the same with them.”

“These ain't babies, Lillie. Some of 'em's older'n me.”

“Don't matter. They still ain't grown, which means they got children's ways. You, girl, you got a mama's ways.”

Minervy started to protest, but stopped herself. Lillie was right, and they both knew it.

“But what about Samuel?” Minervy asked. “He ain't a child.”

“He also can't hardly hear nor see. The whole lot of us could jump out 'fore he'd notice.”

Minervy, despite herself, laughed. Then she took Lillie's hand and squeezed it hard. “I'll do what you need,” she said at last. “I don't like it, but I will. You just come back.”

Lillie said nothing and looked away, her heart starting to pound. At that moment, she saw Mama, without Plato, hurrying toward the wagons. Lillie raised her hand and smiled to show she was where she was supposed to be. Mama waved back, then climbed aboard the women's wagon. Lillie was seized with the terrible fear that she'd just waved good-bye to her mama forever. Before she could go further with that dark thought, all three wagons jerked into motion.