Sweet Song (10 page)

“Yo’ steal it?”

“It was a gift,” Leon said.

“Mighty fine.” Bob shook his head and got back to his former conversation. He stumbled and reached out for Jesse’s arm. Bob was
the oldest by far. He walked as though every step was a struggle, but that keeping up was his lifeline.

Leon wondered whether freedom was worth it to men this old and planned to ask when he got the chance.

A little over half a day’s walk, with a few rests, the men quieted and slowed. Cracker-Jack came back along the ranks to Leon. “Jimmy White, you beg for some food.”

Leon’s eyes widened with fear. “I’ve never begged for food.” His feet moved around as if he couldn’t find a comfortable spot to stand. “I wouldn’t do it right.”

Buddy grabbed Leon’s pack. “You got a better chance than any of us.”

“What do I ask for?”

“A few day’s rations. Tell them you headed upriver for a job.” Buddy stroked his beard. “They’ll listen to you.”

“Can’t you just steal what you need?”

“Wham-dammit,” Bob said. “We gonna steal whilest you gettin’ your rations.”

“What if they notice?”

Cracker-Jack pulled Buddy’s hand from Leon’s shoulder and stepped in to turn Leon toward the farmhouse. He shoved Leon forward. “I show you.” After a few steps, Cracker-Jack slapped Leon to his knees. “Git down and follow me.”

Behind some bushes, Leon followed Cracker-Jack’s finger as he indicated the farmer and oldest son near the far woods fixing a fence, and then two young girls playing around their mother hanging clothes on a line along the side of the house. A chicken coop surrounded by cackling hens stood near the barn, and a pigpen had been poorly fashioned behind the coop.

Cracker-Jack turned to go back into the woods. Leon followed, his hands shaking.

“Listen, boy, we steal a piglet and a couple chickens, what ever we can get without no ruckus.” Cracker-Jack gathered his thoughts. “Me, Josh, Buddy, and Jesse do the stealin’. Bob already headin’ south to make camp.”

Leon looked for Bob and got smacked by a wide hand across his ear.

“Son, pay attention. Whatever happen you go into the woods the same way you comes out. If they thinks you headed North, they won’t look South.”

Jesse sniggered.

Leon rubbed the pain from his ear. He said, “What if there’s a lot of noise?”

“Go north into the woods and circle around. Dat farmer won’t track us, He’ll stay wit his family, afraid we be luring him into the wood like a pack a wild dogs,” Cracker-Jack said. “They mama can’t see the coop from where you’ll be standin’. We’ll be travelin’ behind the barn. You act as surprised as they do at any ruckus. You jus’ gets your rations and leisurely walk back north where you come from.”

Leon held his breath. He couldn’t refuse. The plan was set. He gripped his burlap sack. As soon as he walked toward the edge of the woods, the four others took off as fast as four old men can. Leon saw that they had sacks ready for their catch.

Before stepping into the sun, Leon rubbed his fingers along the brim of his hat. He took a deep breath and hummed. He walked into the open. Out the corner of his eye, he noticed that the farmer and his son were too busy to see him walking toward their house.

Rounding the corner from the front porch, the two little girls stopped playing, alerting the mother something was amiss.

She was dressed in a dirty white dress and had an apron tied across her front. She had clothes pegs in her mouth. When she saw Leon, she removed the pins and dropped them into the basket at her feet.

Leon removed his hat. He stood three heads above the woman, so he bent slightly out of courtesy. “Sorry to bother you, ma’am, but I’ve been traveling upriver looking for work.” He swallowed. His mouth went dry. “It’s been some days now. I could use—“

“Something to eat,” she said, her voice sweet and soft.

Leon continued to look at the basket between her legs. “Yes, ma’am.”

She glanced toward her husband and son at the far end of the field. “I think we can spare a bit.” She didn’t appear nervous at all.

Then, Leon heard a noise and a loud cackle from the chicken coop. He jumped.

The woman said, “That’s some chickens fighting out back. Don’t pay it no mind.”

Then a pig squealed.

The woman turned from the front door to say something else. Her eyes opened wide. Leon jumped back. While the woman spoke, Leon turned on his heels and ran for the woods.

“Don’t you want—“ Her voice trailed behind him. He hit the woods and kept going, making a wide loop.

By the time his heart slowed and he stopped, his feet had already blistered. Tears ran down his face, and his hands shook uncontrollably. He thought of the woman and two children and how friendly they had been. They took him as white. He sensed it. He should have looked her in the eye. He laughed at his misplaced fear. She probably went back to her clothes line wondering why the hell he ran away. Her husband would learn what had happened soon enough once he returned for the evening chores. By then, it would be too late.

Leon half walked and half ran west toward the river. When it was in view, he turned south.

Leon missed his home regardless of how isolated he had felt there. He missed having a father who would scuff his neck and chase him, a father who told him that he loved him.

A hawk screeched overhead, and when Leon looked up he saw it plummet to the ground toward some small animal. It landed in tall golden grass, but in a moment was back in the air, a young rabbit, gray and struggling, hung from clenched talons.

The hot sun fell lower in the sky. Its color changing as the magical light of twilight approached.

Leon ran. He had no idea how he would find the camp, but decided to enter the darkening woods in hopes that he’d stumble upon it. He was sorry he didn’t stay at the homestead long enough to get some food. If he couldn’t find the camp, he’d have nothing to eat. He patted the sack hanging from the rope belt he wore around his waist. If he did run into the roamers, he’d save some food in case he got separated from them later.

As the air turned cooler and the night spread through the woods, Leon heard the nocturnal animals wandering a short
distance away. A raccoon growled as Leon passed too close to where it sat in the crook of a tree. Deer ran off when he stumbled. Owls hooted. The music of the night sounded much different than day sounds.

Leon tried to be alert to the slightest flicker of a campfire, or the softest sound of men talking. He followed what looked like a trail, where men could have traveled. Eventually, unbelievably, he heard them. It was too dark, by then, to run full-tilt through the woods, but he could jog, so he picked up the pace. His stomach anticipated the food they would surely be cooking. And he kept sniffing the air.

As he approached camp, Leon only counted four men. He slowed and looked around. Perhaps Jesse was collecting wood for the fire. When he took his next step a loud snap came from above. Leon glanced up as a pine branch slapped him on the back of his neck. Jesse stood to the side with his hand on the other end of the branch where he was bending it back.

“Why’d you do that?” Leon yelled.

“I was out scoutin’ for you.”

“How’d you get so far ahead of me?”

“We walk straight,” Jesse said. “We saw you runnin’ too. You goin’ so fast you probably miles before you turn south.”

Leon swatted at the branch and Jesse let it go.

“I smell somethin’.” Leon said.

“You runnin’ off, we had to cut our work too. Got one piglet and one chicken. You smell the pork.”

Leon’s mouth watered. He followed Jesse back into camp.

Jesse announced, “Looky what I find.”

Leon was amazed to see the men all smile at him as he entered camp.

“A little practice,” Cracker-Jack said. The others laughed.

“Sit down,” Buddy said. There was a place for Leon to sit with them. “You musta felt somethin’ wrong to run as fast as Jesse say.”

“I heard the chickens,” Leon said.

“She say anything?”

“She said the chickens were fighting.”

“See, she weren’t worried,” Buddy said.

“I know,” Leon observed the grease sizzling from the piglet hanging over the fire. “That’s a mighty big piglet.”

Cracker-Jack pointed, “Big Josh carry that big brother all the way his self.”

Leon nodded. Big Josh waved him off.

“The lesson,” Cracker-Jack got back to the conversation, “is to pay attention to her. If she ain’t worried, you ain’t worried. But if she tell one the kids to go look, then you run.” He laughed. “But you know how to run. We sees that.”

“Next time,” Bob added to the instruction, “will ya ask for some lip-lapin’ liquor? I could use a drink ‘bout now.”

“We’ll do that juss for you, Bob. Won’t we Jimmy White?” Cracker-Jack said.

“They won’t give no liquor to no boy,” Buddy said.

“I go wit him,” Bob said. “I be white, too.” He sat straight. “Excuse me Ma’am. I been in the sun too long today. Got terribly brown. I think a little cup of liquor be ding-dong dandy for gettin’ me back white.”

“You no browner than a cow turd in the sun. She’d scream, “No liquor for you. You black.” Jesse screeched like a woman and bounced his hands near his mouth in mock surprise.

Bob straightened again. “Right you are ma’am, which mean I already hallucinatin’ without my liquor.”

“Your masters let you have liquor?” Leon asked. “We only had it when there a couple jumpin’ the broom.”

“Don’t mock us, boy,” Cracker-Jack said.

Leon turned away.

“My Cookie use to bring it to the shack late,” Bob said, lips twitching like he remembered the flavor. “We stay up late talkin’ and laughin’. I know the children think we didlin’ and they pretend a sleep. But we juss playin’.” He stared off. “Juss playin’ and bein’ in love.”

“I recall those days,” Buddy said. “They no sweeter than now.”

“Every day you alive is sweet,” Cracker-Jack said.

Big Josh started to sing, then. “Swing low, sweet chariot…”

The others joined in as a quieter background.

Leon knew the song. He’d sometimes sing it when his own words didn’t come. He joined in. After a few bars, the others all stopped singing and stared at Leon. “What are you lookin’ at?”

Cracker-Jack said in surprise, “You got a strong voice, boy.”

“Yeah, you sing alone for a moment,” Jesse said.

Big Josh nodded and motioned for Leon to continue.

After Leon sang a few more bars, Bob slapped his knee. “Big-dammit, you sings like a nigger.”

Leon stopped singing. “I am,” he said.

The men got serious and looked at each other. Bob was about to say something when Cracker-Jack spoke up. “Could you maybe read to us from that there book you got?”

“Yeah, Jimmy White, that a good idea. After we eats maybe,” Bob said.

“Eatin’s ready,” Jesse took up a knife and carved the piglet.

Everyone leaned near the fire to get his share of the meat. Leon wanted to go back to singing where he felt safe, but ate quietly with the rest of them.

After licking his fingers and running them down his pant leg, Leon opened the burlap sack and took out his book. He blew dust and burlap string from it, then opened the cover.

The fire snapped and popped. Jesse bent toward it and poked a log with his finger. The fire settled and sparks flew into the air, floating magically upward into the dark night before cooling and fading.

After Leon read a few poems, the others found their blankets and sleeping spots. Leon curled next to the fire, his back to it. In the woods, fireflies, like loose coals from the fire blinked in the dark. The sounds of animals foraging, grunting, and hissing, came into their camp from the woods. Leon drew the smell of loam, sweet and strong, into his lungs. The fire warmed his back, softening his tense muscles, relaxing his skin until he fell asleep. He woke in the dark with a start. He dreamed that Big Leon had fallen into the muck, bleeding from his wounds. He heard rifle shots over and over again.

The cold had seeped into his back. His arms ached. Leon shuffled to a sitting position. The fire was nearly out, but he found a stick lying nearby and turned the coals until bright red blazed again.
He crawled over and grabbed two small pieces of dried wood and placed them on the fire. In a moment, yellow flames snaked around the wood and the air became warmer.

It must have been close to sun-up because a damp, low fog had crept in. Leon rubbed his arms to get warm, then reached for another log.

“Cain’t sleep?” Bob was sitting up.

“No.”

“Who you watch die?” Bob whispered.

Leon stared into the fire.

“If you ain’t kilt nobody, then you seen somebody kilt. I kin see it in you face. Seen it that first day I seen you eyes in the clear sun.”

Leon lowered his head. “My pappy.”

Bob pursed his lips, then opened his mouth, but made no sound.

“He died savin’ my life.”

The fire popped.