Which Way Freedom (5 page)

Easter wet one of the rags in the water and dabbed it on
Obi's back. “I didn't tell on you, Obi,” Jason whimpered.

Obi winced when Easter touched an open welt. “I know. It ain't your fault.”

Jason's little face was twisted with worry. “Wilson snuck up on me. Ask what I doin'. I tell him I makin' sure that old sow ain't 'round here.” Sounding hurt and confused, he asked, “Why Master John let Wilson beat us?”

“Somethin's terrible wrong, little Jason,” Easter said. Obi stood up when she finished. She took another rag and cleaned Jason's dirty face and legs.

“Take my mule an' work this row. I talk to Easter minute,” Obi said to Jason.

Jason stroked the animal as it moved down the row of stalks.

“Easter, I ain't waitin' for them soldiers to come get me.”

“What you do, then?”

“Get away from here.”

““You runnin'?” she whispered, looking frightened and as if she might cry.

He nodded.

She stared at the ground. “What about me an' Jason?” she asked.

Obi looked toward the house and spotted Wilson walking toward them.

“Here Wilson come. Talk later.”

No sooner had the armies, East and West, penetrated Virginia
and Tennessee than fugitive slaves appeared within their lines.

Dr. W.E.B. Du Bois From
The Souls of Black Folk

When the sun set, Obi took the mule to the barn for the last time that day. He and Jason finished their chores and cleaned themselves, then Jason went to the kitchen.

Obi needed to think and calm himself. He threaded the needle Easter had just sent with Jason and stitched his shirt.

As always, when he was afraid or lonely, he tried to remember his mother's face. He could remember her screams, but he had to picture her face as Buka had described it to him. As he sewed, he tried to put his mind to his usual fantasy about running away and finding her, but other images clouded this vision.

Instead, he thought about the runaways he'd seen brought back to the Phillips plantation after they were caught by the patterollers. The patterollers were men who policed the countryside. They usually beat up a runaway before he or she was returned to the owner.

The excitement Obi had felt earlier was gone, beaten out of him by Wilson. Yet he'd survived Wilson's lashes. Could the patterollers be any worse?

Easter, calling him from the yard, startled him out of his thoughts. He left the barn and walked to the house for supper. Martha Jennings stayed in the kitchen while they ate. The creases in her long, narrow face seemed deeper than usual. Obi wished she'd hurry and leave so that he could talk to Easter privately. The voices of the men sounded like a distant rumbling from the sitting room.

Martha picked up the ladle, dropped it, and then knocked a wooden plate off the sideboard.

“Got to git an early start tomorrow,” she said. Her voice was shrill.

“Yes, um,” Easter mumbled, giving Obi a puzzled look. Easter and Jason slept on the floor in the kitchen and were always the first ones up. They wondered what she was talking about.

Easter's frown lines appeared on her forehead as she took a spoonful of rice and cowpeas. She'd taken off her field dress and wore the only other clothing she had—another homespun dress worn under a long apron.

Martha sat at her spinning wheel, which was near the fireplace. “Still need cloth. Might as well work a while. Easter, when you and Jason finish eatin', come help me with this spinnin'.”

The children looked at one another. Normally, she'd be in the room with the men and start her spinning after the three of them had finished eating and the kitchen was cleaned.

After they had cleared the kitchen, Jason got the wire carding brushes for cleaning and combing the cotton before it was spun.

Obi walked to the door. He couldn't speak to Easter now, so he'd decided to go to the barn and wait for Buka.

Martha looked at him sadly. “Obi, you stay on here with us. Don't you have tools to fix? Or you want to carve some wood? You can do it here.”

“Mistress, I go in the barn.”

“Stay with us.” Her voice cracked slightly as her leg
moved up and down, treadling the wheel. “Need to stay together as much as we can now.” Her soft brown eyes were wet.

She look the same way the day Jason's mother die,
Obi thought. He recalled how surprised he had been at the way she cried over the dead black woman.

Easter put down her carding brush. “Mistress, what's the matter?”

Martha looked at each of them, brushing the back of her hand across her eyes. She spoke in a whisper. “Y'all let on I told you this, I'll whip you myself. They're sellin' the farm and they're sellin' y'all. We're movin' west. We're gettin' away from this war if we can.”

There was no doubt in Obi's mind now. He had to run. Jason's face was blank. Easter was the only one who spoke. “Mistress, we be sold together?” she asked, trying to sound brave.

Martha shook her head. “Don't be foolish, girl. Master John'll get a good price for you at Master Phillips's. You could be a cook, or a seamstress, or a nurse, or even a ladies' maid. You're a smart, pretty gal. Mistress Phillips will be glad to have you.”

She treadled the wheel furiously. “You learn fast. There ain't nothin' you can't do. Some of the things I showed you, you do better than me now.”

Martha stopped spinning and the tears rolled down her flat cheeks. “You, Obi. They're goin' to sell you in the Charleston market. You're worth maybe one thousand dollars, young and strong as you are. They're sellin' you first. Before the soldiers come back.”

She reached down and rubbed Jason's small, round head. “And you ain't nothin' but a peck of corn, boy. I don't know what we'll do with you. Only thing you know how to do is sing pretty. Maybe get fifty dollars for you—somewheres.”

Jason slowly grasped what she was saying. “Don't want you to sell me, Mistress,” he whined. Easter stared at nothing
in particular and shook her head. Martha continued.

“Missy Holmes is gettin' married. Maybe we'll give you to her for a weddin' present.” She looked again at Obi. “So you see, we better sit here together, because we goir' to be separated soon.”

Obi paced impatiently from one end of the barn to the other while waiting for Buka to arrive. He hoped Buka hadn't come and left while he was in the kitchen. It was important that he talk with him tonight. Wilson and Master John were selling him. By tomorrow night or the next, he had to be on his way.

He opened the barn door to see if a lantern still burned in the house. If Buka didn't come to the barn, then he would go to the shack. The moon was full and bright, but the house was dark. Obi closed the door, wondering what to do, and the hounds stirred, wagging their tails. Easter rushed into the barn. “Have to speak to you,” she said. She sat under the hayloft on the milking stool. Obi sat cross-legged in front of her on the floor.

“Take me an' Jason with you when you run.”

“I can't take you an' Jason,” Obi said. “It too dangerous an' how we get anywhere with him?”

“I take care of him.” She took one of Obi's long, calloused hands in hers. “We always been together, Obi.”

His fantasy about running had never included Easter and Jason. Now that he was faced with the reality of actually leaving, he realized that Easter was right—over the years, they had become a part of him.

He rubbed his forehead. “Maybe I go hide in the wood a while. I could keep a eye on you an' Jason. If you sold to Master Phillips, I could come back for you.”

“What about Jason?”

“If he give or sold to Missy Holmes, we find him easy.”

He felt her hand tremble slightly. “If we separate now, then we never see each other again,” she said, trying to
keep her voice steady. “Remember you tell me one time we was like family—all we had was each other?”

“Sometimes even families have to separate. When them two—Joseph and Pat—on the Phillips place run, they leave their children,” Obi said.

“I hear they comin' back for them.”

“I'll come back for you an' Jason. After I find my way to Mexico.”

“If we don't leave together, we ain't gonna see each other again, Obi.”

“It ain't possible to leave together—Jason too much of a baby, for one thing.”

“I told you I see to Jason.”

Obi's throat tightened. He was glad he couldn't see her determined face. He'd miss her—miss both of them. He thought of the little, scared, barefoot girl wearing a shirttail made out of sacking. Wilson brought her to the farm on an Easter Sunday as a gift for Martha. She wouldn't stop crying until Obi thought to give her some molasses candy.

She ain't no more little girl,
he realized. Suddenly, he wanted to tell her about his dream, and for the first time he shared with someone besides Buka his desire to find his mother.

Easter was quiet a moment when Obi finished talking. “I don't have no remembrance of nothin' except livin' here. You an' Jason my family. Take us with you an' we help you find your ma.”

A pebble hit the barn door and Obi stood up. The dogs whined and wagged their tails. “That's Buka,” Obi said, relieved, as he opened the door. Easter made space for the old man under the hayloft as Obi placed a crate there for him to sit on.

Buka was silent for a few minutes after Obi told him about the soldiers' visit and the family selling the farm.

“This war bring confusion,” he said at last. “Now the time to run. The blacksmith from Master Phillips' place
come see me today. He say black people runnin' off the plantations and escapin' to the Yankee soldier.”

Easter's voice came quietly out of the shadows. “You think me an' Jason can run too?”

Obi broke in before the old man could answer. “I move fast alone. I just hide in the woods. Between me an' you Buka, we keep a eye on Easter an' Jason.”

Buka coughed. “I take all of you to the Sea islands. Big rice plantations with more African than white man. I still have friends an' people there who hide an' protect you. They help you make your way north. Wilson never find you.”

“An' we stay together,” Easter muttered.

Buka stood up stiffly. “Tomorrow, soon as the family sleep, meet me at the creek.”

“When the clock ring nine times they all in bed,” Easter said.

“Anything we have to carry?” Obi asked.

“I take care of all that. I get britches for Jason an' Easter an' other things we need.”

“Britches?” Easter said.

“Dress you like a boy. Jennings put out advertisement for you as a girl. If we caught, it better that patteroller think you a boy.”

Buka shuffled slowly toward the door, and Obi wondered how far the old man would be able to travel. “How long it take to get to the Sea islands?” Obi asked.

“Three nights.” He cleared his throat. “Easter, Obi, come close. Tomorrow at nine, you be sure to come to the creek. Now, this important. If we stopped by patteroller, we say we goin' to a funeral at Brantley's farm. I get pass.”

“Suppose Wilson or Master John catch us—we tell them that too?” Obi asked.

“Don't say nothin' about funeral or the farm to them. Only say that to the patteroller if they run up on us.” He paused. “If Master John beat you till you faint, say nothin'.”

“I know when they all sleep,” Easter said. “Master and
Wilson snore to wake the dead. They sleep fast these days too, from bein' in the field.”

Buka placed his hands on both their shoulders. “You make sure Wilson an' Master John don't catch you leavin'.”

The old man opened the door. Round-shouldered and shriveled, he seemed to disappear into the hedges. Easter followed him, her bare feet gliding lightly over the pebbles.

Obi closed the barn door and climbed into the hayloft. After dreaming so long of escape, the time had finally come. He still felt uneasy about taking Easter and Jason—especially Jason. But Buka was leading them. That should make the trip less difficult and dangerous.

Obi was up the next morning before dawn after a fitful sleep. He and Easter decided at breakfast not to tell Jason anything until it was time to leave. Easter did warn Jason, however, not to do anything that day to anger Wilson or Master John.

As the day wore on, Obi hoped Buka was able to get everything they needed for the trip. Probably someone at the plantation would give Buka clothing and food. He wondered, though, how Buka would obtain a pass.

Easter and Obi worked hard, not wanting to do anything to arouse suspicion.

As soon as the sun set behind the oak grove, Obi wanted to take off across the fields and go to the creek, but he had to wait. Wearily he led the mule to the barn, with Wilson leading the other mule behind him.

At the barn entrance, Wilson left his mule for Obi to take inside and empty the sacks.

Jason brought in the cows while Obi unharnessed the mules. After he put the cows in their stalls, the boy climbed up to the hayloft and threw down hay for the animals. He worked without his usual chatter.

Wilson came to the barn door and broke the silence. “We're takin' the tobacco to Phillips tonight, after supper.”

“Yes, suh,” Obi said, trying not to show any emotion.
Though he knew they could get to the plantation and return to the farm in more than enough time to meet Buka, this sudden change in their routine bothered him. Usually they took the tobacco to the plantation in the morning.

He tried to stay calm as he helped Wilson hitch the wagons to the mules and load the leaves. Maybe Wilson only wanted to make sure they didn't miss any time in the field tomorrow.

Jason jumped out of the hayloft, his eyes asking what his mouth was afraid to. Obi asked for him. “Can Jason come with us, suh?”