by Wendy Lawton
Luckily, at Miss Susan’s, she had learned to sleep lightly enough to wake the instant Miss Lucinda cried. She needed to sleep just as lightly now. She prepared herself to wake the moment she heard wagon wheels on the wooden bridge.
Before falling asleep, she remembered her precious quilt lying atop the trunk in Miss Susan’s room. The soft grunts of the sleeping pigs mingled with the muffled sobs of the lonely girl until a gentleness sort of hummed her to sleep.
Minty woke to the sound of far-off wagon wheels. She scrambled out of her hiding place into the nearby woods. She needed to stay close enough to hear when Rufus finished watering the pigs and mucking out the pens. She knew it was safer to keep herself tucked in between the pens than be out in the open where her scent might carry to any bloodhounds searching for her. Of course she smelled more like a pig than anything else right now.
As she moved into the woods, she thought back to when she was recovering from measles. What had Annie said about the Underground Railroad? She didn’t think it was a real train or even a road underground. That’s right. She said she figured it was the folks from Up North who were trying to help slaves get to freedom.
I need to get to freedom. But Minty didn’t know how to find the people who helped. She didn’t even know which way was Up North. Why didn’t I ask Ben more questions? Her father could tell exactly where a body was headed by looking at the stars. He ’d feel around on the trunks of the trees to see which side had moss growing on it. Did the north side grow moss? Or was it the west side? The east side?
How can I get to freedom when I don’t where it is? Minty knew that instead of worrying about whether she’d have courage when the time came, she should have prepared herself. Moses didn’t go to Pharaoh until he was ready to lead his people to freedom.
As each day passed, Minty got hungrier and hungrier. Most times the slops were too wet to fish out. She kept remembering the words of Annie, “Once a body be free, ain’t never goin’ come back to slavery, child. Ain’t never.” But what if you couldn’t make your way to freedom?
Courage. She always worried if she’d have enough courage to run. When she took off running out the door of Miss Susan’s, she didn’t even have time to decide. Her feet made the decision long before her head agreed.
Now she wondered if she had enough courage to go back.
This time she had plenty of time to think about it. She knew if she ever wanted to make a run for freedom, she needed to be prepared. “Lord Jesus,” she prayed, “give me courage to go back and face my enemy. And then give me the chance to prepare, like Moses did, to move toward freedom.”
Her legs were wobbly and her head was muzzy, but she retraced her steps back to the bridge. As she slid into the water, the cold shocked her. Good, that will keep me going for a time. When she had chosen to go upstream, she never thought that, weak and hungry several days later, she’d be glad to have the current downstream to help her make her way back.
“Miss Susan, Miss Susan!” Minty woke to the sound of Sadie’s voice. “Araminta done come back on her own.” Sadie emphasized on her own. “Willie found her laid out at the same place on the bank where Master found her shoes last week.”
“Ugh. She’s nothing but skin stretched over bone. Get some of that corn mush down the stupid girl’s throat, Sadie.” It was Miss Susan. “Bill, go tell Master to get the wagon hitched. Good thing he didn’t pay the patrollers any money to find this one.”
Minty could feel Sadie lift her shoulders and spoon the mush into her mouth. The half-starved girl wasn’t so far gone that she didn’t notice that it felt warm and tasted wonderful. Mmm. She was so tired and hungry that it hardly mattered what Miss Susan would do.
Next time Minty woke, Willie was putting her into the back of a wagon. Was she being sold South?
Miss Susan came out of the house with a bundle in her arms. “Take this quilt. I don’t want to have to dispose of it.” She pulled her shawl around her and climbed up beside Willie.
“Ghee-up.” Willie clucked to the horse to get them moving.
The clip-clop, clip-clop of the horses made it hard for Minty to think. She knew she should be alert, but…
Thump! Minty could hear the sound of her body hitting wood as Willie dropped her.
“I said, drop her and get back to the wagon, boy.” It was Miss Susan. In a different voice she asked, “Is Mr. Brodas at home?”
Mr. Brodas? Can it be? Rather than get whipped, burned, or sold South, I’m to come home? I must be dreamin’.
“Certainly, I’m at home.” It was Master. “Who wishes to see me without an invitation, Cicero?” Master came out onto the veranda, his hand over his eyes to shield them from the glare of the late-afternoon sun.
“It is I, Mr. Brodas.”
“Miss Susan, forgive me. I was not expecting you. Is your husband with you?” He looked over at Willie, now sitting in the wagon, before turning to Miss Susan again. “Do come in.”
Just then he saw Araminta, who had pulled herself up to a sitting position, still clutching her quilt. He now understood why Miss Susan had come.
“No,” she said, “I’m here to return this stubborn slave my husband hired from you. She wasn’t worth a sixpence to begin with, but after running off, she’s not worth the food to fill her back up.” Minty could see the temper tantrum that brewed beneath the surface. Instead of letting the anger loose, the young woman turned around and stomped off the veranda in a huff. “You decide what to do with her. I wash my hands.”
“Someone get Old Rit and tell her the girl is back again.” Brodas shrugged his shoulders and turned to go back into the house. “Good thing the woman didn’t ask me to return the hire fee.” He smiled. “Someone get her off my veranda before the missus catches a whiff.”
Keep
A - Inchin’ along
The years passed and, except for a few times he briefly hired her out, Master Brodas allowed Minty to remain. Annie said he told Cicero that he felt sorry Minty had been so badly used. The wounds inflicted by Miss Susan’s whip eventually all healed, but they left thickly raised scars crisscrossing the skin on her neck and shoulders.
No one ever tried to give Minty an indoor job again, which suited her just fine. Even her mother could see that Minty was happiest when working outdoors. Old Rit just thanked the Lord that her Araminta could grow up close at hand. When they issued her a long homespun skirt from the storehouse that fall, she knew she was leaving childhood behind.
One day, Old Rit called Minty over before she left for the field. “Honey-girl, I look at you and I jes’ see my mother, plain as day. Why, you are ’most a woman fully growed.”
Minty savored her mother’s words.
“This here’s a head cloth.” Old Rit took out a strip of freshly woven red cloth. “Women wrap this round ’n’ round they heads to keep the sun off. When it beats down hard ’n’ hot, you jes’ dip it in the wash bucket and tie it soppin’ wet onto your head. It he’ps keeps you cooler.”
Old Rit showed her how to wrap and tie it. “Mos’ly, we jes’ wear it ’cause it makes us beau’ful.” After having her look at the wrap in the scrap of mirror, her mother said, “I picked turkey red for you ’cause your skin is smooth and black as ebony. ‘Nothing will look half as pretty on my Harriet,’ I thought.”
Harriet? Minty couldn’t believe her ears. Was she finally to get her grown-up name?
Old Rit began to call Minty Harriet. At first nearly everyone still called her Minty, but as they got used to it, they slowly changed over. First with a “Mint—um…Harriet ’ and finally with a clear “Harriet.”
At thirteen years old, Harriet only stood five feet tall, but it was said that she was as strong as any man on the plantation. After working indoors at both the Cooks’ and Miss Susan’s, there was nothing she liked better than working in the field all day long. When the bell rang for dinner, she stretched achy muscles and lifted her face to the sky, opening her mouth to let the sunshine deep inside.
“Ha
rriet.” It was a workday like any other when the overseer singled her out. “Harriet Ross.”
Harriet looked up from the row of corn. “Yes, suh?”
“Master wants you to meet him down at the landing by the river.”
“Yes, suh.”
“And no dawdling on the way, or you’ll feel the end of my whip.” He snapped the leather tip against his boot. “You run, girl, y’hear?”
“Yes, suh.”
Not again! Harriet glanced at Rit to see if she’d overheard. Rit’s eyebrows drew together in worry, making deep furrows on her forehead. Harriet looked at her mother for a long minute, praying this didn’t mean another good-bye. As she hurried off to meet the master, she heard the sandpapery sound of her mother’s fidgety fingers.
“Here she is, gentlemen.” Master Brodas held out his arm toward Harriet.
What was this about? A group of men were standing around him. Was Master holding some sort of spur-of-the-moment slave auction? No. Harriet couldn’t see anyone who looked like a speculator or slave trader. She’d often seen one or another of these men riding by the fields on their way up the lane toward the Big House. She figured they were Master’s friends.
“Why, you old fox, Brodas, whatever are you up to?” asked one of the men. “She’s only a girl.” He paused, looking her up and down as if sizing up a feeder pig. “And a runty one at that.”
“Just put your money where your mouth is, Cole.” He turned to the group. “Time to place your bets, gentlemen.” Mr. Brodas took out a small leather-covered book and began to write. One by one the men came up and spoke to him, and he recorded what they told him.
Harriet couldn’t figure out what was going on.
“Harriet, I been telling these men how strong you are. Fact is, I told them you could load those hogsheads of tobacco onto that barge. After you do that, I want you to lift those barrels of molasses on board. Then, after you hoist those bales of cotton onto the deck, I’ve told them that you can tow the barge to that fallen tree.”
So that was it. Master had a bet with these men.
“Don’t let me down, girl,” Master whispered.
Harriet felt that familiar closing-in feeling. Not that she wasn’t strong enough. She knew she was strong. Ever since she returned from Miss Susan’s she decided to be ready in case she ever had opportunity to set out again. She wanted to be able to walk upstream for hours without growing weary. She might even need to be strong enough to hold off an angry sow or outrun a pack of bloodhounds.
Day after day, she worked in the fields, weeding, hoeing, or picking, until her muscles screamed. Rather than slow down or change pace, as the others did, she pushed on. She learned that by working past the soreness, she grew a little stronger every day.
Once, during the winter, a storm blew a huge tree limb across the road leading to the Quarter. The men just stood around looking and talking. Harriet welcomed a chance to test her newfound strength, but even more, she thought it great fun to show up the young men. Harriet squatted down, wrapped her arms around the limb, and, keeping her back straight, used the strength of her legs to lift the heavy branch. Those watching laughed and teased as the branch moved little by little. When she finished, she looked up to see the overseer watching as well. He had been called to bring a horse so that the men could tow it off the road. Harriet knew it never did any good to come under the overseer’s eye.
No, she wasn’t afraid she couldn’t win the bet for Master. She was strong and if it could be done, she’d do her best to do it. What she hated was being treated like a beast of burden—a workhorse to wager on. What was wrong with these men? Didn’t they see that she was a child of God like them? What should she do, obey her master or stand against the evil?
She stood still for a full minute before she leaned over to roll the first hogshead of tobacco down toward the barge. As it rolled down the last incline, she ran in front of it, squatted down toward the bale, and hoisted the bundle onto her shoulder. She used her strong legs to stand under the weight and managed to get it onto the barge. She rolled it to the far corner and repeated the process.
The whole time she was working, the men hooted and called, making jokes and trying to disturb her concentration. Minty tried to ignore them. As she lifted a barrel of molasses, she remembered hearing the story of the people who lined the road to mock Jesus as He carried His cross. Father, let me carry my burdens cheerfully. Make me fit for the journey ahead.
As she lifted the last bale of cotton aboard the barge, the men became quiet. Harriet thought about the journey ahead as she continued her prayer. Make me strong for the task You’ve set before me. She didn’t mean this silly wager. She wanted to be ready to seek freedom when the time came. Maybe God would use her like He used Moses.
She took the thick rope in her hands as she stood on the bank. She pulled but the barge didn’t move. Was it caught on something? Normally the barge would have had a pole man to hold it away from the bank, but she’d have to try to pull toward her and away from the bank all at once.
The barge rode low on the water. Maybe it was too heavy for her to pull. As she dug her legs into the grass and tensed her body to pull, a deep song welled up:
Keep a-inchin’ along, keep a-inchin’ along.
Massa Jesus is comin’ by ’n’ by.
As she paused at each break, she let out a rush of air, like a loud “huh,” and pulled with all her strength. Inch by inch the barge began to move down the river. When she finally reached the fallen tree, the muscles in her legs and shoulders cramped. She let go of the rope and sank to the ground, waiting for the cramps to ease.
The men had followed her, slapping Master on the back. “Congratulations, Brodas,” said one. “This is one bet I’m happy to pay.”
“I wouldn’t have missed this for the world,” said another. “You are something else, Old Man.”
One by one the men handed money over to Master and he checked them off his book. They all left together, talking and laughing, but since Master didn’t tell her to get right back to the field, she lay in the cool grass.
Why was it that she loved teasing the boys in the Quarter with her strength, but hated performing for the entertainment of these men? Refusing Master hadn’t seemed worth it. Was it because she lacked courage to refuse? I remember when Ruby ran. I worried that I didn’t have courage to seek freedom, but when the time came to run from Miss Susan’s, I never thought of courage. My feet just took me away.
She looked at the barge. Now I worry that I don’t have courage to stand against evil. She thought back to Miss Susan’s.
Running is sometimes easier than standing. Like today—it seemed easier to perform for the men than to stand up to them.
The hardest thing she ever did was return to Miss Susan’s. So what takes the most courage? To run? To stand? To return? She didn’t know. Lord Jesus, help me be strong for You. Help me to stand when I need to take a stand, to run when You call me to freedom, and to return when You call me back.
When Harriet returned to the Quarter, everyone was talking about the bet. Master sent word that he wished to see her later, along with her father. Harriet walked with Ben to the Big House after supper and waited until Master came out onto the veranda.
“Ben, this is some girl you have.”
“Yes, suh.”
“She’s as strong as any man on this plantation.”
“Yes, suh.”
Changing the subject, he asked, “How you doing on that stand of old growth timber?”
“It’s comin’ slow, suh, but we’s taking time to cut the timber clean and haul it carefully so’s not to damage saplings.”
“Good, good.” Master glanced over at Harriet, then back at Ben. “I called you here because I want to add to your crew.”
“Thank you, suh. We can use the help.”
“Go to the shed and pick out another ax. This girl of yours is about the best help I can give you.”
Harriet could hardly keep her face from breakin
g into a smile. It wouldn’t do to let the master see that she wanted something too badly, but how could she keep from showing her joy?
“That all right with you, girl?” Master looked straight at Harriet.
“Yes, suh.” She kept her head down, but deep inside she could hardly keep the joy from bubbling over.
On the way back to the Quarter, they stopped at the toolshed and Ben chose an ax for Harriet. The smooth hardwood handle felt good in her hand. She proudly carried it back to the cabin where Old Rit and Annie waited.
That day marked the beginning of a happy time in Harriet’s life. She still had to listen to screams of slaves being whipped for one thing or another, but she no longer worked in the fields. She worked side by side with her father. They woke before dawn and carried their dinner buckets with them as they walked the long timber road to the patch of old-growth wood. They usually marked their journey with song —her father’s rumbly bass blending with her own husky tenor. Everyone on the plantation recognized Harriet’s voice. The deep voice that followed her bout of measles never left. It gave her a sound like no other. Sometimes, back in the Quarter, people caught the faint murmuring of their singing as she and her father cleared brush long into the night. Harriet loved those nights with her father.
“Ben, how can I use the stars to find my way at night?”
“You need to use the North Star,” her father answered.
“How can I tell which one is the North Star?”
He pointed up to the sky. “See that clump of stars that looks like a drinkin’ gourd?”
Harriet squinted and finally located the group. “Yes.”
“They call ’em the Big Dipper. Now, look for the two bright stars on the far edge of the dipper. Iffen you follow the line with your finger, they point you right to the North Star. See how bright? It sits at the end of the Little Dipper.” Ben helped her find them. “Don’t it look like the Big Dipper pours into the Little Dipper?”