Freedom Stone

by Jeffrey Kluger

  “Mama, what is it?” Lillie asked.

  “Children, outside!” was all Mama said. She pulled Lillie’s covers down, tugged her out of bed and pushed both children to the door and out into the morning.

  Everywhere, from all the cabins, the slaves were staggering barefoot into the early light and chill. Most of them, like Lillie’s family, were wearing their nightclothes. Bull and Louis were pacing in front of them all, snapping their whip tips impatiently in the soil, stirring up tiny tornadoes of dust. Mr. Willis was standing two steps behind them, his arms folded and his own whip still coiled—for now.

  “Line up, line up, line up!” Bull roared.

  “Line up!” Louis repeated in his higher, reedier voice.

  Lillie scanned fearfully up and down the quickly forming line. She saw Minervy emerge with her parents and two older brothers. The brothers looked afraid, but Minervy looked flat terrified, holding her mother’s arm even more tightly than Plato was holding Mama’s. She saw the plow-man Evers and the hauler Nate emerge from their cabins with their families. Despite the men’s size and muscles, they lined up as obediently as everyone else. Looking the other way, Lillie saw Nelly and George standing nervously in line, but she could not see Cal. She craned her neck out and then did spot him, standing between the two adults and leaning heavily on George’s arm. Cal appeared to be favoring his right foot . . . actually he appeared not to be using it at all; he was standing entirely on his left and keeping his right knee bent. He hopped to keep his balance.

  “I thought you got all your dancin’ outta you last night!” Bull shouted at him.

  “Hurt myself, sir,” Cal answered.

  “You’d best get well fast, then,” Bull responded. “You slaves stand on your own feet, or I’ll knock you off’n ’em.”

  George released Cal’s arm, and Cal stood hopping as best he could. Lillie stared at him and tried to catch his eye, hoping for some signal that he was all right, but Cal was fighting so hard to remain upright he didn’t notice her at all. When the slaves were all lined up, Willis stepped forward.

  “Appears to me that some o’ you don’t want to live here no more,” he began in an almost casual tone, pacing from left to right and back again. “I can’t reckon why. You’re fed well, ain’t you?” Some of the slaves desultorily nodded, but most just looked at the ground. “You got good houses, don’t you?” Again a few nods. “And them what don’t like all that, well, the slave trader’s comin’ back soon enough, and you just might get lucky and get sold off.”

  At those words, Mama took a tighter hold of Plato. Lillie did the same.

  “But that don’t seem to make no difference to some o’ you,” Mr. Willis continued. Suddenly, the reasonable tone of his voice switched to something angry, ugly, cutting. “Some o’ you decides to run off instead!”

  Lillie felt a hot surge of terror run through her. He knew about last night! He knew about Orchard Hill! He knew about where she’d been and what she’d done! Miss Sarabeth had told her daddy!

  “Some o’ you take it into your heads to go where you want to,” Willis went on, “to go when you want to. Like you was free! Like you was white!” He spat out the word white as if to say that there was nothing lower, more laughable than a slave thinking such a thing. His voice now rose to a furious pitch, and the pale, hairless top of his head flamed a bright red. “You are slaves!” he screamed. “You are property! No better than the Master’s plow! No better than the Master’s horse! You ain’t even as good as the horse! The horse obeys the man what feeds it, and it don’t run off!”

  Now Mr. Willis uncoiled his whip and snapped it on the ground with an explosive noise that sounded like nothing short of a pistol shot. No whip crack from Bull had ever been so loud. Lillie braced for the next swing of the lash, which she was sure would be across her hide.

  “The boy Benjy and the boy Cupit has run off,” Willis announced. “I sent Louis and Bull around to do a bed check before light. ‘Don’t trust slaves what’ve been to a party,’ I told ’em. ‘They gets big heads about ’em.’ And it turns out I was right! I already been to the Big House and told the Master, and he give me free hand to do what I gotta do to find out where them boys has gone!” Willis barked.

  He stopped in front of Cupit’s sickly mama. She always looked frail, and now she looked terrified too—a weak, worked-out scrap of a woman. She sobbed softly into her hands.

  “The mama says she don’t know, and I reckon she’s speakin’ true,” Willis barked. “Just like a boy like Cupit to go off without tellin’ his own mama.” He wheeled toward the rest of the slaves and cracked his whip. “Any o’ you others know where them boys is at?”

  The slaves said nothing, none of them meeting the overseer’s eyes. Lillie wanted to look at Cal, fearing that he knew something and just as afraid that he’d lose control of his tongue and say something he oughtn’t. But she dared not even glance his way, lest she call attention to both of them.

  Lillie had never seen Mr. Willis so angry—angrier than even a runaway slave ought to make him, and she reckoned she knew why. If Benjy and Cupit ran off from the slave party, the overseer and slave drivers should have known, because they should have done a count before the wagons returned to Greenfog. If they didn’t, that had to mean they were drinking at the party and forgot. The Master would surely have figured that out when Mr. Willis told him the boys were missing and would now be as furious with his overseer as the overseer was with the slaves.

  “It’ll go hard on any of you what helped them boys go,” Willis said, “but it’ll go harder on those what helped and don’t confess. Now, who wants to be first?”

  The overseer began pacing the line, and Bull and Louis fell in behind him. They approached the hot-tempered Nate. The anger Nate had shown in his fight with Evers over the stolen peach jewel was nothing next to what he could show if he was taunted with a whip. He’d lost control of himself in such situations before and been savagely lashed for it. Lillie could feel the slaves along the line bracing for the same violence again.

  “You know what happened to them boys?” Willis asked.

  Nate kept his eyes down and muttered, “No, sir.”

  “I can’t see your face, boy!” Willis shouted.

  Nate did not move his head, but cast his eyes up to meet Willis’s. “No, sir, I don’t know nothin’, sir.”

  “I still can’t see you proper, boy!” Willis jabbed his whip handle under Nate’s chin and lifted his head. Nate’s jaw tightened and Lillie could see his fist clench by his side. “Lemme see them eyes,” Willis said. “Are they lyin’ eyes or truth-tellin’ eyes?”

  “Truth-tellin’ eyes, sir,” Nate said through his teeth.

  Willis stared at the man for a long moment—a moment in which the slaves could see that Nate was coming close to losing hold of himself and that Willis was daring him to do just that. No one breathed for several seconds, and then the overseer lowered the whip handle slightly, releasing Nate’s chin. Nate snapped his head away.

  “I reckon even a man like you can be trusted sometimes,” Willis said. He wheeled to Evers. “What about you? You know anything?”

  “No, sir,” Evers said. “I surely don’t.”

  Willis glared at Evers, then turned to walk the other way. As he did, Cal, who’d continued to fight for his balance, lost it again and fell against George. His bad foot struck the ground, and he cried out in pain. Willis flicked his eyes toward him.

  “What’s that noise down there?”

  “N-nothing,” Cal stammered, hanging on to George.

  “It’s nothing, sir,” George said. “Boy just hurt his foot.”

  Willis narrowed his eyes. “And what about that ’zactly?” he asked, approaching. “How’s a boy as strong as this one hurt a foot as bad as he done?”

  “Dancin’, sir,” Cal answered.

  “Dancin’, eh?” Mr. Willis asked. He was now standing directly in front of Cal. “Never seen a boy do himself so much damage from dancin’. Runnin�
�, sure. Jumpin’ over logs or gulleys in the woods at night, sure. Helpin’ two other boys escape, maybe. You do any of that last night, boy?”

  “No, sir,” Cal said emphatically. “I wouldn’t never do such a thing.”

  “That’s what you say,” Willis answered. “That foot o’ yours says somethin’ else. Better let me have a look at it.” With that Willis turned to George. “Set the boy down on the ground,” he ordered.

  George said nothing, and Nelly stepped in front of Cal. “The boy’s hurt, sir. He’s talkin’ truth; I seen him dancin’ last night with my own eyes. Twisted up his foot somethin’ terrible.”

  Willis let loose a small, sharp laugh. “Spoke like a real mama,” he said. “Almost like you was one.” Nelly looked as if she’d been slapped. “Now, set the boy down ’fore I shove him down!” Willis commanded.

  Nelly and George took Cal by the elbows and lowered him gently to the ground, where he sat, staring up fearfully at Mr. Willis. He rubbed his injured foot in his hand, protecting it more than massaging it.

  “Gimme that ankle, boy,” Willis said.

  Cal lifted his right leg and laid the foot in the overseer’s palm. Willis turned it slightly this way and that, as Cal stared at him wide-eyed. Lillie looked on from far down the line, craning her neck out as far as she could. Bull noticed and flashed her a menacing look, and Mama pulled her back.

  “Nasty,” Willis said, regarding the foot as if he were a doctor, but one who enjoyed the pain of his patients. “Swolled up big as a melon. Does it hurt when I do this?” He pressed his thumb hard into the swelling; Cal cried out. “Yep, seems it does hurt,” Willis said. “I reckon it ain’t no better here.” He pressed onto another spot, harder than before and much longer.

  “Yes!” Cal cried. “Yes, yes, it hurts! It hurts!”

  “And here?” Willis said, gripping the entirety of the ankle in one strong hand and squeezing until the veins and muscles stood out on his forearm.

  “Yes, yes, yes!” Cal screamed. “Please stop!”

  Lillie closed her eyes tightly and tried to cover her ears. Mama pulled her hands away lest she call the slave driver’s attention again.

  “You’re gonna kill him sure,” George pleaded. “The boy didn’t do nothin’. He told you that.”

  “Boys lie!” Willis barked, giving Cal’s ankle a hard twist and making him cry out again. “They lie and they lie and they lie!” He followed each repetition with another twist. “And this one lies most of all!”

  “I ain’t lyin’, sir,” Cal gasped, barely able to speak. “I wasn’t runnin’. I was dancin’.” His voice choked and his head drooped, as if he would faint clean away.

  “That’s what you say!” Willis answered. “And if it’s the truth, that’s what you’ll keep sayin’, even if I have to twist this foot clean off! Now for the last time, boy, where was you and where is them other two?”

  Willis gave Cal’s foot one more hard twist, and this time the scream that escaped the boy was so sharp and loud it cut into every slave standing along the line. Even Louis and Bull seemed surprised by the sound, and Lillie thought she saw a barely perceptible softening of their faces, a momentary flicker that for all the world appeared to be something like pity. Then it was gone as quick as a flint spark. Willis twisted the foot again, and again the scream poured from Cal. At last, Lillie could take no more.

  “It’s the truth, it’s the truth, it’s the truth!” she said, leaping from the line. “He was dancin’! He was dancin’ with me! My mama said no dancin’, but we did it anyhow! We danced and danced and he tripped on a rut and turned his ankle, and I fell on top of it and it near broke. Please, Mr. Willis, don’t hurt him no more!” Lillie cried those words with a voice that came from deep in her belly, one she’d never used before because until this moment she never knew she had it.

  Mama stared at Lillie in shock. Willis wheeled toward them with fire in his eyes and began striding in Lillie’s direction. He gripped his whip tightly and twitched it menacingly. Bull and Louis followed, grinning. Mama stepped in front of Lillie, and Willis waved her out of the way, but Mama didn’t move. Willis glanced toward Louis and Bull, who converged on Mama and pulled her away, pinning her arms behind her back. Mama screamed and Bull covered her mouth. Plato screamed, and Louis grabbed him with his free arm and covered his mouth too. Willis fixed his gaze on Lillie, his eyes glinting coldly. He moved closer and closer, raising his whip higher and higher, and cocking his arm to strike. Lillie closed her eyes, drew her breath and braced herself for a pain that had taunted her in her dreams for as long as she could remember but which she’d never before actually felt. Now she would feel it true and she reckoned it just might kill her.

  “See here, Mr. Willis!” a voice suddenly called out. “What is all of this?”

  The slaves, the slave drivers and the overseer turned. Lillie opened her eyes and did the same. They all saw the Master racing toward them. His hair was unbrushed and his shirt was untucked, and he looked like he’d not been ready to leave the house at all, but instead had just been preparing to eat his breakfast. He ran stiffly on short, stout legs and he looked cross.

  “I told you to talk to the slaves and whip only if you had to!” he said.

  “I do have to, sir,” Willis said, lowering his arm. “They din’t give me no other way to question ’em.”

  “It doesn’t sound like you even tried to question them, it sounds like you’re skinning them! I heard the screaming all the way from the house!” He waved his arm toward Cal. “What’s this one doing on the ground? Did you do that to his foot?”

  “No, sir,” the overseer answered.

  “I pay high coin for these slaves, Mr. Willis. Just like I pay high coin for my horses. The boy’s just coming to working age, and this one”—he waved his hand to Lillie—“is just coming to baby age. You break ’em down or make ’em lame, and you’re taking money out of my pocket.”

  “Yes, sir,” Willis answered.

  “If you’d done a count last night like you were supposed to, we’d all be having a quiet morning. This business is your fault from the start!”

  “Yes, sir,” Willis said, using a humble tone no slave had ever heard from him before.

  “Maybe the reason you haven’t gotten any answers from these slaves is because they don’t have any answers. Meantime, the ones who did get away are just getting farther. Now, you take your drivers and see if you can’t go find them.”

  “Yes, sir,” Willis said. He tightened his jaw but did what he was told, coiling his whip back up and stalking off. Bull and Louis followed.

  “And you slaves get back to what you were doing!” the Master commanded. “You’ve got Sunday chores to do!”

  The Master walked off, hiking up his pants and tucking in his shirt. Mama grabbed Lillie hard by the arm and fixed her a look that told her there would be a reckoning once they got back to the cabin. She pulled her along, and Plato followed. Lillie allowed herself to turn back once, looking toward Cal as Nelly and George helped him up. He looked back at her and nodded his thanks. Both children had just told terrible lies, and if there was pain to come from that, both of them would suffer it.

  Chapter Twenty

  LILLIE GOT A BEATING from Mama as soon as the family returned to the cabin after the slave lineup. It had been a long time since Mama had touched either child in anger, and Lillie had come to think that at thirteen, she might finally have grown too big for such punishment. Mama had other ideas.

  A beating from Mama never amounted to much more than a few hard swats on the bottom, but Mama had field muscles, and even a single swat from her was a single swat too many. Any more than that, and it wouldn’t pay for a child to sit on anything harder than loose hay or soft grass for the rest of the day.

  “What was you thinking ’bout, girl?” Mama shouted at Lillie, pulling both children inside the cabin and slamming the door behind them. As Plato watched, she took Lillie by the arm, spun her around and began angrily delivering her paddling,
scolding her all the while. “Did you want the overseer to whip you?” she said. “Do you want to be sold off? Do you want to get your brother sold?” Each time Mama landed a blow, it landed on a very particular word, and to Lillie it seemed like just the word Mama wanted her to hear most. Finally, Mama spun her back around and took her by the shoulders. “Was you really dancin’ with that boy?” she asked.

  That was the question Lillie least wanted to answer, since a yes meant she’d disobeyed Mama and a no meant she’d lied to the overseer. But she knew better than to cross Mama further—and she knew better than to lie anymore. “No, Mama,” she mumbled. “Didn’t do no dancin’.”

  “Then you was helpin’ that boy run!” Mama said, lowering her voice to a furious whisper so that no one outside could hear her.

  “No!” Lillie answered. “I didn’t do that neither, and that’s the truth! I just fibbed this mornin’ so’s Mr. Willis wouldn’t hurt him no more.”

  “Fibbin’ today is the same as helpin’ him yesterday! To the overseer that makes you bad as a runaway yourself!”

  Mama went on like this for a while, directing most of her wrath at Lillie, but now and then turning to Plato to remind him not to follow the example of his fool sister. Lillie stayed silent—even when Mama ran out of words and decided she needed a few more swats—and that was the smartest thing to do. She had told the truth as far as she could tell it. The entire truth, about her trip to Orchard Hill and the charm that got her there, was something no one could know.

  It wasn’t until later in the afternoon that Mama let Plato or Lillie venture out of her sight. She first made both of them clean the cabin from floorboards to beams, as well as shake out the sleeping blankets, scoop the ashes from the hearth, and weed the little vegetable garden out back. Mama would have had the children do chores on any Sunday, but today she was not inclined to give them an easy time of it—and Lillie was not inclined to argue with her.

  When they were at last done and Mama let them go outside, Plato ran off to the tobacco fields, where he knew there would be birds to chase and other children to join him. Lillie ran off to Nelly and George’s cabin, where she knew there would be a lying boy with a bad ankle who needed a talking-to.