Slave Girl

by Patricia C. McKissack

  “You look mighty nice, Clotee,” Buddy Barnes said. My face turned hot and my head topped light – as light as my feet felt dancing with Buddy Barnes. As long as I live I will never, ever forget dancing with Buddy Barnes – even though Spicy and Hince were the cakewalk winners. They each took a slice of the cake for themselves, then they let everybody else have a bite.

  Of course Missy was a sore loser – but she only makes herself look bad – keep pushing, pushing. Everybody knows how Spicy and Hince feel about each other. Missy should just give up.

  Friday, December 30, 1859

  The Week of Sundays has gone so fast. Like most holidays it’s been filled with work – up the stairs, down the stairs. Bring me this, Clotee. Take that there, Clotee. Clotee. Clotee. I wish I could change my name. It is always late when we finish. Eva Mae was so tired this evening, she just fell fast asleep up in the attic. I eased out of the kitchen without waking her.

  Saturday, December 31, 1859 – New Year’s Eve

  In the Big House all the talk is about the race tomorrow. The Campbelles are here with their horse and rider. Their horse looks like a real champion – named Betty’s Son. The rider is the size of a boy, but he has a lot of years in his face. I heard one of the Campbelles call him Josh.

  Later

  The Campbelles brought along three of their slaves who stayed in the stables with Hince. They also made good dance partners for us. Missy took one look at the young man named Booker and claimed him for the rest of the evening. Aunt Tee called her a shameless hussy. I danced with the one named Obie. He was fun and had a happy laugh, but he wasn’t near as good a dancer as Buddy Barnes. The one named Shad seemed shy – didn’t dance, didn’t talk. He left before the party ended.

  After one of the dances the straw in the barn started me to sneeze. It always makes me sneeze and cough. Aunt Tee took me outside to get some fresh air – and sent me to the cabin to get some cough syrup. When I passed the stables, I saw Shad standing at Big Can’s stall.

  Sunday, January 1, 1860 – New Year’s Day

  My God. Hince lost the race!

  As best I can tell, this is what happened.

  This morning it was bright and sunny, but cold – not a cloud in the sky. The course was from Belmont’s front steps down to the road and back, past the Big House, down to the river and back again – about a half mile.

  Carriages full of people began gathering on the grounds all morning. Hundreds were here by mid-morning. A few minutes before noon, Hince walked Can up from the stables. I could tell something was wrong with the horse. Can looked spooked, jumpy, hard to handle. I caught a look of worry in Hince’s face. That spooked me.

  At exactly noon, the gun fired and Can reared up, losing time that he was never able to catch up. The other horse won! We all were too shocked to believe what our eyes had seen. Hince wasn’t supposed to lose.

  Right away, Hince commenced to hollering that Can had been drugged. He was right. And I knew who had done it. Shad! “I seen him at Big Can’s stall last night.” I went running to Mas’ Henley, all the time pointing a finger at Shad. He glared at me. “Please save Hince,” I begged. “Shad did something to Can, I know he did. I seen him, honest!”

  “I seen him, too,” said Aunt Tee. “Left the dance early last night.” Shad didn’t say anything. The Campbelles stayed calm.

  Everybody started talking to one another, whispering about what had happened during the race. The Campbelles called for several men – all good horsemen to check out Big Can. Rouse Mosby and Len Beans checked out Can. They said there were no signs of the horse being drugged. “Were they blind?” Can wasn’t acting hisself. Anybody could see that – who wanted to see it.

  The next few seconds were like hours. The Campbelles claimed that the race was fair and they had won the bet. The crowd agreed and sent up a cheer.

  “You’ve cheated me, Amos Campbelle – you have, but I can’t prove it,” Mas’ Henley said real angry-like. Then he ordered them off his property.

  The Campbelles tipped their hats and said they had other business in the area before going home. Say they’ll be coming in several weeks to pick up Hince.

  “Please do something, Miz Lilly,” I begged her. “I saw Shad in the barn doing something to Can. He did. Please help Hince. Please don’t let them take him away. Please.”

  Miz Lilly snatched me by the arm and pushed me toward the house. “Hush all that crying, before I give you something to cry for. You’ll say anything to save Hince.” Through my tears I could see her mean eyes, and I knew she wasn’t about to help Hince. She was happy to be rid of him. It’s hard trying not to hate Miz Lilly – but I do hate the cruelness that lives inside her.

  Later

  Hince been like a wild man – walking, walking, never stopping. Say he aine going with the Campbelles. Spicy been crying all day, limp with crying. “I hope Hince don’t try nothing foolish like running away,” say Aunt Tee. I hope not either. I got to do something, but what? What good is know-how if you can’t use it when you need it. I got reading and writing, but it can’t help Hince. I feel like my head is in the big mouth of the lion, but I’ve got to be like Daniel. Be not afraid.

  Thursday, January 5, 1860

  It finally happened! Mr Harms done been found out. Hince tattled. How did he know?

  Later

  We’re all here at Aunt Tee’s cabin. I’m trying to write down all that’s been going on, so we’ll never disremember.

  Spicy told Hince about me, Mr Harms, the one-eyed man, the abolitionists – everything. She asked me to forgive her. “I trusted Hince. I didn’t know he was gon’ tell on po’ Mr Harms.”

  I wouldn’t a-counted Hince ’mongst the tattlers either. It breaks my heart that he has.

  Would he tell on me if he got scared enough?

  Still later

  Hince came to Aunt Tee’s cabin after the last meal, when he knew all of us would be here. “I aine going to the Deep South with the Campbelles. Why should I care about a white man? It’s his life or mine.” Them words didn’t sound like Hince. He must be plenty scared. I would be – having to go to the Deep South.

  Aunt Tee never stopped stirring the pot. She spoke. “Going to freedom this way would be a bitter road. Mr Harms may be white but he come here to help the likes of us. Wrong for one of us to be the cause of his undoing.”

  “What am I s’posed to do?”

  “You’ve got to make this thing right, somehow.” Then with pleading in her voice, Aunt Tee went on saying, “Oh, son, if you gets to freedom, don’t let it be on a river of innocent blood – or you’ll sour yo’ heart and soul.”

  Hince dropped his head. “I aine going to the Deep South and that’s all there is to it. I’m purely sorry ’bout Mr Harms, but it’s him or me, and right now, I got to look out after me.” He looked at Spicy. She didn’t say nothing.

  I stood with Aunt Tee. “Mr Harms could have turned me in to win favour with Miz Lilly and Mas’ Henley. He never did. I owe him something. I’m gon’ try to help.”

  Now that I’ve studied on it a spell, I can’t shake a stick at Hince without it pointing back at me. I told on Shad when I thought it would save Hince. And I didn’t care. Now Hince done used what he knew to bargain with Mas’ Henley for his freedom. He aine about to go to the Deep South. I understand wanting to be free, but telling on Mr Harms aine the way to do it – it just aine right.

  Right now I feel like we’re the Israelites standing at the Red Sea. Pharaoh’s army is coming in chariots. Our backs are to the water. Mr Harms is tied up in the study waiting for the sheriff to come. What we need is for God to push back the waters so we can cross over on dry land. We need a plan.

  Friday, January 6, 1860

  We’ve got a plan that might save Mr Harms. It may or may not work, but we’ve got to try to save him. We can’t just let him die. God, please help us like you did the three boys in the fiery furnace.

  Saturday, January 7, 1860

  I’m still shaking from the
cold and fear. It snowed all night, so the sheriff didn’t get here until this afternoon. This is what happened.

  The sheriff and Waith came to the Big House. Spicy and me slipped in the side door and hid in the pantry where we could see and hear everything that was going on in the large parlour of the Big House. If Mr Harms was afraid, he didn’t show it. He looked as strange and out of order as he did the first day I laid eyes on him – not at all like the picture of a brave and daring abolitionist.

  Just like we’d planned it back at the cabin – Hince said that he had seen Mr Harms talking to the one-eyed man down by the river. “The same one-eyed man who’s been helping slaves get away.” Hince did a fine job.

  Mr Harms said none of it was true. “I don’t know a one-eyed man.” That was good. We ’spected he’d say that.

  Then it was time for Spicy to come in. She was so nervous, I had to push her two times. But she burst into the room, screaming, “Oh, please, Mas’ Henley, don’t hurt Mr Harms. He aine done nothing wrong. Hince be just lying ’cause he’s jealous – jealous of me … and Mr Harms. Tell ’em, Hince. Tell ’em.” Spicy was even better than when we practiced it in the cabin. I prayed Mr Harms would catch on to what we were doing. I had never gotten around to telling him what I’d told Waith about him and Spicy.

  “No, I’m the one telling the truth,” Hince say, right on time.

  The room fell quiet. Mas’ Henley’s mouth fell open. You could have pushed Miz Lilly over with a broom straw.

  “Here at Belmont? I’m so ashamed,” she say, heaving a big sigh. Mr Harms stood still and quiet.

  The sheriff shifted around from foot to foot. “We got two nigras with two different stories. How do we get at the truth. Have you and this gal been together?”

  Mr Harms wouldn’t answer. Waith leaned over to Mas’ Henley. “Well, I heard that Harms had picked that one out for hisself.” This part was going just as we had hoped. What happened next took me by surprise.

  “Spicy is telling the truth,” William shouted from the doorway. “I’ve seen her go into Mr Harms’s room many times. I also heard Spicy and Hince having a fight in the stables. Maybe Hince is jealous and isn’t telling the truth.”

  That was all we needed – two white men’s word – no matter if one was a boy. The sheriff untied Mr Harms, saying he would not take Mr Harms – not enough evidence.

  Now it was my time to heave a sigh. We’d done it! We’d saved Mr Harms. I felt just like we’d killed Goliath.

  Later

  When the sheriff was gone, Mas’ Henley slapped Spicy so hard she fell and slid across the room, bumping her head ’gainst the wall. I think Spicy is the bravest person in the whole wide world for doing what she did. She’s braver than Sojourner Truth and all the abolitionists rolled together. Spicy knew she was probably going to get punished in a bad way, but she was willing to go under the lash to save Mr Harms’s life. I saw Hince close his eyes and clench his fists. He was at that jumping over spot. I was praying that he wouldn’t jump over.

  See, I remember when Mr Barclay’s Kip crossed over. He went wild on his mas’er, took the whip away and beat his own mas’er with it. They hung Kip, but he died smiling. Sometimes, I guess people get tired of being hit on, beat on, mistreated. I reckon people get tired of seeing they loved ones smacked in the face – half fed – worked near ’bout to death. I saw Hince come mighty close to that jumping over spot, when Mas’ Henley hit Spicy that hard. But he held hisself, because the plan was working.

  Mr Harms didn’t make a move. He hardly looked like he was breathing. I don’t think I was breathing, either.

  “What kind of southern-born man are you?” Mas’ Henley asked, spitting out the angry words. “You come in my house and use one of my girls, and then turn around and rob me of my property? Steal my property away on some blasted Underground Railroad?”

  “I am a tutor, sir—”

  “No. No,” Mas’ say, cutting in. “I believe Hince told me the truth.”

  That’s what I was waiting to hear. Now I could breathe.

  “You know how I know? Hince doesn’t want to leave Belmont – his only home. You abolitionists don’t understand and you never will. Our slaves love us. They run away when you people come down here exciting them about freedom – freedom to do what? They are like children – unable to do for themselves.”

  Hince and Mr Harms wisely said nothing. They let Mas’ Henley rattle on, fooling himself into b’lieving we slaves was happy to be slaves.

  Then Miz Lilly stood up. “You helped my son. That’s why I stopped my husband from killing you. So, the best thing for you to do, sir, is get off Belmont and before I reconsider.” Then Miz Lilly swished away.

  So far our plan had worked – all of it.

  Late Saturday night

  William and I were the only ones standing on the porch – cold, but huddled together, watching Mr Harms load his buggy. All three of us knew that William had lied to save Mr Harms. He had not seen Spicy, because she had never been to Mr Harms’s room. He had not seen Hince and Spicy fussing because they had never had a fuss. William knows that I know he lied – but we will never speak of it, I’m sure.

  It’s natural-like for William to be sad. Mr Harms was above all else a very good teacher. Waith stood by a pile of books in the drive. He pointed the shotgun at Mr Harms’s head while the teacher climbed into the buggy. “Please, may I have my books. Why burn them?”

  Upon a signal from Mas’ Henley, Waith lit a match and the tutor’s books went up in flames. At the same time, Waith slapped the horse, and the buggy lurched forward, down the drive. It was a strange sight, not unlike the first day I’d seen Mr Harms, coming up the drive of Belmont. I was sorry to see him go, but happy he was alive to go.

  Sunday, January 8, 1860

  Aunt Tee made me tell her what happened at least ten times. Each time when we get to the part about Spicy being hit, she says, “Bless you, chile.” Spicy’s eye’s swollen, but Aunt Tee is taking care of her.

  “How do you get brave?” I asked Spicy.

  “I hope I was as brave as you are smart. It was your idea. All I did was do what you told me to do – even though I was scared to death the whole time.”

  Later

  Missy can’t stop talking about what a bad girl Spicy is. “Hince won’t want a girl like that.” If Missy only knew.

  Monday, January 9, 1860

  There is no cold like January cold. It goes through to the bone. No fire is hot enough to warm the January chills. That’s what the field hands spend their time doing in January – looking for something to eat and a warm place to eat it. Most of the little children in the Quarters don’t have shoes or warm clothes. Mothers come to Aunt Tee’s cabin to get salves and root potions. I been working hard in the kitchen and the Big House, slipping out food a-plenty.

  Tuesday, January 10, 1860

  Miz Lilly called me to her room today. Jumped right on me – talking about why I didn’t tell her about Spicy and Mr Harms.

  “I didn’t know.”

  She took my shoulders in each hand. Then she sighed. “Clotee, you could be my pet, my favourite, if you let me. You’re so bright and pretty just like your mama. Did you know, we were best friends? – always laughing and laughing, like silly girls do. Then we got all grown-up … She made the most lovely gowns for me and my sisters.”

  “Then you let her go.” God, help me to keep my mouth.

  Miz Lilly eyed me hard. “Go on now, get out of here,” she said. “You’re useless.”

  Wednesday, January 11, 1860

  True to his word, Mas’ Henley freed Hince today. I sneaked paper out of the study while dusting a while back. So, I’ve made a copy of the way a free paper is made up, and I got a copy of Mas’ Henley’s sign’ture. Hince can’t leave though, because Mas’ Henley say the papers have to be took to the courthouse.

  Sunday

  Now that Mr Harms is gone and we don’t have no more study time, I don’t know what the date is. But today i
s Sunday.

  Missy done made sure everybody in the Quarters thinks Spicy is a bad girl. Hince staying his distance for a spell. As long as Hince and Spicy know the truth, that’s all that matters.

  Aunt Tee’s pot is mighty low. Not enough to make a meal for us, never mind anybody else. Still she tries. Sharing what we got. “This plantation makes us all kin,” she say. “Not by blood, but by suffering.”

  January cold

  My fingers are cold. My feet are cold. My nose is cold. I cough all the time. My head hurts. This is the coldest winter of my life. I stay by the fire, but I’m never warm.

  In the room over the kitchen it was always warm and comfortable. I sleep in a fit and wake up tired. I will speak to Miz Lilly about getting some of the old blankets in the upstairs room of the Big House.

  Everybody gathered around Aunt Tee tonight. They seem to find hope in her spirit to keep going. Somebody sang –

  Rabbits in the briar patch,

  Squirrel in the tree,

  Wish I could go hunting

  But I ain’t free.

  Rooster’s in the henhouse

  Hen’s in the patch,

  Love to go shooting

  But I ain’t free.

  “We going to eat tomorrow,” say Aunt Tee. “Don’t you worry.”

  Next day

  Most times Miz Lilly is cold and mean. Today, she found a little kind piece hidden away in a pocket of her heart. I told her how bad it was in the Quarters. “It has been a bad winter.” She let us take quilts and shirts and shoes down to the Quarters. Boxes of stuff. It was like the Big Times all over again.

  While Miz Lilly was busy helping me in the attic, Aunt Tee slipped and rung the necks of two hens and had them in the pot with dumplings before anybody could say “how-do you do.” Aunt Tee was good on her word. We ate good tonight.