“I could not have fathered an imperfect child,” Mr. Derby declared. He seemed agitated. “I must see her—if nothing else, to say good-bye.”
Mrs. Derby spoke up frantically. “I instructed the servants to wrap her and bury her far away from our home.”
“Nonsense! Our daughter, regardless of any infirmity, must be buried with honor in our family plot,” he told her. “How dare you discard my child like that?” he scolded, anger and sorrow lacing his voice. Polly found herself feeling sorry for the man.
“I’m so sorry, Percival,” Mrs. Derby whispered again. “Please do not bring her into my presence again. Just thinking of her is more than I can bear.” Polly thought she looked more terrified than sorrowful.
He leaned over and kissed his wife on her forehead. “I share your grief, my dear,” he said to her. “You just rest for now, and I will take care of these unpleasant details.” As he was leaving the room, he said to Polly, “Bring me the body of my daughter. When the doctor gets here with Noah, he will want to examine her.” Polly curtsied, and he slammed the door behind him.
Mrs. Derby whispered to Polly, “Is my baby safe?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Polly replied. “For now. But when the doctor gets here, we have to show him something.”
“Perhaps the doctor can be delayed,” Mrs. Derby suggested. “Can you get word to Noah before they return?”
“I’m not sure, ma’am. Will you be all right for a while? I must check with Teenie and see what can be done.”
“Yes, of course. Please go and do what you must. You move beyond kindness to help us. I shall forever be grateful.” Polly hurried down the stairs and out to the kitchen, desperate to avert a tragedy. How has it come to this? she thought. She realized then how deeply her life was entangled with those of the slaves she had once so despised.
27. DEATH IN THE DUST
AMARI WAS WAITING FOR POLLY IN THE KITCHEN. “Is the baby safe?” Polly asked her.
Amari nodded, then asked, “What Massa say?”
Polly looked at her and said, “It’s very bad. Mr. Derby wants the doctor to see the body of the child.”
“What we do?” Amari asked, turning to ask Teenie for advice.
“We must stop the wagon with Noah and the doctor before it gets here,” Polly declared.
“Ain’t no ‘we’ about it,” Teenie replied as she shucked a basket of corn. “You a white gal. You the only one that be allowed on the road after dark.”
Polly took a deep breath. “All right, I’ll go. Tell me what to do.”
“Whatever it take to turn that wagon round!” Teenie said without conviction. “Ain’t gonna be easy.”
Dusk had fallen. Polly left the kitchen and headed down to the main road, the road that had brought her to this place with Amari. So much has changed since then, she thought. She half walked, half jogged about a mile, the darkness so thick that it seemed to smother her, when she heard the wagon approaching. As it got close to her, she ran toward it, startling the horses.
“Please, sir,” Polly began. “Are you Dr. Hoskins?” She did not look at Noah, although she had a feeling he knew what was going on.
“Yes, I am. Is Mrs. Derby all right?”
“Oh, yes, sir. She’s just fine—and the baby, too—crying and nursing and being sweet like newborns always are, sir.” Polly knew she was babbling, but she couldn’t find the words to make him turn around. “That’s why I came out to meet you, sir—to tell you that the baby has been born with no complications, Mrs. Derby is fit and fine, and your services are no longer needed. Mr. Derby wanted to save you an unnecessary house call.” She spoke very quickly, glad that it was dark and that they couldn’t see how scared she was.
Noah seemed to understand immediately that it was not a good idea for the doctor to make it to the plantation, for he spoke up to say, “I’ll be glad to drives you back to Charles Town, suh. No trouble at all, suh.”
“Nonsense!” the doctor replied gruffly. “No, you will not drive me back—it took us four hours to get here! I shall see to my patient and her infant, I shall eat a fine meal prepared by Derby’s servants, and I shall spend the night here and return refreshed to Charles Town in the morning. We shall proceed to Derbyshire Farms!”
“But, sir—,” Polly tried weakly.
“Who are you, my dear, and why are you out here on the road after dark?” He offered Polly his hand and helped her up onto the wagon. “It is not safe, you know—highwaymen will slice your throat in a heartbeat.”
Defeated, Polly replied, “My name is Polly Pritchard. I work for Mr. Derby.”
“Did he send you out here to send me back?” Dr. Hoskins asked.
Polly wasn’t sure whether to lie or tell the truth. So she said nothing in reply. The wagon moved slowly toward the house. Polly prayed, silently fingering the tie strings on her bonnet.
Mr. Derby waited near the big circular pillars at the front of the house. He looked grief-stricken. “Thank you for making this long drive, Hoskins,” he said to the doctor as he stiffly stepped down from the wagon, “but I’m afraid your trip was in vain. Isabelle is fine, but the baby was stillborn.” He choked on the words.
Dr. Hoskins looked confused. “Stillborn? This young woman here told me the baby was fine and healthy. What’s going on?”
Polly tried to jump down from the wagon, but Mr. Derby grabbed her arm, the anguish on his face turning to anger. “What is going on here? I told you I would never allow any insubordination in my household. You explain what is going on this instant!”
Polly’s heart pounded. She opened her mouth to speak just as she heard Lena’s voice behind her, yelling from an upstairs window. “Oh, Massa, come quick! Miz Isabelle done fainted!”
Mr. Derby released Polly and ran with the doctor into the house. Polly collapsed on the ground with relief. This night is not going to end well, she thought fearfully.
Amari ran out of the kitchen as soon as the two men had disappeared. She looked directly at Noah, who was staring toward Mrs. Derby’s window with concern. “Baby is black,” Amari told him bluntly. “Pretty girl child.”
Noah groaned and covered his head with his hands. “Is Isabelle all right? The baby is alive?” Polly was surprised by the seeming depth of his anguish.
Teenie had come out of the kitchen to join them. She wiped her hands on her apron. “Yeah, they both alive for now. But it won’t take long for Massa to figger out what really happened. We’s all in big trouble, tryin’ to cover up yo’ mess.” Tidbit ran from the kitchen and toward his mother. She yelled at the child fiercely, “You go git in the kindlin’ box and hide there, you hear? Don’t you come out till I come git you!” The boy took a long look at her face and hightailed it back to the kitchen.
Noah sat on the ground in the dirt. It seemed to Polly he was overwhelmed by the evening’s events. “We growed up as children together,” he explained. “She was the mistress, of course, and I be the slave, but that didn’t make us no matter at all. We’d go fishin’ and runnin’ through the woods—just likin’ each other, you know?”
Teenie grunted and kept glancing at the window to the upstairs room where Lena and Miss Isabelle were trying to stall the doctor and Mr. Derby.
“What was you thinkin’?” Teenie asked finally, annoyance and amazement in her voice. “Just ’cause a chicken got wings don’t mean it oughta fly. Y’all shoulda known better!”
“As she got older,” Noah continued, ignoring Teenie, “she turned down every good-lookin’ boy who come to court her. Her daddy finally put a stop to that young-girl foolishness and married her off to Massa Derby. She cried for days before the weddin’.” Noah stopped. His shoulders drooped.
“When Massa Derby move her here, she insist I come with her. Her daddy didn’t see no harm, so she and me was real happy. When she found out she was with child, we figgered the baby belonged to Massa Derby. At least that what we was hopin’.”
Mistress and slave—falling in love! Polly realized with a start.
I didn’t think such a thing was even possible. “Has something like this ever happened before?” Polly asked.
Noah shook his head. “I don’t know, missy. No one’s done lived to tell ’bout it.”
“You got to run away, Noah,” Teenie told him clearly. “Massa gonna kill you for shure.”
“I ain’t runnin. I love her,” he replied simply.
Teenie snorted. “Love don’t mean pig spit round here.” She had no more time to argue with him, for at that moment Mr. Derby emerged from the front door of the house, angrily holding up a weak and sobbing Mrs. Derby. In his right hand he held a gun. The doctor, noticeably, had remained inside.
Polly, Teenie, and Amari drew back at the fury on Mr. Derby’s face. Noah stood slowly and with dignity. He looked at Isabelle Derby with a look of absolute love on his face. She seemed to relax as she gazed at Noah. She smiled at him, then reached out to him with her free hand. Her husband slapped her arm down. “Isabelle!” he barked, his voice tight with fury.
Coming from the opposite direction, from the slave quarters, the sharp wailing cry of a newborn could be heard. As they all turned in that direction, they could see Clay Derby strolling toward them, carrying the baby girl. The infant had been stripped of her blanket, and she protested loudly in the chill night air.
Polly was having difficulty finding each new breath. She had to force herself not to reach out and grab the baby from Clay.
“Looking for something, Father?” he asked with a grin. “I found this baby down at Sara Jane’s place. She swears it’s her baby, but it looks to be newborn, and her little picaninny must be about three months old. Seems a bit impossible, don’t you think?” Polly could tell that Clay was actually enjoying this!
She and Amari watched, horrified, as Clay lay the naked, screaming baby on the dirt in front of his father. Polly grabbed Amari’s hand and squeezed it. She wanted to run to the child and pick her up, but she dared not move.
A look of revulsion crossed Mr. Derby’s face as he stared at the perfect brown features of the infant. Isabelle Derby cried out, “My baby!” and reached for the child on the ground in front of her, but her husband held her firmly. Noah, impassive once more, showed no outward emotion, but tears slipped down his face.
Mr. Derby, his voice full of self-control, spoke calmly and clearly to his wife. “I loved you,” he said, almost plaintively. “You were so young and beautiful—like springtime all year long. I just knew you would erase all the sorrows from my past.”
Mrs. Derby shuddered, her head hung low.
“But you chose to betray me,” her husband said, venom returning to his voice. “You are not even worthy of my vomit.” He inhaled. “But I shall not kill you,” he continued in a low, eerily controlled voice. She looked at him in surprise. “Instead, I shall refuse to let you die.”
Polly was confused. She did not understand what he meant, but soon it became terribly apparent.
Mr. Derby pulled his wife over to where Noah stood. Then, with one hand, he cocked the musket and aimed it at Noah’s broad chest. He spat at Noah, then glanced at his wife. He made sure she was watching. Then he fired.
Noah’s blood splattered them all as he fell to the ground not far from his child. Polly screamed, Amari cried out, and Teenie fell to her knees mumbling, “Oh, sweet Jesus!”
The noise of the gunshot startled the baby, who cried even louder from where she lay on the ground. Mrs. Derby, shrieking and twisting like a madwoman, fought to get free of her husband’s grip. Mr. Derby suddenly released her in a heap on the ground as he calmly but swiftly reloaded the gun.
Sobbing hysterically, Isabelle Derby scrambled in the dirt toward her baby. She had almost reached the infant when another gunshot exploded in the darkness. The baby was suddenly silent.
28. PUNISHMENT
NOT SINCE THE DAY HER MOTHER DIED HAD POLLY felt such agony. She gasped in disbelief, unable to catch her breath. Head spinning, she clung to Amari, who was choking on her sobs. Mrs. Derby threw herself onto her child, then fainted, this time for real.
Mr. Derby dropped the gun, then looked at his hands. He seemed stunned. He turned to Clay and said quietly, “Go tell old Jubal to get up here and take care of . . . of all this.” He would not look at the bodies. “And make sure Sara Jane gets punished,” he added without emotion. Polly watched Clay disappear into the darkness with a look of satisfaction on his face.
Dr. Hoskins peered out of the door then, unsure of what he might encounter. “Come get my wife, Doctor,” Mr. Derby called. “I believe she’s fainted again. Unfortunately, she had to witness the disciplining of some unruly slaves, and it proved a bit much for her. See to her, will you, old fellow?” Mr. Derby took a deep breath and smoothed his doublet.
The doctor crept slowly to the bloody scene, observed it all, but made no comment. He picked up Mrs. Derby in his arms and carried her back to the house. Lena waited at the door to assist him, her eyes bright with fear.
Then Mr. Derby turned his attention to Teenie, Polly, and Amari, who huddled together. “Follow me,” he told them curtly.
He led them down the familiar path to Teenie’s kitchen, where he stopped. “Where is the boy Tidbit?” he asked Teenie.
She hesitated. “I don’t rightly know, suh. He done heard all the noise, and I guess it scared him. Maybe he run off to the woods.”
“Call to him. You better hope he answers.”
Polly could see that Teenie was not sure what to do. “Tidbit,” Teenie whispered softly.
“Call him so he hears you!” Mr. Derby demanded.
“Tidbit, honey, you in there?” Teenie called, her voice quavering.
A faint rustling could be heard coming from the kindling box. Mr. Derby marched over, tossed aside the small pieces of firewood, and pulled the boy out of the box by one arm. The dog growled softly. “Mama?” Tidbit called out.
When Mr. Derby dropped the boy to the ground, Tidbit ran quickly to the skirts of his mother. She picked him up and held him close to her body.
Mr. Derby spoke then. Polly sensed he was just barely in control of himself. “Follow me,” he demanded once more, and he led them a few paces from the kitchen to the smokehouse. He pulled out a key, unlocked the door, and turned to look at the frightened group in front of him.
“You,” he said, pointing at Polly, “are a liar! I will not have such a person in my household!”
Polly cowered before him, her hands held up in front of her face. “Have mercy, sir,” she whispered. He ignored her.
“And you,” he said to Amari with consternation, “have been trouble since I was kind enough to bring you here.” Amari looked frightened, Polly thought, but furious at him as well. That gave Polly courage to stand a little straighter in spite of Mr. Derby’s fury.
“And finally you,” he said fiercely to Teenie, “I trusted to obey me. Your responsibility was to me and you failed.”
“I so sorry, suh,” Teenie mumbled.
“Too late,” he said harshly. He thought for a moment. “When Dr. Hoskins leaves in the morning, he will have three passengers. I’ll send Clay with him to make sure there are no more problems. If it were not for my son, I might never have discovered the whole truth.”
Polly searched for the words that might calm him down or change his mind. “Sir,” she began.
But Mr. Derby ignored her as he firmly pushed each of them into the dark, windowless smokehouse.
Polly, Amari, and Teenie looked at one another but did not fight him or object—they did not want to do anything to further incur his anger. Mr. Derby slowly closed the door, then opened it again.
“Tomorrow is a market day in Charles Town,” he said. “Polly, I plan to sell your indenture to a whorehouse in New Orleans. You’ll bring a pretty penny. They like them young down there.” He uttered a short, harsh laugh.
Tears welled up in Polly’s eyes, but she shook her head and refused to cry. Anger began to replace her misery as she looked at Mr. Derby with steely-eyed fury.
Amari looked devastated, but she, too, seemed to have run out of tears. She faced Mr. Derby with quiet resolve. The two girls stood there, stony and silent.
“You’ll leave at first light.” They heard the lock fasten firmly in the latch and his footsteps as he headed back to the house.
“What ’bout me, suh?” Teenie called out through one of the wooden slats of the smokehouse. “Who gonna cook yo’ food if you sells me?”
The sound of his boots stopped. “Oh, Teenie, “he called back, “I’d never sell you. You’re much too valuable.”
Teenie breathed a small sigh of relief. She clung to Tidbit fiercely in the darkness. “Oh, thank you, suh,” she whispered.
“I’m selling Tidbit instead,” Mr. Derby’s voice said clearly. The sound of his boots on the hard dirt disappeared as he headed back to the big house.
Teenie’s wails echoed in the darkness.
29. LOCKED IN THE SMOKEHOUSE
“OH, LAWD, WHAT WE GONNA DO?” TEENIE MOANED miserably. She sat on the dirt floor, holding Tidbit close to her. “He be my onliest chile. My baby boy,” she whispered into his hair. “My baby boy.”
Polly could hear Tidbit whimpering, “Whassa matter, Mama?” She knew he couldn’t possibly comprehend the enormity of what was about to happen to him.
“Is there any way out of here?” Polly looked around, but the smokehouse was so dark that she could distinguish only the shadowy figures of a couple of hams hanging from hooks.
“No, chile. The smokehouse was built secure so can’t nobody come in here and get free meat. And ain’t but two keys—Massa got one and Miz Isabelle got the other.” Teenie continued to rock Tidbit on her lap.
Amari, who sat on the floor near the door, suddenly asked, “Slaves ever run off?”
“Shure, they runs off—any chance they get,” Teenie replied. “But mostly they gets brought back. They got dogs that can smell a person in the woods and folks whose job it is just to catch runaways and bring ’em back.”
Copper Sun Page 14