Undeterred, Clay put his hand on Amari’s other leg. A dusty blond shadow erupted from the woods at that moment, both hands shakily holding the musket. Polly closed her eyes and squeezed the trigger. The sound was deafening. Amari screamed. Clay sank to the ground with a moan.
“He be dead?” Amari asked fearfully as they crept close to him.
Polly, her face showing both terror and surprise, dropped the gun, then fell to her knees and turned Clay over. “No, he is not dead,” she declared with relief. “It’s a good thing I am such a poor shot. I didn’t want to hurt him, just frighten him away!”
Clay’s eyes fluttered and he groaned softly.
“The bullet barely grazed the side of his head. He will be fully conscious soon. We must hurry.” She tore at the knots that held Amari.
Amari looked at Polly with gratitude, amazement, and new respect. “I not know you so wild!”
Polly grinned. “I didn’t know it either. I just knew I had to do something quick and sudden.” Then she got down to business. “It is his turn to be tied,” she suggested.
“He get loose soon, yes?” Amari asked.
“Probably,” Polly replied. “We don’t have much rope. I suppose he will be able to undo the knots eventually. But at least we will have some time to get away.”
“He should die,” Amari declared, no regret in her voice.
“Maybe so, but it is not for us to do,” Polly replied.
They pulled Clay over to the tree and bound him as tightly as they could. “We must get out of here quickly,” Polly said. “Someone may have heard the gunfire.”
As they backed away from him, he began to stir. “He be wakin’ up,” Amari whispered frantically.
Polly grabbed Clay’s knapsack and tossed the gun inside it. “We must flee! If he gets loose, he will surely find us and kill us.”
“Maybe not,” Amari replied. She pointed to a spot just beyond Clay’s thigh where a large rattlesnake slithered toward him.
“What should we do?” Polly whispered.
“Nothing,” Amari replied quietly.
Clay opened his eyes and focused slowly on Amari, Polly, and Tidbit sitting a few feet away from him. A trickle of blood oozed from the wound on his head. He pulled at his restraints. “How dare you?” he roared as he became more aware of what they had done. He yanked at the ropes. “I’ll kill you for this!”
“I don’t think so,” Polly replied.
“Mark my words, you’ll pay for this!” he warned viciously as he tugged at the ropes some more. “When we get back, I’ll throw that boy in his mother’s cooking pot and make her watch him die!”
“We not go back,” Amari told him clearly.
“Oh, yes, you are,” Clay swore as he continued to struggle with the ropes. “You can’t even tie a decent knot,” he crowed triumphantly, freeing one arm. Even if you run, I will find you and catch you, and I plan to spend the rest of my life making you suffer.”
“Rest of life might not be long,” Amari observed quietly. The snake, unmoving, coiled tensed and ready only inches from Clay’s leg.
Clay looked directly at Amari, his face a mask of rage and confusion. “I tried to be kind to you,” he told her. “How can you repay me like this?”
She looked at him with pity. “You just not understand.”
Angrily, Clay continued to wiggle and struggle with the ropes that held him. Then he turned his head and spotted the snake. He froze. The snake was motionless as well.
Amari looked at Polly. Polly looked at Tidbit. They all looked toward the woods. In silent agreement they hurried away from Clay.
PART EIGHT
POLLY
36. SHOULD WE TRUST HIM?
THEY RAN. FASTER THAN POLLY THOUGHT POSSIBLE, they jumped over logs and under low-hanging branches, the only thought being to put miles between them and Clay Derby. Her left side cramped and ached, but they dared not stop. With great urgency, they hurried through the darkness, Amari clutching one of Tidbit’s arms, Polly the other. His little feet barely touched the ground. Sweat poured down Polly’s face. Finally, after what seemed like miles of frantic running, they stopped by a shallow river to rest.
Amari was breathing so hard, she threw up. Tidbit collapsed by the stream and then crawled into the water to cool off. Slowly, her pounding heart slowed, but Polly knew they were probably still in grave danger.
“Do you think the snake got him?” Polly asked.
“Maybe snake not mad enough to bite,” Amari said as she worked to catch her breath. “Maybe Massa Clay got loose and kill the snake,” she added fearfully.
Tidbit emerged from the water, dripping wet. “If Massa Clay find us again, he gonna take me to my mama?”
Polly clasped her hand to her mouth, shocked and saddened at the child’s question. Polly looked at Amari, then told Tidbit carefully, “Tidbit, if Clay comes back, he will try to hurt us. So we have to keep running and stay very quiet. Do you understand?”
Tidbit shifted from one foot to another, looking surprisingly mature. “I don’t care if he beat me. I just wanna see my mama.” He was blinking back tears.
Amari grabbed him then and pulled him to her. “I know, little one. I know.”
Polly sat down with them, and the two girls tried their best to comfort the little boy. Through it all, she listened to the night sounds but could hear no approaching footsteps. “Do you think we did wrong to leave him like that?” she whispered to Amari.
“Massa Clay not in our hands no more,” Amari replied.
Reluctantly, Polly picked up Clay’s knapsack and looked through it. In it was a hunk of dried salt pork, a few apples, some wrapped cheese, and several hard biscuits. She gave one to Tidbit.
“My mama made this bread,” he said, first sniffing it, then holding it close to his body. “I wanna go see my mama!” He began to cry.
Amari looked at the boy sadly. “We come too far to go back,” she said. “’Sides, if I goes back, I be a slave again. And I ain’t never bein’ no slave ever no more.” Polly nodded thoughtfully and stood back up. Amari picked up Tidbit, and they headed south once again.
They did not stop for two days, moving even during the day, staying well away from the roads as they did. They saw people only in the distance. Tidbit’s little legs struggled to keep up. Many times he had to be carried or cajoled into continuing the journey. There was no sign of Clay, but they never stopped looking over their shoulders.
“We should have tried to find Clay’s horse,” Polly said wearily one evening.
“No,” Amari replied. “Better this way.”
One evening, bone-weary and dragging through the red-clay mud of still another shallow river they had to cross, they paused to search for crayfish or clams. “I found five!” Tidbit whispered excitedly. Even he knew to be ever vigilant and quiet.
Then Polly saw him: a boy about their age, sitting on a rock overlooking the river. He was hunched over a fishing pole and did not appear to notice them.
Polly motioned to Amari and Tidbit to get back into the darkness of the pine trees. Hushpuppy also silently disappeared. But just as Polly stepped backward, the boy looked up.
He had dirty reddish hair, a torn shirt, and wore no shoes. He gazed at Polly without much surprise. “Who are you?” he asked bluntly.
“I suppose I could ask you the same thing,” she retorted, hands on her hips. She wanted to show him how bold and unafraid she was, but her heart quaked.
“What are you doing out here in the middle of the night?” he countered.
Polly raked her fingers through her hair and brushed a twig off her dress. She couldn’t believe she was worrying about how she looked! “Getting some fresh air. And who goes fishing after dark?”
“I do.”
“You catch anything?” she asked.
“No. Too dark,” he admitted. He looked at her closely in the moonlight. “I never seen you round these parts before.”
Polly replied saucily, “There’s probably a lot
you’ve never seen.”
“What’s your name?” the boy asked.
“Polly.” She immediately gasped and put her hand to her mouth. She should have told him Sarah or Sally or anything other than her real name!
“So, Miss Polly, you look like you got a lot to hide. You’re dirty, you look hungry, and you look lost.”
“I know exactly where I am. I am speaking to a young man who does not have the good manners to be polite to a lady!” She tried to speak to him with dignity, but it was hard with muddy feet.
He laughed. “My name is Nathan. I live in that little house through those trees there. We ain’t got much—just a house, a barn, some chickens, and a couple of skinny cows and pigs. But we got a little land, and it’s ours, and we make do. My daddy drinks at night, so I go fishing. And you are probably right about my manners—my mama would have taught me, but she died.” He tossed a stone into the water. “But I do know a pretty girl when I see one—even if she is muddy-footed and saucymouthed.”
Polly was surprised to find herself blushing. Her whole face and neck felt like hot, stinging needles. She’d never felt like this before. She cleared her throat. “I must be on my way,” she said as she tried to go around the rock on which he sat.
“Do you know where you are?” he asked.
“Of course,” she replied.
“Where?” he challenged her.
“I don’t have to tell you anything,” she said with a boldness she did not feel. She glanced nervously in the direction of the forest where Amari and Tidbit hid.
He gazed at her curiously. “You’re not far from Savannah, Georgia.” He paused. “Is that where you want to be?”
“Exactly,” Polly said with annoyance.
“What about the others?” he asked quietly.
“What others?” Polly said, trying to bluff. “I am alone.”
“The slave girl. The little boy. The dog.” He continued to gaze at her with a half smile. “I spotted you yesterday, and I been following you.”
Polly’s eyes went wide. “You’ve been . . . Why?” Polly asked nervously. “Do you work for Clay Derby?”
“Never heard of him,” Nathan replied. “I just figure you must be runaways, but I never seen such a raggedy bunch before.”
“We are on a mission of mercy,” Polly began desperately. “I am mistress of—”
“Of mud?” The boy interrupted her and laughed out loud. “Y’all look like you need some mercy yourselves. You are obviously nobody’s mistress—I figure an unhappy indenture. The two little Negroes are runaways for sure.” He paused and gazed at Polly long enough to make her feel uncomfortable. Then he said slowly, “I figure that your little ‘mission of mercy’ is worth a bucket of reward money.”
Polly backed away from him slowly. “You mustn’t tell,” she whispered, pleading. “We have come so far, and our journey has not been easy.”
Nathan grinned. “I can see that.” Then he pointed to the woods where the others were hiding. “Tell your friends to come out. Maybe I can help.”
Polly hesitated, unsure of what to do. She knew Amari and Tidbit had heard everything.
“Go on, Polly-girl,” Nathan said gently. “Call them. You can trust me.”
Again her father’s special name for her was spouting from the mouth of a cocky young man. This time, however, she almost liked the way Nathan said it, with just a hint of a Georgia twang. She opened her mouth to call the others, but before Polly could speak, Amari stepped quietly out of the darkness of the trees. She held Tidbit on her hip. Hushpuppy, hovering close, growled quietly.
Nathan looked at them for a moment, then asked, “Are you all hungry?”
Polly nodded stiffly, still uncertain.
Nathan jumped down from the rock and stood face-to-face with the dirty, tired group. “Look, I got to tell you, my daddy would turn y’all in, get the reward money, and have it drunk away by Sunday next. But me, I think slavery is stupid. I figure anybody ought to be free enough to go fishing at midnight if he wants to.” He grinned again. “It is a big country, with room enough for the Indians, for black folk to find their own place, and for pretty little white girls with dirty feet!”
Polly was sure her furious blushes were evident even in the moonlight. She’d never met anyone who made her feel so fluttery.
Amari coughed. “You got food?” she asked quietly.
“Not much,” Nathan replied. “Follow me.” They trailed the boy through the forest, which thinned gradually to a clearing where a small garden and a larger field of crops could be seen. Two small buildings—a house and a barn made of rough wood and logs—stood nearby. “I’m going to hide y’all in the barn. I do most of the work around the place, so Daddy is not likely to find you if you stay quiet.” He led them through a small door, pulled fresh hay for pallets for them, and told them he’d return in a moment.
Amari looked around nervously. “This be a trap?” she asked.
“I hope not,” Polly replied. “He had an honest face.”
Amari smiled at her. “I think his face make you happy.”
Polly blushed again. “Nonsense,” she said quietly. She didn’t want to admit that Amari was right.
Nathan was back a few minutes later with bread, cheese, dried venison, and apples. “This is all I could find, and my daddy is going to wonder why I got so hungry, but I’ll just tell him I been out all day hunting. Eat,” he urged them.
The hungry group of travelers took the food gratefully. Tidbit even ate the apple cores and promptly fell asleep on the nearest pile of straw.
“Where y’all headed?” Nathan asked the girls.
“South,” Amari replied.
Nathan looked confused. “Don’t most runaways head north?”
Amari glanced at Polly, who lowered her voice and asked Nathan, “Have you ever heard of a place called Fort Mose?”
Nathan looked up in surprise. “That’s down in Spanish territory. Far south.”
“It be real?” Amari asked.
“Of course it’s real. You been heading toward a place that you didn’t even know for sure existed?” he asked, scratching his head.
“Amari always believed in it,” Polly explained.
“My father does some trading—much of it illegal, I’m sure—and you’d be surprised who shows up here from time to time. I’ve met French beaver trappers, English gun sellers, and Dutchmen who sell indentures.”
Polly tensed.
“Last month,” Nathan continued, “a Spanish priest from this place called Fort Mose came through here, trying to teach my daddy the ‘one true faith.’ Daddy just laughed at the man and told him to get out. Unless a man has a plan where my daddy can make money, he’s not interested.”
“What man say ’bout Fort Mose?” Amari asked. “Streets of gold?”
“Streets of mud would be my guess,” Nathan replied. “It is a small place but different from most. From what I could tell, it is run by Spanish soldiers and priests. Runaways are welcome and given their freedom, as long as they promise to swear allegiance to the Spanish king.”
“Freedom to do what?” Polly asked.
“Freedom to stay there, I suppose,” Nathan told her. “If you leave, you lose Spanish protection and are subject to the laws of the colonies.”
Polly and Amari exchanged looks.
“No whippings?” Amari asked, unconsciously touching her scarred back.
“I would think not,” Nathan said, sympathy showing on his face. “How far have you come from?”
“Charles Town. South Carolina Colony.”
Nathan looked impressed. “That’s an awfully long walk.” He was quiet for a moment. “Can you tell me what you were running away from?”
Polly thought for a moment. “A very bad situation,” was all she would say. “Do you know the woods around here quite well?”
“For sure,” Nathan replied proudly. “I know every rock and holler and tree within a hundred miles. Squirrel and deer see me coming and tremb
le, ’cause they know they could be my dinner!” He laughed.
Polly felt relaxed with this pleasant young man. She had a feeling that her father would have liked Nathan—taking him fishing and telling him tall tales. She wished she could talk to her father just one more time—ask his advice or listen to him laugh uproariously at his own jokes after dinner. “It is so very kind of you to help us,” she told Nathan. She felt herself reddening again.
Nathan looked directly into her eyes. She had to look away. “I will show you the safest path through the forest after you have rested,” he said. “Remember to stay very quiet. My father is just plain mean.”
The three travelers nodded and snuggled into the clean straw. Polly dreamed of her father for the first time since his death—his bawdy jokes, his weakness for ale, and the soft grin on his face whenever he looked at her. “My princess. My Polly-girl,” he would say when he kissed her good night. She slept soundly for the first time in many days.
But the next morning she was awakened suddenly by a redfaced man who held a pitchfork in his hand. He towered over the three children. “What this we got here in my barn? Two niggers? And a dirty little white gal who must be poor white trash if she be sleepin’ with ’em!”
Amari jumped back, pulling Tidbit behind her.
“Please, sir,” Polly began to say.
Then Nathan appeared in the doorway, his face showing both agony and apology as he looked at Polly. “What you got here, Daddy?”
“You hear anything creeping around last night, boy?”
“No, sir,” Nathan said. His voice cracked as he spoke.
“Didn’t I tell you about locking the barn door to keep out animals? Never figured I’d have to lock out the likes of this here. ’Course, they ain’t much better than animals.” He laughed roughly.
“I’m sorry, sir. I thought it was locked.” The look on Nathan’s face pleaded with Polly to understand—or to forgive.
Polly wasn’t sure if she should believe his looks of apology or not. She looked at Nathan with great disappointment. “Let me explain, sir,” she began, trying to appease Nathan’s father.
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