Treasure in a Tin Box (Wall of Silence Book 1)

by Dorey Whittaker

  16. Ruby Remembers Hiding in the Caverns

  CHAPTER 13

  Pearl Remembers When our Daddy was Sold

  SISTER AND I were only five years old, but I still remember that night in the old cabin. Momma sat us down and told us that Master Stewart was sending our daddy away. She would not even allow us to cry. She said, “You must not betray yourself, Pearl. You keep your feelings hidden, or Ms. Victoria will send you away too. You watch your face; don’t you show any attitude at all. Pearl, you hear me?”

  Momma always worried about me. Ruby was so shy she naturally kept her thoughts to herself, but for me…it was so hard to act like nothing was wrong. Our world was falling apart, and we were not allowed to show our feelings. I believe that is why I have such a hard time letting people see how I feel. It was so dangerous back then, and I dared not give in—even as a five-year-old. No child should have to fear betraying her feelings.

  Master Stewart and Ms. Victoria were not aware that they had been overheard, nor did they feel remotely accountable to tell Momma their plans. But we knew Daddy was going to be hauled away in two days, and we were to act like nothing was wrong.

  Very early that terrible morning, we all got up and said our goodbyes. Daddy Charlie gave each of us a hug and wiped away our tears. Even brother Samuel cried. That was when Momma pulled something wrapped in a filthy old burlap sack from under the bed. She carefully unwrapped it and held up the prettiest box we had ever seen. She proudly held it high for all of us to behold. Momma turned to Samuel and said, “Wipe your tears, Samuel. This has been my box for many, many years. I have kept it hidden so it would not be taken away from me, but today, I am giving it to you.”

  Momma then went over to Daddy and twisted a button off his shirt. She shoved that button into Brother’s hand and said, “Samuel, you hold tight to that button today. It is all you will ever have of your daddy’s—but it is more than most of us will ever have. It is your reminder that you did have a daddy and that he loved you with all his heart.”

  To this day, I remember how Samuel held onto that button that day. I thought he was going to crush it into dust, he held it so tightly. I also remember how hard it was for Momma to get it away from Samuel that night. She told him that she needed to put his button into the tin box so he would not lose it. Then she told him that she would return the box to her hiding place to keep it safe. Brother argued with Momma. He did not want to let go of his button, but Momma won out in the end.

  That morning, Daddy was hauled off to the auction house, and we never saw him or heard from him again. The only good thing was the four of us were still safe—at least for the moment. Ruby and I were five when our daddy was sold away. As we were preparing to serve the dinner that night, Momma warned us again about showing any feelings. Momma kept a fairly close rope around us so she could stop anything before it started. Weeks passed before Momma relaxed and let me move about the house without her.

  It took me more than a few weeks to fully swallow my anger at losing my daddy, but I did get to the place where I could move on. To tell you the truth, I really don’t believe I ever really got past that experience, but life does go on; and so did I.

  Right after sending our daddy away, Momma, Sissy and I were moved into the main house and for the next two years, we only saw Samuel on Sunday afternoons. He was never allowed inside of the main house, but he was allowed to sit on the kitchen steps and visit with Momma, Sissy, and me for a few hours once a week. Sissy and I had to be very careful what we said or Momma would send us to our room, and we would miss our time with our brother.

  By the time Sissy and I were eight, Master Stewart was also getting tired of having to listen to his children’s lessons being conducted in the dining room. He would come home from one of his political meetings so riled up he had no patience for their chatter. He wanted the schoolroom moved out of the main house, so the large keeping room that separated the new wing from the main house was divided into two rooms. One side was to be used as a classroom for Master Charles and Miss Elizabeth, and the room next to the kitchen became the dry goods room.

  By the time we were six, Momma had trained us both to do simple tasks around the kitchen and keeping room. My favorite task was measuring out dry goods for Mother—not because I cared about baking, but because I could sit quietly by the keeping door and hear the tutor in the next room teaching Master Charles and Miss Elizabeth. Master Charles was almost finished with school and hated every minute he had to sit in there with the tutor. I’d hear him complain, saying there was no reason he needed to know all this stuff. His daddy had already purchased his land, and he would be rich like his daddy very soon and wanted to get on with it.

  Miss Elizabeth complained less but never seemed to do well with her assignments. She was only a few years older than Ruby and me, but at the age of fourteen, she was already talking about when she was going to get married. She intended to marry as soon as she turned sixteen and could not be bothered with spelling. I, on the other hand, drank up the tutor’s lessons. I wanted to know everything all at once. One day Momma came to me and said that Ms. Victoria had taken a liking to me; and when Sister and I turned seven, Ms. Victoria intended that I should learn how to read, write and add sums so I could take over the household accounts someday. I remember feeling very proud and excited until Mother sadly added, “But Ruby is going to start training as a domestic.”

  It took me years before I understood why Ms. Victoria had made this decision. Ruby was sweet, kind and helpful, but quite shy. I, on the other hand, was more outgoing and bristled at the bridle. Mother used to say that Ruby was always going to get along, but she worried that I would never learn to cuff my mouth. I had definite opinions, and I had a hard time hiding them—a dangerous weakness for any slave. I believe Ms. Victoria took my outgoingness as being smarter than Ms. Ruby. That is not true. Ruby is every bit as smart as I am; she is just shy and willing to accept things without bristling. Ms. Victoria took her shy nature as being backward.

  For several years Ruby was instructed in everything she needed to know about cleaning a large house, doing laundry and mending and anything else Miss Elizabeth ordered her to do. During this same time, I was allowed to work in the kitchen with Momma every morning until it was time for my schooling. Master Charles had just recently moved out on his own, and Elizabeth was almost finished with her schooling. All afternoon the tutor began the work of educating me. Although I loved to learn, this woman made it very clear that she did not approve of teaching slave children, but I guess the money was good. There never was any love lost between the two of us, but I did learn how to read—which was all I cared about.

  When we turned nine, Miss Elizabeth married her second cousin who was much older than she was, and Master Stewart gave Ruby to her as one of her wedding gifts. She was to be Ms. Elizabeth’s downstairs domestic. Her home was only five miles away but might as well have been five hundred. Mother and I were both sure we would never see our Ruby ever again.

  Plantation life was really getting hard. For several years before the war actually began, tensions ran high in the house because Master Stewart was unable to sell or trade slaves. It seemed that all of his fellow owners were afraid the upcoming war might go badly. Therefore, they did not want to invest in labor, only to have it taken away from them. Even though there was tension in the house, we felt good. We thought we were finally safe from trades; we simply hadn’t counted on his giving us away as gifts.

  I get angry when people say that slaves had it pretty good. We did have it better than anyone we knew, but having my sister packed up and sent off when we were just nine, believing I would never see her again, is a pain I cannot even begin to express. I remember the night before Ruby was to be shipped off. Momma was upset about losing our Ruby, but she could not express her feelings. She took us out to the canning shed and sat us down, and with tears in her eyes, she warned, “What I is gonna say to you girls is very bad.”

  I remember the look on my sister’s fa
ce when she learned she was being sent away. We had just turned nine, but Ruby sat there—quiet as a mouse, no tears, no tantrum, nothing. I, on the other hand, was beside myself. None of Momma’s warnings could make me hold back my tears. I hated Ms. Victoria! I knew this was her doing, and I hated her for it.

  Momma was so worried that I would not hold my tongue that night that she made me promise her by saying, “Pearl, I lost Charlie and now my Ruby. Don’t you never make me lose you too! I woulds just lay down and die if you did.”

  When I saw my momma so broken, I hugged Momma’s neck and gave her my promise to obey. We both served the dinner meal that night, and Ms. Victoria acted as if separating families was the most common occurrence in the world. After all, her daughter needed some extra house help, and Ruby was certainly old enough to be a real help. That was the night I realized that, although this woman had cared about us, we were nothing to her but useful tools to be exchanged at her whim without the least bit of thought.

  Ruby was sent away in 1858, and the actual war, as we know now, was not going to start for three whole years. Even before the war became official, life was becoming difficult. Supplies were short, Master Stewart was often gone on political business, and Ms. Victoria refused to talk to, let alone manage, any of the field slaves.

  Master Stewart knew he could not leave the plantation in her hands, so he made arrangements to have a man named Brown come to the house for an interview. Mr. Brown was from North Carolina, and he had lots of experience managing plantations—at least that is what he told the master. With the master frequently gone and her children both gone, Ms. Victoria had no interest in staying home. Ms. Elizabeth lived only five miles away, and Ms. Victoria took to spending long periods of time at her daughter’s place, leaving Mr. Brown in charge of everything. We soon learned exactly how he intended to keep the slaves in line.

  Brother Samuel and the others worked hard, keeping the gardens going. From sunup to sundown, the new manager, Mr. Brown, had all of the men working the garden. Samuel was fourteen when Mr. Brown showed up. As soon as Master Stewart rode off, the whip came out. For three long months, Samuel toiled all day long in the Georgia heat without water—simply because it pleased Mr. Brown to make them work without water. Several of the older men could not take it. Remember, Master Stewart had long since sold all of the men under thirty-five, so it was Samuel and seven or eight worn-out slaves carrying the load. Brown began taking a liking to using the whip—especially on Samuel. I don’t think he worried much about the old men. He used Samuel as an example to keep the rest in line.

  Because all of the embargoes intended to break the resolve of the South, meat was in short supply. Even the wealthy whites could not use their money to bribe their way into portions of meat; meat bribery came with very harsh penalties. With no meat, all we had to look forward to after a long day of hard work was boiled vegetables. Once in a while Mr. Brown caught himself a rabbit, but he never shared it—not even with Ms. Victoria when she would come back to check on the plantation.

  Eventually, Master Stewart came back for a short visit. His political business was keeping him away more than he thought, and he was glad that Ms. Victoria was with their daughter. He did not know how long it would be before he could come back, so he spent several days boarding up the upstairs windows. He walked the land with Mr. Brown, looked in on the slaves and was shocked to see their condition. Brown told him a lie about how all of them had tried to run off, so naturally, he had punished them.

  Samuel told me he didn’t think Master Stewart believed his story, but he only told Mr. Brown to use a lighter hand on such old men and walked back into the main house. Master Stewart was in his study when Momma brought him some cold water and a plate of canned peaches she had tucked away.

  I was in the next room cleaning when I heard Master Stewart tell Momma, “I know that man has taken the whip to your Samuel, Hannah. What did Samuel do to deserve a whipping?”

  I cautiously peeked around the corner and saw Momma look Master Stewart right in the eyes and say, “You know my Samuel is a loyal boy to you, Master Stewart. You can trust him. I don’t think you can trust that Mr. Brown.”

  Master Stewart stood up, and I was afraid he was going to hurt my momma for talking so straight to him. Instead, he walked over to the window that looked out over the garden. He stood there for a long time before turning back to Momma and saying, “I’m going to take that whip away from him. I think he likes it a little too much. I am going to give Mr. Brown three more weeks to show me he can run this place for me. I am going to give you this money packet. It is Brown’s wages. I don’t dare hand it over to him right now. I think he will just take off with it. I haven’t yet paid him for the three months he has already managed. I think I can be back here in three weeks, and I will decide then if I am going to keep him on. I’m giving it to you, Hannah, because I can tell that Mr. Brown has been through my office. You put it somewhere safe for me. I trust you, Hannah. Do not disappoint Ms. Victoria.”

  As it turned out, Master Stewart was not able to return in three weeks like he had intended. Every able-bodied white man had been called into service. Master Stewart thought he had more time, but a war was being planned. Mr. Brown was tired of waiting for his pay, and the new Confederate Army was paying men a conscript for signing up. Momma knew if she handed over that pay sack, Mr. Brown would stick around. So she just played dumb, and we watched that man pack his satchel, go into Master Stewart’s office, take several items that would be easy to sell in town and off he went.

  Once he was gone, only us slaves were left, so we did what we always did; we ran the plantation until Ms. Victoria, Ms Elizabeth, and Sissy came back home; but since it is her story, she needs to tell it.

  CHAPTER 14

  Ruby Remembers Life with Ms. Elizabeth

  IT WAS DAY three of the Atlanta riots, and with the need to keep my nine-year-old mind off of what was going on in town, Ms. Pearl and Ms. Ruby continued their stories about their lives as slaves. After breakfast, while still hiding in the back bedroom, Ms. Ruby leaned against her bed, tucked her good leg under her bad one and began.

  I was nine years old when I was ordered to climb into the back of the wagon old Master Stewart had used to haul his slaves to auction. As I waited to be loaded onto the wagon, I remembered the day our daddy had climbed up onto that very wagon, had the shackles locked around his ankles, and off he went—never to be heard from again. I still remember that day. Ms. Victoria allowed my momma to stand at the window in Master Stewart’s library, but only if Momma promised not to make a fuss. Momma had one hand on my shoulder and her other hand on Pearl’s. I wanted to tap on the glass so Daddy would look up at us, but Momma shook my shoulder and said, “Be quiet, Ruby; he knows we are here.”

  Only after Master Stewart slapped the reins, and the horses began pulling the wagon up the long drive did our daddy look back at us. He was shackled hand and foot so he could not wave goodbye, but I will always remember his big smiling face with tears streaming down his cheeks. Momma just stood there still as a statue. I wanted to scream but knew that would never be allowed. I dared not look over at Pearl. I knew if I did, I would not be able to hold back the tears. Little children should never be ordered to hold back their tears because doing so changes who they are.

  Remembering the morning I had said goodbye to my daddy, I asked Momma and Pearl to stand at that very same window when the wagon hauled me away, so I could look back and smile at them just as my daddy had.

  Ms. Victoria refused to ride on the wagon with Master Stewart that day; instead, she climbed into the family buggy, pulling her huge skirt in just before Elmer, Master’s driver, closed the door behind her. Ms. Victoria stuck her head out the window and yelled to Master Stewart, “I am not going to eat your wagon dust all the way to Elizabeth’s place. Let Elmer take the lead.” Elmer quickly climbed up into the driver’s seat and gave the horse a quick snap of the whip. Ms. Victoria sat back and rearranged her skirt for the long, dusty rid
e to her daughter’s new house.

  I was surprised when Master Stewart climbed up onto the wagon seat. He had not come back and shackled me to the wagon. At first I thought he had simply forgotten, but I soon realized that he was not worried about my jumping out and running. I was little, and I was scared to death of Barkley, Master Stewart’s bloodhound. Barkley was always at Master Stewart’s side. The wagon bed had a set of stairs that could be leaned against the back, so it was easier for the slaves to climb up while shackled. Old Barkley was used to climbing up the stairs, then squeezing past the slaves to make his way up to the front. He would get down on his belly and scoot under the seat and then climb up and sit proudly beside his master. Barkley knew his job was tracking runaways, and so did all the slaves. Every so often, Barkley looked back to make sure I was still sitting exactly where I was supposed to be sitting.

  Even though I was not shackled like my daddy was, I dared not wave my arms around for fear of Barkley’s taking that as some kind of attack. I slowly turned my head back toward the house, and I could see Momma and Pearl standing at the window. Pearl placed her hand up against the glass as if to say, “Goodbye, Ruby.” As the wagon reached the end of the long driveway, I spotted my big brother Samuel’s standing at attention in the front field. He did not wave or draw any attention to himself; he simply stood at attention and watched me pass by and kept his eyes on me until we were far enough down the road that I could no longer make out his face. Only then did I turn around and check on Barkley. Sure enough, Barkley was still staring at me. I settled back against the side of the wagon and tried to pull my dress collar up over my face to shelter me from the dust the horses were kicking up.

  The dust was just awful. Ms. Victoria was anxious to see her daughter. Miss Elizabeth was just recently home from her wedding trip, so Ms. Victoria ordered Elmer to speed up the buggy. She did not care that the increase of speed meant lots more dust for those following right behind her. Neither did she care that increasing the wagon’s speed meant a much rougher ride for those sitting on the bare wagon bed—namely me.