by Terry Persun
The leaning man looked over at the man at the end of the log. “Hell, Jesse, who send a boy out to chase down five old niggers robbed a han-full a eggs?” They all laughed.
“You don’t know what white folks do with they kids sometimes,” Jesse said.
Leon listened to them. His stomach cried out.
The smaller man who sat next to the giant who had dragged Leon into their camp said, “The boy’s hungry.” He pointed at Leon. “You hungry?”
Leon nodded his head.
“I’m feedin’ ‘im,” the man announced.
“Ain’t juss your food,” the leaning man said.
“This piece is.” The man crouched down and stretched an arm toward Leon as if he were a wild animal. A half-eaten chicken leg pushed out from the man’s greasy fingers.
Leon took the leg and popped it into his mouth, holding the bulbous bone in his fingertips. The meat slid off into his mouth. He chewed and swallowed, then licked and gnawed at the bone.
“What yo’ name, boy?” The man who had given him the chicken asked.
“Leon.”
“Leon what?”
“Juss Leon.”
“No need to be scared. We ain’t hurt no one.” The leaning man lifted slowly to a standing position. “Ma-name’s Cracker-Jack.” He took a breath. “That there, who give you his chicken bone, that Buddy.”
Buddy nodded.
“Next there, that Big Josh.” Cracker-Jack pointed to the opposite end of the log. “You probably got that there Jesse.”
Leon waited, looking at the last man. The other four looked at the last man, too. Then they started giggling.
The last man looked from one to the other of them. “Well, God-do-diddly-dam,” he said. “My name’s Bob.”
Everyone burst into loud laughs except for Leon and Bob. Cracker-Jack slapped his thighs. “He named Bob after an old white man’s horse. He not even named after no man.”
“Ain’t so do-damned funny to me,” Bob said. “Looka him.” Bob motioned toward Leon. “He got a nigger’s name. What you suppose his ma and pa thinkin’?”
“Maybe they foreigners and don’t know no better. He do look a little I-talian,” Cracker-Jack said.
“He look dirty white to me,” Buddy said. “He been in the sun all summer, I ‘spect.”
Big Josh handed another piece of chicken over to Buddy, who handed it to Leon. Leon ripped some breast meat from the bird and stuck it in his mouth.
Cracker-Jack, obviously in charge if anyone was, motioned for Jesse to hand over some bread.
Leon took it right away and stuffed it into his mouth beside the half-chewed chicken breast. He stared at the ground waiting for the hammer to fall.
CHAPTER 9
Despite the conversation of the five men, their through-the-night discussions, singing, and laughter, Leon seldom woke, and when he did, he only rolled over and fell back to sleep. In the morning, he awoke to the sweet smell of breakfast stew. His arm had fallen asleep. His hands, together like in prayer, rested under the side of his face. The stoked cooking fire burned against his back. He sat up, dazed and hungry. It took a few minutes of rubbing his arm to bring life back to it.
In daylight, without the shifting light and dark, the appearances of the five men were more accurately revealed. They were very old. Leon didn’t know how old, but they all moved slowly, showing wrinkles like ripples on water, and had white hair.
Jesse stirred the pot hanging over the fire. “Where Buddy wit them mushrooms?” he asked no one in particular.
“He comin’.” Cracker-Jack said.
Leon had thought to eat mushrooms when he was hungry, but never learned which were poisonous. He hoped Buddy knew.
Bob hobbled over and kneeled next to Leon. “What you real name?”
Leon looked into the deep chasms of Bob’s face.
“Come-on. You runnin’? Kilt somebody?”
“It’s Leon. My real name.”
“Naw.” Bob laughed. “I got one boy name of Leon. Ain’t heard a no white man namin’ his boy Leon.”
“I’m not white.”
Bob slapped Leon’s face lightly with a leather palm. “You ain’t black neither.”
“I know.”
“So, we got that cleared. Now, what you really doin’ here?”
“I free to do what I want, ain’t I?” Leon said.
“S’pose you are. You don’t fend well, though. That tell me you a cared-for nigger if you one at all, or a set-free white boy don’t know what he got his-self into. I be-diddly-do-thinkin’ you mixin’ a bit a truth wit yo’ big lie.”
Cracker-Jack shuffled over to them. He had a long look to his face, which made his flat nose appear extra wide. His skin looked as though it had swallowed all the night shadows, so black it was almost featureless. “We don’t need to know no truth. Yo’ truth belong to you,” he said.
“Juss curious,” Bob said.
Leon turned away without saying anything.
Bob moaned into a slouched stand. “Don’t want this boy slittin’ no throats while we sleepin’.”
“He won’t slit nothin’.”
Bob followed Cracker-Jack back to the log. He yelled over the fire, “I know you white ‘cause I see that book you hidin’. Unless you steal it from your master outta spite.”
“Ain’t no masters,” Big Josh said. “And, Negroes can read too.”
“Yeah. You right. Look at us,” Bob said, “we’re five fish-flaimin’ freeee niggers who be too damn-dimmidy old to clean pots or sweep out stalls.”
Buddy showed up with an armful of cleaned mushrooms that he threw into the pot Jesse attended.
They all laughed at Bob’s joke.
Leon, though, sat up straight, curious at their laughter. He didn’t understand. “What’s funny about being free?”
“Free,” Cracker-Jack yelled, and they all howled louder. “Boy, we ain’t ask to be free. We set free. You know why? ‘Cause we ol’. We can’t labor no more. Maybe they ain’t no slavery, but they ain’t no jobs neither. Not for ol’ Negroes like us.”
“But my Cookie can work,” Bob said. “She can still swaddle a chile and cook a good meal.” He quieted. “I miss my Cookie.”
“Boy, we all got wives who probably work ‘til they dead. We no good fer nothin’ ‘cept roamin’. We roamers,” Cracker-Jack said.
“Not Big Josh,” Jesse said.
Cracker-Jack glanced over at Big Josh. “Nope. Big Josh ain’t got no woman. Ain’t no woman wanna be poked every night by his big stick.”
Leon’s throat hardened and his chest felt compressed. He imagined Hillary’s bare breasts. He recalled Big Leon and Bess and how they related, how sex had tortured his whole family. Oh how he wanted it all gone. Forgotten. After all, he’d gone through the river of black hell and wanted it – his past – to disappear.
“Stew’s ready,” Jesse announced.
Despite his shyness to this point, Leon perked up and crawled around the fire to Jesse’s side.
“You lucky we got a extra pot we can feed you in,” Jesse said.
Buddy stroked his beard while Jesse dished out breakfast and handed plates around. “You know, young Jimmy White here could run for us.”
Several of the men nodded.
“He does owe us a couple meals,” Cracker-Jack said.
Big Josh, speaking for the first time said, “He small enough to shove through a window.”
Leon didn’t like the word shove, although the idea was accurate.
“We could use a younger helper,” Buddy said.
“Lick-bam-dibbledy,” Bob said, “you like to be our boy? Our Jimmy White?”
Leon swallowed. “Ain’t nobody’s boy. But I’ll help you. You been kind.”
“Ding-dong-dilly,” Bob slapped his knee, ‘we turning the tables. Got ourselves a white boy.”
Leon laughed.
After breakfast, all except Leon joined in for cleanup. Cracker-Jack and Big Josh bundled the blankets, Buddy reduce
d the fire to cold with a pot of water, then smoothed out the pit until it nearly disappeared. Jesse cleaned up the cookware and handed it over to Bob, who packed it into a bundle no bigger than a size ten hat.
Leon stayed out of the way.
When the others stood ready to go, Leon put on his hat and grabbed his sack.
“Take that.” Cracker-Jack pointed at the larger bundle.
Leon weighed the situation.
“You work for you food.”
Leon bent down and picked up the bundle. He followed tentatively as they walked deeper into the woods.
Jesse, Buddy, and Bob chatted about their wives and children. Leon stayed behind the men and listened when the conversation became loud enough. He lost long portions of information, but gathered that at some point each became too old for hard labor, and was set free to roam, torn from their families.
The stories included beatings and killings, having children sold, sisters sold and fathers set free against their will. Between the three men, they had some twelve or more children, many of whom were either taken from them or sold soon after birth. Some landowners let their Negroes have families, though, and he wondered why the children couldn’t have taken care of their fathers. Complain as they did, Leon got the distinct feeling that freedom was what the roamers wanted and what they cherished most.
Their lives, as the men discussed them, set a familiar tone with Leon. All Bob’s known and still living sons and daughters had already jumped the broom and had their own pickaninnies running around. Jesse, it appeared, had a ‘shit-house full of girls,’ each one a beauty, ‘a flower of light.’ And Buddy’s oldest, out of some number Leon didn’t hear, was already foreman and actually getting wages.
Leon heard this and felt proud of his own father. No matter what, Leon had never seen his father be mean to the other men. Leon touched the brim of his hat. He wanted to join in the conversation and say, “My Pappy was foreman too,” but he kept his mouth shut. They would never have believed him.
Bob, looked back at that moment and said, “That a fine hat.”
Leon shifted his pack so it didn’t drag so heavily on his thin shoulders. He nodded to Bob.
“Yo’ steal it?”
“It was a gift,” Leon said.
“Mighty fine.” Bob shook his head and got back to his former conversation. He stumbled and reached out for Jesse’s arm. Bob was the oldest by far. He walked as though every step was a struggle, but that keeping up was his lifeline.
Leon wondered whether freedom was worth it to men this old and planned to ask when he got the chance.
A little over half a day’s walk, with a few rests, the men quieted and slowed. Cracker-Jack came back along the ranks to Leon. “Jimmy White, you beg for some food.”
Leon’s eyes widened with fear. “I’ve never begged for food.” His feet moved around as if he couldn’t find a comfortable spot to stand. “I wouldn’t do it right.”
Buddy grabbed Leon’s pack. “You got a better chance than any of us.”
“What do I ask for?”
“A few day’s rations. Tell them you headed upriver for a job.” Buddy stroked his beard. “They’ll listen to you.”
“Can’t you just steal what you need?”
“Wham-dammit,” Bob said. “We gonna steal whilest you gettin’ your rations.”
“What if they notice?”
Cracker-Jack pulled Buddy’s hand from Leon’s shoulder and stepped in to turn Leon toward the farmhouse. He shoved Leon forward. “I show you.” After a few steps, Cracker-Jack slapped Leon to his knees. “Git down and follow me.”
Behind some bushes, Leon followed Cracker-Jack’s finger as he indicated the farmer and oldest son near the far woods fixing a fence, and then two young girls playing around their mother hanging clothes on a line along the side of the house. A chicken coop surrounded by cackling hens stood near the barn, and a pigpen had been poorly fashioned behind the coop.
Cracker-Jack turned to go back into the woods. Leon followed, his hands shaking.
“Listen, boy, we steal a piglet and a couple chickens, what ever we can get without no ruckus.” Cracker-Jack gathered his thoughts. “Me, Josh, Buddy, and Jesse do the stealin’. Bob already headin’ south to make camp.”
Leon looked for Bob and got smacked by a wide hand across his ear.
“Son, pay attention. Whatever happen you go into the woods the same way you comes out. If they thinks you headed North, they won’t look South.”
Jesse sniggered.
Leon rubbed the pain from his ear. He said, “What if there’s a lot of noise?”
“Go north into the woods and circle around. Dat farmer won’t track us, He’ll stay wit his family, afraid we be luring him into the wood like a pack a wild dogs,” Cracker-Jack said. “They mama can’t see the coop from where you’ll be standin’. We’ll be travelin’ behind the barn. You act as surprised as they do at any ruckus. You jus’ gets your rations and leisurely walk back north where you come from.”
Leon held his breath. He couldn’t refuse. The plan was set. He gripped his burlap sack. As soon as he walked toward the edge of the woods, the four others took off as fast as four old men can. Leon saw that they had sacks ready for their catch.
Before stepping into the sun, Leon rubbed his fingers along the brim of his hat. He took a deep breath and hummed. He walked into the open. Out the corner of his eye, he noticed that the farmer and his son were too busy to see him walking toward their house.
Rounding the corner from the front porch, the two little girls stopped playing, alerting the mother something was amiss.
She was dressed in a dirty white dress and had an apron tied across her front. She had clothes pegs in her mouth. When she saw Leon, she removed the pins and dropped them into the basket at her feet.
Leon removed his hat. He stood three heads above the woman, so he bent slightly out of courtesy. “Sorry to bother you, ma’am, but I’ve been traveling upriver looking for work.” He swallowed. His mouth went dry. “It’s been some days now. I could use—“
“Something to eat,” she said, her voice sweet and soft.
Leon continued to look at the basket between her legs. “Yes, ma’am.”
She glanced toward her husband and son at the far end of the field. “I think we can spare a bit.” She didn’t appear nervous at all.
Then, Leon heard a noise and a loud cackle from the chicken coop. He jumped.
The woman said, “That’s some chickens fighting out back. Don’t pay it no mind.”
Then a pig squealed.
The woman turned from the front door to say something else. Her eyes opened wide. Leon jumped back. While the woman spoke, Leon turned on his heels and ran for the woods.
“Don’t you want—“ Her voice trailed behind him. He hit the woods and kept going, making a wide loop.
By the time his heart slowed and he stopped, his feet had already blistered. Tears ran down his face, and his hands shook uncontrollably. He thought of the woman and two children and how friendly they had been. They took him as white. He sensed it. He should have looked her in the eye. He laughed at his misplaced fear. She probably went back to her clothes line wondering why the hell he ran away. Her husband would learn what had happened soon enough once he returned for the evening chores. By then, it would be too late.
Leon half walked and half ran west toward the river. When it was in view, he turned south.
Leon missed his home regardless of how isolated he had felt there. He missed having a father who would scuff his neck and chase him, a father who told him that he loved him.
A hawk screeched overhead, and when Leon looked up he saw it plummet to the ground toward some small animal. It landed in tall golden grass, but in a moment was back in the air, a young rabbit, gray and struggling, hung from clenched talons.
The hot sun fell lower in the sky. Its color changing as the magical light of twilight approached.
Leon ran. He had no idea how he would find the c
amp, but decided to enter the darkening woods in hopes that he’d stumble upon it. He was sorry he didn’t stay at the homestead long enough to get some food. If he couldn’t find the camp, he’d have nothing to eat. He patted the sack hanging from the rope belt he wore around his waist. If he did run into the roamers, he’d save some food in case he got separated from them later.
As the air turned cooler and the night spread through the woods, Leon heard the nocturnal animals wandering a short distance away. A raccoon growled as Leon passed too close to where it sat in the crook of a tree. Deer ran off when he stumbled. Owls hooted. The music of the night sounded much different than day sounds.
Leon tried to be alert to the slightest flicker of a campfire, or the softest sound of men talking. He followed what looked like a trail, where men could have traveled. Eventually, unbelievably, he heard them. It was too dark, by then, to run full-tilt through the woods, but he could jog, so he picked up the pace. His stomach anticipated the food they would surely be cooking. And he kept sniffing the air.
As he approached camp, Leon only counted four men. He slowed and looked around. Perhaps Jesse was collecting wood for the fire. When he took his next step a loud snap came from above. Leon glanced up as a pine branch slapped him on the back of his neck. Jesse stood to the side with his hand on the other end of the branch where he was bending it back.
“Why’d you do that?” Leon yelled.
“I was out scoutin’ for you.”
“How’d you get so far ahead of me?”
“We walk straight,” Jesse said. “We saw you runnin’ too. You goin’ so fast you probably miles before you turn south.”
Leon swatted at the branch and Jesse let it go.
“I smell somethin’.” Leon said.
“You runnin’ off, we had to cut our work too. Got one piglet and one chicken. You smell the pork.”
Leon’s mouth watered. He followed Jesse back into camp.
Jesse announced, “Looky what I find.”
Leon was amazed to see the men all smile at him as he entered camp.
“A little practice,” Cracker-Jack said. The others laughed.
“Sit down,” Buddy said. There was a place for Leon to sit with them. “You musta felt somethin’ wrong to run as fast as Jesse say.”