Half-Breed

by Anna L. Walls

  After six days on the high road heading directly into the setting sun, they reached a city that was obviously a trading center for all the farms in the area. The buildings were low, and the streets were very wide leaving plenty of room for parked wagons along the sides and for the passing of two in the middle. They spent a week on display in the square, sleeping under the wagons at night, though Canis was allowed to keep his blanket and stay under the wagon all the time.

  Once again, he watched as Patro exchanged a burly young man for some bright metal and later he handed out some different, darker metal for two older men; they looked tired, but Patro handed over the dark chips for them and seemed pleased.

  The stay out in the open of the road had been a pleasure for Canis, but staying out in the city square was hard. The days wore on Canis badly enough, but the nights were worse. Always someone was walking somewhere, or he heard raised voices somewhere else. Sleep was impossible. Even after several days of nothing more than a few moments of shut-eye, Canis wasn’t exhausted enough to ignore the sounds, and he would startle awake at every one. Patro gave Gem something to wipe on his face under his eyes on the third day.

  “There. You look so much better now,” she said when she was finished. He couldn’t imagine what it was she had done or why it would make him look better.

  It was a relief when their journey continued, the road they chose took a different direction putting the rising sun on their left. The high mound of the road sliced across the grasslands like a knife-cut turned inside out. Canis was so tired he tripped twice though the route wasn’t at all bad. When he tripped the third time, Patro put him on the back of the wagon on the blanket rolls again. Canis slept all day long, waking only when they came to a halt that night.

  On the fifth night, they camped down in a wide river valley not far from another big river. The next morning, the road curved into the morning sun, and two days later, they reached another small city. Misery City resembled Paul City in many ways. Most of the buildings had more than one floor and a few even had three, if counting the layers of windows was any indication.

  This city was a launch point for a considerable amount of river traffic. Such things as harvest goods, cattle and lumber could be seen heading downriver, but though the place fairly swarmed with people, Patro only kept them there for two nights, and none of those on the line were traded for any of the metal chips.

  When they left, they stayed with the river valley, keeping the morning sun on their left as the river allowed. The grass was turning yellow, the far away trees, when any were in sight, were generous with golds and reds, but the sky remained blue and the sun warm. Canis’s face took on a nut-brown color making his pale eyes appear to glow.

  Ten days later, they reached the royal seat of Omaha. This city was vastly different from any Canis had seen so far. The attachment of ‘royal seat’ to the name of the city must have something to do with the buildings being stone rather than wood. They were not as tall as those in Misery City, but many of them were covered with shingled red stone instead of the yellow grass so common everywhere else. Or maybe it was that the streets were covered with smooth rocks laid carefully together to cover the dirt. There would be little mud on these streets. Otherwise, Canis could see no reason for the extra long name.

  Patro took them to the market square and to one of those massive stone buildings, then he went inside while the rest of them waited. He came back out with a ring of four keys. Moving a couple at a time, those on the leashes were taken to great stone cages with bars on their front wall. When they were all behind bars and without their leashes for the first time, Canis found a dark corner and curled up with his arms around his knees. When the heavy metal door clanged shut, Canis winced as if he’d been struck. If only he’d known how bad this cage would feel, he would have made a break for freedom. Maybe he was growing used to his captivity.

  “Gem,” said Patro. Even his voice made Canis flinch. “Try to get him to come out of that corner. He’s not for sale yet, but he’s got to start sometime.” Canis didn’t look up to see who Patro was talking about.

  “Yes, master,” replied Gem.

  While the metal collar had antagonized his nerves, the bars were positively suffocating, though the cell was plenty big enough to stretch out or walk around. Sitting in a dark corner was no comfort. Even Gem’s gentle touch sent him cringing inside.

  “Move around,” she said. “Let the people see you.” He tried, but all he could do was pace along the bars like a caged animal.

  Patro saw this and gave Gem permission to desist her encouragement. His prowling was affecting the other five slaves in the pen.

  Gem pulled him back to his corner, but it was no use; once set in motion, Canis couldn’t seem to stop. In an effort to make Gem happy, he sat in his corner, but now that he’d moved once, he had to go again. He went and tested the bars, but they were just as sturdy as before, and still too close together even for his spare frame.

  The first time he reached through the bars, he tried to follow his hand, but the others pulled him away from his effort to slip through. Gem’s explanation of “we’ll all be beaten if you get away” was enough to halt that try, but he couldn’t seem to stop pacing as long as freedom was just on the other side of those bars. It was so close. He could touch it, almost. If he reached, but he didn’t really dare, not very hard. He couldn’t resist slipping his hand through though, just a little, just to feel the wide-open air, even though it was city air, at least it wasn’t caged air.

  Canis’s days in the cage became a grueling cycle. He’d pace to the bars and test their strength. He’d reach through, sometimes here, sometimes there, as far as he could reach without alarming his companions. He’d allow Gem to pull him away and head him back to his corner. In frustration, he’d curl up on his agony unable to cry, unable to explain the pain. Then the cycle would start again; he couldn’t stop, just as he couldn’t lie down and sleep.

  The nights were no better. Though they were farther from such common noises as a couple having an argument in the night, the city sounds were still there. Armed men walked through three or four times every night, and one night they chased another. Sometimes there was a cat yowling a mournful call or fighting another cat and sometimes it was a dog barking in the distance, even the slamming of a door far away served to startle him awake. There was no rest. Not here. Freedom was just there, just over there, so close yet so far away.

  During their stay, Patro exchanged over half of those Canis had become familiar with. Numbers were discussed about Gem too. Despite his inexplicable restlessness, Canis listened closely to the numbers discussed whenever Gem’s name was mentioned. Apparently, Patro wanted many chips of the metal he called gold in exchange for her flesh. It was confusing, but he was relieved that she didn’t go.

  Writing in the Sand

  Their departure from the city of Omaha came as a relief for Canis. His desire to put as much distance between him and those bars made the pace of the wagons seem slow though he knew they traveled no slower than before. He was so anxious to be away, he ignored his exhaustion, and the desire to pace within the range of his leash was nearly irresistible.

  Still heading mostly in the same direction, following the big river that twisted close to the road from time to time, they reached a small town called St. Joseph. It was almost two weeks since they left the stone city so Patro stopped here to take advantage of the sheltered location and the close proximity of the river. They made camp among the trees lining the river. The entire next day was bath day as the guards – they had left Omaha with two new men – took them one at a time to the river. After their baths, some got their hair cut. The men scraped the hair off their faces while the women combed and braided each others hair.

  Though the bathing was in what Gem called ‘comfort’, Canis still refused to wash on his own, though his struggles were only to resist going into the water. Those who handled him had been fair enough. He just couldn’t bring himself to get into all that
water, though he had grown to like being clean. He wished they would figure out some other way of getting clean that didn’t involve so much water.

  They traveled across rolling grasslands now, and the incessant wind forced Patro to break out cloaks for the slaves in order to protect their skin from windburn.

  During this leg of the journey, Canis was initiated to camp chores and he did the best he could. Under the supervision of the guards, he collected firewood and helped to set up Patro’s tent. He still tried to keep as much distance between himself and those same guards as he could, but he worked hard.

  On the evening of the fifth day, they reached another city with ‘royal seat’ attached to the name. Canis’s earlier supposition about the name having something to do with stone must be wrong. Though larger than other towns built of wood, there was no other outward difference. Maybe a certain size was the thing. At any rate, the city was called Kansas.

  Regular meals and washing over the last two and a half months were making a marked difference in Canis’s appearance. He was heavier and his skin was now a porcelain texture emphasizing his stony expression. Even his hair was showing improvement, though it wouldn’t look much like hair until all of the damaged straw had grown out enough to be cut away.

  During their week’s stay at Kansas, Patro sold four slaves and bought two more. After weathering time in a stone and barred cage, sleeping in the market square under their wagons was a not an issue. He didn’t really sleep, not really. He only dozed; opening his eyes enough to spot and identify whatever sound or scent had alerted him and then drifting off again. Here, where the wind never really stopped, he found the scents to be very informative if he took the time to decipher them.

  Here also, Patro took on another wagon to carry more water. When the new wagon, heavily loaded with water, pulled up to their hitching post, Canis wondered what the road ahead would be like. They already carried four big barrels with them and Patro saw to it they were filled at every stop. Why would they need eight more?

  They headed directly into the morning sun this time and out into the wind-driven grasslands again. The road might have been another high road, but it offered little protection from the cold winds. They had left the trees far behind leaving only scrub brush to break the wind; even the tall grass had been left behind in less windy climes. The grass here was short, tough grass, but as they traveled, even that became scarce.

  After eleven days, they reached a dusty little barge town called Overton late in the evening. Patro only spent one day here – time for them all to take a break from the incessant wind and to hire them a barge to cross the river. Early the next morning, they were on the road again, reaching another dusty town called Columbia late the next night.

  The next thirteen days, on a road that scarcely qualified as a road, brought them to their next stop, Louis City. After being barged across yet another massive river that did little to wet the surrounding landscape, their routine changed somewhat. There was no more high road, merely a dirt track across the sandy hills. When the wagon got stuck, everyone learned quickly to pull along with the horses.

  They camped at Vernon Wells, eight days into this leg of their journey. Why the place was named after a well, Canis couldn’t figure out. It was a collection of buildings and nothing more – one day, the wind would claim them too. They were camped among the buildings and Gem was fussing over him again.

  Canis liked her a lot so he decided to show her what he could do. He carefully traced the letters C a n i s in the sand.

  When Gem saw what he was doing, she said, “What’s this?”

  Canis pointed to himself and laboriously pronounced, “Canis.” Then he saw a look of concern in her eyes. He thought she was going to cry like his mother had. He tried to say not to, but the words wouldn’t come. His struggle was brief, though, as just then Patro came up behind them.

  “So, you can talk. I was beginning to wonder. How about telling me your name?”

  Alarmed and dismayed at being caught with his guard down, allowing a potential enemy to come so close undetected, Canis jumped and pulled away, staring at Patro with his unblinking stare. He hated surprises.

  “His name is Canis,” said Gem.

  “Canis is it,” said Patro. “Well, I suppose it’s a fitting name; it goes with the eyes. I think I’ll even let him keep it, at least until I sell him.” He looked at Canis a little longer then he knelt down directly in front of him. “Listen, boy. You’re a slave now. It’s time you learned how to act like one. I’ve let you go because I think you’re going to be special someday and you haven’t been too healthy, but I think your lessons can start, now that I know you can talk. Do you understand?”

  When Canis stared at him, showing no inclination to respond, Gem interrupted again. “I don’t think he can talk, master. I think his name may be the only thing he can say and that’s not easy for him. He can write it too.” She pointed to something on the ground. “At least, I think that’s his name; I can’t read. But that’s all. I honestly believe he can’t talk.”

  Patro looked at the writing in the dust. It did indeed spell out the boy’s name in clear and perfect letters. He looked back up into the boy’s eyes. “Can you understand me?”

  Canis was near panic once again. Never before had someone asked him a direct question – not one where they expected an answer anyway. His mother would ask all manner of little questions, but she never expected him to answer, it was just her way of talking to him.

  Patro was waiting for his answer. Did he understand? No, he didn’t, but he couldn’t tell him that either – the words just wouldn’t come out, no matter how hard he tried. He did the only thing he could do. Slowly, he moved his head from side to side once; it was nearly a twitch, but it was the best he could manage.

  “It’s simple,” said Patro with a frown. “Do as you are told and I’ll be fair with you. Disobey me and you’ll get a whipping. Understand?”

  Well that was clear enough. He dropped his chin in a nod, but he still didn’t understand, not really.

  “You better learn to do better than that, but it’s a start. Gem, I know you’ve been working with him. Teach him some of the rules tonight.”

  “Yes, master,” she said and curtsied low. This was a tremendous responsibility for her. Until now, she had worked with the boy simply because she liked and pitied him, but now she was responsible for what he learned. She had yet to convince him to bow to the masters. If he didn’t do that, now it was entirely possible she would be punished along with him for his transgressions.

  Patro attempted to take up some of Canis’s education too. Surely, if the boy could speak and write his name, he could say other words. Much to his disappointment, it seemed that what Gem said was true, Canis just couldn’t make words come out of his mouth, and writing seemed to be just as difficult, though his tracing of letters were perfectly clear.

  Gem wasn’t having much luck either. Canis learned how to do many chores around their camp. He did what he was told readily and to the best of his ability, even to the point of watching when someone showed him a better way, then using what he’d been shown. The biggest problem they constantly ran up against was the way he associated with the people around him. Though he was willing to do the work he was asked to do, he couldn’t be persuaded to take his eyes off of whoever was issuing the order long enough to bow an acknowledgment. In fact, he couldn’t be made to bow at all, not to anyone.

  They were half way to Louisville when one of the new guards took it upon himself to show Canis, and by association, Gem, that free men did get bowed to by the slaves in their presence. He had watched these two ever since Kansas and he couldn’t believe the slave master permitted such behavior from slaves, regardless of how young they were.

  He approached the two of them where they were clearing the ground for the camp. “You two,” he called. “We’re to collect firewood. Come with me.”

  “Yes, master,” said Gem with a graceful curtsy, but Canis’s tiny nod went u
nnoticed and unlooked for.

  With a blow that dropped Canis to the ground like a stone, he said, “Bow to your master, slave. I will not tolerate your insolent stare.”

  Canis was stunned both by the blow and by the ferocity behind it. He’d been struck before, but that had been by the men who had discovered him.

  Gem was a well-trained slave, and though she hated to see the boy struck, she made no sound or move against a free man – she had no right – and when the guard turned on her, because, obviously, Canis’s transgression was her responsibility, she made no move to avoid the heavy strap laid across her bowed back.

  Canis was not so well trained, though. When he saw the strap come down on Gem who had done nothing to deserve such a thing – not that he would have allowed it in any case – he sprang to her defense. He didn’t know what the mob had done with his mother. He hadn’t been able to protect her, but this was only one man, one man was no problem. With a snarl, he was off the ground and in the middle of the guard with a fury that had only been seen from him on the first day of his capture. The difference was, after more than two months of regular food and exercise he was strong and healthy.

  Surprise, as well as the very effective attack of a boy who was far stronger than he appeared, knocked the man to the ground where Canis continued his attack until the other guards finally got a hold on him and pulled him off. Then, except for breathing a little hard, he stood quietly and glowered at the man as he pulled himself to his feet.

  When the man was standing, his damage was visible for all to see. He had deep scratches on his face and neck, plus there was more than one wound that could only be bites. One took part of his ear, and some of the skin on his neck was obviously missing, a chunk of his chin was gone too. “You filthy little animal. I’ll kill you for this,” he said as he dabbed at some of the blood running down his front.