A Picture of Freedom

by Patricia C. McKissack

  Women from the Quarters been up in the kitchen to help Eva Mae with the early cooking and cleaning. I helped put the big rug out of the large parlor and beat all the dust out of it. I got to coughing and couldn’t stop. Aunt Tee made me some syrup out of honey and herbs and I finally stopped.

  Later

  When I went to the stables to take Hince a plate of food, Mr. Harms pulled me aside. I almost screamed, thinking it was that nasty Waith.

  “Got news,” he say. “Those runaways aren’t dead. They just tell you runaways are dead, so you’ll be afraid to run.”

  “Does that mean Rufus and Aggie?” I was so hoping. But Mr. Harms say, no they didn’t make it. Rufus wasn’t willing to trust the Underground Railroad plan. “He never quite b’lieved that a southern man could be as against slavery as I am. But there are plenty of us.” Rufus had tried to make it on his own.

  “Some runaways make it alone,” Mr. Harms s’plained. “They need help most times. Lots of help. I tried to help Rufus — talked to him several times when I heard he was planning a run. Rufus never really trusted me.”

  What happened to Rufus and his family should never happen to another family. One of them might have made it if they could swim. Mas’ Henley won’t let us learn how to swim, because he knows, if we stay stupid he can keep us. Come spring, I’m learning how to swim — just in case I ever need to know how.

  I forgot to tell Mr. Harms about the lie I told Waith to save Spicy. I’ve got to remember.

  Friday, December 16, 1859

  Rained all day — a slow cold rain. Miserable. I sat with William in his room for a while. We played with Shadow. I pumped his legs, up and down, up and down, keeping them moving. Sadly, the hot water treatments aine helped more than to get a few toes a-going. The rest of him is still the same — nothing near walking. He’s in mighty good spirits though — giggling all the time. Maybe it’s the Big Times that’s making him so happy. Dr. Lamb visited yesterday. Stayed for dinner. Company — even company as nice as Dr. Lamb, always means more work for us in the kitchen.

  Saturday, December 17, 1859

  Mr. Harms still treats me like I’m not there when others be around us.

  He left me a copy of The Liberator, put out by a abolitionist named William Lloyd Garrison from the Boston. I read the pages to Aunt Tee and Spicy. They listened to every word — stories about black abolitionists.

  I read about a woman named Sojourner Truth, who speaks out against slavery everywhere she goes. Even when the mas’ers say they gon’ stone her to death, she keeps a-talking. Aine scared of nothing, because she’s telling the truth. “Slavery must be destroyed — root and branch!”

  I am so glad to know about Miz Sojourner. I mean to be like her one day. Maybe even meet her when I get to freedom. Maybe we could be abolitionists together. Demagine that. But will I be brave like the shepherd boy, David? If I was with Miz Sojourner, she’d help me be strong — and we can end slavery, too.

  Sunday, December 18, 1859

  Waith works the people in the Quarters like dogs, won’t let up on them a minute — push, work, driving night and day — painting, chopping winter wood, feeding the livestock, on and on. He’s constantly yelling and screaming, and lashing that whip. I’d like to wrap it around his neck and give it a good yank! The more he yells the more Mas’ Henley and the Missus feel they’re getting their money’s worth.

  Monday, December 19, 1859

  It snowed today, not enough to cover the ground.

  William sat by the window and longed to play once more in the snow.

  “You’re different, Clotee,” William say matter-of-fact-like. Lord, now William is noticing me. Who next?

  I made on like I didn’t know what he was talking about. He say, “You don’t sound like the other slaves. You say talking instead of talkin’. You say I am instead of I is. You say they were instead of they was — and things like that. You talk almost as good as a white person. Why is that?”

  I shrugged my shoulders and got out of there as quick as I could. Missy was always teasing me about talking proper. Miz Lilly had spoke about it, too, and now William. Was my learning to be my undoing? I must be particular to write but not talk too proper. I could get myself into trouble.

  Tuesday, December 20, 1859

  Five days to the Big Times.

  Two men by the name of Campbelle came to Belmont today. They stayed for supper. The older Campbelle is gray-haired with a matching mustache, stocky, but well-dressed. The son is taller, thinner. The Campbelles are horsemen from Tennessee, same as Mas’ Henley.

  While serving biscuits and coffee, I turned to listening. I’m piecing it all together so I can write it down.

  “We’ve been watching you for some time,” said Silas Campbelle, the older man. “We like the way your boy rides.”

  “I got the best jockey in Virginia right here at Belmont,” Mas’ Henley bragged.

  “He’d be great if he had a fair mount,” said Amos Campbelle, the son. “We’ve got the right horse. We need your jockey.”

  “What’s your offer?”

  “We’d like to buy Hince.”

  My heart sank! I almost dropped the plate of dessert tea cakes, but I caught them before they all slide off the tray and on the floor. The men were too fixed on what they were saying to pay attention to me.

  “No deal,” Mas’ Henley answered. “But, I’ll make this bet. My jockey against your horse. I lose, you take Hince. I win, I take your horse.”

  “Set the date?”

  “New Year’s Day.”

  Later

  Hince was shocked when I told him what I’d overheard.

  “So Mas’ Henley done bet on me ’gainst the Campbelles’ horse?” He shrugged and went back to rubbing Can. Is that all Mas’ Henley thought of Hince — to bet him against a horse?

  “S’pose you lose?” I asked.

  Hince talked brave. “I won’t lose. Big Can is a good horse, nobody really knows how good. Mas’ Henley musta planned this all along. That’s why he been having me hold back a little, winning without ever letting Can stretch out. That’s gon’ be our edge on the Campbelles.”

  Once he put voice to those words Hince didn’t seem worried. All I pray for is for him to be right. So does Aunt Tee and most especially Spicy. Hince can’t lose.

  Thursday, December 22, 1859

  We all gathered on the porch to see the Christmas tree lights. The tree didn’t look as pretty to me as it used to. Maybe Waith being here has spoiled the Big Times for us all.

  As hard as everybody done worked to get the place ready for the holidays, Briley Waith went to Mas’ Henley and tried to get our off-days cut short. I heard him say with all the runaways happening, he thinks we should be kept bent over working so we can’t take time to study up on freedom.

  Thank goodness, Mas’ Henley had sense enough to realize that he’d have a r’bellion on his hands if he didn’t give us the days off between Christmas and New Year’s.

  “Tell you what, though,” he told Waith. “I won’t give out any travel passes this year. That ought to cut back on any runaway attempts. Thank you for thinking ahead, Waith. You’re a good man.”

  I just wrote M-E-A-N in the ashes. Mean. The picture of Waith is clear in my head. This is going to be a sad, sad Christmas for folks who were hoping for passes to visit their loved ones on nearby plantations.

  Saturday, December 24, 1859 — Christmas Eve

  Been so busy, I aine had a chance to write in a few days. Everything is ready for the Big Times — in the Big House and down here in the Quarters. Even the weather is on our side. If it stays warm like it is today, we’ll get to eat our dinner outside.

  Everybody is home for the holidays. Mr. Harms stayed here, rather than go to his home. Clarissa and her husband are here from Richmond. The tree is up, the stockings are hung, and we’ve got the cream ready for Mas’ Henley’s famous eggnog.

  The Missus led the family in singing carols. As soon as I could slip away, I joine
d Aunt Tee and Spicy in the stables. That’s where the folks from the Quarters were having their Christmas Eve dance. All under the watchful eyes of Waith, the overseer.

  Aunt Tee served him a glass of danderlion wine. Waith drank it and ate a big plate of pickled pig feet, a roasted sweet potato, and ashcake. Aunt Tee winked at Spicy and me, because she had put a potion in his drink.

  ’Fore long, we looked for Waith. He was curled up like a fat snake, sound asleep. Slept through the whole party. He never guessed what had made him so sleepy. Thank goodness for Aunt Tee’s potions — and the Afric woman that gave her the recipe.

  Sunday, December 25, 1859 — Christmas Day

  It is Christmas — all day. “Christmas gif’,” we all shouted outside Mas’ Henley’s window first thing this morning. After the families from the Quarters came to the Big House to greet the family and get their gifts, they hurried back to the Quarters to begin their Week of Sundays. Us who work in the kitchen had to work all day — fetching and toting, wiping and cleaning.

  Missy saw another side of Miz Lilly today. Missy was moving slow-like and whining about having to work on Christmas. All at once Miz Lilly popped Missy right upside the head. It hurt Missy’s heart that I saw her get slapped.

  I had Aunt Tee and Spicy bent over laughing, when I told her how Missy looked — eyes all bucked, mouth poked out — what a sight. She had it coming after what she did to Hince.

  Later

  Everybody in the Big House is happy because William stood up on his own today. I felt good seeing him standing up all by hisself, too. So that’s why he’s been all happy. He knew about this. Mr. Harms got lots of praise. Even Miz Lilly had to ’fess that Mr. Harms had helped her son stand. He’ll be taking a few steps any day now.

  I feel happy for William. I’d helped William come this far, too. I’d rubbed his legs and toes and sat with him when he was lonely. Nobody knew what I’d done — but I knew and that made me feel well within myself.

  Monday, December 26, 1859

  Today begins the first day of the Big Times. No work for the field hands. For us in the kitchen double work — more toting, fetching. Yesterday after we had served the big meal for the Henleys and cleaned up, we went down to the barn where there was a gathering going on.

  Aunt Tee had made a cake from stuff I’d been sneaking out of the kitchen for weeks. All the elder folk stood to one side as judges. Somebody started patting the juba, clapping the tune. Then came the couples, strutting the cakewalk. Hince and Spicy come out first — high-stepping and kicking their heels. They were wearing matching shirts that Aunt Tee had made from the cloth Miz Lilly handed out. Everybody had to say they were a fine-looking couple. But they could also dance.

  I had on my dress that Mama had made and the ribbon that Hince had brought me. Missy had on one of Clarissa’s dresses, too. But mine was better — because Mama had made mine.

  Aunt Tee ’llowed that I could dance the cakewalk this year with a boy other than Hince. Me and Buddy Barnes, Miz Clarissa’s carriage driver, stepped together. He swung me up and swung me down — from side to side and up the middle.

  “You look mighty nice, Clotee,” Buddy Barnes said. My face turned hot and my head topped light — as light as my feet felt dancing with Buddy Barnes. As long as I live I will never, ever forget dancing with Buddy Barnes — even though Spicy and Hince were the cakewalk winners. They each took a slice of the cake for themselves, then they let everybody else have a bite.

  Of course Missy was a sore loser — but she only makes herself look bad — keep pushing, pushing. Everybody knows how Spicy and Hince feel about each other. Missy should just give up.

  Friday, December 30, 1859

  The Week of Sundays has gone so fast. Like most holidays it’s been filled with work — up the stairs, down the stairs. Bring me this, Clotee. Take that there, Clotee. Clotee. Clotee. I wish I could change my name. It is always late when we finish. Eva Mae was so tired this evening, she just fell fast asleep up in the attic. I eased out of the kitchen without waking her.

  Saturday, December 31, 1859 — New Year’s Eve

  In the Big House all the talk is about the race tomorrow. The Campbelles are here with their horse and rider. Their horse looks like a real champion — named Betty’s Son. The rider is the size of a boy, but he has a lot of years in his face. I heard one of the Campbelles call him Josh.

  Later

  The Campbelles brought along three of their slaves who stayed in the stables with Hince. They also made good dance partners for us. Missy took one look at the young man named Booker and claimed him for the rest of the evening. Aunt Tee called her a shameless hussy. I danced with the one named Obie. He was fun and had a happy laugh, but he wasn’t near as good a dancer as Buddy Barnes. The one named Shad seemed shy — didn’t dance, didn’t talk. He left before the party ended.

  After one of the dances the straw in the barn started me to sneeze. It always makes me sneeze and cough. Aunt Tee took me outside to get some fresh air — and sent me to the cabin to get some cough syrup. When I passed the stables, I saw Shad standing at Big Can’s stall.

  Sunday, January 1, 1860 — New Year’s Day

  My God. Hince lost the race!

  As best I can tell, this is what happened.

  This morning it was bright and sunny, but cold — not a cloud in the sky. The course was from Belmont’s front steps down to the road and back, past the Big House, down to the river and back again — about a half mile.

  Carriages full of people began gathering on the grounds all morning. Hundreds were here by mid-morning. A few minutes before noon, Hince walked Can up from the stables. I could tell something was wrong with the horse. Can looked spooked, jumpy, hard to handle. I caught a look of worry in Hince’s face. That spooked me.

  At exactly noon, the gun fired and Can reared up, losing time that he was never able to catch up. The other horse won! We all were too shocked to believe what our eyes had seen. Hince wasn’t supposed to lose.

  Right away, Hince commenced to hollering that Can had been drugged. He was right. And I knew who had done it. Shad! “I seen him at Big Can’s stall last night.” I went running to Mas’ Henley, all the time pointing a finger at Shad. He glared at me. “Please save Hince,” I begged. “Shad did something to Can, I know he did. I seen him, honest!”

  “I seen him, too,” said Aunt Tee. “Left the dance early last night.” Shad didn’t say anything. The Campbelles stayed calm.

  Everybody started talking to one another, whispering about what had happened during the race. The Campbelles called for several men — all good horsemen to check out Big Can. Rouse Mosby and Len Beans checked out Can. They said there were no signs of the horse being drugged. Were they blind? Can wasn’t acting hisself. Anybody could see that — who wanted to see it.

  The next few seconds were like hours. The Campbelles claimed that the race was fair and they had won the bet. The crowd agreed and sent up a cheer.

  “You’ve cheated me, Amos Campbelle — you have, but I can’t prove it,” Mas’ Henley said real angry-like. Then he ordered them off his property.

  The Campbelles tipped their hats and said they had other business in the area before going home. Say they’ll be coming in several weeks to pick up Hince.

  “Please do something, Miz Lilly,” I begged her. “I saw Shad in the barn doing something to Can. He did. Please help Hince. Please don’t let them take him away. Please.”

  Miz Lilly snatched me by the arm and pushed me toward the house. “Hush all that crying, before I give you something to cry for. You’ll say anything to save Hince.” Through my tears I could see her mean eyes, and I knew she wasn’t about to help Hince. She was happy to be rid of him. It’s hard trying not to hate Miz Lilly — but I do hate the cruelness that lives inside her.

  Later

  Hince been like a wild man — walking, walking, never stopping. Say he aine going with the Campbelles. Spicy been crying all day, limp with crying. “I hope Hince don’t try nothin
g foolish like running away,” say Aunt Tee. I hope not either. I got to do some thing, but what? What good is know-how if you can’t use it when you need it. I got reading and writing, but it can’t help Hince. I feel like my head is in the big mouth of the lion, but I’ve got to be like Daniel. Be not afraid.

  Thursday, January 5, 1860

  It finally happened! Mr. Harms done been found out. Hince tattled. How did he know?

  Later

  We’re all here at Aunt Tee’s cabin. I’m trying to write down all that’s been going on, so we’ll never disremember.

  Spicy told Hince about me, Mr. Harms, the one-eyed man, the abolitionists — everything. She asked me to forgive her. “I trusted Hince. I didn’t know he was gon’ tell on po’ Mr. Harms.”

  I wouldn’t a-counted Hince ’mongst the tattlers either. It breaks my heart that he has.

  Would he tell on me if he got scared enough?

  Still later

  Hince came to Aunt Tee’s cabin after the last meal, when he knew all of us would be here. “I aine going to the Deep South with the Campbelles. Why should I care about a white man? It’s his life or mine.” Them words didn’t sound like Hince. He must be plenty scared. I would be — having to go to the Deep South.

  Aunt Tee never stopped stirring the pot. She spoke. “Going to freedom this way would be a bitter road. Mr. Harms may be white but he come here to help the likes of us. Wrong for one of us to be the cause of his undoing.”