A Picture of Freedom

by Patricia C. McKissack

  “What am I s’posed to do?”

  “You’ve got to make this thing right, somehow.” Then with pleading in her voice, Aunt Tee went on saying, “Oh, son, if you gets to freedom, don’t let it be on a river of innocent blood — or you’ll sour yo’ heart and soul.”

  Hince dropped his head. “I aine going to the Deep South and that’s all there is to it. I’m purely sorry ’bout Mr. Harms, but it’s him or me, and right now, I got to look out after me.” He looked at Spicy. She didn’t say nothing.

  I stood with Aunt Tee. “Mr. Harms could have turned me in to win favor with Miz Lilly and Mas’ Henley. He never did. I owe him something. I’m gon’ try to help.”

  Now that I’ve studied on it a spell, I can’t shake a stick at Hince without it pointing back at me. I told on Shad when I thought it would save Hince. And I didn’t care. Now Hince done used what he knew to bargain with Mas’ Henley for his freedom. He aine about to go to the Deep South. I understand wanting to be free, but telling on Mr. Harms aine the way to do it — it just aine right.

  Right now I feel like we’re the Israelites standing at the Red Sea. Pharaoh’s army is coming in chariots. Our backs are to the water. Mr. Harms is tied up in the study waiting for the sheriff to come. What we need is for God to push back the waters so we can cross over on dry land. We need a plan.

  Friday, January 6, 1860

  We’ve got a plan that might save Mr. Harms. It may or may not work, but we’ve got to try to save him. We can’t just let him die. God, please help us like you did the three boys in the fiery furnace.

  Saturday, January 7, 1860

  I’m still shaking from the cold and fear. It snowed all night, so the sheriff didn’t get here until this afternoon. This is what happened.

  The sheriff and Waith came to the Big House. Spicy and me slipped in the side door and hid in the pantry where we could see and hear everything that was going on in the large parlor of the Big House. If Mr. Harms was afraid, he didn’t show it. He looked as strange and out of order as he did the first day I laid eyes on him — not at all like the picture of a brave and daring abolitionist.

  Just like we’d planned it back at the cabin — Hince said that he had seen Mr. Harms talking to the one-eyed man down by the river. “The same one-eyed man who’s been helping slaves get away.” Hince did a fine job.

  Mr. Harms said none of it was true. “I don’t know a one-eyed man.” That was good. We ’spected he’d say that.

  Then it was time for Spicy to come in. She was so nervous, I had to push her two times. But she burst into the room, screaming, “Oh, please, Mas’ Henley, don’t hurt Mr. Harms. He aine done nothing wrong. Hince be just lying ’cause he’s jealous — jealous of me … and Mr. Harms. Tell ’em, Hince. Tell ’em.” Spicy was even better than when we practiced it in the cabin. I prayed Mr. Harms would catch on to what we were doing. I had never gotten around to telling him what I’d told Waith about him and Spicy.

  “No, I’m the one telling the truth,” Hince say, right on time.

  The room fell quiet. Mas’ Henley’s mouth fell open. You could have pushed Miz Lilly over with a broom straw.

  “Here at Belmont? I’m so ashamed,” she say, heaving a big sigh. Mr. Harms stood still and quiet.

  The sheriff shifted around from foot to foot. “We got two nigras with two different stories. How do we get at the truth. Have you and this gal been together?”

  Mr. Harms wouldn’t answer. Waith leaned over to Mas’ Henley. “Well, I heard that Harms had picked that one out for hisself.” This part was going just as we had hoped. What happened next took me by surprise.

  “Spicy is telling the truth,” William shouted from the doorway. “I’ve seen her go into Mr. Harms’s room many times. I also heard Spicy and Hince having a fight in the stables. Maybe Hince is jealous and isn’t telling the truth.”

  That was all we needed — two white men’s word — no matter if one was a boy. The sheriff untied Mr. Harms, saying he would not take Mr.

  Harms — not enough evidence.

  Now it was my time to heave a sigh. We’d done it! We’d saved Mr. Harms. I felt just like we’d killed Goliath.

  Later

  When the sheriff was gone, Mas’ Henley slapped Spicy so hard she fell and slid across the room, bumping her head ’gainst the wall. I think Spicy is the bravest person in the whole wide world for doing what she did. She’s braver than Sojourner Truth and all the abolitionists rolled together. Spicy knew she was probably going to get punished in a bad way, but she was willing to go under the lash to save Mr. Harms’s life. I saw Hince close his eyes and clench his fists. He was at that jumping over spot. I was praying that he wouldn’t jump over.

  See, I remember when Mr. Barclay’s Kip crossed over. He went wild on his mas’er, took the whip away and beat his own mas’er with it. They hung Kip, but he died smiling. Sometimes, I guess people get tired of being hit on, beat on, mistreated. I reckon people get tired of seeing they loved ones smacked in the face — half fed — worked near ’bout to death. I saw Hince come mighty close to that jumping over spot, when Mas’ Henley hit Spicy that hard. But he held hisself, because the plan was working.

  Mr. Harms didn’t make a move. He hardly looked like he was breathing. I don’t think I was breathing, either.

  “What kind of southern-born man are you?” Mas’ Henley asked, spitting out the angry words. “You come in my house and use one of my girls, and then turn around and rob me of my property? Steal my property away on some blasted Underground Railroad?”

  “I am a tutor, sir —”

  “No. No,” Mas’ say, cutting in. “I believe Hince told me the truth.”

  That’s what I was waiting to hear. Now I could breathe.

  “You know how I know? Hince doesn’t want to leave Belmont — his only home. You abolitionists don’t understand and you never will. Our slaves love us. They run away when you people come down here exciting them about freedom — freedom to do what? They are like children — unable to do for themselves.”

  Hince and Mr. Harms wisely said nothing. They let Mas’ Henley rattle on, fooling himself into b’lieving we slaves was happy to be slaves.

  Then Miz Lilly stood up. “You helped my son. That’s why I stopped my husband from killing you. So, the best thing for you to do, sir, is get off Belmont and before I reconsider.” Then Miz Lilly swished away.

  So far our plan had worked — all of it.

  Late Saturday night

  William and I were the only ones standing on the porch — cold, but huddled together, watching Mr. Harms load his buggy. All three of us knew that William had lied to save Mr. Harms. He had not seen Spicy, because she had never been to Mr. Harms’s room. He had not seen Hince and Spicy fussing because they had never had a fuss. William knows that I know he lied — but we will never speak of it, I’m sure.

  It’s natural-like for William to be sad. Mr. Harms was above all else a very good teacher. Waith stood by a pile of books in the drive. He pointed the shotgun at Mr. Harms’s head while the teacher climbed into the buggy. “Please, may I have my books. Why burn them?”

  Upon a signal from Mas’ Henley, Waith lit a match and the tutor’s books went up in flames. At the same time, Waith slapped the horse, and the buggy lurched forward, down the drive. It was a strange sight, not unlike the first day I’d seen Mr. Harms, coming up the drive of Belmont. I was sorry to see him go, but happy he was alive to go.

  Sunday, January 8, 1860

  Aunt Tee made me tell her what happened at least ten times. Each time when we get to the part about Spicy being hit, she says, “Bless you, chile.” Spicy’s eye’s swollen, but Aunt Tee is taking care of her.

  “How do you get brave?” I asked Spicy.

  “I hope I was as brave as you are smart. It was your idea. All I did was do what you told me to do — even though I was scared to death the whole time.”

  Later

  Missy can’t stop talking about what a bad girl Spicy is. “Hince won
’t want a girl like that.” If Missy only knew.

  Monday, January 9, 1860

  There is no cold like January cold. It goes through to the bone. No fire is hot enough to warm the January chills. That’s what the field hands spend their time doing in January — looking for something to eat and a warm place to eat it. Most of the little children in the Quarters don’t have shoes or warm clothes. Mothers come to Aunt Tee’s cabin to get salves and root potions. I been working hard in the kitchen and the Big House, slipping out food a-plenty.

  Tuesday, January 10, 1860

  Miz Lilly called me to her room today. Jumped right on me — talking about why I didn’t tell her about Spicy and Mr. Harms.

  “I didn’t know.”

  She took my shoulders in each hand. Then she sighed. “Clotee, you could be my pet, my favorite, if you let me. You’re so bright and pretty just like your mama. Did you know, we were best friends? — always laughing and laughing, like silly girls do. Then we got all grown-up…. She made the most lovely gowns for me and my sisters.”

  “Then you let her go.” God, help me to keep my mouth.

  Miz Lilly eyed me hard. “Go on now, get out of here,” she said. “You’re useless.”

  Wednesday, January 11, 1860

  True to his word, Mas’ Henley freed Hince today. I sneaked paper out of the study while dusting a while back. So, I’ve made a copy of the way a free paper is made up, and I got a copy of Mas’ Henley’s sign’ture. Hince can’t leave though, because Mas’ Henley say the papers have to be took to the courthouse.

  Sunday

  Now that Mr. Harms is gone and we don’t have no more study time, I don’t know what the date is. But today is Sunday.

  Missy done made sure everybody in the Quarters thinks Spicy is a bad girl. Hince staying his distance for a spell. As long as Hince and Spicy know the truth, that’s all that matters.

  Aunt Tee’s pot is mighty low. Not enough to make a meal for us, never mind anybody else. Still she tries. Sharing what we got. “This plantation makes us all kin,” she say. “Not by blood, but by suffering.”

  January cold

  My fingers are cold. My feet are cold. My nose is cold. I cough all the time. My head hurts. This is the coldest winter of my life. I stay by the fire, but I’m never warm.

  In the room over the kitchen it was always warm and comfortable. I sleep in a fit and wake up tired. I will speak to Miz Lilly about getting some of the old blankets in the upstairs room of the Big House.

  Everybody gathered around Aunt Tee tonight. They seem to find hope in her spirit to keep going. Somebody sang —

  Rabbits in the briar patch,

  Squirrel in the tree,

  Wish I could go hunting

  But I ain’t free.

  Rooster’s in the henhouse

  Hen’s in the patch,

  Love to go shooting

  But I ain’t free.

  “We going to eat tomorrow,” say Aunt Tee. “Don’t you worry.”

  Next day

  Most times Miz Lilly is cold and mean. Today, she found a little kind piece hidden away in a pocket of her heart. I told her how bad it was in the Quarters. “It has been a bad winter.” She let us take quilts and shirts and shoes down to the Quarters. Boxes of stuff. It was like the Big Times all over again.

  While Miz Lilly was busy helping me in the attic, Aunt Tee slipped and rung the necks of two hens and had them in the pot with dumplings before anybody could say “how-do you do.” Aunt Tee was good on her word. We ate good tonight.

  Day or so later

  My head hurts. My arms and legs hurt. Even my teeth hurt. I can’t write any more.

  Early February

  I don’t know what day of the week it is. They tell me I’ve been sick with a awful fever. Aunt Tee and Spicy used teas and salves — but it was Mama’s love that pulled me through.

  Whilst I was in a fever, dreaming, Mama come to me all soft and gentle. “Get well, daughter. Live and grow strong.” Then she told me something that’s really got me studying on the meaning. She say something Rufus used to always say, “To the one God gives much, much is asked in return.” Then I saw Rufus standing with Mama. He say, “You have been given much, Clotee. You can read and write, when others can’t. Now, you must put your learning to good use. Use your learning.”

  Use it to do what?

  Week later

  I’m feeling better every day. Still wobbley. I’m back working in the kitchen and Big House.

  After the dishes were done from the midday meal, I walked to the woods. It’s not nearly as cold as it has been. Most of the snow is melted. I passed the cemetery and spent a minute with Uncle Heb, and I remembered Rufus and Aggie, Wook, and Baby Noah who never got a chance to live. Then I moved down toward the river.

  I wrote F-R-E-E-D-O-M in the mud. It still has no picture. Maybe my dream meant that I should run to freedom up in the Philadelphia, the New York, or the Boston, and then use my reading and writing to help the abolitionists. Is that what I should do, Mama? How would I run away?

  Monday

  I know it’s Monday because Miz Lilly come to the kitchen to pass out the flour, sugar, and meal. She gave Missy a pretty scarf to wear on her head. Then she swished past me with her head in the air. Suddenly I got an understanding. Miz Lilly is like a spoiled, silly girl — playing silly games with people’s lives. She’s like a little girl in a big woman’s body. Pitiful.

  Tuesday

  It’s a winter thaw. Day was almost warm. But Aunt Tee say it’s a fooler. I wandered down to the spot where I had seen Mr. Harms talking to the one-eyed man. No reason. Just did.

  I heard the crackle of leaves underfoot. I stopped, stood dead still, listening, waiting — for what I didn’t know.

  “Clotee. Over here. It’s me, Mr. Harms.”

  I was sure glad to see Mr. Harms and I told him so. He wondered why I had come to that place just then. “I don’t know, sir. I just came.” I’ll always b’lieve Mama guided me there. “I thought you would be in the Boston by now,” I said.

  “No,” he said, laughing. “But this is my last run. My partner and I are too well-known in the Tidewater. I’ll move on after we take the next group out.”

  “Who will be the conductor here at Belmont?” I asked him.

  “We won’t have a conductor here. That’s too bad. Belmont is an important link in the railroad.”

  The abolitionists will find someone, won’t they?

  I pulled myself tall. “Sir, I want to go with you to freedom. I’ll work hard and help the abolitionists in any way I can. Please say I can come.”

  “Clotee, you don’t have to beg. Of course you can come. Be here on the next dark of the moon. Bring fresh water but travel light — bring only what you need. It is a dangerous journey, Clotee. But you are no stranger to danger. You are a remarkable girl, and we abolitionists will be proud to have you in our ranks.”

  Mr. Harms hugged me. “Take care, little Clotee. Thank Spicy for what she did. I have a feeling you were in on it, too.” I nodded. “Tell Hince I hold no hard feelings. In his shoes I might have done the same thing.” Then, “If possible, find some way to say thank you to William.”

  Wednesday

  I’ve told Aunt Tee and Spicy about seeing Mr. Harms and how he was planning another runaway on the next dark of the moon. But as hard as I try, I can’t get Aunt Tee to go with me. Spicy wants to go, though, because Hince is going to be leaving soon as his papers clear.

  “I’m too old, chile,” say Aunt Tee. “Besides, I can’t leave Uncle Heb. I lived with him. I’ll be buried ’side of him, too. But you go on, honey. Go to that freedom here on earth.”

  Going without Aunt Tee? That would be like losing Mama again.

  Next day

  The Campbelles came to Belmont on their way back to the Deep South. “We’ve come for our property,” said Silas Campbelle.

  “He’s a free man,” said Mas’ Henley.

  I must have polished all the bra
ss off the mas’er’s doorknob trying to hear what was being said.

  “You had no right to sell what didn’t belong to you.”

  “Take me to court,” said Mas’ Henley.

  “We’ll do just that,” said the Campbelles and they stormed out of the house.

  Now what do we do?

  Monday again

  Since Mr. Harms got run away, Miz Lilly been trying to teach William so he can get into Overton School. Unteach is better to say. William won’t have none of it. He gets about nicely with two canes. Pretty soon, he’ll be walking without them.

  When William saw me watching from the hallway, he waved. Later, I stopped by his room. He was playing with Shadow.

  “If Mr. Harms had had time, he would have said thank you,” I said.

  “I’m sure he would have,” said William.

  I think the message got through.

  Week later

  I write this with a heavy heart. The judge ruled that Hince was not free because he didn’t b’long to Mas’ Henley when he freed him. “The free papers he wrote aine worth a lame horse.”

  The Campbelles are coming to get Hince Monday-week on their way back south. I’ve cried dry. Aunt Tee and Spicy have, too. We got to stop crying and start thinking.