Elijah of Buxton (16 page)

Pa pulled his hat off and answered her. I pulled a face.

He wiped his forehead and said, “You still seeing 'em, son?”

I patted Old Flapjack's flank and kept my head pointed at Pa but I turned my eyes back to that big maple. There was still one half of a head peeking at us 'bout three feet off the ground. It was the boy.

“Yes, sir, one of 'em's still there.”

Pa said, “They's yon, Emma, by that biggest tree di-rect under the sun.”

Emma looked out of the corner of her eye and said, “I see the tree, Mr. Freeman,” and started off walking slow away from us.

When Mr. Frederick Douglass is speechifying he says that the second hardest step in making yourself free is the first one that you take. He says after you make up your mind and take the first step, most of the rest of 'em come pretty easy. But he says that the
most
hardest step to take is the very last one. He says that finally crossing over from slavery to freedom is the most horrifyingest, most bravest thing a slave will ever have to do. In my eyes it's odd that Emma Collins is the one who's best at carrying folks that last step into being free but, truth told, couldn't no one else do it near as good as her.

Ma says it's 'cause Emma's a lot like me, but she don't mean that in a good way, 'cause Emma caint chunk stones worth spit nor tend to animals so's they're happy like I can. And I ain't nowhere near as good as her in my studies and schoolwork. Ma means we're alike 'cause Emma's fra-gile too.

But she's a whole lot more fra-giler than I
ever
been, and whilst you'd have to study me real hard to see it, with Emma it's something that's plain and right out front. Fra-gile-ness is sitting on her bold as one n'em awful flowery church hats Ma and the other women wear on Sunday. But the fra-gile-ness does make it easy to tell that Emma don't mean no one no harm, and that makes the runaways more comforted once they see her.

Emma Collins didn't make no beeline for the big maple. She kind of zigged one way then zagged the 'nother, moving slow, but always ending up going in the direction of the tree.

It looked to be a whole lot of lollygagging and a walk that should've took 'bout a minute to make ended up taking a whole lot longer, but she knowed what she was doing. She bended over to pull up a yellow flower, acted like she was showing it to that terrorific doll, moved on a bit, squatted down to lift up a rock to see what was underneath, put the doll's face close to the ground so's it could get a good look too, moved on some more, twirled and spinned 'round a couple times, moved on a little more, brushed something off the doll's dress and, afore you could say how she did it, she'd wandered right up next to the big maple.

That was when she finally quit moving and looked dead at the tree. I knowed she was talking gentle to whoever it was that thought hadn't no one seen 'em.

She was too far off and talked too soft for me to hear but I knowed she was saying, “Hello, my name's Emma Collins. I'm the first girl who was born free in Buxton, and now you're free too. We're very pleased you are going to be our new neighbours. Come, everybody's waiting to meet you.”

Emma finished her speechifying and reached her right hand out toward the tree.

Didn't nothing move for the longest time, then, slow as can be, a man came out from behind the maple holding on to his hat. He talked a bit, pulled his hat back on, then dropped on one knee and reached his hand out to Emma.

Emma took ahold of his hand, he stood up, and she commenced walking the man right to us.

I said, “She's got him!” and Pa finally looked over and waved.

The man didn't return Pa's wave or nothing. One of his hands was holding on to Emma and the other one was behind his back. He was looking side to side and all 'round, seeming like he was 'bout to bolt if someone said, “Boo.”

When he was 'bout twenty paces from us the man turned Emma's hand a-loose, pulled off his hat, and called to Pa, “Pardon me, sir. The child right? This here really Buxton?”

“Morning. Yes, sir, it is, and y'all's really free!”

The man brung his hand from behind his back. He was clutching on to a long, shiny knife!

He looked at it then back at Pa and it seemed like he was fixing to cry.

He turned the knife so's he was hanging on to the blade and said, “I's terrible sorry 'bout this here dagger, sir, but …” He wiped at his eyes. “… but we's so tired of running, we's come so …” He couldn't talk no more.

Pa walked right up on him and wrapped his arms 'round the man and said, “Don't say nothing more, brother. I know. I know it ain't been easy but you found where you're supposed to be. You're home. You alone?”

The man said, “No, sir,” turned back toward the maple and whistled, then waved both his arms over his head.

A woman, a boy, and a girl, hanging on to one the 'nother's hands, stepped out of the woods and started heading slow toward us. They were walking low and their heads were ducking and shooting from side to side just like the man's had been. 'Stead of taking the di-rect way to us they skirted 'long the woods and the part of Mrs. Holton's land that Mr. Leroy'd already cleared.

The woman was toting a bundle tied to her back. I knowed it was a baby 'cause it was tied the same way all the Settlement women do when they're working and want to keep their children with 'em.

'Bout halfway 'cross they broke 'way from the tree line and started moving faster and faster through the clearing toward us. Their mouths were pulled wide open like they were fixing to scream, but didn't no sounds come from 'em. After a second they started running all out, acting like the Devil hisself was on their tail. Then they commenced making a sound that made my skin all twitch-ity with gooseflesh. It waren't like no human sound atall, it was a kinda wail and a moan and a yell all stirred up together. It was something terrible to hear.

The man throwed the knife down and ran out at 'em. They crashed one into the 'nother so hard you'd think they'd've knocked each other over, but they didn't. They stood all knotted together keeping up those horrible noises and holding on like there waren't no tomorrow. They acted like they hadn't seen one the 'nother in a hundred years 'stead of just a minute or two.

The little boy, who 'peared to be 'bout five years old, was blubbering and churning his legs up and down like he was still on the run but he waren't moving nowhere. He was running in one spot clutching on to his mother's and father's legs. It must have shooked him up bad to see his ma and pa crying and looking wild and carrying on like this 'cause all the sudden the front of his britches started getting covered with a dark stain. I had to turn my head so's not to shame him.

I looked over at Emma and, doggone-it-all, she was squeezing that awful doll and starting to pull her lip down and cloud her eyes up, getting ready to bawl right along with the new-free folks.

I'll be blanged if bawling ain't something akin to the measles or the chicken pox or the plague, once it grabs ahold of one fra-gile person, seems like it snatches on to every other fra-gile person that's anywhere near. I'd been working hard to fight it, but I didn't have no choice but to commence crying right along with Emma and n'em.

Pa and Cooter didn't try to shame me or nothing. Cooter looked at his shoes and Pa looked at me. His shoulders dropped some, and he allowed a long slow breath to come out of him. It looked a lot like disappointment, but at least he didn't say nothing.

The woman broke away from the others and ran hard at Pa, unwrapping the baby off her back and holding it out front of her.

She said, “Sir, my baby! My baby girl sick!”

She showed the baby to Pa and he said, “We got some nurses what'll tend your child, ma'am. How long she been ailing?”

The woman said, “She ain't woke up since yesterday morn. Two nights ago they was some paddy-rollers right on top of us. She always been a quiet child but since we been running she been likely to bawl, so I had to give her some of this else they'd've caught us for sure. I ain't had no choice, but I's 'fraid I give her too much!”

She pulled a brown tonic bottle out of her dress pocket.

Pa said, “She drawing breath strong. We gets lotsa young uns what's had too much sleep medicine, and all 'em done good after 'while.”

The man and the two children bunched up 'round the woman and the sleepy baby. Pa unharnessed the chains off of Old Flapjack and tied him to the stump we'd been pulling on.

Pa walked back over to the family and said the same thing we say to all the new-free folks when they first get to Buxton. It's the way we greet 'em into being free.

Pa pointed up and said, “Looky there! Look at that sky!”

I'd heard Pa and other growned folks say this plenty of times, but I couldn't help but follow where Pa's finger was pointing. Everybody did, we all looked up at the blue sky that didn't have cloud the first in it.

“Ain't that the grandest sky y'all ever seen?”

Pa smiled and pointed out 'cross the field. “Look at that land! Look at them trees! Has y'all ever seen anything that precious? It's the land of the free!”

The family kept following where Pa was pointing.

“Now look at you'selves! Look at 'em babies! Has y'all ever looked this beautiful? Today be the first day don't no one own y'all but y'all. Today be the first day that don't
no
one own them babies. Today be the first day you ain't got cause to blame no one for what gunn happen to you tomorrow. Today y'all's truly set you'selves free!”

Then he opened both his arms and said to the people, “And y'all choosed the most beautifullest, most perfectest day for doing it! Only thing I's got to ask is, what kept you?”

It was peculiar 'cause it didn't matter if it was raining or snowing or even if the sky was being ripped by lightning and thunder, we always would tell the new folks that it was the most beautifullest, most perfectest day to get free. Far as I can tell, the weather didn't have a whole lot to do with it.

Pa said, “Come on, we gunn go into the Settlement and let everyone know y'all made it. Cooter, Emma, Elijah, y'all come too. Leave the mule, we ain't gunn be long gone.”

Pa and Cooter and the new people started out toward the road.

Fra-gile-ness is mighty embarrassing, even if you're a girl, so me and Emma both hanged back a little to get the sniffling out of us. Emma set her doll and the little yellow flower on the stump and pulled out a 'kerchief to wipe her eyes and nose.

I've had it explained to me plenty of times, but I ain't never gonna understand the purpose of having a piece of cloth made just for blowing your nose into. Seems real dirty and nasty to me. Makes a whole lot more sense to me to plug up one of your nose holes and just blow what you gotta blow out of the other one onto the ground. Least that way you ain't constantly toting no dried-up things from your nose 'round in your pockets. But Ma's always telling me not to do that, 'specially 'round respectable folks.

Far as I can tell, Emma ain't the least bit respectable, but for Ma's sake, 'stead of blowing my nose onto the ground, I blowed it into my shirtsleeve.

Emma gave me a dirty look and I gave her one right back.

I remembered the knife that the man dropped and left in the field. I picked it up and ran to catch up with Pa and n'em.

I said, “Sir, you forgot this.”

I reached the knife at him. Him and the woman looked at one the 'nother and soured up their faces. He said, “Thank you, boy, but we's free now. I don't want to see that dagger never no more.”

I couldn't help but be surprised.

The man said to Pa, “Sir, I swored wasn't no one gunn take us back 'less it be over my dead body. I swored it and I proofed it wasn't no bluff, but now ain't no more need for that dagger, ain't no more need to be thinking 'bout the dirt what all over it. It sullied, it ain't clean.”

I looked at the knife. It looked like the blacksmith had just got done making it. I said, “But, sir, it looks like it's new, it ain't dirty atall, it looks like …”

Pa told me, “Elijah, put the knife in your tote sack, and be still.”

He said to the man, “Don't worry, sir, I'm-a take care of the knife.”

I hoped Pa was gonna tell me what this meant later, but I knowed by the way he'd done everything quick-like that I shouldn't say nothing more 'bout it for now. I took a rag out of my tote sack and wrapped the knife in it so's it wouldn't bang up 'gainst none of my chunking stones.

We started back up walking and Emma zigged and zagged her way up to the new-free girl. The little girl acted like Emma was a haint and hugged in closer to the boy with the wet trousers.

Emma smiled at the girl and tried to hand her the yellow flower she'd picked. The girl looked at the flower then at Emma but still held on to her brother. Then Emma stuck the flower down in that terrorific doll's apron and reached the two of 'em out to the new-free girl.

The girl kept gripping her brother with one hand but raised the other one slow to take the doll. Once she got ahold of it she hugged it into herself hard, staring at Emma.

Emma said, “Her name's Birdy. I suppose you can call her anything you want to, but she's always liked the name Birdy best. She's kind of shy so she wants me to ask if you'd mind being her new ma.”

The girl looked long and hard into the doll's brown eyes then smiled like she saw something there 'sides a couple of buttons and some thread. She shooked her head up and down and moved her mouth like she was saying, “Thank you, ma'am.”

Emma smiled and said, “You're welcome.”

I might've said something welcoming to the boy, but I'd learnt from it happening to me personal that if you wet your pants in front of a bunch of strangers, you don't really want no one talking to you. You don't want no one asking why you're walking stiff-legged or doing
nothing
that will draw no attention to yourself. My keeping quiet waren't from being ignorant and unwelcoming, it was done so's not to shame him. 'Sides, after he got done walking all the way to the Settlement with that pee chafing 'round in his pants rubbing him raw, he waren't gonna want to talk atall!