Flight of Fancy: Cora's Daughters (6 page)

That was totally out of the question.

If she found a lone rider, she could kill him and take his horse, no one would then know it was stolen.

As much as she disliked these men, she couldn’t bring herself to kill an innocent one - that was not the kind of spirit that moved her. Otherwise, she could have killed the big man at the lake and taken his horse.

That thought, brought that particular man back to her mind, he was strange.

He’d given her not a second thought – how unlikely that was – she had been expecting him to attack her, try to rape her. She believed that it was what most of them did – surely they were all that way – except for black men.

Yet, the big man had merely spoken to her and then, ignored her. He was a mystery – he was different. She was a negro, he was white, why didn’t he ask her why she was running about all by herself? Why didn’t he ask her name? It just didn’t make sense but she’d spent enough time trying to understand it. Once more, dismissing him from her mind, Asiza maintained her pace through the forest. She knew to stay parallel to the gurgling brook – her speed one of purpose – her flight silent and smooth. She must keep moving northbound towards Virginia until she came across a horse to make her own.

Days went by, and with each new day, she realized she was going to have to steal a horse. She’d watched a herd of wild mares with a stallion in their midst, but the odds of catching one were stacked against her. Trying to get one of them could get her seriously injured if not killed. So now, her options were to steal from one of the tribes, or steal from the white man?

The choice of either could cost her life or freedom.

She searched out a settlement, one where she would have to take the time to watch it, and choose a horse for herself. Following that, she would need the perfect time and method to steal it without bringing those from the settlement after her.

It was a few more days of running, searching, watching and hoping that a solution practically walked up to her.

To her amazement – while sitting perched high in a tree, watching a small community with horses here and there, she looked down to see a lone man, riding his horse at a slow pace. He was barely able to keep his seat from all the swaying to and fro, side to side, to jerk upright and kick his legs.

Watching, Asiza realized – he was full of spirits.

The horse that he rode, barely took steps forward before stopping to graze.

It was only when the man roused enough to drunkenly spur it forward, slurring, “G’aw now – go girl,” that the horse slowly moved again, taking a few steps to stop once more.

Asiza actually giggled.

She felt blessed with an easy solution.

She’d simply hung upside down from her tree, and gently pushed the man off of his horse. He’d been too drunk to get up, let alone climb back on. After a few moments of struggling - he’d leaned back against the tree and was off to sleep, snoring loud enough to wake the dead.

Riding along, Asiza smiled, “Now this, betta’.” Asiza couldn’t believe her good fortune at being in the right place, at the right time. As for the horse, she was young, healthy and of sound stock. A gorgeous bay that had probably had a few owners, Asiza decided – she would be treating her with the utmost respect and if her blessings continued, she would be the last owner. Sitting tall in the saddle, she rode steady – keeping to the forest away from the main trails or roads. Finally, she was on her way to Clover Grove plantation – she couldn’t wait to see the look on her mother’s face when she showed up back there.

Traveling alone with just a horse, gave Asiza many things to think about. For instance, due to being human, she did fantasize about a life of normality. One that entailed having a man to love despite her lack of trust in them – she could remember being attracted to only one male in her life and that one had experienced a death found in nightmares. Because of what she knew about life and being black, she figured any fantasy was just that, nothing that would ever come true, especially because of the way that she was. Besides, she’d killed white men – at some point all that she’d done would catch up with her, that’s what she figured and her life would be over.

That’s why she wanted to see her mother again, Suga again – they were her only loves – there could be nothing more for her. So while she had lapses from focusing on survival she knew not to hope for anything more than what she had at the present and that was her freedom – as for how long, God only knew.

Virginia

Clover Grove plantation

She was killing again.

Broc exhaled after finding a dead overseer, who had died at the edge of a cotton field. There was a hole in his chest, he knew that it had been by an arrow that was no longer there. It appeared she was retrieving her arrows if she could.

He looked up to see a number of slaves running – they froze upon seeing him. When he made no threatening move towards them, they started up running once more – more women and little girls than men slaves. He didn’t need many clues as to why they were suddenly running free. Looking down at the dead overseer, it was clear.

Moving further onto the plantation, he found another dead overseer – and further on, two closer together, dead… holes in the back and one to the neck. He finally reached the cabins to find an overseer with his throat slit - in the midst of it, slaves were running off – once more, women and a few men.

Trotting towards the big house, he was close to the mansion when the blood curdling screams finally reached his ears. He rushed in that direction – meeting more slaves again who stopped and stared in fear for him to finally speak to them, “Run – go – I mean you no harm.” They took off once more, needing nothing more to be said.

Finally, quietly, Broc crept forward to the far side of the big house where he hid back to finally watch her in action.

Master Gareth was tied, butt naked around the base of a handsome weeping willow.

All who lived there knew, that it was the same weeping willow he’d tied many men and some women to – to whip them.

The tree had a long notch or deep groove hacked high into it like an upside down smile. That smile was worn smooth now, from the many times that a rope had been tied around the wrists of slaves and then pulled around the tree tight and knotted to hook onto that groove. The tension of it making the slaves hang by their wrists while being whipped. Their feet would be tied and the rope pulled snug around the base to the other side into a similar low groove hacked into the tree looking like a smile. All the slaves knew it to be true that Master Gareth would always say, if you were going to have a weeping willow in the yard, it should be used to cause some weeping.

With him as the master there, it had known a much weeping and screams of agony. That was an inside joke between him and his overseers. He had a way of saying, while smiling, “…seems to me, that weeping willow needs a treatment – otherwise it don’t grow lessen it gots a body to hug it and weep.”

That’s what Asiza remembered him always saying.

That day, Master Gareth was hugging his weeping willow, shouting, crying, screaming and weeping his eyes out.

It appeared this time, the joke was on him.

“Where my mama at! I swear fo’God I strip eva bit o’yo’hide from you – you don’t tell me!” She growled through tightly clenched teeth. Asiza was in tears, one of the girls from the house said her mama was gone, sold and so was Suga. Hearing that made her crazy – and before letting the slaves run off, she had them strap Master Gareth to his favorite tree.

Sobbing, slob running from the corner of his mouth, drooling into the grooves of the bark on the tree, Master Gareth begged for his life. From between his wide spread legs, he pee’d down the tree and plead for his torture to end, swearing from his soul, “I DON’T KNOOOOW - please – please – I swear fo’God, I don’t know where – where she at. I he’p ya’find’ha – I swear fo’God, I he’p ya’find’ha… please – please – AI-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-IH …” he screamed in agony as the whip slashed across his naked backside this time. Altogether, that would be fifteen slashes – cutting, burning and leaving him bleeding fire once more.

“You thank I trus’a word you say? You evil – wicked man! You sell m’mama?” Asiza sobbed, tears rolling down her face.

“You sell my Lil’Suga… you gone die! But slow… real slow! I ain’t got nothin’ lef’ta live fo’ an’ got no reason to’keep you living. Yessa masta’, you gone die – but you gone suffa’ firs’ – lawd you gone suffa’…”

“Asiza! No more… stop!”

Hearing her name come from foreign lips, carried to her on a deep voice, stunned her, broke through her blaze of fury. Lowering the whip she turned to see of all people – the big man from the lake, staring at her. Right there – right then she knew – he’d been after her all along. She should have known, no white man was going to just idly breeze by a Negro female on her own.

“Asiza… no more… please – you done enough. Leave him now…”

She could only stare at him – unable to take her eyes from him as he spoke calmly to her.

“…you don’t wanna kill him now.”

“HELP MEEEE – HELP MEEEE – UNTIE MEEEE – HELP MEEE – KILL’HA – KILL’HA NOW – KILL’HA NOOOW – HELP MEEE!!!”

Gareth Kuiper wailed and shouted for his life, trying to see the man standing off behind him.

Tears rolled down Asiza’s face, she figured her end had finally come – he had a gun pointed at her - by the time she would snatch the whip back, he would have a ball in her – that would be her end.

“Asiza… I ain’ lookin’ to hurt you, no nothing of the sort.” Broc tried explaining to her right away.

“SHOOT HA’ – SHOOT HAAA!” Master Gareth pleaded.

“Yeah… you come t’hurt me, hunt me. I knew – somebody gone come… I knew… ain’t know it was you - but – I knew. Know I’mo die too – so, you go on kill’me, ‘cause I ain’t givin’ up, ain’t comin’ t’ya – an I’mo kill him too – he got to die.”

“Not by your hand Asiza… not by you.” Broc went on to try and reason with her. She was sweating, hurting with her face full of tears and heartbreak. To see it, made him feel a strange empathy that gripped him deeply.

“You gonna kill me? Gone do it.”

“I don’t want to.” Broc pleaded.

“YEAH YA’DO – YA’DO WANNA KILL’HA!” Master Gareth squealed, sobbing, the surface of his back, flexing and drawing tight from the sizzling stripes. “Do what he say, gone shoot me…”

“That’s not what I’m wantin’ – put that whip down and leave this place with me…”

Asiza stood slowly shaking her head to and fro, “Can’t, I’on trus’ no man… know what ya’ll do t’me, know what you gone do’t’me. I can’t… I can’t… I…” She tried to speak around the thick catch in her throat, she tried to see through her tears – it was hard facing the end, “…I ain’ no animal … don’ want no body, treatin’ me like – no animal – using me – hurtin’ m’soul – like he…” She nodded to Master Gareth, “… hurt my mama.” She paused, thinking about it, taking her eyes from him for just a moment, and then looking up once more, “I… jus’as soon… die… so you gone now – do what you come for… ‘cause I can’t come wit’you – not alive I can’t.”

“DAMN YOU - SHOOT THAT NIGGAAAA – CUT ME DOWN AN’ SHO-O-OT THAT NIGGAAAA!!!” Master Gareth raged in a foaming madness.

A lone shot rang out.

Asiza stood with her mouth open in disbelief – waiting for the burning pain. When it didn't come, she looked down at herself, at her body, expecting to see blood, wondering when the pain would start. There was no pain, no burn, no blood, and no hole. She looked up – Master Gareth had gone silent. Looking to him, she was shocked to see blood trickling from his temple. He hung lifeless against the tree. As if in a dream she turned from him to look back at the big man before her – his flintlock pistol was smoking.

Her eyes traveled up from the gun to his face, to his eyes.

“What, what you go and do that fa’?” She asked, stunned.

“He was irritatin’ me – irritatin’ you.” He said simply – staring into her wet green eyes. Eyes that touched the very core of his soul.

Asiza was confused, forcing her feet to move, she began slowly backing away. Her eyes on the big white man, wondering who could he be? What made him shoot Master Gareth, when it was plain to see, he had come to shoot her? None of this made a bit of sense to her.

“Don’t go Asiza… don’t go. You can’nah keep running – you can’nah keep hiding - you all alone Asiza… you all alone.”

She continued to back up, trying to open a greater gap between them. When finally she had her bearings about her, she spun and sprinted off through the woods. The world had suddenly gone topsy-turvy on her. Nothing made sense. She ran as fast as she could to where she had left her horse. Sprinting with all the speed her body could muster as if the devil himself were on her heels. She wanted to look behind her to see if he was there too, running to catch her – but she dare not look, she dare not. With her heart going faster than she’d ever felt it beat, she finally came to where her horse waited. Snatching the reins free she leapt upon it in one fluid motion and set it off into a fast gallop away from Clover Grove plantation, and away from the big white man she’d first encountered at the lake.