Good Fortune (9781416998631) (10 page)

“Well, I sho' wa'an't sneakin' visits to hear that storyteller over this way.”

I laughed. “Ain't sneakin' nowheres! I got to take Missus's children—you know young Missus Jane an' young Masta Bernard?”

He nodded.

“Well, Missus got them wit some tutor round here, an' I bin tole to get them there five good days a week.”

“Ain't you s'pose to be wit them?” he asked, rubbing his beard with his thumb and forefinger. “That tutor must be two miles down the road from here!”

I bit my lower lip, and my eyes cut over to the old storyteller in the distance, then back to Tucker. “Wouldn't let me stay inside and, well”—a sly smile slid on my face—“that tutor saw
me peekin' in on them an' tole me to stay away durin' their lessons.” Tucker gave a whistling sound and shook his head.

“Yes, Tucker, you right. I didn't have no business up there. But cain't do nothin' 'bout that now. But what you up here fo'? You seem to be headin' down to the city!”

He put his hand on my shoulder, his eyes growing wide. “Masta gonna let me hire myself out! Gonna work fo' a blacksmith in town.”

“Didn't think they did that much round here, Tucker,” I said.

“It ain't that uncommon, an' see,” he explained and said while leaning in closer, “I'se bin workin' wit him already. Late nights, sneakin' out there, then returnin' befo' dawn.”

“How you sleep, then, Tucker!” I said with an excited whisper, considering how big a risk he had been taking. He shrugged his shoulders.

“Reckon money's betta than sleep. On our trip, we ran into the man, an' he done act like he ain't neva seen me befo' an' spoke to Masta on my behalf. They's business partners or somethin', an' Masta jus' up'n agreed!” he said with a final, satisfied nod.

“Thing is,” he continued, “I can't earn my money no more. Gotta give it all to Masta. But at least I'll be getting away from this place from time to time, an' at least I ain't gotta sneak round to do it. I'm happy 'bout it.”

“Well, that's good fo' ya, Tucker,” I said, as he backed away.

“Sho' is!” he said, grinning. “Now I gotsta be gettin' on.”

I waved Tucker off and walked on toward the schoolhouse, lost deep in thought.

The door to the schoolhouse opened some five minutes after I reached it. I watched in silence as the children skipped out of the room, one by one. Missus's children were usually the first ones out the door, but today I watched as the teacher, tall and slim, held young Missus Jane back until the rest of the children had filed out. Young Missus Jane's face was flushed deep red and grew even darker as the teacher bent over her to share a word or two. I walked closer to the building as the door shut, and young Missus Jane stood sullen-faced on the steps. She stared at the door for a few seconds, then turned to see where I was. Finding me with her eyes, she silently came to my side.

Heading back with young Missus Jane, I couldn't help but notice that all the enthusiasm had gone from her small body. She took her finger and slipped it in her mouth.

“Young Missus Jane, now, I think you'se too old to be suckin' on your finger like that.” My words had barely tumbled out before she pulled her wet finger from her mouth and slipped her hand into mine.

“I got in trouble today,” she said simply, squeezing my hand with hers.

My body had gone rigid at first, but then it melted, piece by piece, into the innocence of her gesture.

“Everybody do somethin' wrong sometimes. It's all right,” I said to her softly. I glanced down at young Missus Jane's face and saw that blush in her cheeks was slowly seeping away. What I saw was a child, a little girl seeking to
play and please and imitate what she saw around her.

I couldn't identify the feeling that raced through my bones. It wasn't one of affection, or love of any particular kind. It was, rather, a feeling of empathy, which lingered even after, as we approached the plantation, she yanked her hand from mine and fell into a different role. But even as her little feet thumped the earth while she ran to meet her waiting mother at the door, and as she screamed back an order that I should bring her something cold to drink, I remembered her small fingers seeking out my own hand for comfort. A small smile curled onto my lips.

CHAPTER
 
10 

I
T WASN'T UNTIL A FEW NIGHTS LATER THAT
I
FOUND THE TIME
to talk with my brother. In the dark one night, as I walked back toward the cabin, I saw him headed off in the direction of his workplace, not five minutes from the fields.

Mary had returned to the cabin quite a while before, so I poked my face around the door to tell her where I was headed, gobbled down what little food she slipped into my palm, and headed to the place I knew Daniel would be.

I approached him and saw him with his tools laying about, a broken wooden chair leaning against his leg.

“Daniel, … it's late,” I said quietly. Thinking he hadn't heard me, I called him again, but he didn't respond. “Daniel, you bin quiet lately—look angry a lot of the time. I'd feel better if I knew what it is makin' you act this way.”

“Don't feel like talkin' right now,” he responded, his attention fixed on his work. I took a deep breath and blew it all out at once. He wouldn't even look up to blink at me.

“Well, I'ma sit right here”—I found a spot on the ground in front of my brother—“and keep my sleepy eyes open if I have to through the night till you talk.”

Daniel's face didn't change until, some moments later,
he looked up as if he expected me to be gone. “You still here,” he said just as I began to doubt that he'd speak to me at all. I nodded over at him.

“Want you to promise me somethin',” he said, looking back down at his work.

“What's that?”

“Sarah”—he looked up again—“Sarah, promise me if Masta Jeffrey gets near you, you tell me.” He stared into my eyes with a stern, unyielding look. I almost frowned, wondering if he knew about the incident on the hill those many weeks ago. The fear that had nearly subsided, for Masta Jeffrey hadn't spoken to me since, came rushing back as Daniel mentioned him.

“Daniel, I don't understand. What's Masta Jeffrey got to do with anything?” He was silent for a moment.

“I don't know. Jus' got this bad feelin' 'bout him.”

“He do somethin' you ain't like?” I asked, trying to coax a confession that he knew about the hill. But he shook his head.

“Naw, jus' got that feelin'.”

He doesn't know.

My heartbeat slowed with a bit of relief. If Daniel found out what Masta's son had said to me, I feared what his reaction would be. I didn't know how families dealt with the rape of their women—and I didn't want to find out. Perhaps if Daniel was bold enough to confront Masta Jeffrey, then Masta Jeffrey would seek me out for revenge! Perhaps he'd ask his father to sell Daniel, or beat one of us in the process. My heart was not willing to risk letting
Daniel know anything about the incident and Masta Jeffrey's intentions, even though they seemed to have died away. Daniel's anger seemed to flow too freely at times. He usually exercised the necessary restraint, but there were some things he'd risk his own life for.

I was glad he didn't know.

“Daniel, this got somethin' to do with you an' Tucker bein' gone all them days? What happened up in town?” Still shaking his head, he gazed over my shoulder into the black night, until he collected himself again.

“I've seen folks sold so many a times,” he said with a hollow voice, “but never seen nothin' like this, Sarah. Never.”

“Like what, Daniel?” I asked. I waited his silence out, my body sagging with exhaustion. When he brought his eyes to mine for a moment, the tears that had appeared for a brief moment disappeared from them.

“It touched me deep down somewheres, Sarah, an' won't seem to go away.”

“What was it, Daniel?”

“Friend of Masta's wagon broke down. Masta told me to take the man on to town to do his business. Made Masta Jeffrey ride wit us. Skinny man Masta's friend was, with dark spots under his eyes an' evil barks in his voice. Knew I hated him the minute I sawed him …”

“Don't say that, Daniel.”

“I hated him, I tell you.” Daniel's eyes burned.

“Name was Knocks, an' he dragged a slave woman an' her son out to the wagon. He had bound her up an' put her in the back wit Masta Jeffrey. Her son, he say his name was
Lil' Lou, sat 'tween me an' Masta's friend. Knocks had tole her that Lil' Lou was gonna be sol' with her, jus' so she'd hush. But I knew it wa'n't the truth, jus' knew it every time I looked ova at that lil' boy. That boy jus' sat there, quiet, bouncin' with every ditch in the road. When we got there, to the sellin' block, Knocks dragged her up there in front of all those folk. She wa'n't smilin', naw, but she looked at ease 'cause her son was standin' next to her.” Daniel brushed both hands up across his face and over his hair.

“Then the biddin' began. This man in the gatherin' crowd wanna buy her. Knocks put chains round her arms. Then some otha man up there sayin' he could use some young hands, an' they starts biddin' fo' that young lil' boy. There was no way they was gonna stay together, that mama an' lil' boy.” He took another breath before he continued.

“That's when I sawed her face, horror drippin' from her eyes. She was starin' at Knocks as if she done seen a ghost. That's when things got bad, Sarah. They got … they got bad. She fell to her knees, right in front of Knocks, yellin' an' demandin' that he give her that child. He kicked her—his shoe went right in her face. Then he turned an' 'pologized to her new masta. But she wa'n't done. Shoulda laid there. Shoulda jus' laid there! But naw, naw.” He was glaring at the memory.

“When she dragged herself up, face covered in blood, she say soft at first somethin' 'bout that lil' boy bein' Masta's baby. I heard it, 'cause I was lookin' straight at her like there wa'ant no one else there. I sat there feelin' hell breathin' close on my neck. She started poundin' near Masta's feet
wit her fist an' screamin, ‘You gave 'im to me Masta, why you sellin' yo' own chile.' His own, Sarah …” He stopped, and leaned his forehead on his palms. I sat with my face in my hands.

“Daniel, you don't hafta …” I began, my voice cracking, but he hardly heard me.

“Knocks was red in the face—every soul knew he was mad. An' that woman just kept screamin' those terrible screams. I turned away from the block fo' respect, an' my eyes ran across Masta Jeffrey's face.”

He stopped short and looked fixedly at me.

“Sarah, I felt so dangerous sittin' there near him in the wagon, an' I think he knew it. He sittin' there breathin' heavy, and I think he was scared, but it didn't matta to me. Thought of you, thought of Mama, thought of that woman on that block, an' felt that wrongdoing swimmin' through Masta Jeffrey—jus' felt it as clear as day. Anger started bubblin' up. Cain't explain how it was when we was drivin' back. Some kinda terrible anger came a rumblin' up thru me an' bleedin' thru my breath. Couldn't even look at the two of 'em. Prayed to God Knocks wouldn't say nothin'. Prayed the devil wouldn't ask me nothin', wouldn't even move, fo' I don't think I would've controlled myself.”