May the Road Rise Up to Meet You: A Novel (11 page)

An’ jus’ what’ll that cost me?

Well … you got any more of that there rum?
The attendant asked.

Dunmore opened his jacket and revealed another flask just as large as the first.

Been doin’ this same Charleston-to-Richmond run an’ back for three years now
. The attendant said.
It gets t’needin’ a little somethin’ t’break up the boredom, ya know? ’Course, if they ever found a flask or bottle on me I’d lose my job, but …

Door’ll be open
. Dunmore said.
Plenny more where this came from
.

Throughout the rest of that afternoon, and on late into the night, Micah got to hear Dunmore’s story told all the way through. Twice, since Dunmore would say it all over again to the attendant when he slipped in to drink some of the rum. Seemed that Dunmore could sum up all his problems on this earth in the form of just one person. His older brother. Seemed their father had given all his forty-five acres and thirteen slaves to the older of his two sons.

Goddamn pre-mo-gen-ee-tore’s what they call THAT
. He scowled.

So Dunmore was left with two thousand dollars to begin his life. While his older brother was given everything else. Didn’t help matters that his brother expanded the plantation. Got lucky enough to start growing cotton right around the time the prices for it began steadily rising. While Dunmore moved north to Virginia. Bought a few acres of land. Only didn’t make it as a farmer ’cause
the bank, the sheriff, and the goddamn weather was all conspirin’ against him
. Had to sell most everything but the house he built for himself. And that was when he began doing carpentry work all the time. All around Charlottesville. Built a steady income. Figured he was as good a carpenter as any man he’d come across.

Then his brother died of pneumonia. And Dunmore didn’t bother
going to the funeral. But he was sure to be there when his brother’s will got read. Sure enough, bastard passed everything down to his wife. Holdin’ it all in trust ’til his own son reached the age of twenty-one. All Dunmore got out of it was a thousand dollars. When his goddamn brother was worth fifty sixty times that much. And just to see how much that bastard had cheated him out of, Dunmore went to the auction at
Les Roseraies
.

A goddamn stupid name for a place
. He said. Angry at Micah, like it was him, somehow, who came up with the name for the place he got born.

But his brother’s place was almost as big as
Les Roseraies
. So Dunmore stuck around, like he wanted to feed that anger. Watching all that money get raked in at the auction. Hating his brother more with every new sale. ’Til he saw an old man get sold for eleven hundred dollars. A ridiculous amount for a man
half
his age. But then he started hearin’ some of the men in the crowd talk about the old man. Sayin’ he practically ran the place. Sayin’ they ain’t never seen even a
white
man who got his kind of skills when it comes to runnin’ the levees. Buildin’ them, even. Any kinda carpentry.

That was his Daddy
. Dunmore said to the attendant between slugs from the flask.
An’ I figger he musta taught th’boy plenny. Ain’t dat right?

Micah decided he didn’t want to speak any words to this man when a simple nod would do. Which was what he gave him. But then Dunmore, with no hesitation or sign of exertion, flicked the back of his right hand hard across Micah’s face. Just like he was swattin’ a fly. Only Micah felt his cheek burn instantly. And his eye began to tear up from the force of the blow.

When I ask you som’nin you better ansa me
. He muttered angrily.

Yessuh
. Micah replied.

And the attendant laughed. Took another swig. Then stepped out of the compartment.

An’ don’ go thinkin’ you gonna get my Daddy’s name neitha
. He said when the attendant was gone.
My no-’count brother done that. He gone an’ give ’em all my Daddy’s las’ name. So now they’s a whole buncha black-as-night niggas wit’ the name Dunmore. Well, ain’ gonna be one more. You gonna stay just what you was when you was listed in the property back ’ere. You jus’ ‘Micah, a slave.’ Jus’ like ’ey say on ’at property list
.

And Micah didn’t say anything at first. Then thought better of it.

Yessuh
.

Micah had only ever heard about South Carolina and Louisiana before. He wasn’t sure if the long train ride had taken them any closer to Louisiana. Or Mississipp’, where his Daddy was headed. But he knew that they couldn’t be anywhere near Charleston. Not after a full day ridin’ that train.

His Daddy had told him that they’d see each other again someday. But Micah couldn’t find that kind of hope within him. Even from the first moment his Daddy said it. For the first time in his life, not believing his Daddy. Not believing that the Lawd was watchin’ over them the way Daddy always said. And that got him to thinking that maybe he was less like his Daddy than he’d always thought. And maybe more like Dunmore. Angry. Disbelievin’. Like the folks Momma said th’Devil got holda and never let go. So maybe that’s why God had sent him off to be with Dunmore. ’Cause they was two of a kind.

Charlottesville was much smaller than Charleston or Richmond had been. Still, it seemed a wild and grand place compared to
Les Roseraies
. And Dunmore reveled in his return as they walked from the train station. Down along a few major streets. Micah still chained at the wrists. Dunmore leading him by the elbow like he was showing off a prized sow. He didn’t speak to many people. Only nodded sternly at a few as they passed. As if to say, that’s right. This one’s mine. ’Til they came upon a saloon and Dunmore unlocked one of Micah’s wrist irons. Fixed it to the hitchin’ post out front. Went inside and announced that he was buying a round for all his friends. To celebrate his new investment.

And for the next two hours or so, Micah sat along the storefront curb. His left arm stretched out above him, chained to the hitchin’ post. While every so often Dunmore brought men to look him over. Made Micah stand up and turn around every time. And Dunmore would tell
the man all about the plans he had. And how he was a man of property now. Until finally, Dunmore walked out by himself with a full bottle in his hand. Went into the butcher’s shop across the street. Came out of there with a large, newspaper-wrapped packet. And they walked the rest of the way through the town. Out to an area with several small farms all connected to one another. A mile or more outside the busiest part of town. When they came upon Dunmore’s single-story house. Not much bigger than the slave cabins back at
Les Roseraies
. Though this one had four glass windows and a chimney.

You know how t’cook?
Dunmore asked.

Nosuh
, Micah said.

Well ’at’ll be the first thing I teacha
. Dunmore said.
An’ ’at’ll be the last time I do any cookin’ ’round here
.

Right around the time the sun was dropping down over the hills, Micah could hear the sound of barking dogs off in the distance. He was washing the two pans Dunmore had used to cook steak and pan bread. While Dunmore sat on the porch with a jug he had taken from inside. And as the dogs got closer, Micah looked out through a window. Saw two men approaching. Each of them holding leather ropes attached to two dogs apiece. And Dunmore stood up now.

Well s’about time you boys got ’ere
. He shouted above the barking.
I thought maybe ya didn’ get ma message
.

Oh, we heard all right. Heard you done a little shoppin’ down in Carolina
. One of the men said. And they all laughed.

My bastard of a brother lef’ me a thousand dollars. Y’believe dat? He musta been worth sixty sevenny thousand, an’ he leaves me a thousan’
.

A thousand’s still a nice bit o’ change
. The other man said.

Not compared to sevenny thousan’, it ain’t, Tom
. Dunmore answered.

No, not compared to sevenny thousand
.

But I’m gonna turn ’at thousand into a lot more’n ’at
. Dunmore said.
Micah! Get out here!

Micah placed down the rag he was using to scrub the pans and walked out onto the porch. Made sure to say.
Yessuh?

Take off that shirt and give it here
. Dunmore ordered.

Micah quickly complied. Then Dunmore looked at him through squinted eyes. Like Micah had done something wrong again. He tossed the shirt to one of the men holding the dogs.

See these two gennlemen here?
Dunmore asked.

Yessuh
.

They Mr. Tom n’ Albert Embry. The fines’ slave-catchers in all Virginia. You ever run off, boy?

Micah began to shake his head but then remembered better.
Nosuh
. He replied.

Well looky here what’ll happen when you even thinka tryin’ t’run off from dis here place
.

The man holding Micah’s shirt placed it by the dogs’ noses. And immediately they began to lurch at Micah. While the men held the ropes loose enough so the dogs could almost bite him. And Micah stepped back toward the door. So the men let go some more of the ropes. Until Micah was pinned in by the dogs. Barking. Lunging at him.

See how fas’ dey get that scent, boy?
One of the men shouted over the barking.
They’d be on toppa ya ’fore ya got half a mile away!

An’ ya know what we do when we catches ya?!
The other man said.

He ain’t never got the whip, boys
. Dunmore said.
Maybe we better give’m a little taste of it so he don’ go gettin’ no ideas ’bout goin’ nowhere
.

The Embrys pulled the dogs back. Tied them to trees maybe twenty feet away. And Dunmore pulled Micah down off the porch, pressed him against one of the posts that supported the roof. While one of the Embrys walked over with a rope, pulled Micah’s arms around that post so he was huggin’ it. Tied Micah’s arms together at the elbows, so he couldn’t move at all. And the other one unraveled the whip that was wrapped around one shoulder.

Micah had seen one of the field hands whipped at
Les Roseraies
when he tried to run away. The man was whipped forty times in front of all the other slaves. Massa Leroux left just before the overseer performed the punishment. Once he’d spoken to the slaves about how running off was a poor way to repay his kind treatment of them. But Dunmore didn’t seem like the type to shy away from any punishment. And before Micah could form the words in his head, wantin’ to tell his new Massa he’d never do such a thing, he heard the whip being wound up by one of the Embrys. Then a loud hiss and the crack of it against his bare back. Like fire streaked across his skin from rib to rib. Then winding up again, and another. And another. And another. The pain of each of them worse than the one before it.
Opening the previous wounds all the more, and making their own mark, too.

Feel that, boy?
Whichever Embry wasn’t doing the whipping said. Didn’t wait for a response from Micah, who was tryin’ to catch his breath.
Now mos’ folks pay us two hunnerd dollars to chase down one o’ dere runaways. But Mr. Dunmore here, seein’ how he’s a good fren’ an’ all, why we do it for almos’ nothin’ at all. We do it wit’ pleasure. You unnerstan’?

Yessuh
. Micah said quickly. Hoping there’d be no more demonstrations. But he heard the whip warm up and lash across his back again. And then again.

That’s six
. Dunmore said, moving close up to Micah now.
Imagine what it’ll be like when it’s sixty—if’n you ever even THINK a’runnin’ anywhere. You unnerstan’?

Yessuh … Yessuh
.

You my inheritance, boy
. He said.
An’ I’ll chase you down all th’way t’Africa if I hafta
.

Then the other Embry came and untied the knot. Handed him back his shirt as Dunmore told him to get inside and finish his work. Sleep on the kitchen floor when it was done. And Micah could feel the trickles of blood stick to his shirt soon as he put it back on. ’Til it was pressed right against the wounds. Clinging to his back as the blood started to dry.

When he was done with his work, he glanced outside to see the Embrys and Dunmore seated on the porch. Passing the jug back and forth. Slowly, he slid his shirt over his shoulders. Felt the wounds open up again as he pulled it away from his skin. Then cupped his hands and dipped them into the water he’d just used to do the washin’. Carried them carefully up past his left shoulder. Turned them over and let the water drip down his back. Stinging all the way down. But then some relief. Did the same over the other shoulder. Then wiped up what had spilled on the floor.

Dunmore had made him arrange some hay in the corner when the cookin’ was done. Told him that was his bed. And now Micah lay down on it. Belly first. Exhausted. The bits of straw like little pins against the bare skin of his chest. So he pushed himself up to his knees, placed his shirt down over it. And lay back down. Settling his left cheek, the
one Dunmore hadn’t hit, against his arms. It had been years since he’d cried. And it felt like it would almost be a relief to him now. But he refused to allow it. ’Cause that’d be a victory for Dunmore. Like he was broken.

And no.

There’d be none of that weakness. Just cold, unfeeling, survival. Through whatever might come. Like the mule he now was. And nothing more.