Slave Girl (10 page)

Monday, November 14, 1859

Hince came to Aunt Tee’s cabin after the dinner meal, none the worse for the beating he took. Licks heal fast on the outside, but they’re a whole lot harder to heal
inside.

We could hear Rufus singing down in the Quarters, “Coming for to carry me home.”

Sunday, November 20, 1859

Today we had meeting in the Quarters same as always. I wore my new dress – Mama’s dress. Everybody say how nice I looked. I tried real hard not to be puffed up, but
when Missy came, I just had to strut a little. “Pride go ’fore a fall,” Rufus whispered in my ear. Then he winked.

Hince came to meeting and sat ’side of Spicy. Wherever Spicy is these days, Hince aine far behind.

Rufus preached about Elijah who was taken to heaven in a fiery chariot. Home means freedom when we sing. So Rufus’s story is telling us, we’re going to go to freedom one day, soon. I
thought about Mr Harms and the one-eyed man and the Underground Railroad. Was somebody getting ready to run?

We closed singing –

Later

Wook came to Aunt Tee’s cabin late this evening to talk to us. Times had changed. We hardly knew what to say to each other any more. Wook did a good part of the talking
– remembering mostly. She teased me about the time we were playing hiding, and I hid in some poison ivy. That made us all laugh. Then Wook said she had to go. “Goodbye,” she say,
hugging Aunt Tee and Spicy. When she hugged me, she whispered softly. “Pray for me.”

I haven’t said anything to anybody. But Wook is getting ready to run – and the one-eyed man and Mr Harms are probably helping her. Don’t know how I know it, but I do. I do.

Monday, November 21, 1859

Things have been in an uproar all morning. Mas’ Henley cain’t be reasoned with. I was right! Rufus, Aggie, Wook and the baby ran away last night. They just up and
flew away.

Mas’ Henley made a promise. “I’ll free anybody who brings me information about Rufus and who helped him. Think of it, your freedom. I swear it!”

This aine about no handkerchief. Mas’ Henley is promising freedom. If I told him everything I know about Mr Harms and the one-eyed man, I could be free. Free. The idea is tempting. My God!
I cain’t believe I just had that thought. How could I even think of doing such a thing? I couldn’t tell on Mr Harms. I know there are people here at Belmont who would turn in their dear
mamas for a piece of meat, let ’lone freedom. Lord, put that ugly idea out of my mind forever and ever. Amen.

Tuesday, November 22, 1859

Mas’ Henley and a group of men went out looking for Rufus and his family. Rufus was the only person who has ever dared to run away from Belmont and we wanted him to make
it, even though we couldn’t say it – not even to each other. There was lots of singing about heaven – but we all know heaven is freedom.

Our hopes were crushed like fall leaves ’neath our feet when Mas’ Henley got back this evening. Mas’ Henley called all of us to him. He threw bloody pants and a shirt on the
ground before us. “They’re dead.” He spat out the words like bad fruit. “All ’em. We had to shoot Rufus. The others drowned in the river, when the boat they was in
turned over. Current took them under.”

Rufus? Aggie? Wook? Baby Noah – all dead! What happened to the railroad that takes slaves to freedom? Didn’t the one-eyed man help Rufus and his family?

From this day forward Mas’ Henley say we aine ’llowing no more Sunday meetings, and we cain’t speak of Rufus or any members of his family. Mas’ might be able to tell us
what we can do with our bodies, but he cain’t tell me what to feel, what to think. I will remember Rufus and his family as long as I live – and he cain’t stop me!

Later that same night

Even though Mas’ Henley has forbidden us to gather, we mourned the loss of our friends in our own way. We raised our voices in song from our cabins in the Quarters, from
the orchards and kitchen, wherever we were. We didn’t need to be together to share our grief. We sang our hurt. We clapped our sorrow. We never spoke their names, but we all knew we were
mourning our own, Rufus and Aggie, Wook and little Noah. They were free at last…

Wednesday, November 23, 1859

We woke this morning and the world looked like it’s done been covered in a thin white veil. The first hard frost. Slaughtering time.

Saturday, November 26, 1859

The men slaughtered hogs for days. The smell of fresh animal blood turns my stomeck, so I stayed clear of the slaughtering yard and stayed close to the kitchen where pots and
pans clanked and banged. The noise helped drown out the sound of dying.

As I write, the smokehouse is filled to overflowing with hams and sausage, bacon and ribs – all slow-curing in smoke from smouldering wood chips.

Later

Aunt Tee say just when you think you know the devil, he changes his face. Now I know what she means. I’ve always thought Mas’ Henley was the worse man in the world.
But then come Briley Waith. Rufus was always in charge of slaughtering, but Mas’ Henley hired Briley Waith to take charge this year. He’s common as dirt, tall and lean with sun-red
skin. Keeps a tangle of white hair hid under a beat-up hat. The cat-o’-nine that hangs to Mr Waith’s side tells me he’s a man who keeps it close, because he plans to use it.

Watching Waith makes me feel sick in my heart. There is something ’bout him that frightens me way down deep inside. We made soap today under his watchful eyes. He sees everything. To me
he’s a dangerment – like a snake, sly.

Sunday, November 27, 1859

Thank goodness for good days – they take the sting out of the bad ones. Aunt Tee sent me down to the stables to get Hince. When we walked into the cabin it was filled with
the smell of cinnamon and apples. For days, I’ve been slipping sugar, butter, flour, lard – careful not to get caught. Today I got the cinnamon stick – enough to make a small
apple pie.

It’s first frost – Hince’s birthtime. “Just for you,” I say, giving him a shiny black button I had found and polished. He promised to keep it always and I knew he
would.

“I don’t have nothing to give,” say Spicy. She stood toe to toe, eye to eye with him. Then she gave him a kiss, right on the mouth. “I’m glad you was
born.”

He let out a whoop that could be heard clear down to the river. We all had to laugh.

At times like these we missed Uncle Heb. But while Spicy and I worked on the quilt, we told stories about him, and about Rufus and Aggie and Wook. That made us more thankful that we were
together. Apple pie has never tasted so good.

Monday, November 28, 1859

Just as we feared, Mas’ Henley liked Waith enough to keep him on. Pulled several men ’way from the tobacco drying sheds and put them on the job of building Mr
Waith’s overseer’s cabin. Mas’ Henley chose a spot that gave him clear view of the whole plantation. He can see the Quarters out his back door and the back of the Big House from
his front door. From the left side window Waith can see the kitchen and the fields behind, and from his right side window Waith can see the orchards and woods. Clear to me, Mas’ Henley has
brought Waith here to be his eyes.

Tuesday, November 29, 1859

Miz Lilly sent for me today. She was lying in bed – say she had a fever.

“So you like your shoes?” she say, groaning softly. I offered to get her some water. She called to me to stand closer. Then she grabbed my hand.

“You like nice things, don’t you?” I say yes, then she come back with, “You can have lots of things, but you’ve got to tell me what I want.” She asked me
question after question about Mr Harms – so many my head went to swimming. But I was real careful not to let on to nothing. Wonder what’s got her sniffing around Mr Harms like a
ol’ hound dog. Missy must have brought her a bone. Now she wants me to bring her another one. I say, “If I hear or see something, Miz Lilly, I’ll come to you right now.” All
the time I’m thinking, “I’d never tell you a thing – ’specially not on a abolitionist.”

Wednesday, November 30, 1859

All this time has passed and Mr Harms still aine talked to me. But things have changed so much, I need to tell him Miz Lilly is trying to find something on him. But it’s
like I aine even in the room. During lesson time, I rub William’s legs after they been soaked in hot, hot water. I’m still listening and learning all I can, but I wish Mr Harms would
talk to me.

Thursday, December 1, 1859

While serving the noon meal, I heard Miz Lilly tell Mas’ Henley that she had written to a friend of hers in Washington. The friend had wrote back saying, “Mr
Harms’s father and mother are well-bred southerners, but his uncles Josiah and Joshua Harms are hell-bent abolitionists.” She sucked in as though she had spoken a word purely evil.
“Who is this Mr Harms?” she say.

This I know, Mas’ and Miz Henley fights on just about everything in the world, ’cept’n slavery. On that notion they are together. They plenty mad about losing Rufus and his
family. Mas’ Henley say he would speak to Mr Harms ’bout his family.

I know Mr Harms said he would speak to me, but that was weeks ago. He never has. I got to warn him, so I’m just gon’ have to speak to him first.

Friday, December 2, 1859

I took a big, big chance today. I waited outside William’s room before class. When Mr Harms came down the hall, I whispered. “Be careful. They know ’bout your
uncles being abolitionists. They think you might be one, too.” Mr Harms never said a word to me – never even looked my way. I wonder did he hear me?

Later

Mr Harms heard me all right. After supper, he told Mas’ Henley about his uncles being abolitionists. It was smart for him to bring it up, before he got asked about it. I
was serving them coffee in the large parlour when I heard Mr Harms say he was sick ’shamed of his relations and wanted to forget they was ever kin. That seemed to set well with Mas’
Henley. I found every reason to stay in that parlour listening. I poked up the fire as Mas’ Henley was saying, “I’m trusting you to be an honourable man while you’re an
employee in my home.” Coming from Mas’ Henley it sounded like a warning. I never took my eyes off Miz Lilly. She didn’t say much. But the compression on her face told the whole
story. She didn’t trust Mr Harms not a stitch. He’s got an enemy in Miz Lilly – and I think he knows it.

Saturday, December 3, 1859

They finished Mr Waith’s house today. Hince say he’s so glad Waith is not staying in the stables with him any more, because he snored so bad.

Waith’s got a two room log cabin – one room and a sleeping loft – complete with a front and back door and four windows. Nothing special, but the way he’s carrying on,
you’d think it was a Big House. Miz Lilly helped furnish his place with leftovers from the attic. Mas’ Henley gave him the key to the storehouse and made him welcome.

Aunt Tee say Waith is po’ white trash that aine never had it so good. That means he’s gon’ want to make sure he pleases Mas’ and Miz Henley, to keep what he’s got.
I plan to stay clear of the man – he scares me.

Before going to bed, I looked out the window and saw smoke coming from Waith’s chimney. The overseer has settled in for a long winter’s stay at Belmont. A cold chill went up my
back.

Sunday, December 4, 1859

The wind woke me up, whistling through the cracks in the cabin wall. Sounds like whisperings from the strange dream I was having. Trying, now, to write it down while I remember
it. Even so it is hard to put the pieces together. I am running, running fast, but I don’t know where I’m going. I see Hince being taken away in chains – Aunt Tee is begging Mr
Harms to help him, but he won’t talk to her. He won’t talk to me. I see a sign that says the Philadelphia, and another that says the New York, and another that says the Boston. People
with no faces are holding up signs that say “We are abolitionists.” I’m running to them, but I never get closer.

Sitting here in the cold darkness, I’ve made up my mind that I’m going to speak to Mr Harms. I’ve just got to figure out how and where I can do it.

Monday, December 5, 1859

Mr Harms and I see each other during lessons every day, but we never have time alone.

I have to say this for William, he’s trying really, really hard with his lessons. No whining when I rub his legs either. I know the water is hot, and the exercises are hard for him, but he
never fails to try. And today for all of his hard work, William wiggled his big toe. It was a small thing, but it made me feel big inside – good – like I’d had a part in making it
happen by rubbing his legs and feet every day. It was like doctoring. I know how Aunt Tee and Spicy must feel when they help bring a new life into the world.

Tuesday, December 6, 1859

Samella, a barn cat, had a litter of three kittens under the kitchen porch. Two died. I captured the last one, a jet black one, and took it to William. I’d never heard
William say thank you for anything in his life, but he thanked me for the kitten. He named it Shadow.