Elijah of Buxton

  She said, “Now, chile, you got to settle down. You gunn wake that white man, then what gunn happen to you? We caint be having no talk ’bout you sneaking up on no one in they sleep killing ’em.

  “You shoots that thang off and every white man and boy in the country gunn be in here in no time. ’Sides, I sees you’s a proper-raised chile. You caint be having no murders resting on your soul.”

  I sucked some of the looseness out of my nose and said, “But, ma’am, how’m I gonna get you out of here? I know you’re tired but I got a horse outside that’s the second-fastest in all of Canada and if we’re careful we can ride him hard and maybe we could even borrow some of those horses there and wouldn’t no one have to walk and …”

  She laughed. “My word! You sure is one bad little mister! First off you gunn shoot a white man what’s sleeping, then you gunn help bust some slaves out they chains, then you gunn steal some horses! Why, chile, with all the mischief you got planned, white folks gunn have to hang you once then cut you down and string you up ’nother two or three times!”

  She rubbed her rough hand ’cross my hair. “Boy, there ain’t gunn be no horse stealin’ and there ain’t gunn be no more running. Caint you see we all run out? ’Sides, that drunk man over yon ain’t got no keys. Massa Prayder and his boys keep ’em, and keep ’em all separate too.”

  I remembered Mr. Taylor’s sullied knife!

  I told her, “I have this!” I reached in my tote sack and pulled out the knife. I said, “It wouldn’t make no noise if I cut that drunk one’s throat and then took his shotgun and then we could …”

  She gave me a snatch and said, “Hesh! Look at you, how you gunn cut some man’s th’oat? Tender as you is, I reckon you ain’t never even cut the th’oat of no hog, has you?”

  “No, ma’am, but I ain’t never felt this way afore.”

  “Well, you ain’t gunn start no th’oat-cutting now. How old is you?”

  “I’m-a be turning twelve in ’bout ten months, ma’am.”

  “Twelve year old and free! And look at them proper clothes and shoes you wearing! And listen to the ed-u-cated way you talking. It sure don’t sound natural coming out of you but you sound as ed-u-cated as the missus’ chil’ren theyselves. I knowed soon’s I seen you, you ain’t never been no slave. With that and you ’pearing outta thin air like you done is why I waren’t sure if you was a haint or not.”

  “But how’re we gonna get you free?”

  “You caint, chile.”

  “But I got this knife! Maybe I can gouge those chains out of the wood they’re mounted in.”

  I looked where the chains were joined up to the wall. It waren’t wood atall. The chains came right outta rock.

  She gave me another snatch and said, “Boy, stop! Them paddy-rollers ain’t leaving nothing to chance. This ain’t no ’musement to them. This how they live. This what they do. If they don’t know nothing else, they knows how to hold slaves and they knows how to keep us held.”

  I said, “Maybe if I pull the chains I can …” I snatched at where the chains were put into the rock. “… I can tug ’em free. Sometimes if you want something bad enough, your dreams get answered, sometimes if you’re scared enough, you get so strong you can do near anything.…”

  I pulled even harder on the chains and told her, “Everybody in Buxton knows ’bout how Mr. and Mrs. Alexander were clearing stones out of a field by theirselves and had loaded ’em all up in a wagon and he had to crawl underneath the wagon for something and the wheel busted off and his leg was pinned and there waren’t no help ’round and ’stead of having a fit, Mrs. Alexander got so afeared and mad that she picked up the whole end of the wagon herself so’s he could crawl out! A whole wagon full of stones! And she ain’t nowhere near strong as me!”

  I snatched again, but it was like the chains were laughing at me.

  The woman reached down and held on to her ankle where the iron band was. She said, “Honey, you gunn bust my leg ’fore you bust that rock. Don’t you think if getting afeared and wishing something to happen would make it true, that these here chains would’ve turned to dust long ago? You think you wants to pull us free of these chains more than me and them Africans does? You think you got more strength and wanting in you than us?

  “Than me?

  “Chile, you need to quit your agitating ’fore you ends up shackled too. Some things just ain’t meant to be changed.”

  She was right, and soon’s I knowed it, my legs quit working again and I fell in a heap at her feet. She pulled me up and cradled my head in her arm.

  She wiped my eyes and said, “Lord! If you ain’t the swooningest thang I ever seen!”

  She held my chin in her hand. “Listen here. Don’t you be fretting for us. You stop this crying, you just riling that African boy up, honey. You don’t wanna make things no worser for him, do you?”

  I hadn’t thought of that. I was just being selfish.

  She said, “You caint know it, but you’s the shiniest thing what we’s seen in a long, long, long time. Seeing you’s the next best thing to seeing Canada. Seeing you shows me the whole thang ain’t no dream.”

  Her baby coughed again and she kissed it on the forehead then kissed me on mine.

  She pushed me so’s she could look me right in my eye and said, “Now. Listen good. You gotta get on outta here, but ’fore you go, that there pistol you has, it real? It ain’t no chile’s toy?”

  “No, ma’am. That’s a real hundred-dollar gun.”

  “Do it work?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Do it got bullets?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “It hard to shoot?”

  “No, ma’am, I saw the Preacher shooting it and it has got a kick, but if you’re ready for it, it ain’t much. But you do gotta be strong.”

  “You ever shoot it ’fore?”

  “No, ma’am. But I shot the Preacher’s other gun, and it was just ’bout the same.”

  She smiled. “Well, honey, I s’pose if a little passing-out, freeborn thang like you can shoot a pistol, ole Chloe can shoot it too.”

  I looked at Mrs. Chloe’s arms. They were like thick, twisted, black rope.

  She grabbed my chin with her hand again so I was looking her right in the eye and she said, “Lemme hold that gun.”

  I pulled the mystery pistol outta my tote sack and put it in her hand.

  She said, “It sure is lighter than it look. Now show me how it work.”

  I showed her the same way the Preacher had showed me.

  She said, “That all?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “How long after you shoot it one time ’fore it set to shoot again?”

  “It’s a revolver, ma’am. Soon’s you pull the trigger it’ll fire again, but you gotta make sure you aim it real careful and hold your breath afore you fire the next time.”

  “And if it shoot a man one time he gunn die?”

  “You hit him in the head or the chest, ma’am, he’s gonna die. And if he don’t die right off, he soon will. And if he don’t die soon he’s gonna spend the rest of his life wishing he had.”

  “And how many times this gunn shoot ’fore it through?”

  “That’s a six-shooter, ma’am.”

  She said, “That be just perfect.”

  My mind did the totaling and, counting the baby, there were six of them!

  Afore I could ask her what she wanted to do, she grabbed my chin again and said, “Now, chile, you think you gunn be shooting something with this here pistol ’fore you back in Canada?”

  “No, ma’am, but …”

  She said, “But nothing. Maybe it be best if I keep this gun.”

  It waren’t a question.

  I looked at the way it was resting easy in her hand and knowed I couldn’t have took it back if I wanted to. I said, “Yes, ma’am, maybe that’s the best.”

  I wished I could do something more. I didn’t see how they were gonna bust outta here with just the gun
if they couldn’t get off of the wall. And she was right, once that gun commenced shooting, all the folks in this town would come running. And how far were they gonna get with no clothes if they could bust out? And what if she waren’t gonna use the gun to shoot those slavers? What if she really was gonna use the gun to shoot …?

  I couldn’t even think ’bout that.

  She set the pistol behind her and nodded over to where the Preacher was hanging and said, “’Fore you go, you tell me what that man over yon done stole that make it worth y’all leaving Canada and coming down into this?”

  I tried to look over at the Preacher but she pulled my face back to her. I told her everything that happened with Mr. Leroy and the Preacher and Mrs. Holton’s gold.

  She listened careful then said, “So now that your thief done died, is you heading di-rect back to Canada or is they some other white men’s th’oats ’round here that you need to cut?”

  “No, ma’am, I’m going right back. I got a examination in Latin so I gotta be in school on Monday.”

  She looked hard at me and said, “School?”

  She said it again, “School?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  She took the longest time to say anything else. She closed her eyes and squozed her baby.

  After ’while she smiled and said, “Here. Come hold my chile whilst I get this here shackle ’justed. I thinks all your tussling done bust one n’em scabs open.”

  I said, “I’m sorry, ma’am, I was only trying to …”

  She said, “Hesh, boy. My word! You sure do like the sound a y’own mouth, don’t you? Just be still and hold on to my chile.”

  I took the baby from her. It was a little girl.

  She said, “I see you know how to hold a baby.”

  “Yes, ma’am, some of the time I watch over the children in the nursery.”

  The woman reached down with both hands and wiggled the iron ’round her ankle then looked at me. She seemed surprised and said, “Now that’s truly ’mazing! I ain’t never seen such a thang in all my days! Why, looky how that chile just let you hold on to her! Look how easy she be resting in your arm! Looky there!”

  The baby looked up at me. The woman acted like she wouldn’t’ve been no more surprised if she’d just seen Moses hisself part the Red Sea.

  She said, “I ain’t never …! Why, I believe that gal do love you, boy! I done spoilt her something terrible and she don’t let no one hold her without she holler her life away! I do swear that baby love you! Why, I think she must believe you her brother. I ain’t never seen such a thing my whole life. That chile do feel you some kinda kin ’cause she ain’t never let no one but me and Kamau hold her so. She do, boy, looky there she really love you!”

  Tears were coming outta the woman’s eyes but she was still smiling.

  I looked down at the girl. She was a stringy sickly thing.

  I didn’t think she loved me atall. I thought the only reason she waren’t raising Cain was ’cause even though she was being toted and waren’t doing no walking with heavy chains on, she still looked just as beat and wore down and tired and whupped as her ma and pa and n’em other three Africans. But I couldn’t figure out why this woman kept saying that this girl loved me.

  She said, “You sees it, don’t you, boy? You sees what I’m saying?”

  Then I did! I started seeing some of what was going on! This was some of that talk that growned folks do where they’re saying one thing out loud but you’re supposed to be hearing lots of other things at the same time! This woman was treating me like I was growned! She was acting like I could understand what she was meaning on the back side of her words!

  I tried hard as I could to see why she was pretending that me and the little girl were kin, but nothing would come, doggone-it-all! This was just like one n’em surprise examinations Mr. Travis bushwhacks us with in school. No matter how much you know on the subject, if he just starts asking all sorts of unexpected questions, your mind and brain seize up like a pump in the winter. Even if I did know what this woman was saying, it waren’t gonna come to me now. It waren’t gonna come ’cause of the surprise.

  I felt something terrible, but she was wasting her time. I still couldn’t speak or understand this growned-folks language. I couldn’t think of nothing past how to get these folks freed, and it looked like there waren’t nothing I could do.

  She tried again. “Do you see how much she love you, boy?”

  I told her, “No, ma’am, I don’t see nothing like that.”

  I reached the woman’s baby back to her. She looked at me hard. Her hands were shaking when she took the girl from me.

  She cut out all the talking ’bout love and held her baby tight.

  I was whupped. All I could do was look down and shove my hands in my pockets.

  Then, like I was getting a message, my fingers curled ’round the piece of paper in my pocket!

  I pulled it out and saw the name of the man who’d helped Mr. Highgate and who was looking after Mr. Leroy’s earthy remainders, Mr. Benjamin Alston! Mr. Highgate told Pa he was a mighty good man. I knowed what to do!

  I whispered, “Ma’am. It’s come to me! I can get someone to help us! I’m-a be right back!”

  She said, “Boy, don’t come back in here once you done left. You need to get back to Canada quick as you can.”

  “But, ma’am, I ain’t gonna be alone. I know some men who’ll help free you! They use to be slaves theirselves. Once they hear ’bout you they’ll get you outta here in no time atall!”

  “Listen to me, boy, once you leave don’t you come back. Ain’t no one gunn help us. You just risking y’own life for nothing. Get on back to Canada. I don’t mean maybe.”

  I picked up my tote sack and went to the door of the stable. I looked back at the woman, raised my right hand, and said, “Ma’am, I swear on my ma’s head that I’m gonna come back with help. Don’t you fret, we’re all gonna be in Buxton afore the sun comes up!”

  When I opened the stable door I already had four chunking stones in my hand just in case the bear-fighting dog had woke up. He looked like he was feeling a little better. His tongue had gone back in his mouth and he was making a tiny whining sound, but he was still laying on his side with his eyes shut. I stepped over him and ran to Jingle Boy. We headed back to the tavern fast as we could. I kept hoping the men hadn’t left. As I got closer my spirits started lifting. I could hear they were still back there gambling!

  When I busted ’round the corner I saw Mr. Alston squatting ’gainst a wagon wheel watching the other men tossing the white spotty boxes. Ain’t nothing like a hard galloping horse that’ll get folks’ attention. All the men jumped up like they’d got caught doing something wrong.

  I jumped off Jingle Boy and yelled, “Mr. Alston! Mr. Alston! They got people they’re taking back to slavery! They’re ’bout to march ’em out tomorrow! They got a woman and her baby and some Africans and a boy who ain’t no older’n me! But we gotta hurry! And they killed the Preacher and got him hanging in the stable!”

  Mr. Alston grabbed ahold of me. “Slow down, boy! What you saying?”

  It took a second for my breathing to catch up to me, then I said, “There’s four paddy-rollers that’s kidnapped six people and are taking ’em down south! We can get ’em out! There’s only one watching over ’em di-rect and he’s passed out from drinking! There’s even a baby! We can get ’em out!”

  He said, “We can do what?”

  The other men looked hard at me and Mr. Alston.

  “We can get ’em out, sir. They’re feeling pretty low but once we get ’em going toward Buxton I know they’ll lively up some!”

  One of the gambling men laughed and said, “Man, pass me them dice. That boy crazy.”

  Mr. Alston turned me a-loose and said, “Son, you needs to get to Canada and tell your people ’bout that man what die. How come you ain’t left yet?”

  “Yes, sir, I will, but they’re taking these runaways out first thing in the morning
! We gotta free ’em now! I swored to Mrs. Chloe we’d get her out!”

  Then I remembered how afeared the men were when they told me ’bout the bear-fighting dog. I said, “Oh! You don’t need to worry. I already knocked the dog cold. It’s all right!”

  Mr. Alston said, “Boy, I ain’t playing. You needs to get on your horse and get your people. Ain’t no one freeing no one. This ain’t Canada, this America. They ain’t nowhere near the same. I do truly feel for them poor souls what’s been caught, but they gots laws here. If we was to get tangled up in this mess they be selling us down the river. Ain’t no one ’round gunn help. It was the sheriff what let them slave hunters lay over in that stable.”

  One of the men said, “Didn’t no one bust me free when I was in ’Bama. Why’m I gunn risk my neck for some folks I don’t know what’s stupid enough to get caught?”

  I didn’t know what to say.

  I turned to the men and said, “But we’re all …”

  The one with the dice cuffed me upside my head.

  “You heard the man, get on outta here. Don’t no one want to be hearing none of the mess you talking. We ain’t ’bout to brook your nonsense. ’Sides, I’m on a roll, you messing with my game!”

  I said, “But they’re near dead, they caint barely …”

  The man punched me in the chest, knocking me down and sending the breath right out of me.

  Mr. Alston grabbed ahold of him and said, “Ain’t no need for that!”

  The man yelled at me, “Boy! You best get away from me ’fore I kills you! We done told you, ain’t nothing can be done! You best get you’self back to Canada. We don’t need none y’all freeborn Buxton fools coming up here making no trouble for us! I ain’t ’bout to go back and be no slave.”

  I got up and started running back to Jingle Boy.

  I was so dumbstruck I couldn’t even cry.

  Jingle Boy snuffled at me when I got to him. I crawled up on his back. I headed him out toward the road and felt something leaping ’round in my belly. Next thing I knowed I was leaning over and throwing up my supper from Ma and the milk from Cooter’s ma. I throwed up over and over till waren’t nothing coming out of me but bitter water that I ain’t got no recollection of drinking. Once that was gone, I throwed up air whilst my guts twisted and jumped.