All aboard, p.9
All Aboard, page 9
Sure enough, Buck became the town crier in the slave quarters. He walked up and down the dirt paths hollering, “Wake up! That cotton is waiting! It can’t pick itself! The weaving is waiting! The hosses are waiting! The cows are waiting! The chickens are waiting! Git up! Let’s go!”
Ruth dragged herself up and got ready for the field. Her neck and back had kept her awake most of the night. Before she headed to the gin house, she decided to make a special trip before too many folks stirred. She made her way to the hounds’ pen behind the poultry house. She was sure Odie would be there. Everyone knew Odie always helped with the hounds before he went to the stables to start his work.
Ruth got to the entrance of the pen, and sure enough, Odie was there with Billy Bob, a white plantation hand. She watched the two as they fed the hounds, talking to them like they were people.
“How you doin’ this fine morning, Toby?” Odie handed out bones as Billy Bob poured leftovers in their bowls. “Here, Bear; here, Killa. Like that? Got some good vittles for you, Hawk, Blackie. Come here, Soldier. Rock, here you go, boy. You lookin’ mighty good this mornin’, Potluck. Come on over here, Daisy. What’s the matter with you? You still sleepy? Come here, gal. Oh, look at Brute and Savage. You two, come over here.”
Brute and Savage, tails wagging, hurried over.
Ruth could see that these two men were more comfortable around the hounds than they were around other humans. She watched these young men with their genuine camaraderie. Both had big coffee mugs of freshly ground coffee that they enjoyed while making small talk.
Billy Bob was quiet and unassuming. He was around twenty, tall, and lanky. Some might say he was handsome, if he’d groomed himself a little better. He had that scrappy look, as if he didn’t care how he looked. He had worked for Massa McMyers for four or five years. Ruth had heard that he was somehow related to McMyers, but she wasn’t sure how.
Ruth studied Odie. She knew him to be a mild-mannered boy who had been brow-beaten by his father most of his life. He and Lila had grown up together. Odie favored his father in appearance, but they were like oil and water in temperament. While the father was insensitive and boisterous, the son had shown himself to be sensitive and reflective.
Ruth made sure Odie saw her. She motioned with her hand for him to come to her. Odie came over. She couldn’t believe she was doing this.
“Looka here, Odie. I don’t have much time. I need to be pickin’ up my sack right ’bout now, ’fore Ol’ Cyrus miss me.”
“No skin off me. What you want with me, gal? Speak your piece and git gone.”
“I know you riled up over Lila bein’ gone and all.”
Odie gave Ruth a look that was full of venom. “You the one helped her!”
Ruth mustered her courage and said, “Naw, naw! You the one helped her. You the one put all that book learnin’ in her head. You the one teached her to read.”
Ruth could see by the sheepish look on his face that he was guilty of the deed so she pressed on. “What you think yo’ daddy gon’ say if he found out you pushed that gal off this plantation with all that learnin’? You know what the punishment is fo’ learnin’ a nigga how to read?”
Odie checked his surroundings to make sure no one had heard that blasphemy. He whispered, “Shut up, you lyin’—”
“Listen here, Odie. I’m gon’ need yo’ help.” Ruth went over her story quickly in her mind. “Lila is still ’round these parts. Yes, she still ’round here. Heard tell she got picked up close to Ally-bama. Heard tell she wants to come back. Her new massa mean as hell. He ain’t nothin’ like your pappy. Shoot, he talkin’ ’bout puttin’ her on the block.”
She could see she had Odie’s attention, so she continued. “Lila wants to come back, but … she scared—scared of them hounds of yourn. She seen how they rip off yo’ flesh when they catch you.”
The rising horn sounded louder, and she could hear Buck still hollering for everyone to get to their work places.
“You ain’t making no sense, gal. You lying! She ain’t never coming back! For all I know, she could be in the ground! Now get gone!” Odie’s face was beet red. He walked away, fuming, kicking rocks, and muttering cuss words under his breath.
Ruth stood there, speechless, watching him walk away, knowing that she’d blown her chance to get his help. She scurried to the gin house to get in line to pick up her sack. She was praying she could avoid a confrontation with Ol’ Cyrus so early in the morning.
She made it to the field without his criticism. An hour or so later, the rising Mississippi sun warmed the air and found Ruth barely able to keep up with her group of pickers.
Ol’ Cyrus rode around on his mare, looking for something to complain about. He lashed out with his whip at the least provocation. His faithful hounds, Brute and Savage, were close by. Ol’ Cyrus whipped slaves because he was in a bad mood, because the sun was glaring down too hard, because a picker stopped to relieve himself, because someone was sick and vomiting; he didn’t need a reason.
Ol’ Cyrus was in his glory as he intimidated and terrorized the pickers on this morning. Then, something seemed to catch his attention. Ruth peeked up from picking cotton to see him ride over to one of the young female slaves, several rows over. Ruth knew what was going to happen.
“Come here, wench!”
The girl, Ella Mae, went over to him with a look of dread. Her brown skin was the canvas for her beautiful Ethiopian features. She was nearly twenty, with thick black braids sprouting out of her gingham head wrap. She had a thick frame with wide hips. Ol’ Cyrus smiled as he watched her walk toward him.
Ruth watched too as the poor girl approached Ol’ Cyrus with her head bowed.
Please, Lawd Jesus. Hep that young girl. She needs yo’ hep. Can’t nobody hep her but you. She don’t need ’nother baby.
Ol’ Cyrus bent down from his horse and began talking to her.
An old field hand, not far from Ella Mae, spoke out as they all continued picking cotton. “That rascal is talkin’ all them dirty, foul things to that po’ gal. She live with Gus. Everybody know that. That don’t mean nothin’ to Ol’ Cyrus. He’ll have his way with her and make Gus watch ’em! That rascal been eyeing that po’ gal for a week or mo’. He’ll be making his night visit real soon.”
The slaves grumbled among themselves as they continued picking.
“He was just like that when his wife, Celia, was alive,” the old field hand said. “He ain’t gon’ never change.”
Another slave spoke out. “Lawd know she don’t want no mo’ chillen. She jus’ had a young’un fo’ Massa, and Missus made him give it away. Heard tell that baby look jus’ like Massa, with that red hair and all. Heard tell that po’ gal cried her heart out. Naw, she don’t want no mo’ chillen. She got three by Gus as it is.”
The old field hand added, “But what can she do?”
No one responded. They all knew there was nothing they could say.
Ol’ Cyrus finished taunting the young girl and rode off to antagonize some other field hand he felt wasn’t moving fast enough.
Ella Mae was visibly upset but returned to her row and continued picking cotton. Tears ran down her face as she picked her quota, knowing what lay ahead for her.
“You OK, baby?” asked a nearby picker.
“Yes, ma’am, I’ll be OK.”
Ella Mae glanced over and made eye contact with Ruth. The two women shared a moment without saying a word. Ella Mae knew someone cared about her. Ruth slowly nodded. Both women returned to work.
Dear Lawd, I heard she had her baby taken from her. I know how she feel. I sure hope they don’t put her on the block ’cause Ol’ Cyrus say she a bad nigga. But if she don’t go ’long with his plans, she might be facin’ the block.
The children played games after they had finished all their chores and had eaten their midday meal in the trough. Miss Mattie made her usual meal of cornbread and buttermilk for the children in her care. She watched over her brood as they enjoyed their free time. The boys played marbles and tag. One of their favorite games of tag was Hide the Switch. One boy would hide a switch. Whoever found it would then chase the others in an attempt to whip them. Girls were allowed to play this game as well. Most of the girls played with their handmade dolls made of rags, wood, and string, while the others played a new game called London Bridge. They learned this new game while playing with the white children who had visited the plantation earlier that year. Their laughter was lighthearted and carefree.
Mattie watched Odell from the corner of her eye. She knew why he was there. He stood, half hidden, behind a nearby bush, watching his prey. He was five feet ten and weighed around 185 pounds. His pale skin was usually covered by a broad hat and a kerchief around his neck. It was easy to see Odell coming from a distance, once he took his hat off. His flaming-red hair, most often worn in a ponytail at the nape of his neck, shone—almost glowed—in the hot Mississippi sun.
Mattie saw Odell edging closer and closer to catch Lil Sue’s attention. Lil Sue quickly looked away. Her laughter stopped, and the smile left her face. Odell looked at Miss Mattie. Miss Mattie averted her eyes from his stare. She knew what was about to happen; it happened all the time. There was nothing she could about it.
Odell looked at Lil Sue and hollered out, “Come here, gal.”
As a matter of routine, Lil Sue looked to Miss Mattie for help. Mattie couldn’t help. No help came.
Lil Sue lowered her head and reluctantly walked toward Massa Odell. The other children watched for a moment but then continued playing their games. Miss Mattie wondered what was going on in their little minds.
Massa Odell held his hand out. With much hesitation, Lil Sue finally took it. She turned and gave Miss Mattie one last look for help. Miss Mattie averted her eyes from Lil Sue. Massa and Lil Sue walked toward the Big House. Odell took his hat off. Miss Mattie thought that Lil Sue, in her white gown, and Massa Odell, with his flaming red hair, looked like Satan escorting an angel to hell.
Miss Mattie continued watching her brood, giving them the impression she was in control.
The field hands’ day finally ended after the sun went down and the horn blew. Ruth and the other pickers slowly made their way toward the gin house in the still of the night. It had been another exhausting day. They prayed they would somehow miss the wrath of Ol’ Cyrus.
Most pickers were quiet, not knowing how their encounter with Ol’ Cyrus would end. Ruth’s body felt like it was about to give up on her. Her knees were swollen and her ankles felt unstable, even though her legs and ankles were wrapped tightly with rags.
Ruth joined the pickers as they slowly formed a line at the gin house. Their bodies were drenched with sweat, their muscles ached, and their stomachs growled. They longed to get back to their shacks so they could finish their chores and then rest their weary bodies. They would eat whatever they could scrounge up, maybe sing some spirituals, take care of their babies, and get some sleep.
Ruth was shaking with dread as she stood in line, knowing that her last bags felt too light to pass Ol’ Cyrus’s scrutiny. She approached the scale as if she was approaching a guillotine.
Lawd, Jesus. Please have mercy on me. I can’t take no whippin’ tonight. Please, Lawd Jesus. I don’t ask for much, but I need you right now. Beads of sweat formed around her hairline. She had been warned that Massa was behind in his cotton count and that she was one of the reasons why.
Ruth was right. Her weight was too light. Ol’ Cyrus was too busy to waste time cussing her out this evening. He shoved her to one side to join a group of pickers who also had fallen short and were due to be whipped. Ruth noticed that R. C. was in her group this evening. She hadn’t seen him in a while. His group usually weighed in at a different time than hers. She saw how bruised and swollen his face was. He looked defeated. Big Aunty was right.
The men were tied to pegs on the ground. The women were stripped to the waist and told to wrap their arms around the oak tree. Ruth put her head wrap in her mouth to bite down on to muffle her cries when the whip cut her back.
“Ahhhh!” Ruth screamed out in pain. She tried her best to bite down on her head wrap when the whip landed, but she couldn’t help herself. Blood oozed down her back and soaked into the top of her skirt. “Ahhhh!”
Ruth took her punishment and dropped to the ground when she was eventually untied. She slowly got up and covered her bloody back with her blouse. With her head held high and tears in her eyes, she headed back to the slave quarters alone, limping in the dark, new blood sticking to her shirt. When she reached her shack, she opened the door and flopped down on her mattress. She didn’t bother to go to the well for water. She didn’t bother to prepare whatever food she had for supper. She fell asleep, curled up in a fetal position.
NOTHIN’ BUT THE BLUES
If I had my life to live over, I would die
fighting rather than be a slave again. I want
no man’s yoke on my shoulders no more.
—Robert Falls, age ninety-seven
Knoxville, Tennessee
Around eleven o’clock that night, Ruth forced herself up off her pallet. Her stomach was growling. She knew she had some corn pone and bacon fat. She decided to go outside to see if she could find something in her little garden for her dinner. She was hungrier than usual. She got on her knees and dug around in the dirt with her hands for any small potatoes, any unripe tomatoes, anything. Inexplicably, she started crying; she didn’t really know why. She was tired and weary and just felt like crying. There seemed to be a hole in her soul. She cried as she dug for her food.
“Ruth?”
Ruth turned and looked into the darkness. She didn’t panic; she knew the voice. That baritone voice was not there to hurt her.
Buck walked out of the darkness into the moonlight. “You all right?”
“Hey, Buck. I’m fine. What you doin’ out here so late? You must be tired.”
“Just checkin’ on things. Makin’ sure everybody’s all right. You don’t look all right.”
“I’m fine, Buck. Just out here lookin’ for something to eat.” Ruth forced a smile. “How’s Josie? Ain’t seen her in a spell.”
“Tell you the truth, she’s been sick lately—throwin’ up quite a bit, mornin’ and night. Sure hope she ain’t pregnant.”
“Why you say that, Buck?”
“I thought about it long and hard. I can’t see bringin’ a new life into this hell hole. If she is pregnant, she’s gonna take some Jimsonweed and do away with it. That’s what we always do.”
“Oh no, Buck. I think you and Josie doin’ a fine job raisin’ Lil Benjamin. Don’t you want another baby?”
“I don’t even know if it’s mine. You know how things are around here, Ruth. Massa Odell and his men can do whatever they want to my Josie.”
“I know, Buck. You know I know. I … we … me and Lila never knew when Massa or one of his friends would decide to come down here to the quarters and pleasure themselves. It broke my heart to see Lila go through all that. She was only a child when Massa started comin’ for her.”
“Speaking of Lila …”
Ruth looked up at Buck, not sure where the conversation was going.
“You heard anything, Ruth?”
Ruth searched his face in the moonlight for any sign of betrayal. She didn’t see any. “No, Buck, I ain’t heard a word. Big Aunty say she been listenin’ real good up at the Big House, but she ain’t heard nothin’ either. I hope them ’trollers didn’t get hold of her. Ain’t no tellin’ what they might do to her. I heard ’bout all the things they do to the women folk they catch on the road. They say no news is good news. I been prayin’ night and day for her safety.” Ruth returned to digging for her food.
After a moment of silence, Buck said, “Ruth, did Lila ever tell you I helped her learn her numbers?”
Ruth stopped what she was doing and stared at Buck, her mouth agape.
“She never told you?”
“No, Buck, she never mentioned yo’ name.”
“She promised me she would keep our secret. I didn’t know how you would feel about it. I knew it was dangerous, but that Lila was such a smart little thing. She always wanted to learn more. With the right schooling, there’s no tellin’ what she coulda been. You should be proud of her.”
Ruth’s head was spinning.
“I didn’t know how to tell you, Ruth, but I would catch her and Odie sneakin’ off to the barn to read somethin’ just about every other day. Other times, I saw ’em sneak to the tannin’ shed. That shed was so stinky, no one wanted to go near it. I guessed they figured that was the best place to learn.”
“So … you knew.”
“Yes, I knew. I didn’t say nothin’ to nobody, but just know that every closed eye ain’t ’sleep.”
“Buck … you ever wonder ’bout life off this plantation?”
“All the time. Just waitin’ on the right time. Couldn’t run with Lila. Wanted to, but I didn’t know if Josie was able to run with me. Didn’t know if Benji could make the trip. Didn’t think it was safe enough.”
“I didn’t know, Buck.”
“Ruth, we all prayin’ that Lila made it up North. I been prayin’ that Lil Jesse and R. C. make it down South and over to Florida.”
“How did you know?”
“You are not alone, Ruth. Just remember that.”
Who else know about Lila and Lil Jesse and R.C.? Ruth wondered. How does Buck know so much?
“Take care of yourself, Ruth. Get you some rest. We got us a long, hot day tomorrow. See you in the field. Oh, and if you need a little extra somethin’ to eat, I’ll get Josie to put an extra piece of somethin’ in my gourd tomorrow for you. Good night, Ruth. Get you some rest now.” Buck walked into the night.
