Courage to Run Page 5

  Rit didn’t answer and Minty could tell something was wrong.

  “Minty’s measles done run they course now,” Annie said. “The lung fever is hangin’ on, but ain’t nobody can catch that.”

  Rit plopped the baby on the quilts next to Minty. Nicey seemed uncertain, almost as if she had forgotten Minty.

  “Nicey, baby, it’s me, Minty.” Her voice was raspy and much deeper than it was when she left Brodas Plantation. The baby stuck her thumb in her mouth and looked at Minty with distrustful eyes. Minty reached out and poked the baby’s tummy. Nicey pulled her thumb out of her mouth and put her arms out toward the girl in recognition.

  Minty pulled Nicey on top of her. “So, now you be rememberin’, hm?”

  “Can you tend the baby so I can talk to Annie?” Rit seemed worried.

  Minty bounced the baby up and down, but since her illness, Minty tired easily, so when Nicey laid her head down on Minty’s shoulder and stuck her thumb in her mouth, Minty was ready for the rest.

  “…knowed she done taken off. Got the patrollers out hunting.” Minty could hear her mother whispering to Annie.

  “We heared the bells clanging and then the dogs. Don’t blame her none, that Ruby. She knowed Master was fixin’ to put her on the block. That overseer been meaner and meaner to her. Reckon he took a notion to hurt a body and Ruby be the one he lay that evil eye on.”

  “Hush, Annie. Don’t you go gettin’ in trouble jes’cause you riled. Nicey goin’ need you more’n ever.”

  Minty knew what they were talking about. Ruby must have heard that they were planning to sell her South and she ran off. She was taking a big chance. Most runaways were caught and dragged back in chains. They were whipped—given “nine and thirty”—and sometimes the thirty-nine lashings left them close to death. The letter R—for runaway —was also branded into their flesh.

  They were often sold anyway, since the further south, the harder it was to make it to freedom. Slave owners knew that a slave who had tasted freedom, however brief, would most likely work up the courage to try again, no matter the cost. They didn’t want that kind of influence in the Quarter.

  “Didn’t never think Ruby’d pluck up courage to run. Her with Nicey. Ain’t often mothers with sucklin’ babies run. Um, um, um.” Annie shook her head with admiration.

  “Ruby knowed you love Nicey, Annie. She knowed the only way she ever see Nicey again is to get free and save the money to buy her child out of slavery.” Rit sighed. “I don’t hold none with runnin’. It be best to bide our time, but Ruby done the only thing she could.”

  “If I don’t live long enough to see Nicey growed, will you tend her?”

  “I give my word,” Rit said. “I be prayin’ she catch that train.”

  Nicey put her chubby hands on either side of Minty’s face and rubbed faces, then gave Minty a wet kiss on the nose. They had both fallen asleep. The rag diaper tied around Nicey was sopping wet. Minty took Nicey’s little hands and planted a kiss in each palm. She could hear Annie humming from outside the door. Since Annie came to care for Minty, they had become friends, despite the decades between them.

  “Annie.”

  “Yes?”

  “Nicey be awake and in need of a washin’ off.”

  Annie came over and untied the soggy rag. She washed Nicey with water from the bucket and tied a fresh rag on the baby.

  “Annie, what did my mother mean about Ruby catchin’ a train?”

  “Shush, child. You don’t be talkin’ ’bout no such thing.” The old woman put her finger on her mouth and moved toward the door with Nicey in her arms. She stepped outside and Minty could hear Annie’s sauntering steps on the soft dirt around the cabin. Must’ve looked like she was taking Nicey for a slow airing.

  She came back inside and laid Nicey beside Minty.

  “Your mama be talkin’ ’bout the Underground Railroad,” she whispered. “It more’n likely is a story made up, but patrollers say that some slaves jes’ disappear, almost like they be an underground road. Not even the dogs can find ’em.”

  The story made Minty shiver. “Is it a railroad like the one that brings the Brodas’s relations from the north?”

  “No. Some folks think that when patrollers say ‘underground road,’ others heared it wrong and called it ‘Underground Railroad.’” The old woman lowered her voice again. “Nobody knows for sure, but some folk jes’ don’t get caught and they jes’ don’t come back.”

  “If only they could come back and tell us how to find the road,” Minty said.

  “Once a body be free, ain’t never goin’ come back to slavery, child. Ain’t never.”

  “Slavery just don’t make any sense, Annie.” Minty had been thinking about this. “It surely is bad, and not just for the slaves. When I lived over at the Cook place, I noticed that learnin’ how to look down on folk ruined them. Do you think that whippin’ people turns white folk mean?”

  “Maybe. All white folk ain’t mean. I heared that some white folk up north are workin’ to get slaves free.”

  “I wish I could be free. My whole family too. Free.”

  “Won’t be happenin’ less’n you make it happen, Minty.”

  “I know. But I’m all the time scared, Annie,” Minty confessed. “I’m scared of everything. I keep askin’ the Lord for courage, but my bones turn to corn mush when I come up against trouble.”

  “When my babies got sold away, long ’fore you was born, I got angry with God. Angry with myself, too, that I ain’t had enough courage to fight for my babies.”

  “How did you get courage, Annie?” Minty knew Annie wasn’t afraid of anything.

  “I finally seen that the Lord loved me like I loved my babies. Courage growed when I had nothing more for white folk to take. Most important person to me can’t never be taken away.” Annie laughed. “That’ll stiffen you for the fight.”

  “The most important person?”

  “Lord Jesus.” The old woman was matter-of-fact. “You jes’ keep on prayin’, girl. God don’t seem to waste courage when you ain’t needin’ it. He sorta saves it up for when you need a dose.”

  “You be sayin’ to trust that courage’ll be there, even when you can’t try it out beforehand?”

  “Uh-huh, like Moses. He done beg the Lord to pick anybody’sides him for the job of leadin’ the slaves outta Egyptland. You know what God say?” “Go down, Moses.” “Uh-huh. That’s what he say.” Annie picked up the baby and took her outside. Minty meant to think about everything Annie had said, but she felt her eyes getting heavy.

  Minty had been back at the Brodas Plantation for several weeks. Her measles had only lasted a couple of weeks, but the

  lung fever hung on. Minty’s voice was lower and raspier and most of the folk believed the change most likely permanent.

  Ben laughed when she sang, telling her that her new voice was like no other. It had a deepness that was surprising in a young girl. When she joined the singing, her voice added a resonance that folk commented on.

  Minty was helping Annie with the babies again. She spent her days with Nicey on one hip and a line of toddlers following her wherever she went.

  “Minty.”

  It was Old Rit calling her. What was her mama doing in the Quarter in the middle of the day? Something must be wrong. Minty picked Nicey up off the ground and ran toward Annie’s cabin, a passel of children toddling and tumbling after her.

  “Master called to me this mornin’.” Old Rit was rubbing her fingers together, though she tried to sound matter-of-fact. “He declared you was well enough to go back and finish your hire with the Cooks.” Old Rit sat on a crate near Annie’s rocking chair and put her arms around Minty and Nicey. “James Cook been pesterin’ Master Brodas about either getting you back or getting his coin back.”

  “Back?” Minty couldn’t believe the words her mother was saying. “I thought I was home to stay!”

  “I been hopin’, but…” Old Rit couldn’t finish her words.

  “
Rit, them folk ain’t fit to hire Minty.” Annie said her piece.

  “We don’t have no say-so, Annie. Mr. Cook is comin’ to fetch my baby.”

  Nicey put baby hands on Minty’s face and gave her one of those smeary kisses. Minty pulled away from Old Rit. She felt betrayed even though she knew her mother could do nothing.

  “Honey-girl, you try real hard to learn the weavin’. I want you to have a trade so’s you won’t spend your days la-borin’ in the hot sun like livestock.”

  Minty didn’t answer. She felt as if she were back in that stifling room with lint floating in the air. She could barely catch her breath.

  “Ah-choo.”

  “Are you sick, Minty?” her mother was rubbing rough fingers over her face. Nicey could feel the tension and began whimpering when Annie took her from Minty.

  “No,” said Minty, squaring her back. “I hate weavin’ and I hate bein’ indoors.”

  The overseer called from the yard. “James Cook is here with his wagon. He’s come to carry ’Minta over to the Cook place. Where is that girl of yours, Rit?”

  “She coming, sir.” Rit put her arms around Minty and whispered, “I love you, baby. Lord Jesus keep her safe.” The woman kissed both of the girl’s palms and said, “You jes’ be patient, Minty, by ’n’ by.”

  Minty walked outside.

  “Courage, Minty,” whispered Annie.

  Courage. Maybe courage was just putting one foot in front of the other and not thinking too far ahead.

  If I don’t learn, they’ll send me back. Minty walked over to the wagon and crawled up onto the tongue and into the back. She sat down, leaning against a bale of wool in the bed of the wagon. This time she said her good-byes, waving to the sorrowing huddle of slaves—Old Rit, Annie, Nicey, and the babies—until the wagon turned the bend.

  ‘Buked and

  Scorned

  If Minty thought that her last stay at the Cooks’ house was bad, this time was worse. One day just ran into the other and one season ran into the next, interrupted only by punishments handed out by Mrs. Cook. Minty shivered through winter and sweated through summer.

  She stubbornly refused to learn the different weaving tasks. When she failed, she was punished and sent outdoors. Each time the door shut behind her, she filled her lungs with lint-free air. The sun, the rain, the breeze—all were a balm to Minty.

  That wasn’t the only reason she wouldn’t try. Minty knew if she learned to help Mrs. Cook, the Cooks would let Sally go and keep Minty on. She was as cheap an apprentice as they could get, but Minty understood how much her friend Sally needed the indoor job.

  Spending time with Sally helped ease the homesickness. Sally relayed messages from Brodas Plantation to Minty and carried the lonely girl’s words back. Minty’s time away from her family was still difficult, but as Sally often reminded her, “Just be glad you ain’t been sold away. You just hired out for a time.” Minty tried to be content with that.

  Mrs. Cook shook Minty awake early one morning. “Git up and gather your things. Your hire is over with us.”

  “I’m leaving?” Minty wondered if she was dreaming. Sometimes her dreams were more vivid than her waking hours.

  “That old cheat, Brodas, was fixing to charge more on your rehire since you’re two years older’n when we first hired you.” She sniffed. “Mr. Cook told him you was worthless two years ago when we hired you and you’re still worthless.”

  Minty remembered those long-ago words of Mrs. Cook, “She better be able to learn or you’ll take her right back.”

  Was she finally going back to her family for good? Minty folded her quilt. How happy she had been the day Sally brought it to her. Old Rit made it from scraps of old clothing. Minty pretended she could catch the smell of pitch on the pieces from Papa’s overalls and the faint odor of cooking from the red patch made from her mother’s worn headcloth. When she wrapped her quilt around her it was like being hugged by her family. Her family. Would she be seeing them this very day?

  She said her good-byes to Sally and sat on the stump by the sheep pen to wait.

  Minty soon saw the dust cloud raised by the wagon wheels on the dirt road. Putting her hand over her eyes, she strained to see who was driving. As it came into view, she saw Cicero with Old Rit sitting beside him.

  “Mama!” Minty didn’t wait for the wagon to pull into the yard. She ran.

  Her mama didn’t wait either. She jumped down before Cicero even stopped the wagon. “Minty, baby. How you growed! I ’most didn’t recognize you.”

  Old Rit looked exactly the same to Minty. Beautiful. Never had anyone looked so beautiful to her. When her mother’s arms wrapped around the young girl, it felt like home.

  “How did you get leave to come fetch me?” Minty knew the Missus did not care to be without her cook, even for a few hours.

  “I asked for leave to see my baby. Been too long since I laid eyes on you.” Old Rit took the quilt out of Araminta’s arms. “I see you got my quilt.”

  “Yes. When Sally brought it to me, it felt like family. I found Papa’s overalls, William Henry’s breeches, your head-cloth. I even thought this piece of calico might be the pocket from Annie’s apron.”

  “That’s right. When Annie found out I was making it for you, she unpicked the threads holding the pocket. Said a body could do with one pocket on such a fine apron,’stead of two.”

  Minty knew the sacrifice that represented. That apron was one of Annie’s prized possessions.

  “And the back of the quilt was made out of Nicey’s old diapers. I soaked ’em in bluin’ and cut away the worn parts.”

  “Nicey’s too big for diapers now?” Minty couldn’t wait to see her little friend.

  “Want to know how I got the wool to stuff it?” Old Rit was grinning. “Your Papa had Sally’s man trade some of my sweet ’taters to Mrs. Cook for a bundle of her wool. Ben thought it a fine joke that the wool from those stingy folks be warmin’ our little girl after all.”

  Minty laughed at Papa’s joke. She had often caught Mrs. Cook eying the quilt as it lay carefully folded on Minty’s plank. Nobody pieced a quilt as fine as Old Rit. The colors and the pattern made a stunning design.

  Cicero reached down to give Minty a hand up. Old Rit climbed up and sat beside her. Nobody came out to say any good-byes, so Cicero giddyupped the team and turned around the yard and headed back out the road.

  “I can’t hardly bear to wait to see everyone.”

  Minty heard the fidgeting of her mother’s fingers long before she understood something was wrong.

  “Honey-girl, that’s why Master let your old mama come see you. You’re just goin’ have to be patient some more. Master Brodas done hired you out again. I know you’ll be home by ’n’ by, but—”

  “I’m not goin’ home?” The lightness dancing in her chest since morning sank into a hot, painful knot in her stomach. She had trouble pulling the next breath into her leaden body.

  “No, Minty, baby.” Old Rit put her arms around the girl. “Plantation’s still troubled. Master’s been hirin’ out more slaves every year. The Quarter’s gettin’ quieter and quieter.”

  Minty couldn’t get a single word past her throat. I hate slavery. A body doesn’t have a say ’bout anythin’. People do whatever they want with you. Master worries more ’bout his hunt-in’ hounds than he does ’bout his slaves.

  “Minty, you be hearin’ me?” Old Rit must’ve been talking. “You be going to a young couple with a new baby. They want a maid-of-all-work and a nursemaid. Master Brodas recalled you carryin’ Nicey ever’where you went and thought it’d be better’n hirin’ you another year to Cooks.”

  Minty murmured an acknowledgement.

  “It be good inside work. I don’t never intend watching you get your brains fried workin’ in the field year after year. I always hoped to see my girls workin’ as house slaves.” Old Rit got quiet.

  Minty wondered if her mother was thinking of the two girls that had been sold South. Not much chance th
ey’d ever get word of them, but if they were still alive, they were most likely working the cotton fields.

  “I know, Mama. I’ll do my best.” Minty took the quilt and folded it onto her lap. ’Least I’m luckier than Joseph from the Bible. He got sold into slavery, but not before his brothers took away the patchwork coat his papa gave him. I still have my quilt.

  The horses trudged on, their hooves making a rhythmic thudding in time to the sad tune sung by Old Rit and Cicero:

  I’ve been ’buked and I’ve been scorned,

  I’ve been ’buked and I’ve been scorned,

  I’ve been ’buked and I’ve been scorned,

  I’ve been talked about, sure you born.

  Minty loved to hear the singing, even if she didn’t feel like joining in. They got to the last verse:

  Ain’t gwine lay my ’ligion done,

  Ain’t gwine lay my ’ligion done,

  Ain’t gwine lay my ’ligion done,

  I’ve been talked about, sure you born.

  Minty stiffened her back. Many of her people knew the secret: with Jesus, a body could bear almost anything. And when you couldn’t bear it any longer, Jesus carried you home in His gentle arms. Ben used to say that the Lord Jesus wept right along with them.

  As the wagon pulled up in front of the freshly whitewashed frame house, Minty reminded herself that she wasn’t only bringing her quilt—she had Jesus with her as well.

  How hard it had been to say good-bye to Old Rit. Cicero took the wagon around back and knocked on the back door. A pretty young woman answered the door.

  “Miss Susan?” When Cicero saw the woman incline her head slightly he continued, “I carried your new girl over from the Cooks’ place. This here be Araminta Ross from Brodas Plantation.” Cicero pushed Minty forward. “They call her Minty.”

  “Hmm.” Miss Susan looked Minty over. “You are the one that Edward Brodas said was good with children?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “All right. Come in, come in.” She flicked her hand toward Cicero. “Get on home, boy. I’m sure Edward Brodas does not feed you in order to have you standing idle here.”