Chapter 9 #3
Being sold and passed about, I commiserated with his sentiment. “Belonging to ourselves is the only way around that. Know anything new ‘bout freedom out west?”
Serving plantation men during their meetings meant he was privy to hearing. Thus far, he hadn’t had much to pass on to us on the subject. I looked at him, hoping that was about to change.
His dry laughter triggered my disappointment. “No, ma’am. Nothing new. Same old story gonna be told out west as it is down south. Mormons ain’t handing freedom out.”
He moved from his side of the fire to sit near me and lowered his voice as if sharing a confidence.
“I hear these same Mormons heading west to avoid religious persecution are out there fighting, killing, and capturing Indians. And they still hold what their Joseph Smith preached about slaves owing masters their obedience. New territory, same bullshit.” He turned his head and spat.
“I worked every damn day of my life and don’t owe a white man nothing! Truth be told he owes me.”
I placed a hand on his arm, wanting him to know he wasn’t alone in his opinion.
“Pardon my language, but sometimes a man needs to express himself. And as a man, I don’t like what I’m seeing. They got us driving wagons and our women walking.” He shook his head. “I swear the devil’s their daddy.”
“That’s a horrible thought but I can’t say I disagree.” A silent moment passed before I continued. “If I haven’t said it recently, thank you—”
“Zinnie, you been thanking me every day since I pulled your girl from that stream.”
“I’m forever grateful.” I squeezed his forearm gently.
He nodded before playfully chiding. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed those extra servings on my plate. Your constant appreciation and you filling my belly is thanks aplenty.”
“Wait ‘til autumn and I get around to making those fried apples you like. Your belly’s gonna bust wide open.”
A heavy footfall intruded upon our laughter. I released Buck’s arm as we sprang upright, heads lowered sensibly as Master Ryland came into view.
“Why’re the two of you over here when everyone else has retired?” He continued without a response from either of us. “Mine is a godly household. I don’t tolerate fornication. If you’re hankering for one another, get my permission.”
We offered a requisite “yessir” that sounded more docile than I felt. He was the fornicator, adulterer, and hypocrite. Hattie’s cry sounded in the distance as if to prove the point.
“Put that fire out and get going. We’re leaving early tomorrow as always.”
Buck and I quickly obeyed before moving away. I halted when the hypocrite called my name. Stopping in my tracks, I lowered my head without looking back.
“If I need to teach you who owns you I can. Don’t let this happen again.”
I nodded as shrill screams sounded in the distance. My thoughts, inevitably, went to my children. I took off running, leaving Master Ryland behind. Faster, stronger, he easily passed me, stopping short at the sound of a rifle blast, same as I did.
“Dear… Jesus!” Lifting my skirt hem, I tried to outrun terror and was breathless when I reached a mass of folks clustered near the edge of the encampment.
“That monster tried to devour her!”
I pressed through the throng enough to see Alretha kneeling on the ground sobbing, cradling Miss Tandy.
“I told her not to be out here relieving herself without me!” She rocked back and forth, unmindful of the blood seeping into her dress as she held our beloved elder.
A woman beside me offered a shaky whisper. “She must’ve got confused and went beyond the wagon ring. That’s how that beast got her.”
My eyes followed her pointing at a huge thing at the feet of one of the Mississippi Missionaries. It was either the largest dog God ever created, or more likely a wolf. Shot dead.
“Miss Zinnie! Help her, please. Do something with your roots and things.”
My heart plummeted as I looked from the sobbing Alretha to Miss Tandy, who’d only moments ago prayed a prayer of safety. And blessed my Hattie.
My eyes closed with the weight of sorrow.
The only one who can heal that gaping wound on her neck is the Lord himself. And it would be a Lazarus situation.
I inhaled a shaky breath and pushed through the crowd to kneel beside the wailing young woman.
“Child, I wish I could, but this is beyond me.” I touched her shoulder lightly before gently lowering Miss Tandy’s eyelids and bowing my head, knowing she was gone.
My soul ached for the violent loss of this precious elder even as my mind tilted at the oddities and precariousness of living in the open. We’d gone from the beauty of a swarm of butterflies that day to the brutal death of Miss Tandy.
Her traveling days were done, and she was with Mama Ruth and the ancestors now—at peace and freer than I’d ever been.
I wiped a tear and mouthed a silent prayer to the Creator who had granted her soul’s request. Our beloved was now liberated from a life of bondage. I mourned her loss but celebrated her freedom while fearing what further dangers this journey might manifest for myself and my children.