Chasing Freedom (11 page)

“You could be right, Sir.”

Sheriff Beauford liked that response. The case would be easy. He would set Fortune up now by pretending to be sympathetic, take his side to help him relax and then wait for the confession. His false smile and mellow tone were soothing. “Boll weevil was just following orders to get the riffraff out of here. He could try to link the murder and the theft to you, condemning you in the process. To avoid more heartache and rattling this good community further, you may as well confess and I suggest you plead for sympathy. Begging may be your best option.”

“But I didn't take anything. The goods are still in the wagon.”

“True, true.” Sheriff Beauford laid his head in his hands and stared at the inkbottle on the corner of his desk. “There's a lot at stake here. However, I will tell you this: If folks have to make a choice between you and that thug, they will choose the thug. There are folks here who will stick by their own, regardless. Do you understand?”

“I thought I could earn a little money by doing honest work for Mr. MacLeod. I hate killing, even during war. I would sure as heck hate it now, unless I had to protect myself. And I hate a thief. I have never laid my hand on something with the intention of stealing it, even though I had to do without food and clothes, even the land promised to me. I never took anything that did not belong to me. I ain't that kind of man, Sir. I am not a murderer and I'm not a thief.”

“Better be careful speaking thoughts like that in such a tone, Fortune. It could be dangerous. Folks don't appreciate hearing you people express yourselves forcefully.”

“It is a horrible crime, but it was not my doing and folks need to know that.”

“All this talk is not going to do us any good.” The sheriff grabbed his hat and coat. “I have to get back out to the store and see what has happened to Boll weevil. Either way, this will lead to an uproar. Prepare yourself.”

“Do you want me to go with you, Sir?”

“No. No. You will have to remain here in leg irons. You are now a suspect.”

“A suspect? There's no proof I did anything.”

“Folks will question why I let you go when they get wind of this.”

“For how long, Sir?” Somewhere in the back of Fortune's mind, he had seen this coming, but foolishly, he dared to hope that the sheriff, once he knew the full story, would let him go free. Disappointment blanketed his face and his head fell to his chest.

“I can't say. It will be some time before a decision can be made in this case.” He injected a thimble of compassion in his tone. “I'll have to keep you in custody until Justice Moody makes his way here for the Spring Session. We shall see what happens when I meet with him privately. I dare say that he may lean towards a trial, though it is not the practice with Negroes. Most prefer a quick sentencing and a good hanging.”

The overpowering fear made Fortune queasy. He asked, “Could you stop by my place, Sir, and pass the news to my mother?”

“I will do that.”

AFTER HIS BUSINESS AT THE STORE, SHERIFF BEAUFORD TOOK
the long way around to Lydia Redmond's cabin, passing by the maze of crude shacks, questioning why Negroes stayed in such shanties and misery, not wanting to better themselves. He did not look forward to the task of informing Lydia of her son's arrest. Such weeping and screaming the Negro women get on with, as though the world is about to end. He would be glad when his role in the matter had ended, for it was one crime after another in these parts and a thankless job for the sheriff. Arresting Fortune would make his job a lot easier and quell any uprising. Then the decisions were all up to the court. He didn't want a riot or a lynching on his hands.

He tapped hard and fast on the door, declining Lydia's invitation to step inside. Instead, he stood back, saying, “Your son, Fortune, asked me to come by with the news.”

Lydia stood in silence in the doorway.

“I found Boll weevil Carter in Cecil MacLeod's cellar.”

“Yes.”

“I thought you'd like to know.”

“Is the man alright?”

“His memory was cloudy and his behaviour so irrational, I had difficulty making sense of his story.”

“But he's alright.”

“There were no injuries as far as I could tell, but he walked with a limp. He's alive, at any rate.”

“What did he tell you about that night, Sheriff Beauford?”

“He kept saying something about the Negroes stealing and how they lay in wait for him.”

“This can't be. The Negroes rarely go out at night. Did he say who these men were?”

“He didn't name any names.”

“I see,” was all Lydia said.

“It all makes sense,” the sheriff said, tilting his head at the harshness of the woman in the doorway.

“Will he be charged?”

“I see no need. He had a knife, true enough, but he said the blood on the knife was his, from being attacked. His memory was grey. I think the fall down the steps scattered his mind. I took notes and let the poor soul go, for in his state he could not harm himself or anyone else.”

Lydia could feel disgust creeping through her bones. A favoured soul, she was thinking. No matter what a white does, he is always innocent. “What have you done with Fortune, Sir?”

“I'll have to hold Fortune in corrections for two months.”

“Why so long, Sir?”

“We have to wait on the spring session of the court.”

Sheriff Beauford nodded and mounted his horse. As he was about to leave the yard, he looked back and waved his hand. “You may visit your son between the hours of one and three.”

Lydia made her way inside and dropped down on a chair. She wiped the sweat from her hands on her wide blue skirt. “Locked my innocent son up and let that crazy man go. No different from what we left behind.” She threw her hands up in the air and sobbed. “Oh Lord, have mercy.”

Nineteen

T
HUMP. THUMP. THUMP. SARAH BOLTED FROM A
DEEP
sleep and shivered in the frigid cold of February. The loud rapping on the thin wooden door awakened her. Her feet stuck to the frost on the floor as she ran to the narrow window and pulled back the heavy canvas sheeting. She blinked hard at the sight of Colonel Septimus Black and wondered what he wanted with them at this early hour. She grabbed a stiff, blue dress, petticoat and apron from a hook and dressed quickly. After washing her face in a basin of icy water, she rolled her hair up with a long ribbon and tied a kerchief over it. She hurried to the kitchen where Grandmother was folding laundry.

Gossip about the single colonel poured through Birchtown like warm syrup. He had his admirers and, of course, his critics. Some said because of his refusal to stand up for the indentured servants when they sought his help in challenging the laws in Roseway that he sold out the Birchtowners. More than a few accused him of cheating them out of their rations. There were those who said he liked the young girls a little too much. Others thought him more of a peacock, strutting about, showing off because he was the newly named Birchtown magistrate and because he had a nice home and garden.

Grandmother insisted he was just getting his rightful due, not unlike white folks. She dismissed the bitter gossips, saying they should feel proud that one of their own was doing so well. As head of the Black Pioneer Company, the colonel helped find work for the skilled tradesmen — the caulkers, carpenters, rope-makers, sailmakers, boat builders, millers, shoemakers, tailors, gardeners, cooks and others — by supporting the proposals from the military and magistrates of Roseway to create work. He drew up petitions to get their land surveyed. He distributed food and clothing and often kept them from a whipping by sending petitions for compassion to the magistrates.

“Oh yes. These folks can pull you down quicker than a jackal can wrestle an antelope to the ground. Oh my, calling the poor man a traitor to his race, saying he be supporting the white folks, all for trying to raise himself and us up out of the squalor. Lord, they should look at themselves. The desperate riff raff would all steal a louse from a dog's back, if no one be looking.” Not that Grandmother supported stealing, but she hated the gossip of sinners. She looked at him and flashed a kindly smile. After all, to sweeten the pie, he was single and book smart, just the young man for Sarah, in her estimation.

Colonel Black bit into a small flat piece of skillet cake served on one of the good plates. Sarah sat opposite, understanding she was to be seen and not heard. She had summed him up as cold hearted at the indentures' meeting months earlier, but she liked the tea-brown skin, the freshly shaved face and the crisp Pioneer jacket that bore neither a stain nor a tear.

“So glad you come by, Mister,” Lydia said. “We don't get much company out here.” Her face was all smiles and her voice was sweet butter.

“Why thank you, Ma'am. I heard the news about your son. I understand that they are holding him for the murder of Mr. MacLeod. Can this be true?”

“Yes, it is. I hope you know that Fortune did not kill Mr. MacLeod. He's a good man.”

“He is that. As you know, he served in one of the units I commanded. He was a good soldier. I will use my influence, Ma'am, to petition the court on his behalf. I cannot promise that it will do any good, but I can try. Justice is a cruel master most of the time.”

“I hope my boy gets justice. That's all I want.”

“It's all we can hope for,” he said. He leaned back from the table and smiled. “I meant to come by earlier, to tell you folks about the new school.”

“New school?”

“Yes Ma'am. Our children need to be educated. So few of us can read and write. I believe an education can help us find our rightful place. The associates of the Late Dr. Thomas Bray, a Church of England charity, have provided us with a free school. As long as the aid comes, we can keep the school going.”

Sarah listened carefully to his moving words. They were soft and charming. He was a talker, just like the people said.

Lydia said, “I wish I had some learning. I got papers I would like to be able to read myself.”

“Well, Ma'am, there is not much I can do for you, but the children …”

The colonel watched Lydia move to the fire pit, wondering if the old woman understood what he was saying. She came with the teapot a second time.

“There is a lot of work ahead of us. The promises the British made to us must be honoured. There are laws here that need to be changed. We must demand to be equal citizens in this colony. The war is not over, Ma'am. It's just that now we must arm ourselves with words instead of weapons.”

Goose bumps dotted Sarah's arms. She knew what wanting to read had brought the slaves who dared to defy the law on the plantation. Was the colonel insane to suggest former slaves should get an education? Maybe folks would be too scared to consider such a thing. She shook her head. The very idea of going to school seemed unnatural.

“It sounds impossible, but this is not a dream. Mr. Winterbottom of the Bray Associates has assured me that they are determined to educate Negroes in America and the Bahamas. His members have been hard at work soliciting money and supplies. I am proud to say that we are now ready to begin this mission right here in Birchtown.”

Unable to hold her tongue, Sarah stood up and said, “It's hard to believe we are to be encouraged to get an education.”

Colonel Black patted his mouth and continued, “You are not alone in thinking this, Sarah. It's taken me some time to convince the community that this is a good thing.”

Lydia spoke up, “The old ways have a charm on us. Yes, they do.” She scratched her head, for she was thinking of how the past held a grip on her. “Mister, are you looking to see if Sarah can go to school?”

“The students must be aged five to eleven, so she does not qualify as a student. By the way, how old a girl is she?” He cast his steely eyes on Sarah, taking in the full length of her where she stood by the window.

“Seventeen,” Sarah answered softly, feeling uncomfortable when the colonel's gaze lingered.

“Sarah didn't get much schooling, Mister, only what her mama taught her.” Lydia paused before continuing. “But she's a smart girl, just as quick as a whip. She can read a little and counts her numbers off. As for me, I can count to ten.”

“Well now,” the colonel said. “Perhaps, Sarah, you might assist me with instructing the younger children.”

“She's indentured, but maybe we could work something out,” Lydia said.

“It would be a shame, Ma'am, for her to miss this chance to learn and grow.”

“Yes, yes. It would be a blessing.” Lydia laid back her head and chuckled as her chins rolled like waves. “More molasses cake and tea, Mister?”

“No thank you. I was not expecting cake in these hard times.”

Sarah smiled. What if education could make a difference? Being a servant held little promise for one so independent. She had not thought about teaching. It seemed like a good beginning.

Colonel Black said, “Education is a key. There is no telling what you can do once you learn to read and write. They are necessary tools.”

Sarah could not argue with that, but she was not thoroughly convinced. She said, “Do you think an education will make us full citizens of the colony, Colonel Black?”

“I can say that it allows me to have a better life than most. Being a Negro, well I am a long way from being equal. The law and attitudes limit me. That is why I fight for education. With education, we can fight against those things and hopefully it will bring about change. It has brought respect in some quarters and a steady income.” He looked down and his eyes squeezed together. “My position as an overseer has caused some in Birchtown to resent me. If the people backed me, I could do more.”

“Let them talk. This learning … it's a good thing.”

When Sarah returned to the table, Colonel Black took her hand, and gently rolling his fingers around in hers, he said, “No need to worry, Sarah. You are right to be concerned about how this will affect our relationship with the white community. Sure people have fears and rightly so, but this is progress and some folks cannot handle change. They will fight back any way they can.”

Sarah slipped her hand from his. What Colonel Black said was beginning to make sense and her doubt softened.

“There is always an angry mob of men roaming about looking to destroy things and cause trouble. However, don't forget to look at the kind folks who have no part in all the violence. Education is a good thing. The school will soon be ready.”

“Hallelujah. This place needs something besides another meeting house.”

“Yes, Ma'am. It's a joyful day. Will you give your consent for Sarah to work with me?”

“I sure will. I never thought this day would come. The folks up in Glory must be rolling in their feather beds. Oh Lord, I cannot believe slaves will be getting learning with the white folks' blessing.”

Colonel Black extended his hand to Lydia. He put his arms around Sarah and said, “I will see you in five days. There will be a small sum of money each month for your efforts.”

Grandmother stood at the window and watched as he drove away. “Look at that,” she grinned. “That mister. He has a new carriage and a shiny, black gelding. This learning, I know you're afraid and so am I, but don't you live your life bowing down, staying in the shadows, all bottled up, like I have. You go to that school and learn all you can.” She placed her hand on Sarah's face and stroked it gently. “You be a bird. Soar high and as far as you can and I'll be right here looking on.”