The Keeping Room by Anna Myers

Author:Anna Myers
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Walker Childrens
Published: 1997-08-17T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Seven

Dear Father,

I am changed. Yes, I am still afraid, hut I am more angry. I have stood beside the gallows and watched our men die.

The slaves are all gone except Cato and Biddy. Cato says they are probably hiding in the woods. When I said to Biddy that I appreciate how she did the right thing and did not run away, she laughed. Then she said, “Master Joey, yo’sure don’t understand very much, not very much a’ tall.”

It is now my habit to rise early. Leaving Mother and the others still sleeping, I slip from our room and head for the upstairs veranda. From there I can see the town. I look each day for some change, something that might give me hope. I notice too the natural things that have always been part of my world but that are more dear to me now that I am a prisoner.

The July sun is already hot. The early morning fog has been burned away except along the Wateree River. There is a cornfield, tall and green. “Carolina corn,” I say, “growing near the river.” I find strength in the corn and the river with its fog.

I do not keep my eyes turned toward the river. Instead I look back toward the town. What I see makes me shiver despite the sun. Five men are being carried up the hill on litters. I know even before I recognize the big scarred guard that the soldiers are victims of smallpox.

The horrible disease is coming toward us. As if I could protect my family, I run back inside. My mother is up now, and she too is watching the procession. I go to stand beside her at the window.

“The little quarters in the back,” I whisper. “That must be where they’re headed.”

“But why? They have not carried other injured men here.” Mother turns then and studies my face. “You know, don’t you, Joey?”

There is no use trying to hide the truth. “Smallpox,” I say.

My mother gasps, but then we are quiet, watching. When she speaks she is calm. “The poor creatures.” She slips her arm through mine. “You must not go near them. Not under any circumstances.”

I nod my agreement, but I have spotted the old soldier who wanted so much to know about his son. His arm hangs over the side of the litter as he is passed under my window. He’s still alive, I think, and still wondering about his boy. I will find it difficult to keep my word to my mother.

Later in the day, I do receive one bit of good news. Euven is indeed coming for lessons. I go to the keeping room, and while I wait for him at the round table I write a letter. The great doors are closed with a British guard posted in front of them outside. Euven will pass through the front door and come down the stairs.

I keep my eyes in that direction and leap to my feet when I see his boots.

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