Which Way Freedom by Joyce Hansen

Which Way Freedom by Joyce Hansen

Author:Joyce Hansen
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Bloomsbury Publishing
Published: 1986-03-25T16:00:00+00:00


Eight

When de War begin dey carried Young Marster off … and

dey sent me to wait on him…. Colonel Farrabow …

told us to go to the breastworks and work.

George Rogers, ex-slave

From Voices from Slavery

Easter let go of the sack, and Obi stared while Buka rose stiffly from the ground. A man with a long, thick, hay-colored beard and a slouch hat like the one Wilson wore approached them.

Three others, one of them black, followed. Obi’s heart raced as Buka steadied himself, placing his gnarled hand on the tree.

“Caught us some big rabbits, boys,” the man with the beard said, grinning.

“Never know what you might catch in these woods, Corporal,” a tall, skinny man replied. He wore a straw hat with a wide brim.

Obi stood up, drawing closer to Buka.

“Bet they runaways, Corporal Jameson,” said a youthful looking fellow. He had pale blue eyes and thick yellow hair. “We give ’em back to their owners, maybe get some money for ’em.”

Except for the black man, the rest of them laughed at the yellow-haired boy. “Don’t be stupid, Simon,” Corporal Jameson said. “We got a war to fight.”

The black man said nothing. He was tall, with a large frame and a round, tan-colored face. He wore overalls, straw hat, and carried two croaker sacks and a rifle. One of the sacks bulged as if it contained a couple of rabbits.

“We not runaways, suh.” Buka spoke calmly to Jameson, who seemed to be the leader of the group.

“What you doin’ in these woods, then, old man? Huntin’?”

Obi glanced at Easter, who kept her head lowered. He felt like a little bird he’d seen once, flapping its useless wings against a raging storm.

Obi guessed that they were soldiers because they called the bearded one Corporal, but he wasn’t sure. These men, with their light-brown trousers, shirts, and different hats, were sloppily dressed.

Then he noticed that the young boy named Simon wore a soft, grey cap. He recognized it—maybe they were Confederate soldiers. Buka, like an actor, changed his tone of voice. “Suh, we ain’t no runaways,” he said humbly, addressing Corporal Jameson again.

“We let the Colonel figure out whether you runaways or not,” Corporal Jameson said. He pushed Easter in front of him. “Boy, you walk ahead of me,” he ordered.

Least the disguise workin’, Obi thought.

“Smith,” Jameson said to the skinny man, “you get behind that tall one.” He pointed to Obi.

Obi studied the black man who walked next to Smith. For a moment, Obi thought the man looked at him with sympathy.

Jameson moved Easter quickly along. Obi reached down and quickly picked up the sack that Easter had left.

“Gimme that,” Smith demanded.

Snatching the sack from Obi, Smith pulled out the shotgun. “We better show this to the Colonel,” he said to Simon.

Simon pushed Buka ahead of him and Buka stumbled. Obi winced when Simon poked Buka in his back with his rifle. Without thinking, he pushed the soldier aside and clasped his hand around Buka’s arm. “He old. He can’t move fast,” he said angrily.



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