Glory over Everything: Beyond The Kitchen House(20)

“Shhh,” I say, trying to see past the lantern that Skinner holds up.

“They’s both scrawny!” says the new one.

“Give me three hundred,” says Skinner, “and you can have ’em both.”

“Thomas doesn’t take ’em when they’re that small. Too much trouble. I’ll give you one hundred for the older one.”

“And give me twenty for the runt. You know you can sell him on the way down,” Skinner says. “He’ll bring you twice that.”

“Deal,” says the man, and when he comes over with the rope, I step back and Randall moves with me.

“If I give you my money, can he stay with me?” I ask.

“Let me see how much you got,” the man says.

I unfold the rag that holds my coins, and with a swipe he pockets it. “And now you don’t have none,” he says with a laugh.

“But that’s stealin’!” I say before I can stop myself.

He laughs again. “Sounds to me like you got some educatin’. You one of those mamby-pamby house boys? Won’t take long for Thomas to work that outta you!”

“Can Randall please stay with—” I start, and before I can duck, the man sends his fist at me.

“I don’t wanna hear nothin’ from you after this,” he says.

When I spit out blood, a tooth comes, too, and Randall starts screamin, but I don’t shush him ’cause I’m cryin’ too hard myself.





PART TWO





CHAPTER NINE


1830


James


ON MY RETURN from the event, Robert had the outdoor lamps burning when my carriage drew up to the house, and as usual, he was waiting for me at the front door.

“There is a fire in the library,” he said as he took my greatcoat and hat.

“Any news of Pan?” I asked.

“No, I’m afraid not,” he said, and without further comment, I went to the library, craving the solitude.

“Something hot to drink?” he called after me.

“Go to bed, Robert,” I said, closing the door behind me.

It was past midnight. I went to the familiar chair next to the fire and sank into its worn leather, sighing deeply. This room always gave me comfort. How grateful I was to Robert for anticipating my need for a fire this evening. How I relied on him. I thought of him now brushing down my coat and hat and then finishing up his chores for the night. Lamps and candlesticks would be collected and carried down to the kitchen, where Molly would clean them in the morning. Then, if he hadn’t already, Robert would go for a final assessment of the small parlor where I took my morning meal. There he would make sure that the grate had been cleaned and the logs set for an early-morning fire. He would check to see that the tea table was covered with a linen cloth, the crease set exactly down the center, and in the morning my tray would hold a crystal salt cellar, a porcelain egg cup with a soft-cooked egg, a slice of ham, and next to it, a small cruet of mustard. There would be butter set on ice in the gleaming silver butter dish, and after I spread it on my warm toast, I would clip off the top of the egg and dip the buttered toast into the warm yellow yolk. Then, while I enjoyed my tea and the morning paper, Pan would likely show up to ask some precocious question that would undoubtedly amuse me.

Pan! How accustomed I was to having him here. Robert was my mainstay, the one who established and adhered to a routine that gave me balance, but Pan—Pan was the one who gave me cheer. And where was he now?

I reassured myself that he was resilient enough to look out for himself until he was rescued. After all, he was already twelve, close to the age that I was when Henry found me. I rested my head back and closed my eyes, reviewing my own capabilities at that young age, but all I could recall was how helpless and utterly terrified I had been on my arrival in Philadelphia.


IT TOOK ME weeks to begin to trust Henry. All of my life, Grandmother had instilled in me that Negroes were sly and dangerous and not to be trusted. Now, though, I was not only eating and sleeping next to Henry, I was also relying on him to see to my needs.

His feral way of life was foreign to me, yet he taught me daily survival skills, and by the time my health was fully restored, I was beginning to enjoy the outdoor independent life. Under my grandmother’s roof, I’d had servants to do my bidding, and my most difficult challenge had been to voice a request. Here, with Henry, I was expected to do my share of the work and was soon responsible for gathering the wood and tending the fire. Rather than viewing this as a hardship, I found it stimulating and woke each morning with renewed vigor.

In the early fall, Henry began to bring up the subject of my going into the city to find employment, but I avoided the issue, for the idea of leaving him petrified me. This man had not only saved my life but continued to provide for me, and daily I grew more dependent on him. Then one evening, after we had just finished a satisfying meal of wild onion and rabbit stew, Henry approached the subject again. We sat near the crackling fire, but the night around us had turned cold.

“The snow comin’,” he said, “an’ I got to move out.”

“Where to?”

“I got another place a ways from here, place tighter for the winter.”

I didn’t look at him but shifted closer to the fire. “Can I come with you?” I asked. “I could pay you if you let me stay.”