Isaac last year … just before Mama died.”
“She died then?” I caught myself visualizing a woman my age dying, even though I knew that was wrong. But still, the woman must have died fairly young. “I’m sorry,” I said. “She tried to help me.”
“She helped lot of folks,” said Isaac. “She used to treat this little no- good bastard better than his own people treated him.” He kicked Rufus hard in the side.
I winced and wished I could move Rufus out of his reach. “Alice,” I said, “wasn’t Rufus a friend of yours? I mean … did he just grow out of the friendship or what?”
“Got to where he wanted to be more friendly than I did,” she said. “He tried to get Judge Holman to sell Isaac South to keep me from marrying him.”
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“You’re a slave?” I said to Isaac, surprised. “My God, you’d better get out of here.”
Isaac gave Alice a look that said very clearly,
“Isaac, she’s all right. She got a whipping once for teaching a slave how to read. Tom Weylin was the one whipped her.”
“I want to know what she’s going to do when we leave,” said Isaac. “I’m going to stay with Rufus,” I told him. “When he comes to, I’m
going to help him home—as slowly as possible. I’m not going to tell him where you went because I won’t know.”
Isaac looked at Alice, and she tugged at his arm. “Let’s go!” she urged. “But …”
“You can’t whip everybody! Let’s go!”
He seemed on the verge of going when I said, “Isaac, if you want me to, I can write you a pass. It doesn’t have to be to where you’re really going, but it might help you if you’re stopped.”
He looked at me with no trust at all, then turned and walked away without answering.
Alice hesitated, spoke softly to me. “Your man went away,” she said. “He waited a long time for you, then he left.”
“Where did he go?”
“Somewhere North. I don’t know. Mister Rufe knows. You got to be careful, though. Mister Rufe gets mighty crazy sometimes.”
“Thank you.”
She turned and followed Isaac, leaving me alone with the unconscious Rufus—alone to wonder where she and Isaac would go. North to Penn- sylvania? I hoped so. And where had Kevin gone? Why had he gone any- where? What if Rufus wouldn’t help me find him? Or what if I didn’t stay in this time long enough to find him? Why couldn’t he have waited …?
4
I knelt down beside Rufus and rolled him over onto his back. His nose was bleeding. His split lip was bleeding. I thought he had probably lost a few teeth, but I didn’t look closely enough to be sure. His face was a
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lumpy mess, and he would be looking out of a couple of black eyes for a while. All in all, though, he probably looked worse off than he was. No doubt he had some bruises that I couldn’t see without undressing him, but I didn’t think he was badly hurt. He would be in some pain when he came to, but he had earned that.
I sat on my knees, watching him, first wishing he would hurry and regain consciousness, then wanting him to stay unconscious so that Alice and her husband could get a good start. I looked at the stream, thinking that a little cold water might bring him around faster. But I stayed where I was. Isaac’s life was at stake. If Rufus was vindictive enough, he could surely have the man killed. A slave had no rights, and certainly no excuse for striking a white man.
If it was possible, if Rufus was in any way still the boy I had known, I would try to keep him from going after Isaac at all. He looked about eighteen or nineteen now. I would be able to bluff and bully him a little. It shouldn’t take him long to realize that he and I needed each other. We would be taking turns helping each other now. Neither of us would want the other to hesitate. We would have to learn to co-operate with each other—to make compromises.
“Who’s there?” said Rufus suddenly. His voice was weak, barely audible.
“It’s Dana, Rufe.”
“Dana?” He opened his swollen eyes a little wider. “You came back!” “You keep trying to get yourself killed. I keep coming back.” “Where’s Alice?”
“I don’t know. I don’t even know where we are. I’ll help you get home, though, if you’ll point the way.”
“Where did she go?” “I don’t know, Rufe.”
He tried to sit up, managed to raise himself about six inches before he fell back, groaning. “Where’s Isaac?” he muttered. “That’s the son-of-a- bitch I want to catch up with.”
“Rest awhile,” I said. “Get your strength back. You couldn’t catch him now if he was standing next to you.”
He moaned and felt his side gingerly. “He’s going to pay!” I got up and walked toward the stream.
“Where are you going?” he called. I didn’t answer.
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“Dana? Come back here! Dana!”
I could hear his increasing desperation. He was hurt and alone except for me. He couldn’t even get up, and I seemed to be abandoning him. I wanted him to experience a little of that fear.
“
I dug the washcloth out of my denim bag, wet it, and took it back to him. Kneeling beside him, I began wiping blood from his face.
“Why didn’t you tell me that’s where you were going?” he said petu- lantly. He was panting and holding his side.
I watched him, wondering how much he had really grown up. “Dana, say something!”
“I want you to say something.”
He squinted at me. “What?” I was leaning close to him, and I caught a whiff of his breath when he spoke. He had been drinking. He didn’t seem drunk, but he had definitely been drinking. That worried me, but there was nothing I could do about it. I didn’t dare wait until he was com- pletely sober.
“I want you to tell me about the men who attacked you,” I said. “What men? Isaac …”
“The men you were drinking with,” I improvised. “They were strangers—white men. They got you drinking, then tried to rob you.” Kevin’s old story was coming in handy.
“What in hell are you talking about? You know Isaac Jackson did this to me!” The words came out in a harsh whisper.
“All right, Isaac beat you up,” I agreed. “Why?” He glared at me without answering.
“You raped a woman—or tried to—and her husband beat you up,” I said. “You’re lucky he didn’t kill you. He would have if Alice and I hadn’t talked him out of it. Now what are you going to do to repay us for saving your life?”
The bewilderment and anger left his face, and he stared at me blankly. After a while, he closed his eyes and I went over to rinse my washcloth. When I got back to him, he was trying—and failing—to stand up. Finally, he collapsed back panting and holding his side. I wondered whether he was hurt more than he appeared to be—hurt inside. His ribs, perhaps.
I knelt beside him again and wiped the rest of the blood and dirt from his face. “Rufe, did you manage to rape that girl?”
He looked away guiltily.
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“Why would you do such a thing? She used to be your friend.” “When we were little, we were friends,” he said softly. “We grew up.
She got so she’d rather have a buck nigger than me!”
“Do you mean her husband?” I asked. I managed to keep my voice even.
“Who in hell else would I mean!”
“Yes.” I gazed down at him bitterly. Kevin had been right. I’d been foolish to hope to influence him. “Yes,” I repeated. “How dare she choose her own husband. She must have thought she was a free woman or something.”
“What’s that got to do with it?” he demanded. Then his voice dropped to almost a whisper. “I would have taken better care of her than any field hand could. I wouldn’t have hurt her if she hadn’t just kept saying no.”
“She had the right to say no.” “We’ll see about her rights!”
“Oh? Are you planning to hurt her more? She just helped me save your life, remember?”
“She’ll get what’s coming to her. She’ll get it whether I give it to her or not.” He smiled. “If she ran off with Isaac, she’ll get plenty.”
“Why? What do you mean?”
“She did run off with Isaac, then?”
“I don’t know.
