After the whipping, the unconscious man was taken down from the bloody pole and put into one of the cabins. Bethy and Old Bitsy tended the unlucky man’s back with cool water and some herbs. Ginny and Callie prepared the clean rags for Old Bitsy, laying them out neatly. Old Bitsy put lard on the bloody raw back and wrapped it with clean rags, binding the young man tightly. Thomas was never allowed back into the house and would be sent to the fields to work for his crime.
Thomas was never to stand straight again, his back healed and the skin pulled tight, causing him to stand hunched over. Though Thomas was a young man, he was stooped, as though ancient. He had to bear the constant pain, his muscles pulling against their forced posture. At night, his sorrowful moans drifted across the slave quarters. Mary felt sorry for him, but there was nothing she could do for him.
One morning Mary and Ida walked with the other slaves in single file towards the fields, it was still dark and cool. They all heard a commotion of dogs, men and horses. A slave had run away and the men were heading out to find him. Mary heard whispering around her and soon learned it was young Thomas who had run away. Fear curled up inside her belly, like a snake waiting to strike, it lay heavy and cold. Mary shivered, but not from the cool morning.
Everyone knew what happened to runaways. Many were beaten nearly to death, while others were mutilated, ensuring they could never run again. Mary knew like the rest; Thomas could not survive another beating and she hoped and prayed the young man would find his way north. Now and then, a slave was hung as warning to other slaves who might have the same idea, but slaves were too valuable a commodity to kill outright. Those unlucky few that were hung were left to rot on the rope, only coming down as bits and pieces fell from the corpse. All heard about the lucky few who had made it all the way north to freedom. Word filtered slowly back to them and gave some hope of a better life elsewhere.
Ida grabbed Mary by the shoulders and faced her around.
“Keep your eyes on the ground. There ain’t nothin’ we can do to help that boy. God knows we wish we could, but there ain’t.”
Mary nodded and looked down to the ground and kept walking toward the field. Patina’s hand reached over and grabbed onto Mary’s hand. They could not help poor Thomas; they could not even help themselves. Walking numbly in front of her mother, Mary thought of the horrible punishment Thomas would get if he were caught and once more sent a prayer up, that he would make it to safety and freedom. Her young heart was full of hope.
By dusk, the tired group made their way back to their cabins; they could hear the dogs baying in the distance. Dread fell over the men and women like a pall of thick smoke, choking the hope from them. Thomas had been caught and they were bringing him back. Mary didn’t quite understand what the grownups knew until they reached home. There she saw several white men from the area, the patrol, sitting astride their horses.
The dogs were still barking and running around in circles. Mary didn’t see Thomas anywhere and hope soared in her small heart. Then she saw Master Anderson coming out of the main house and walk up to the men on horseback. She watched as the white men spoke in low voices, then when John Anderson looked up the road, Mary followed his gaze with her eyes.
There on horseback, was Clark. Behind Clark was a rope that had been attached to a filthy bundle of rags. To Mary’s dismay and horror, she realized it was Thomas. Ida pulled Mary behind her, “Child, member your place, before massa sees you lookin’ his way. You betta keep that head down. This ain’t something a young girl should see. Ain’t none of us should endure this.” Fear tinged Ida’s voice, making it rough.
“I’s scared mamma, what’s gonna happen ta Thomas?” Mary asked, her voice quavering with anxiety, barely audible.
“Child, that ain’t no never mind ta you. Get ta totin’ that firewood.” Ida said and pushed her daughter to the back of the cabin to gather wood for the night’s fire and out of sight. Ida wanted her daughter out of the way for what was to come. Children didn’t need to see such things. Adults didn’t either. What white folks did to the runaway slave was merciless, one could only hope for a swift death for the tragic and unfortunate soul.
The dogs had quieted down and the men were pulling Thomas up before Master Anderson. His voice was low and no one could hear what he was saying to Thomas or Clark. Everyone busied themselves, but watched covertly from the corners of their eyes. No one spoke as they went about their evening chores. There was a breathless hush of melancholic anticipation that hung in the air. Something bad was going to happen. Ida could smell it as if it were a fug off the manure pile.
Ida watched Clark drag Thomas along as he walked toward the cabins. Thomas was bloody from head to toe. The rope around his wrists cut deeply and the flesh was torn down to the bone. Snot was mixed with tears, blood and dirt as it ran down Thomas’ swollen face. Thomas
