“This here mongrel will hang here all night. If one of you even thinks about going near him, I will put you up in his place.” That said, Clark turned around and nodded to the two men holding torches and all walked off toward the main house.
There was no movement for a few moments, it was only when the frogs and crickets started chirping once more, did some of the men start to move away. Slowly, everyone else moved away from Thomas’s body, going quietly to their homes. There were no cooking fires that night, all was quiet and subdued. No whispers, no talking, nothing but total silence. No one had the stomach for living. Matilda walked over to Ida, as though in a trance and took Patina home.
Mary turned and walked to the bushes and promptly vomited. The spasms pulled at her stomach causing her to moan in pain. She felt the cool hand of her mother and felt water being fed into her dry, numb lips. Mary barely remembered being pulled along with her mother into the cabin.
Ida gave her daughter a bit more water and wrapped Mary in her arms and rocked her late into the night. Ida’s lips moving in silent appeal, asking God to take His mighty vengeance on Clark. Mary woke several times during the long night, crying in her sleep. Ida held her tight and together they found oblivion in sleep. It was a terrible night for Ida, her heart raw with hurt and sorrow for Mary. She loved Mary so much and hated for the child to see such cruelty and violence. It was the way life was for slaves, they knew nothing else.
Dawn came too quickly and soon Ida was up fixing a quick breakfast for Mary and herself, cold cornbread and milk. She ignited a small cup filled with cooking grease, a wick of wool hanging down. The soft light illuminated her face as she looked down on her daughter. She let Mary sleep a bit longer, knowing her child had many nightmares during the night.
“Lawd, watch over my baby. And that poor soul, young Thomas.” Ida whispered softly. The distant sky was tinged pink and Ida could hear the other slaves rousting and preparing for a new day. She shook Mary awake and gave her a tin of warm milk and some cornbread. Ida fried up some potatoes and onions with a bit of okra and served that to Mary as well. Around her, it was quiet. No one was talking.
Ida and Mary stepped out of the cabin and looked around at the other slaves, who were coming out as well. No one wanted to look over at Thomas, but they had to. Thomas’ body still hung from the pole, the blood had dried and caked on his back. The drone of many flies buzzing around him, on his face, his back and around his heels filled the quiet morning air. His eyes stared vacantly into space. Thomas was unnaturally still; everyone knew he was dead. They also knew he would be left up there to rot. His sorrows and his pain were over now. They had their own suffering still ahead of them.
As though of one mind, the large group turned and started walking to the fields, as the morning bell tolled its command. Sadness was palatable, like a living thing, marching its way down the road. No one talked that day; no one hummed, nor whispered or sang, no one gossiped or laughed. It was silent homage to their brethren; he had gone to glory, free from earthly shackles. All knew Thomas sat by Jesus and knew his pains were eased. His joy restored.
Mr. Clark rode his big bay up and down the fields; the only noise was the wind that blew across the crops and the sound of the horse’s hoofs. It was as if he were the only living thing on earth. Clark felt a deep unease, it tingled through his body. He felt shivers run through his lanky frame. His watery eyes scanned over the men and women in the field, watching their every action. He could not fault them for their work, they moved like a well-oiled machine. His hand lay on his old musket that rested across his lap. Clark’s eyes darted from one dark face to another. All were blank, no one looked up. The fine hairs lifted on his body. Some antediluvian sense told him to go carefully.
Lester Clark didn’t pick on anyone that day, he seemed to sense the tension and his instincts cautioned him to be still. Riding up and down the land, he watched his charges. But said nothing. Only the hum of cicadas in the tree line and the constant squabbling of birds filled the dusty air. When the long day was through, he went to Thomas and cut the insect covered body down. Goose bumps covered his body, Clark could feel the hatred, as though a living, breathing thing. It radiated off the people near him. He ordered several of the men to bury the body. Then went to his own cabin, away from the malevolent hate, which nipped at his heels.
Life went on, and no other slaves tried to run away. Mary and Patina were sent out with Dark Henry to hoe the corn, and pull weeds. Henry was downcast, his friend, Theo, had been sent off to school in some faraway place. Mary and Patina were also tasked with pulling the fat worms off the corn stalks, putting the wriggling things into an old pail. Mary like the feel of the wiggling worms, as they tickled her fingers. Dark Henry only grinned and rolled his eyes at her antics; he was far too old and dignified for such nonsense.
The seasons crept along and the
