Ida and Liza exchanged a smile that only mothers can. Mary’s laugh was a joyous thing and was better than any music known to man. Both women sat talking low until the late hours of the night. Liza braided Ida’s long hair, they gossiped about the other plantations and about their own. Each rubbed the others hands with a butter balm, to ease the aches of the winter. They heard someone singing, a favorite tune among the young men.
Mary had fallen asleep; doll cradled to her small chest, boots still on. Ida didn’t have the heart to make her take them off. She walked over and pulled the faded quilts up around her child. Liza stayed that night, crawling into bed with Ida and Mary. It was warm and snug. Their soft murmurs a gentle susurrus over the sleeping child. It was a peaceful Christmas for all on the Anderson farm.
The days past swiftly, and the New Year had come and gone. The cold winter days were spent inside by the warm fire, sewing, and knitting with a hefty amount of gossip thrown into the mix. It was a time to relax and enjoy the light workload, to enjoy family and coo over the babies. A time to prepare themselves for the coming spring, with its backbreaking eventuality. It was life.
Mary woke up abruptly to anguished filled screams in the predawn morning. Ida was up and out of bed, hurrying to the door. Mary pulled on her shift and put on her stockings and boots, following close behind her mother. Bethy was screaming loudly, holding onto her only child Ellis, her arms wrapped tightly around his slender body. Clark had the boy’s arm, pulling him along, nearly wrenching the limb from the boy’s shoulder socket.
Ida saw Liza and ran over to her. Liza was wrapped in a blanket, warding off the February wind. Matilda had Patina wrapped in a blanket, clutched to her body. She moved over to Ida and Liza, her face lined with fear.
“Lawd have mercy, they is takin’ the children ta auction off.” Liza’s rough voice filled with sorrow and trepidation. In the growing light, Liza’s face had taken on an ashen, gray color, the lines of her countenance cut deeply, mirroring those around her. Ida grabbed Mary and Patina, sending both girls back into the cabin, wanting them well out of sight of the sinister Clark. Matilda held onto Liza, whimpering.
Bethy’s loud screeching filled the cold morning air, the woman was hysterical as she pulled at her eight-year-old. Ellis was terrified, his dark eyes rolled into the back of his head, his horrific screams matching his mother’s in volume and ferocity. Clark kicked at Bethy, knocking her down to the cold ground and jerked the child with brutal force. Clark hauled the child to a wagon, waiting by the main house. Two slaves stood shivering by the wagon, their heads down, wretched for their part of this terrible deed. It didn’t happen often, but when it did, all hell broke loose.
Clark walked back to the cabins and went to several other homes, ruthlessly dragging children from their warm confines, their mothers screaming after them. The yard pandemonium, filled with earsplitting cries from the women and men, howling in agony for their children. Their precious children were to be sold to strangers, never to be seen again. Some of the women lay prostrate on the cold hard ground, shrieking, falling into the void of madness.
Clark walked up to Ida, her heart squeezed with fear and anxiety.
“Fetch that get of yours; send her up to the main house.” He belted out, his voice nasty and devoid of humanity. Ida stood frozen to the spot; her heart paralyzed with terror. Clark shoved her roughly, toward her cabin. His last words eased her mind, “She ain’t to be sold ya stupid sow, mistress wants her company while she’s in Savannah.” He walked off with three more children in tow.
Ida walked on shaky legs, she didn’t know if she could believe Clark or not, he was a sneaky frog spawn of the devil. She stepped blindly over women, rolling around in the cold dirt, crying plaintively for their lost babies. Warm tears slid down Ida’s face, her heart beating like a drum in her chest. She wiped at her eyes and went into the cabin, she found Mary sitting in bed, clutching her cornhusk doll and Patina, tears shimmering on her lashes. She hurried over to Mary, her hands clutching at her daughter.
“Child, boss man wants you ta go with him. He say the missus want you ta go with them ta Savannah. I don’t know iffin’ it’s a trick. Honey, if they tries ta sell you, remember that I loves you more than my own life. You is the most precious one ta me.” Ida whispered, her heart breaking. She inhaled, taking in the scent of her daughter, perhaps for the last time. Matilda came in to take Patina away, weeping as she went.
Ida pulled Mary too her and crushed her daughter in a terrific hug. Ida tried to gulp down the sobs that threatened to overtake her; she didn’t want to alarm Mary more than she had to. Her body was shaking uncontrollably as she wrapped Mary in a blanket, making sure she would be warm for the trip. On rubbery legs, Ida walked her daughter to
