Princess Ces'alena (34 page)

Chester Sands cursed his luck as he felt the welts on his cheek, wincing as his finger tips tested the rawness there. Finally the wagon was moving; he hadn’t counted on the boy fighting him as he did
. ‘The sonofabitch fought like a wild animal.’
He thought angrily. He had scratches, bruises and bites in places he had no idea the boy had reached. He also sported a busted lip and winced again as his finger tips tested the rate of its swelling. “Goddamn that boy was strong!” He exclaimed; he finally ended up knocking him out by hitting him with the butt of his gun before he could things under control.

He looked back in the buckboard at the unconscious boy, now chained and shackled. A spot of blood streamed from the gash he made from the blow. “Shit!” He spat “I sure hope you okay boy, you’ll do me no good dead or half-witted.” He grumbled, running his hand through his hair, realizing he’d lost his hat in the struggle. Shaking his greasy, sandy brown, thinning hair, he winced as his face began burning and aching. It wasn’t much of a face to begin with; a case of smallpox that he almost didn’t survive left it pock marked with deep pores and craters. The flat nose, and small eyes set too close together with a bushy mustache that connected with his sideburns didn’t offer any improvement either. “You boys had better pick up your steps, I got to get a move on here, this here boy done delayed me enough, I-…” He stopped in mid-sentence when he heard a faint scream, a calling out to him from behind. Bringing his team to a stop, he turned to see what was going on now.

“Stop, please…please stop…please, you can’t take him… wait!!!”

“What in hell?” He muttered as Lena came running up behind the wagon. One hand held the underside of her tremendous girth, and the other held up her skirt. She was sweating profusely; with straggles of hair escaping the abundant chignon on top of her head; moving at an amazing speed for someone in her condition.

Lena’s body protested the running she forced herself to do, she ignored the increased pressure to her abdomen, fighting not to double over from the aches and pains that were shooting through her system. Fierce determination born of desperation to get her child back would cause her to endure walking through fire if need be. Dominant above all was that Mikey was in that man’s wagon, and she had to get him out. Catching up to it; she gave no mind or glimpse to the chained men behind, she needed to grab a hold of the wagon before her legs gave out.

Her breathing was labored and her head throbbed from the heat as she held on tight gasping to breath; praying for more strength not to pass out as dizziness threatened to send her down. She shook her head to clear it, when her sights set on her unconscious son, and the blood running from the open gash on his head. “What have you done – what have you – done to my son!!”

“What the hell do you mean, what have I done to him, who the hell you?”

“My God …look what you did to him, look what you did!!! Mikey!! Wake up!! Please baby…wake up!!” She cried, brushing the hair from his brow; staring at the bloody gash through rushing tears.

“Hell he will, get your hands off’em!”

“Mikey…its mama baby…its mama…please wake up - pleeeease!!” She screamed at him, trying to shake him to.

“I said take your hands off him!!” Chester yelled jumping down from the wagon, running up to her, snatching her away. He couldn’t believe his eyes, but he’d heard her…this was the boy’s mother. Lena drew back from him, her eyes flooding as she swiped them to look Chester Sands in the face. She had to make him understand what a mistake he was making.

“Please - please listen to me! You don’t understand…this is a mistake! This is my son…he is not for sale! His father would never sell him!! He is not for sale! Please believe me – wait for him – stay here and wait for his father, he will tell you!!!” She cried desperately, sobs choking her, exhaustion made her dizzy but she would stay on her feet, to assure it, she grabbed hold of him, pleading with him.

“No! Not signed by my master you don’t! He never sales his slaves! He would not sale his son!! My son is free!” She screamed hysterically.

“Then you better take that up with the master and his wife, the boy is mine. I own him, he my property…now if you don’t mind, I’d like to be on my way.” He informed her; growing angry at the whole scene. He turned grabbed hold of his wagon bench and went to lever himself up.

“No no no no! Please listen!! Maynard Ramsey Webster is master here! Wait for him to return before you do this!! Wa-a-ai-it for hi-i-i-im!” She screamed, her arms and fist shaking as the horror unfolded. “I beg you, I beg you listen to me, he cannot be sold – he is free!!!”

He wasn’t listening - growing more desperate, Lena grabbed his shirt and suspenders with both hands, pulling him back with all of her might, part growl, part scream, “Nooooo – nooooo!”

He stumbled back to the ground on his feet and spun shoving her from him. “Nigger get your hands off me!!” He shouted indignantly.

“Just give me -
my son
!” She begged panting and breathless. “Please give’em to me — he’s my son!!” She went on…turning once again to the back of the wagon. “Mike-e-e-ey!! Wa-a-a-ke up!!! You must wake - up!!”

Mikey lay in a darkened state that he had no control over. It was as if he were in a dream drifting…he could hear faint cries of his name now and then, but there was pain too. A dull throb, he moaned; hearing his name being called urgently.

Again Chester, shaking his head boarded his wagon deciding to ride off as fast as he could. Lena was not letting that wagon leave that road with her son in it, once again, she ran up to Chester, “Noooo – you’re not taking my son – from me!!” She yanked and tugged to bring him down.

“Why you crazy-…” He bit into his bottom lip from anger, too mad to finish the sentence he turned to kick Lena away when she grabbed his leg, held onto it and bit down into the fleshy part of it with all of her might.

“Aaaaaaaaaaaaah – oh God – let goooo!”

She reached up, grabbing the neck part of his shirt and pulled using her body weight to bring him down, he tumbled from the wagon. “I’ah kill you wency – I’ah kill you!!” He lunged to his feet attacking her.

“Mikeeeeey, Mikeeeey, Mikeeeey.” She screamed over and over; clawing blindly at Chester Sands, digging into his flesh refusing to let go.

He tried grabbing her hands after she clawed him, but Lena in a whirl began fighting madly, swinging and pounding him out of control. She was beyond seeing her target, but she felt him there…she felt his flesh as she gouged into it, seeking his eyes, tearing at his flesh, his hair, his ears and lip – her nails like razors peeling his skin raw.

“Goddamn you… goddamn you - aaaaaaaahhh!! Chester yelled as she shredded his face, he began slapping and punching her face and head; Lena started screaming for help.

“Eeeeeeeeee – heeeeelp – pleeeeease!!” Her strength was quickly coming to its end now, her entire body felt like lead. All during her fight, the chained men and boys stood and watched, some crying for this mother, her struggle reminding them of very similar scenes. But chained as they were, there was nothing they could do. For Lena, as hard as she fought, it wasn’t enough, her arms felt too heavy to lift, she could no longer see, blurred or otherwise. One eye was swollen shut, the other catching up to it. The strength to even scream any more was gone. A numbness was taking over her; she let out a low grunt as she lay on the ground, following the second kick to her back followed by blessed blackness.

Chester slowly straightened, gasping to breathe, he was dizzy, his skin bleeding and burning as salt from sweat ran over the raw flesh making them feel as if he’d been set on fire. He had been bitten on the leg, and his hand as well. One of the punches to her mouth offered his fingers to her teeth, and bite she did, unwilling to let go until she’d passed out. His fingers were throbbing, swelling and bleeding – he could barely bend his fingers they were swelling so quickly. He backed away from her sagging with exhaustion; one of his own eyes closing with the swelling. He was worn out and tired, feeling heavy and weighted down. He turned figuring it was finally over, only to see running down the road towards him a sizeable group of slaves, all men and a few boys…all angry.

His heart, which was strained enough, lurched in his chest.

“Jesus Christ…God Almighty…what in the hell have I gotten myself into!?” With fear driving him on, he ran for his wagon, pulling out his rifle and cocked it just as they were at the end of the wagon.

“Hold it right there boys…take another step and I’ll blow the black hides from you!!” He bit out in deadly warning. Jordan stood up front with Henry, they had their arms raised but their attention was on Lena’s still form. The others froze behind motionless, but Leon barreled pass them all straight to her, heedless of Chester Sands rifle.

“Look what he did to Ms Lena!! Look what he done to her!!” He cried rocking in torment as he fell to the ground beside her. Chester was now nervous with so many in front of him, and Leon behind him. He jerked his rifle back and forth between them. “Boy! Make another move like that, I blow ya’yella ass away!!”

Leon looked up at him from the ground, his eyes pink and filled with tears of hatred. “I just wanna see she okay…please!”

“I’on give a damn if she dead! Demon bitch!” He spat, looking back to the men before him.

“Calm down sa’…we don’ mean no harm, sa.” Jordan started, holding his hands before him to ward off any idea that he might try to rush him.

“Well you can beg my fucking pardon, my bruises, bites and eye tell me another story. Never in my whole life have I had as much trouble as with you niggers! I fought a bear cub, and its angry mama, but I be damn if I fight the whole bear clan. I just as soon blow the first to hell!!”

“Now ain’t no cause for that sa’. We mean no harm…this here just some kind of mix up. See…that boy you got…he belong to the masta’-…”

“Not now he don’t…that white dipped nigger mine now! If there be a mix up, it ain’t no concern of mine. Further more, I ain’t about to stand in the middle of the road arguin’ with a group of ignit negras…and that’s that.”

There was a moan from the wagon, followed by the clinking of chains, Mike was moving around and coming to. Jordan hoped that would distract Chester long enough for them to attack. But Chester had been through enough, he wasn’t going for it.

Mike rose to his elbows, his head hung as he tried to steady the swaying of the surface beneath him. His head throbbed and stung from the salty sweat running into it. He could hear voices, it was Jordan’s voice. But he couldn’t figure what was wrong with him; where he was; what was wrong with him. He wanted to answer Jordan, but his tongue felt thick; he could hear what Jordan was saying, but didn’t understand why he was saying it.

“Sa’ just let us get to her - please sa’…she not moving. Please, just let us - see ‘bout her?” He pleaded gently.

‘
Her? Who - her?’
Mike thought groggily; wishing the swimming would stop as he sat up, leaning with his hands to the buckboard. “Jordan?” He called out. His vision was blurred, but he noticed he was outside in a wagon. There were others in it with him. He tried to look over the side, and could see a vague silhouette rocking on the ground over another figure. “Leon? That you? What’s - what’s wrong Leon? What’s wrong?”

“Mikey boy…just – be still now.” Jordan encouraged keeping his eyes on Chester who was growing more and more nervous.

There were too many of them. He might be able to shoot one, but the others would be on him before he could re-load and fire off another shot.

“My head hurt Jordan…my head hurt.”

Tears came to Jordan’s eyes. “You be alright…I’mo get’ya.”

“Oh no you ain’t! You sit down boy…you shut yo’ goddamn mouth!! I’m telling you – one of you niggers gonna die you don’t get back away!!” Chester commanded harshly. The new voice spoken so harshly confused and scared Mikey, he began moving his head trying to see clearly, blinking to clarify his vision. “Jordan?” This call was a frightened one.

“Jus’ be quiet son…jus’ hold tight.”

Mike was trying to figure out who was this man at the end of the wagon. He was talking mean, holding a rifle…slowly…his focus returned, not far behind, came his awareness as to what was going on. The minute his eyes locked on Jordan’s, then to the back of Chester Sands head…he knew. And Jordan knew too that he had to get him.

Because Jordan was the closest thing to a father beside his own, Mike did not hesitate, “Jordan!! Get me out’ah here Jordan, Jordan, get me out’ah here!!” He remembered everything. Katherine being nice; the important papers; and this man telling him he was his now -
his
-
“So come along now boy!”
He began thrashing around in the wagon trying to pull his hands from the chains, and with the reflex response to fright…he wanted his mother.

“Listen to me sa’… you gotta listen. Master Maynard Webster don’t sell his Negroes. He sho’ won’be sellin’ that boy right there – he love that boy sa’ – he love that boy! You got’ta believe me what I say now! Tell’im yah’ll – tell’im Manny won’t sell that boy!!” He ordered those behind him.

All the others spoke in unison, “No sa’ he won’t!!” They called out.

“Mama!!” Mike began looking for her and turned to the side and realized it was Leon there rocking and looking up at him. Then his eyes moved to the figure on the ground.