Gabriel’s stomach burned to think that his former master, Jonathan Ridley, believed he could perpetrate this fraud. Did he mean to take the government’s reimbursement money for freeing slaves he had already manumitted by written agreement? Tales of fraud in connection with the new decree were circulating the town. Others had enriched themselves by this method. Folk who were long ago legally freed through purchase were being called up and claimed by their former masters. It was a circle of viciousness!
Gabriel exhausted a portion of his anger in writing a letter to Reverend Higgins. He had some influence in the town that he exercised on behalf of colored. He was the only white man liable to help them. The agitation threatened to unhinge Gabriel as he tried to keep the situation from the others.
Of course, this evil news would soon be known as any vinegar that is spilled from an overturned jar is known for what it is. It pained Gabriel to imagine how the others would receive the news. And the children! What of them? They were compelled to report for examination! Compelled! If they did not submit themselves, the authorities had leave to come and bring them. From this Gabriel worriedly sought to protect them. Just that! He had pledged to Mary that being free they both would bring free children and keep them free through earnest toil. And now this had come!
His chickens were to be taken up! If not lost or damaged then handled and bandied about, and it hurt him to consider it. He imagined the look in their mother’s eyes—a look that would strike him mortally if it were a bullet. What would Mary think? Gabriel had seen the expression of deep devotion and possession on his wife’s face. This feeling that gives way to fear when the child gains her feet and begins walking away from the nurturing arms. Often he’d seen it in Mary and had felt the same and wondered whether it was so clearly read in his face. Jonathan Ridley would steal the profit of these children when they had never been his bondpersons! They were capriciously in his thrall! No law or edict or promise came out to benefit the colored man.
Disquietude was the enemy of Gabriel Coats’s stomach. He went to the yard and heaved his misery onto the ground yet again.
It had been decreed that slaves residing within the bound-aries of the District of Columbia were free. But this was a stingy and ugly decree, for as a consequence a slave owner was eligible to receive monetary compensation. Eager to beat the six-month deadline for filing a claim, Jonathan Ridley had hired a representative to secure his compensation.
The lie! Aye, there it is! Jonathan Ridley is not entitled to this compensation. Because these people mentioned are free people. These are the people whose freedom had been purchased by Gabriel Coats and his mother. They had worked to pay Jonathan Ridley!
“These daughters—my daughters—are free girls from a free purchased woman, my wife!” Gabriel slammed his fist on the top of his mam’s laundry barrel. It thudded like a sour drum. “Mary’s freedom was secured after purchase at an auction. He has no right to claim that she or her daughters are his bondpeople! They are free-born children!” he exploded.
Still they were mentioned and would be considered and valued for his money! The freedom meant nothing then, for the white masters would make the freedom into slavery just as sweet milk would turn to clabber in the sun.
Ah, sweet milk—sweet girls! Would they turn their innocent eyes on their father as they were led away? Would he stand impotent to help them? What would become of the father protector who could not save a daughter from this humiliation? If he rushed against the man who put a hand on them, would he not risk his own death? And if he resisted physically and put down his life, could he rise from the dead to care for these daughters? Could he then coddle them and train them and give them over to some good and strong husband? Would they not fall into poverty and a life of drudgery without their father? He could not relinquish his daughters’ freedom to support the lie. He would resist this on their behalf and for the other women.
If this lie lived and flourished, then all along the freedom had meant nothing. Ridley could have come at any time and told these lies and taken them away? This was a cold thought that Gabriel had not entertained till now. Had Mary considered this possibility? Oh, what would become of this woman who had placed so much assurance upon the fact that these girls belonged to none but their parents?
Gabriel knew that Mary waited for him upstairs. His brusqueness would put off her questions. He needed to mull before he could explain this tangle to her. He wanted her comfort though. He wanted her to ply his face with kisses but not know what wounds her kisses salved. He would not tell her yet.
Annie returned to her bed and was comforted by the familiar—as always the familiar familiar—the same old same old things. She pulled a quilt to her chin. She lay beneath it and considered her children. Listening to Gabriel and Mary rustling about in their bed, she finally rested.
GABRIEL KEPT THE
brutal document next to his chest. It irritated, yet he was afraid to put it away.
. . . shall report to the offices of Eberly and Co. for inspection and valuation.
When the day was hard upon them and Gabriel was no longer able to bear solitary torment of the decision, he lay out the matter to Mary, Annie, and Ellen.
It was egregious—the deceitfulness of Jonathan Ridley! It proved his worth that he would violate a document to which he had put his hand. Could the Coatses prevail if they challenged him in the court? And if they did so—or even tried to redress—what effect upon the business agreement? This babe, too, they must protect and nurture. Could they all survive if they did not have his leg to stand on?
As Gabriel feared, the impact upon Mary proved the most severe. She clapped her hands against her eyes and wept into her palms as he laid out the travail.
“Husband! Husband! No!” she exclaimed.
Ellen listened and said nothing. Her face was immobile, though dripping water.
Annie became impatient of the crying and begged Mary and Ellen to gain control of their feelings.
“Hush and listen!” she commanded, though her own voice wavered.
“There is the examination to determine a value . . . ,” Gabriel said, his voice trailing off to quiet. Mary’s sniffling continued.
“They have . . . ?” she asked.
“Yes, they have mentioned the babies—the children—as if they were not born free. It is the reason I have kept the news in my chest. Mary, I am sorry for this.” He grasped her shoulders in a steadying gesture and swept her against himself. Mary sobbed with renewed vigor and stood close by the simmering fireplace with her face pressed to Gabriel’s body.
Annie’s face remained dry. She was not indifferent to sorrowing, but she feared to have them all buffeted by these fears and be unable to forge a strategy. Aye! They were in the tow and how would they proceed—how to go forth?
“All he wants is the money.” Annie hit upon the chestnut hard and flat and the nut came—from considering and from knowing Ridley so well. “When he longs for money, he thinks about us. We are his money in the bank. Let us give him money—match what he is liable to get from the government and settle with him.” This was no woman who wasted time with crying. Mary was taken aback at her mother-in-law’s stern practicality.
“Nanny, we cannot match it. We do not have enough for all mentioned,” Gabriel replied.
“Ransom the children then. We will argue Mary because she is no slave of Jonathan Ridley. We will stand upon the paper that says we bought her freedom. You will argue with him. Brother, you and Ellen and I will stand the test,” Annie said, and tossed the pledge as a laurel and looked at him evenly.
“Nanny . . . can we?” he asked haltingly. His mother had said they could if they must. But he further questioned her as if testing the pain of a sore. He pressed her. Could they stand if they must go without Ridley—or against him? She was stalwart in her opinion. She said yes.
“Pup, what makes you doubt me?” she shot at him.
Gabriel wore his good-quality brown frock coat.
“Sir,” Gabriel called out without demur as he entered Ridley’s sitting room. Startled, Jonathan Ridley turned and faced him. It was an affront to be called to by a monkey—though it was his beloved monkey, Gabriel.
That Ridley appeared braced for a challenge was, in itself, an advantage to Gabriel.
“My babes are . . . not yours to claim. We are all put down as your property. This cannot be, sir! You cannot let this proceed!” Gabriel spoke directly to Ridley’s full face, daring to meet the man eye for eye.
Ridley raised his hand and struck Gabriel soundly. He took back his hand quickly as a parent does who chastises more harshly than intended. Ridley was momentarily frightened of his own actions, though Gabriel was not. He stood with his hands clasped at his back and offered his chest and face to Ridley.
Ridley wondered whether he was to be forfeit of his life at Gabriel’s hand. A downtrodden being who once raises his head is liable to chance anything—any bold move. Would Gabriel raise his fist in retaliation—in defense of his pickaninnies? Ridley twitched a bit and controlled himself with great effort.
Gabriel stood his ground and waited until the air in the room became quiet again.
“What you want is money. That is it. What you want is money.” Gabriel’s calm was plainly impudent and aggressive. “Sir, this reimbursement—is to put a brick upon the heads of my children. For my own value I would not flinch to suffer the humiliating examination and valuation. What do I care that a fraud is perpetrated?” At this remark, Jonathan Ridley drew up indignantly and moved as if he meant to flog Gabriel, though he had no whip. “My mother would not flinch either if that were all of it. But by your false testimony, you cause my daughters, who were born as free people, to be examined by a slave trader. These beloved of their parents have had no part in your commerce. My wife! She is not bound to you. They have never been your property. To strip them naked and expose them to the perusal and calculation of a slave trader is abominable, and yet you would make it a feature of their lives for a small sum of money!”
“Ah, you have hit upon it, dear Gabriel!” Jonathan Ridley clapped loudly. “I want the money they are paying.”
“Twice you want to be paid?” Gabriel spoke defiantly but very quietly. The exact measure of Ridley and his wants came clear. “We have money,” he continued. “We will pay to keep the children unspoiled.”
Ridley laughed. “I will accept your offer and more. There is a trader who has made an offer to purchase the girl, Delia, and go south. It is still legal to make this contract, for she will be held in deep south. There is money to be made.”
“Do you traffic in women, sir?” Gabriel controlled himself, but bile rose into his mouth. He swallowed and felt ill, yet remained standing, faced toward Jonathan Ridley.
“Take care!”
“Sir, you must take care,” Gabriel countered. “There is your name to consider,” he said, and took a second blow to his cheek.
“Impudent scoundrel!” Ridley yelled.
“As you say, sir,” Gabriel pronounced, and was poised to receive more blows.
“I traffic in niggers. The trade is lucrative. I will take cash for your mother, your sister, yourself, and the pickaninnies. I will sell off the girl, Delia. Thus, I will relieve you of the trouble of her. It is a simple bargain.”
“Can you not allow one such to raise her head from shame? You propose a moneymaking scheme on the head of this girl?” The words pinched.
“You are above your station,” Ridley replied.
“Do you imperil yours, sir?” Gabriel came back. “Please consider this.” He then turned to go without taking leave from Jonathan Ridley.
“You are an arrogant!” Ridley shouted, and his tone halted Gabriel, who struggled to regain the picture of his beloved chickens and their mother and the others. His wind of confidence and resolve was tested. He fought to put all of their faces back into the forefront of his mind. Delia’s visage, too, appeared before him, and Gabriel rebuked himself for the ease with which he would bargain with her fate. Had he betrayed the girl? Had he been uncaring to an innocent? But he must ransom his own chickens at all cost.
“I will not relinquish that one,” Ridley said.
“Sir, please, for my sister’s sake.”
“She is for the trader. The arrangement is made.”
Delia’s murky situation gave Jonathan Ridley a wedge and he used it. The legality could not be questioned.
“Will you turn her over or will I send a sheriff to arrest her?” Ridley finished.
Gabriel left the rooms. His body was rigid and felt full to bursting with pus. When he got out of the hotel, he walked blindly. How high must you stand up to clear the head? Where is the cooler air—the air fit to cleanse the lungs and pacify the stomach? Gabriel squatted at the lip of an alley on Olive Street and retched.
Many lives are saved because murder at hand is hard to accomplish. Gabriel squatted over a gutter and dreamed of the weapon that would accomplish Jonathan Ridley and knew he could not wield it whatever it was. He lacked the iron to go against this man. But he would have plunged himself into the act of murder if he’d had a knife or a pistol in the rooms at the Whilton Hotel. In that room with Ridley had been an atmosphere of ferocity that would have been the better of him.
“Husband.” It was Mary’s face he encountered first of them all. She was waiting for Gabriel in the yard behind the shop. She stood and blocked his path.
“What has happened?” she asked with unaccustomed firmness. She was planted and would know all before the others. “What will become of our girls?”
“We are free of him if we pay him. It is the simplest of bargains. Again we pay him and we are free. We pay him and we are free!” Gabriel said bitterly.
At this Mary clapped her hands, laughed, and skipped a short frolic.
“It’s a sour bargain, Mary,” Gabriel said, and did not smile and did not appear relieved of the worry as Mary expected. Her recent unmitigated joy had been roughened in the last days. She had been girding herself for heartbreak and felt a profound relief at Gabriel’s news.