Sweetsmoke (43 page)

    I mean
before, your profession?

    "Hard
to remember anymore, but I guess I was a teacher. College in Tennessee."

    Cassius
nodded.

    "Was
up in Maryland not two days ago. Said we'd be welcomed like liberators,
Maryland being a slave state and all, forced to stay with the Union by that
bastard Lincoln. And here comes the Army of Northern Virginia to set you free
and you can join up with us because once we come into the North, those Yanks
are going to throw their hands up in the air and ask us to kindly go home and
the war will be over. Well, if there was a welcome, I missed it. And the order
come down, No looting, boys, because we want all them Mary- landers out there
to
like
us. Pay for everything, boys, show them respect. Well hell, what
if you got no money? There we are surrounded by crops, none of it harvested, a
whole damned state full of food and we can't touch it. You imagine that? Sure,
some of the officers bought up whole fields of corn, or apple orchards, out of
their own pockets, and the Marylanders even took Confederate money, but how
much corn can you eat without your insides turning to rusty water? Speaking of
which," he said and scampered off the road, pulling a newspaper out of his
haversack, going out of sight. Cassius sat down on a rock and waited for him to
finish, and when James Purcell came out of the woods, he was carrying what was
left of the newspaper he had used to clean himself. The front page was still
intact, and Cassius saw it was the
Baltimore Sun,
dated September 4.

    Mind
if I look at that? said Cassius.

    "You
read?"

    No,
just never did see a newspaper before.

    James
Purcell handed him the newspaper. He pointed to the top and said, "That
says
Baltimore Sun,
that there's a newspaper from the North."

    Cassius
looked at it as if he were amazed to see something so fantastic. But he read
quickly, learning that all of Baltimore was in an uproar, people fleeing into
Pennsylvania with their belongings because Lee was rumored to be coming. James
Purcell took the newspaper back and folded it into his haversack.

    "Maybe
I'll read some of it to you later. You doing all right? Feet feel good? Not too
hot?"

    I'm
fine, said Cassius. He could not remember a moment in his life when a white man
had asked about his condition. It was an odd feeling.

    So
you were a teacher.

    "War
started and I wanted to do my part before they came after me, I mean, I don't
own no twenty niggers, and I didn't have no six hundred dollars to buy a
substitute to fight in my place like some of the planters, so I thought I'd
just go. Joined the Nineteenth Tennessee."

    A
bell rang in Cassius's head. The night before, James Purcell had said he'd
joined the 19th Georgia. When he'd said he taught school in Tennessee, Cassius
had let that pass, imagining Purcell had gone to Georgia to enlist when that
state seceded. Now he knew the man was telling tales. While an innocent
explanation might be forthcoming, Cassius kept this knowledge to himself.
Purcell wouldn't have known, in the dark, the color of his companion. Cassius
might have been military, might have ordered him to his unit, so a lie might
have been in order. It was also possible that James Purcell was a harmless
storyteller. He might have suffered a head wound, leading to legitimate
confusion, although Cassius saw no scars. By tomorrow he might wholeheartedly
believe he had deserted from the 19th Alabama.

    They
kept to the main road that ran into the center of town, leaving behind
farmland. Cassius lowered his head, but furtively scrutinized everyone who
passed him, on foot or by buggy. No one seemed interested in him, until he
noticed, half a block ahead, a young man wearing a small bowler hat. The young
man had a great red mustache that covered his mouth and part of his chin,
making him resemble a goat. The red goat stopped dead and looked directly at
him. Cassius turned his head away, but a shiver ran down the backs of his legs.

    He
walked with Purcell past the occasional home until buildings began to cluster
creating a business district. As they passed an alley, Cassius thought that he
saw the red goat again, and he had an overwhelming sensation that the man was
following him. Cassius became so obsessed with his presence that he almost
missed seeing a brick slave auction house on a perpendicular street to his
left. They continued on for half a block when, without warning, James Purcell
stopped.

    "I
don't know that I can go another step. I need to eat soon."

    Cassius
nodded.

    "Thought
I saw a place on that last block. Why don't you have a sit down and rest your
feet, I'll go back and have a look. Maybe they'll serve us both instead of you
having to be out back."

    Cassius
entered a patch of shade in an alley where he wouldn't be conspicuous and he
scanned the street up and down for the red goat. No sign of him. He looked back
in time to see James Purcell turn right onto the perpendicular street they had
just passed. Cassius began to move. Purcell had turned in the direction of the
slave auction house.

    Cassius
walked in the opposite direction as rapidly as he thought could be interpreted
as casual, but he was not quick enough, because a moment later James Purcell
and a slave trader came on the run, rounding the corner behind him.

    "Fugitive
slave! Fugitive slave!" James Purcell yelled, and the fat slave trader
joined him in the chorus, "Stop him, fugitive slave, by law it's your
duty
to stop him!"

    Cassius
ran full-out. He turned at the next corner and his eyes darted, for places to
hide or alleys to utilize. He needed to get out of sight, but he had to be
careful not to trap himself. He felt the lack of food as his weak legs
struggled to reach top speed. His arms pumped but felt soft, as if the bones
had turned to rope. He glanced over his shoulder and saw the slave trader round
the corner, a man whose profession gave him the wherewithal to eat and drink in
prodigious quantities, and yet for all his girth he ran easily. James Purcell
was not with him. Cassius pushed harder. He ran by people who didn't understand
or hadn't heard the man yell "fugitive slave," and were therefore
slow to react. He glanced back again and James Purcell was finally around the
corner, too weak to keep pace with a slave trader who made his living in
chases. Cassius wished he knew the town so he might make smart choices. He
could only run and turn randomly, hoping to get far enough ahead of the slave
trader to duck out of sight.

    People
in front of him were beginning to understand the situation, and two burly men
squared up to intercept him. He saw them crouch, shoulders close together, and
knew that he faced real trouble. He had seconds to decide. They waited, he was
close now and he faked left and went right. The man on the left bought it, and
shifted, opening a small space between them. The man on the right was not
fooled, keeping focused, staying in front of Cassius, reaching for him. Cassius
made one last move, going between them instead of around, and the men,
off-guard, grasped for him and caught each other and he was past. Women
scurried out of his way. In one case, in her hurry, a woman blocked another man
from getting to him, and both man and woman tumbled in the street.

    Just
ahead, he saw the red goat. His heart sank. The man had been on to him from the
moment Cassius walked into town, and now he would grab him. Cassius began to
slow, looking for some way around him, knowing he could not retreat, as that
would lead him back into the arms of the slave trader. The red goat, however,
did not crouch or set his feet, or do anything to intercept him. Instead, he
brought his hand deliberately to his earlobe and tugged on it. Then he turned
and walked quickly around the corner out of sight.

    What
had he seen? Cassius had mere seconds to make a decision as he ran toward the spot,
wondering if the red goat would grab him at the corner or if something else was
in the offing. Shedd's words returned to him. Had he witnessed a signal? Was
the man part of the Underground Railroad? Or was he scratching an itch,
indulging a nervous habit? Cassius reached the corner, decision upon him. He
could keep running from determined townspeople compelled to capture him by the
Fugitive Slave Act, or he could trust Shedd and hope this man represented an
escape. He turned the corner. The red goat hovered in a doorway. The street was
momentarily empty. The red goat tugged his earlobe again, an obvious and
deliberate gesture, and Cassius hoped he wasn't a slave chaser imitating
Underground Railroad tactics. Cassius hurled himself at dumb luck and followed
him through the doorway. The red goat closed the door behind him and raised a
finger for silence.

    Cassius
struggled to be silent as he fought to catch his breath. The red goat cracked
the door and watched the street. Cassius heard the slave trader. "Fugitive
slave, where is he?!" He had stopped in the middle of the street, turning
in a full circle.

    The
red goat closed the door and gestured that Cassius follow him, then led him up
a flight of stairs to a dining room. At the far end, using his fingernails, he
struggled to pry something loose from the wall. After a moment, a waist-high
panel of wainscoting came free and revealed a hidden space. Cassius went
inside. The red goat left, then returned with a lit lantern, which he passed in
to Cassius. He replaced the wainscoting and Cassius could only see the square
edges of light. He heard the red goat's footsteps walk away.

    He
inspected the hidden space. Blankets were piled on a bench and smelled of fresh
soap. A pitcher of water sat near the opening, while at the back was a clean
chamber pot. Cassius thought none of it had been used before.

    Cassius
heard a pounding at the door downstairs. He heard the red goat's footsteps as he
descended the stairs, heard him speak to someone, then heavier footsteps came
up the stairs and tramped through the rooms. Cassius waited to be taken. They
came to the dining room and he heard a man say, "You see, no one is here
but me."

    Gruff
words were exchanged, but the heavy footsteps retreated. The front door closed.
It was a while before he heard fingernails clawing at the wainscoting.

    "You
are safe for now," said the red goat. "My name is Bill Bryant and I
help the Underground Railroad."

    Cassius
decided to offer little information. Bryant would make assumptions. That was
fine.

    "We
will get you to Canada. We've had great success with our route, and our
conductors have yet to lose a passenger. Now I just want to tell you, so you
won't be concerned, that my wife will be coming back shortly. When she arrives,
the door will open. I promise you, it will only be her, nothing to worry about;
it won't be the slave catchers coming back. Nothing to worry about, she's an
abolitionist as well. In fact, she once spoke with Harriet Beecher Stowe. May I
offer you tea?"

    Bryant
took down two cups and two saucers from a cabinet and set them at the table.

    Cassius
thought that Bill Bryant was likely a nice man, despite his frightening visage—the
heavy mustache, the grim eyebrows—but he detected no humor in this young man
whatsoever. Bryant spoke as if to make certain that Cassius understood that he
considered him an equal. In a cruel assessment, Cassius thought Bryant would be
more upset to commit a social faux pas with a passenger than to lose him to the
slave traders. Cassius had preferred the company of the devious rat James
Purcell. For all his disingenuousness, he was at least entertaining and
considerably more comfortable in his own skin, able to tell tall tales with
sincerity.

    The
front door opened, and despite Bryant's warning, Cassius did start, dropping
his tea cup, which clattered against the saucer loudly. Bryant quickly had a
towel in hand and wiped up spilled tea as he spoke soothingly, nothing to be
concerned about. Bryant's young wife came up the stairs and bustled in,
petticoats rustling, her tiny round face consumed by unmistakable joy at his
presence. "Praise the Lord!" she said.

    Ma'am,
said Cassius.

    "The
entire town is positively abuzz with the news of the commotion. I only prayed
we would get you in time," she said. "I ran all the way here!"

    "I
was lucky to be there when he was running," said Bryant.

    I was
lucky to be running where he was being, said Cassius, attempting levity.

    But
she was as completely earnest as Bryant. "Oh, you were lucky indeed,"
she said, and reached out to take his hand and look into his eyes.

    Cassius
smiled and sighed inside. Two of them.

    Bryant
and his wife excused themselves elaborately to step into another room. They
returned together to face him.