“How many times has he run?” Alden asked.
“Twice since the summer. Your father is quite distraught.”
Distraught was probably a vast understatement. His father, he speculated, was raging mad. No one defied John Payne, especially not a slave. And certainly not three times.
He was shocked that his father hadn’t already sold Benjamin at the market in Charlottesville. Someone else would probably buy him and take him farther south to Mississippi or Louisiana, where it would be impossible to escape.
But then again, Benjamin had always been a good worker and was stronger than most of his father’s slaves, perhaps because he had grown up with a mother who loved him, plenty of good food, and a best friend to play with outside their house.
“Where is Mammy?” he asked, overwhelmed by concern for the woman who had raised him. She was probably in her room on her knees, praying that her son would be safe, that freedom would find Benjamin before Master Payne did.
“How am I supposed to know where that foolish woman is?”
Alden cringed. “She’s not a fool.”
His mother walked toward the tree and brushed her hands over the barren needles. “If she’d reared her son the right way, he wouldn’t be running.”
How could she call Mammy a fool? The woman had poured her life into raising not only her child but also the three Payne children. He, Eliza, and Rhody had adored her, flourished in her affection. As he grew older, he admired Mammy’s courage and tenacity even more when he realized she’d chosen joy even when she was enslaved.
In his heart, he admired Benjamin’s courage too. His determination to leave. Perhaps his friend would find the path to the elusive underground railway that traveled north, to the abolitionists who were risking their lives to help runaways find safety in Canada.
“Stella is coming this evening with her parents, along with the Morris family,” his mother said. “But if your father doesn’t return by five, it will ruin our dinner plans.”
“I’m certain they will understand.” It was perfectly fine with him if their dinner plans were ruined. His parents had decided that he and Stella Bradford were to marry after his graduation, but neither he nor Stella had agreed to this marriage. Sitting beside her, everyone hinting and prodding about their future during the meal, was agonizing for both of them.
She pointed toward the door, the glass trinkets on her bracelet clanging. “There’s soup down in the kitchen. Hattie can serve you lunch.”
“Is Rhody upstairs?”
She shook her head. “Rhody went to Charlottesville with your father. Jeptha has the dogs and other slaves searching the fields and forest.”
How strange it must be for his sixteen-year-old sister to hunt for a slave. And for the other slaves to hunt for a brother, knowing the punishment he would face if they found him—and the swift punishment they’d endure alongside Benjamin if they tried to hide him.
If a slave found Benjamin, Alden prayed they would ignore him. The dogs were another matter. They were trained to hunt and—
“Who’s that?” his mother asked, her gaze wandering from the tree branches down to Alden’s side. Isaac stepped out from behind him, his head held high.
“This is Isaac,” he explained. “Eliza sent him to help in the fields.”
His mother waved her hand. “He’s too young to do us any good.”
Isaac started to reply, but Alden placed a firm hand on his shoulder to silence him. He didn’t want Isaac sold before he’d had a chance to prove his worth.
“I’m sure he’s a hard worker,” Alden said.
“There’s nothing to him.” His mother glanced out the window and then looked back. “Did Eliza send his papers?”
Alden shook his head.
“Then we can’t even sell him,” she fumed. “Just because she can’t afford to feed another mouth—”
“I don’t eat much,” Isaac interjected.
Alden pressed into Isaac’s shoulder as a warning, but it was too late. His mother’s eyebrows pinched together, and she bent down toward him, clearly irritated that he spoke without permission. “We don’t tolerate thievery here, for as long as we decide to keep you.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Nor any kind of sass.”
