Читать книгу Solomon - Marilyn Bishop Shaw - Страница 7

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The homestead was centered on a flat spot with a few small natural clearings. That meant fewer trees had to be cut down right away. The combination corncrib and mule shed with its attached mule lot were the first to be built. It was a small, pieced-together structure started with the few saw boards Moses brought from Georgia. Added to that were even fewer boards he spent all but his last coin on in Gainesville when he went to the land office to register their homestead. Pine logs for support poles, an assortment of rough-hewn boards, and an extra thick thatched roof would have to do until Moses had time to improve it.

Any good farmer knew that if he didn’t take care of his animals and his harvest neither of them would do him any good. And Moses Freeman was a good farmer. He had taken in everything he could during his lifetime of fieldwork on Harrison Walker’s Georgia plantation. He learned so well that he was given responsibilities, and even a few privileges, rare for a slave.

Aside from the fieldwork, most of Moses’ time was spent chopping wood for the cookfire, winter supply, and building a lean-to. The trees he cut had to be trimmed of their limbs to make the walls of the lean-to. Figuring by the size of most of the trees he had cut, he could make the lean-to about fifteen feet square. He had drawn a plan in the sand for Solomon, who thought it would be grand after having no roof over their heads at all. “Do you reckon we could have a window on the sides, Papa? Mama would love windows.”

“She would, boy, but I ain’t sure we need ’em here with the whole front open but for blankets,” Moses said, jesting about their primitive situation. One day, he promised himself, Lela would have fine windows. Windows of real glass!

Simply putting food in their bellies a couple of times a day was a constant challenge, and they all did their part. Despite a variety of varmints regularly harvesting, the kitchen garden was growing well, with the sweet potatoes, collard greens, and okra coming in soon. Lela even managed to transplant some wild onions that were growing out larger than usual. She vowed that the secret to her winning garden was the regular contribution made by Sunny and Sudie. Lela did the cooking and tried to keep clothes relatively clean and mended. They didn’t have enough clothes to make that a big job. The main problem was Solomon, who was shooting up before their very eyes. His pants just got shorter and shorter, and the taller he grew the skinnier he got.

Few nights went by that she didn’t spend a little while at the night’s fire working with Solomon on his lessons. “Get in them books, son,” his father would say. “They be your way up.” Moses took part in the lessons, too, because he wanted to be sure his son was never ashamed of him.

At the rain barrel one hot afternoon Moses and Lela enjoyed sharing a refreshing drink of water and a moment of reflection. “Lela, it ours, ain’t it? And taking some shape.”

“It is that, Moses. I’m right proud of you.” Lela absent-mindedly wrapped her arms like she was cold. Moses tried to follow her eyes as the looked far into the distance, but he could see nothing particular. Her lips turned up slightly and she sighed.

“Lela, what you thinkin,’ girl? You ’bout a hunert mile away from here,” Moses observed.

“Soaking in the feeling, Moses. I’m just soaking in the feeling.” Lela turned to her husband and put a hand on his forearm. “Moses,” she said finally, “this is home. I’ve never in my life felt like I truly belonged anywhere. Not in the quarters, not in the big house. I was always different, out of step.” She inhaled deeply and exhaled in a whisper, “With you and our son, I belong in this place.”

Since he didn’t know what to say, Moses just patted Lela’s hand. He thought he knew at least part of her feelings, though, because he’d had some of the same ones.

Their eyes moved toward the small figure in the distance. “Solomon’s doing fine, too.”

“He sure is. Have to say I had him figured for a farmer like me. Guess ’cause I didn’t know nothin’ else. But he turnin’ out pretty clever with his traps and all.”

Lela had to laugh. “You’re right about that. I know you’ve been some disappointed he doesn’t like the farming part. But, I can sure count on him to put meat on the table. I just never know what it’ll be!”

“Ain’t that the truth? A squirrel, a coon, gopher, a couple of catfish . . . you just never know. He’s mighty clever with his snares and I wouldn’t want to be on the catchin’ end of his sling. It do take a burden of worry off me to know we won’t starve,” the man said standing a little taller. He licked his lips and turned to his wife. “And ain’t nobody can turn a poor varmint and a few poke greens and wild onions into a stew like you, Miss Lela. Not nobody.”

Lela blushed under the compliment but loved hearing it. The couple continued to look at the boy. “Moses, Lord knows the boy carries his weight and more. He hardly ever does anything for himself until his chores are done.” Her hand shaded her eyes as she squinted against the bright sun, puzzlement painting her face. “But what’s this new game he’s playing? Other day he was scatting around with a long line of rags tied together. Now that’s something else.”

“Yup, looks like scraps of hides if my guess is right. Still, it ain’t quite the thing he’s after.” Lela planted her hands on her hips and her feet on the ground glaring at Moses as she waited for him to share what he obviously knew. “‘Member I told you we run into the man, Mr. Harker? Part I didn’t say was that he about the best hand with a cow whip I ever seed.”

Lela knew exactly why Moses spoke so quietly and seriously. “And Solomon was taken by it?”

“Like I ain’t seed him. You think he been charmed, couldn’t take his eyes off it. Don’t know how he could make one for his own. He didn’t hardly get a good look at Mr. Harker’s. But, it looks like he’s making a try with it.” As much as he hated the thought, Moses had to appreciate the way Solomon could handle his small, crude version of the whip he’d seen.

“And you didn’t tell me ’cause you see it making trouble. From what you said, Mr. Harker didn’t appear a bad sort.” The nod of Moses’ head told Lela she had guessed right.

“He sho’ ain’t like any white man I ever seed before. Had a sadness about him.” Moses exhaled slowly. “But, I just don’t know as I want Solomon to get attached to such as him and sure don’t like him fancying whips. Ain’t no place in my life for no more whips. Them days is gone.”

“Times are different now, and we can’t just avoid all the white men in the world.” Lela took her husband’s hand and scolded gently. Memories of Moses’ appearance just weeks before flashed through their minds. “Oh, look at him, Moses. It’s just a boy’s passing fancy. Let him have a little bit of a childhood. Lord knows he gets little enough of one.” When he heard that tone from Lela, Moses knew not to argue, so he took a final sip of water and returned to the woodpile.