Читать книгу Solomon - Marilyn Bishop Shaw - Страница 9

5

They covered the twenty-two miles home in only two days since they moved directly toward the farm. It had been an eventful trip, but they were all glad to be home. He couldn’t have explained it, but Pete Harker felt oddly like he had come home, too.

“Why, Moses, you’ve done some work here,” Pete said as he surveyed the homestead. This’ll beat being in the open in a cold winter and, believe me, winter here can be as bad as they get anywhere.”

Moses knew their new friend had probably never lived in any house as rude as this one, but appreciated the comments. “It ain’t what I hope to give my family, Mr. Harker, but it took us weeks and ’bout kilt us couple a times. Takes some muscle to handle them logs.”

“I’d say so! How about the front part, Moses? Any plans for that?” Pete asked, hopefully.

Solomon jumped in enthusiastically. “It’s fixed so we can put the front wall in, too, Mr. Harker. We just afeared we wouldn’t get that done before cold comes. We have some blankets to put up there.”

“I have an idea that none of us can hold out to practice shooting all day long. How about my helping you for a few days and see if we can’t get a front wall with a door in there?”

“Oh, Mr. Harker, we couldn’t oblige you to do that. You’ve done enough for us already,” Lela said, not wanting to take advantage of this man’s kind heart.

“I’m not obliged to do any of it—the shooting or the building or anything else. I’ll stay and help out awhile, though, if you’ll allow it.” He paused, silently admitting that, despite his intentions to accept the Freemans as equals, he had never done such before. “While we’re still getting acquainted, let’s just drop all this Mister, if you don’t mind. Just sounds way too high and mighty for . . . for friends.”

There was silence as three mouths dropped open. Never had a white man suggested that they call him anything but mister or master. Lela stammered as graciously as she could, “Mister, I mean, Pete, if that’s how you want it, that’s how it’ll be. Don’t know as I like Solomon calling a grown man so familiar, though.”

“I can understand that, Lela. Would you settle for Mister Pete?”

Solomon’s eyes gleamed in admiration for Pete Harker, and Lela nodded her consent.

Moses broke the silence of newness. “Family, it’ll soon be dark and we got lots to do.” He turned and grinned. “And, Pete, if you gonna be part of this family, guess you can start by helpin’ me unload this wagon!”

In no time at all, Lela had the supper fire going, and the load was stowed properly. Sunny and Sudie were unharnessed, watered, and hobbled to graze in a grassy spot nearby.

Supper that night was cornpone and fresh rabbit with peaches for dessert. Lela and Solomon enjoyed listening to Moses tell Pete of his plans for the place and Pete offering suggestions along. Easier companions would have been hard to find. More unlikely companions would have been even harder to find.

For the next two days, the four worked tirelessly to give the house a front wall. The wide door opening would let in light and ventilation in fair weather, and could still be closed for protection in foul weather. Even with the door open, the house was shadowy, so Lela got her window. Really, it was just a good-sized hole in the wall, but it let light in and let Lela see the world outside. She looked out the window down toward the spring and just sighed. Moses stepped close behind her and gave her shoulders a little squeeze. She knew her man. He was telling her this extra effort was for her. He was telling her that he loved her. She could see him becoming more his own man day by day, and he knew it, too.

Moses knew the discarded harness leather wouldn’t make long-lasting hinges for the door. He just hoped they would last until someone went to town to buy real hinges. Just as he and Pete began attaching the door to its frame, it started to drizzle. Within the hour, drizzle turned to a downpour. All four people ran inside and listened to the rain beat down on the palmetto roof, each praying that it was laced tightly enough. They managed to cover the window with oilcloth. It was a mite cozy with one whole corner taken by their new store of supplies, but not unpleasant. They took advantage of the time to better sort and arrange their new stock of provisions, protecting it with the rest of the oilcloth. They also rested and ate cold supper, the now extinguished cookfire remaining outside of the house. They bundled into their bedrolls and enjoyed rainy slumber. Pete considered what his rigid father would have said about his friends. The moment that question entered his mind, he knew that he didn’t care about his father’s opinion. His eyes closed and he slept more deeply than he had in over a year.

It was still raining the next morning while Moses and Pete worked on the window shutters. They didn’t have enough leather for the hinges, so the shutters slid on the inside wall to meet and cover the window. A little lard rubbed in the tracks made them slide better, but having the window was worth the little muscle it took to cover it up. Finally, the wind just blew the rain in by the bucket, so the window was closed. The single oil lamp did little more than keep them from stepping on each other.

Only Lela and Solomon could stand near the back of the room, and with Solomon’s head touching the roof now, he wouldn’t be able to stand straight for long. Moses and Pete could barely stand straight at the front wall, so there wasn’t much moving about. Each of the little group found things to do inside, but they all got stir crazy, too. Lela drilled Solomon (and Moses) on sums and Pete talked of history in faraway places with grand kings and queens.

Throughout the morning, one of the two men would crack the front door or push back the shutters only to discover that the rain was still sheeting down. They noticed a little dampness above their heads, and hoped the palmetto roof would hold. They also noticed the dirt floor getting soggy along the outside walls. Just before noon, the winds picked up still more. Lela and Solomon huddled in the back corner near the stack of supplies as the roof right over their heads flopped up and down with the wind. “Moses!” shouted Lela as she and Solomon reached for a cross piece to hold the corner down.

Moses turned to see them, already soaked, struggling against the wind. “Pete,” Moses yelled as he moved toward Lela and Solomon, “rope in the barn!” Pete dashed out as quickly as he could. Meanwhile Moses crouched to reach the back of the house and took hold of the cross piece.

By the time a drenched Pete returned with the rope, Lela had inspected enough to know that they had lost substantial stores, but there wasn’t time to worry with that yet. Moses and Pete threaded the rope around and through several cross pieces and tied the ends to a heavy trunk handle. All four people were on their knees panting for breath and shaking like wet dogs. Solomon broke the silence. “Reckon it’ll hold, Papa?”

Moses deferred the question. “What you think, Pete? We jess gonna blow away?”

“Nobody but the Lord himself knows that, Moses, but I surely hope this roof stays on,” Pete answered prayerfully. They tried, in the light of the lantern, to adjust the cornmeal and flour away from more possible damage and made their ways back to the front of the house. Pete peeked out a slit in the window and shook his head, “I don’t know, Moses. I just don’t know. I’ve never seen anything quite like this. I’ve heard of hurricanes, but sure haven’t been in one.”

“You ain’t thinkin’ this is one of them heercanes, are you?” Lightning punctuated Moses’ question. They all shuddered, even the house. “That hit close. I hate to guess what Sunny and Sudie be thinking.”

The thunder rolled from a great distance, like a stampeding herd rumbling closer and closer to the Freeman’s home. With it came increased winds and even more rain. Suddenly, the wind died down and the house stopped shaking. They just looked at one another until Solomon couldn’t keep quiet. “Is it over, Papa? Can I go check on Sunny and Sudie now? They must be terrible scairt.”

“I don’t know, son. It seems still as anything now.” He moved toward the door and slowly opened it to reveal a moderate wind wafting across the soggy, limb-strewn homestead.

Pete joined him and stepped outside, looking up. “This is the darnedest thing I ever saw. The sky is almost clear. Y’all come on out and look at this.”

He was joined by three sets of eyes as big as saucers, slowly moving into the yard. “Solomon,” Moses said, “come on with me to check the damage in the field.” Before his father finished speaking, Solomon charged toward the mule pen. “Solomon Freeman, get back here!” Moses shouted.

Solomon skidded to a temporary stop and pleaded, “But, Papa, the mules. I’ve got to check on the mules.”

With one big stride, Moses reached Solomon and took his arms, nearly lifting him from the ground. The boy was perfectly still. “Boy, when I tell you to do a thing, you do it. Them mules know their own keep.”

He relaxed his grip slightly, and the boy wrenched free and shouted over his shoulder, “I’m sorry, Papa. I got to check Sudie and Sunny.” His final shout was a whisper by the time it reached Moses’ ears. “I’ll come find you in the field.”

“Moses,” Pete’s calming hand scarcely touched his shoulder, “we’re all too tired and too worried. The boy will be right on. He’s just trying to do his part. Go ahead, and we’ll both be along in a few minutes.” Moses allowed Pete’s interference, but he wasn’t sure he liked it.

Solomon reached the mule lot to discover that a falling limb had caught Sudie’s halter, not hurting her, but pinning her head down almost to the ground. There was no way to know how long she had struggled against it. Pete was relieved that Diamond was jittery but unhurt.

While they worked, Pete offered Solomon quiet encouragement. “Solomon, you think your Papa doesn’t see you growing up, don’t you?” Solomon didn’t speak; he just tugged harder at the debris. “You want to make some choices for yourself and you think he can’t see that.”

“I guess,” Solomon muttered. He stopped working. “Mr. Pete, how come you see things so clear?”

“Well,” Pete laughed, “it’s not because I’m so smart. Maybe it’s that I’m on the outside looking at both of you. You and Moses are just too close to each other and your own feelings to see the whole picture. That’s all.”

“I wasn’t trying to get out of work, truly I wasn’t. I just knew Sudie and Sunny needed me. I don’t know how I knew, but I knew.”

“I understand, and I think your Papa does, too. Try to be patient with him, Solomon. It’s the hardest thing of all for a father to see his child move away in growing up.”

Lela checked the chicken coop. Moses went directly to the field to see if anything was still standing. There was damage all right, but at least it hadn’t all washed away. Luckily, it was late enough in the fall that much of the corn had already been picked. Lela had followed Moses and put a reassuring hand on her husband’s arm. “Oh, Moses, thank God you didn’t listen to my complaining about building the corn crib first.” Moses took her under his arm and she continued, “You knew just what we needed most, didn’t you? And there I was complaining because I had to haul more palmettos for that roof than we even used on the house. If we didn’t have it to keep the corn, I don’t know where we’d be.”

“I just hope the crib kept dry.” Most of the fodder stacks they hoped to use as winter feed for the mules were twisted and lying in the mud. “Without the fodder, that corn’s gonna have to feed three people and two mules all winter. Won’t be good, but it be food, I guess.”

Solomon had looked into the corn crib, which stood next to the mule pen, and shouted that it looked a little damp, but not damaged. Lela felt Moses relax as he asked her, “The chickens?”

“All there, thank the Lord. Wet and mad but all there. Soon as they get over being mad, they start layin’ again. At least we won’t starve as long as we can get a few eggs most every day.”

They leaned into each other, glad to be clear of the danger. “How about our food in the house, Lela? We lose much?” Moses asked hopefully.

“Oh, Moses, I can’t be sure. Some is ruined and it’ll make things harder when the cold comes, but we’ll find enough to eat.”

“That’s my Lela,” Moses said wrapping his big arms around her protectively. “You can find a rainbow in a storm and make food out of nothin,’ cain’t you, girl?”

In seconds, the wind swirled from a new direction and began regaining speed. Lela and Moses looked at each other in confusion. Then they looked for Solomon, who had raced from mule pen, to chicken coop, to the far edge of the field just happy to be out of the house. No sooner had Moses raised his hand to call Solomon than a bolt of lightning drowned out his voice.

The sound made Solomon look and he ran toward his parents, who were watching him as they moved toward the house. Pete came from behind the house to report what he had found there when another bolt of lightning zipped down the middle of a pine at the edge of the cornfield. Half the tree remained oddly vertical as the other half crashed to the ground just as Solomon approached the spot. All three adults raced toward him, calling his name, knowing he couldn’t possibly hear them over the noise of the lightning and its crashing damage.

Lela’s mind moved in slow motion and she wondered why she couldn’t make her body move fast enough to get to her baby. In reality, her body must have moved like the increasing winds, because she reached the tree first. “Solomon! Solomon! It’s Mama! Can you hear me, baby?” Pete and Moses hurdled the tree to find the dazed little boy groaning softly.

At least the boy wasn’t pinned under the trunk or a main limb of the tree. “He all right, Lela,” said Moses. “I thinks he all right.”

Moses and Pete didn’t stop to think as they ripped limbs off the tree top to get to the boy. Pete reached him first and checked for broken bones. “Solomon, can you hear me? It’s Pete, and your Mama and Papa are right here. Can you hear me?” The boy wanted to respond, but only moaned again. As Moses knelt beside his son, Pete’s quick hands were testing arms and legs from top to bottom. “I don’t think anything’s broken, Moses. I can’t be sure, but I think the tree just knocked him down. Maybe knocked the breath out of him. I don’t think it really hit him directly.”

“Can we move him?” Moses had seen hurt people moved on boards with their heads roped still. If Solomon was badly hurt, he didn’t want him hurt worse by moving him.

Pete surveyed the sky again and shouted directions to Moses. Slowly, carefully, they pulled Solomon free of the tree and its web of branches. Then, they lifted him onto two pine limbs held close together. As the men carried him to the house, Lela continued the inspection Pete had begun. Her worst discovery was a nasty gash at the top of her son’s forehead that moved into the hairline. Solomon’s blood dripped a trail all the way across the yard, and she knew the bleeding would have to be stopped before she could do anything else for her boy. By the time they reached the house, the rain and wind had returned more powerfully than before. The large raindrops awakened Solomon and his eyes tried to focus on his father, who was carrying the pine poles at his feet. “Papa? That you, Papa?” he whispered.

“It’s me, boy, I be right here.” Moses had never heard a sweeter sound than his son’s voice at that moment. The boy heaved a weak sigh and his head flopped to the side.

“No! God, no!” cried Lela. She became an officer in command and Moses and Pete her troops. “Move! Get him into the house now!”

Solomon was gently nestled into his bed. It was no more than a pallet of blankets on a thick layer of corn shucks, but it felt soft and warm to him. Moses held the oil lamp close so they could examine Solomon. It was almost impossible for their voices to be heard over the din of the storm. Systematically, Pete repeated his examination of the boy’s body and felt sure there weren’t broken bones. His other scratches were easily treated, but Lela took special care with the gash. “I ’most hate to take the time, Moses, but I can’t tend this until we get his hair out of the way.”

Before she finished the sentence, Moses passed the lamp to Pete and was up getting the soap, water, and straight razor. He tried to lighten the mood, “Well, son, I know you hate this, but it was ’bout time to clip this nest offa your head anyhow, before things start to move in there.” Slowly, with great care, Moses soaped and shaved the front half of the boy’s head, revealing that the cut slashed across more of his scalp than first seen. “That’s enough for now,” he said, seeking Lela’s approval. “I can do the rest when he’s better.” At least when he’s passed out he can’t feel the pain.

As Lela cleaned the gash and applied a tight poultice of warm pine tar, pinching the gash together, Moses knelt and caressed his son’s feet. It was all he could think to do. Nearly four hours passed before Solomon’s eyes opened.

All he wanted to do was go to sleep, but the three adults spent the afternoon and entire night in shifts to keep him from falling asleep. First, his mother talked softly to him and asked questions from his latest lessons. Taking the second shift, his father urged Solomon to sing with him. Moses’ warm deep voice, accompanied by God’s thundering orchestra, comforted the entire household. It seemed that the second part of the storm assaulted them even worse than the first. Each member of the little household said steady silent prayers that they would suffer no further harm.

After a good rest, Pete relieved Moses just before dawn. The storm had dwindled to a steady drizzle and Pete opened the window and door to let light and fresh air in. Solomon was exhausted, and Pete wasn’t sure what he could do to keep him awake long enough to be sure he wasn’t addle-brained from the bump on his head. Remembering his saddlebag, his spirits rose. He gently tugged the pallet toward the opened door. “Solomon, can you sit up a little bit? Look, it’s light over here. I want to talk with you a little.”

“Uh huh, Mr. Pete, I want to go to sleep.”

“I know you do, boy, but we have to be sure your head isn’t hurt. Stay awake just a little while longer and then you can sleep as long as you want.” Pete continued, “Solomon, I’m real impressed by the way you took to shooting that shotgun we found. Your daddy’s a good enough shot to bring home some game, but you could turn into a real fine shot.”

“I like shootin,’ Mr. Pete. I want to get a big turkey. Or maybe a deer.”

“I don’t blame you one bit. That would be something good to have in the cold season. You’re gonna make a fine shot, but I’ve never seen anybody handle a whip the way you do.”

Solomon managed a little laugh at that. “Oh, yeah, Mr. Pete. I’m real good with that whip of yours,” he said sarcastically. “I can’t hardly pick it up good. I sure can’t make it pop like you do.” Fatigued, he breathed deeply as though talking took great strength. “But I sure would like to make it pop one day,” he said wistfully.

“That doesn’t matter, Solomon. I have the eye to see that you have a gift for handling the whip. If you’re of a mind to, I’d be pleased to teach you what I know.”

That woke Solomon right up. “Would you, Mr. Pete? Would you, surely?”

Patting the boy’s shoulder, Pete stood to reach for his saddlebag and said, “I would, surely, Solomon. And we’ll get started right now.”

Nearly an hour later, when Moses and Lela awoke, Solomon had braided and unbraided the short leather strips Pete had given him. He chanted as he worked the supple leather braid around a stiff leather core. “Over two to the left, over three to the right, keep it smooth and keep it tight.” He knew right off when he didn’t turn the leather just right because his weave would be bumpy and uneven. Before Pete could even tell him he needed to, Solomon pulled the weave out and began again.

Pete, shaking his head, stepped out the door to greet Moses and Lela. “Mornin’ you two. I’ve never in my life seen anything to beat it.”

“What, Pete?” asked Lela, concern written on her face.

“That boy of yours, that’s what. I showed him just twice the braid pattern and he’s just about got it down. Right off, he knew he had to do it just right and he’s been practicing for over an hour now. Never saw such a hand for it.”

“Looks like he wants ’most anything but being a farmer like his daddy,” Moses said in quiet bitterness.

Pete took his new friend’s meaning. “Moses, I know what it’s like to hope your son follows in your steps. I know, too, that we can’t make them what they aren’t. Your Solomon is no farmer.”

“Nope. He’s taken to wanderin’ for hours in the woods and come out with the most greens and berries and roots. And critters,” Moses said, shaking his head. “Lord, with just a sling and a snare, that boy don’t go in the woods but what he don’t come out with somethin’ fer the table.”

“If we had a table . . . “ Lela remarked, looking at Moses, eyebrow arched and hands on hips.

The men shifted uncomfortably. Moses explained, “Lela’s been wantin’ a table and some stools so’s we could ’least sit to eat a meal. There’s been such work to do just gettin’ the house up, we ain’t got to furnishin’s.”

“Well,” Pete calculated, surveying the area, “it’s too wet for me to head out just yet. Diamond would slip and bog down every step. Looks like Solomon’s head is clear and he’ll need to sleep a couple of days to catch up after all the entertaining we’ve done through the night.”

The Freemans wondered where this conversation was going. Pete addressed Moses. “You and Solomon learned to shoot faster than I thought you could. The only thing to improve that is a little practice bringing home game.” Turning toward Lela, Pete continued. “And, Lela, I pray you never need to, but I think you could do some damage with it if you had to.”

“Yes, sir, and we’re mighty grateful to you for that. I don’t know but what we’d a shot ourselves trying to learn it without you,” Moses offered sincerely.

“Yes, well, you don’t need more lessons from me, that’s sure. Why don’t we see what we can do about a little furniture for the house and maybe even a floor,” suggested Pete.

Lela’s eyes brightened. “A floor? A real floor? Wouldn’t that just take the cake? But if we can just get beds and a real table I’d be satisfied.” She grinned. “At least for now!”

Moses’ smile showed his admiration for his wife’s quiet, but incredibly strong will, and he announced, “Look like we in the carpenter business, Pete. We better check all around after the storm and get busy.”

The men moved to their chores and Lela checked on Solomon, who was alert and fixed on his braiding. “Law, child, you’ll wear that leather slap out, you keep going with it,” she teased as she went to her work, but she knew the whip was still a worry to Moses.

It took four days of steady work to clear the area of storm damage, add thatching to the leaky spots in the roofs of the house and corn crib, and make crude but serviceable furniture for the house. The Freemans now had two beds with rope supports on which Lela placed moss-filled mattresses made of sturdy ticking from the renegade wagon. They also had a table and four stools, along with one ladder-back chair for Lela to use for her long hours of mending and sewing. After eight long months sleeping on pallets on the floor, the beds were the most welcomed comfort of all.

Pete headed back to Madison County on the fifth day after the hurricane, the ground having dried enough for travel. The Freemans gathered in the front yard to bid him farewell. As Lela handed him a little parcel that he knew contained some hoecakes and salt pork, she spoke for her family. “Pete, we do thank you for all you’ve done for us.” She shuddered. “I hate to think what might have happened . . .”

Uncomfortable with the memory, the praise, and the parting, he replied, “Now, Lela, I’ve done nothing particular. And I don’t know when I’ve eaten better. Should be me thanking you. I bet I’ve got fifteen extra pounds of fat stored for winter!”

“We’d never have got so much done but for you, Pete, you know that,” Moses offered.

Diamond shifted, anxious to get moving, “I was glad to do it and the work was good for me. Got me limbered up a mite. Now, you all take good care. Winters down here get worse than folks think. Florida’s hot most times, but it can have some kind of cold, too, I learned that last year.” His three friends nodded, since they now knew how serious weather could be. “And, Solomon, I want you to work slowly and carefully on your whip. You’ve got a fine steady hand to do the weaving. Just try to remember all I showed you and take it out and rework it if it gets wobbly.”

“I will, Mr. Pete. I’ll do it real good. And I’ll practice using it, too, you’ll see!”

Moses’ back went stiff and Pete continued, “What else, Solomon? What else must you remember?”

“The whip ain’t a toy, ain’t nothing to play with or use on a man. I won’t forget, Mr. Pete. Not ever.”

A large hand reached down and wistfully rubbed the top of Solomon’s head, carefully avoiding the healing wound, then lifted in farewell as Pete and Diamond headed north.