all of hers were filled with fear?
They walked single file, with Lizzie clinging to the back of Otis’s shirt. Before long she heard voices and saw the faint orange light of a campfire flickering in the woods. Lizzie sighed with relief when they reached the makeshift campground and saw Otis’s brother,Saul, and a bunch of other slaves from the old days sitting around the fire. Beyond them was a cluster of shacks and lean-tos made from old boards and burlap sacks. She heard a stream trickling nearby and a baby crying in one of the huts. The clearing smelled of woodsmoke and roasting meat.
“Hey, Otis! Lizzie! Good to see you!” Saul welcomed them with hugs and slaps on the back. “I heard you came back from Richmond with Miz Eugenia.”
“That’s right, nearly two weeks ago. Massa Daniel is home from the war, too, and they have me driving the carriage for them. Nobody’s saying a word about planting cotton, though. I been wondering how you been getting on and decided to come see for myself.” Someone rolled a dead log into the circle of firelight, and Lizzie sat down on it close to Otis, listening to the sound of the creek and the crackling fire, swatting mosquitoes as they landed on her bare arms and legs.
“You here to stay with us?” Saul’s wife asked Lizzie. “Where’s your boys and Roselle?”
“They’re back at the cabin. We ain’t decided to leave White Oak just yet.” Lizzie didn’t say so, but living in the woods like wild animals didn’t seem like any kind of a life for her kids. “Why’d you move out here?” she asked Saul.
“Well, I decided that since I was a free man, I wasn’t going to live like a slave no more or listen to somebody telling me what to do all day.”
“What happens when it rains or when the weather turns cold?” Lizzie asked.
“Or when the owner of this property comes and chases you off?” Otis added.
“We’ll have our own land to live on by then.”
“Your own land?” Lizzie asked. “Where you gonna get your own land?”
“There’s a new white fellow come to Fairmont, sent by the government up in Washington. He’s helping all us Negroes. Said we’re entitled to farms of our own.”
“You sure it ain’t a trick?” Lizzie asked. She liked the idea of living out from under Miz Eugenia, and she’d like to see Otis plowing land for himself. But her fear of the unknown ran too deep.
“No, it ain’t a trick,” Saul said. “They call it the Freedmen’s Bureau, and the fella who runs it is a Yankee—the same Yankees that won the war. He’s passing out food and clothes and things over in the village, and saying we’re gonna get our own land.”
“He’s a white man?” Lizzie asked.
“Yeah, but he says it’s his job to help us get settled and get enough to eat. Talk to him, Otis. Hear what he has to say. He claims we can move out West where there’s lots of land and farm it ourselves.”
Lizzie knew by the quiet way Otis was staring into the fire that he was pondering Saul’s words. “Next time you go see this man, maybe Lizzie and me can come with you and hear what he has to say.”
“It don’t work that way. We have to go into Fairmont one at a time. The white folks around here don’t like to see a whole gang of us Negroes all together.”
“Maybe we can go right after supper some evening when the chores are done,” Otis said. “Think the man will be there after supper?”
“He lives upstairs above his office. It’s in that little brick building that used to belong to the railroad. Know which one I mean? Right behind the train station?”
“I think so.”
“You can’t miss it. And the man should be there most all of the time.”
They talked for a while longer, catching up on the news and telling stories from the old days. It was good to see Otis laughing with his brother again. The night didn’t seem quite as dark on the way home, but Lizzie still didn’t like the idea of walking all the way into Fairmont.
They walked single file, with Lizzie clinging to the back of Otis’s shirt. Before long she heard voices and saw the faint orange light of a campfire flickering in the woods. Lizzie sighed with relief when they reached the makeshift campground and saw Otis’s brother,Saul, and a bunch of other slaves from the old days sitting around the fire. Beyond them was a cluster of shacks and lean-tos made from old boards and burlap sacks. She heard a stream trickling nearby and a baby crying in one of the huts. The clearing smelled of woodsmoke and roasting meat.
“Hey, Otis! Lizzie! Good to see you!” Saul welcomed them with hugs and slaps on the back. “I heard you came back from Richmond with Miz Eugenia.”
“That’s right, nearly two weeks ago. Massa Daniel is home from the war, too, and they have me driving the carriage for them. Nobody’s saying a word about planting cotton, though. I been wondering how you been getting on and decided to come see for myself.” Someone rolled a dead log into the circle of firelight, and Lizzie sat down on it close to Otis, listening to the sound of the creek and the crackling fire, swatting mosquitoes as they landed on her bare arms and legs.
“You here to stay with us?” Saul’s wife asked Lizzie. “Where’s your boys and Roselle?”
“They’re back at the cabin. We ain’t decided to leave White Oak just yet.” Lizzie didn’t say so, but living in the woods like wild animals didn’t seem like any kind of a life for her kids. “Why’d you move out here?” she asked Saul.
“Well, I decided that since I was a free man, I wasn’t going to live like a slave no more or listen to somebody telling me what to do all day.”
“What happens when it rains or when the weather turns cold?” Lizzie asked.
“Or when the owner of this property comes and chases you off?” Otis added.
“We’ll have our own land to live on by then.”
“Your own land?” Lizzie asked. “Where you gonna get your own land?”
“There’s a new white fellow come to Fairmont, sent by the government up in Washington. He’s helping all us Negroes. Said we’re entitled to farms of our own.”
“You sure it ain’t a trick?” Lizzie asked. She liked the idea of living out from under Miz Eugenia, and she’d like to see Otis plowing land for himself. But her fear of the unknown ran too deep.
“No, it ain’t a trick,” Saul said. “They call it the Freedmen’s Bureau, and the fella who runs it is a Yankee—the same Yankees that won the war. He’s passing out food and clothes and things over in the village, and saying we’re gonna get our own land.”
“He’s a white man?” Lizzie asked.
“Yeah, but he says it’s his job to help us get settled and get enough to eat. Talk to him, Otis. Hear what he has to say. He claims we can move out West where there’s lots of land and farm it ourselves.”
Lizzie knew by the quiet way Otis was staring into the fire that he was pondering Saul’s words. “Next time you go see this man, maybe Lizzie and me can come with you and hear what he has to say.”
“It don’t work that way. We have to go into Fairmont one at a time. The white folks around here don’t like to see a whole gang of us Negroes all together.”
“Maybe we can go right after supper some evening when the chores are done,” Otis said. “Think the man will be there after supper?”
“He lives upstairs above his office. It’s in that little brick building that used to belong to the railroad. Know which one I mean? Right behind the train station?”
“I think so.”
“You can’t miss it. And the man should be there most all of the time.”
They talked for a while longer, catching up on the news and telling stories from the old days. It was good to see Otis laughing with his brother again. The night didn’t seem quite as dark on the way home, but Lizzie still didn’t like the idea of walking all the way into Fairmont.
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