be sure, but I don’t recall him gnawing off a man’s ear.” Thomas Henry lowered his voice so that only Gabriel could hear him. “I can tolerate your night walking to the colonel’s place, your impending marriage, which will yield me nothing, and even your sauntering here, there, and yon as you please. But this . . . this business with Johnson.” Thomas Henry’s temple swelled up and throbbed out in time with his heart. The young planter pressed his forehead against the bars. His voice cracked. “My peers whisper behind my back. My future father-in-law reprimanded me in public. The gentlemen of the court — my father’s friends —” Thomas Henry stopped talking when the jailer passed by.
Sometimes when Gabriel listened out the cell window, he heard the people talking nonsense — the boatmen, the washerwomen, the laborers of Richmond. Yet sometimes they spoke of a faraway island, convinced their freedom would soon come. And sometimes in the mornings, he heard them sing of Gabriel and glory and righteous peals of thunder. He needed out.
Gabriel turned back over and said to Thomas Henry, “I got five hundred hidden away. I can get you your money only if you get me out.” He stood up, and the usually unflappable rodents scattered away under the bed and back into the walls.
After the court released them, Thomas Henry sat ready to drive back to Brookfield in the same cart that had brought Gabriel to Richmond when he was a boy. The leather seat was now torn, its stuffing falling out, and the bay mare’s muzzle was turning white.
Gabriel bypassed Thomas Henry and headed east down Main Street, toward Jacob Kent’s forge, in the opposite direction from Brookfield.
The Prosser cart pulled up beside him. “Stop! Gabriel, get in here right now!” Thomas Henry shouted while he fought to bring Old Major’s bay mare to a halt. “Your pride and your insolence have cost you an awful lot lately.”
Gabriel kept walking.
“Do you want to end up back in jail?” Thomas Henry stood shouting in the gig.
He kept walking.
“Are you a common criminal, then?”
People around them stopped minding their business to watch the quarrel unfolding. A constable stepped up to Gabriel’s elbow. Still Gabriel kept walking.
“Get in,” Thomas Henry ordered.
He refused. “I’ll earn you better here in Richmond with Jacob Kent than in Caroline or Hanover. You want your money, you leave me be.” Gabriel eyed the constable, who stood ready to assist Thomas Henry, eager to subdue Gabriel. “Leave me be, Master. ”
He did not look back again, even when Thomas Henry called after him, “Wait, Gabriel. We can work this out. Wait.”
I have waited too long for too little, Gabriel thought. He neared Jacob’s forge and said out loud, to no one but himself, “My plan has changed.”
Again, Gabriel took his problem to the fire and the anvil.
GABRIEL HAD seen Charles Quersey before and shod his stallion, but Jacob had always dealt with the Frenchman directly. This time, Quersey stopped in the smithy to have his pistol repaired and asked for Gabriel.
“I’ve heard about you,” Quersey said. “Are you able to read?” The man handed Gabriel a leaflet telling of America’s new alliance with Saint Domingue.
The leaflet was old, from the springtime, yet still Gabriel’s spirit was ripe to hear and ready to read how his own liberty was entwined with the now-free Caribbean island.
Gabriel touched the paper to his heart the way Ma used to touch her Bible, then handed the leaflet back to Quersey.
Quersey pressed the page back into Gabriel’s hand and also a small card bearing his name. “We are sons of liberty, Mister Gabriel. To truly be American, to be truly French, is to be free. I will not rest until every man is free. And you?” The French visitor left the forge without his gun.
Later, Gabriel asked Jacob, “Do you know Charles Quersey?”
“The Frenchman? Said to have been at Yorktown when ’Wallis surrendered.
Sometimes when Gabriel listened out the cell window, he heard the people talking nonsense — the boatmen, the washerwomen, the laborers of Richmond. Yet sometimes they spoke of a faraway island, convinced their freedom would soon come. And sometimes in the mornings, he heard them sing of Gabriel and glory and righteous peals of thunder. He needed out.
Gabriel turned back over and said to Thomas Henry, “I got five hundred hidden away. I can get you your money only if you get me out.” He stood up, and the usually unflappable rodents scattered away under the bed and back into the walls.
After the court released them, Thomas Henry sat ready to drive back to Brookfield in the same cart that had brought Gabriel to Richmond when he was a boy. The leather seat was now torn, its stuffing falling out, and the bay mare’s muzzle was turning white.
Gabriel bypassed Thomas Henry and headed east down Main Street, toward Jacob Kent’s forge, in the opposite direction from Brookfield.
The Prosser cart pulled up beside him. “Stop! Gabriel, get in here right now!” Thomas Henry shouted while he fought to bring Old Major’s bay mare to a halt. “Your pride and your insolence have cost you an awful lot lately.”
Gabriel kept walking.
“Do you want to end up back in jail?” Thomas Henry stood shouting in the gig.
He kept walking.
“Are you a common criminal, then?”
People around them stopped minding their business to watch the quarrel unfolding. A constable stepped up to Gabriel’s elbow. Still Gabriel kept walking.
“Get in,” Thomas Henry ordered.
He refused. “I’ll earn you better here in Richmond with Jacob Kent than in Caroline or Hanover. You want your money, you leave me be.” Gabriel eyed the constable, who stood ready to assist Thomas Henry, eager to subdue Gabriel. “Leave me be, Master. ”
He did not look back again, even when Thomas Henry called after him, “Wait, Gabriel. We can work this out. Wait.”
I have waited too long for too little, Gabriel thought. He neared Jacob’s forge and said out loud, to no one but himself, “My plan has changed.”
Again, Gabriel took his problem to the fire and the anvil.
GABRIEL HAD seen Charles Quersey before and shod his stallion, but Jacob had always dealt with the Frenchman directly. This time, Quersey stopped in the smithy to have his pistol repaired and asked for Gabriel.
“I’ve heard about you,” Quersey said. “Are you able to read?” The man handed Gabriel a leaflet telling of America’s new alliance with Saint Domingue.
The leaflet was old, from the springtime, yet still Gabriel’s spirit was ripe to hear and ready to read how his own liberty was entwined with the now-free Caribbean island.
Gabriel touched the paper to his heart the way Ma used to touch her Bible, then handed the leaflet back to Quersey.
Quersey pressed the page back into Gabriel’s hand and also a small card bearing his name. “We are sons of liberty, Mister Gabriel. To truly be American, to be truly French, is to be free. I will not rest until every man is free. And you?” The French visitor left the forge without his gun.
Later, Gabriel asked Jacob, “Do you know Charles Quersey?”
“The Frenchman? Said to have been at Yorktown when ’Wallis surrendered.
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