toward the end of the war; he died with me owing him two taws and a clay, which I would gladly put on his grave today, could I but find it. I was busier than a one-armed blacksmith, since I had to deal with the mules and horses (doubled in number) morning and night, and dinner from eleven to three. I got out of washing up, though, since Mama had hired two girls. War times are flush times in the livery business. Deihl was off almost every day in the Valley buying up horses and contracting for hay. I missed the old man around the stable. Except with Sees Her, or any troubled horse, he was a far better hand with horses than I, since he genuinely liked and understood the beasts, and I was always faking it, finding them the only living thing dumber than wood. With Sees Her gone, all I did was throw them hay and water. I never took time to rub them down or look at their hooves, though the militia and government men didn’t mind and seemed to care as little about their animals as I did. These were the first strange days, great-grandson, of the war we didn’t yet realize was a war.
Then late one afternoon while I was watering the horses I heard a Tidewater voice say the word ‘war’ as if it had three syllables, and I froze as still as a deer. I was in full view of two men across the barn, but if you have ever been a twelve-year-old African in a white man’s country, you know what it is to be invisible. Just to make sure, though, I backed up between two horses and started rubbing them down, which would have alarmed any more intelligent animals, since I had never laid on them with a brush in my life. Under their bellies, far off under the hayloft, I could barely see two pairs of English-style boots facing each other, but barn sound is funny, and I could hear their voices as if I were standing next to them. They were planning an ambush that night out the Old Quarry Road, where they had intelligence that Brown’s men were coming down nightly for supplies. From the amount of tack and horses, I figured their force was about thirty men, as big as Brown’s whole army! When Deihl came back, they contracted for all our horses, leaving their own behind. I suppose one of the benefits of being in the government militia is that you subject a rented horse to fire and not your own. I was until almost dark getting the tack and mounts together; meanwhile I was burning inside. I had to tell someone. The only person I could trust, who would know what to do or who to tell, was Cricket; but he was three miles away at Green Gables, and it was already getting dark. I was still trying to decide what to do when Mama called me to help with the dinner spread. Something told me not to answer. It was dark by the time I got to Green Gables, out of breath all the way, and to my dismay Cricket was gone; running about everywhere, I checked down by the slough and out in the woods. There was no one else I trusted to tell. Cricket trusted the old granny woman, but I didn’t trust her or anyone. Cricket had said the fire two weeks before had cleared things up between those who poured water on the fire and those who ‘blowed on it,’ but this didn’t help me, since I didn’t know who had taken which side. Besides, things had changed. Nobody on the plantation seemed to want to talk to me, or I to them. I sneaked home on foot, heartsick, hating all the slaves; and surprisingly, got neither a scolding nor a whipping from my mother, who thought I was coming down with something and sent me to bed. I crept on up to my corner of the loft, and maybe I was sick: I went right to sleep. It was almost dawn when I was awakened by the sound of horses. They didn’t sound right. I peered out through the crack under the eave I had opened up for summer and saw a big bay eating Mama’s roses, his head not five feet from mine, nosing the roses, then gobbling them down. He was riderless, and his saddle had slipped down under his belly, and his back was smeared with blood. Two
Then late one afternoon while I was watering the horses I heard a Tidewater voice say the word ‘war’ as if it had three syllables, and I froze as still as a deer. I was in full view of two men across the barn, but if you have ever been a twelve-year-old African in a white man’s country, you know what it is to be invisible. Just to make sure, though, I backed up between two horses and started rubbing them down, which would have alarmed any more intelligent animals, since I had never laid on them with a brush in my life. Under their bellies, far off under the hayloft, I could barely see two pairs of English-style boots facing each other, but barn sound is funny, and I could hear their voices as if I were standing next to them. They were planning an ambush that night out the Old Quarry Road, where they had intelligence that Brown’s men were coming down nightly for supplies. From the amount of tack and horses, I figured their force was about thirty men, as big as Brown’s whole army! When Deihl came back, they contracted for all our horses, leaving their own behind. I suppose one of the benefits of being in the government militia is that you subject a rented horse to fire and not your own. I was until almost dark getting the tack and mounts together; meanwhile I was burning inside. I had to tell someone. The only person I could trust, who would know what to do or who to tell, was Cricket; but he was three miles away at Green Gables, and it was already getting dark. I was still trying to decide what to do when Mama called me to help with the dinner spread. Something told me not to answer. It was dark by the time I got to Green Gables, out of breath all the way, and to my dismay Cricket was gone; running about everywhere, I checked down by the slough and out in the woods. There was no one else I trusted to tell. Cricket trusted the old granny woman, but I didn’t trust her or anyone. Cricket had said the fire two weeks before had cleared things up between those who poured water on the fire and those who ‘blowed on it,’ but this didn’t help me, since I didn’t know who had taken which side. Besides, things had changed. Nobody on the plantation seemed to want to talk to me, or I to them. I sneaked home on foot, heartsick, hating all the slaves; and surprisingly, got neither a scolding nor a whipping from my mother, who thought I was coming down with something and sent me to bed. I crept on up to my corner of the loft, and maybe I was sick: I went right to sleep. It was almost dawn when I was awakened by the sound of horses. They didn’t sound right. I peered out through the crack under the eave I had opened up for summer and saw a big bay eating Mama’s roses, his head not five feet from mine, nosing the roses, then gobbling them down. He was riderless, and his saddle had slipped down under his belly, and his back was smeared with blood. Two
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