Upcoming Novel Teaser

George rode his horse hard along the edge of the woods towards the opening that led to a trailhead.
George knew these woods well and spent many late falls and winters in them hunting alongside his father and Abraham Jackson. Sometimes Abraham Jackson would hire Quapaw Indians from Jefferson County to lead the hunts, and when they did, George would watch the red men’s every move, picking up on their skills for tracking and stalking prey.

He knew that Sarah and the small boy would not be able to move fast through the fresh, dense
undergrowth.  Once George picked up their first few steps into the vast pillars of pines and cedar trees, he knew exactly where to cut them off. He reached the trailhead and unmounted his beautiful black stallion and tied him tightly to a large oak tree.

George walked a mile down the trail, then veered off into the thicket moving slowly and intently.
Every step was quick and smooth, like a mountain lion striding proudly through his rocky kingdom. After some time, George could see the small opening. He knew they would cross and crept up carefully. As he did, he noticed a copperhead slithering frighteningly close to him. The poisonous snake was startled by him and
curled up to strike. As the copperhead made his move, George jumped quickly to his left, landing loudly on some decaying tree branches that littered the ground.

The noise put Sarah on high alert, and she jumped to her feet, grabbing Jacob by the hand. Sarah started running as fast as she could. George was still about sixty yards away from her and started to run after her, forgetting all about the snake. Sarah’s heart was pounding out of her chest. She was so frightened that she did not notice little Jacob’s legs bleeding badly from scratches caused by the briars. The small cuts were bothering him so badly that he began to yell and scream. Sarah, in one swift motion, swooped him up in her arms. She tried as hard as she could to keep up her pace, but it was to no avail. Sarah’s pregnant body was worn out and each step became slower and slower.

As the footsteps behind her grew faster and closer, Sarah shook off all fear. She did not regret what she had done. After ten more steps she stopped running and turned to face her captor. Sarah stood straight and proud, like a lioness with her powerful jaws clinching ever so gently around her cub’s neck. George, seeing this, stopped his running as well and walked up to the mother and child, out of breath and confused.

George could not understand why she had stopped running or how she could be so confident in the
midst of being caught. No, his mind just could not fathom the idea of a strong nigger woman with as much courage and power that lived in Sarah’s eyes and posture. They were now just three short feet away from each other. The African descendant and the Irish man stood there staring at each other for a brief number of seconds. In those moments, you could hear the wilderness around them come alive. Their ears
were filled with the sweet sounds of singing birds, croaking frogs, and dancing crickets. It was as if God was whispering to them both, peeking through this stillness that surrounded them.

Then Sarah set little Jacob on the ground next to her, placing him on his feet and held his hand. Without wasting any more time, she spoke in a stern tone saying, “You are no less a slave then me and yet, instead of helping me and my people, you work for the men that keep us both in bondage. I must ask why.” George was stunned. He had never heard any niggers on the plantation speak in such a way to a white person. Normally, any kind of rise out of a slave and he would whip them or give them a hard lick to the face. That was all it took to remind them of their proper place. But Sarah’s words had a certain air about them that resonated with a deeper part of him. George could not put in words what he was going through to respond.

He did resent the work that was forced on him, when it came to brutal punishment of slaves. The years of whipping, beating, and mutilating to keep a roof over his head had taken their toll on him. Finally, George collected himself and responded, “That may be true, but you are still just a nigger girl and me a dirty Irish man. If I do not obey and do what I'm told, I will lose everything.”

 Sarah replied, “So you will sell your soul in order to keep an empty house on another man’s land.” Now George started to grow angry. Sarah’s words cut like a knife. George was not a religious man, but the thought of a nigger girl that could speak with such clarity and eloquence infuriated him. Here he was an uneducated white Irish man who had known nothing but driving slaves for other men. Who would have thought that he would be questioned and checked by a nigger girl, who obviously spent more time around rich white men than him.

George grumbled back, “You speak well for a nigger girl that will never know freedom. What right do you have to ask me these questions? Have you forgotten your place? I am still white, and you are still just a nigger, which means I can do whatever I want to you. That boy of yours and nobody would lay a finger on me.”

Sarah snapped, “You forget that I carry Master James’ child, and I am his most valuable slave. If you were to harm me before this baby was born, you would lose your home for sure. I am not going to resist; I will come willingly with my son. Master James never has to know, but answer me this: Who is truly losing their idea of freedom here today, you or me?”

George went silent and hastily started leading the mother and child back through the thicket, carrying little Jacob on his back. Once they reached the trail, they walked in silence. After some time, they arrived at the oak tree where George tied up his stallion. He helped the mother and child on to the saddle and
took the reins in his hands. He led them gently back to Thomas’s humble cabin and dropped them off just as the moon took her rightful place on the edge of the horizon.

Things were quiet and peaceful back on the plantation. The only sounds heard were little Martha Ann’s whining through the bathroom window of the mansion. George mounted his horse and rode back to his home. Along his journey he recalled the events of the day. Sarah’s words rang in his ears and he asked himself the same question repeatedly, “Am I free? Am I free?”