Free Dessa Rose by Sherley A. Williams Page B

somewhere in this vicinity.”
    She clutched the bars of the window and peered at him through them. She had not understood the half of what he said, catching only the meaning of “camp” and “runaway.” He stooped awkwardly at the window, his face almost touching his knees. It was a ridiculous posture and she turned her face to hide her grin. “You a real white man?” she asked, turning back, as the thought struck her. “For true? You don’t talk like one. Sometime, I don’t even be knowing what you be saying. You don’t talk like Masa and he a real uppity-up white man, but not like no po buckra, neither. Kaine say it be’s white men what don’t talk white man talk. You one like that, huh?”
    She could hear him suck in his breath before he answered sharply, “I teach your master and his kind how to speak.”
    â€œOh, you a teacher man,” she exclaimed childishly. He was angry and she continued hurriedly, “Was a teacher man on the coffle.” She was grinning in his face now, feeling him hang on her every word. “He teached hisself to read from the Bible, then he preach. But course, that only be to niggas, and he be all right till he want teach other niggas to read the Good Word. That be what he call it, the Good Word; and when his masa find out what he be doing, he be sold south same’s if he teaching a bad word or be a bad nigga or a prime field hand.”
    â€œIs he the one who obtained the file?” the white man asked quickly.
    Dessa laughed tiredly, wanting now only to hurry the white man on his way. “Onliest freedom he be knowing is what he call the righteous freedom. That what the Lawd be giving him or what the masa be giving him and he was the first one the patterrollers killed.” She moved back into the darkness of the cellar, still laughing softly.
    â€œOdessa!” he called again.
    â€œWhatcho want?” she asked moving toward him. “Whatcho want?” stopping just outside the pool of gray light.
    There was a shout from the yard and the white man’s face disappeared from the window. She could see his legs clearly now as his hands brushed at the legs of his trousers. “You will learn what I require when I return,” he flung at her.
    The sound of his departing footsteps was lost in the new song the people had begun during their conversation. Dessa joined in, suddenly jubilant, her voice floating out across the yard.
    Good news, Lawd, Lawd, good news.
    My sister got a seat and I so glad;
    I heard from heaven today.
    Good news, Lawdy, Lawd, Lawd, good news.
    I don’t mind what Satan say
    Cause I heard, yes I heard, well I heard,
    I heard from heaven today.
    On the Trail
    South and West of Linden
    June 30, 1847
    We set out early this morning, picking up the trail of the renegades at the farm where they were last seen. It led us in a southerly direction for most of the day and then, just before we stopped for the night, it turned to the west. The trackers expect to raise some fresher sign of them tomorrow for, by their tracks, they appear laden with supplies and we are not (a fact to which my stomach can well attest. Dried beef and half-cooked, half-warmed beans are not my idea of appetizing fare). And, I am told, if the weather holds humid as it has been and does not rain, their scent will hold fresh for quite a while and the dogs will be able to follow wherever it leads.
    I did see Odessa this morning before we departed. I heard singing and, at first, taking this to be the usual morning serenade of Hughes’ darkies, I took no notice of it. My attention was caught, however, by the plaintive note of this song (a peculiar circumstance, for Hughes, despite his disclaimerto the contrary, does frown on the darkies’ singing any but the liveliest airs). I listened and finally managed to catch the words—something about the suffering of a poor sinner. I had no sooner figured them