Free The Good Lord Bird by James McBride Page A

wobbling so bad—it just about come clean off—before he stopped. He jumped down, pulled a stick from the thickets, stuck it into the pin hole, and commenced to banging it into place. I ran up on him.
    â€œI got business, child,” he said, chinking away at the wheel. He wouldn’t look up at me.
    â€œI ain’t a girl.”
    â€œWhatever you think you is, honey, I don’t think it’s proper that you unstring that dress from ’round yourself in front of ol’ Nigger Bob—a married man.” He paused a minute, glanced around, then added, “Less’n you want to, of course.”
    â€œYou got a lot of salt talking that way,” I said.
    â€œYou the one asking for favors.”
    â€œI’m trying to get to Dutch’s Crossing.”
    â€œFor what?”
    â€œI live there. I’m Gus Shackleford’s boy.”
    â€œThat’s a lie. Old Gus is dead. And he ain’t have no girl. Had a boy. Wasn’t worth shit neither, that child.”
    â€œThat’s a hell of a thing to say ’bout somebody you don’t know.”
    â€œI don’t know you, child. You a sassy thing. How old are you?”
    â€œIt don’t matter. Take me back to Dutch’s. He’ll give you a little something for me.”
    â€œI wouldn’t ride to Dutch’s for a smooth twenty dollars. They’ll kill a nigger in there.”
    â€œHe won’t bother you. It’s Old John Brown he’s after.”
    At the mention of that name, Bob glanced around, taking stock up and down the trail, making sure nobody was rolling toward us. The trail was empty.
    â€œ
The
John Brown?” he whispered. “He’s really ’round these parts?”
    â€œSurely. He kidnapped me. Made me wear a dress and bonnet. But I escaped that murdering fool.”
    â€œWhy?”
    â€œYou see how he got me dressed.”
    Bob looked at me closely, then sighed, then whistled. “There’s killers all up and down these plains,” he said slowly. “Ask the red man. Anybody’ll say anything to live. What would John Brown want with you anyhow? He need an extra girl to work his kitchen?”
    â€œIf I’m tellin’ a lie I hope I drop down dead after I tell it. I ain’t a girl!” I managed to pull the bonnet back off my head.
    That shook him some. He peered at me close, then stuck his face into mine and it hit him then. His eyes got wide. “What the devil got into you?” he said.
    â€œWant me to show you my privates?”
    â€œSpare me, child. I takes your word for it. I wouldn’t want to see your privates any more than I’d want to stick my face in Dutch Henry’s Tavern. Why you paddling ’round like that? Was John Brown gonna run you north?”
    â€œI don’t know. He just murdered three fellers up about five miles from here. I seen that with my own eyes.”
    â€œWhite fellers?”
    â€œIf it look white and smell white, you can bet it ain’t buzzard.”
    â€œYou sure?”
    â€œJames Doyle and his boys,” I said. “Deadened ’em with swords.”
    He whistled softly. “Glory,” he murmured.
    â€œSo you’ll take me back to Dutch’s?”
    He didn’t seem to hear me. He seemed lost in thought. “I heard John Brown was about these parts. He’s something else. You ought to be grateful, child. You met him and all?”
    â€œMet him? Why you think I’m dressed like a sissy. He—”
    â€œShit! If I could get Old John Brown to favor me and carry me to freedom, why, I’d dress up as a girl every day for ten years. I’d be thoroughly a girl till I got weak from it. I’d be a girl for the rest of my life. Anything’s better than bondage. Your best bet is to go back with him.”
    â€œHe’s a murderer!”
    â€œAnd Dutch ain’t? He’s riding on Brown now. Got a whole posse looking for ’em.