Salvation of Miss Lucretia Read online

  “Dey ain’t worth you boys getting hurt over. Cudjoe is a mean man. If it had been morning ’stead of night when he got here, I would have give him a good dose of my potion, and we could have left, but we can’t go traipsing through de woods at night.”

  “Yes’m,” Poudlum said. “We’ll do whatever you think is best.”

  Poudlum turned toward me, and said, “What I was trying to signal you was that Cudjoe actually believes in voodoo.”

  “He does?” I asked.

  “Course he does. Remember how he acted when the stool broke. He didn’t even check to see if it was already broke, he just accepted it was voodoo.”

  “So what does that mean?”

  “It means he’s a danger to us and we need to get away from here the first chance we get.”

  “You mean tonight?”

  “I do, cause I don’t want to stay cooped up in here with him after he gets all liquored up. No telling what he would do then.”

  “Ain’t but one way out of here, Poudlum, and that’s through that front door. You know he’ll be watching that.”

  We were both astounded when Miss Lucretia said, “I can show y’all another way out.”

  Chapter 11

  The Disappearance

  Before Miss Lucretia could divulge her secret to us, Cudjoe came roaring back in the door, and said, “How come you got dat big un in de cage outside, Auntie? I thought you always kept one in here wid you.”

  I could tell Miss Lucretia didn’t want to answer his question, but she did, and she did it truthfully. “I moved it outside ’cause de boys didn’t want it in here where dey sleeps.”

  Cudjoe gave her an incredulous look before he said, “De boys! What de boys want! How come you, a voodoo queen, catering to a cracker and a little Uncle Tom?”

  I noticed his hand was trembling with anger when he paused for another draught of the strong liquor. Some of it trickled down his chin as he set the jar down. He wiped it away with the back of his hand, lowered himself onto the stool, and said, “Well, Auntie?”

  “Dese boys ain’t done nothing wrong. Dey ain’t hurt nobody, dey ain’t stole nothing from me, and dey ain’t told no lies.”

  Cudjoe’s eyes narrowed, and he sat there for a few moments like he was thinking about what Miss Lucretia had just said. Finally, he seemed to have gotten his mind wrapped around it, and he exploded, “Is you saying somebody else done dem things to you?”

  His voice got even louder when he spoke again, “You wouldn’t be saying it was me, would you, Auntie? I mean ain’t I de only one who hadn’t done abandoned you?”

  He cast his arm out to indicate all the items he had brought her and said, “How many other folks come through dese woods, ’bout breaking dey backs, so you can have de things you needs. How many? Tell me, Auntie!”

  Now he was waving toward us, when he said, “Would you please tell me what dese two brought you?”

  Silence hung over the room like a funeral parlor while he waited for an answer from Miss Lucretia.

  When she finally spoke her word made my heart soar like a hawk on a high updraft. “Dese two young boys just might have brought me my salvation!”

  I could tell by the way Poudlum was grinning that he was also pleased with her words.

  Cudjoe wasn’t. “Salvation!” he yelled. “Salvation from what, Auntie?”

  Miss Lucretia spoke soft and low when she answered him. “Salvation from all dese fruitless years I have withered away in dese dark woods. Salvation from de countless lonely nights I lay in dis bleak cabin by myself. Salvation from de curse of voodoo taking hold of my life, and salvation from living like a wild person all alone in dis forest for fourteen years. And last of all, nephew, salvation from you and de ones who made me a slave after slavery wuz no more!”

  Why, she almost took my breath away with what she said. And she did take Cudjoe’s away because he sat slack-jawed and not breathing for a full ten seconds before he reacted.

  Unfortunately for Poudlum and me, he turned his anger on us. He turned on the stool to face us, leaned over and pointed a finger in our faces, and said, “Dis is all de fault of you two little devils! Y’all done corrupted de judgment of my auntie, and you gonna pay for it!

  “I wants y’all out of dis cabin right now, and you better run as fast as you can. When I get up in de morning I better not see nor hear hide nor hair of either one of you, or you’ll both be panther bait!”

  He turned back toward Miss Lucretia, and said, “Auntie, I wants you to say goodbye—”

  He stopped in mid sentence and just sat there with his mouth open because she was nowhere to be seen. Miss Lucretia was gone, vanished from the room!

  “Wh-wh-where she go?” Cudjoe stuttered in a hoarse whisper to himself. Then he turned back toward us and repeated the question.

  Poudlum spoke as if in a daze, “She was right here a few seconds ago. Now she’s gone, just disappeared!”

  Miss Lucretia’s disappearance didn’t unnerve me as it seemed to have Cudjoe and Poudlum because I remembered what she had said just before Cudjoe had come back into the cabin. She had a secret way out and it wasn’t the front door. And while we were all distracted, she must have used it.

  While Cudjoe was staring at the empty space she had occupied, I mouthed to Poudlum, “Secret door,” and I could see him relax with relief.

  But there was no relief for Cudjoe. He was in a stunned state as he wandered about the room feeling of empty spaces as if she might be invisible.

  “I asked her not to be using no voodoo while I wuz here,” he mumbled, still talking to himself. “Now she done used some like I ain’t never seen before. She done disappeared, or made herself invisible, one or de other.”

  While Cudjoe was on his knees looking under Miss Lucretia’s bed, I whispered softly to Poudlum, “You think we ought to run for it now?”

  “Not yet,” he whispered back. “Too dangerous.”

  Cudjoe raised his head, and said, “Is y’all whispering over dere?”

  Poudlum didn’t miss a beat. “Not us, but we heard some whispering, too. Maybe it was Miss Lucretia.”

  Cudjoe got up off the floor and stepped quickly toward us, and then he asked Poudlum, “What direction it come from?”

  “Sounded like it was from all over,” he answered.

  “What she say?” Cudjoe asked, his eyes wide with fright.

  “Said you ought to light out of here tonight.”

  “She say iffen I don’t?”

  “Uh huh, she said she was gonna make me and Ted disappear, too, if you didn’t.”

  I was getting the feeling that Poudlum might be going too far, and that feeling was confirmed when Cudjoe said, “I don’t believe I heard dat much whispering. And ain’t no way I’m gonna go stumbling through dem woods at night, but you can bet yo’ boots I’ll be getting out of here at de crack of dawn.

  “I wuz gonna run y’all off tonight, but Auntie’s voodoo done got me too spooked to make any decisions. I got to try and relax some.”

  With that said, he spread the blanket, which had been the curtain, onto the floor next to the front door. After that he took his jar of illicit liquor off the table and placed it on the floor next to the blanket. Before he sat down he leaned the three weapons—his shotgun and our rifles—against the wall on the far side of the blanket from us, along with his pack containing the snakeskins and the bobcat pelts.

  Once Cudjoe got comfortable, he unscrewed the lid of the jar and had another long swallow, and this time he didn’t bother to put the lid back on.

  We all sat in silence for some time during which Cudjoe helped himself to several more deep pulls from the jar.

  When he finally said something, I figured the liquor had loosened his tongue because all he did was ask us a civil question. “Hey, Poudlum, you and Mister Ted really out here squirrel hunting?
Wrong time of the year to be squirrel hunting.”

  “We wasn’t really hunting,” Poudlum said. “We was letting Ted’s dog train my young dog so we can both hire out this fall.”

  “How much y’all get paid?”

  I spoke up this time because I was the one who had done it before. “I get fifty cents to furnish the dog, shake the bushes, and tote the squirrels we get.”

  “Dat ain’t much,” he said. “Just fifty cents fo’ all dat?”

  “You right, it ain’t much,” I told him. “But it’s good to get paid for something you like doing, plus sometimes I get an extra quarter if we bag a bunch of ’em.”

  “You ain’t much better off dan a colored person,” Cudjoe said. “Working fo’ pennies so some white man can go hunting.”

  “Ain’t nothing wrong with working for pay,” Poudlum said. “And it don’t matter who you working for as long as they treat you decent and pay you fair.”

  “You call fifty cents pay as fair?” Cudjoe said with his voice slightly slurred.

  “If that’s what they willing to pay, and if that’s what I’m willing to accept, yes, I do. Besides, don’t nobody make us do it,” Poudlum told him.

  He didn’t have any response to what Poudlum had said, and the room grew silent, except for his occasional slurping from the Mason jar.

  In the dim and flickering lamplight, I saw his eyes flutter, and thought for a moment that he was going to doze off, but then his eyes popped open, and he said, “I tell you boys what, I ain’t gonna run you off tonight. And I didn’t arrive at that decision from de kindness of my heart. To tell the truth, I think I’d be too spooked to spend de night in dis cabin all by myself.

  “Still, I want y’all to know I ain’t too pleased wid all de foolishness y’all done poked into de head of my auntie. See, y’all just don’t understand de way thing are, so I gonna enlighten you,” he said as he drew the liquid in the quart jar down to about mid level.

  “You probably couldn’t even get up off the floor,” Poudlum said. “So how you gonna enlighten anybody?”

  Cudjoe sat up when he heard what Poudlum said, and the edge of hard anger returned to his voice, “You just try me, boy, and I’ll show you how quick I can get up off dis floor!”

  Thank goodness, Poudlum held his tongue, and Cudjoe settled back down on the floor, but it wasn’t long before he started talking again.

  “Y’all needs to understand something. My auntie needs to stay put right here fo’ several reasons. De first is common knowledge. You see, she was banned from colored society ’cause voodoo just ain’t acceptable among them no more. And white folks get real crazy if dey hear of any of us practicing voodoo, along wid most colored folks.

  “Now-a-days dey all go to church, where dey prays, sings, jumps up and down, testify, and den they preach and pray some more till a body just can’t stand it no mo. You go to church, Poudlum?”

  “Uh huh.”

  “You go regular?”

  “Uh huh.”

  “How about you, Mister Ted?”

  “Yeah, I go, too.”

  “Bet you ain’t never been to no colored church.”

  “You would lose that bet,” Poudlum said. “He’s been to my church.”

  “I ain’t never heard of dat before, a white person going to a colored place of worship. I wonder what y’all preachers would think if they knowed y’all wuz on such good terms wid a voodoo queen?”

  We didn’t answer that, and Cudjoe continued, “De other reason my auntie needs to stay right where she is, out in dese dense woods, is ’cause dis is where I needs her to be.

  “As y’all has observed, I take good care of her, and I depend on her fo’ my livelihood. In case y’all ain’t figured it out, I make more on dese skins she gathers fo’ me dan I makes de whole year slaving away at a sawmill. Y’all ever know anybody who works at a sawmill?”

  “My daddy used to work at one,” I told him.

  “And our friend Jake worked there, too,” Poudlum said. “So we know what hard work it is to work at a sawmill.”

  “Who’s Jake?” Cudjoe asked.

  “He was an escaped convict that Poudlum and me helped get out of this county.”

  “Sho’ nuff? Where’d he go?”

  “He went all the way to California,” I said.

  “Wuz he white?”

  “No, he was colored. But we would have helped him regardless of what color he was,” Poudlum said.

  Cudjoe took another sip before he stretched out on his quilt and laid his head on his arm, using it as a pillow. “Seems to me y’all is just two little abolitionists, running around freeing colored escaped convicts and voodoo queens. Well y’all’s career concerning helping my auntie has just come to a screeching halt.

  “I done come to a decision. I’m thinking real clear right now, so here’s what’s gonna happen. Tomorrow morning, if my auntie don’t decide to reappear, y’all gonna cook dis poor old mistreated colored person some breakfast, and then we gonna all hightail it out of dese woods, just de three of us, and leave my auntie here where she belongs.”

  “How much money you get for them rattlesnake skins?” Poudlum asked.

  “You done asked me dat one time, boy, and what did I tell you?”

  “You as much as told us it ain’t none of our business,” Poudlum answered.

  “Den why you asking me again?”

  The liquor had truly loosened Cudjoe’s tongue, and when Poudlum told him we thought he might have changed his mind, he did. “I gets anywhere from eight to ten dollars a skin, depending on de size and condition of each one.”

  “Good Lord!” Poudlum exclaimed. “You got about four hundred dollars worth of skins there.”

  “Plus de bobcat skins,” Cudjoe said. “I ain’t too sure what dey worth. I keep hoping she’ll get me a panther. One of dem black devils would be worth a whole lot.”

  “No wonder you keep coming in here and keeping her here,” Poudlum said.

  “De longer I knows you de smarter you gets, Poudlum. How about you, Mister Ted, you got it figured out yet?”

  I didn’t bother to answer him because he suddenly dropped off to a dead sleep and commenced to snoring.

  “He done passed out,” Poudlum said.

  “Then maybe we ought to ease on out of here right now, dark or not.”

  “I don’t think so,” Poudlum replied.

  “How come?”

  “Two reasons. Number one, he might wake up, and number two, we can’t leave here without Miss Lucretia.”

  After thinking about it, I told Poudlum I agreed with him, and we resolved to spend another night in the cabin and trust to Providence what might happen tomorrow.

  “’Bout what time you think it is?” Poudlum asked.

  “I ’spect it’s nigh on to midnight.”

  “That’s about what I figure. I’m gonna blow this lamp out so we can get some shuteye.”

  “That’s fine with me,” I told him as I snuggled into my quilt.

  Sleep swept over me with the same suddenness as the darkness had when Poudlum blew out the lamp.

  Chapter 12

  A Wingless Dragon

  Apparently Cudjoe had a very strong constitution because he didn’t show any effects from the considerable amount of strong drink he had consumed. He was already up and had a fire going out under the shed when Poudlum and I woke up.

  When we stuck our heads out of the front door, he saw us and called out, “One of y’all go out to de chicken house and gather us ’bout a dozen eggs. De other one come over here and stoke up dis fire for me.”

  I told Poudlum I would gather the eggs and set off toward the chicken pen, where I found a basket hanging on the fence outside the gate. When I went inside the pen the chickens started squawking, flapping their wings, and running about. I ignored them an
d went straight for the coops and gathered up a dozen brown eggs.

  When I exited the pen and while I was closing the gate, I heard a hushed voice coming from the bushes, saying, “Mister Ted! Mister Ted!”

  I walked over and pushed my way through them and there stood Miss Lucretia. “Miss Lucretia,” I said, “are you all right? Where was you all night?”

  “I’s fine, just couldn’t tolerate no mo of Cudjoe, and I got several good places to sleep ’sides dat cabin. Listen, we ain’t got much time or he’ll suspect something. Here’s what you and Poudlum got to do . . .”

  “Hey!” Cudjoe yelled from underneath the shed. “Did you go to roost wid dem chickens? Where dem eggs?”

  “Y’all gots to get away from him,” Miss Lucretia said quickly. “Otherwise he’ll make y’all leave wid him so y’all can’t take me outta dese woods!”

  “Don’t worry,” I told her. “We’ll get away from him and meet you back here at the cabin later.”

  “Bless you, child,” she said. “Now go, hurry!”

  On my way back toward the cabin Old Bill and Rip trotted up next to me, sniffing the egg basket. I made a decision about the dogs at that time, deciding they might could help us by going back to Mister Autrey’s on their own, so I leaned over and whispered into Old Bill’s ear, “Go get ’em! Go home!”

  He hesitated for a moment, then he took off like a blue streak, with Rip hard on his heels.

  When I got back to the shed with the basket of eggs, Cudjoe said, “What took you so long? It wasn’t no Easter egg hunt. All you had to do was gather the eggs.”

  “Uh, I got chicken droppings all on my boots and had to clean them off,” I fibbed.

  He had Miss Lucretia’s big iron skillet on a bed of hot coals with the grease in it spitting and popping, and I had to admit he knew how to cook eggs. He cracked four at a time, fried them up, and actually served Poudlum and me before frying up his own.