Page 23 of The Memories of Bellevue (The Bellevue Trilogy)

As Jeyne pumped water from the well, she continued to replay the conversation with Thomas in her mind. It had been decided that he would write to his Uncle David in Boston and ask for his advice and assistance since it was clear that they couldn’t make the journey to Boston without some form of help. Thomas had enough money to get them there, but that wasn’t going to last beyond the trip since most of his inheritance money was tied up in an account he couldn’t get to.

“My uncle has friends and connections,” Thomas had said, vaguely remembering how his uncle told him of a secret, underground “railroad” that helped get slaves to freedom. All this gave Jeyne hope as she walked back to the cabin. She was so deep in thought that she did not the dark figure approaching from behind.

Jeyne swirled around and saw a man she knew all too well.

“Where ya’ goin’?”

“Home, Willie,” she replied, making no effort to hide her irritation.

Willie was known as the “driver”, the one often used by the overseer to give whippings to slaves who didn’t work hard enough. Willie wasn’t as tough as some drivers and lessened the blow of the whip as much as he could, but that didn’t stop some of the slaves from privately resenting him.

“Let me carry dat,” Willie reached for Jeyne’s bucket but she tightened her grip on the handle. “What? I ain’t good enough to carry yo’ bucket no mo’?”

“Who be carryin’ it for me when you ain’t around?” she asked him, reverting to slave talk. Even though Thomas was tutoring her on how to speak properly, she knew the risks of “talkin’ white.”

“I’m here now and I want to carry it.”

Jeyne handed Willie the bucket. “Here, since ya’ need so much to do.”

Willie flashed a wide grin and walked alongside her. “What you doin’ out here in the dark anyway?”

“You my keeper now?”

“In a way.”

“I don’t need no protectin’.”

“Yeah, ya’ do.

“From who?”

“Ya’self.”

“What you talkin’ ‘bout now?”

“You an’ Massa Thomas,” Willie said casually.

Jeyne stopped walking. “What you know about it?”

“Enough. Enough to know ya’ playin’ with fire.”

“Gimme back my bucket.”

“Why?” Willie asked, tightening his grip on the bucket.

Jeyne sighed. “Just gimme back my water. I ain’t gotta explain nothin’ to you.”

“No, I said I got it—”

“Give it to me! Look at you…spillin’ my mama’s water all over the place—”

“Spilt water ain’t your problem,”

“Give me the bucket, Willie.”

“Girl, I’m tryin’ ta’ tell ya’ somethin’. “

“I don’t need you to tell me nothin’!

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