He seen her. Walking through the woods as if she did not have a care in the world. He seen her; she looked like $400.00. Yeah, he was sure he could get $400.00 for her. He would not even bother to find out whom she belonged to. Just grab her. Grab her and sell her. Hell, it was Christmas Day. He had to get up to his wife and two daughters, and have nothing for them. Nothing. Absolutely nothing. Lord, they were lucky if they had something to eat today. He had to get out of the house. He grabbed his rifle, and called his hound. Then he seen her. Francis Malone was not a stupid man. He was just an unlucky man. Poor cracker. That is what he was called. That is what his Daddy was called.
The only work his father ever got was catching runaways, or as an overseer. Francis remembered growing up moving from plantation to plantation. He remembered the fights between his parents. Once, his mother called his father a nigger. This was the first time he saw his father hit his mother. Francis remembered thinking maybe she was right. The rich white kids treated him no better than they treated their slaves. They would even play with the slave children, but not him. Their parents wouldn’t allow it. The parents rather they spend their time with slaves, instead of those dirty cracker kids. He swore he wouldn’t be the man his father was. He wasn’t. He was less. His father always put food on the table. His father always had something to give on Christmas. His father never looked into the eyes of a hopeless woman and hungry kids. But not today. Today he would go home and he will have something to give his wife. He will have food and toys for his beautiful girls. All he had to do was stay quiet and stay back. Ease up on them quietly. Then jump. That’s what his daddy used to say. That’s what he was doing.
Chloe knew he was there. She didn’t turn around to see how far back. But she knew he was there. He had been following her for about half an hour. She knew he had a dog; she wasn’t sure how many. Probably one. If he had more than one, he would have set them on her. One dog had a good chance of being killed. One woman, being followed by a man with one dog. She did not increase her pace. She did not run. This man just might have one gun. Surprisingly, she was not afraid. She did not know what she was going to do. But she was certain that she would never be a slave again. After this decision was made, she was quite at ease. Living in the woods had changed her. Seven weeks of scrounging for food like an animal. Seven weeks of winter weather with no shelter. Seven weeks with no one to talk to. She was a different woman. She had tasted a live animal. She had felt the blood dripping down her chin; so surprised to have caught the small wild pig, she bit into it.
She had just started her woman business and had terrible pains in her stomach that combined with the hunger and loneliness. She grabbed the animal and bit it. Of course after the initial bite, she realized what she was doing and killed the animal. She had gone 5 days without food and had eaten raw meat before, on the plantation before she was sold to John Cummings. Lord, she could never tell Iron this, could she? First she would have to be in Iron’s arms to find out. That was where she was walking to and one man with one dog and one gun were not strong enough to stop her.
She was getting a little too far ahead. He was going to have to speed up. He wasn’t losing this one. Not a woman. Though some of those nigger wenches were strong as men. This one looked strong though she was slender and dark. Dark ones sometimes you could sell for a little more, as a breeder. Now she was reaching in that sack she had on her back. If she had a gun he would shoot her in the shoulder. Ah, no weapon. Looked like she was getting something to eat.