A Game of Colours

Chapter 6: Imaginary Friends

Janice's eyes widen in fear. "How do they know you're here?"

"They stopped the trains an hour or so from Tennessee to check cars," says Isaac.

"Roger was on board. He knew we were there, his hound was on to us, but the train left before he could prove it," I confirm.

I squeeze Abby's hand for comfort; knowing how close she was to being sent back.

Janice stares at us curiously. "He's never gone this far before for a few slaves. Why he did now, I can't pretend to understand."

We must be special, I think grimly to myself.

She gives us a curt nod and says, "Come, quickly now. We haven't much time."

We scramble out the back door of the barn and enter the dilapidated, Southern style farm house.

"Quickly!" she hisses, beckoning to a staircase, "Alice and Tom downstairs. Annie, take these three up to the attic. You know where the lever is. Make sure they keep mum, you know how the floorboards creak."

Tom and I give each other a quick nod and follow Janice's instructions. My heart beats furiously and I feel the tension mounting with every passing second.

Just as we reach the last step and enter the cellar, I hear a faint rapping at the door.

"Janice? Janice, open up and don't keep me waitin'!" I shudder at the angry voice of the man.

"Alright, alright, I'm comin', ye arse. I'm an ole lady, ye know!" she shouts, her fear brilliantly masked by her taunting.

I hear the door swing open.

"Roger! Why, it's been ages! What brings you here?"

"Some problems with the business back at Jackson--escaped slaves. Wanted to see if you knew anything. There's a large sum ah money waitin' for the bloke or lass who turns them in, you know, and your farm is gettin' rather run down since the last time I laid eyes on it, reckon your crops ain't doin so well..."

Escaped slaves were valuable to Roger—not only because of money, rather the examples he made of them when they were returned. Janice clears her throat, but says nothing, and I can only pray that she isn't considering his offer.

"So then, you don't reckon you've seen some scrawny kids around here, early this morning? Probably 15 or 16?"

17, I mentally corrected. And I was scrawny because somebody fed me next to nothing.

"Surely you haven't lost ones that young! Jackson Plantation's security is losing its touch, I see. " Janice chuckles, ignoring his question.

 "One of them had a knife according to Frederick, " Roger protests, " There were three or four other slaves helpin' too; said he was overpowered." I can't help but grin to myself at his blatantly obvious lie.  Just me, plain old Alice caused this much embarrassment to them both. I can't imagine the look on Massa Jackson's face when he found out I was missing. 

"Say, where's little Annie? She at her aunt's then?" asks Roger sweetly.

"No no, she's playing in her room," responds Janice.

"I see," Roger muses, clearly not satisfied with her answer.

Janice picks up on his hesitation, then as an afterthought adds, "Annie dear! Could you make some tea for me? I'm feeling a little under the weather".

"Yes Grammy!" shouts Annie, and I hear the stairs creak as she comes down from the attic.

"Shame about her parents, really. Annie's I mean. But that's what they get for dealing with abolitionists and their sort, only likely for them to pick up some disease from the niggers."