Chapter 11
Taking note of the scenery proved fruitless because every tree, flower, and shrub was unfamiliar. The only marking Eubie had was the North Star that indicated whether he was either close or far away from home. He had no idea why he was being referred to as a buffalo, yet he found this behavior much more appealing thanthe degradation he received from Speck. According to Miss Porterhouse, Indians and slaves had much in common because they were both victimized. And while some Indians learned very quickly the benefits of owning slaves, it made no sense to Eubie to oppress someone when you’ve been oppressed yourself.
Even though Eubie’s bottom was sore from riding bare back, the Brave refused to let him walk. “Buffalo need strength,” he said doubling the blanket so that the ride would be more comfortable. Whenever the Brave hunted for food, he always gave Eubie the favored parts. It was while the meat was roasting under a moonlit sky that Eubie learned somewhat of his fate. “Magic,” the Brave said as he tugged at Eubie’s hair.
“Ain’t no magic, jes’ hair,” Eubie said cramming the rope-like vines beneath his hat.
“Sacred buffalo. Many riches.” Eubie held that thought while remembering from Speck that the magic was in the believing. If this Brave thought that his hair held magic, who was he to prove otherwise?
When they arrived at the peaceful Indian settlement with its teepees and lean-tos, several of the Brave’s clan clamored around. They poked and prodded and pulled on Eubie’s hair until a large shadow loomed before them. His eyes followed the imposing shade until it exposed the Chief, a regal elder whose fanciful headdress had so many feathers that the slightest breeze would have carried him away.
There was an awkward moment of silence between the Chief and the Brave until the younger mustered enough courage to speak. “I bring Buffalo spirit magic,” he said thrusting Eubie in front of him. “Good luck.”
The chief eyed Eubie from head to toe then ran his calloused hands through the boy’s disheveled kinks. He then pinched Eubie to see if his color was true. “Humph,” was all that he would say before walking away without a word. The young Brave knew that it was only a matter of time before the ancestors would decide both his and Eubie’s fate.
Days before the ceremony that would decide his destiny, Eubie had full range of the encampment. Everywhere he went, he was treated with reverence for the natives truly believed his hair contained a cure for all of their ills. Long after the arrival of European settlers, most tribes continued to struggle with illness not indigenous to their people. Additionally, they had to contend with abandoning their land and were often captured as slaves themselves. There were a few tribes who learned some of the settler’s evil ways. Eubie was glad that this was not one of them.
It wasn’t until he happened upon nearby woods when he heard sweet humming. “You bes’ have some powerful magic.” In a clearing close to the compound, Eubie found a young girl, black as night, painstakingly crafting a pair of moccasins. She wore traditional Native American clothing; but her features, broad nose and thick lips, were undeniably African. Two jet black braids that hung past her waist were slightly curled which indicated that she might be of mixed blood. The long, thick, dark lashes that framed her liquid brown eyes made it seem that they could melt anything placed before them. With a winning smile and luminescent teeth she needed little adornment, but the bright blue beaded necklace that hung from her neck made her smooth ebony skin radiate. Whether it was her hypnotic beauty or the radiant necklace that she wore, Eubie felt a familiarity – a sense of home especially when she smiled. There was no indication that she was suffering, yet he felt that there was something slightly amiss.
“Where you come from?” Eubie asked.
“Here.”
“These aint’ yo kin”
“They is.”
She looked as if she wanted to say more, but the Brave rode up from behind. “Spirits are ready,” he said motioning to Eubie to hurry. Before Eubie left, he looked at her luminous eyes that expressed a sense of urgency that he was quite familiar with.
Drums beat loudly as the village Elders sat in a circle. Eubie sat squeezed between the Chief and the Brave. A Medicine Man with an ominous painted face began chanting while shaking his medicine stick directly at Eubie. He took a powdery substance from the pouch he wore around his neck and blew it straight into Eubie’s face. To help calm his fears, Eubie tried not to look directly at the wildly dancing figure. Instead, he kept his eyes focused on the immense bonfire that shot blazing embers straight into the night sky. The Medicine Man dangled a knife adorned with beads and feathers and pulled Eubie’s head back by its wooly mane. Then in one fell swoop, quickly cut off a large wad. As soon as the Shaman was upon him, he left abruptly clutching a handful of hair. After a few chants and several intricate dance steps around the fire, he eventually stopped and threw the hair into the fire. Through his terror, Eubie thought he saw the Hoodoo Lady’s face in the flames. Medicine Man signaled for the drumming to stop. “The Great Buffalo has spoken.” Slowly, he walked over to the Chief and whispered in his ear. The Chief rose and stared at his son before saying, “Buffalo Hair, scared rabbit.”
Once again, the defeated Brave had dishonored his father and embarrassed himself. His father’s swift retreat signaled that there wasn’t any magic - nothing to prove that he was a son worthy to lead their people. Yet, he ran after him hoping for some recognition for his effort. The Chief heard the urgent footsteps and stopped. Seeing his son’s eyes beg for forgiveness he said, “It is the ancestors you must make proud, not me. You know what to do.”
The Brave hung his head in shame. What was once a heartfelt welcome turned to pity then remorse as the clan turned their backs on him. Eubie knew that the Brave, like himself, longed for his father’s approval. When the Brave lead his horse to a hitching post, Eubie followed. “He believed,” Eubie said not wanting his new friend to feel that he had failed altogether. “Fo’ one flap of a Hummin’ bird’s wing, you gots respect.” The Brave thought about this for a moment, but was so consumed with his failing that he couldn’t make any sense in Eubie’s reasoning. He tied his horse to the post; then not wanting to let his father down again, tied Eubie up as well.
“Whatchu doin’? Eubie cried in disbelief. “I thought we was friends.”
“No buffalo magic, no friend. I Master now.” At that point Eubie understood the look in the beautiful maiden’s eyes. This tribe did have slaves, and he was about to become one of them.
“I’s mah own Master,” Eubie fumed. He realized that he was in no better position than he was with Speck. Only this time instead of being paraded around like an exotic animal, he’d be reduced to doing the Brave’s bidding whatever that may be.
Eubie was sorry that he hadn’t fully thought out his escape from the plantation. He always believed that now that he was free, his life would be full of wonder and awe - certainly not one of having to answer to someone. His father’s words, those of Ms. Porterhouse and the bellowing of Preacher Hicks coursed through his head until he no longer had any hope of freedom. His legs were cramped for the rope wasn’t long enough and bound so tightly that his wrists became raw and it was too short to allow him to lie in the dirt. For the rest of the evening and into the wee hours of the morning, he thought about the Hoodoo Lady telling him that the adventure he seeks will not set him free.
Suddenly, the horses shook their manes as the wind picked up and spread the sweet smell of nightshade. Out of the corner of one eye, Eubie caught something move. To quiet his fears, he told himself it was one of the mangy dogs that lay about or a coyote from the hills. Whatever it was, he kept catching glimpses of it until it finally was upon him. “Be free,” a soft voice said. When Eubie turned his cramped body around, there stood the African-Indian maiden basking in the moonlight. Quickly she cut the cord and handed him a pair of moccasins. “Walk fast, soft like deer.” Overwhelmed by her generosity and beauty, Eubie pulled out the puzzle box and handed it to her. She kissed him gently on the cheek, then as mysteriously as she appeared, a slight breeze folded her lithe body back into the shadows. Her touch was what made Eubie realize that she knew what it meant to be held captive. He fled before the rooster could get his first crow out.
