The Crucible by Steve Batson
"I ain't gonna let it happen," David Goliath said. " My people is free and if some peckerwood back up in the hills think he gonna keep some slaves hid out and own em, he got another think coming. 'Sides them is good Republican votes and Johnny Reb ain't a gonna stay out of politics forever."
"You're a fool if you head back into those mountains alone. Ain't but two kinds of strangers in those mountains . . . them that dead and them that gonna be."said the High Sheriff.
"I ain't gonna go in alone. There is me and the other U.S. Marshal and you, and we can swear in as many loyal men as we need. If we have to, we can get the army involved. That Captain ain't doing nothing but sitting on his hands drawing pay anyhow. Matter of fact, why don't we go over there and see him? It's eleven in the morning. He oughta be getting up about now," Goliath said.
The High Sheriff and the Marshal walked out of the Old Record Building and headed up the street toward the Mansion House. It would be another sixty or seventy years before most of the public would know that they had been sitting in front of a small Confederate Arsenal, but it mattered not in the late summer of 1870.
They walked down the streets of Greenville consumed with a problem that had been generations in the making and would be generations in the solving. Indeed it may have been the defining issue of the first two or three hundred years of our nations history.
As they walked up the street, they could not see and would never know that fate was closing in on them. They were hung by the noose of their past as tightly as every man always is, no matter where he may find himself in time. They came to the Mansion House and found the man they sought, Commander of the Provost, Greenville, South Carolina. They both agreed on one thing, hero of the Republic or not, he was a decidedly weak man on the issues that mattered most to them. In politics he was a Democrat, but no man living had every heard him say that. In life he was a realist, he understood clearly that men could be driven only so far and it was best if they were not driven at all. He suffered much because of these beliefs, but he was the correct choice for his job as time would tell.
"Good Morning, Captain," said Goliath. "The Sheriff and I have decided that it is time for you and your men to enforce the policy of your government. We have heard time and again about the families who have escaped slavery in one state only to be held in bondage in the other. We are going into the mountains and see at least one group of slaves made free men. We 'spect to see the policy of the government of the United States carried out to the fullest. We know you have
powerful friends, but it is our expectation that you be prepared to ride with us. What do you say?"
"Gentleman, you certainly know how to ruin a late breakfast, " was the
reply. "I have said on many occasions that when you can offer a single witnesses to
support your allegations that free men are being held captive in the mountains, wal, I
will be the first to ride to free them. You have yet to produce a single document to
support these allegations. That is the end of the matter."
"I will investigate in due course and time. As a matter of fact, I expect to receive some correspondence that might help clarify these issues any day. I have told you that as soon as I deem it prudent, I will personally investigate the matters you have brought to my attention."
"I do not agree that the selling of property that may or may not have been the property of the United States Government is a crime and that besides this charge is so ancient as to bear no merit. I do not see any harm brought to anyone by this family named Brookshire that you seem determined to arrest and I will not take my men in harm's way to satisfy what you may consider to be encroachment on your personal interests in the whiskey trade. I hope that I have made myself clear. If you will excuse me, I find I have no more appetite this morning."
The Captain left the table and went to his office. He was tired. Very tired. he could see no use in imposed government. It was better before. Other men and commands had come and gone in Greenville but he stayed on. He understood it and agreed with it but he did not like it. He looked at the letters on his desk. Yes it was here. He sat and read and thought. It was time to make the trip. He needed to go now. He went down to the Duty Lieutenant and told him he would be gone for a few days. He left specific instructions that he was to take no action in his absence save a direct order from the General commanding the department. The Lieutenant was no shavetail, he had been an old army enlisted man like the the Captain. It would be fine. He asked that the Lieutenant meet him at a house on the outskirts of the village and that he have his horse saddled with the oldest serviceable civilian rig he could find and rent. He returned to his room and packed his civilian saddle bags.
The whiskey men gathered at the cove for the hearing, it was a place known to them all. Tol Brookshire told them he weren't paying nobody in Greenville nothing for his whiskey. Sheriff or not. Let 'em come. They all agreed but the fact of the matter was they was losing whiskey and money left and right. Even those that ran legal stills were paying a hefty freight to keep the Sheriffs and Marshals at bay. The regulation of the whiskey trade was in its infancy but regulation is regulation and the people who lived in the corner were not about to be regulated. They had fought wars on two continents over the issue of regulation. Generally when they were involved in a war, it was over the issue of thrashing regulations. Whiskey regulations were particularly repulsive.
Then there was the thing about the blacks. Everyone said Tol had brought them in, and they was his responsibility. Now the Sheriff was asking about him being a slaver. Tol said he could handle it and would. And, that was accepted as being how it should be. Tol left and went down the mountain to his mother's cabin. It was not the same cabin he had always known. A barn had been added in the back and a well dug near the door. She had expanded the one room into a two room dog run to catch the cool of the breeze. She had done well since the store was established. Mr. West came up the mountain once or twice a week to get her to help him with the books. She had taught Mr. West some reading and he already knew his numbers. He was a smart man and the joint enterprise had been a smart thing for all concerned.
Tol was just seeing Mr. West off when the stranger hailed the cabin. "Ho, the cabin!" he said as he rode up from the road.
Tol did not respond. He waited as the man dismounted and tied off the horse. Tol took him in. Soldier or had been. He was sure of that but it told him nothing, for who wasn't or hadn't been a soldier? The man spoke, "I'm looking for the Brookshire home place. Got some business with them, might this be the home."
"It might be," Tol answered, "Who you seeking?"
"Nancy Brookshire," the man said,
"She's inside. Wait and I'll get her for you," said Tol and disappeared into the kitchen side of the cabin.
A woman emerged, "How can I help you? She asked.
"I come for a friend," he said. "I was to show you this. He pulled the laurel cross from his pocket."
"Who might that friend be?" she asked.
"Mr. Holmes. I was told you would have some shuck dolls for me and I was to give you this." He fumbled in his pocket and pulled out a $20.00 gold piece.
"Say on," she said. "But you keep the gold and get it back to Mr. Holmes." reckon I owe him more than a few dolls."
"Yes Ma'am, I have some questions, but first the dolls," he said.
She went back in the house and told Tol to go watch him. Tol did as he was told. She went to the hearth, took out the box and removed four shuck dolls with dresses. The dresses were made from scraps of the dresses she had found on the table and bed so long ago. Each of dolls dressed in an apron and dress and bonnet made from material long since gone to quilts and flour sack material. These dresses represented the finest things she had ever owned. One of each of the pairs of dresses was folded and kept in the cedar chest Tol had made for them. They would remain there until she died and was buried in the one made for her. The others would go to the respective daughters who would give them to their daughters. Worn only for special occasions and only for a few years in the next several generations, they would become quilts with stories that would go to other generations. On this day only one of her dresses had become a quilt but she knew what would happen to each of the dresses just as she knew how her grandmother had been and how her great grandchildren would be. She had made the new dresses for the shuck dolls carefully stitched in a manner that would defy both the eye and the finest machine man could build a hundred years later. Only a few years ago, the dresses had come to her. Although a few years can be a lifetime in the mountains, a few years or a thousand is nothing to the mountains. She wrapped the dolls back in the old flour sack and took them out to the man.
"Tol, go up to the spring and get us some cold water," she said. "Stranger, come sit in the shade of the dog run and say your say."
He sat down beside her on the hewn bench in the dog run. "Mrs. Brookshire, I'm looking for a group of folks who were strangers up here. They would have come in several years ago . . . black folks. Could you tell me where I might find them?"
"Plenty of black folks in the mountains, Mister. What did you say they called you?"
"I didn't say and I apologize for not being able to say, Mrs. Brookshire, but I got my reasons for not saying. You must understand. It is imperative that I find these people."
"Do I know you?" she asked.
"I have never spoken to you before in my life," he said.
"That's not what I asked," and she repeated her question.
"Ms. Brookshire, do you know anything about how I might find these folks?" he said.
Tol had come back from the spring with the cold water. He could have drawn it from the well but all his life he had known that the request for water in the presence of a stranger was a means to suggest that he excuse himself. He had gotten back in time to hear the last exchange. He sat the bucket down on the bench.
"Tol, you want to talk to this man about his lost black folk?" Nancy asked.
"Reckon not," Tol said, and went into the kitchen to get three wooden cups.
"Guess that is your answer, stranger," the woman said. "Lessen you got somethin' else a'troubling you."
"No Ma'am, I don't, but I would like that drink of water."
"You sit. Tol be out in a minute. You sure I don't know you?"
"I believe you might have seen me before," the man said.
"Reckon so," she offered. "Twice that I know of. First time when you laid down on my hearthstone in there and near died. Second you was a-standing over there and bowing down to that mountain up there with them other two."
"Yes Ma'am, that was me."
"Reckon you best be telling if'n you wants to be a-knowing."
"Not much to tell, Ma'am. I'm from West Virginia served in the Army. Met the General when he stopped over at Beaufort on his way to Washington for General Butler. The war was new then, and he wanted to see some action. So we went for a ride up toward Charleston. The three of us got caught. He was hurt and me and my friend took care of him. You know the rest."
"Reckon that's true, but it ain't all there is to it. But I reckon that's about all you going to tell. Ain't that so?"
"It's more than I intended to tell but less than I will tell to find those folks."
Tol had listened in silence. He turned and looked at the man. "Folks come up here for a lot of reasons. Most come to find something or to hide from something. I reckon that's why God made this place called the Blue Ridge. Folks need a place like that. I know these folks you seek, but I am under a vow to myself and I will not take you to them. I believe I can bring the one who they
follow to you by mornin'. Will that suit you?" Tol asked.
"Yes sir. That and your word that you hold no man prisoner in these mountains or that no man is held here again his will to your knowledge . . . if you are Tol Brookshire."
Tol was struck. All he could muster was. "What you say?"
The stranger repeated his words.
"I will give oath that I hold no man prisoner and know of no man held prisoner in the mountains." Tol said. Although he did not show it, it was a shock that anyone could think of him in that manner.
"Will you make your mark on that oath?" the stranger asked.
"I will sign my name before witnesses," Tol replied. "I will meet you at West's Store in the morning at first light with the man you seek." Tol disappeared around the corner. He went to the barn and got a mule and started out over the mountain. He headed straight toward The Happy Kingdom, but not without doubling back time and again to see if he was followed.
Long before he arrived at his destination, he knew he had been seen. As he turned up
the creek that would take him to the Happy Kingdom, a young man stepped out from the
laurel. "What be your business, stranger?" said the young man.
"I have come to find the King," said Tol.
"'Spect you won't find nothing up this creek that you want, stranger. Turn back
or pass. The choice is yours."
Tol could see no weapon and doubted if the young man had one, but he noticed how he
had chosen his position. He could escape long before Tol could reach him. And if Tol knew
the man he had met on the road a number or years ago, he would guess that two of three
rifles now held him in dead sight with a dozen more on the way.
"Might I let my horse drink?" Tol said.
"Drink and pass on, but not the way you head," said the young man.
Tol dismounted and spoke, "Tell the King that his brother is here and that he
needs to see him." Tol reached up and broke off the laurel and fashioned a small
cross and tossed it up to the man.
The man whistled high and low both long and loud.
In a few minutes another young man appeared, and he came forward and looked at Tol.
"You are Brother Aaron. Old, but still Brother Aaron," he said finally and held out a hand.
"I remember you."
"I am Caleb King," said the young man. "King Joshua is
a-coming."
The young man whistled and several people appeared. The young man who had hailed Tol
had disappeared and some jerky meat and whiskey were offered. But Tol Brookshire went not
another step into the kingdom.
Within the hour King Joshua arrived and Tol spoke of his need. The King called an
older man named Samuel to his side and said that both the King and Prince must leave the
kingdom. Tol was surprised by the reaction of the folk around him. It was apparent that
these folk wanted no truck with the white world beyond the Kingdom and they certainly did
not wish for the king and his son to leave.
Finally it was settled when Caleb said that the sight told him that they must go or
the trouble would only grow worse. Tol was amazed but the issue was no longer questioned.
Obviously this was much more than a king on a throne for each in turn was allowed to speak
their peace, although it was obvious that many more were absent than were present. Even
though the sun was long gone, the king and his son and Tol turned for home. They would
make daybreak but just barely.
The officer took their depositions. Although the king had said he recognized no
authority of any government but his own, it was apparent that there were no prisoners in
these mountains. All the documents were signed and witnessed, and the officer headed for
Greenville.
"Reckon it would be safer for a man with Yankee boots and a pretty horse not to
leave the mountains the way he came," Mr. West offered.
The officer thought about that a moment and turned to back the long route feeling
certain it was sound advice.
The King and his son and Tol were long gone, headed back up the mountain toward the
Kingdom. As they rode the mules, the King thanked Tol and explained how the Kingdom had
grown. Finally he asked what was on his mind. "What you think? Others, will they be
coming?"
"Hope not," said Tol, "but I expect I will head on over the mountain
toward Tennessee for awhile just in case they do."
"We be ready if they come to the Kingdom," the King offered.
Tol knew that this was so. Already the mountain folk, black and white, knew not to
venture beyond where the guards of the gate stood.
"Reckon you folk done better'n I 'spected ," Tol offered.
"Well," said the King, "Pap told us long time ago, it's all in the
Bible. We sends out our representatives to other nations and we keeps a good of the King's
guard on the road in. All of it in the Book. Last time I saw you you said you knew the
Book. We don't trade with no man more'n once or twice in a season. Word come back you help
us. Tell the folk you give us the land."
Where you headed in Tennessee?" said Caleb.
"Little place where Ma and me lost some people a long time ago. Ma and her
family always worried that wasn't nobody to say nothing from the Book over 'em. Reckon I
thought on it some myself. Reckon I'm the reason they died."
"Say on," said Caleb.
"Cousins, like brothers to me. I went off in the army when the war started.
They saw me go and felt like they had to do something themselves. Both of 'em just married
when they went off to Tennessee and got kilt."
"What part of Tennessee they get kilt in?" Caleb asked.
It was at that moment that Tol sat up straight. "Riders coming in hard, hit the
laurel."
"Head for the gate to the Kingdom," the king said.
The three broke in different directions heading straight into the undergrowth and up
the rocky slopes through the toughest land they could find. Men on horse would not easily
follow here.
The High Sheriff pulled in his horse with the Marshal beside him. He looked at the
other Marshal and told him to go back to the others and bring them in slow and easy. He
did as he was told.
"They broke apart here," the High Sheriff said. "Heard us coming. See
the sign?" He pointed to three pathways into the laurel.
"Well, if that lying store owner was telling part of the truth at least two of
people broke for freedom," said the Marshal.
The High Sheriff had never liked this idea and he liked it less after they had found
out that some strange black men had been seen at the store at the base of the mountain. He
downright hated it when the store owner told them that they was giving depositions with
Tol Brookshire and had headed back toward the mountains.
Course that dang fool of a Marshal had figured all that was about some sort of slave trader and with the posse from Greenville caught up, he had headed straight into the highlands. Now it was late afternoon and they would have to follow the trails that would split them up and darkness was no time to be tracking around with a small army in the highlands. They did not know it, but
they would never see another sunset when they viewed the world the same way they did
this one.
The posse caught up and the sheriff, took his two regular deputies and told them to
track out the trail. He split his men in three groups and they began down the respective
trails. The sheriff did not make it to the top of the first rise before a shot rang out
and two more quickly in the distance. When the excitement died down, he found that he now
had nine men and eight horses. He knew it was only the beginning of a very long walk.
Finally, just before sundown, the tracks came back together at a creek. The Sheriff and
the Marshal were the only two men riding when they met. The others were twenty-six
footsore men dragging all manner of tack and weapons following at intervals from half a
mile to three miles. The sun was closing in on darkness when they reached a place none of
them would ever know they had been. They had come to the Gates of the Kingdom. The young
man called Peter knew they would never pass. This day he stood with his King, the King's
son, and the white stranger. This day would be his most glorious.
The Deputy and the Marshals tied their horses together and went down to the creek to
refresh themselves. They were worn and frightened for they knew that any one of the shots
that had dropped a horse could have killed a man, and they knew that they were known as
the leaders. For the first time they realized there was a reason they had been allowed to
come to this place.
A single shot rang out. They looked in the direction of the shot and saw not one,
not two, but all three of their mounts dead on the ground. They heard the voice rich and
loud with the deep tones of Gullah. "Kinnute tu ka tu..." came the words.
David Goliath froze. No man had ever spoken those words to him. Only his mother knew
them. They meant he had been taught "small man made large or weak man made
strong." They were the source of the name he had chosen.
Nothing but the sound of the creek followed. Finally, far up the hill a huge black
man came into view. "You is in my kingdom now, David Goliath. If that be your name
and the white man you is seeking is my Brother Aaron, best you leave him be. From what I
know of you, you ain't none of my people. You do well to take your white folks and go back
the way you came. Nothing but free men here. The word you seek on paper is in your house.
Go to it and come this way no more or my people will smite you with a mighty sword."
The High Sheriff said nothing to David Goliath. He went to the horse, took his tack,
and began the long journey home. David Goliath and the other Marshal soon joined him for
the long journey.
Tol sat with the king high on the mountain and waited. He did not understand what for. Soon after telling the king what to say, Caleb had left them. In the long shadows before darkness, he returned to the high mountain. He held out his hand to Tol and dropped the two small pokes into his hand. Tears streaked Tol's cheeks for one of the few times in his long life, as the King and sons told of the journey Pap had sent them on so long ago. When they had finished, he was not
invited into the Kingdom that night. He would not have gone had he been invited. Tol had much to consider before he reached Nancy Brookshire with the reassurance of a Christian burial that had taken place so long ago. It was indeed lonely on the mountain.
