Billy Boy by Jean Mary Flahive Read Free Book Online Page B

friends slowly entered the tent, rolled out their blankets, and settled onto the ground.
    â€œYou okay, Billy Boy?” Harry tapped him on the shoulder. Billy rolled onto his back but said nothing.
    â€œI know you ain’t asleep.”
    â€œWonderin’ is all.”
    â€œâ€™Bout what?”
    â€œWonderin’ mostly—just who the enemy is.” He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand.
    â€œAw, them fellas are a bunch of bullies for sure, but they’ll be all right after a time. It’s just the liquor talking.”
    â€œWish I was like you, Harry.”
    â€œBilly Boy, I like you just the way you are.” Harry leaned close and whispered, “Besides, want to know a secret?”
    â€œReckon.”
    â€œAlways wished I was as tall as you.”
    â€œYou mean that, Harry?”
    â€œYou betcha. If I was taller … Well, thing is, I had to learn to fight my way through things, what with me being so short.” Harry paused and took a deep breath. “All the blustering I do? It’s just so folks will take notice.”
    Billy stared in astonishment.
    â€œAnyway, don’t you worry none. We’re in this army together. I’m right by your side, just like I told you. Go on now and get some sleep.”
    Harry slipped across the tent floor and disappeared beneath his blanket. Propped on his elbows, for several moments Billy stared at his long legs stretched out across the blanket. Wiggled his socked toes. Maybe things were going to be all right after all. Settling back down, he waited for sleep, for dawn, and for the troop train that would carry him far from home.

Chapter 5
    E lijah was in a run for his life, and only his callused bare feet could save him. He ran hard over the rocky field with only the dim light of a quarter moon as his guide. Ol’ Joe said five miles west was the railroad, the steel rails north his path to freedom. Fear swelled in Elijah’s throat. At the edge of the field he ran into the forest, growing more anxious with every step that took him deeper into the darkness and his own uncertainty. His foot caught on a protruding root and he stumbled, collapsing on his hands and knees. He took long, deep breaths, gulping down air.
    Dawn was approaching. He knew he had little time to rest—only a fleeting moment to summon his will. He listened for his pursuers. The muffled hooting of a great horned owl was the only sound in the stillness of the night.
    With his short frame and wide, strapping shoulders, Elijah was growing up just like his pappy; that’s what the other slaves said. And, at the age of just sixteen, he was the strongest slave in the county. That’s why he was sold to Mastuh Fowler for fifteen hundred dollars.
    Elijah shook his head. That’s when things changed. The new mastuh owned a large tobacco plantation near Danville, Virginia, far away from his pappy on the Ramsey farm. Tears welled in Elijah’s eyes as he remembered hugging Pappy good-bye. Mastuh Fowler had yanked out his whip, cracked it in the air, and struck him hard across his back. “You’re my property now, nigger,” he had shouted. Wrenched from his pappy, Elijah had crawled into the back of the wagon, filled with loathing forhis new mastuh. But Pappy ran up to him, and before Mastuh Fowler could push him away, he had whispered in his ear. “If he keep hurtin’ you, my boy, then you run. Run like the wind.” Three months later, Ol’ Joe, he told Elijah the same thing.
    Elijah startled.
    He waited. Listened to the darkness. There it was again! The distant, hoarse-ringing bay of bloodhounds.
    He prayed his pappy’s strength still ran through his veins. He needed it now to stay alive.
    He shot a glance in either direction and then ran to higher ground, low branches whipping his cheeks until they bled. A small open space at the top of the hill offered a view of the surrounding forest. Elijah studied the nearby