Hench, or Daisy?”
“No,” Elizabeth said. “Curiosity and Galileo and Joshua did not run away from their owners. Each of them was bought out of slavery, and Daisy was born in freedom. They have manumission papers, you see, a legal document that declares the person in question is free.”
The small oval face went very still for a moment. “Do I have manumission papers too?”
She said this calmly, but Elizabeth saw the spark of real concern and fear in her daughter’s eyes. She sat down on the step and pulled Lily down next to her.
“You have no need of manumission papers. No one would question your freedom, Lily. You have nothing to fear from bounty hunters.”
“Or from kidnappers,” Lily prompted.
“Or from kidnappers,” Elizabeth echoed obediently, wishing again that the children weren’t always so eager to hear stories of what had happened to them when they were just a few months old.
“Everybody knows I’m free because I’m white,” Lily reasoned out loud. And then: “Well, then, why can’t we write a paper like that for Selah Voyager?”
Elizabeth pulled up in surprise. “That would be forgery, as if we decided to make our own paper money and claim it came from the government treasury. We don’t have the authority to write manumission papers for Selah, or anyone. The law would see that as theft.”
“But if one person can’t belong to another person, how can that be thievery? You can’t steal something nobody owns.”
It happened with increasing frequency that Elizabeth was taken aback and delighted by the clarity of eight-year-old logic. Now it took her a moment to collect a reasonable response, but Lily waited patiently.
“The problem is that somebody claims to own Selah Voyager,” she said finally. “And the law supports that claim.”
“Grandfather says that laws are only as good as the menwho write them,” said Lily. And then she leapt off the porch in a manner much more suited to her age, and let out a high hoot of laughter.
“Oh, look, Uncle got some turkeys!”
Runs-from-Bears stood at the edge of the woods with a pair of birds slung over one shoulder and a brace of rabbits over the other. With the flick of a wrist he tossed the rabbits to Hector and Blue, who grabbed up their reward and galloped away to eat under the fir tree that was their favorite spot. The dogs passed Lily as she ran toward Runs-from-Bears, her bare heels flashing white as they kicked up her petticoat to show the muddy hem of her shift.
She launched herself fearlessly, grabbing onto his free forearm. He swung her up and for one breathless moment Lily seemed to hang like a hummingbird in midair; then he caught her neatly and she came to rest on his raised forearm. Elizabeth had seen this trick too many times to count, but it still struck her as incongruous: her tiny daughter perched so nonchalantly on the arm of a Kahnyen’kehàka warrior. A stranger would have first seen his size, the weapons he carried, the face mangled by battle and pox scars and decorated with elaborate bear-claw tattoos; Elizabeth saw a man who had taught her to snare and skin a rabbit, how to walk quietly in the endless forests, how to greet an elder in Mohawk without giving offense, and too many other things to count. Runs-from-Bears had helped her through some of the most difficult times of her life; when she looked at him she saw a friend, and so did her daughter.
Lily was talking so fast and so earnestly that by the time Elizabeth caught up, Runs-from-Bears had heard all the news of the day.
“Will you come and meet Selah Voyager, Uncle?”
“I will,” said Runs-from-Bears. “When she is well again.”
Elizabeth said, “Run ahead now and bring your sister this soup, she is waiting for you.”
Lily swung down as she would have done from the branch of a tree, landing lightly. When she had accepted the covered bowl, Runs-from-Bears reached into his hunting shirt and took out a letter.
“Take this to Walks-Ahead
“No,” Elizabeth said. “Curiosity and Galileo and Joshua did not run away from their owners. Each of them was bought out of slavery, and Daisy was born in freedom. They have manumission papers, you see, a legal document that declares the person in question is free.”
The small oval face went very still for a moment. “Do I have manumission papers too?”
She said this calmly, but Elizabeth saw the spark of real concern and fear in her daughter’s eyes. She sat down on the step and pulled Lily down next to her.
“You have no need of manumission papers. No one would question your freedom, Lily. You have nothing to fear from bounty hunters.”
“Or from kidnappers,” Lily prompted.
“Or from kidnappers,” Elizabeth echoed obediently, wishing again that the children weren’t always so eager to hear stories of what had happened to them when they were just a few months old.
“Everybody knows I’m free because I’m white,” Lily reasoned out loud. And then: “Well, then, why can’t we write a paper like that for Selah Voyager?”
Elizabeth pulled up in surprise. “That would be forgery, as if we decided to make our own paper money and claim it came from the government treasury. We don’t have the authority to write manumission papers for Selah, or anyone. The law would see that as theft.”
“But if one person can’t belong to another person, how can that be thievery? You can’t steal something nobody owns.”
It happened with increasing frequency that Elizabeth was taken aback and delighted by the clarity of eight-year-old logic. Now it took her a moment to collect a reasonable response, but Lily waited patiently.
“The problem is that somebody claims to own Selah Voyager,” she said finally. “And the law supports that claim.”
“Grandfather says that laws are only as good as the menwho write them,” said Lily. And then she leapt off the porch in a manner much more suited to her age, and let out a high hoot of laughter.
“Oh, look, Uncle got some turkeys!”
Runs-from-Bears stood at the edge of the woods with a pair of birds slung over one shoulder and a brace of rabbits over the other. With the flick of a wrist he tossed the rabbits to Hector and Blue, who grabbed up their reward and galloped away to eat under the fir tree that was their favorite spot. The dogs passed Lily as she ran toward Runs-from-Bears, her bare heels flashing white as they kicked up her petticoat to show the muddy hem of her shift.
She launched herself fearlessly, grabbing onto his free forearm. He swung her up and for one breathless moment Lily seemed to hang like a hummingbird in midair; then he caught her neatly and she came to rest on his raised forearm. Elizabeth had seen this trick too many times to count, but it still struck her as incongruous: her tiny daughter perched so nonchalantly on the arm of a Kahnyen’kehàka warrior. A stranger would have first seen his size, the weapons he carried, the face mangled by battle and pox scars and decorated with elaborate bear-claw tattoos; Elizabeth saw a man who had taught her to snare and skin a rabbit, how to walk quietly in the endless forests, how to greet an elder in Mohawk without giving offense, and too many other things to count. Runs-from-Bears had helped her through some of the most difficult times of her life; when she looked at him she saw a friend, and so did her daughter.
Lily was talking so fast and so earnestly that by the time Elizabeth caught up, Runs-from-Bears had heard all the news of the day.
“Will you come and meet Selah Voyager, Uncle?”
“I will,” said Runs-from-Bears. “When she is well again.”
Elizabeth said, “Run ahead now and bring your sister this soup, she is waiting for you.”
Lily swung down as she would have done from the branch of a tree, landing lightly. When she had accepted the covered bowl, Runs-from-Bears reached into his hunting shirt and took out a letter.
“Take this to Walks-Ahead
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