Swift Horse

And in his thoughts of love doth share a part.

—William Shakespeare

Swift Horse left Edward James sitting with his sister to go and talk with Marsha. But first he decided to drop in on Abraham, to make sure that his new friend wasn’t left out of things. Swift Horse wanted him to feel like he was home—truly home.

He drew people to him, because he was such a likable man. It was hard for Swift Horse to envision this proud black man as a slave, being treated so poorly by his “owner,” who had beaten Abraham almost to death with the nasty, deadly whip.

Swift Horse saw the lamplight in Abraham’s cabin and knew that he was still awake. More than likely Abraham was sitting beside the fire with the fawn on his lap, as he did most evenings.

Swift Horse stepped up to the door and knocked, and Abraham’s booming voice told him to come in.

Swift Horse went inside and found Abraham bent over a book, with a kerosene lamp on a table drawn close enough for him to read by. It was obvious that before Swift Horse entered, the man had been absorbed in the “talking leaves,” which was what one of the Creek children had nicknamed books.

“Comes on in,” Abraham said, placing a ribbon in the book to mark the last page that he had been reading. He set the book on the table and rose to greet Swift Horse, giving him a big hug.

“I’se got coffee brewin’ over the fire,” Abraham said, stepping away from Swift Horse. “Do you have time to sit and share coffee with me?”

“I always have time for you,” Swift Horse said.

Abraham poured coffee into two tin cups and handed one to Swift Horse, then sat in a chair opposite him, a steaming cup of coffee in his hand.

“Do you see this book?” Abraham said, setting his cup aside and lifting the book from the table. The book seemed dwarfed in his massive hand as he held it out for Swift Horse to see.

“Yes, and are you enjoying it?” Swift Horse asked as Abraham opened the book, pride shining in his eyes.

“Very much,” Abraham said, nodding. “Marsha brought it to me when she found out that I could read. My mama sneaked books into our cabin at night when I was a child. She had been taught by a white friend who sneaked books to my mama and read to her by candlelight into the wee hours of the night. My mama taught me and I taught my own chillen from the very same book my mama taught me from.”

Tears came to Abraham’s dark eyes. “One evenin’, as I was teachin’ my chillen from that book,” he said, his voice breaking, “my mastah caught me.” He took the book and tore pages from it one at a time as he laughed at my despair. Then he held a candle to each page and let the flaming pages fall to the floor of my cabin. I had to stamp out that fire with my bare feet. I hated that man that night more than I can tells you.”

He clutched the book to his heart and lowered his eyes. “It was a short while later that he killed my family and spared my life because I was such a big, healthy man, w

ho could do the work of three men at his plantation.”

“I am so sorry for all that you have had to endure,” Swift Horse said, setting down his empty coffee cup.

“Your people have endured much, too,” Abraham said, laying the book aside and gazing over at Swift Horse. “I heard tales of it when I lived in Florida land. The Seminole did not get treated as bad as I heard tell Indians up north and out west were being treated. ‘Genocide’ I believe is the word I heard used as a description of how it was when so many people of your skin color was killed.”

“Yes, it is not always a kind world,” Swift Horse said, although he did remember that not all white men took pleasure in mistreating the black community or those with red skin. He could not have a closer friend than Edward James.

Edward James was a better friend to Swift Horse now than even One Eye, who sometimes did seem to have changed from that young brave Swift Horse had known as a child.

Whenever Swift Horse thought about that change, Marsha’s accusations against One Eye always came to mind.

Swift Horse wanted to believe in One Eye and not think that he could be anything akin to the renegade who killed Marsha’s parents, but lately something about One Eye did make Swift Horse begin to wonder. Certainly Swift Horse was paying more heed now to what One Eye said and did.

“I have received much pleasure in knowin’ Edward James and Marsha, and their skin is white,” Abraham said, seeming to have read Swift Horse’s mind. “And I knew some kind whites back in Florida land, too. My mastah’s wife had the same sweet sort of smile and voice that I have found in Marsha.”

Abraham suddenly smiled. “She sneaked freshly baked cookies to my chillen time and time again,” he said, lost for a moment in sweet memories. “I misses her as I am sure she misses and worries ’bout me. After her husband killed my family, she sneaked out to my cabin and embraced me and told me she was so sorry.”

They were interrupted when the fawn limped in from a back room, went to Abraham, and gazed up at him. “You want me to hold and rock you, don’tcha?” Abraham said, lifting the tiny thing into his arms. He smiled over at Swift Horse. “He thinks he’s a real person. He likes being rocked.” He laughed softly. “I even sing to him sometimes like I sang to my chillen when I rocked them to sleep at night.”

“And so the fawn’s leg is better, I see,” Swift Horse said as he leaned over and stroked the animal’s sleek fur. “He limps, but at least now he can get around on his own.”

“I took many an injured animal into my cabin at night when the mastah couldn’t see. I did what I could for them, then returned them to the wild and prayed they’d be all right and not taken advantage of by predators,” Abraham said.

Abraham suddenly yawned. He wiped at his eyes with his long fingers. “I’m mighty tired and I haven’t been in any fields to cause it,” he said, then smiled softly over at Swift Horse. “I must admit, the long journey with such hurt to my back has taken much outta me. I hope I’ll get my full strength back so that I can do my part ’round here. I look forward to my first hunt with your warriors.”

“There is plenty of time for that,” Swift Horse said, smiling at Abraham as he rose from the chair. He patted him on the shoulder. “I will go now. You and the fawn can go to bed. Tomorrow is another day. Perhaps you will be stronger then.”