Growing list of those born or died on May 5 in any year

Millicent Dolly May Small CD (6 October 1947 – 5 May 2020) was a Jamaican singer who is best known for her international hit "My Boy Lollipop" (1964). It was the first major hit for

#blackwomen #blackhistory #blackmastodon

Growing list of those born or died on May 4 in any year

Sigmund Esco "Jackie" Jackson (born May 4, 1951) is an American singer and songwriter. He is a founding member and the sole constant member of the Jackson 5. He is the second child of the

#blackwomen #blackhistory #blackmastodon

Growing list of those born or died on May 3 in any year

James Joseph Brown (May 3, 1933 – December 25, 2006) was an American singer, songwriter, dancer, musician, and record producer.

#blackwomen #blackhistory #blackmastodon

Your art history post for today: by African-American artist Charles Ethan Porter (1847–1923), Floral Still Life, ca. 1880-1890, oil on canvas, 16 1/8 × 20 3/8 × 13/16 inches (41 × 51.8 × 2 cm), Detroit Institute of Arts. #ArtHistory #blackart #blackartists #blackartist #BlackHistory

Information on the artist from the National Gallery of Art: ‘In 1881 Porter decided to travel abroad to continue his development as an artist…

Less than two years into his time in France, Porter’s money ran out. He wrote to Mark Twain, asking him for help. His letters to the writer are the only known first-person accounts from Porter. On April 4, 1883, he wrote:

Now I am aware that there are a goodly number of my Hartford friends and others who are anxious to see how the colored artist will make out, but this is not the motive which impresses me. There is something of more importance. The colored people—my people—as a race I am interested in, and my success will only add to others who have already shown wherein they are capable the same as other men.

Conscious of his place in an art world dominated by white men, Porter was eager to show what he, and other Black artists, could do.’

My morning podcast listen: “Anna Murray Douglass, A Love Story with Antar Tichavakunda” on UnderTold by CM

On PocketCasts:
https://pca.st/episode/c6c8183c-b313-44d1-a7f4-cc2ad268b370

On YouTube:
https://youtu.be/lrTJ57tnYt4

Main [PODCAST] website:
https://www.undertoldbycm.com/

#history #BlackHistory #HealOurCulture

Growing list of those born or died on May 2 in any year

A white ex-[pig] chief agreed to plead guilty to misconduct in office in the [execution] of an unarmed [Black Man Walter Bailey in 2011], a far lesser offense than the murder charge that

#blackwomen #blackhistory #blackmastodon

Passing To Freedom, Chapter 24: Unwanted Christmas Gifts

Passing to Freedom: Willow’s Story

a historical novel of escape, by D. Antonia Jones, aka Nia or Ni, fka Shira Destinie Jones

Chapter 24

“What do you think?”

We exchanged a startled look, having each whispered that question at the same time. Then we both let out a quiet giggle, and rose up together.

We had waited until well past the time that our feebler human ears could make out the departing footsteps of that man, crunching through the snow. Old Mary had finally seemed to relax, breathing over me again in her odd way, as I had grown so used to her doing back on the way up to Dr. H.’s house, before we had met Tilly. I feared more for the safety of this child than for that of either Anna or myself. I felt the weight of responsibility for her fate rest heavy upon my shoulders. Whether we were now up North or not, in Pennsylvania or not, I knew that time, and the law, were against us.

I felt my stomach cramp, and I began to taste bile, as I recalled the glee with which the Senator had recounted his success in Congress, getting them to pass a detestable law which even we who were held in bondage were told about, and in no uncertain terms: any friends we might have had up North were now hogtied. This law bound them to act, will they or nil they, in the service of any and all slave catchers, even in those free states to which we might manage to flee our own harsh condition of servitude, as the law liked to put it. Even a white gentleman, like Dr. H., could be forced to aid in our capture. Thus, I reminded myself to rest assured that even if this white man, even in Pennsylvania, had a mind to help us, Tilly and I must be careful to keep well out of his sight. We could only bring harm to him, and to the rest of his family.

After agreeing that the man was gone, I opened a tiny gap on one side of our shelter, and peeked out, while Tilly did the same on the opposite side. She nodded to me as solemnly as an adult:

“All looks to be clear, Miss Willow.”

I smiled, and nodded. We proceeded to follow Anna’s instructions for leaving our little shelter, right down to the letter:

“The nearest town around here,” she had told me, “is Shrewsbury.”

I, of course, had never heard of it, so I had nodded to show her that I was paying attention, and kept my questions to myself, for that moment.

“It is the closest border town to the part of Maryland we came up from, so that is likely to be the first place they look. Try your hardest to avoid it.”

How, I wondered, would we do that. She had answered my second unspoken question in tolerable detail, not too long to remember, but sparing no important points. My question about the shrew would have to wait a while.

We carefully enlarged the exit in our shelter, led Old Mary out to stretch her legs, and then stood back a ways to admire Anna’s handiwork.

“We really did look like part of the trees,” young Tilly had observed in a whisper, and I nodded my agreement, giving her shoulder a pat as I headed back in through the new doorway.

It was true. Our little shelter really did look like a stand of fallen trees, the way she had littered it about with dead branches and bark. We worked to bury all signs of our presence and then looked back, almost nostalgic, for a moment before starting on our way. We didn’t have time to risk standing around, even to thank these young trees, for more than a minute or two. Time was now of the essence. We tried our best to leave it all appearing just as we imagined it must have looked to the man earlier in the day, so as not to betray our having been there to friend or foe.

We led Old Mary on foot right through the deep tracks of the man who had spied our shelter, hoping to disguise our own tracks, at least a little bit. I was amazed at the light snow that continued to fall, after an entire week. We had packed down all the snow we could carry with us, and bundled up kindling and dry branches in our saddlebags, taking the place of all the food we had eaten. For now, it was to be a hungry day, at least for Tilly and myself. I hoped that Old Mary would know how to break through this snow to find grass for herself to eat. Anna had pointedly suggested that I only tell Tilly that we were headed to the next state north. That way, if we were separated or caught, the child could truthfully say that she knew nothing of our plans. I hated to hide anything from Tilly, but I trusted Anna’s wider knowledge of the situation.

We walked as lightly as we could, Tilly and I taking turns, one walking backward to brush out our tracks, as Anna had instructed, while the other crept ahead, leading Old Mary. This helped us all get used to walking again after so much time spent cramped together mostly lying down. Anna had pointed in the direction that we were to go when leaving our little copse of trees, so that I would not have to waste time finding North and then orienting myself east. We should run into a back country road about a mile past a boundary marker. That much I was allowed to tell Tilly, which I had done before we left, so that she could help me mark the distance and prevent us from getting lost at this crucial point in our journey. We were so close to the border with the state of Maryland that almost any error in navigation would put us back south of the Mason-Dixon line, and in even greater danger than we were already. In Pennsylvania, there seemed to be procedures that our pursuers would have to follow before they could have us taken out of this Commonwealth. So it was of the utmost importance that we not be spotted by anyone at all until we had, at the very least, reached the relative safety of a larger town or city, where there would be constables and judges to provide us with at least some slight protection, should we be found by the men whom the law judged to be our owners.

“Is this the road?”

Little Tilly seemed to have read my mind. Anna had said there was only one real road in the area that ran east and west. It seemed big enough. I looked at young Tilly, through the gathering gloom, raising my hands in a question, and she responded with a lopsided grin. I guess that’s a Yes. Tilly then pointed to Old Mary’s head, making motions that imitated pulling off her riding harness and the bit, which Anna had explained to me did not stop a horse from eating, but did make it unpleasant. Young Tilly evidently wished to make it easier for Old Mary to graze while we stopped to check the road. I nodded yes, glad that one of us had thought of that little kindness.

We stayed hidden as best we could at the side of the road for a moment or two, Old Mary chomping away while Tilly and I got as good a look in both directions as we could, looking for travelers, and also checking for homes or taverns close enough to see us coming onto the road from the woods. A run in like the one that we had already had could end up fatal for all three of us. Anna must surely still be in this state, and those who wanted us back would just as surely find that out from me, will I or nil I, if caught here.

It seemed as safe as it was ever going to be. We agreed that east was in the direction that we both pointed to, first hiding our hands in our coats before revealing them, as if it were a game in which we would both lose should our fingers point in different directions, but both of us would win if, and only if, we turned out to be pointing in the same direction. We won our game. I hated to interrupt Old Mary’s meal, but it was time to go.

Tilly and I took either side of Old Mary, and climbed up onto the road with as much stealth as we could muster. We walked with our heads down and entirely covered, trying to fit the look of two locals hurrying home with dry wood after visiting a sick friend. We knew that our story would not keep, but it was all we could think of as we had packed our saddlebags in that cramped little shelter. We’d need to devise a better story after we managed to get some food into our bellies, even if no more than a few roasted chestnuts. Anna had told me that under the direst of circumstances, even crickets, after the wings and legs were torn off, could serve as emergency food, but I dearly hoped not to have to try such a desperate meal. Besides, where would we find any crickets at this time of year? With a bit of luck we would go unseen, no one wanting to be out after dark in this weather, and in a couple of hours we could ride Old Mary at least a little faster than we could go on foot.

We passed one tavern, drinkers coming and going, and none seemed to look our way. I was surprised to catch sight of what looked like Christmas decorations. We’d been in hiding for so long that I had lost track of the season. Personally, I had never had good associations with the holidays, for the Senator always came back to Virginia for the long break. I hoped Tilly might have some good memories of at least this time of year, when most hands would have had a bit of time for themselves, given the cold weather. This was a more dangerous time, however, for any who must pass under the demanding eyes of the mistress or master of the Great house.

We had to walk quickly and in silence, so this was not the time to ask after young Tilly’s thoughts, but I hoped to learn more about her, before all of this was over. In the meantime, I would have to think of some sort of way to make our flight more of an adventure, as Anna had done, for our little Tilly. And a gift. I must find some way to procure a Christmas present for my young friend, even if I had to weave some sort of toy for her out of twine and twigs, and add my embroidery threads to give it some softness and color. She was still a child, after all, and no child should go without love, and if possible gifts, too, during this season. I vowed to do my best to give her that as soon as I could.

We mounted Old Mary about an hour past that tavern, and she seemed content enough to pick up a slow trot. As the night wore on, she slowed of her own accord down to a walk. We dared not stop to rest. Time was of the essence on this road even more than it had been as we made our way through the woods. It was here that we were more liable to be stopped and questioned, as any passing white person had the right to do, and we had no good answers to give them. We did still have our precious packet of papers, and a bit of money. Tilly had cleverly bundled them up on her person inside the blanket she had used to wear as a coat when we left that unwholesome woman’s tavern. Unfortunately, those papers currently did us little good, as none of us knew how to read all of them. Anna and even young Tilly could sound out a few words, and I could recognize a few more words that we knew, but none of us was yet able to get the sense of the entirety of any of the several documents which we carried upon us. Those documents now lay hidden in one of Old Mary’s saddlebags. Anna had reasoned that I’d have the best chance of being able to use them, passing for White and claiming Tilly as my servant, since I indeed had some paper with Tilly’s name upon it. The trouble was, I could not tell what that paper actually said. Nevertheless, because so many white workers were also unable to read, it should still be possible to use those documents as a gambler used his cards, even when lacking an Ace, to bluff our way out of difficulty, for myself and Tilly, if I learned to play my hand well enough.

As I thought on this need to continue learning my letters, Old Mary pricked up her ears. Little Tilly was lolling in the saddle, her head resting against my chest and her hands wrapped around the pommel, while I held the reins. Although the snow had stopped falling, I saw nothing, and heard nothing. I urged Old Mary into a faster walk. Soon enough, I could make out a person walking toward us. It was late, so I feared that no good could come of any meeting with this person, and urged Old Mary into a trot, when the traveler, a man entirely covered by his coat, gloves, and wide brimmed hat, called out to me, saying:

“Go back, missus, go on back, please.”

Against my better judgment, but too curious, and feeling that Old Mary was too tired, to run, I let her slow back to a walk as I held Tilly more tightly, and called out to the stranger:

“What is the matter, sir?”

“Oh, miss, you don’t need to be calling me sir,” and if I didn’t know better, I’d have sworn that the man sounded like a fellow fugitive, which he confirmed by continuing that, “I’s just a freedman been living up here the las’ few years, now ‘bout to pick up and go again.”

I felt sorry for this man, who seemed to have only just heard about this dastardly law, four years old, now, that put his hard won freedom in danger. But I also recalled Anna’s warning not to trust even our fellow colored folk, and pulled Old Mary farther to the opposite side of the road, to be sure that this man could not grab hold of her reins as he drew nearer.

“I am sorry to hear that,” as I nodded. I hoped that he managed to keep his freedom, and I added, “very sorry.”

I had been about to urge Old Mary into a trot, when he called again:

“Missus, you don’t want that young’un seeing what they’s doin’ up this here road up Shrewsbury way.”

Shrewsbury, the town we were meant to avoid? But how were we to avoid it, if we had to pass right through it on our way east? Maybe this was why Anna had taken such pains to impress the importance of speed and stealth upon me. She must have wanted us to pass by this town too quickly to notice that it was so near, but why?

“I thank you kindly, but we must keep going, and this is the only way that we can go.”

He tipped his hat to us, and we each continued on our way. I wondered what he could have meant by his warning, but I had no time to think on it, for the snow had stopped falling, and Old Mary was clearly also getting too tired to continue. She had slowed down so much that Tilly and I could likely have walked faster. We would need to camp out of sight of the road for at least one or two nights before joining the main road North. Then, we would need a better plan. As I looked for a place to leave the road so that we could find a sheltered hiding spot to rest, I could just make out some sort of a hubub going on further up. As we drew closer, it seemed that a building must be on fire, such was the commotion and the noise, not to mention the flames. I urged Old Mary forward faster, not daring to believe it possible for us to find a safe spot to camp so close to all of this agitation. As we finally came close enough to see what was going on, it turned out that there were two people stretched out, arms tied to posts, and a great number of men were milling about, including what appeared to be constables. Several men appearing to be arguing energetically with each other. Then I saw her, first her back, bloody and skin hanging in ribbons, and then her face.

It was the face of my Miss Mary.

And tied next to her, was little Sal.

***

This is the third draft of Act II of this part of the novel. Thoughts are most welcome.

Nia

Passing To Freedom, Chapter 25: Smith

Chapter 25

We had both seen, it, young Tilly and I, of that much I was certain. Even though I used one hand to cover the eyes of little Tilly, I could tell that the child had seen the horror. I had urged Old Mary into a trot, hoping to pass by the whipping post unseen and unseeing, but I knew I had failed, by the way both of our hearts stopped. That had indeed been my poor Miss Mary, up there, blood dripping from her ragged back. And that was my dear little Sal, bound in like manner, standing spread eagle fashion, as if being crucified on an invisible cross, right next to her. They had apparently been whipping on Miss Mary for some time. Long enough to have left nothing but ribbons of flesh hanging from her back, torn nearly down to the bone, and visible by the light of that bonfire, even at this time of night. The constables had evidently refused to take part in the terrible spectacle, never ceasing to rain curses down upon the two men who clearly felt it necessary to exercise the master’s right of ownership over my dear friends, by publicly flogging them in punishment for their, or our, attempt to flee the cruelty of that master, and his hired men. That I only saw two of them, head overseer Smith, and that other unwholesome lackey of his who so often seemed to take such pleasure in being the hand that wielded the whip, only increased my dread, for I know full well that there were many more men, and dogs, somewhere, at Smith’s beck and call. In spite of the terrible damage already done to her murdered flesh, I heard Smith’s hideous voice ring out a word:

“Again!”

Only a second seemed to pass before the awful sound of leather striking flesh was heard even over the outraged shouts of the northern men. There followed a low moan, one that could only have come from my poor Miss Mary, and the sound of something hitting the wooden floor of the building, I had not remarked whether it was a tavern, or a home, or even a barn, but it was a large enough structure to have had a wide front porch with columns and stairs leading up to the front doors. And then, an even worse order followed that one:

“This one is done, she got no more for us. Move on over to the little one, here.”

The heart rending high pitched shriek of fear from a small girl pierced the night sky, in the voice I knew so well to be that of my tiny little Sally. Before I could stop myself, I had turned sideways in the saddle, for we were just opposite the road from that horrific scene, at this point, to see her, to my grave chagrin, and possibly to our undoing, Tilly and I, for my eyes met not those of my poor Miss Mary, but of that odious man, Smith.

In the instant that our eyes met, I knew that he had recognized me. My ears did not tarry in confirming that thought, for the horrid beast of a man, as head overseer, lost no time in calling out to his hirelings. I heard the well remembered voices of two of his most loathed fellow overseers from back down in Virginia. Although I was the Senator’s personal prized property, and therefore one of the very few non white women who was out of reach to this beast and his own bootlicks, he missed no opportunity, when the Senator was not in earshot, of making lurid suggestions, to be sure that I knew of his lecherous disposition toward me. If I had not been the closely guarded favorite of a man more powerful than Smith, I would have been at the mercy of this predatory beast, just as it seemed that my two unfortunate friends were, now. Those thoughts, and the shrill cries of my poor little Sal, moved me to a depth of disgust and fear that I was unable to contain, and I heard my words before I knew they had escaped my lips:

“Smith! Stop, you foul creature, stop it!”

As I heard those words tear themselves from my throat, I knew that I had blundered, and blundered very badly, indeed. I saw the look of triumph in the eyes of that loathsome hunter of men, as Smith practically jumped for joy, clearly delighted at having found me, and with another young fugitive, to boot. Even in the darkness of night, I could see that smile of malice that he wore when he was about to torment one of my fellow bondsmen, and this time, that smile was aimed squarely at me. He had leapt down from the stairs two at a time in his haste to get to me, shouting as he advanced upon us:

“I got you now, you little Fancy whore!”

Then, turning to look back at his two foul helpers, still holding Miss Mary and Little Sal, he cried out:

“Come on, boys, leave them two, they ain’t going no where, come on down here and help me catch this prize!”

As I heard those words, I felt young Tilly stiffen against my chest, even as Old Mary, unbidden, had already begun to surge forward into a full out gallop, her body starting to flatten out as her hooves tore great chunks out of the earth. I was infinitely grateful, once again, for her excellent training, and leaned forward protectively over Tilly as we both stretched across that long neck, both our pairs of feet digging hard into Old Mary’s flanks. And it had not been a moment too soon, for I saw at least one man running to get us, grabbing for Old Mary’s reins, everything a great confusion of shouting and stamping. I feared every last man there, for I knew that even without proof, every man here was bound by law to render all aid to that horrible man, Smith, at considerable risk to themselves, should they refuse. Their only recourse for refusal was if they had verified proof that Tilly and I were not fugitives, which of course, did not exist, for fugitives we certainly were. And now, if it were not for having Old Mary here with us, we would already be back in our bonds. I vowed, as we rode down the feint-hearted attempts of several pairs of hands seeking to stop our flight, that I would not let that happen. Neither of us here, neither young Tilly, nor myself, would be sent back into bondage. I would find a way to prevent that from happening at all costs.

As Old Mary move faster than I could have imagined her capable of moving, given her normal gentle manner, I had only the time it took to think those few brief thoughts, reminding myself that our best hope of staying out of chains, and off of that block, was to let Old Mary lead the way, and not to think about my poor friends, Miss Mary, and little Sally. There was nothing at all that I could do for either of them, at least not right now. I willed myself to focus on that tiny dark space in front of us, and it was a good thing, too, because as Old Mary cleared the last of the hands that sought to seize us, she then abruptly did something I had not expected: she wheeled to one side and bolted off again, making for the woods on what some part of my mind mechanically reminded me was the north side of that road. I knew this because I had looked up, wistfully, numerous times as we walked along that road during the day, wondering why we could not simply take our bags due North, rather than following this hazardous road east, before turning toward our intended destination, particularly when that destination was no pleasure trip, but one at which we must arrive in all due haste. As we charged into those woods, finally headed in the direction that I had wanted to go all along, my mind could only register bewilderment. I knew that this very special horse had all sorts of marvelous training, but for the life of me, I could not fathom what had just happened. We seemed to have been saved from capture specifically by her training, exactly to that purpose. How that could be possible, and where we were headed next, I had no way of knowing, as Tilly and I had both let entirely go of the reins, each of us holding on to the pommel and to Old Mary’s mane for dear life, as she crashed willy nilly through woods that only she could see. But she fled, on our behalf, from sounds that all three of us could certainly hear. The last human sounds I could make out were music to my ears. I could still hear a great confusion of shouts and cursing, including what sounded like those blessed constables objecting to the use of Smith’s dogs, brought up from Virginia:

“Sir, I must remind you that the use of those dogs in this manner is illegal here in the Commonwealth of PA, and that you are to …”

The intelligible parts of the man’s voice died out as we sped away, putting more distance between ourselves and the hubub, but I could still make out the words of that two legged animal, Smith, as he threw curses at the head Constable:

“…only one man, Sherif, are you blind? I need -”

And then, I could clearly make out, in a still louder shout, as if that Pennsylvania constable were trying to make the heavens open up, in his righteous anger:

“You will remove these animals at once, or my men will shoot them, Sir!”

So, it seemed that we were to enjoy just a little bit of protection from these Northern men, here in the blessed Commonwealth of Pennsylvania, after all, even if not very much protection. Anna, I was glad to see, was absolutely correct, both in telling us to avoid this damnable town, if at all possible, and also in working so hard to be sure not to allow us to accidentally stray back south of that Mason and Dixon line which I now understood to be of more importance than I had previously realized. The sounds of those reassuring Pennsylvania constable’s words were the last I could make out, as we fled across country, finally headed North, though just where into that land, I still could not see. I was about to thank the heavens above for both the legalistic wrath of the constable, and for the fact that horses did indeed seem to have far better night vision than we human beings, when suddenly the pommel rose to strike me in the neck. I half choked, instinctively letting go of the pommel and Old Mary’s mane as my hands flew up to protect my throat.

Young Tilly must have taken that same pommel strike somewhere lower down, perhaps in her chest, for she, too, had let go, as I saw in a split-second glance down as the child listed to one side, while I tilted in the other direction, scrabbling for a hold on anything that my hands could reach, but with my fingers only closing on thin air. I felt myself falling through the cold air, as if time had suddenly decided to move at half of its normal speed, and I realized two things. First, that I must make absolutely sure not to make a sound, under any circumstances, and second, that I had fallen off of Old Mary, while watching young Tilly also fall off, from the opposite side of the saddle. I landed in a patch of bushes, rolling just a bit, as Anna had said one must when one falls from a horse, as I could almost hear her saying: “every rider will come off of a horse at some time or other, so you must certainly know how to fall.”

I was glad of that lesson, now, for I seemed to have done myself no harm, when I fell off of Old Mary this time. Apart from a few bruises, perhaps, nothing seemed to be damaged, and no lightening bugs arrived to greet my lifted head, as I slowly sat up, looking first for any men who might have been pursuing us. Strangely enough, there seemed to be no one in the immediate area of my fall. I could still just make out the fire, and hear some of the ruckus going on, back where Smith and his foul beasts had tried to lay hands on us, but no one appeared to have followed us. At least, not yet, for there most assuredly would be pursuit, by Smith and his hired men, and also, at the very least, by some Northern men who would surely be forced, in accordance with this new law of which the Senator was so fond, to help the abominable head overseer in his task of finding and capturing us. Find us, he now had accomplished. Capturing us again, we might still avoid, if we were careful. There would no doubt also be other slave catchers, men who hunted fugitives like us in the hopes of getting the reward money for themselves. I therefore made it my first priority to find young Tilly, and then to find Old Mary, who was still carrying our precious documents in those saddlebags. Not to mention enough money that had been given to us by Dr. H. so that we might be able to rent a room in some inn or family home, if I could play my role well enough. First, I looked around as far as my limited sight would allow me, and spied a clump of bushes tall enough to hide me fairly well. There seemed to be no snow here, for some reason, to leave tracks that would betray me, so I headed quietly for the brush, crouching as low as I could as I made my way to my hiding place, where I made sure that I was as small and flat as possible, hoping that this would be a good enough hiding spot until I could think of a plan. I was counting on those good Pennsylvania constables to continue in their legal objections, and thus prevent Smith from coming to look for us with his dogs. First, I had to find Tilly. I went back over what I already knew, or at least back over what I had seen, and imagined that I knew, thus far. I had seen her head, and even felt, somehow, as I was falling out of that saddle, as if Old Mary had made a sharp turn to our left, hopefully not trampling poor little Tilly in the process. I was sure and certain that this had not happened, however, for I knew just how careful and delicate that horse was with her feet, and especially with a rider such as myself or Tilly, whom she knew well, underfoot. So I dismissed that worry, or at least I tried to. The next thing I needed to do was to understand where young Tilly now was, which ought to have been somewhere fairly close by, I imagined, and also find Old Mary. Tilly should have done the same thing that I had done, if Anna’s instructions were any guide. We were always to roll a little bit, find a safe hiding spot, and look about from there, to decide what to do next. The problem was that young Tilly, who seemed to have taken more of the impact from the pommel when Old Mary must have jumped over some obstacle in our path, which neither of us had been able to see, of course, might be lying somewhere injured right now. In this case, she was in grave danger, and even more so if she was exposed. Would Old Mary pull that same trick out of her hat from back when I fell off of her, and was injured? Could the horse put that particular training into practice without Anna here to make those odd bird calls she had made back then? And an even graver problem, if I was not mistaken, came to my mind. As I lay on the ground, only just having fallen out of the saddle, I could have sworn that, rather than stopping to lie down with young Tilly, as she had with me when I fell, I thought that I had heard Old Mary keep going. That thought was extremely troubling, to say the least, but I hoped that I could take some small comfort in knowing that no dogs would be coming after us, at least for the moment. How long those Pennsylvania constables would be able to keep Smith and his cronies from using their dogs in spite of the local law, who could say? I knew that I would never trust those overseers to abide by the laws of any locality north of Virginia, maybe not even those of Canada, for all I could tell. I had already seen what such ruthless men would do, and I had no wish to wait around long enough to find out what new schemes they would come up with to get around these men who had stayed the worst of their hands, for the moment, anyway. My head was aching so that I had trouble keeping my thoughts in order.

What to do? I must figure out where I was, orient myself so that I could make a plan which would help me to leave this spot, and begin my search for little Tilly. I must also quickly attend to any wounds she might have, hoping she could not have fallen too very far from where I fell. Then, I must find Old Mary, for she still carried many items that would be us great help to us. And, finally, I must make a plan to get us back to our original route, on the way east, as I had promised Anna that I would do, to return to the plan she had laid out for us.

So, where was I to start? First, by not giving in to this rising nausea, and above all, by not fainting.

***

Growing list of those born or died on Jan 5 in any year

Matilda Sissieretta Joyner Jones (January 5, 1868 or 1869 – June 24, 1933) was an American soprano.

Jason Mitchell (born January 5, 1987) is an American actor. He is best known for portraying rapper Eazy-E in the 2015 biopic Straight Outta Compton.

#blackwomen #blackhistory #blackmastodon