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<\/a><\/p>\nAt first, there was little crying. But when a boychild\u2014no older than five\u2014got sold out of his mama\u2019s handclasp, there was crying indeed. The boy wailed and the woman went to her knees, begging the heavy-bearded buyer, \u201cMister, he the bes\u2019 boy when I can help him. He can be whatever you want. Let me train him. In the name of Jesus, buy me too.\u201d<\/p>\n
Seemed her words fell straight to the floor. Nobody paid her mind. The buyer picked the child up and swung him over his shoulders like a bag of grain. The mother\u2019s words grew louder and more desperate. Louis heard a slap but didn\u2019t look towards it. The mother was sobbing\u2014full-voiced at first, with cries so sharp they could\u2019ve clawed the air. Then it became a sob song and finally a long, \u00admuffled moan. Louis\u2019s eyes insisted on finding her.<\/p>\n
Whoever had sent this woman to auction had gone to some trouble making her look good. Her hair was braided down both sides and tied in colorful ribbons. Her blue dress and muslin apron were not new, but they were clean. He wondered why anyone would sell her off. Well, sometimes folks just needed money. He understood that and knew that if his own massa should find himself in straits, the slaves would likely get sold before the furniture would. (Of course, the massa would never sell off all<\/em> his slaves. That household couldn\u2019t run itself, and nobody but the colored help knew how to keep it running. If some slaves got sold, the remaining ones would simply get more work.) He thanked God his massa was living well off, with hogs to process and meat to sell. Louis Gray had known his mama, Maria Gaines, all his born days, and he had never seen an auction until now.<\/p>\n\u201cThat\u2019s a healthy woman,\u201d said Massa Mortimer. \u201cWe might be able to get her for a better price right this moment. She\u2019s not showing herself to advantage, acting up that way.\u201d<\/p>\n
Louis could not speak the words that were filling him, so he stayed silent.<\/p>\n
Massa stroked his cravat. \u201cI personally couldn\u2019t do that to a mother, but not everyone is like me.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNo sir,\u201d Louis murmured.<\/p>\n
\u201cRipe hips on her, though she\u2019s trim built. From the size of the boy, seems her milk is good. I heard once of a man stuffed rags down a slave woman\u2019s dress so the buyer wouldn\u2019t realize she had no chest, only consumption. Slave died two weeks after the sale.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cIs that a fact, sir?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou have to beware. Even a white man will cheat you blind if he thinks he can do it. At an auction, you check the item\u2019s joints. Stiff joints can\u2019t pick. You check a female\u2019s dugs, so you don\u2019t find yourself paying for something death has already bought. And you check the back for whip marks. No use trading good money for a slave who can\u2019t keep his feet where they belong. Isn\u2019t that the truth?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYessir.\u201d But Louis had not heard. There were too many sounds\u2014the auctioneer, bidders, buyers asking questions, slaves answering in all the varied voices of defeat.<\/p>\n
\u201cWell, that woman\u2019s not wearing rags down her dress, is she? What do you think?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cSir?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cTake a good look.\u201d<\/p>\n
Louis obeyed. \u201cShe sad but not sick.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cHow about her arms?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThey fine, massa.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cTolerable strong, from what I can see. Legs?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cCan\u2019t say cause I can\u2019t see.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cShe\u2019ll need to walk for us. I won\u2019t have a cripple. What else do we need to look at, Louis?\u201d<\/p>\n
It was then, in a cold sweep of realization, that Louis understood why the massa had brought him on this trip and to this auction.<\/p>\n
\u201cMassa, this my first time. You knows your way around.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI want to view the teeth. No need to buy a mouthful of \u00adtrouble. You pay enough for a slave, and you\u2019d better get your money\u2019s worth. I paid considerable for your mama. Found her at a fine auction over in Kentucky. And she\u2019s been worth my investment. I won\u2019t settle for less than the best. I\u2019ll need to check the teeth on that woman before I turn over a penny.\u201d<\/p>\n
Louis watched his massa examine the woman\u2019s teeth. Her face was vacant as she opened her mouth. All the while Louis could hear the auctioneer telling a teenaged girl on the block, \u201cTurn. Bend over. Smile.\u201d The girl did everything she was told to do with no words or questions. A big, burly man bought her. Next, an old couple was led to the table, and the bidding began all over again, though with less interest than the girl\u2019s sale brought.<\/p>\n
Massa decided the woman\u2019s teeth were in good condition. When she went to the block, the auctioneer introduced her as a well cared for household servant who had done both cooking and field work, though she would be best placed in the kitchen or the home.<\/p>\n
\u201cHave her hold out her hands,\u201d Mortimer Gaines called.<\/p>\n
She heard and obliged.<\/p>\n
\u201cHave her bend her fingers.\u201d<\/p>\n
She bent them.<\/p>\n
\u201cHave her walk a few steps and then turn.\u201d<\/p>\n
She stiffened her back and took a step. Despite this indignity, there was a presence, a substance to this woman.<\/p>\n
\u201cHold your head up, girl,\u201d the auctioneer said.<\/p>\n
When she did, her eyes closed. Seemed her whole face closed, shut down. Seemed the spirit in her retreated to some unknowable distance.<\/p>\n
\u201cShe\u2019ll do,\u201d the massa said.<\/p>\n
The bidding commenced, and he purchased her. He also bought a male field hand, whose growth was just coming on him and looked to be promising. This young man was handcuffed and shackled as soon as his price was paid.<\/p>\n
On the way to the wagon, Massa Gaines instructed Louis to stay with the two new slaves. He was in the mood to drive, he said, and he wanted Louis to put them at ease, let them know they were lucky to be going to the Gaines residence. They had been bought by civilized, God-fearing people. It would be well for them to recognize that another, evil sort could\u2019ve had them.<\/p>\n
The field hand was kept in his chains. Up close, Louis could see that this was a child. His body may have started its bloom, but he wasn\u2019t no more than twelve years old. He seemed resigned but curious too, watching the scenes change around him: hills, woods, great pine forests, small farms, an occasional lake. When Louis smiled at him, he smiled back.<\/p>\n
\u201cWe get the shackles off you soon as we arrives. Massa don\u2019t keep us chained. He got a couple of sons just older than you\u2014Wilbur and Ben. You got a name?\u201d Louis asked.<\/p>\n
\u201cAdam.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cMy name Louis.\u201d<\/p>\n
The woman was huddled in the wagon corner, staring straight ahead with a face so empty and eyes so glazed she appeared dead. She did not answer when Louis asked her name. He didn\u2019t try talking to her again until they stopped at a little town to feed the horses and themselves. Massa spoke to a farmer while Louis took care of the animals and unpacked the ashcakes his mama had sent.<\/p>\n
When he offered the woman some food, she shook her head. He dropped the ashcake into her lap anyway and suggested she might be hungry later. \u201cI ain\u2019t never seed a auction,\u201d he whispered to her. \u201cIt\u2019s a ugly thing. I seen them take yo\u2019 boy.\u201d<\/p>\n
She met his gaze briefly. There was no life in her, except the quick movement of her eyes away from his.<\/p>\n
It wasn\u2019t until a week later, after they were back in Marshall at the Gaines slave quarters, that the woman told her name\u2014not to Louis but to his mama, Maria.<\/p>\n
\u201cMy name Gracie,\u201d she said.<\/p>\n
\u00a0<\/p>\n
\u00a0<\/p>\n<\/body><\/html>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
\u00a0 Darius Gray\u2019s grandfather, Louis Gray, was born a slave in Marshall, Missouri in 1858. We put the Louis\u2019s family\u2013his grandparents, Gracie and Louis\u2013into our second book of the Standing on the Promises Series. We researched the history and even visited the segregated cemetery in Marshall. Finally, we wrote the scene where Darius\u2019s great grandmother […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1301,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-2602","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-uncategorized"],"yoast_head":"\n
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We put the Louis's family--his grandparents, Gracie and\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:url\" content=\"https:\/\/www.patheos.com\/blogs\/welcometable\/2020\/07\/weeping-with-darius-as-we-wrote-the-auction-scene\/\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:site_name\" content=\"The Welcome Table\" \/>\n<meta property=\"article:published_time\" content=\"2020-07-15T12:42:48+00:00\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:image\" content=\"https:\/\/wp-media.patheos.com\/blogs\/sites\/313\/2014\/06\/Leggroans-farm-150x150.jpg\" \/>\n<meta name=\"author\" content=\"Margaret Blair Young\" \/>\n<meta name=\"twitter:card\" content=\"summary_large_image\" \/>\n<meta name=\"twitter:label1\" content=\"Written by\" \/>\n\t<meta name=\"twitter:data1\" content=\"Margaret Blair Young\" \/>\n\t<meta name=\"twitter:label2\" content=\"Est. reading time\" \/>\n\t<meta name=\"twitter:data2\" content=\"7 minutes\" \/>\n<script type=\"application\/ld+json\" class=\"yoast-schema-graph\">{\"@context\":\"https:\/\/schema.org\",\"@graph\":[{\"@type\":\"WebPage\",\"@id\":\"https:\/\/www.patheos.com\/blogs\/welcometable\/2020\/07\/weeping-with-darius-as-we-wrote-the-auction-scene\/\",\"url\":\"https:\/\/www.patheos.com\/blogs\/welcometable\/2020\/07\/weeping-with-darius-as-we-wrote-the-auction-scene\/\",\"name\":\"Weeping with Darius as we wrote the auction scene\",\"isPartOf\":{\"@id\":\"https:\/\/www.patheos.com\/blogs\/welcometable\/#website\"},\"datePublished\":\"2020-07-15T12:42:48+00:00\",\"dateModified\":\"2020-07-15T12:42:48+00:00\",\"author\":{\"@id\":\"https:\/\/www.patheos.com\/blogs\/welcometable\/#\/schema\/person\/d37d1777600358796768346d57ed0d47\"},\"description\":\" Darius Gray's grandfather, Louis Gray, was born a slave in Marshall, Missouri in 1858. 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<\/a><\/p>\n