Freedom's Price Read Free Page A

bucket dragged in the dirt; drippings were heavier than they looked. But Eliza paid no attention. Instead shepracticed a hymn she had learned at church. Happy or scared, Eliza loved to sing. She cast her voice out toward the center of the river and then let it drift back like a fishing line.
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â  I’ve got peace like a river in my soul,
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â  I’ve got a river in my soul,
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â  I’ve got joy like a fountain in my soul,
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â  I’ve got a fountain in my soul.
    In the distance she saw the steam rising off Ma’s laundry kettle, taking a fantastic shape for an instant, then disappearing in the breeze. Bustling about the fire, Ma was easy to make out in her bright green cotton dress with a white apron. The same colors, Eliza thought, as the Edward Bates. Slaves usually wore a dull, faded blue, and no doubt Ma’s mistress, Mrs. Emerson, would take issue with Ma’s choice of color. However, since Mrs. Emerson was far away in Massachusetts, Ma could do as she liked. But her dress was still made out of cloth that marked Ma as a slave. If only the court would hurry and make up its mind—then Ma would be free to wear any color, any cloth, she pleased.
    In the distance, Eliza could see the other laundresses chatting and working together. The only person who seemed out of place was a colored boy hanging about the riverbank between Ma and the others. Not many boys helped with laundry. His short trousers and too-big linen shirt made it hard to gauge his height. She wondered who he was. If he was a slave, his master was too miserly to buy him boots. Ashe roamed along the bank, eyes fixed on the ground, Eliza decided he must be from the shantytown. The people who lived there were always scavenging for anything they might find along the riverbank.
    Eliza watched Ma lift the laundry with her long paddle, then push it back into the boiling water. She knew how heavy the wet clothes were, and she winced to see how Ma braced the small of her back with one hand as she stirred. It was odd that she hadn’t noticed before that Ma’s back hurt her. Maybe Ma just never let her go far enough away to see things in a new light.
    Lizzie was throwing a small wooden ball into the air and laughing out loud. Her little sister was so easy to please. The whole family loved to make her happy. Ma would scold and say they were spoiling her—but as soon as Ma heard Lizzie’s gurgling laugh, she would smile too. Take that ball, for instance. The delight on Lizzie’s face when Pa gave it to her had cheered everyone for days. Eliza smiled as Lizzie caught the ball once, twice . . . on the third throw, Lizzie missed. Faster than Eliza thought possible with her short legs, Lizzie ran after the ball, much too close to the river’s edge.
    The river looked like it ran slow, but its current was swift and hidden. Eliza’s eyes darted toward Ma, but she was too intent on the laundry to notice that Lizzie was in danger. In a split second, Eliza dropped the bucket and ran for Lizzie, shouting her name. Ma heard and whirled around, eyes searching for her little girl. Eliza was closer, and she scooped up her baby sister in her arms and started back toward Ma.
    â€œYou scared me half to death,” Eliza said sternly. “You can’t swim yet, and the river could take you away so fast that I wouldn’t reach you in time.”
    â€œBut I didn’t fall in,” Lizzie protested.
    â€œThat won’t matter to Ma.” Out of the corner of her eye, Eliza noticed the boy with short pants had started toward them, then stopped short. Perhaps he had wanted to help.
    As Eliza had predicted, Ma had some sharp words for Lizzie. “I should tie a