The entire town of Millersburg showed up for the event. It was during the dog days of summer, and the heat was terrible. Me and Lizzie stood solemnly facing the gallows, along with half of the other negros. Sweat poured from my brow, and I be wiping it away with my handkerchief.  Massa Edward thought it was important that all us negros be witness to the hangin’ so that we don’t get any ideas ‘bout runnin’ away or stealing from white folk. He wanted us to be scared.

In the public square, a gallows was erected right across the street from where the supposed crime took place. From what we were told, a free negro boy was caught red handed, stealing food and assorted items from the local market. All the white folk milling around, acting like they be going to see a parade. They was selling drinks and food for the entertainment. 

Two big men dressed in black led the boy, bound in rope, up the gallows. Leading the way was the sheriff and the mayor. Other important town leaders stood directly in front. The short skinny boy looked to be no older than seventeen or eighteen. He be shaking all over, all wide eyed and scared. Lizzie just shook her head and gripped my hand tighter.

“Ladies and gentlemen, fellow towns folk. We are gathered here today August 17, 1826, in the day of our lord, to witness the execution of one nigger boy by the name of Daniel, who has been tried and convicted of the crime of stealing food and other merchandise from Mr Connely’s market. Boy, do you have anything to say for yourself before we pass sentence?” said the sheriff.

“I didn’t steal from Mr Connely, I swear. Please believe me. I didn’t do it,” he said, crying. The two men held him tight, as a third man put a hood over his face, and slipped the noose around his neck. The boy’s knees shook and gave way. The men kept him standing. I noticed he had pissed his britches. I done seen more than my share of death in this life, but this was by far the hardest to bear watching. 

The boy shook like a leaf as the floor dropped below his feat. He swung back and forth with his legs kicking wildly. Audible gasps could be heard throughout the crowd. Lizzie turned and buried her face into my chest. I heard both sobbing and laughter as his body hung lifeless and still. Massa Edward looked around with a smile on his face to see our reaction. I think he got a certain feeling of satisfaction from seeing the look of fear on our faces. 

He marched us all back up the road towards the farm. Him and his friends rode on horseback with their rifles slung over their shoulders just in case one of us should run. They joked among themselves as we marched silently along. I felt my anger and rage grow for him deep in my heart, yet I held it in and bit my lip.

Massa had us back working in the field that afternoon, cuttin’ weeds. I heard other men talking quietly about the hanging. The boy that was killed was a free man, but he was no more free than the rest of us. The incident just showed us that there was no where to run. What freedom there was to be had, was rumored to be to the North. Anger was mixed with hopelessness as I stood hooking the weeds with the scythe. Baccer looked yellow and ready to cut. Soon as the crop was harvested, we would be surly be sold down the river. 

That evening, Massa Edward’s nephew, Howard, and his wife, Virginia, along with Edward’s sister, Sarah, were visiting the main house. The women sat on the front porch in their big fancy dresses, embroidering pillows. I was out in the front yard tending to the guest’s horses, while they talked about the hanging. 

“I just don’t see the point of dragging all the negros out to see a hanging. Isn’t it enough that they are held captive?” said Virginia. “I wish I hadn’t gone.”

“Edward thought it was for their own good to see what would happen if they should try to escape or break the law,” said Sarah.

“Do you think it is right that negros should be held as slaves? I’m forbidden to speak on the subject to Howard. He thinks it is perfectly fine to own slaves,” said Virginia.

My ears perked up from hearing this conversation. I stopped brushing the horse momentarily. Bessie walked out onto the porch carrying two cool drinks to the women.

“How do you feel about the right of men to own slaves, Bessie?” said Virginia.

“You asking me how I feel? I best not say, Mrs Virginia. I just saw a young boy get hanged today, and I fears for my sons. I don’t wants that to happen to them,” said Bessie, letting out a big sigh.

“But is it right, in a country where all men are supposedly created equal under the eyes of God?” said Virginia.

“My dear Virginia, men in the Bible owned slaves. It’s a normal institution. Peter 2:18 says, slaves, submit yourselves to your masters with respect, not only to those who are good and considerate, but also those who are harsh. And then in Ephesians 6:5 it says, slaves, obey your earthly master with respect and fear, and with sincerity of heart, just as you would obey Christ. God had no problem with men owning slaves,” said Sarah. “No stop with all this silly talk and let’s discuss something more pleasant.”

Bessie looked over at me and rolled her eyes. I snapped to and got back to brushing down the horses before someone noticed me slackin’.

It got me to thinking. If their God thinks it’s okay for men to treat other men like dogs, then I don’t want no part of their God or their heaven.

In the slave quarters that night, everybody be all quiet. It was laying heavy on our minds. Duke sat on his cot, his eyes all red and mad with anger. He was breathing all heavy and pounding his fist into his hands. 

I reached over and lifted up my fiddle from the pegs it was hanging on, from above my cot. I put the fiddle against my chin and laid the bow across the strings. I played a funeral hymn all nice and slow as the men sat around and listened.

“We need a plan. Just like you said, Jim, a good plan,” Duke said, looking right at me. I scrunched my nose and cocked my head wondering what he was thinking about.