Mutual Fear
It had been a few days since Mr. Burr’s visit to the Post. During this time, he dove into his archives, and read up on things he had missed. This is what would happen to a man bedridden due to a disease that wanted to force him to read. And read he did: the newspaper had been ripe with news for the week, while Dombey and Son was finally cracked open after dust had collected on its cover for quite some time. And in solitude Mr. Burr also consulted with the Bible, with pages creased to a section that he thought would help him in turning his luck around. Although, none of these would tell the truth of why he had been healed.
Those two were by his side the entire time again. Sable had suggested bloodletting to get him to feel better, yet he promptly refused like last time, while Dyson told him he needed to rest and drink some warm water. Mr. Burr did so, not because Dyson was a professional, but because he was not hooked on bloodletting. Now Mr. Burr was back to normal, which startled him dearly.
Was the loyalty of a negro deserving of more recognition? Or would that be placating them, making them feel worth it? The risk upon reward—if that had slipped out, who would tell? Would there be someone at his door with a gun pointed at his head?
Mr. Burr shivered. He turned over in his bed as his mind raced alone in the room, his thoughts plagued of what he had said a few nights ago:
I promised her, Dyson. I promised her to take care of everyone…
Yet here he was, considering if it was worth it to give them a ‘thank you’.
You two would have never stepped foot in this room six years ago.
Yet they have, several times in fact.
Because giving you quarters is only a sliver of what I need to do.
Truer words have never been spoken—
Then why do ya hide, Master?
Why do you hide, Master?
Why do you—
Hide?
Mr. Burr shot up from his pillow, panting heavily. To his right, light shined in from the outside window, while the rest remained dark. The sun offered no warmth despite its burning gaze, especially since Mr. Burr could see the cloud cover roam in. They stayed there, lingering, the gray shrouding God’s rays. The only warmth brought into the room was a candle at his bedside. The tip was worn through, burnt to a crisp. The heat pervaded the room. The wax that had dripped down its sides was now just a gooey, goopy mush that could be comparable to decorated boots on a hard summer’s day in the fields.
Grunting weakly, Mr. Burr rolled out of his bed. The blankets did not shed from his body as it now clung onto him, providing what little warmth remained. Shivering, the man peeled away the rest of his covers, groaning uncomfortably as he did, before he tended to his closet, which was across the room. He opened it gently, basking in his haul. He pulled out an assortment of clothes and graced them on his bed. He took his time, meandering over each, before deciding on his outfit: a white shirt with an upstanding collar, which was worn underneath his coat, while his trousers were of a cream color, and his shoes were of leather and a dark dreamy black. To complete it, he walked over to his makeshift hook, which held his usual brown stetson. He fitted it on his head and turned back around. Carefully, he hung the outliers back into his closet, and sauntered over to his nightstand. There he had left a small, old paper book that held his jotted-down worries. He put that book in his pocket before he left the room, leaving the door to softly click against its frame.
It didn’t take long for Mr. Burr to make his way down the stairs and onto his porch. Now that he was feeling well, he could finally make his way outside. There, he could observe his lot, the fruits of labor and their laborers, and there he did. He watched as Argus, one of the taller slaves, work the fields. His arms stretched out like wings but were tough and durable like an ox. They grabbed whatever they could purchase, which was more than the others, and he threw his grains into his oversized gray bag.
Like Argus, the remaining slaves were diligently working. Two, three, four alike, and many more were grazing in the fields. They settled for several moments, working the ground with their bare hands, before they moved again, shuffling under the watch of the sun. They moved and moved and moved, grazed and grazed and grazed, until they had enough to store in the barn. The cycle, the money that Mr. Burr knew best, filled the air. He took in the scent, and swore it was the best thing he had ever smelled.
Mr. Burr sighed. Despite his happiness, he had not seen Dyson or Sable yet. Where could they be? Was Sable conducting a headcount? Or was she checking the grains they took in the barn? Was Dyson helping one of the guards again? He could not recall if he had ordered them to do such things, or if he did and his memory had lapsed once again and somehow through his foggy haze told them to take care of his errands. The second was highly unlikely; they would need passes for those who were under his roof.
So, where were they?
The question lingered, as now his focus was not honed in on admiring his fortune. He was looking into finding two of his lot that had wandered off without him knowing. With his mind focused on a single objective, Mr. Burr turned away from his post and began his search. He descended the stairs with care, holding onto the railing for his life. There, when his legs met soil, he lost his grip. He walked safely forward into the foray of a harvest operating without its master.
It was contrary to think of a system like his where the mutual fear of a final day kept his slaves in line, but it was swiftly sworn throughout the ranks of his men to uphold this within means. Those means could reward them with safe refuge from a war raging on while sleeping comfortably in a barracks created by those who they watched and were sworn to protect. There, though. did Mr. Burr find flaws in his system. He knew of the slaves and their struggle; living under the inadequate barn he once used for his cattle. They are not as abundant anymore, as he was asked to have his cattle used as food for the soldiers of the Confederacy, now the livestock of the barn were of his workers, the life and blood of his plantation. He was fine with this equivalency until… recently.
“Harvest is doin’ well, Massa! Got all of ‘em in line out there!”
“It important that you are well, Master! To us and the farm!”
Sable and Dyson weren’t livestock. Not one bit. Neither were their families, a notion far too late to have realized. They all huddled under a leaky roof with water that dripped down on the hay, and they were probably welcomed by rats which squeaked in their ears at night. Mr. Burr had hired a rat catcher to lay traps in their wake, yet it was only a fresh ‘ask’. He knew he was far too late in getting this all set up, but he knew something had to be done. That old rickety barn was not considered a house. It did not shield his slaves properly from the weather, and it certainly did not appear safe for anyone to live in. It was just… there.
But what could be done of it? It was not of the guards' order to build the barn and even if the slaves did, what would that tell his hands? That they are equal to those they see as less of? Mr. Burr was at a wall that he could not climb up or break through. He was just stuck there, learning to say “Thank you” in a mostly hushed tone to a group that he was afraid to thank—and if he did, he let his true feelings slip in a form of rambunctious action, his excitement peaking. If someone overheard… it was a mutual fear, just like them. He had nowhere to go, nowhere to feel safe if they found out. Just like the slaves who could not feel safe in a shelter born of that fear.
This train of thought could not be disregarded. Mr. Burr knew that. But he had no time to dwell further. Time is money. And time is of the essence.
Mr. Burr passed by a couple more of his lot. They diligently handled the grains in their colored hands. He gave them a brief smile upon passing, which was still not unlike Mr. Burr. Kind even to the fault.
Yet, was he really? Was he doing enough?
Shoving his transgressions into a box, he sealed it with his steps, as he knew where to go next.
The new barn. Sable must be there. She would know where Dyson was.
The smell of money filled the air again. A much stronger scent, one that Mr. Burr drew in. He sighed happily, before he looked around. His eyes glanced between hay and grain and before long, he found her, her attention gathered to another slave too.
“Maria, y’know that these here grains needa go in the hold now and—Massa?”
Mr. Burr stood in front of her and smiled. “Great to see you’re keeping up the harvest, Sable.”
“Yes, Massa, I do! Everybody doin’ their part in gettin’ all this put in here.”
“Right they are,” Mr. Burr said, leering at Maria, a short charcoal-skinned slave with her hair put into a bun. The slave bowed out and left, carrying grain to the granary where it was to be stored for later use. Mr. Burr thought to say thank you here, but his tongue refused to move, so he watched as she left them alone.
Alone in the barn.
Mr. Burr smirked.
“Great to see the barn is all filled to the brim. Guessing you’re heading over to check the granary?”
“Yes, Massa. Goin’ have to if we goin’ get all this sorted, y’know?”
Mr. Burr hummed an affirmative before adjusting his hat to flick off a bead of sweat on his head. “Well, I hate to ask you for somethin’, but if you’re willin…”
Sable gave a swift salute. “What can I do for ya, Massa?”
Mr. Burr chuckled. “No need to salute, just a question for you to answer, if I may.”
“Shoot,” she said, putting her hands to her sides. “You know I’m willin’ to help.”
“That I do…” Mr. Burr murmured. He gulped the dry air. “Have you seen Dyson at all out here?”
“Dyson?” Sable said with a tilt of her head. “Hmm…”
Suddenly, she gasped and gave me a great bubbly smile. “I know where he is! Dyson was told by the guard to take care of somethin’ in town. They gave him a pass sir, so no worrin’ there for ya!”
Mr. Burr felt a wave of relief surge through him. He let out all the nervousness through his breath, the exhale shaking him to the core. He felt lighter after that, enough to feel the need to keep his hat to his chest. “Thank you, Sable. You know by chance when he left?”
“Hmm… a few minutes past sunrise, sir.”
“That early?”
Sable nodded. “Yes, Massa. Said it was somethin’ that needin’ to be taken care of right away!”
Mr. Burr sighed. Should he possibly reconsider his plans then? He could wait for him and take care of the plantation more. But something felt off about this, and he didn’t want to wait any longer to find out why.
“Thank you, Sable. If he does swing by here, let him know that I’m lookin’ for him. Okay?”
“Yes, Massa. I will.”
And that was that. Sable walked off and out of the barn, leaving Mr. Burr once again to his thoughts. He really felt dependent on the both of them as of late, where it be for his thoughts to not go stir-crazy or to simply help him with the harvest. Yet here he was, pining for the negro when he wasn’t feeling in line. A shame… sort of.
Sort of. The hesitation was there. It irked Mr. Burr as he hobbled down the walk, his feet crunching against the gravely drive. Why was he thinking this way? It must be obvious, if he just took a deep breath: . . . . . . . .
Mr. Burr had stopped in the middle of the drive, panting heavily. He could not come to a conclusion, just a standstill, one where he felt invigorated to get to the bottom of this conundrum, but conflicted enough where he was wracked with worry—he watched as a fellow took his child out on horseback, which he waved in return, only to feel rejected as a light hearted reply was touted—would he ever feel like he was doing the right thing? Did he have to consult with his bible later or go to church?
He wondered what day it was.
Mr. Burr sighed. “Maybe another day of rest may do me well.”
“A day of rest, Master?”
He felt like he had jumped out of his own skin. Mr. Burr turned and saw Dyson staring at him, his head tilted, his eyes wide. He had licked his own lips and wiped his face clean of dirt, probably from what that horse kicked up—
“Dyson, where were you?”
Dyson smiled as he spoke, “I was out by Mr. Stockton’s. Ya know how he is, sir. He felt the need to… talk to me about lotta things and ask me about you, Master. Not sure why, it was nothin’ to me. Then I went into town and delivered a letter for one of them guards. Had to do it for him as one of ‘em uniformed folk came up askin’ for him. Said he needed to get suited up again for war—so he handed me a letter sayin’ he was expectin’ ‘em and told me to tell ya that he was goin’ for it and joined the rest of ‘em marchin’ up our way! So it was double time for me and—why are ya lookin’ at me like you seein’ two of me? Did that horse get me good or?”
Mr. Burr came up to the boy and patted him on the shoulder. “Welcome back, Dyson. Thank you for takin’ care of all that yourself.”
That toothy grin appeared tenfold on his face. “No problem, Master! I am happy to help.”
Happy to help. Mr. Burr shifted his shirt and cleared his throat. “Yes, and I appreciate that. You think you can help me more in the barns? Think Sable needs some more help with getting the grains in and…”
For some reason, it felt like God was making him pay for some blood on his hands. The blood felt dry though, yet the copper taste remained. It must be a sign that he has to pay him a visit soon, LORD be willing.
The trees here reminded me of back home. Whenever we had them, they were taller than everybody. They protected us in the shade where we had our breaks. Everyone would huddle underneath them since there were so few on the plantation, but it was always a great time when everyone was together, chatting about the goings-on. Felt like home, so to speak.
Here, however, there were more trees than people. Here, we were shifting through each of them, walking in-between bushes just to gain some ground or some sort of visibility. These trees were extremely tall, and their canopies hid us well from the sun. Only some rays pierced through, giving us enough light to see what was in front of us.
Besides the trees, there was a lot of wildlife. Around us birds were still out, and the sounds of bugs chirping invaded my ears. It was a whole new world, which scared me as much as it made me wonder what was around the corner.
Rainbow Dash was out in front, her eyes peeled as she led us through the forest.
“Hey, Dyson?”
“Yeah?”
Rainbow Dash looked behind her and smiled. “Enjoying yourself back there?”
I rolled my eyes. “Nope. Although this forest is huge.”
The mare chuckled. “Yeah, some say we would also be in the Everfree Forest, but we’re really still in the Gorge.”
“Everfree Forest?”
Rainbow Dash hopped over a large tree root that was sticking out the ground as she spoke, “Y-Yep—be careful of that root right there—the Everfree is a forest free from any weather that we control. Basically it works outside of what we know of magic, so we try to contain the storms that wander into Ponyville from there.”
“So your Everfree is like what I had normally?”
Dash stopped in her tracks. It was as if she froze because of what she saw ahead. However, instead, she turned around and looked at me, her jaw slightly hanging open. “Uh… what?”
“Yeah, the weather ain’t controlled by us. It just happens randomly. Sometimes we would get lucky and get sunny cool weather, and the next it would be hot and rainy, which could be a godsend if we were in the shade or in the barn and—why are ya lookin’ at me like that?”
“How does it work?” Dash asked, her head now tilted far to the right.
I shrugged. “I didn’t get that far in the books Master had. He gave me nothin’ to read, so I went over and grabbed one when he ain’t lookin’. I… learned some things, primarily words that I needed to know when goin’ out to help Master with some of the things he forgot, y’know?”
Dash snorted. “That guy still sounds horrible whenever you mention him.”
“He wasn’t that bad—”
“Bad enough to still hurt you and your family?”
I sighed. Yes, he was bad, and yes he hurt me, just not as bad as the others. “I guess, but he was the only one that had some faith in me. I rather pick him over any of ‘em.”
Rainbow Dash frowned as she shoved a bush aside with her wing. “That’s the point, he never gave you the choice to choose. But whatever,” Dash stated, groaning. She looked around and threw her hoof to me. “Come on, this way.”
“Where are we goin’?”
I shoved some of the branches poking out of the bush to get by it, while Dash spoke, “Near a watering hole I know that’s nearby.”
“Watering hole?”
“Y’know! A clearing that’s got a clean pond.”
I raised a brow, but kept on following close by. We made a right pivot onto a nearby dirt path that weaved between the trees. “Never heard of those. All we had was cotton, corn, and an oak tree on a hill.”
“That’s it?”
“Yeah, it was like that for the majority of the time. Unless we went into town, then there were a few buildings with people in ‘em. General Store and the Post were the places to be, and at night, all the white folks went to the Crossroads. That place was packed most nights.”
“The Crossroads?”
“Yeah, they sell liquor there. Although, Master went there to bring home more slaves.”
Rainbow Dash gasped as she nearly tripped on another root on the ground. “Dyson, you have to be kidding me. They sold slaves at a bar?”
“A bar? That’s what they call that here?”
“Not one that sells ponies! That’s so wrong on so many levels!” Dash shouted as she stumbled past another bush. She took a deep breath and calmed herself down. “I am so happy you are not there anymore. You actually can feel like you have a life.”
I blinked and nearly stopped in my tracks, but I felt that I needed to stay close. She was going headstrong ahead of me even after saying all that. “Well I am glad no one is gettin’ sold like I did.”
“If they were, they would be beaten up by me for sure… either that or turned to stone.”
“T-Turned to s-stone?”
“Yeah. Pretty deserving, don’t ya think?”
I stayed silent after that. I did not want to have anyone turning me to stone, and I certainly didn’t want her to think of me as a stone-cold-case.
The rest of the way there was pretty normal. Got nearly knocked off my feet by a branch that she nearly smacked me with. She laughed at me when I yelped—the mare didn’t even give me a heads-up!—so I glared at her the rest of the way. Needless to say, just a whole lot of walking, and trying to watch where I was stepping.
Then, the moment we were finally waiting for was in front of us, a large clearing where no trees were growing. Several bushes were still there, dotting the outskirts of the forest, while the grass grew tall. There, in the middle, was a small body of water. It was like one of those ponds back at home, but slightly larger. It wasn’t too deep though, as Rainbow Dash decided to prance right into it.
“Dash?”
“Come on, Dyson! Come get some water!”
Wasn’t going to not go in and join her. So I did. I slurped up some of that tasty water and smiled. “You’re right, this is clean. Tastes great!”
“Yep. Only we need to find some food, and fast,” Rainbow Dash said before she craned her neck back in the water. She took a few sips before continuing, “It’s getting late.”
All this walking made me completely forget what time of the day it was. The sun was setting behind the trees, and the sky was turning a faded, orange color. I looked around and saw that we were surrounded on all sides by the forest, with no end in sight. I knew what this meant.
“Not to mention we need to find some place to sleep too, Dash.”
“Yeah… and I’m not sure if we can set up camp or something down here…”
I tilted my head. “Why aren’t you sure?”
Her ear twitched as she turned around. “Well, there’s a lot of trees and not alot of space anywhere. This is the only spot, and it’s right where anything can get us.”
That was true. And with all those predators she was talking about earlier, I did not want to meet them anytime soon, if ever. “Alright, so what’s the plan?”
“We could continue a bit further through the clearing to see if it bridges into another one.”
“You think that could happen?”
“I mean, yeah, this one might bridge into a smaller one that has a cave or something—maybe we’ll find something along the way to eat?”
“You think none of these bushes have any berries growin’ on ‘em?”
“Probably, but nothin’ really edible,” Dash said, looking at one of the bushes by the pond. There were red berries on them, but they had a white streak going down the center of them. “See these ones here, Dyson?”
“Yeah,” I replied, looking at them intently. I was about to put my hand on them when she batted it away with her hoof.
“They’re extremely poisonous—they can even dissolve skin.”
“Wait what?”
“They’re called Burster Berries. Gross ones if you accidentally ‘burst’ one open. Saw a pony with a nasty scar on their body—her hair no longer grows back in that spot.”
“Wow,” I muttered, peering at the berry bush. “How do you know about all this?”
The mare’s eyes widened. “I… uh, read a few books.”
I squinted at her and scratched my head. “You don’t look like the readin’ type.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah. Yet again, I been wrong before, so…”
“You’re definitely wrong, Dyson. I just read certain ones.”
“Are those the ones about livin' on ya own?”
My raised eyebrow must have made her a bit agitated, if her furrowed brow and brief blow were anything to say about it. “No, I read… adventures. Ones with lots of action and mystery.”
“Guess you are that readin’ type then,” I said with a smirk. I patted her on the top of her mane with my hand before scouring the bushes further. “If you like ‘em, then keep readin’ ‘em. No one goin’ to judge ya.”
“Then why did you just pet my head?”
“See if you were fibbin’. Looks like you ain’t, so I ain’t proddin’ no further.”
She raised a brow, but shook her head shortly after. “Just so you know, I am not the ‘fibbing’ type.”
“Good, because I need ya to tell me what these berries are…”
Time collapsed around us as we collected some food from the berries nearby. Thankfully, not all of them were toxic to us, as Rainbow Dash pointed out which ones were good to eat, and which ones were… not so good to eat. By the time we gathered all that we could, we had collected a handful of berries, which made me extremely happy, and Dash a bit puzzled by it all, her muzzle scrunched up when I told her she was wrong about the bushes not having anything to eat on them.
Most of what we got looked like the blueberries and blackberries from back home. They looked really delicious and I couldn’t help but start picking at a couple. That got Rainbow Dash’s attention, and she told me to share her some, which I obliged. We walked side-by-side as we ate and spoke, her body nearly brushing up against my leg.
“Guess we did find some food near that watering hole after all,” I said with a grin. I popped a blackberry in my mouth and happily chewed the goodness that seeped into my gums.
“It’s not going to keep us from starving though. We’re going to need more,” Dash replied. She sighed. “And we don’t have much time. We might just have to look real fast for a spot among the trees and—”
“Does that spot work?”
Rainbow Dash looked at my outstretched arm. I was pointing at a little raised section near the treeline that was still covered by a huge canopy of a tree spread over it.
To say Dash was happy was an understatement. “That’s a perfect spot! All we need to do is… well, make a shelter.”
“That’s easier said than done,” I said. “Come on, let’s see what we’re working with.”
We walked over to the place I spotted, a small little hill clear from any trees. Next to it, though, was the forest, as if it was watching over us as we stood on the clear land. Scattered around were tree branches most likely left by a wind gust of some kind, yet it still was mostly green grass, save for a small patch of dirt in the center.
“Lookin’ good. We probably could use the sticks for a fire…”
Dash nodded before picking some of them up in her mouth. She carefully placed her collection where that patch of dirt was and tilted her head at me. “You going to help, Dyson?”
I staggered over to her. “Yep!”
We collected all the loose branches around us until our pile grew. I even picked up a few stones at a nearby rocky outcrop and placed them to form a ring around the pile of sticks. With a bit of ingenuity and luck, we had the workings of a fire.
“You think this will be enough?”
I frowned. “Probably not, but what else do we got?”
“Not a whole lot… the sun’s pretty much set and we don’t have anything to protect us against the cold…”
“Then I guess the only way we goin’ get warm is by huddlin’ up.”
“Huddling up?” Dash said with a raised brow.
“Yeah, we can keep warm with the fire and layin’ next to each other.”
Dash’s lips formed into an ‘o’ before a slight red blush appeared on her face. She looked away from me for a moment, casting her gaze on the moon just now rising to the occasion. It crept over the trees, looking down at us while we were standing still… without a fire.
She took a deep breath. “Let’s just get this fire started.”
I gulped. “Sounds good, Dash.”
It didn’t take long for us to get a fire going as Dash was great at making sure I knew how to ‘rub two sticks together’. Regardless, I was able to get a spark while she was able to get the timber to light up. With the fire now started, we both sat down next to each other, smiling at one another.
“We did good today, Dyson. We should be able to get to where we need to be by tomorrow.”
“You think so?”
“Nope, but that’s what I’m hoping for!”
I rolled my eyes as she laughed. “Sorry, just need to make sure you’re not giving your hopes up. Can’t have that, can we?”
“No,” I said while snickering. “Not one bit.”
“You alright?”
I scooted closer to Dash as I spoke, “Other than the pain in my ribs? Doin’ great. You?”
“G-Good. Although I am in the same boat as you, except with my wing.”
“It ain’t infected at all, right?”
“I don’t know, it didn’t look like it,” Dash said while looking at her wing. In the light of the fire, her wing didn’t look too bad. Although it was still, well, broken. “You think it’s okay?”
“It might be fine… I ain’t a doctor though, and if I was back home, a doctor would be tellin’ ya it needin’ to be taken off or somethin’.”
Dash rolled her eyes and waved a hoof in my direction. “Pft… like I said, we have actual doctors here. They won’t go that far unless it is really really bad.”
I hummed quietly to myself before I looped my arm around her. “Well as long as I have ya around, then I be fine then, right?”
“Uhh, yeah! Totally,” Dash chirped quietly. She curled closer but laid her head on my leg. “You want to watch first, or do you want me to watch?”
“I can stay up, Dash. Get some rest.”
She looked back at me once more, an eyebrow raised. “Are you sure?”
“Yep. Been needin’ some time to think to myself.”
"Okay,” Dash said, before leading her head back on my leg again. She closed her eyes and hummed softly to herself. “Wake me up when you’re ready.”
That was that. The mare was fast asleep.
I sighed and looked up at the sky. Is this really how this is going to go? Am I really going to get out of here? Is it that when I fall asleep, I’ll be back at home? Will sis and Momma look at me like they just saw a ghost?
I gulped and looked around. I couldn't fall asleep yet. I had to keep a lookout for Rainbow Dash here. She needed me, just like sis and Momma needed me. I’ll wait until she's awake to think about that.
I petted Rainbow Dash’s mane while my memories kept me company.
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Song reference for this chapter:
This reminded me that Spotify recently let back all the white power bands onto their platform. Strange coincidence but glad to see equality is winning again.
Burr’s trying to figure himself out, and also trying to figure out how to obey his conscience without immediately burning everything down and making life worse for his, "employees".
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ohmygosh i see u im big fan*happy bouncy noises*
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Ayyy, waddup.
I love trolling on this story since one of my besties wrote it. So you'll find me here every time this story updates lol
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The revival is here!
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Good to see you back on the fic, Venerable.
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Real recognizes real.
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The South started the war though by attacking Fort Sumter and the declarations of secession mention slavery as the cause.
I think Applejack would be proud of Dyson poking holes at Rainbow's pretensions.
Dyson is good depiction of how being uneducated is not the same thing as being dumb.