The Prodigy Slave, Book Two: The Old World: (Revised Edition 2020) Page 3

  Highly Honored, Retired, Ohio University Teacher,

  William Werthington, And School Alumni, James Adams,

  Discover Unique Talent

  Two of Ohio University’s finest: James Adams, who recently graduated with a degree in medicine, and world-renowned music composer, William Werthington, have discovered an extraordinarily talented young Negro woman, born with a gift that most consider beyond the realm of human ability…

  After reading those first few lines, Mary Jo quickly snatched the newspaper from the counter and read the rest of the article. There was no picture of James, but with the mention of him being from Virginia, his medical degree, and the name of his “former” house slave, Mary Jo was certain that the James they spoke of was the one she had literally gone out of her way to see. That fact quickly changed her mind about taking a train north to see the show that Julia had just begged her to see.

  … And so now, not long after her journey to see The Dream Symphony, Mary Jo Parker sat in another dinner meeting in an extremely foul mood because of the things she had witnessed during, and especially after, that night’s show. Despite days having passed, Mary Jo had still not let go of her anger over that evening’s events. Her unrelenting disgust over those plaguing memories led her to give Jesse the same school newspaper article that she had stolen from Julia’s apartment. A perfectly preserved program from the Jamestown, New York show followed shortly behind it to serve as further proof of her story.

  When Jesse saw the title of the article, he snatched it off the table and began reading it to himself. As the article began to reveal the truth as to why James had really taken Lily away, Jesse’s face began to sneer like he was being subjected to a foul odor. When he was finished reading, he slammed the article down and stood up. “HENRY!” he shouted.

  “Yessa’!” Henry replied after quickly appearing in the doorway.

  “GET MY GODDAMN WAGON READY!”

  “Yessa’,” Henry said, promptly leaving to do as he was told.

  Mary Jo Parker lowered her head as a wicked smirk stretched across her pale face. For the first time in days, she felt her anger subsiding now knowing that Lily’s torture was imminent.

  Chapter Two

  Slave Code

  Article II Section X

  Persons willingly entertaining slaves, unlawfully absenting them from their owners, or permitting them to be about their houses or plantations for one hour or longer, shall forfeit one hundred pounds of tobacco for each hour, or pay a monetary penalty equal to the cost of the aforementioned goods. Free Negroes so offending shall be whipped; not to exceed thirty-nine stripes.

  Athens, Ohio

  Monday December 19

  Six Days Before Winter Garden

  For the first time in his life, Jesse Adams left the state of Virginia. After a two-day journey, he found himself in Athens, Ohio. The school article he read, which nearly threatened to rupture a blood vessel in his brain, did not elude to where James might be traveling to next with Lily. However, it gave him enough information to make him begin his search with the very same man his son had ventured to Athens to meet several months earlier.

  Once Jesse made it into Athens, he stopped for a beer at Buck’s Tavern and asked a bartender where he could find William Werthington’s home. He finished his drink, tipped the waiter well for his service and the detailed directions, and then began making his way to Werthington Estate. A half hour later, he was trotting down the very same tree-lined path that his son had traveled on while on his way to ask a tremendous favor from the world-renowned musician. However, unlike James’s journey that day, instead of being greeted with the kind disposition of a Negro man at the massive double doors of the mansion, Jesse was greeted by the double-barreled shotgun of Jasper’s rifle when he approached the gate. Jesse did not flinch at the sight of the cold steel aimed his way, but instead stared coldly at the man who held it, took his hat off, and spit tobacco on the ground. He then slowly climbed down out of his wagon and walked boldly toward a weapon that literally had the power to blow his head off.

  “State y’ur name and y’ur business,” Jasper said as Jesse approached him.

  “I’m here to see William Werthington,” Jesse replied.

  “Name?!”

  “Are you William?”

  “Nah.”

  “Then my name is none ‘a y’ur goddamn business.”

  Jasper cocked his rifle. “Name?!”

  Jesse squinted his eyes and spit again, but this time near Jasper’s foot as a blatant sign of disrespect. “Adams … Jesse Adams.”

  “William s’pectin’ you?”

  “Nah, but you can s’pect me to shove that goddamn rifle up y’ur ass if you don’t get it the hell outta my face!”

  Jasper fired a warning shot in the air, frightening an array of birds from the surrounding trees. He aimed the gun back at Jesse and cocked it again. “Next one’s goin’ in y’ur fuckin’ chest. Now, do I need to ask it slowa’ f’ur ya’, ya’ dumb fuck? Is … William … s’pectin’ … ya’?”

  “Nah, but he can s’pect a visit from the sheriff if you don’t march y’ur ass in that house and tell ’em to bring me my goddamn property.”

  “The fuck you mean y’ur property?”

  “He’s harborin’ my slave here.”

  “Ain’t no slaves here and neitha’ is William.”

  “Where is he?”

  “Not here!”

  Jesse walked up and fearlessly put his chest against the barrel of Jasper’s rifle. “Listen here ya’ little shit! You tell that som’bitch he’s got twenty-four hours to get my property back to me or next time I’ll come back here with a sheriff and a warrant for his arrest.” He peered briefly through the gates. “From the looks ‘a this purty little house ‘a his, I’m sure he won’t have no problem ’ffordin’ to pay me all the fines he done racked up by deprivin’ me ‘a her work.”

  “You got ’til the count ‘a ten to climb back up in that wagon and start makin’ y’ur way off this here property ’fore I splatta’ y’ur fat, sloppy ass all ova’ these goddamn woods,” Jasper replied.

  Jesse just stared at him and thrust his chest even harder into the barrel.

  “One…” Jasper began.

  Jesse spat near his foot again.

  “Two…”

  He put his hat back on.

  “Three…”

  Jesse finally turned as Jasper continued counting and climbed back into his wagon. “I’ll be at the hotel next to Buck’s Tavern. Tell that rich fucker to bring my son and my slave, or you’ll be diggin’ that rifle outta y’ur ass next time I see ya’.”

  “Nine…”

  Jesse tugged on his horses’ reins and trotted back toward town.

  The earlier gunshot had gotten Elijah’s attention, who was in the house getting dressed. After the closing performance of The Dream Symphony in Jamestown, New York, Elijah had taken a train back to Ohio. He had returned solely for an important meeting that he had with a venture capitalist. After his meeting, he planned to take an early morning train back to Manhattan in time for the art gallery auction and the final show at Winter Garden. Before he could finish getting ready for his meeting, though, he was disrupted by the confrontation at the front gate. He had thrown on the last of his attire, ran outside, and watched the tail end of the standoff between Jesse and Jasper. “Who the hell was that?” he asked Jasper after Jesse was a good way down the road.

  “Some nut claimin’ William’s got his property,” Jasper replied.

  “What property?”

  “Ain’t sure. Said somethin’ ’bout a slave.”

  “A slave?”

  “Yup, said he wanted his son and his slave back.”

  “What’d he say his name was?”

  “Jesse somethin’ ’r otha’ … Adams, I think.”

  “Adams?”

  “Hell, now that I think about it, ain’t that the last name ‘a that fell’ur what brought Lily here?” Jasper asked.

 
“Sure is,” Elijah replied.

  “Ain’t James the one claimin’ to own ’er?”

  “That’s what he claims, but apparently that ain’t all togetha’ true.”

  “Looks like we might have some trouble on our hands then.”

  “Why you say that?”

  “Way that man was talkin’, sounds like he thinks William stole ’er. Claims he’s harborin’ ’er here. Said he’s got twenty-four hours to get ’er back to ’em, or he’s comin’ here with the sheriff.”

  “Damn, that ain’t good … Not good at all.”

  “You headed back to New York t’morra’ mornin’, ain’t ya’?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Pass the news on then, will ya’?”

  “Oh, trust me, I will,” Elijah promised.

  Chapter Three

  Ghost Rider Grand Master:

  Supreme chief executive of the Ghost Riders

  Ghost Rider Code of Ethics

  Section 3.5

  Remain faithful to our cause and to the Ghost Rider code of ethics at all costs. Ghost Riding is your creed and faith, therefore let no angel, single man, foreign group, devil, or outside authority break you from your sworn oath to our allegiance.

  Jesse decided to put his twenty-four-hour window to good use. He trotted through the woods on the outskirts of Athens and came up on a rundown shack in the middle of nowhere. He was hoping there would be no need for this particular stop, but the more he thought about it, the more he felt it was necessary. A couple of young scraggly guys outside on the porch sipping beers followed his every move with unwelcoming eyes as his large frame climbed down slowly from his wagon. By the time he got down, he was greeted by yet another rifle, held by a man who seemed just as eager to kill him as Jasper. Unfazed again by the probability of his death, Jesse walked toward the barrel of the weapon without a care in the world. “I’m lookin’ for Tex Calhoun,” he announced after approaching the bottom of the rickety porch steps.

  “Who the hell’re you?” the man holding the rifle asked.

  “Name’s Jesse Adams.”

  “The hell you want with Tex?”

  “I got a friend back home in Fayetteville, Virginia … Duke Dixon. He said Tex would be willin’ to help me out whilst I’s here.”

  “Who’s this Duke Dixon fell’ur and how’s he know Tex?”

  “Said he’s his cousin.”

  “Teeex!” the man yelled, without taking his eyes or his shotgun off Jesse.

  Tex was at the door not long after. He was the only one of the three who was halfway clean and still owned all his teeth. “The hell’s goin’ on out here?” Tex asked his rifle bearing counterpart.

  “You got a cousin named Duke Dixon back in Fayetteville, Virginia?”

  “Yeah. Why?”

  “This fat fucker says he knows ’em. Claims he said you’d be willin’ to help ’em out whilst he’s here.”

  “What’s y’ur name, big boy?” Tex asked.

  “Jesse.”

  “Adams?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Thee Jesse Adams?” Tex replied pridefully.

  Jesse just nodded and spit out some of his tobacco.

  “Well, hell’s bells, feels like I oughta bow to ya’ or some shit.” He pushed his fellow cult brother in the head playfully. “Get that rifle outta his face, you sissified fucker. Don’t you know who he is?”

  “He just said his name was Jesse, dumb-ass!” the young man replied, still pointing his weapon at him.

  “Show’s you still got a lot to learn, boy.” Tex turned toward Jesse and pointed. “That there man is one ‘a the co-founders of the Ghost Rida’ organization.” He pushed his counterpart in the head again. “Now, I said get that fuckin’ rifle outta his face. Hell, you ain’t got the nerve to shoot a chicken let alone a man, any damn way.”

  The young man finally lowered his weapon. “Fuck you!”

  “Don’t mind these two little shits!” Tex said to Jesse. “They’s new and still got a lot to learn about this organization.” He waved Jesse over. “Come on in!”

  They all funneled into the shack, got Jesse a beer, and sat down across from each other on a few filthy sofas in what looked to be the living room of the dilapidated building.

  “Heard you’ve known Duke damn near y’ur whole life,” Tex stated to Jesse.

  “Yeah, we started runnin’ togetha’ when we met in school. Ain’t neva’ really stopped since then. He’s like a brotha’ to me now. Always been like an uncle to ma’ three boys. Wheneva’ me or my boys need anything, he’s always there. Same goes f’ur wheneva’ he needs anything. I’d neva’ hesitate to help. He ain’t no different than family to me.”

  “Yeah, Duke’s told me a lotta stories ’bout y’alls wild adventures through the years. Says you worked hard to put togetha’ the Ghost Rida’ organization. He’s always braggin’ on and on ’bout the things he’s seen you do, sayin’ we need more leada’s like you to help instill some passion and fearlessness into young weak little shits like these two.” He tossed his beer bottle at one of his two younger counterparts.

  “Fuck off, Tex!” He kicked the beer bottle aside. “Ain’t nobody gotta show me shit!”

  “Shut up and learn, boy. This man can teach y’all a thang ’r two. You can start by learnin’ to show some goddamn respect to the founda’ of this organization. And hell, he’s more than just a founda’ to me,” Tex boasted. He turned his attention back to Jesse. “If y’ur like family to Duke then y’ur family to me. And I’d do anything for family. So, tell me what we can do for ya’ whilst y’ur here?”

  “Well, it ain’t too often I ask nobody f’ur help, but I got a problem I think is far more than these two hands can handle for a change. A problem that’s gotten way outta control,” Jesse explained.

  “You’d be proud to know our Ghost Rida’ crew here is nearly forty deep now. Ain’t too many things we can’t handle. What kind ‘a problem you talkin’ ’bout?”

  “There’s some ol’ fucker just outside ‘a Athens named, William Werthington. I ain’t sure who the hell this rich bastard is, but he lives in a goddamn castle with a brick fence runnin’ ’round it like he’s some sort ‘a king. Even got some little pest sittin’ out front questionin’ folks ’fore he lets ’em through.”

  “Oh, we’re well aware ‘a who William is. Hell, everybody ’round here knows him. That nigga’ lova’s been blatantly crossin’ the color lines f’ur years. Heard he was housin’ a bunch ‘a slaves he bought and freed years ago. He used to work up at that big fancy university. He puts a whole hell of a lotta money into it now and gives out scholarships to some ‘a the kids ’round here what ain’t got no money f’ur school.”

  “Why haven’t y’all sent ’em a warnin’ yet?” Jesse questioned.

  “He’s helped so many poor kids ’round here pay for their schoolin’ that Sheriff Tolliva’ told us to leave the ol’ ancient fucker alone.” Tex waved his hand dismissively. “But hell, William’s harmless any damn way.”

  “Harmless?!” Jesse took the school article and show program out of his satchel that Mary Jo had given him and threw it on the table.

  Tex picked up the newspaper, read the title, and then threw it back on the table. “Yeah, so he had some nigga’ girl doin’ shows on his plantation a while back … so what? William’s what … ninety-nine years old?” He laughed along with the other two sitting with him. “Looney fucker’ll be dead soon any damn way. Ain’t hardly worth our time. We’re busy helpin’ with raids. Got a group ‘a folks tryna sneak slaves across the southern borda’s into safe houses and off to freedom. We catch us a shitload of ’em and sell ’em to black market buyers. We’re makin’ pure fuckin’ profit every night.”

  “Damn straight we are!” Tex’s young counterpart replied. “Besides, we ain’t seen or heard nothin’ ’bout that show ’round these parts lately anyway. So who gives a shit ’bout that ol’ man? I’d ratha’ be makin’ money at night catchin’ and sellin’ nigga’s.”

/>   “Who gives a shit?!” Jesse quickly stood up. “Who gives a shit?!” He stomped over and loomed over the young man, who still had his rifle sitting between his legs. “I give a shit! The reason you ain’t heard nothin’ ’bout that show ’round here lately is ’cause this William fell’ur done took my slave on a tour ’round the country playin’ that goddamn piano!”

  “Your slave?!” Tex stood up too. “She belongs to you?!”

  Jesse turned and gave him a dirty look, refusing to respond to a question he had already answered. “How in the hell can y’all stand by and know this was happenin’ in y’ur very own fuckin’ backyard and still have the balls to call y’urselves Ghost Rida’s?! We’re s’ppossed to stand f’ur keepin’ our race pure, f’ur remainin’ superior, and f’ur seein’ to it that not a single nigga’ has the chance to rise up at any and all cost. It shouldn’t matta’ what some fuckin’ sheriff has to say about it, or anybody else f’ur that matta’! The fact that y’all weren’t willin’ to abide by those basic codes makes none ‘a y’all worthy ‘a bein’ called fuckin’ Ghost Rida’s! Y’all ain’t nothin’ but a goddamn disgrace to the organization!”

  “You let your property get outta hand and then have the fuckin’ audacity to walk in here and call us a disgrace?!” Tex bit back.

  “Trust me! The way she got here is anotha’ matta’ that’ll most certainly be dealt with by me personally … and in the worst ‘a ways! Difference ’tween you ’n me is that this was all done behind my back! But while y’all were sittin’ ’round here worried ’bout some goddamn faceless nigga’s creepin’ through the woods in the middle ‘a the night, this fuckin’ backwards ass white man done put a slave on a pedestal and handed ’er more powa’ than any ‘a you fools could eva’ dream of! RIGHT IN FRONT ‘A Y’UR GODDAMN FACE!

  “All those slaves y’ur talkin’ ’bout makin’ money off of at night ain’t gonna exist anymore the longa’ you sit by and let shit like this happen!” Jesse continued. “Ain’t y’all heard they got some new goddamn Republican party rallyin’ togetha’, screamin’ about abolishin’ slavery?! Maybe y’all ain’t gettin’ that news out here in this shithole in the middle ‘a no goddamn where, but we’re catchin’ wind of it real loud and fuckin’ clear back in Virginia! So the last thing we need is some nigga’ on a stage for them activists to point to as the face for their ’cause, usin’ her as proof that nigga’s are worth more than pickin’ cotton and scrubbin’ my goddamn floors! Women like her and that rich nigga’ lovin’ som’bitch would lead to an uprisin’ with an army of angry nigga’s and holy white folks by their sides tryna revolt against our way ‘a life! I ain’t tryna be partially to blame f’ur no revolution like that! And neitha’ should any ‘a you! And y’all had the powa’ to stop it while it was right here in y’ur own backyard, but y’ur more worried about sellin’ worthless nigga’s, and pleasin’ a fuckin’ sheriff because that nigga lova’s handin’ a few fuckin’ dolla’s out f’ur people’s schoolin’! ARE Y’ALL OUTTA Y’UR GODDAMN MINDS?!”