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Authors: Michael Phillips

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BOOK: A Day to Pick Your Own Cotton
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“What you doin’ dat for, Miz Katie? I don’ want you ter leab me alone. What about Mayme?”

“That’s why I’m going to town—I’m going to try to get some help.”

Katie led Emma down off the road and amongst the trees, quickly dismounted and tied Emma’s horse so it wouldn’t wander off, then helped Emma down.

“You stay right here, Emma, until I come back. I won’t be more than fifteen or twenty minutes, I promise.”

Without waiting for Emma to protest further, she mounted again, urged her horse back onto the road, and galloped away toward town as fast as she could. By now she wasn’t worried if anyone saw her. She was desperate and didn’t care. She wasn’t even thinking about being found out or what Mrs. Hammond or Henry or anyone else might think.

Six or seven minutes later she was galloping past the church and into town, past Mrs. Hammond’s store and down the street, still as fast as she could go. The sound of the hooves pounding down the middle of the street past the bank made everyone stop and stare as she flew by, wondering what was going on. But Katie wasn’t paying them any attention and didn’t slow down until she came to the livery stable, where she reined her horse to a dusty stop. Even Henry’s looks and questions weren’t enough to make her lose her determination now.

“Where’s Jeremiah?” she asked as she ran toward him, out of breath.

“Back dere cleanin’ out da livery,” began Henry. “But what’s you in sech an all-fired—”

Already Katie was past him and running inside the building. She would have to figure out how to answer the questions later.

“Jeremiah … Jeremiah!” she called out as she hurried into the dim light. “Jeremiah—it’s Katie Clairborne … please, I need your help. Mayme’s in trouble.”

Jeremiah dropped the pitchfork in his hand and strode toward her.

“Some men have got Mayme,” said Katie frantically. “White men … and I’m worried and afraid and we’re going to go try to help her, but I’d feel a lot better if you were with us.”

“Jes’ lead da way, Miz Clairborne,” said Jeremiah, “an I’ll do what I can—”

Katie turned and ran back outside as Jeremiah, still more than a little confused, hurried to catch up.

“—but I ain’t got no horse er my own.”

“You can ride with me!” said Katie, running to her horse and jumping up onto its back. “Just climb up and sit behind the saddle,” she called down, not even thinking of the impropriety of such a thing.

Less than a minute later, Katie was flapping the reins and galloping back through town the way she had come, leaving a bewildered Henry watching them go, along with a wake of townspeople, shocked, no doubt, to see a white girl and a colored boy flying down the street on the back of the same horse.

Katie caught a glimpse of Mrs. Hammond standing in front of her store, watching the scandalous scene with her mouth half open. “Well, I never—” she began, but the drumming hooves drowned out whatever else she was about to utter.

Jeremiah asked no questions, and Katie did not even try to explain until they slowed down and she led the way off the road.

“I’m going to say the same thing to you,” she said, glancing behind her, “that Mayme said to you before. Please … don’t tell what you see or who you see or anything. I can’t make you promise because there’s no time to worry about it, and we’ve got to try to rescue Mayme. But I hope you’ll keep quiet, as I’m sure you’ve been doing, since nobody’s come around asking us questions—well, except for one man, which is why Mayme’s in trouble.”

Before Jeremiah could reply, Katie had stopped the horse and was dismounting.

“Who dat?” asked Emma, looking up at the young man who was just as surprised to see her as she was him.

“Never mind who it is,” said Katie. “He’s the boy who came out to the house one time and he’s going to help us.—Jeremiah,” she said, turning back to him, “would you ride behind her on the other horse? She’s not too secure in the saddle.”

Jeremiah jumped down and obeyed.

“Get up,” Katie said to Emma. “It will be all right—he won’t let you fall.”

In another minute they were on their way again, more slowly now the closer they approached the McSimmons place. As they went, the horses side by side, Katie briefly tried to explain the situation to Jeremiah.

“These are mean people, Jeremiah,” she said, “and if they see too many more black faces, there is no telling what they might do. For reasons I can’t tell you about, if they catch so much as a glimpse of Em—I mean, if they see her,” she added, still not sure how much it was safe to divulge and nodding toward Emma as she said it, “they’re likely to kill her. So we’ve got to stay out of sight. And I don’t want you to be in danger either. So if anything bad happens, you get away and take her with you. Get as far away as you can and take her back to my house until I get back.”

“What about you, Miz Katie?”

“If anything happens, I just want the two of you to get away as fast as you can. They won’t hurt me—I’m white.”

“What you plannin’ ter do?” asked Jeremiah. “If dey’s got Mayme, how you gwine fin’ her?”

“I don’t know. We need to sneak up to the house somehow,” she said. “There’s a black servant lady named Josepha that we’ve got to find without anyone seeing us.”

“I kin git in da house, Miz Katie,” now said Emma. “I know where dere’s a way in wiffout bein’ seen. I snuck in an’ out lots er times. I’m sorry, Miz Katie, but I was a crackbrained coon an’ I done things I shouldna done.”

“We won’t worry about that now,” said Katie. “You can talk to God about it if you want to, but right now we’ve got to try to get Mayme away from there. So how do you get into the house without anybody seeing you?”

“Dere’s a cellar dat don’t nobody go in much where dey keep wood an’ coal fer da winter. An’ it’s got stairs down to it from under da pantry window, an’ if dere ain’t nobody at dat window, dey can’t see nuthin’ ob you from all da way to behind the chicken shed. Dat’s how I sometimes went out, up from dat cellar, den I’d run across to da chicken shed.”

“Can we get to the chicken shed without being seen?” asked Katie.

“I reckon we can try, Miz Katie, hidin’ dese horses in da trees nearby an’ den creeping to da shed when dere ain’t nobody lookin’.”

“Then we will have to be very careful to make sure no one sees us on the road, and then ride off into the woods when we get close to the place.”

They continued on their way and did just as Katie had said. But once they were off the main road and getting closer to the plantation, Emma wasn’t much good with directions, and it took them quite a while to find it. But at last they saw the house in the distance through the trees. They tied their horses and dismounted.

“Maybe you ought to stay with the horses, Jeremiah,” said Katie. “Just in case somebody sees them or something. I don’t suppose there’s any sense in all three of us getting caught in the house. Remember what I said, if anything bad happens, you two get away and don’t worry about me.”

Katie and Emma continued on foot until they were at the edge of the trees.

“See, Miz Katie,” said Emma softly, “dere’s the chicken shed. We gotter run dat far in da open.”

They looked about. Most of the activity was on the other side of the house where the barn and storage buildings were located. Katie looked all about until it seemed like the way was clear.

“All right,” she said, “let’s go.”

“I’m gettin’ skeered, Miz Katie.”

“Me too. But we’ve got to do it for Mayme, remember? It’s time for you to be brave.”

“All right, Miz Katie, I’ll try.”

They ran out from behind the trees, hurried across about fifty yards of open field, quickly climbed a short wood fence, and dashed for the shed. A flurry of squawking came from inside as they crouched down behind it, but it soon died back down.

“I hope nobody seen us!” said Emma.

“I hope so too,” said Katie. “What do we do now, Emma?”

“Stick yo head aroun’ da corner, Miz Katie.”

Katie did so.

“You see dat slanty cellar door under dat part ob da house dat sticks out from da rest—dat’s da pantry and dat’s da cellar beneath it.”

“What if it’s locked?”

“It ain’t neber locked dat I recollect.”

“Then let’s run for it.”

“Wait, Miz Katie! You gotter make sure nobody’s in dat window dat can see us.”

Katie looked around the corner of the shed. “There
is
somebody there,” she said. “A black lady.”

Emma stretched her neck around the corner to look. “Dat’s Josepha! I don’t reckon it matters if she see us.”

“That’s who we’re trying to see anyway,” said Katie. “Let’s go.”

They inched out from behind the shed and in a few seconds were dashing for the house. Inside the pantry the movement caught Josepha’s eye. She looked down to see a white girl and a black girl just disappearing from sight under the ridge of the house.

“Land sakes!” she exclaimed under her breath. “Effen it ain’ dat fool Emma an Mayme’s white frien’!”

She turned and waddled hurriedly back into the kitchen and kept going straight through.

“Where are you going, Josepha?” a voice said after her as she went by.

“To da cellar, Mistress McSimmons,” answered Josepha without slowing down.

“What for?”

“I … got ter git sumfin I lef ’ down dere da other day. I’s be back up in er jiffy.”

As fast as she dared Josepha opened the door. The cool dank air of the cellar met her face. Closing the door behind her, she inched down the narrow stairway into the darkness, each step groaning beneath her weight. When she reached the earthen floor, she took a match from her pocket, struck it on a stone, and held it in front of her, looking for a candle. But before she could find one, two figures suddenly approached through the thin light at the far end from the outside door by which they had entered.

“Tarnashun!” she exclaimed in a loud whisper. “Where’d you two come from!—Emma, you guttersnipe, whatchu doin’ here? Da master’s like ter kill you effen he finds you! He been lookin’ high en’ low fer you, an da mistress, she be as mad as a cornered coon on account er you.”

“Please, Josepha,” said Katie, “we came back to find out what they’ve done with Mayme. Where is she?”

Josepha looked away. But Katie had seen the fear in her eyes at the question.

“Where is she, Josepha?” she repeated.

“Dey had her in da icehouse all day yesterday,” she said. “But den dis mo’nin’ I hear’d dem sayin’ dat da whuppin’s wasn’t doin’ no good an’ dat dere wuz only one way ter make a stubborn nigger loosen up his tongue.”

“And what was that, Josepha?”

Again Josepha looked away.

“Josepha,” said Katie, reaching out and forcing the large black woman’s face back in front of her, “I want you to tell me what they meant.”

“I’m feared, Miz Kathleen,” she said as tears filled her eyes, “I’m mighty feared dey wuz fixin’ ter take her out to da big oak.”

Emma gasped. “Da big oak!” she whispered.

Katie glanced around and saw Emma’s eyes as big as plates and filled with terror.

“What is it?” said Katie.

“Come wiff me, Miz Katie. We gotter git outer here!”

“If Mayme’s at something called the big oak, then that’s where we’re going too. Do you know where it is, Emma?”

“Yes’m, but—”

“Emma!” said Katie. “Remember—we came here to help Mayme.”

“If dey’ve taken her to the big oak, chil’,” said Josepha, breaking into tears, “dere ain’t nuthin’ you can do fer poor Mayme now.”

Suddenly light flooded the stairway up to the house behind where Josepha stood.

“Josepha, what’s taking you so long? Get back up here!”

Katie and Emma crouched down out of sight, hoping no sound of feet on the stairs would follow the mistress’s voice.

“Yes’m,” said Josepha. She wiped quickly at her eyes, then turned and trudged back up the stairs, moving as slowly as she could, it seemed, to give the two girls time to make their escape.

Katie and Emma crept out of the cellar and dashed back across the yard. They reached the safety of the chicken house and then continued straight on past it, over the wooden fence, and to the safety of the trees. There stood Jeremiah watching for them, crouching low behind a tree, holding one of the rifles.

“What are you doing with that!” exclaimed Katie softly as she ran past him.

“Listenin’ t’ you talk about how dangerous dese people is, I figured I’d best be ready ter shoot if dey was comin’ after you an’ tryin’ ter hurt da two er you.”

“Nobody saw us … come on!”

Two minutes later they were back in their saddles, and Emma was leading the way as best she could remember to the fateful tree.

T
HE
B
IG
O
AK
41

I
T TOOK THEM TEN OR TWELVE MINUTES TO
reach the place.

The big oak stood in a clearing in the middle of a large field of pastureland. The nearest shelter where they could stay out of sight was two hundred or more feet away.

“Dere it is—dat’s da big oak!” whispered Emma.

Katie could feel the fear in her voice.

“An’ see—dere’s six or eight men on horses all dere together! Oh, Miz Katie, I’m mighty feared ’bout what dey’s doin’, an’ I’m feared we be too late!”

BOOK: A Day to Pick Your Own Cotton
6.01Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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