Miss Katie's Rosewood (12 page)

A
s for me, I had no idea at the time of all the emotions Katie was going through from reading Rob Paxton's letter about everything that had happened to him. I knew that she had a long letter from Rob, but I had no idea what was in it. When Katie let me read it later, I was as moved as she had been. What an incredible story. But at the time I knew nothing of it because I had troubles of my own!

The conductor had been rude and brusque to me as he took me away from Katie. He grabbed my arm and pulled me along the aisle and through several more half-empty cars of white people to the last car on the train—the colored car. He opened the door and shoved me inside, then slammed the door behind me
.

The car was crowded with twice as many blacks as there were seats. It was hot and stuffy and already smelled pretty bad. None of the windows opened
.

Fifty or more black faces turned to look at me as the conductor stuffed me through the door. None of them wore welcoming looks. One more person meant less space and less air for the rest
.

“Who dat, Mama?” said a little boy a few feet away, pointing at me
.

“I don' know, son, jes' somebody dat wuz sittin' where she wuzn't s'posed to, I reckon.”

“Why she do dat, Mama?”

“I don' know—maybe she thought she wuz better'n da rest ob us.”

I wanted to shrink out of sight! I smiled sheepishly and gradually most of the faces turned away. I squeezed my carpetbag down on the floor between my feet and tried to look out the window as I stood there
.

The fun train ride Katie and I had looked forward to didn't look like it was going to happen. Now the hours dragged slowly by. It was so stuffy and hot in that car crammed so tight and full of us blacks. My back hurt from standing, though I wasn't the only one. Some people were talking, some were just looking out the windows. The few children in the car were chattering away like children do and I was reminded of Emma's William, the poor dear boy. But after the reception I'd received when the conductor pushed me in, I wasn't particularly anxious to talk to anybody. Listening to those around me, I knew I would sound different and I was afraid they'd make fun of me or something because I was more tan than black and I was dressed nice and didn't talk like most former slaves. So I kept my mouth shut and kept to myself
.

The train stopped in Raleigh. Everyone got out for water and necessaries. I hoped to see Katie, but the conductor and a couple of his men herded us behind the train by ourselves where there was a little woods and a stream for us to use. The outhouses at the station were only for whites
.

As we returned to the train I saw Katie approaching along the platform. We hurried toward each other
.

“Oh, Mayme, I'm so sorry about this!” she said, giving me a hug. “It's just terrible.”

“It's all right . . . not so bad, really.—A little crowded!” I added with a laugh
.

“It makes me so mad! I've spoken with every person who works for the train company and every one of them is rude to me. They treat me like I'm—”

She stopped and her face got red
.

“I'm sorry, Mayme,” she said. “I didn't mean that. Well, I meant it, but I didn't mean it like it sounded . . . you know what I mean!”

“I know what you mean, Katie.” I smiled. “It's all right. They do treat blacks different.”

“What was the war all about and what Mr. Lincoln did?” she went on. “They have no idea what being free means. If Rob were here, he'd do something!”

“Did you finish his letter?” I asked
.

“Yes . . . oh, Mayme—”

Katie's eyes filled with tears
.

“What is it?” I asked
.

“It's the most amazing story. Poor Rob—what he has been through. He said you could read it if you want to.”

“Do you think I should . . . I mean, he wrote it to you. Do you want me to?”

“Yes, I think so. In fact, I think Rob would like you to.”

“If you want me to, I'd like to,” I said. “Maybe when we get to Aunt Nelda's.”

“He reminds me of Micah Duff,” said Katie
.

“In what way?”

“I don't know . . . in how his life with God and his faith is so personal. He prays about everything. Most men aren't like that!”

“Did he . . . say anything . . . you know—about you and him?” I asked
.

Katie smiled
.

“Not too much,” she answered, “only that he hopes we can see each other when we are in Philadelphia. He'll be less than a hundred miles away.”

“Are you going to?”

“I hope so,” said Katie. “I would like to see him, of course. I thought I knew him before, even though it's just from our letters. But after reading his letter I realize there was so much I didn't know about him.”

“Hey, what's going on there!” a voice yelled at us
.

“—You . . . you colored girl—get back where you belong!”

Now Katie's eyes really flashed with a fire I'd hardly ever seen in her before
.

She spun around to see the conductor walking toward us
.

“She is where she belongs,” said Katie, and it was obvious she was upset. “I came here to talk to her. She hasn't moved an inch. She has every right—”

“Look, little lady,” interrupted the man. Now he was mad too. “I've just about had all the tongue from you I intend to take!”

He grabbed Katie by the wrist and yanked her along the platform
.

She cried out in pain
.

“Ow . . . ow, that hurts . . . stop it!”

I was so furious I wanted to run after him and kick him or something. But I knew that anything I tried to do would only make it worse for both of us
.

Paying no attention to her, the man pulled Katie after him back toward the front of the train
.

“If I see the two of you so much as looking at each other again,” he said as they went, “I will throw you both off the train. Even if it's in the middle of nowhere. You don't want that, little lady—there's bands of kidnappers
roaming these parts, snatching up the coloreds who are traveling north and selling them overseas. No, sir, you don't want to be left behind. They would get a handsome price for a pretty white girl like you and that nigger friend of yours. So you just keep to yourself!”

I returned to the colored car with the rest of the blacks. Poor Katie, I thought. This was going to be harder on her than me
.

The rest of the day was all right, though I got awfully tired standing there staring out the window. We stopped another time or two but I didn't dare look for Katie
.

We stopped overnight in Richmond. When we pulled into the station and got out, I went inside with a group of the other blacks. I didn't want to be anywhere near Katie where the conductor might see us and get after us! We saw each other from a distance and went outside to the street before greeting each other
.

“I'm glad that ride is over!” exclaimed Katie
.

“Me too!” I said. “That car was so stuffy . . . and I had to stand the whole way!”

“Oh, Mayme . . . I'm so sorry.”

“Oh, well . . . we're here now.”

There were lots of horse-drawn cabs at the station for people who had just got into the city on the train. We went to one and Katie told the man where we wanted to go. He hesitated, looked at me as if he didn't much like the idea of a colored girl sitting in his buggy, but then just nodded and said, “All right, then . . . get in.”

Katie and I laughed and giggled and talked all the way to the hotel, making up for the whole day we had been apart. We had been planning the trip for long enough that we'd had time to write to several hotels and find one that would let a white girl and black girl
stay together. Since we had made our arrangements ahead of time, that was one thing we didn't have to worry about. But my papa and Uncle Ward had been very stern about not wanting us to leave our hotel room after dark. We arrived in Richmond a few minutes before four o'clock in the afternoon and got to the hotel and had our room key by four. Then we went out and walked around the city for an hour—they'd said we could do that—and then went back to the hotel
.

We also needed to send a telegram back home, care of Mrs. Hammond, telling Papa and Uncle Ward that we were safe in Richmond. That was another thing they told us to do so they wouldn't worry. They had planned to return to Greens Crossing from Charlotte and wait in town until the telegram came. But they said not to telegraph them until we were safely in the hotel for the evening
.

We went to the man at the desk and Katie told him we wanted to send a telegram. He said he would take care of it. Then Katie wrote down the message:

A
RRIVED SAFELY IN
R
ICHMOND
. T
HE HOTEL IS NICE
. W
E'LL BE IN OUR ROOM ALL EVENING
. W
E LOVE YOU
. K
ATIE AND
M
AYME
.

Then we went upstairs and locked ourselves in our room. We had brought enough food with us for the day on the train and supper in the hotel that evening, and it was as good as a feast. We laughed and talked and read all evening. Being in a big city in a hotel together—even if we were in our room—was an adventure and we were so excited we couldn't even think about going to sleep
.

But our train through Washington and on to Philadelphia left at nine-thirty the next morning, so we had to get some sleep so we would be able to get up and to the station in time for the second day of our journey
.

W
e got to the station the next morning in plenty of time. We hoped that maybe we would be able to sit together. But as we left the station and walked out across the platform to the train, there was the same conductor helping people into the first several cars—white people, that is
.

We had hoped never to see him again!

He glanced up and saw us from a distance, so we knew there wasn't even a chance of trying to get on together. So we said good-bye again
.

“Please don't worry about me, Katie,” I said. “I'll try to find a seat this time. Promise me you will try to enjoy yourself.”

“Only if you do too,” said Katie
.

“All right, I promise!” I said. “However crowded it is . . . I will enjoy myself!”

“Good. Then I'll see you in Philadelphia!”

We parted, Katie to the front of the train, and me again back in the direction of the last car
.

Since I was earlier than before, I found a seat. But then people kept coming and coming and pretty soon the car was full again and men had to stand in the
aisles. An old black woman sat down on the seat beside me and smiled. By the time the train left the station, the car was as jammed as before. I recognized about half of them from the day before, but there were lots of new passengers too
.

Just before I boarded, two mean-looking men came walking along the platform. They were looking at the train, especially where all the cars connected. One was white and one black, but the conductor didn't say anything to them about talking together! I thought at first that they must be train workers or mechanics or something from the way they were looking around underneath the train. But when it came time to go, they got on the train with everybody else
.

We'd been on our way again about an hour when the mean-looking black man came into our car and found a place to stand. He had no luggage and spoke to no one. But it got a little quieter right after he came in. He didn't have a very nice look
.

After about another hour he turned around and left the car again. I didn't know why he was free to come and go when none of the rest of us were. But I wasn't about to ask!