Miss Katie's Rosewood (30 page)
Read Miss Katie's Rosewood Online
Authors: Michael Phillips
Tags: #FIC042030, #FIC042000, #FIC026000
As the conversation on the front porch broke up and everyone went back to what they had been doing and Mayme walked out into the fields alone, the two brothers rose and wandered away from the house together.
“What do you think, brother Ward, shall we go check on that field we're going to start tomorrow?”
“Sure,” said Ward, following his brother down the steps of the porch.
As Ward and Templeton continued toward the fields, neither spoke for several minutes. Both were absorbed in new and unexpected reflections.
“That Paxton's quite a kid,” said Ward at length.
“He'll be a good husband for Kathleen.”
Ward nodded, still thinking.
“A mite religious,” he said.
“He's a preacher's kid,” Templeton said, nodding.
“Yeah, but I've got the feeling there's more to it than that. I agree with what Mayme saidâI never heard a preacher say those kinds of things.”
“How many preachers have you heard in your life, brother
Ward?” chided Templeton with a good-natured grin.
“Maybe not as many as I should have! But I've heard my share.”
Templeton chuckled but quickly grew serious.
“I think I know what you meanâI've never heard the kinds of things young Paxton said either. Pretty remarkable when you stop to think about it.”
“Even Mama, as religious as she was, never said those kinds of things. I mean, she was a good woman and all. She taught us to treat folks with respect. But I never heard her talk about asking God what He wanted you to do.”
He paused.
“Tell me, Templeton,” said Ward, “you ever ask God what He wanted you to do?”
“Can't say that I have, at least not in so many words.”
“Me neither. I always did what I wanted to do. I think I usually tried to do what I thought was right. But I never thought about what God might have to say about it. That's a different way of looking at things.”
“A lot different than I been used to looking at things too.”
Ward began to chuckle.
“What are you thinking?” asked Templeton.
“I was just thinking about Mama,” replied Ward. “She'd be shocked to hear us talking like this.”
Templeton smiled. “She'd be pleased, though,” he said. “She was a good lady, like you say. I wish I'd paid more attention sooner.”
They continued on in the direction of the river. Both were thoughtful for the rest of the day.
And all over Rosewood, spiritual seeds were sprouting and sending down roots in different directions, which would, in their own time, produce their manifold and varied fruit.
The harvest continued, though without Rob for the next several days. He accompanied us to the fields but couldn't lift his hurt shoulder enough to grasp the cotton with both hands. He remained sore for some time, but was back picking with the rest of us by week's end
.
Tedious though picking cotton was, there was something special about all of us working hard together. There was laughter and talk and it felt good to be working hard for something so important. Occasionally, Josepha and Henry would lead out in singing a spiritual and the rest of us would join in, reminding us of the long history of what we were doing
.
Strange as it is to say it, I think Rob enjoyed it most of all, being such a part of what had held Rosewood together for so long, and part of what had been such a part of the life of those of us who were black. Though Maryland had been a slave state, people that far north really didn't have much of an idea what Southern plantation life was like
.
When he and Katie walked off hand in hand at day's end, sweating and hot and tired, I know they felt closer because of the bond of shared work. In the same way that Rob's words about being actively involved with God had gotten into the rest of us and were, I suppose you'd say, growing in our hearts and minds, Rosewood and its hard work were getting into Rob and growing new things inside him too
.
A couple weeks later, Henry secretly told Katie and me that Josepha's birthday was coming up and that he had something special for her
.
“She'll be suspicious,” he said, “ef we tell her somebody else is fixin' supper, so we's jes' let her go on as usual. But it'd be right fine ef you two could bake a
cake or sumfin'. I's try ter keep her out ob da kitchen fo da mornin'.”
“We'll be happy to, Henry,” said Katie. “That will be fun!”
Josepha did get suspicious when Henry wouldn't let her come up to the big house for lunch. When she did come about three o'clock, she sniffed around and I know she smelled something, even though the cake had been out of the oven and hiding as it cooled in Jeremiah's cabin for three hours
.
But I think she was still surprised when out came the cake with candles on it, followed by gifts from all of us. We'd never known her birthday before and she was surprised that Henry told us
.
Henry saved his two gifts for last. They were two packages about the same size, wrapped in colorful fancy paper and tied with ribbon. When Josepha picked up the first of the two, she almost dropped it because it was so heavy
.
“What dis be!” she exclaimed, holding it tightly as she carefully tried to peel off the paper without tearing it. Then she pulled out the most beautiful book I had ever seen, bound in leather and engraved on the side
.
“Why it's da Pilgrim's Progress!” said Josepha. “Dat's da handsomest book I eber seen. I been wantin' dis book my whole life.”
“I had Miz Hammond order da nicest one she cud,” said Henry. “Dat's what I wuz speakin' wiff her about dat day she wuz here an' you got a little riled at me.”
“I wuz jes' curious, dat's all!”
Henry chuckled
.
“Open the other one, Josepha,” I said
.
Josepha set the book down on the table as tenderly as if it were a baby, then picked up the second package
.
“It be jes' as heavyâit be anuder book?”
“Jes' open it an' fin' out,” said Henry
.
Again Josepha carefully peeled the paper back. She gasped in surprise. “It's a Bible! Oh, Henry . . . da mos' beautiful Bible I eber seen!”
She leaned over and gave him a kiss
.
“I ain't neber had anythin' so nice as dese!”
Josepha asked if we could read The Pilgrim's Progress together in the evenings after supper, out of her very own book. Of course we all agreed. We started that same night
.
S
AM
J
ENKINS
48
S
heriff Sam Jenkins was the last person anyone at Rosewood expected to see riding toward them. The only thing they could be certain of was that it wasn't a social call
.
He rode straight into the field, knocking over cotton stalks and trampling good cotton to the ground. He rode straight to where Papa and Uncle Ward were working with Aunt Nelda
.
“Well, this is a touching sight,” he said, looking around. “Futile but touching. Why don't you boys just give up on all this? You'll never win in the end.”
“Don't bet against us, Sam,” said Papa
.
“Suit yourself. But you're wasting your time.”
“What can we help you with, Sam? You didn't come out to inspect our harvest.”
“You're right. I didn't. I'm looking for someone. I got a feeling he's here with you.”
He glanced around the field again where the rest of us were spread out over about a hundred yards.
“Tall, white kid . . . friend of Henry's nigger boy . . . caused some trouble in town. AhâI think I see him over there.”
“Rob!” called Papa. “You want to come over here a minute?”
As Rob walked across the field toward them everyone else followed till we were all standing around the sheriff, who was still sitting on his horse
.
“Rob, this is Sheriff Jenkins. He's here about that trouble you and Jeremiah had in town yesterday.âSam, this is Rob Paxton.”
The sheriff looked him over, and slowly a smile spread over his lips
.
“Judging from that shiner on your forehead and that bruise under your ear, not to mention the way your left arm is hanging like it might hurt a little, I take it you were involved.”
“I was there,” said Rob
.
“I've had a complaint filed against you, son,” said the sheriff, “for assault.”
I heard a gasp of shock and glanced over at Katie. Her eyes were on fire!
“The report was filed by Deke Steeves,” said Mr. Jenkins. “Do you know anything about it?”
“Yes, I was involved in a little fracas with him.”
“So you admit that the charge is true?”
“I did not say that, sir,” said Rob calmly. “Actually, the charge is a lie.”
“Are you accusing Deke Steeves of filing a false report? That is against the law.”
“I am well aware of that, Mr. Jenkins. To answer your questionâI accuse no one of anything. Without knowing how you came by your information, I am simply telling you that it is untrue.”
“Says you.” Jenkins smiled
.
“Yes, sir,” said Rob, if anything, even more calmly than before
.
“And who is to say you aren't lying?”
“I make it my practice never to lie, sir. If I had assaulted Mr. Steeves, I would be the first to admit it.”
“You seem to be very sure of yourself, Mr.âwhat is it . . . Paxton.”
“Yes, sir.”
“So what do you suggest I do, Paxton? I've got a warrant in my pocket for your arrest, and yet you say that Deke Steeves is a liar?”
“You've heard everything I said, and at no time did I call anyone a liar. I have only asserted that the report, as you have it, is not true.”
“Have it your way,” said Jenkins
.
“But to answer your question about what I would suggest, I would say that you should be very sure of your facts before making an arrest, sir,” answered Rob. “It is the essential first rule for an officer of the law. You might also consider secondary witnesses.”
“I suppose you mean this nigger here,” said the sheriff, nodding in Jeremiah's direction
.
I knew my eyes were flashing then!
Rob winced at the deprecation
.
“His race is hardly a factor, Mr. Jenkins,” he said. “He did hear and see everything that passed between Mr. Steeves and myself. I would think some kind of corroboration would be useful in helping you avoid the charge of false arrest that could be put forward in such a case if you were to act prematurely and hastily.”
Uncle Ward nodded in Rob's direction. “Paxton here knows something of the law, Jenkins. He is a sheriff's deputy up north.”
“It is only a suggestion, sir,” Rob continued. “I have no authority here, I realize. But if you do indeed have a warrant for my arrest and are determined to enforce it here and now, I will go peaceably.”
Jenkins glanced about, slowly beginning to realize
that he was being made to look like a fool in front of all these idiots he hated . . . and by someone he didn't even know!
“You haven't heard the last of this, Paxton!” he said, spitting out Rob's name like venom
.
Then he turned his horse around and galloped off across an unpicked portion of the field
.
“Rob!” exclaimed Katie. “What would you have done if he'd arrested you!”
Rob laughed. “I would have told you to wire John Heyes in Hanover, Pennsylvania. Once John heard I was locked up, I have the feeling your Sheriff Jenkins would quickly realize he had started far more trouble for himself than he had bargained for. John would be here within forty-eight hours, and it would not go well for the good Mr. Jenkins when they met.”
Of all of us, Rob was the least shaken by the event as we returned to work. But he didn't know these people like we did
.