A Perilous Proposal

by Michael Phillips

  “Uh, no . . . but thank you,” said Katie. Then without waiting for anything further, she closed the door.

  Slowly he came back down the three or four steps to where I was standing.

  “Well . . . reckon I’ll be headin’ back t’ town,” he said slowly. “You, uh . . . you min’ if I come out agin?”

  “I don’t think Miss Katie, I mean Miss Clairborne—” I started to say.

  “No, Miz Mayme . . . I mean, does you min’ if I comes fer a visit?”

  “What would you want to visit for?”

  “I thought maybe I’d come t’ visit you, dat’s all. An’ my pa, he said dat if I asked ’bout Mistress Clairborne an’ got no answer ’bout where she was an’ din’t see her wiff my own eyes—dat he wanted me ter make sure you young ladies wuz all right.”

  “What did he mean by that?” I said.

  “Nuthin’, miss . . . just what I said. Dat’s why he wanted me ter come out an’ men’ dat bridle, ’cuz he wanted ter know if you an’ Miz Clairborne wuz all right.”

  “Well, you can tell him we’re fine,” I said. “And that he ought to mind his own business too.”

  I shouldn’t have said it. Jeremiah looked at me funny. Then he shrugged and turned and started walking along the road back toward town. I watched him a minute, then suddenly ran after him.

  “Jeremiah!” I called out.

  He stopped and turned back toward me.

  “Please . . . don’t tell,” I said.

  “Tell what?” he asked.

  “What you saw here—who you saw in the kitchen . . . what you said before about only seeing us girls.”

  He looked at me seriously, and it was the first time we’d both looked in each other’s eyes.

  “What you really want me not ter say,” he said after a few seconds, “is what I ain’t seen, an’ dat’s Mistress Clairborne—ain’t dat right, Miz Mayme?”

  “Please,” I said without really answering him, “you can’t tell. Please promise you won’t tell anyone.”

  “Dat’s a hard one, Miz Mayme,” said Jeremiah finally. “Reckon I’ll have ter think on dat some on my way home.”

  That was the first day Jeremiah and I talked alone together. That part of his coming out had been nice. But suddenly, without us planning it, someone knew that something fishy was going on at Rosewood—and that someone was Jeremiah Patterson! I knew if he thought long enough about what he’d seen, he’d start figuring out Katie’s scheme.

  TO THE RESCUE

  32

  JEREMIAH DIDN’T SEE MAYME OR KATIE AGAIN FOR A while. He was busy working in town, and Rosewood was a long way from Greens Crossing.

  But then one day, when Jeremiah was helping his father in the livery, he heard a galloping horse approaching. He didn’t think much of it until he heard Katie’s voice out front.

  “Where’s Jeremiah?” she called, clearly in a panic.

  “Back dere cleanin’ out da livery,” began Henry. “But what’s you—”

  Before he finished his sentence, Katie ran past him through the doorway.

  “Jeremiah . . . Jeremiah!” she called in 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 stepped forward.

  “Some men have got Mayme,” said Katie frantically. “White men . . . and I’m afraid. Can you help us?”

  “Jest lead da way, Miz Clairborne.”

  Katie turned and ran back outside as Jeremiah hurried to catch up.

  “I ain’ got no horse er my own,” he said.

  “You can ride with me!” said Katie. She ran to her horse and jumped onto its back. “Climb up and sit behind the saddle.”

  Less than a minute later, Katie was flapping the reins and galloping through town, leaving Henry watching them go, along with townspeople no doubt shocked to see a white girl and colored boy on the same horse.

  Jeremiah caught a glimpse of the storekeeper, Mrs. Hammond, as they flew past her store, a disapproving scowl on her face. He didn’t doubt news of this ride would reach the ears of the white boys in town. But he couldn’t worry about that now.

  “I’m going to say the same thing to you,” said Katie, glancing behind her as they slowed a few minutes later and turned the horse off the road, “that Mayme told me she 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. But I hope you’ll keep quiet.”

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

  A pretty black girl was crouching near the side of the road. “Who dat!” she called out as they approached, clearly frantic.

  “Never mind who it is,” said Katie. “He’s the boy who came out to the house. He’s going to help us.—Jeremiah,” she said, turning back to him, “would you ride behind Emma on the other horse?”

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

  “These are mean people, Jeremiah,” she said. “If they see too many 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 Emma, they’re likely to kill her. So we’ve got to stay out of sight.”

  “What dey want wiff Miz Mayme?” Jeremiah asked.

  “Mayme used to be a slave here. I’m guessing they think she knows where Emma is and are trying to get her to tell them.”

  “An’ if I know what she’s doin’ right now,” Emma began tearfully, “it’s dat she’s not tellin ’em where I’s at. She’s in danger on account er me.” She began wailing.

  “Shush, Emma,” said Katie sternly. “Now, Jeremiah, I don’t want you to be in danger either. 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?” asked Jeremiah.

  “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 can git in da house, Miz Katie,” 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 dun things I shouldn’t hab dun.”

  “We won’t worry about that now,” said Katie.

  Ten minutes later Katie and Emma had managed to sneak into the McSimmons house through the cellar and were asking Josepha if she’d heard anything about Mayme.

  “I’m feared, Miz Kathleen,” said Josepha, tears filling her eyes, “I’m mighty feared dey was fixin’ ter take her out to da big oak.”

  Emma gasped. “Da big oak!” Her eyes filled with terror.

  “What is it?” said Katie.

  “Come wiff me, Miz Katie,” said Emma without answering the question. “We gotter git outer here!”

  “If Mayme’s in trouble, then we’re going to help her. Do you know where the oak is, Emma?”

  “Yes’m, but—”

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

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

  Katie and Emma left the cellar of the house as they had come, and ran back to where Jeremiah was crouching behind a tree, holding one of the rifles Katie had brought along.

  “What are you doing with that!” exclaimed Katie.

  “Listenin’ ter you talk about how dangerous dese people is, I figured I’d best be ready ter sh
oot if dey was comin’ after 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.

  It took them ten or twelve minutes to reach the place.

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

  They dismounted and tied up their horses and crept to the edge of the trees.

  “No—look, there’s Mayme in the middle of them,” said Katie. “We’re not too late. She’s on one of the horses and—”

  Suddenly Katie gasped in horror.

  “She’s blindfolded . . . and they’ve got a rope around her neck!” she exclaimed. “It’s tied over that limb up above!”

  “Dat’s what I feared, Miz Katie! Dat’s what I been tellin you.”

  “Dey’s fixin’ ter string her up, all right,” whispered Jeremiah. “I heard ’bout dis eber since da war. I almost got in some trouble like it mysel’ wiff some white men dat’d been drinkin’.”

  “Oh, Miz Katie—Mayme’s so good,” Emma was babbling. “She be gwine git herself strung up fer me.”

  “Shush, Emma! We’re not going to let them kill Mayme.”

  “No, we ain’t,” added Jeremiah, anger rising in his voice. “I’m goin’ t’ git one ob dose guns!”

  “Just a minute, Jeremiah!” said Katie. “We’ve got to think first.—I wonder why some of them are wearing white hoods over their heads.”

  “I heard ob it,” said Jeremiah. “Some kind er white man’s religious thing.”

  “What should we do, Jeremiah?” asked Katie.

  “I don’t reckon I kin shoot ’em all,” he said. “Dere’s too many. To tell you da truf, I neber shot a gun like dis in my life, an’ I don’ know if I could kill a man—”

  When his memory caught up with his words, a chill went through him even as he added, “—eben effen he’s white.”

  “We don’t have to kill anybody,” said Katie. “We can just try to make them think we are. It’s a trick Mayme showed me.—Let’s get the guns.”

  They ran to the horses and pulled out the rifles.

  Quickly Katie explained as she and Jeremiah each took a handful of shells. Then they split up.

  A minute later, from where she was hiding in the trees, Katie fired a shot over the heads of the men.

  She’d forgotten what a kick the gun had. It knocked her backward and she nearly lost her balance. Emma cried out from the sound as Katie steadied herself and fired again. Then came the sound of Jeremiah’s first shot.

  As the echo died away, Katie fired again, then a few seconds later heard three or four more shots in rapid succession come from Jeremiah’s gun.

  Surprised and confused, the men yelled and swore as they looked about.

  Katie fired again. A loud curse sounded. She’d accidentally hit William McSimmons in the leg!

  “Let’s get out of here!” he cried. “She’s practically dead now anyway—we’ll let the tree finish the job!”

  He gave the horse Mayme was sitting on a great swat with his whip. The horse lurched forward and ran straight out from under Mayme as McSimmons galloped away after the others.

  Katie’s first thought was elation. Then she saw Mayme dangling from the tree with the rope tight around her neck!

  “Mayme!” she screamed. She dropped the rifle on the ground and ran toward the tree.

  Jeremiah came out of the woods and ran after her.

  “Jeremiah!” cried Katie. “Go back and bring the horses! Hurry, Jeremiah!”

  “Mayme . . . Mayme!” called Katie, tears filling her eyes. “Mayme, we’re here now—we’re going to help you.”

  But when she reached the tree, she realized there was nothing she could do. Mayme’s hands were tied behind her back and the rope was pressing so hard against her windpipe that she couldn’t make a sound.

  “Mayme . . . Mayme . . . oh, Mayme—God, help me!” Katie cried frantically, grabbing her friend’s feet where they dangled up in the air almost as high as her shoulders. She tried to lift Mayme’s legs to take the pressure off her neck. But Mayme was so close to unconsciousness that she was just hanging limp.

  By then Jeremiah was racing toward them on one of the horses, followed by Emma pulling the second by the reins.

  Jeremiah reined in and walked the horse forward to get it under Mayme. At the same time he was fumbling with his hands trying to grab hold of her.

  “Mayme . . . Mayme, sit up on the horse!” cried Katie from the ground.

  While Jeremiah tried to steady the horse, Katie tried to push Mayme’s legs over its back. But in the confusion the horse kept moving about and Jeremiah couldn’t get it to stay still. All the while Mayme was hanging there like dead weight with her neck stretching further and further.

  “Emma,” cried Katie, “the knife! Get the knife. It’s in the saddlebag. Climb up the tree and cut the rope!”

  A minute later Emma was scurrying up the trunk with the help of a few low limbs while Katie kept lifting Mayme’s legs and Jeremiah was trying to hold her up around the waist to take the weight off her neck.

  “Be careful, Emma,” cried Katie. “Don’t fall—but hurry!”

  Ten or fifteen seconds later the rope gave way from Emma’s knife. Mayme dropped into Jeremiah’s arms. But the sudden weight of her body made him lose his balance and they both fell into a heap on the ground. Frantically Katie struggled to loosen the noose around her neck.

  “Mayme . . . oh, Mayme!” said Katie, smothering her friend’s face with kisses. “Please God . . . oh, Mayme, don’t be dead!”

  Slowly Mayme’s eyelids fluttered open and Katie went wild with joy.

  “Oh, Mayme!” she cried.

  Mayme opened her eyes a little wider and tried to force a feeble smile to her lips. Emma and Katie began crying, but Mayme didn’t seem to have the strength to cry. She just lay there. She glanced over to where Jeremiah knelt behind the girls. He smiled at her and she tried to smile back.

  “Dose men be boun’ ter come back before long,” said Jeremiah. “If dey fin’ dat we spoiled dere lynchin’, dey’s like ter string up all three ob us.”

  “You’re right,” said Katie, “we’ve got to get out of here.”

  They got Mayme to her feet. Jeremiah lifted her onto one of the horses. She winced as he did so, biting her lip to keep from crying out. He tried his best to be gentle. He knew she was hurting from the cuts and bruises. He wondered if she had broken bones too.

  “Jeremiah,” said Katie. “You’re stronger than me. You ride with Mayme and keep her in the saddle.”

  He climbed up behind Mayme, putting his arms around her to grab on to the saddle horn. But it was all he could do to keep Mayme in the saddle, limp and exhausted as she was.

  Katie mounted the other horse, pulled Emma up behind her, and the horses galloped away. After riding about twenty minutes, Mayme began to slump and collapse in Jeremiah’s arms. Realizing she needed a rest, he slowed and he and Katie began looking for a place they could stop for water.

  When Katie and Jeremiah helped Mayme down off the horse she nearly collapsed at the river’s edge.

  “Water . . .” she tried to say, “. . . thirsty.”

  Katie ran to the river, took off her bonnet, scooped it full of water, and hurried back to Mayme. She helped her sit up and held the water to her lips before most of it soaked through the cloth to the ground. But Mayme managed two or three swallows.

  Katie went back and after a few minutes had managed to get some water into Mayme’s stomach and to wash her face.

  Mayme smiled faintly. “Thank you,” she whispered.

  “Oh, Mayme,” Katie said, “it breaks my heart to see you so weak!”

  She embraced her. Mayme stretched her arms around Katie and they held each other for the longest time. Mayme reached towa
rd Emma and the girl came forward and embraced Mayme too. Jeremiah saw Mayme cringe as Emma threw her arms around her back. Then Mayme smiled at Jeremiah again, likely too worn out to wonder what he was doing there with the others.

  “I feel better now,” Mayme said. “I’ve hardly had anything to eat or drink in two days. I was just feeling faint.”

  “Then let’s get you home,” said Katie.

  When at last the white buildings of Rosewood appeared in the distance, Jeremiah heard Mayme sigh with happiness. He followed her gaze as Mayme looked over at Katie. Katie’s eyes were wet with tears.

  “Welcome home, Mayme,” she said.

  Jeremiah got down and carried Mayme toward the house. Katie led the way inside and up the stairs. A minute or two later Mayme was lying on the bed while everyone scurried about fetching water for the tub and talking about getting some food and liquid inside her.

  Jeremiah stood in the kitchen, watching all the commotion. It was plain that Katie’s mother wasn’t anywhere around, and that there wasn’t sign of any other grown-up either. Katie was clearly mistress of the place.

  Katie walked over to Jeremiah and led him outside.

  “I don’t know how to thank you, Jeremiah,” said Katie. “I couldn’t have done it without you.”

  “I’m jest glad Miz Mayme’s safe,” he said, “an’ dat I could help.”

  “Please . . .” began Katie after a few seconds, “you won’t tell . . . will you? Someday . . . maybe we can explain what is going on here. But for now, nobody can know.”

  He stood looking at the serious expression on Katie’s face.

  “I reckon I can do dat, Miz Clairborne,” said Jeremiah slowly. “’Tis mighty strange, I gotter say, seein’ coloreds an’ whites livin’ in a big house like dat t’gether. But I reckon I can keep my mouf shut fer a spell. But ya’ll tell me someday, I hope, ’cause you got me mighty curious.”

  “I will try to,” said Katie with a relieved smile. “Thank you, Jeremiah.—Do you mind walking back to town? I’d let you take one of the horses, or ride you in myself, but . . .”

  “Don’ mention it, Miz Clairborne,” said Jeremiah. “Dat’ll give my pa an’ dose other folks in town dat was watchin’ us a chance ter settle down an’ ferget what dey seen. I’ll jest sneak in a roun’bout way so no one sees me.”