by Caryl McAdoo
Could she love one of her own any more?
Ah ha, another question for Flynn. Was he planning on strapping her babies or using his hand?
She hated it when her father punished Aaron with the strap, but the boy was wild enough with the lickings. No telling what he'd be like without a good whipping now and again. She hated the strap though.
Uncle Laud used a switch on Rich. That seemed much better to her. They stung, but never bruised.
“Lesha, you awake?” Arlene's whisper drifted on the bit of breeze circulating through the loft.
“Yes.”
Soft footfalls sounded, then her sister climbed into her bed. “Uncle Reagan says we have to stay with the wagon and can't go into town on account we’d be by ourselves. Could you go with us? It isn’t fair Aaron and Rich got to go to the Mercantile, and we don’t.”
“Pa wouldn't let me, you know that. Plus, as much as I hate picking cotton, I need all the cash I can lay my hands on. Flynn asked Ma to ask me what I thought about us buying our own wagon, and I think it’s a great idea.”
“You're so mean! Who wants to ride on the stupid wagon all day and not get to go to town?”
“Think on the good of it. You don't have to pick cotton tomorrow. You get the whole day off.”
Snorting displeasure, her sister kissed Alicia's cheek then hauled herself back to her own bed. Such a little contradiction, calling her names but kissing her cheek. Alicia had to smile.
The girl also had a persuasive streak about a mile wide though. No doubt she and Charity Grace would wrangle a trip to the store.
The next day, seemed everyone had upped the pace. Was it the price increase or finally getting warmed up to the chore, or having Flynn back? He always stayed eight or ten feet ahead of the rest.
Who could know? Her mother and Aunt Liberty still kept pretty even without the girls working in front of them.
Had they been shirking when the eleven-year-olds picked the low bolls in front of them?
Lord knew, the little boys barely got their weight every day, but then taking a long nap after dinner cut into their work time.
As she figured, her sister and Charity Grace came rolling in with goods aplenty. Aaron's scheme of sharing with Arlene paid off handsomely. He got twice or better the candy he gave her.
When Flynn's father didn't offer, her sweetheart came right out and asked, mincing no words. “How'd we do?”
“Twenty-two hundred and fifteen pounds.”
“Not too bad. We knew the load was light. What'd the seed weigh?”
“Twelve eighty-four. Worst part is that the price dropped to ten-point-seventy-five cents. Whole day came to ninety-five dollars after Jenkins got his cut.”
“Thank you, Lord, anyway.”
A hearty round of amens sounded. What could a body do but praise the Lord?
Next morning, like he couldn't wait to drive the mules ten miles to town and back, he whispered her awake. Seemed she'd only closed her eyes about five minutes ago. She could not wait to get out from his roof and never be woken up early again. Him waking before the chickens should not adversely affect her.
“Shake a leg, girl. Enough moonlight for us to get gone.”
Telling herself over and over as she dressed that she could nap on the way, gave her enough energy to drag herself around the room and button her buttons and tie her shoes. She'd get ready, but definitely refused to shake a leg like he wanted.
Arrrgh, she stepped over the sleeping siblings onto the ladder, grabbing her bonnet on the way down.
Mercy. According to the man, he beat the sun by two whole miles or better. So what?
That only meant she could have slept another hour. Even after the tin of coffee, eggs, and fatback her ma fried and packed up for breakfast, Alicia would still have rather been in bed the extra time.
Was he wanting to get back in time to work?
She almost asked but refrained. It wouldn't do putting any ideas in his head if it wasn't what he was thinking, but if that was his plan, didn't figure there was much she could do about it. She wanted free of his schedules and him having such rule over her.
The next creek, he claimed, marked better than halfway. He nodded toward the lint. “Want to get back there and take a nap?”
“Do I ever.” Guess he wasn’t all bad. She bumped her shoulder against his. “I love you, Pa.”
“I know.”
Gathering her dress, she stepped over the seat and eased back onto the cotton. Too soon, her eyes eased open. “Where are we?”
“Getting close.”
“Does the gin have an outhouse?”
“Don't know. Suspect so, but you might not want to bet on it.”
Climbing back over the wagon’s bench seat, she rode the wheel down like she was her sister’s age again. “I'll be right back.”
Not too long after the wheel’s spokes carried her back up. Charlotte came into view. Her father brought the wagon to a stop behind only two others loaded with lint.
“Looks like I've got some time.” He passed the reins over to her.
She wanted to ask about going in but knew better.
“Don't let anyone get in front of us. I'm going to take care of some business then figured I'd put the mules' feedbags on.”
“Yes, sir.”
Not two minutes after he walked toward the back of the gin, a girl about her age or so climbed down from the wagon just in front and strolled toward her. “Hi there. I'm Gabby Harrell.”
Chapter Eight
Alicia eyed the young lady hard, but not a whit of recollection dawned.
“Hey, yourself. I’m Alicia Van Zandt. My pa’s around back, probably jawing.” Was that a lie? No, she said 'probably,' and he was around back. But why did she have to add the jawing part?
Oh well, he could be.
Gabby threw a nod toward her wagon. “That's my father, and the darkie up there holding the lint down, that's Izzy. Her pap and my mother left our world a couple of years back. The fever spread fast and was plenty bad.”
“I'm sorry.”
The girl shrugged. “It happens. Pap and I took sick, but Izzy nursed us back to health.” She ducked her head. “This your first wagon load?”
“Nope. It's the fourth, but it's the first one I came with. Our families have been taking turns, bringing it into Charlotte.”
“Families?”
“Yes, ma’am. We have three. O'Neals, Worleys, and mine. We all went in and planted sixty acres in that nasty cotton. I hate it.”
“Wow. It’s just the three of us. Shame we don’t have any help, but we only planted eight acres, too. Pap figures we can finish tomorrow if we get back in time.”
“We’re not even half done. Still got better than forty acres left to pick. According to Pa, it’s prime.”
Movement caught her attention. “Hey, Pa. Come meet Gabby Harrell.”
He only smiled and nodded. “Nice to meet you.”
“My pap and our darkie are just up ahead. Next wagon.” She smiled at him “You oughta go meet him. Name's Corbin Harrell. The girl watched him walk away a minute then looked back. “Want to go to town with me? Pap said I could if you’d go with me.”
What a great idea!
“Pa!”
He turned.
“Can I go to town with Gabby? Her pa said she could if we went together.”
“Well.” He studied his feet a minute then dug into his pocket and tossed her a silver dollar. “Stay together and don't go anywhere but the Mercantile. Remember you're spending your own money.”
All right! She could hardly believe he said yes! What a boon, meeting her friend! She pocketed the coin, then gave him her best smile. “Yes, sir. Thanks, Pa!” She hopped down.
“You got your own money?”
“Yep. I get paid for picking. Everyone does. Not much, but it adds up.”
“I want to come live with you.” The girl giggled.
Other than a nickel's worth of candy, and a comb for Arlene's
hair, she didn't part with any more of her money. It had come too hard.
The idea of her and Flynn buying a wagon together thrilled her. Oh, if they would only let him marry her in Tennessee before they left, then he could drive her all the way to Texas. What joy to share his company!
“That all you getting? Nothing for yourself?”
“It is. I’m engaged, you see, and we’re wanting to buy our own wagon.” Oh, how she loved saying it aloud! It made it so real.
“Your own wagon!” Wonder laced Gabby’s voice.
“Yes. Flynn—he's my intended—and I are going to Texas for a new start.”
“All the way to Texas? By yourselves?”
“No, no. Everyone’s going, but we’re getting married before we leave. That’s why we’re hoping to get our own wagon and team with our cotton—picking money. Plus, he has savings already.”
“That’s wonderful, Alicia.” Gabby sighed. “I haven’t met a man worth having in my eighteen years.”
“Anyway, the dime I spent shouldn’t make or break the wagon deal. I am very blessed. Flynn is very handsome and loves me so much.” She rolled her eyes and fluttered her lashes a bit. “He’s a Christian, too. About perfect, my dearest is.”
All the way back to the gin, Gabby lived up to her name, but at least asked a question now and again then allowed a body to answer. It made Alicia realize how much she'd enjoy having someone her own age to spend time with.
But then again, she might wear an ear plum out if given half a chance.
Half a stone’s-throw away, she read the bad news on Pa’s face. He pointed at the off-mule’s feed bag. “I think he’s done. Mercy, that animal eats slow.”
Wadding the bag’s bottom, she confirmed it to be sure enough empty. She unstrapped the leather contraption, shook all the missed morsels out into her hand, then tossed the bag to her father and flattened her palm for the mule to get his last bite. “How bad was it?”
“We had over nineteen hundred in seed, and ten point fifty-five cents a pound. Bottom line, we only drew a hundred and twenty-four dollars after Jenkin’s cut.”
“Guess we best thank the Lord anyway.”
Though she got an amen, it didn’t carry much conviction. “That girl’s pa says he’s only got another day or so on his field.”
“That’s what Gabby said.”
“Offered to help us after that.”
Hey, what an idea! It'd be so great to see Gabby again and get to spend some time with her. Alicia turned sideways. “That sounds awesome. What did you tell him?”
“Nothing yet. Said I’d have to talk it over with everyone.”
Was that good or bad news?
Less lint for her to pick, but also less money for the upcoming journey. “What does he want?”
“Cent-and-a-half plus found and a roof. They live the other direction.”
Alicia mulled the offer over but failed to come to any conclusion on her own, and her father didn't offer his opinion. Instead, he passed on a bit of news picked up while she’d been in town. Nothing really worth repeating.
Why he thought she’d be the least bit interested in the coming election between President Van Buren and William Henry Harrison, she had no idea.
Who cared? Wasn’t like she got a vote, and Flynn wouldn’t either.
Ignoring his political rhetoric, she relived telling her new friend about being engaged and speaking right out of her love for her fiancé and his for her. The conversation could have been between two grown women.
But she had arrived at last, she was grown.
Pa droned on about the Whigs and their hero of Tippecanoe opponent.
The mules crossed the last creek before home—except of late, she'd started thinking of faraway and romantic Texas as that elusive place. In her seventeen years, she’d laid her head in so many states, but none thrilled her like the prospect of a life in the new Republic.
Would women get to vote there?
“Reagan and I knew each other before.”
What? She turned in her seat, giving him her attention. When had he changed topics?
“You did?”
“Yes, ma’am. We both liked this inn there in town.”
“You're talking about when you lived in Philadelphia, right?”
“That's right.”
Why had he brought that up? She'd never heard the story before.
“He was a rounder, drank too much, gambled some, and enjoyed wooing the ladies. Uh . . . he knew a lot of them back then.”
Mercy. She stared at her father hardly believing he'd be talking ill of Uncle Reagan. Was that a bit of red on his cheeks? What could have come over him to discuss such a thing with her?
“You know what the Bible says about the sins of the fathers.”
Sins of the fathers . . . something about to the fourth generation? Oh. Then she got it. Pa had been coming around the stump. The whole conversation was all about her and Flynn. Like father, like son, but it wasn't true. “Flynn isn't like that. He loves me, and—”
“Reagan loved Liberty, too.”
“What are you saying?”
He filled his lungs. “That I want you to be careful, baby. I like Flynn well enough, but . . . “
The 'but' echoed, wrapping itself around his tone then ricocheted and stabbed her heart. She didn't like the way his discussion turned. Could his 'but' mean he wasn't going to let them marry before going to Texas?
That’s sure what it seemed like.
“Is this why you wanted me to come with you?”
“It is. Wanted the opportunity to tell you the whys. Figured it would give us the time alone without your brother trying to spy on you.”
She looked away, not sure what to say. If only tears would move him, she'd cry a bucketful. She wanted to be a married woman and start her family with her love. Start living her own life.
The one who stood in her way of that sat right next to her, exercising his paternal pigheadedness. Hate rose from her belly.
Turning back and looking straight ahead, she crossed her arms over her chest. All she wanted was to get away from him. “I hate you! You're so unfair and mean. Flynn is not his father!”
“No, but I'm yours, young lady, and you will do as I say.”
“You cannot rule over me all my life, Pa!” She'd never raised her voice to him before, but if she didn't stand up to him . . . “Why should you get to tell me what to do? I'm a grown woman!”
“You’re grown?”
“Yes! And you’re . . . you’re so pigheaded! There’s nothing wrong with us sitting his porch and talking in full sight of the whole clan! So what if it was an every night thing? What’s it to you?”
“Watch your tone, Alicia. I'm your father.”
“I know that! What are you afraid of? It isn’t like we’re planning on running off!”
“That’s exactly what your mother thinks you’re doing. You may think you’re grown, daughter, but you’re far from it.”
“Oh, Pa! I’m as mature as I’m ever going to get.”
He exhaled but offered no reply. No more words at all, the only sounds were the groans and creaks of the wagon dotted intermittently with the jangle of the mules' trace chains.
Her declaration hung in the air around her ears. She hoped his, too. But that wasn't the only statement still ringing, and that one, she couldn’t let stand.
“I'm sorry I said I hated you, Pa. That isn’t the truth. I love you.”
“I know you do. And I love you too, baby.”
“We've never even said a word about running off and eloping. We wouldn't do that.” She uncrossed her arms and let her head fall over onto his shoulder. He was so big and strong, and he did love her, always had.
“Why don't you trust me?”
Before he offered an answer, her brother’s war hoop brought the reality that she was home. She’d probably never get an answer.
Setting the wagon's brake, Pa looked over. “You and Flynn can have a few minutes this evening.
”
A gasp filled her lungs. Did he mean it? She blew out the breath. Had she been holding it? “Oh, thank you, Pa!” She turned and hugged his neck. “Thank you so much!”
While the others kicked around the offer of labor, Flynn kept his own mind. The cent and a half Mister Harrell asked was more than fair, below what slaves got.
But then the darkies also swooped in and cleaned a field of sixty acres in a day or two. Plus, the going price had already dropped over the cost offered.
“Any other thoughts?” Seve looked around the cook-fire circle. “Flynn, you haven't said anything. What are your thoughts?”
“Was enjoying the listening, sir.” He nodded. “Seems to me, the balance beam is tipping in favor of hiring the help. If prices keep falling, they might pay for themselves. And it would let us get gone that much sooner as well.”
His father held his hand out. “Out of the mouth of babes. I'm with my son. I say we tell Harrell and his to come on.”
“Well now, I sure don't like it that he owns a slave.” Alicia's ma put on her holier—than—thou cloak and crossed her arms over her chest.
“Gabby says Izzy's been with them forever. Her father died around the same time as Mis'ess Harrell of the fever. She told me she and her dad took sick, too, but Izzy nursed them back to health.”
“Sounds like she’s a good woman.”
“Seems to me the lady's more family to the Harrells than a slave. I mean, I don't think they treat her bad at all. Least not from what Gabby said.”
That got her a look from her mother. Flynn stifled a smile.
“Let's vote. I say yes. Who's with me?” Mister Seve counted hands. “Seven to one for. Laud, if you don't see him tomorrow, leave word at the gin's office if you would.”
“Will do.”
“I told him where we are, but written directions might save him a wrong turn or two.”
“Liberty?” He looked to his sister. “You can handle the writing part, can't you?”
“Happy to. Unlike some folks I know, I learned how.”
Laud laughed. “Don't start on me, Sister. I got enough schooling to suit me just fine.”
Flynn had heard it all before and had no intentions of burning what little sunlight there was left. He smiled at his love then trotted to his porch and pulled out Mam's rocker.
