by Caryl McAdoo
All the others busied themselves on who-knew-what tasks. She didn't have time to keep up with them.
Hardly had time to write, but she managed to pen a letter to post each Monday.
Oh Lord, what would she do without such a grand day?
That second day of the week—before what everyone figured would be the last before picking commenced—turned sour with the arrival of the noon stage.
Servilia never saw the man when he disembarked, but heard plenty about him before she had to fetch her girls from the school house—could hardly wait to tell the news either.
Chapter Eleven
A
s most Mondays, the middle
Parker sister burst into Zeke's parlor talking. His soon to be sister-in-law wasn't shy and never lacked for words, but from her first syllable that morning, a dark cloud shrouded his soul.
His love looked to him then back to her sister. “You sure about this, Vili? You saw him for you own self?”
“Well, no.” She slipped into the empty chair closest to the table. “But there were plenty who did. And I heard from several sources that he is blacker than an unrepented sinner's heart! Hard to believe he's the new judge.”
Hiking both eyebrows, she leaned back like she'd just delivered the telling blow in a fist fight, resting then on her laurels.
Zeke signed to Melody then looked back to her sister. “Ezekiel wants to know if you know the man's name?”
“Only what I heard. He's Judge John Jay, guess his former master named him after the first Supreme Court Chief Justice. What a coincidence, right?”
He shook his head then spelled out what he knew.
“He says not if he's the same Judge Jay he's heard about. That man never was a slave.”
“Well.” Servilia stood. “Plenty of folks are most unhappy. Some even . . .” She shrugged. “Mind you now, I don't agree. I'm only reporting what I heard, but some are saying we can't have it. That we . . . er, uh . . . they might just have to take matters in hand—like the folks did in Avery.”
He looked from the talebearer to her sister, questioning with a look.
Melody shook her head. “Some freedmen moved into the community, and the locals burned them out.”
“N, n, nooo.” He hated hearing that bit of local history.
Too soon, his Monday ladies were loaded and gone. His eyes savored her profile until the last wave at the last bend. Once she’d moved out of sight, he retreated to his room and sank to his knees.
Supper took him downstairs then while he helped the boys with cleanup, a rather loud hail pulled him to the porch.
Preacher stood next to his gelding. “Hoped you’d be here then didn't much expect you to be anywhere else.”
He gestured his greeting then ushered the man inside. Instead of heading to the kitchen, he veered off and took a seat in the parlor.
Zeke pulled a chair close then pointed to the man.
“You heard about our new judge?”
He nodded.
“Guessed you would. I saw Servilia in town.”
A chuckle escaped. He wanted to laugh more, but Preacher coming all the way out couldn't be any laughing matter.
“I need a Word from the Lord, Ezekiel. Half the men in the church want to take up arms.”
“I, I, I, I'll p, p, p, pray.”
“Good. Sunday—Lord willing—let us know what He says.” The man stood. “Well, I won't keep you.”
Came all that way just to ask him to get a Word from the Lord. Too bad he didn't have the faith to hear for himself. He was a good man though, no doubt about that. Zeke pantomimed shoveling food into his mouth.
“No, no, thank you. I've got two families out this way I ought to visit; see if I can douse some flames. You know how it is.”
With a nod, he pulled out his pad and scribbled then passed it over.
Preacher read, nodding. “Yes, sir. Melody can translate for you in case the Lord doesn't loosen your lips.”
Halfway out, the man stopped then spun around. “Almost forgot. This letter came for you today.” He handed over an envelope.
After the supper dishes sat ready and waiting back in the cupboard, and the boys had all disappeared to their rooms, he found some alone time the last half hour before lights out to read his cousin's letter.
Dearest Zeke,
Servilia's words have stolen my heart. I fear for my sanity if your departure is delayed even an extra day over getting the Parker sister's crop to the gin.
Enclosed is a check for fifty dollars. Please advance me the additional funds if that isn't enough to hire all the help necessary to pick and deliver that cotton in as timely a manner as possible.
Upon your and the ladies' arrival in Saint Joseph, I will reimburse whatever the amount.
The Lord has blessed me beyond measure, and it is pure pleasure to hire help so that the object of nearly my every thought may come sooner rather than later—and to save the sisters the physical labor as well.
I truly appreciate it, Ezekiel.
Hopefully, all is well with you and your young charges. I trust nothing has changed between you and your Melody and that your upcoming nuptials will go precisely as planned, unhindered.
I have read and reread all of Servilia's letters—and yours as well. If you could think of anything more to share about her . . .
Would that the days would melt away.
I long to feast my eyes on said fair maiden.
From the first, I of course trusted your judgment. But the more she and I correspond, it becomes clearly apparent that you've soft-pedaled your future sister-in-law.
I praise God that she has not previously been swept off her feet by some sweet talking Texan. I shouldn't be, but I'm a little grateful the war decimated the male population all over.
I detest the waiting. If there's any money left over after the cotton, upgrade at any and every stage of your trip north.
Regards, cousin.
Rupert
Zeke looked at the check then put it in his wallet. Should be plenty of money left over at two cents a pound. He ran a list of the boys needing work during the harvest break. Five for sure, maybe six. He laughed.
If the doing was as odious as his love insisted, picking cotton might be a good lesson for some.
Putting the coming days off out of his mind, he went for his routine bed-check and made sure all lamps had been turned off. On his return, he went to his knees and sought the Lord as he'd told Preacher he would.
Very soon, a strange word settled on his soul.
REBELLION
He couldn't resolve exactly what it meant, but the more he pondered on the revelation, the more aware he became of its meaning.
The next morning over a cup of coffee, he searched the scriptures to confirm what he'd decided. Several times before the coming Lord's day, a hint of what needed to be said echoed through his soul.
By Sunday morning, only one thing remained unsure. Would the Lord loosen his tongue? Or would Melody have to translate?
Spotting her intended under the big oak about a mile out, Melody stood and waved. The wagon's off-wheel dipped, and she grabbed Servilia's shoulder to steady herself. Riding in the back of the wagon always jostled a body more.
Vilia grinned and shook her head. “Mercy, Mel, sit down. He sees us.”
“I know. But I'm on pins and needles. What if some of the old grumps take exception to me being up front?”
“What if they do? I say let them. Preacher's the one who gave Zeke his permission, so let any complainers take it up with him.”
She slipped back down to the bench and sucked her lungs full. “You know how all the old biddies flap their gums. I just don't want to be the butt of their conversations, especially not right here before the wedding. Everything has to go perfect.”
“Cotton first.” Lucy turned around, her hand on Earl's shoulder. “Then we'll get you and Mister Sheffield hitched.”
Melody shot her big sis a smirky smile. Of course
she'd pick her weight in lint, but she knew something neither of her sisters did.
It had tickled her silly when she heard the news. About busted a gut talking Zeke into holding his peace. She wanted to wait to tell them until everyone was there together, and it was only for one more day.
Though on the fence about Cousin Rupert before, him sending money to hire pickers put her firmly in the man's camp.
Not that her opinion really mattered. Servilia had convinced herself the man had been formed in his mother's womb just for her, and no one, nor any suggestions against the relationship going immediately forward would be considered.
Nothing could keep them apart, to her way of thinking.
The wagon turned off the main road onto church property. Melody touched Earl's shoulder. “Would you please let me off here?”
He complied, then like the gentleman he was, jumped down and helped her out the back. She thanked him then hurried toward her beloved.
Zeke took both her hands but didn't kiss her or hug her or do anything but look into her eyes. The man was maddening sometimes. As much as she disliked it, she also respected him for keeping his word.
Would her special day ever arrive? Stupid cotton!
He smiled then burst out in song. “There's within my heart a Mel-o-dy.” He smiled that smile that made her insides happy. “You ready?”
“Yes, sir. Of course. But I'm about to faint, too. It's the mere thought of a woman up on the platform where the preacher belongs that has me all concerned. You may not know it, but some of the members are going to have a conniption fit.”
“Mercy, you think so?”
“Oh, absolutely. But mercy is certainly correct, Mister Sheffield. I am so looking forward to being by your side. Do you know what you're going to say yet? Maybe practicing on me now would help. You know I'm good at interrupting. You said so yourself, so—”
“Easy, sweet Melody. I don't know exactly what I'm going to say. Or if the Lord will loosen my lips. Either way though, having you right there beside me will be wonderful.” He grinned again. “For the rest of my life, at the least.” Then he looked like he wanted to kiss her so bad it pained him. A part of her liked it that he tortured himself, too.
She squeezed both his hands. “I'll never forget this day.”
“Might be the first of many. I'd love being a pastor. No reason I see not to have both, a school and church.”
She floated on that thought all the way to the front pew. The announcements included her and Zeke's coming nuptials. She hated it that to be on the safe side, Saturday after next won the day. But then, even with extra help, five days of picking might not be enough.
Plus, it might take two full days just to get the church all gussied up enough to suit Lucy. Almost as though honor-bound to give Melody a grander wedding than hers and Jake's.
The last note of the last song drifted off.
Preacher stood and marched to the pulpit. He waited until the last pin dropped, then shook his head. “I asked Brother Sheffield here to seek a Word from the Lord about our new judge.”
Murmurs bounced off the walls. Melody didn't turn around to see who the troublemakers were. After all, they were well known.
“Hold it right there, folks. Everyone knows how Zeke knew about that twister and Harvey's lead soldier and his tree . . . how no one would be hurt. The man hears from God. Who can deny it?”
No one spoke up. And the murmurs stopped all together. “All right then. Now let's hear what he has to say.”
“He can say what he will. Ain't going to change nothing, that nigger's got to go.”
What? How dare he! Melody spun around, but the man who'd hollered out was not to be seen. Of course no one stood and took credit for the outburst.
Preacher glared at what appeared to be the back wall, but didn't say anything. Someone sure ought to say something! Instead, he only nodded at Zeke who sat the deacon's bench.
Surely he would not let that ugly word pass without a stinging reprimand! Her handsome betrothed stood and walked to the platform's edge.
Her heart beat the nines, as he held his hand out toward her. She rose, reminded herself where she was—in church—then walked, rather than ran to him. He smiled and immediately began spelling out what he wanted her to say.
Watching for a bit, she faced the congregation. For several breaths, she only stared, trying with all her might to swallow. Her stomach rolled, then she remembered her job.
“Zeke . . . uh . . . Reverend Sheffield says he has prayed a lot about what the Lord wanted him to say.” She looked back to Zeke's hands then turned back around to face the congregation.
“He says only one word came to him, and he knows for sure it came from the Lord.” She couldn't see their faces and so picked herself out a knothole on the back wall and finally swallowed the cotton ball stuck in her throat. “That word is rebellion.”
Zeke searched the crowd. From their expressions, he could tell too many took the Word the wrong way. A familiar warmth engulfed him. For a second, he waited for the confirmation. When it came he opened his mouth.
Oh, how he loved it when Almighty God loosened his lips—such a joy to speak without a stutter.
“Rebellion is as the sin of witchcraft.” He shook his head. “Texas was mostly spared the ravishes of the Civil War. Will you plunge us back into another blood bath? The Lord says to humble yourself in His sight. Seek Him, and He will hear from Heaven. He'll heal our land.”
He waited for acceptance. Only a few heads bobbed.
His gaze fell on a farmer he didn't know, but the Lord did—He knew everything about the fellow. Zeke held the fellow's eyes. “Brother, the Lord says about this time tomorrow, you and yours are going to reap what you've sown.”
The man jumped to his feet. “What are you talking about, charlatan?”
For several booms of his heart, Zeke only stared, then flames burned across his mind's eye. AVERY echoed through his soul.
“Avery. Humble yourself while there's still time. Repent and confess your sins, brother. God will not be mocked. Whatever a man sows, that will he reap. You cannot sow to the wind without reaping the whirlwind.”
“Hogwash! Ain't got nothing to repent of.” The farmer pulled his wife to her feet, dragged her into the aisle, then stormed away, hurrying toward the back of the sanctuary with his three almost-grown boys on his heels.
“Mis'ess Grissom!”
The lady pulled her hand free and turned back. Even from that distance, he could see the horror written across her face.
“The Lord says for your sake, He will spare your home.”
The woman nodded then scurried after her husband, herding the boys.
Wanting to say more, he tried to holler after Grissom to come back, tell him there was still time . . . but his tongue cleaved to the roof of his mouth.
How he hated the knowing of what would befall the family. He looked to his love, who stared toward the door, left wide open by the family. He touched her hand and smiled. She responded with one of her own.
He signed for her to sit down then joined her on the front pew.
A few shook his hand and patted him on the back on leaving the church after services were over, but most gave him a wide berth. A pleasant afternoon with his love followed.
Her sisters and new brother-in-law gave him alone time with Melody, though never enough.
As the sun ducked beneath the western tree line, painting the beautiful Texas skies with golden pinks and purples, he bade his beloved farewell and headed to the school. He hated what was coming.
But at least the Lord said he would spare their home.
Harmony's eyes popped open. A bit of moonlight lit the room with a silvery haze, not much, but enough to get ready. She didn't like it, not one bit. Mondays were for school, not picking cotton!
Still—she smiled—it wasn't all bad. She put on the work dress Auntie had laid out then tiptoed downstairs. The lamp's glow told her mama and her new daddy were in the kitchen.
She never beat them up.
Stopping at the last step, she peeked around the corner. Maybe she could see what they were saying. She watched for a bit, but they only talked about cotton, and she didn't care if she ever saw another word about cotton!
Almost hated the white fluff, except Mama told her that's how she got money to buy what they needed.
Harmony loved shopping. Maybe Mama would buy those shoes she'd asked for the last five times she'd visited the mercantile. Or a new store-bought dress! Mister Earl rose and retrieved the coffee pot.
On his return, he spotted her, winked, but didn't give her away. He filled his and Mama's cup then put the pot back.
Fine and dandy! He wasn't going to say anything and might probably stop mama from spilling any beans. Harmony slipped off the step then crept forward. Halfway there, her mother turned and smiled. “Good morning, sweetie pie.”
She huffed, and her shoulders slumped. One day, she'd sneak up on both of them. She flashed the good morning sign then asked with her hands, 'where is breakfast?'
“We've still got time. It won't be enough light for a while yet. Sweetheart you've got your shoes on the wrong feet.”
She looked down then shook her head then spelled out. 'These are the only feet I got.'
Her mama about hurt herself not laughing, then knelt down and switched her shoes.
She made the thank you sign.
A big smile. “What got you up so early?”
'Teacher!' She almost spelled out 'coming' but that would spoil the surprise! Around Mister Earl, she spelled slower than she could, so he could get it.
Harmony liked how her mother didn't talk slow or move her lips funny like so many who talked to her. She grinned at knowing a thing her mama didn't. Loved it!
But wouldn't they find out soon enough? If she didn't tell them, then Mama might not cook enough and be caught short. Mama hated that. Plus it was almost time, anyway, and she could share the good news before Auntie!
She spelled with her hands. 'Teacher and some of the boys from school are coming to help pick.'
