A Day to Pick Your Own Cotton

by Michael Phillips

“Yes, ma’am.”

  “Show me,” said Katie, hardly noticing that she’d been called “ma’am” for the first time in her life.

  Katie stepped outside, then suddenly remembered Emma back in the house.

  “Wait here just a minute,” she said to the girl.

  She ran back inside, opened the door to the cellar, hurriedly lit one of the extra lanterns, and took it down the ladder and set it someplace safe, then went back to find Emma.

  “Emma,” she said, “I’ve got to leave for a little while.”

  “Leave! Where to, Miz Katie?”

  “I don’t know. Somebody’s here who needs help. I don’t know how long I’ll be. I want you and William to wait for me in the cellar.”

  “But I’ll be skeered, Miz Katie!”

  “Don’t worry. I lit a lantern. We’ll take several blankets so you won’t be cold. Now come with me, Emma.”

  A few minutes later, Katie walked out of the house again. The little girl was waiting patiently for her. She reached up and took Katie’s hand as she approached, then led her along the road away from Rosewood, the three dogs following excitedly.

  “What is your name?” Katie asked.

  “Aleta,” said the girl.

  “I’m Katie,” she said.

  If she had known how far they were going to walk, Katie would have hitched a buggy. But the girl was so vague and obviously upset, she thought the accident with the horse must be somewhere close by. But they kept walking and walking, and pretty soon Katie wondered if she’d made a mistake. But the girl tugged and pulled her along as fast as they both could go, and Katie couldn’t do anything but follow.

  They walked for an hour or so. By the time they came to the place where the horse had apparently fallen, they were two or three miles away from Rosewood. They’d long ago passed the turnoff for Mr. Thurston’s plantation, and Katie didn’t recognize anything around them. Then she saw some scuff marks on the dirt and at the edge of the road and a woman’s bonnet. The girl led her off the road and down a little bank.

  “She’s over here,” she said. “We were riding on the road, but the horse stumbled down this bank. That’s when we fell.”

  “Was the horse galloping?” asked Katie.

  “Yes, we were riding real fast.”

  “Why were you going so fast?”

  “We were trying to get away.”

  “Get away … from what?”

  “From my daddy. He was drunk and my mama was afraid.”

  “Why was he drunk?”

  “He got drunk every night,” said the girl, pulling at Katie’s hand. “When he came back from the war, he was mean and angry. He yelled at my mama and hit her sometimes. That’s why we ran away.”

  “Where were you going?”

  “I don’t know. Somewhere Mama said we’d be safe.”

  They were down the embankment now. The minute Katie saw the woman lying beside the stream at the bottom of it, she knew she was dead. Her face was gray, and her neck was bent at an unnatural angle. From what Katie could tell, she must have hit her head on the rock beside her when she fell. There was no sign of the horse.

  “Mama … Mama, please … get up,” the little girl cried, running to her.

  Katie knelt down beside her and started to cry herself. “Oh, God … not again,” she whispered silently. “What should I do!”

  “Please, ma’am,” said the girl, looking up into Katie’s face with the most forlorn look Katie had ever seen, “please do something to help her. Can’t you make my mama wake up!”

  The girl bent down to touch her mother’s face. When the coldness of death met her touch, she pulled back with a start, seeming to realize something was terribly wrong. Katie took the girl in her arms and pulled her close. Now Katie was the older girl who had to comfort someone younger. They were both crying. As the girl wept in Katie’s arms, the instinct that comes to people at such times told the little girl that she would never see her mother again.

  For several minutes they remained just weeping. Then slowly Katie stood, took the girl by the hand, and led her back up the hill to the road.

  When they were out of sight of her mother’s body, Katie stopped. She stooped down to one knee, took both the girl’s hands in hers and looked into her eyes while she fought back her own tears.

  “Aleta,” said Katie softly, “your mother can’t wake up.”

  “Why?”

  “Aleta … your mother is dead. We will have to let God take care of her now.”

  Huge new tears welled up in the girl’s eyes.

  Katie took her in her arms again and held her, both of them starting to cry all over again.

  “Don’t worry, Aleta,” said Katie. “We’ll take care of you until we think what is the best thing to do. We’ll go back to my house and get you washed, and I’ll give you something to eat, and we will decide what to do.”

  “But what about my mama?” wailed the despairing girl.

  “We’ll bring a wagon back. I’ll take care of her, Aleta.”

  HARSH WORDS

  17

  AS I WAS STILL STANDING IN THE PARLOR HOLDING the three gold coins in my hand that Emma had found in the basement, I suddenly realized I heard dogs barking outside. I stuffed the coins into the pocket of my dress and ran outside as Emma climbed out of the cellar with William. There was Katie in the distance walking toward the house. I was so happy to see her I didn’t even notice at first that she wasn’t alone. By then I had all but forgotten the coins.

  I ran toward them, then all of a sudden saw the girl at Katie’s side, holding her hand. I was still overjoyed to see Katie, but I slowed down as I ran.

  “Who’s that?” said Aleta as she saw me coming.

  “That’s Mayme,” answered Katie. “She’s a girl who lives with me at my house.”

  “But she’s colored,” said Aleta.

  “Mayme’s my friend. I don’t even think about what color she is.”

  Katie let go of Aleta’s hand and ran toward me. I started running again and we ran right up to each other, then slowed down, hugging and laughing as we met. I’m not sure we didn’t shed a few tears mixed in with it too. It seemed like we were always crying, either happy cries or sad ones.

  “I was so worried about you!” I said as I stepped back. “I got home and couldn’t find you anywhere! I discovered Emma in the cellar just a minute ago.”

  “What about me!” laughed Katie. “I thought you’d be back yesterday, and you never came and never came, and then all night … I was so worried that you might not come back at all.”

  “I’m sorry, Miss Katie.”

  “What happened?” she asked.

  “I’ll tell you all about it. So much exciting happened, you won’t believe it!”

  Before we could say anything more, Katie’s new little friend slowly approached and stood at Katie’s side, looking over at me like I had the plague or something. It reminded me of the looks I’d gotten from the white ladies in town the day before. On top of her grief over losing her mother, the poor girl had never in her life seen anything like what she’d just witnessed—a white person and a black person hugging each other and laughing and talking like friends. Yet the expression on her face was not just one of bewilderment, but of something I’ve seen many times throughout my life and could never quite understand. It was a look of anger. I reckon if somebody doesn’t want to like black people, or if a black person doesn’t want to like white people, maybe that’s their own affair. But I could never see why they’d get so angry if other folks saw it different. If I wanted Katie to be my friend, why should that make any other colored person mad? And if Katie wanted me for a friend, why should that make Aleta mad?

  From the look on the girl’s face, I’d never have suspected that she’d just lost her mama.

  “Mayme,” said Katie, “this is my new friend, Aleta.”

  “Hello, Miss Aleta,” I said with a smile, holding out my hand toward her.

  She pulled back with a look
of disgust on her face, eyeing my hand as if it was a snake trying to bite her.

  “Don’t you touch me!” she snapped.

  Katie looked at me apologetically, then added softly, “There’s been an accident. Aleta’s mother …”

  Then she stopped.

  “Aleta,” she said, turning and looking back at the girl. “Why don’t you run on ahead to the house,” she said, not thinking at first that another surprise was waiting for her there just as bad as the one she’d just had! “I need to talk to Mayme for a minute,” she added. “I’ll be right there.”

  Aleta dashed off, followed by the dogs. I think she was glad to get away from me.

  “I’m sorry, Mayme,” said Katie. “I had no idea she would do that.”

  “It’s all right, Miss Katie. What happened?”

  Katie filled me in as we walked back to the house.

  “You’re sure she’s dead?” I said. “You want me to go out and look?”

  “Her skin was cold, Mayme,” said Katie with a little shudder and a look like she was going to be sick. “She was cold and pale, with her eyes half open—ugh! When you see a face like that, you know a person’s dead.”

  I nodded.

  It was a little awkward figuring out what to do about Aleta’s mother. I’d have been glad to go bury her myself, but I didn’t know where she was. And Katie didn’t think that’d be such a good idea with how the girl felt about me, especially since she’d told her she would take care of it. But she couldn’t very well take the girl with her. But neither could she leave her with me.

  “I’ll go down to the colored cabins, Miss Katie, if you want to do the burying by yourself,” I said. “I’ll just wait there till you get back.”

  “Oh, Mayme, I don’t want you to have to—”

  “It’s all right, Miss Katie,” I said. “I don’t mind. I’ll take my reader and the journal you gave me and the pen and ink. I gotta try to write down about everything that happened yesterday.”

  Katie nodded.

  “I’ll give her something to eat,” she said, “and see if I can get her to take a nap. I’ll tell her to wait in the house until I get back.”

  “I’ll go hitch up a buggy for you,” I said. “Are you sure you don’t want me to go along and help? I could go up the road now so she wouldn’t see me.”

  Katie thought a minute.

  “I think this is something I should do by myself,” she said. “You helped me when I didn’t know what to do. You buried my whole family, Mayme. Now it’s my turn to try to help her. But if you would hitch the small buggy, I would appreciate it. And, Mayme, could you please put two shovels in back, the small one I usually use and a regular one.”

  I nodded and walked toward the barn while Katie continued on to the house. But by then Aleta had walked through the kitchen door, then turned and ran back outside toward Katie with a scowl on her face.

  “There’s another nigger girl in your house!” she announced as though Katie would be as shocked as she was.

  Katie stooped down, gently put her hands on Aleta’s shoulders, and looked into her eyes.

  “Aleta,” she said, “that’s Emma. And we don’t call her that word. She’s a nice colored girl whose skin just happens to be brown like yours is white. She came here needing my help just like you did.”

  “But she’s in the house.”

  “Yes, she is, Aleta,” Katie replied calmly.

  “Is she your slave?”

  “No, she’s my friend and I let friends who need help stay here … like Emma, like Mayme, and now like you.”

  Aleta didn’t change her mind about Emma and me because of what Katie said. But Katie’s kindness, along with the realization that seemed to deepen within her as the afternoon progressed that her mama was really gone, enabled her at least to tolerate our presence for the rest of the day.

  She avoided us, and looked at us with disgust in her eyes, but she made no more outbursts.

  TREASURE HUNT

  18

  THAT NIGHT, AFTER ALETA HAD HAD A BATH AND was asleep in Katie’s bed, and Emma and William were settled in the other room, I helped Katie bathe and get cleaned up from the burying. While she was finishing up and getting ready for bed, I sat down at the writing desk and continued on with what I’d started to write earlier in the journal she had given me.

  I’d never before tried to write down much of what I was thinking or feeling. I never had been able to write well enough to do that. And I still couldn’t. But I wanted to try. All I’d ever done is just say what I did. Now that I was feeling so many new things—growing up inside, I’d reckon you’d say—I wanted to find a way to express it. But that’s not easy. It’s hard to try to put something as big as what had happened to me into just a few words.

  I tried. But when I read it over, it hardly felt as big as I was feeling it inside. So much was happening all of a sudden, but when I quieted my thoughts down all I could think of was my talk with Josepha and what I’d done afterward.

  Yesterday I went bak to my ol hows agin, wifout Katie this time. I saw Josepha an the master. They wernt killd by the riders that shot the others. Josepha tol me that all slaves had been freed. I dint no what to think. It was hard to beleeve. Josepha gits pade now fer workin. She said I cud git pade to ef I wantid to stay an work wif her. But I said no. I was thinkin bout so meny things wen I lef there. She gav me leven cints. I felt lik a rich person. I rod to a town calld Oakwod en went into a store. I bot a hankechif an ribon wif ten cints an savd the las peny. I lookt at a hotel where they had a job for a colord girl like me. I wud a got ten cints a day. But then I thot bout Katie an new my home was wif her now. Wen I got back another little girl was wif Katie whos mother got throwd from her hors en killd. Shes—

  Just then Katie came into her brother’s room, which she called my room now, and sat down on the bed. I turned around and smiled. I set the pen down, and after the ink was dry, closed the journal and got on the bed with her. She was exhausted from the day and had blisters on six of her fingers from two hours of shoveling.

  “What are we going to do with her, Mayme?” she said.

  “Have you found out where she lives or anything?” I asked.

  Katie shook her head with a weary sigh.

  “We oughta find out her last name,” I said. “Then I reckon we could ask. Somebody’s bound to know the name and where her daddy lives.”

  “But she seems afraid of him. What if he is really as bad as she says?”

  I didn’t have an answer to that.

  “And who would we ask,” said Katie, “without them asking about us too? We couldn’t go into town and ask Mrs. Hammond or anybody else.”

  “I reckon we’ll have to take care of her awhile,” I said. “At least till we can find out more about her.”

  Then I started chuckling. “I guess I should say, you’ll have to take care of her,” I added. “She doesn’t like me much.”

  Katie smiled a sad, knowing smile and reached out and put a hand on my arm. I knew she felt bad for me.

  “How much should we tell her, Mayme?” she said.

  I thought about that a minute. I hadn’t considered it before.

  “I don’t know,” I said. “Has she asked why nobody else is here? Why there aren’t any grown-ups, only one white girl and two black girls and a baby?”

  Katie shook her head. “I don’t know if she’s noticing much of anything. She’s younger than us, Mayme, and she just lost her mother. I’m not even sure it’s hit her yet. Remember how I was when you found me?”

  “Do you suppose her father might come for her?”

  “How would he know she’s here?”

  “I don’t know,” I answered. “Maybe he knew where they were going, or maybe he followed them and will come here asking about them.”

  “What would we do if he did?”

  “She’d have to go with him, I reckon. She ain’t an orphan like us. So we don’t want to tell her too much, or she’d tell him, and we’d get fo
und out.”

  “You’re right,” said Katie. “Maybe I shouldn’t tell her anything. But I’m too tired to think about it anymore. We’ll worry about it tomorrow.”

  Slowly she got off the bed.

  “I think I should sleep with Aleta tonight,” she said, walking toward the door. “She might have a nightmare or wake up and not know where she is.—Good night, Mayme.”

  “Good night, Miss Katie.”

  Just as she left the room, I suddenly remembered. “Miss Katie, Miss Katie!” I said after her. “I almost forgot.”

  Katie hurried back into the room, wondering what I was talking about. I jumped off the bed and stood up. I was still wearing my work dress and hadn’t gotten into my nightclothes yet. I put my hand in my pocket and pulled out the three gold coins.

  “Look what Emma found in the cellar when you were gone!”

  Katie looked at them lying in my hand, so exhausted from the day and bewildered at what I’d said that the bigness of it didn’t sink in at first. Then slowly her eyes got real big.

  “Mayme,” she said, “but … but that’s—”

  “Yes, Miss Katie—it’s gold. And it’s yours! She found it in the cellar.”

  “But how … why was it there? Where did she find it?”

  “I don’t know. But maybe it’s from that uncle of yours.”

  “Do you think … Mayme, what if there’s more!”

  We were both out of the room like a flash, trying to tiptoe so as not to wake Aleta or disturb Emma. One thing we didn’t need right then was Emma yammering away and following us and asking questions!

  We hurried downstairs and a minute later, hearts pounding with anticipation, we were climbing down the steep ladder. I went first holding a lantern, Katie followed with a candle. We went down the rickety steps. It was colder than upstairs, and as the lantern lit up the place it was spooky. Katie looked around with a shudder.

  “Except for getting Emma settled this morning,” she said, “I haven’t been here since … you know, since the night before you came. I’ve been afraid to even look down here again. I didn’t want to look around this morning, but I guess I can’t really help it now.”