A Day to Pick Your Own Cotton

by Michael Phillips

  “So that must mean … that means you’re free too, Mayme.”

  “Yes, that’s what I said was exciting,” I said. “I’m not a runaway, Miss Katie. I’m free!”

  Katie took in my words with a puzzled expression that gradually changed to worry. At first I didn’t understand it. I thought she’d be happy and excited too. She was starting to see a little more of what it meant, but in a different way than I was seeing it.

  There was a long silence. When she next spoke, her voice was soft and I could tell she was nearly in tears.

  “Do you want to leave Rosewood, Mayme?” she said.

  Now I realized why she had reacted so strange.

  “Oh … no, Miss Katie. That’s not why I was saying it. I just wanted you to know, that’s all.”

  “But … you’re free. Don’t you want to go somewhere else?”

  “No, Miss Katie,” I said. “Where else would I go?”

  “You could go back there.”

  “This is my home now, with you. I want to be here.”

  It was quiet a few seconds.

  Then suddenly a new thought struck her and Katie’s face brightened.

  “Then we don’t need to pretend you’re my slave anymore,” she said. “You can be just like me.”

  “Except that this is your plantation,” I said. “I don’t have anything but …”

  I remembered the handkerchief. I jumped out of bed and went and got it where I’d set it on the dresser, and brought it and showed it to her. Then I told her about the eleven cents and all about my ride into Oakwood.

  “I bought this,” I said. “It’s the first time I’ve ever bought something in my life.”

  “It’s pretty, Mayme,” said Katie.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t come right back,” I said.

  “It’s all right. I’m glad you could buy it. It makes me happy to know that you’re free. I was just worried at first that you wanted to leave.”

  “No, I don’t want to leave, Miss Katie.”

  “Maybe I should pay you too. I should have given you one of the gold coins.

  “No, Miss Katie!” I laughed. “I don’t work for you. We’re just friends trying to make out the best we can together.”

  “Well, if we’re equals now,” Katie went on, “don’t you think it’s best if you called me just plain Katie instead of Miss Katie.”

  “We’re not equals, Miss Katie,” I said. “The slaves have been set free, that’s all. But you’re still white and I’m black.”

  “What’s being white or black got to do with it?” she said.

  “I don’t know, Miss Katie. But it’d seem funny just to call you by your name. I still gotta show you respect.”

  “Why should you show me any more respect than I show you?”

  “ ’Cause we ain’t the same. And ’cause this is your house.”

  “No, we’re not the same. But neither of us is any better than the other.”

  “It just sounds respectful to say Miss Katie,” I said.

  “But we should show each other the same respect. You don’t want me calling you Miss Mayme, do you?”

  I couldn’t help laughing as she said it.

  “No,” I said. “That would sound wrong.”

  “If you don’t call me just Katie, then,” said Katie, “I’m going to call you Miss Mayme … or maybe even Miss Mary Ann or Miss Jukes.”

  We laughed some more.

  Neither of us had any idea that in the next room Aleta hadn’t quite gone all the way to sleep after all and was lying awake listening to us.

  I don’t know what she thought about all Katie had just said. Katie couldn’t see it as clearly as I could, but she had almost become like a mama to the poor little girl. Aleta hung on her every word and followed her around and did what she said, almost as if she was her mama.

  And I think seeing that Katie and I loved each other was maybe starting to get inside her skin.

  BEDTIME STORIES

  23

  AS KATIE AND I LAY THERE IN MY BED, IT GOT quiet for a while.

  “I miss our reading and story times, Mayme,” said Katie after a bit.

  “Me too,” I said.

  “I’m glad we can help Aleta, because this is horrible for her,” said Katie. “But we hardly get to talk anymore. And I know we’ve got to help her, until we find out about her daddy. But I don’t like how she treats you.”

  Again it was quiet.

  “Tell me a story, Mayme,” said Katie after a minute.

  “Now?” I said, looking over at her.

  “Yes, please. We haven’t done stories for more than a week. Tell me a story about Mr. Rabbit.”

  “All right … let me try to remember a good one.”

  I thought a minute and then started a story as Katie snuggled down into the pillow and sighed contentedly.

  When I finished it a few minutes later, I looked over and Katie was fast asleep.

  I got up, turned down the kerosene lantern, and got back into bed next to her, happier than I had even been a few days ago after finding out that I was free.

  The next evening after supper when we were starting to think about bedtime, Katie suddenly said, “Aleta, Emma … as soon as you’re both ready for bed, we’re going to have a surprise.”

  I saw Aleta’s face light up for an instant, which was just what Katie was hoping for.

  “What about me?” I said laughing. “Don’t I get a surprise too?”

  “You are the surprise!” said Katie. “So, Aleta—go out to the outhouse if you need to and then go upstairs and get your nightclothes on. Then come back and we’ll sit in the parlor.”

  I still wasn’t sure what Katie was up to, but she had a smile on her face, and Aleta seemed to be catching a little of her excitement and scurried off to do like she’d said.

  Ten minutes later we were all seated together, Aleta cozied up to Katie, who had her arm around her, Emma in another chair with little William at her breast, and me in a wooden rocking chair.

  “Aleta and Emma,” said Katie, “how would you like a story before bed?”

  “Oh, yes’m, Miz Katie,” said Emma, “dat be right fine. I habn’t herd a story in eber so long.”

  “What about you, Aleta—would you like a bedtime story?”

  Yes,” said Aleta softly.

  “Tell us the story you were telling me last night, Mayme,” she said, turning toward me. “I went to sleep before it was over.”

  Now I saw what Katie had been up to!

  “All right,” I said. “It’s a story about Mr. Rabbit and Mr. Fox when Mr. Fox was going hunting for something to eat.”

  I looked at Aleta.

  “Would you like me to tell it in a funny old black man’s voice, Aleta?”

  I think she was surprised that I’d spoken to her. At first she didn’t say anything, but then slowly nodded.

  “All right, then,” I said, “it goes like this … it seems Mr. Rabbit was out walkin’ one day when he ran into ole Mr. Fox, who was going huntin’. Mr. Fox, he ax Mr. Rabbit fer ter go huntin’ wid ’im, but Mr. Rabbit, he sorter feel lazy, en he tell Mr. Fox dat he got some udder fish to fry in da way er huntin’. Mr. Fox was mighty sorry et havin’ t’ go huntin’ alone, but he say he b’leeve he try his han’ at it enny how, en off he went.

  “He wuz gone all day, en he had a monstus streak er luck at huntin’, Mr. Fox did, en he bagged a big sight er game.”

  By now Aleta was snuggling down into the sofa beside Katie, and I thought I could see the faintest little smile on her lips as she listened. How much she understood I don’t know.

  “Bime-by, on to’rds evenin’,” I was saying, “Mr. Rabbit sorter stretch hisse’f, he did, en think hit’s mos’ time fer Mr. Fox fer ter git ’long home. Den Mr. Rabbit, he went en mounted a stump fer ter see ef he could hear Mr. Fox comin’. He ain’t bin dar long when sho’ nuff, here come ole Mr. Fox thoo de woods, singin’ like a black man at a frolic. Mr. Rabbit, he lipt down off ’n de stump, he
did, en lay down in de road en make like he dead.”

  “Why he do dat?” asked Emma in a dreamy voice. William was already asleep, and I don’t think Emma was far behind.

  “Just wait and see, Emma,” I said. “So Mr. Fox come ’long, he did,” I went on, “en see Mr. Rabbit layin’ dar. He look at ’im, en he think dat rabbit’d make a mighty fine supper. So he look closer, en he tu’n im over, he did, en ’zamine ’im, en say, sezee, ‘Dish yer rabbit’s dead. He look like he bin dead a long time layin’ in de hot sun. He dead, but he mighty fat. He de fattes’ rabbit what I ever see, but I reckon he bin dead too long ter eat. I feard ter take ’im home,’ sezee.

  “Mr. Rabbit ain’t sayin’ nuthin.’ Mr. Fox sorter lick his chops, but he went on walkin’ en lef ’ Mr. Rabbit layin’ in de road.

  “But dreckly he wuz outer sight, Mr. Rabbit, he jump up, he did, en he run thoo de woods en git ahead er Mr. Fox agin. Mr. Fox, he come up on da road, en dar lay Mr. Rabbit, ’parently all col’ en stiff jes’ like befo’. En Mr. Fox, he look at Mr. Rabbit, en he sorter study da situation a mite more, en he thinks ’bout all deze dead rabbits all roun’ all er sudden.

  “After while, he onslung his game bag en say ter hisse’f, sezee, ‘Deze yer rabbits gwine ter was’e. Dat don’ seem right ter me. I’ll jes’ leave my game bag yer, en I’ll go back’n git dat udder rabbit, en I’ll come back yer en git this yer rabbit, en I’ll make folks b’leeve dat I’m ole man Hunter from Huntsville baggin’ all deze yer rabbits,’ sezee.

  “En wid dat he drapt his game en loped back up de road atter de udder rabbit. En when he got outer sight, ole Mr. Rabbit, he jump up en snatch up Mr. Fox game bag en head off fer home.

  “Nex’ time he see Mr. Fox, he holler out, ‘What you kill de udder day, Mr. Fox?’ sezee.

  “Den Mr. Fox, he sorter comb his flank wid his tongue, en holler back, ‘I kotch a han’ful er hard sense, Mr. Rabbit,’ sezee.

  “Den old Mr. Rabbit, he laff, he did, en up en answer ’im, sezee, ‘Ef I’da know’d you wuz atter dat, Mr. Fox, I’da loant you some er mine.’ ”

  I looked over at Katie. Aleta was asleep and Katie had a smile on her face. It almost felt like having a family again.

  After that, we started having stories together almost every night. Either I would tell one myself, or Katie would read us all something out of one of her storybooks.

  WASHDAY

  24

  BECAUSE OF ALETA BEING THERE, KATIE’D BEEN occupied with her all day. I could see that it was tiring Katie out having a little girl dog her steps every minute. Some of our chores were falling behind too.

  “I reckon we oughta be doing a wash soon, Miss Katie,” I said one day. It was a hot day early in June. “The aprons and drying cloths are getting a mite greasy.”

  “I was thinking just last night,” said Katie, “how nice it would be to have clean sheets on the bed again. Shall we wash today?”

  I saw Aleta look back and forth between Katie and me at the idea of Katie asking me what to do. But she didn’t say anything.

  “An’ William’s diapers,” put in Emma. “I’m about out ob da ones I washed afore, an’ dey’s getting too ripe even fo his own mama’s nose!”

  I couldn’t help laughing. “Then I think we oughta get everything ready today,” I said, “and do the wash tomorrow. It’ll take a good long while to get the water hot enough. We’ll have to start in the morning.”

  “Aleta,” said Katie, “you and I will go through the house today and gather up everything, our clothes and the bedcoverings, and the kitchen things.”

  “And I’ll bring wood and set the fire outside,” I said. “But I’ll need the rest of you to help lift the tub over the fire pit.”

  “I kin help, Miz Mayme,” said Emma eagerly.

  “We’ll all lift it together,” I said, though when the time came Aleta didn’t do much. The three of us managed to get it onto the iron stand, though how much weight Emma lifted was doubtful too.

  By the end of that day we had everything all ready and a nice big fire set in the pit with the washing tub in place on the rack over it. There was a wooden washing platform to keep the washing area from getting muddy, with the fire pit on one side of it and a metal frame where the tub sat. So the fire burned under part of the tub without setting the platform on fire, and we stood on the other side to do the wash. A second tub—the rinse tub—had its own pump and sat on another wooden platform near the clotheslines.

  We filled the main washtub with water that we carried in buckets from the pump. Then all that was needed was to light the fire and wait till the water got hot enough to get the clothes clean.

  I was the first one up the next morning, like I usually was. I got up and went downstairs, thinking that I’d get the fire lit so the water could be warming. It looked like it was gonna be another hot day, and the sooner we got the wash done, the better we’d feel. I walked outside and looked around. The air was still and cool, and all the birds and other creatures were starting in on their day’s noises—the pigs and the cows, and of course the roosters had already been at it for an hour. And then here came the dogs to greet me and make a fuss like they’d never seen me before.

  I walked around a little bit, thinking about how things were. Just when Katie and me had been starting to get used to having Emma around, now we had Aleta to think about. Were things ever going to be normal again? I wondered. Of course, in our lives what was normal anyway? Not that I didn’t want Aleta here, but it changed things, that was for sure. And yesterday I’d noticed a funny little change in Katie too. I think it might have been because of what I told her about the slaves being freed. I never would have expected it, but she almost seemed to be treating me different, occasionally looking at me and not saying anything, and hesitating before she spoke, almost more respectful or something. You wouldn’t think that’d be something I’d mind. But it made it a little awkward a couple of times to have her look at me that way. I’d been comfortable knowing how to act before. And now it was a little confusing. I reckon it was a change we would both have to get used to. I didn’t feel any different inside. I was still the same person I’d always been. But being free rather than a runaway slave was a big change, whether I felt any different or not.

  I went back inside the kitchen and scooped out some coals from the stove and carried them outside in a bucket. I emptied them carefully beneath the fire pile, keeping the coals together so they’d stay hot. I put a few bits of straw on top of them, then kindling, and blew on it. The straw jumped up into flame right away and pretty soon the whole fire was going.

  I went back in and stoked up the fire in the kitchen stove with some fresh wood. By the time it was going, the other girls were getting up. When we’d milked the cows and fed the pigs and chickens and horses and dogs, we took the cows out to pasture. Aleta went with Katie and me for the first time while Emma saw to William, and though she walked back next to Katie, it seemed like she might be gradually getting used to me. As we got back to the house, I could see steam starting to rise from the washtub.

  “Let’s check the water,” I said. “I think it’s ready.”

  Aleta scampered ahead and stuck her hand in it.

  “Ouch!” she cried. “It’s too hot!”

  Katie and I laughed, and by now Emma was trudging out with a basketload of her things and she laughed too.

  “Get a bucket of water from the pump,” I said to Aleta, “and douse the fire.”

  While she was doing that, Katie and I went inside to help Emma lug out the piles of laundry. Our first load was the sheets and aprons and our underclothes. We took them out and dumped them into the tub, then added soap and bluing.

  “Grab your pile, Emma,” I said, “and dump it in.”

  She did, and then we swished it all around with two laundry sticks, working from the wood platform on the opposite side of the tub from where the fire in the pit underneath was still smoking and smoldering and sizzling from Aleta’s dousing. We’d wash the white things
first, and when they were done, do the work dresses and quilts and heavier things, and at the very last, do our dirty work dresses that had manure on them from milking and cleaning the stalls.

  “Shall we get the rinse tub ready, Miss Katie,” I suggested, “and leave these to soak a spell?”

  “Aleta,” called Katie, “why don’t you keep stirring the clothes with Emma while Mayme and I fill the other pot.”

  Aleta came round and took hold of the stick from Katie and started stirring energetically.

  “Stir and bounce and swish the clothes all around,” said Katie. “Watch what Emma’s doing—that’s right … good, Aleta.”

  We walked over to the rinse tub and first cleaned it out, which we hadn’t done since our last wash. We wanted to make sure the rinse water was nice and clean. After dumping it upside down, we set it back on the platform and pumped in new water.

  “I reckon it’s time to start scrubbing,” I said as we returned to Aleta and Emma.

  “I’ll go get the two washboards,” said Katie.

  “I don’t mind doing the scrubbing, Miss Katie,” I said.

  “That’s silly, Mayme. I’ll help too.”

  As we went Katie glanced at me with an unspoken look of hopeful question as we slowly left Emma and Aleta alone, stirring and swishing in the washtub while we walked away. I heard them talking a little but couldn’t make out too clearly what they were saying. But I know it warmed Katie’s heart just to hear them talking at all.

  “Dat real good, Miz Aleta,” Emma was saying as we returned. “She’s washin’ dese here clothes, right good, Miz Mayme,” she said to me.

  “I can see that, Emma,” I said. “It looks like the two of you have them ready for the washboards. You know how to use a washboard, Emma?”

  “Dat I do, Miz Mayme. I done washed like dis a hunner times.”

  “Good. Then let’s you and me scrub these clothes and get them the rest of the way clean.”

  When Katie came back with the two washboards, we set them in the tub leaning against the rim. Aleta kept stirring—though she was already starting to run out of energy and was slowing down—and Katie joined her. Then Emma and I leaned over and scrubbed each thing one at a time. Once we started getting them done, we wrung them out, and Katie took them over and dumped them into the rinse tub.