A Day to Pick Your Own Cotton

by Michael Phillips

  Slowly Katie walked into the room.

  “Where did you learn that?” she asked.

  “Mayme taught it to me.”

  “It was beautiful, Aleta. William must like it too—he’s sound asleep.”

  Katie sat down and began humming the tune again, and in another minute they were both quietly singing it together.

  A few minutes later they heard the sound of Emma’s footsteps. Before she was even into the room, she was humming along in high harmony. When she saw her little son sleeping in Aleta’s lap, she said a surge of motherly affection went through her heart like she’d never felt before.

  She sat down and slowly the song came to an end and the room grew quiet. It was Emma who first broke the silence.

  “We got ter do sumfin ’bout poor Mayme, Miz Katie,” she said.

  “I don’t know what to do, Emma.”

  “But we got to, Miz Katie. I don’ think we can do dis alone, ’cause I ain’t like Mayme. I can’t do things like she can. You an’ she’s always havin’ ter take care er me, an’ I ain’t smart like the two er you an’ I’m feared sumfin sick ob what’s ter become ob us if Mayme don’ come back. Yer real smart, Miz Katie, an’ yer so good ter me, but I ain’t gwine be much help like you need.”

  “You’ve been a big help, Emma,” said Katie. “And you’re learning to do more things all the time. And you’re taking fine care of William.”

  “Oh, Miz Katie, yer jes’ always so nice, but I knows dat I ain’t got da brains in my head dat you gots in one hand. So I’m jes’ sayin dat we gots ter do sumfin’. Cause dis is all my fault, an’ poor Miz Mayme wouldn’t be in dis fix ’cept fer me bein’ such a cocked loon wiff dat bad egg.”

  “It’s not your fault, Emma. Sometimes bad things just happen.”

  “Miz Mayme wouldn’t be in dis fix ’cept fer me, an’ if I know what she’s doin’ right now, it’s dat she’s not tellin ’em where I’s at. She’s in danger on account er me. So it’s my fault, Miz Katie, an’ we gotter do sumfin ’cause if dey git riled enough dey’s bound ter string her up. I seen what whites kin do when dey git riled. I member where I was at afore when dey strung up an ole uncle jes’ ’cause a chicken was missin’. An’ dat William McSimmons, he’s a mean one when he wants ter be. So we gotter go help her. I’s gotter try ter do sumfin.”

  Katie thought a minute.

  “All right, then, Emma,” she said. “I’ll go back to the McSimmons place. I don’t know what I will do, but you’re right, I have to try to do something.”

  “Dat ain’t what I said, Miz Katie. I said I’s gotter try ter do sumfin. So if you’s goin, den I’m goin’ wiff you.”

  “What about William?” asked Katie.

  “I’ll take care of him, Katie,” Aleta now said eagerly.

  “Can you stay here alone, Aleta?” Katie asked. “Without getting scared?”

  “Yes, I promise. I’ve seen you feed him out of the bottle sometimes, and I know how to clean him if he makes a mess. And if someone comes, we’ll hide in the cellar.”

  Katie turned again to Emma. “Aren’t you afraid of being seen, Emma?” she asked.

  “I reckon I am. But if dat’s what’s gotter be done fer Miz Mayme, den I reckon dat’s what’s gotter be done.”

  Katie drew in a deep breath of resolve, then stood up.

  “Then I guess we’d better get ready,” she said. “Why don’t you fix a bottle or two of milk for Aleta and anything else she needs, and I’ll go saddle two horses.”

  When Katie came back into the house ten minutes later, she was both scared and determined. She had been thinking about all Emma had said and realized she was right—they had to try to do something. If hard times took courage, then now was the time when she had to find out how much she had.

  She walked into the house and saw a determined look on Emma’s face too. She said it was like watching Emma grow up three years in just a few minutes. They looked at each other, and both knew it was time to do what they had to do.

  “Will you be all right, Aleta?” said Katie.

  “Yes, Katie.”

  “You know everything to do?”

  Aleta nodded.

  “Good girl,” said Katie. She gave her a hug, kissed her on the cheek, then turned back to Emma.

  “Well, are you ready?”

  “I’s ready, Miz Katie.”

  Then Emma picked up her little son. “You be good fo Miz Aleta,” she said, then kissed him and handed him back to Aleta.

  Katie glanced around the kitchen, then walked across the floor and picked up a small carving knife from the counter.

  “What dat for, Miz Katie?” said Emma in alarm.

  “I hope nothing, Emma—but if Mayme is tied up somewhere, I don’t want to have to go ask Mrs. Mc-Simmons if we can borrow a knife.”

  Then another thought seemed to strike Katie. She turned and hurried toward the parlor. Emma followed, and when she came into the room she saw Katie standing in front of the open gun cabinet, removing one of her father’s rifles.

  Emma’s eyes widened.

  “What you doin’, Miz Katie!”

  “We don’t know what we’re going to find, Emma,” she said. “But if that man is hurting Mayme … well, I don’t know what. But I’m going to take this with me. Mayme showed me how to use these guns once before, and maybe I’m going to have to use one again to rescue her.”

  She closed the cabinet and turned to go, then stopped. She turned back, took out another rifle, grabbed another handful of shells and put them in her dress pocket, then led Emma from the room, back through the kitchen, and outside to the two waiting horses.

  RESCUE PARTY

  40

  KATIE AND EMMA RODE AS QUICKLY AS THEY could back toward the McSimmons plantation without galloping their horses. Emma’d only been on a horse a time or two in her life, and Katie almost had to teach her how to ride as they went and was afraid she might fall off if they went too fast. As they drew closer Katie realized that she still had no plan of what they would do once they got there. The two rifles sticking out of their saddles behind them wouldn’t do much good against a whole plantation of men.

  As they reached the fork where the road to the Mc-Simmons plantation split off, suddenly Katie had an idea. I reckon you could say it was an idea that would change our fortunes in a lot of ways. But right now she wasn’t thinking that far ahead.

  “Emma,” she said, “I’m going to ride into town as fast as I can. You need to hide here till I get back.”

  “What you doin’ dat for, Miz Katie? I don’ want you ter leab me alone. What about Mayme?”

  “That’s why I’m going to town—I’m going to try to get some help.”

  Katie led Emma down off the road and amongst the trees, quickly dismounted and tied Emma’s horse so it wouldn’t wander off, then helped Emma down.

  “You stay right here, Emma, until I come back. I won’t be more than fifteen or twenty minutes, I promise.”

  Without waiting for Emma to protest further, she mounted again, urged her horse back onto the road, and galloped away toward town as fast as she could. By now she wasn’t worried if anyone saw her. She was desperate and didn’t care. She wasn’t even thinking about being found out or what Mrs. Hammond or Henry or anyone else might think.

  Six or seven minutes later she was galloping past the church and into town, past Mrs. Hammond’s store and down the street, still as fast as she could go. The sound of the hooves pounding down the middle of the street past the bank made everyone stop and stare as she flew by, wondering what was going on. But Katie wasn’t paying them any attention and didn’t slow down until she came to the livery stable, where she reined her horse to a dusty stop. Even Henry’s looks and questions weren’t enough to make her lose her determination now.

  “Where’s Jeremiah?” she asked as she ran toward him, out of breath.

  “Back dere cleanin’ out da livery,” began Henry. “But what’s you in sech an all-fired—”

  Al
ready Katie was past him and running inside the building. She would have to figure out how to answer the questions later.

  “Jeremiah … Jeremiah!” she called out as she hurried into 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 strode toward her.

  “Some men have got Mayme,” said Katie frantically. “White men … and I’m worried and afraid and we’re going to go try to help her, but I’d feel a lot better if you were with us.”

  “Jes’ lead da way, Miz Clairborne,” said Jeremiah, “an I’ll do what I can—”

  Katie turned and ran back outside as Jeremiah, still more than a little confused, hurried to catch up.

  “—but I ain’t got no horse er my own.”

  “You can ride with me!” said Katie, running to her horse and jumping up onto its back. “Just climb up and sit behind the saddle,” she called down, not even thinking of the impropriety of such a thing.

  Less than a minute later, Katie was flapping the reins and galloping back through town the way she had come, leaving a bewildered Henry watching them go, along with a wake of townspeople, shocked, no doubt, to see a white girl and a colored boy flying down the street on the back of the same horse.

  Katie caught a glimpse of Mrs. Hammond standing in front of her store, watching the scandalous scene with her mouth half open. “Well, I never—” she began, but the drumming hooves drowned out whatever else she was about to utter.

  Jeremiah asked no questions, and Katie did not even try to explain until they slowed down and she led the way off the road.

  “I’m going to say the same thing to you,” she said, glancing behind her, “that Mayme 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, and we’ve got to try to rescue Mayme. But I hope you’ll keep quiet, as I’m sure you’ve been doing, since nobody’s come around asking us questions—well, except for one man, which is why Mayme’s in trouble.”

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

  “Who dat?” asked Emma, looking up at the young man who was just as surprised to see her as she was him.

  “Never mind who it is,” said Katie. “He’s the boy who came out to the house one time and he’s going to help us.—Jeremiah,” she said, turning back to him, “would you ride behind her on the other horse? She’s not too secure in the saddle.”

  Jeremiah jumped down and obeyed.

  “Get up,” Katie said to Emma. “It will be all right—he won’t let you fall.”

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

  “These are mean people, Jeremiah,” she said, “and if they see too many more 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 Em—I mean, if they see her,” she added, still not sure how much it was safe to divulge and nodding toward Emma as she said it, “they’re likely to kill her. So we’ve got to stay out of sight. And I don’t want you to be in danger either. So 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?”

  “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 kin git in da house, Miz Katie,” now 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 done things I shouldna done.”

  “We won’t worry about that now,” said Katie. “You can talk to God about it if you want to, but right now we’ve got to try to get Mayme away from there. So how do you get into the house without anybody seeing you?”

  “Dere’s a cellar dat don’t nobody go in much where dey keep wood an’ coal fer da winter. An’ it’s got stairs down to it from under da pantry window, an’ if dere ain’t nobody at dat window, dey can’t see nuthin’ ob you from all da way to behind the chicken shed. Dat’s how I sometimes went out, up from dat cellar, den I’d run across to da chicken shed.”

  “Can we get to the chicken shed without being seen?” asked Katie.

  “I reckon we can try, Miz Katie, hidin’ dese horses in da trees nearby an’ den creeping to da shed when dere ain’t nobody lookin’.”

  “Then we will have to be very careful to make sure no one sees us on the road, and then ride off into the woods when we get close to the place.”

  They continued on their way and did just as Katie had said. But once they were off the main road and getting closer to the plantation, Emma wasn’t much good with directions, and it took them quite a while to find it. But at last they saw the house in the distance through the trees. They tied their horses and dismounted.

  “Maybe you ought to stay with the horses, Jeremiah,” said Katie. “Just in case somebody sees them or something. I don’t suppose there’s any sense in all three of us getting caught in the house. Remember what I said, if anything bad happens, you two get away and don’t worry about me.”

  Katie and Emma continued on foot until they were at the edge of the trees.

  “See, Miz Katie,” said Emma softly, “dere’s the chicken shed. We gotter run dat far in da open.”

  They looked about. Most of the activity was on the other side of the house where the barn and storage buildings were located. Katie looked all about until it seemed like the way was clear.

  “All right,” she said, “let’s go.”

  “I’m gettin’ skeered, Miz Katie.”

  “Me too. But we’ve got to do it for Mayme, remember? It’s time for you to be brave.”

  “All right, Miz Katie, I’ll try.”

  They ran out from behind the trees, hurried across about fifty yards of open field, quickly climbed a short wood fence, and dashed for the shed. A flurry of squawking came from inside as they crouched down behind it, but it soon died back down.

  “I hope nobody seen us!” said Emma.

  “I hope so too,” said Katie. “What do we do now, Emma?”

  “Stick yo head aroun’ da corner, Miz Katie.”

  Katie did so.

  “You see dat slanty cellar door under dat part ob da house dat sticks out from da rest—dat’s da pantry and dat’s da cellar beneath it.”

  “What if it’s locked?”

  “It ain’t neber locked dat I recollect.”

  “Then let’s run for it.”

  “Wait, Miz Katie! You gotter make sure nobody’s in dat window dat can see us.”

  Katie looked around the corner of the shed. “There is somebody there,” she said. “A black lady.”

  Emma stretched her neck around the corner to look. “Dat’s Josepha! I don’t reckon it matters if she see us.”

  “That’s who we’re trying to see anyway,” said Katie. “Let’s go.”

  They inched out from behind the shed and in a few seconds were dashing for the house. Inside the pantry the movement caught Josepha’s eye. She looked down to see a white girl and a black girl just disappearing from sight under the ridge of the house.

  “Land sakes!” she exclaimed under her breath. “Effen it ain’ dat fool Emma an Mayme’s white frien’!”

  She turned and waddled hurriedly back into the kitchen and kept going straight through.

  “Where are you going, Josepha?” a voice said after her as she went by.

  “T
o da cellar, Mistress McSimmons,” answered Josepha without slowing down.

  “What for?”

  “I … got ter git sumfin I lef ’ down dere da other day. I’s be back up in er jiffy.”

  As fast as she dared Josepha opened the door. The cool dank air of the cellar met her face. Closing the door behind her, she inched down the narrow stairway into the darkness, each step groaning beneath her weight. When she reached the earthen floor, she took a match from her pocket, struck it on a stone, and held it in front of her, looking for a candle. But before she could find one, two figures suddenly approached through the thin light at the far end from the outside door by which they had entered.

  “Tarnashun!” she exclaimed in a loud whisper. “Where’d you two come from!—Emma, you guttersnipe, whatchu doin’ here? Da master’s like ter kill you effen he finds you! He been lookin’ high en’ low fer you, an da mistress, she be as mad as a cornered coon on account er you.”

  “Please, Josepha,” said Katie, “we came back to find out what they’ve done with Mayme. Where is she?”

  Josepha looked away. But Katie had seen the fear in her eyes at the question.

  “Where is she, Josepha?” she repeated.

  “Dey had her in da icehouse all day yesterday,” she said. “But den dis mo’nin’ I hear’d dem sayin’ dat da whuppin’s wasn’t doin’ no good an’ dat dere wuz only one way ter make a stubborn nigger loosen up his tongue.”

  “And what was that, Josepha?”

  Again Josepha looked away.

  “Josepha,” said Katie, reaching out and forcing the large black woman’s face back in front of her, “I want you to tell me what they meant.”

  “I’m feared, Miz Kathleen,” she said as tears filled her eyes, “I’m mighty feared dey wuz fixin’ ter take her out to da big oak.”

  Emma gasped. “Da big oak!” she whispered.

  Katie glanced around and saw Emma’s eyes as big as plates and filled with terror.

  “What is it?” said Katie.

  “Come wiff me, Miz Katie. We gotter git outer here!”

  “If Mayme’s at something called the big oak, then that’s where we’re going too. Do you know where it is, Emma?”