‘‘My uncle’s Mayme’s father,’’ said Katie. ‘‘—Mayme,’’ she said, turning again to me, ‘‘Mr. Paxton will be spending the night with us. He came down with me and we—’’
Suddenly it dawned on me what Katie had said.
‘‘But what about Papa?’’ I blurted out. ‘‘Did you find him?’’
‘‘Yes,’’ said Katie. ‘‘He’s safe, and Uncle Ward stayed with him to make sure nothing will happen while I’m gone. We’re trying to get him out. I’ll tell you all about it. In the meantime, can you have Josepha fix up the sofa in the parlor . . . and is there anything to eat?’’
‘‘Yes. I’ll get started right away!’’ I said, turning toward the house.
‘‘Mayme,’’ said Katie behind me, ‘‘are Henry and Jeremiah still here?’’
‘‘Yes,’’ I said. ‘‘They just went to bed a little while ago. They’re in the barn . . . oh, here comes Jeremiah,’’ I added. Hearing the horses, Jeremiah was just now coming from the barn to see if everything was all right.
Katie turned. ‘‘Hi, Jeremiah,’’ she said, ‘‘would you mind taking care of our horses?’’
‘‘Sho’ thing, Miz Katie.’’
I hurried toward the house as Katie introduced Jeremiah to the deputy. I was greeted with a dozen curious questions from Emma and Josepha, who had been watching. But I doubt their curiosity was anything like Mr. Paxton’s at riding into a great big Southern plantation full of black people. In all Katie’s descriptions of Rosewood and all about the rest of us, and in telling him what she and I had done together, she had never thought to mention to him that we were all colored!
When he walked into the kitchen with Katie a few minutes later, and we saw the gun on his hip, Emma’s eyes got real big, and I think she was scared for a minute or two. He and Katie sat down at the table, and as they began to eat, everybody began to get used to each other. Pretty soon Henry and Jeremiah came in too.
‘‘Da horses is put up, Miz Kathleen,’’ said Henry. ‘‘We put yo bags on da porch. Anyfing mo we kin do fo’ you?’’
‘‘No, Henry,’’ said Katie. ‘‘Would you like to sit down?— Thank you so much for being here while I was gone.’’
‘‘Don’ menshun it, Miz Kathleen.’’
‘‘This is Deputy Paxton, Henry.—Rob, this is our good friend Henry, Jeremiah’s father.’’
‘‘Pleezed ter make yer ’quaintance, Mr. Paxton,’’ said Henry.
‘‘We’re going to have to leave again, Henry,’’ said Katie. ‘‘I hope you won’t mind staying another few days?’’
‘‘Not at all, Miz Kathleen.’’
‘‘Has my uncle Burchard been around?’’
‘‘He jus’ came wiff two men da day after yo lef ’ an’ took anudder ob his wagons away, but dat’s all. Ain’t seen hide er hair ob him since dat.’’
‘‘Did he say anything?’’
‘‘No, Miz Kathleen, he jus’ scowled at me an’ den went about his bizness.’’
Katie seemed relieved. As they ate, Katie explained to us what had happened. Before long the kitchen was filled with talk and questions and laughter.
When they were through, Katie and the deputy went back outside to get their things. As they left the kitchen I heard him whisper to her.
‘‘You didn’t tell me they were all black,’’ he said.
‘‘Didn’t I?’’ said Katie. ‘‘I guess I didn’t think about it.’’
‘‘How could you not think about it?’’
‘‘I don’t know. I don’t think about them as black.’’
‘‘And that’s really . . . your cousin? When . . . telling me about her . . . thought she was white. How does she come—’’
But then the door closed and I didn’t hear anything else. He didn’t sound upset at finding out Katie lived with black people, just surprised. According to the Northern newspapers, this wasn’t the way it was on Southern plantations!
HAPPY BEDTIME
36
BY THE TIME KATIE HAD EATEN AND CLEANED UP and everybody was heading off to bed, and our new guest was in the parlor and Henry and Jeremiah were back outside in the barn, some of Katie’s energy was coming back. We decided to sleep in the same room together like we used to.
I was full of questions! I could tell by the gleam in Katie’s eyes that she wasn’t ready to go to sleep yet either. A good meal and being home seemed to revive her a bit.
‘‘We stayed with Rob’s family in Baltimore last night, Mayme,’’ Katie told me as soon as the door closed behind us and we were alone in her room. ‘‘It was a big house—even bigger than this. They were so nice to me! Mr. Paxton’s a famous minister.’’
‘‘But what’s he like?’’ I said as we snuggled under the blankets after the lantern was down. ‘‘The one you came with called Rob. He’s handsome.’’
‘‘I know,’’ giggled Katie. ‘‘When I saw him when Uncle Ward and I walked into the sheriff ’s office, at first I couldn’t keep my eyes off him. He was about the handsomest young man I had ever seen!’’
‘‘And you called him by his given name!’’
‘‘He wanted me to.’’
‘‘How old is he?’’ I asked.
‘‘I don’t know,’’ said Katie. ‘‘What do you think, Mayme?’’
‘‘He’s older than us.’’
‘‘He’d have to be if he is a deputy.’’
‘‘He must be twenty-one or twenty-two.’’
‘‘That’s a lot older,’’ said Katie in a disappointed tone.
‘‘Not so much,’’ I said. ‘‘Girls marry men that much older than them all the time.’’
‘‘Marry!’’ exclaimed Katie, laughing. ‘‘Who’s talking about getting married?’’
‘‘Nobody,’’ I laughed. ‘‘I was just saying it, that’s all.’’
‘‘I hardly know him!’’
‘‘I bet you got to know him pretty well riding all that way alone on the train.’’
‘‘That was nice,’’ said Katie dreamily. I could tell she was getting sleepy again. ‘‘He was so kind and polite. I’ve never talked to a boy like that, Mayme—do you think I should call him a boy or a man?’’
‘‘I don’t know—he sure looks like a man to me, wearing that gun and all. How can he be a minister’s son?’’
‘‘He told me all about it. Oh, Mayme, we talked and talked about everything. He told me all about his family and I told him about what had happened to mine and about you and me—’’
‘‘But you didn’t tell him I was colored?’’ I laughed.
‘‘I forgot. When I think about you, Mayme, I don’t think about the color of your skin. I don’t think about color at all. You’re just . . . Mayme. But I still want to know if he’s a boy or a man. What are we, Mayme . . . are we girls or women?’’
‘‘I reckon we’re a little of both,’’ I said.
‘‘How can that be?’’
‘‘Because it takes a while to grow out of being a girl to grow into being a woman. So we have to be a little of both for a while.’’
‘‘You’re so smart.’’
It was quiet a minute.
‘‘I don’t feel like a woman, Mayme,’’ said Katie. ‘‘I feel like a girl.’’
‘‘You don’t look like one, Katie.’’
‘‘Right now I feel like a little girl with my mama here beside me to take care of me.’’
‘‘We’re friends, Katie—I’m sure not your mama! Besides, you take care of things around here, not me. You’re the mistress of Rosewood. Emma treats you like you’re her mama.’’
‘‘She does, doesn’t she?’’ said Katie. ‘‘She’s a dear. I guess Josepha’s like all of our mamas . . . well, not mine—I’m too white, but you know what I mean. But I still feel like a little girl.’’
‘‘You almost look like a grown woman. You are so beautiful, Katie.’’
‘‘Mayme, stop it!’’
‘‘But you are. And shap
ely too. I bet he’s down there right now in the parlor, Mr. Paxton I mean, thinking about you too, because of how pretty you are.’’
‘‘Mayme!’’
We lay in contented quiet a few minutes. I could hear Katie’s breathing getting deeper and deeper. I thought she was asleep and was surprised when she spoke again.
‘‘What about Jeremiah?’’ she said in a soft voice. ‘‘Did you and he talk or do anything when I was gone?’’
‘‘We talked a couple of times,’’ I said. ‘‘But mostly he went into town every day to tend the livery so Henry could stay out here.’’
‘‘Are you . . . I mean—do you think you and he will get married, Mayme?’’ Katie asked. The question was so blunt it surprised me.
‘‘I . . . I don’t know,’’ I answered. ‘‘Sometimes I think so.’’ Again it was quiet.
‘‘I think he loves you,’’ Katie went on. ‘‘I can see it when he looks at you.’’
I felt my cheeks and neck flush with heat. I guess down inside I knew Katie was right. I’d seen that look on Jeremiah’s face too.
‘‘Do you love him, Mayme?’’ she asked.
‘‘I don’t know,’’ I answered. ‘‘Sometimes I think I do, then sometimes I don’t know. When we’re alone and he takes my hand, that’s when I’m sure I love him. But then when I think about getting married, I get afraid and I don’t know. Sometimes I get so confused I don’t know if I even know what love means. I don’t know if I would know what love felt like if I was in love. Do you know what I mean?’’
‘‘I think so,’’ said Katie. Her voice was so soft I could barely hear it. ‘‘But I’ve never been in love, so I don’t know. I’m just a girl, Mayme, remember? I’m too young to be in love. . . .’’
‘‘I don’t think you’re too young anymore, Katie,’’ I said.
But I could tell by the change in her breathing that she had fallen asleep.
WARD PLEADS TEMPLETON’ S CASE
37
THE NEXT MORNING IT ALMOST FELT LIKE NORMAL again. Katie’s uncle Burchard was gone and that was a relief. Well, normal except for Deputy Paxton and Henry and Jeremiah all being there!
As soon as breakfast was over, Katie got Emma and Josepha and me together and sat us down to talk to us.
‘‘I’m sorry to have to do this,’’ she began, looking around at us almost like she was nervous, ‘‘but Uncle Templeton is in jail because he swindled a man out of some money.’’
‘‘How’d he do dat, Miz Katie?’’ asked Emma.
‘‘I’m not sure exactly. I think he sold a man some land for more than it was worth.’’
‘‘Way I hear it, folks is always doin’ dat, effen dey kin git away wiff it,’’ said Josepha.
‘‘I don’t know,’’ said Katie. ‘‘I think he might have lied about it too. He went back there to try to come clean about it. Whatever he did, it was against the law because they put him in jail for it. And if we’re going to get him out, we have to try to pay the man back as much of the money as we can.’’
Katie hesitated. ‘‘I know it doesn’t seem right of me to ask,’’ she went on, ‘‘but . . . that money I gave you the day Uncle Burchard and Mr. Sneed—’’
Josepha didn’t even wait for her to finish.
‘‘Laws, chil’,’’ she said, getting up out of her chair, ‘‘I jes’ been waitin’ ter gib it back! I ain’t got no use fer no money like dat.’’ She walked toward the pantry. ‘‘Speshully since it ain’t mine nohow. Made me as jumpy as a flea on a houn’ dog just thinkin’ ’bout dat money. I jes’ been hidin’ it here. . . .’’
She paused and we heard her rummaging through some boxes and cans. She came out a minute later holding the money Katie had given her.
‘‘—Can’t think ob anythin’ better fer it den effen it’d help Mr. Templeton git back here where he belongs.’’
She set the fifty-five dollars down on the table in front of Katie.
‘‘Thank you, Josepha,’’ said Katie with a smile.
Emma and I jumped up and ran to our rooms. Two minutes later each of our fifty-five dollars sat in two piles on the table with Josepha’s.
‘‘Thank you . . . thank you all,’’ said Katie. ‘‘I wish I hadn’t had to ask. But I don’t know how else we’re going to get him free.’’
‘‘It’s yo money, not ours, Miz Kathleen,’’ said Josepha.
‘‘But I gave it to you.’’
‘‘Ain’t no mo use talkin’ ’bout it, Miz Kathleen. You gib it to us, an’ now we gib it back an’ dat’s dat, an’ you take it an’ git dat uncle er yers back.’’
‘‘When does you hab ter go back dere, Miz Katie?’’ asked Emma.
‘‘As soon as we can, Emma. We’ve got to take this money, and all that I’ve got left too, to the sheriff.’’
‘‘You goin’ today, Miz Katie?’’
‘‘Probably early tomorrow morning, Emma. We have to ride into Charlotte in time to catch a train at ten o’clock. We’ll have to leave here at daybreak.’’
Meanwhile, back up north, Uncle Ward had gone to see the man called Roscoe. He told us all about it later. The minute he said his name, an unfriendly look came over the rancher’s face.
‘‘Daniels,’’ he repeated. ‘‘You any kin to that varmint who’s sitting in jail in town for swindling me?’’
‘‘He’s my brother.’’
‘‘Then, get out! I got no business with the likes of you.’’
‘‘Hold on just a minute, Roscoe,’’ said Mr. Daniels. ‘‘I’m here to try to help.’’
‘‘Help . . . how? What do you mean?’’
‘‘My brother wants to make it right with you. I came to see if we could work something out.’’
‘‘Look, mister, he swindled me. He sold me a piece of worthless land, claimed there was gold on it. Phonied the reports, showed me bits of rock with gold in it. The likes of him come from California and think we’re a bunch of bumblers and that gold will turn a man’s head. And maybe it does. But we take a man’s word as meaning something around here. Ain’t no way I can see to make right what that brother of yours done.’’
‘‘What if we was to buy that piece of land back from you?’’
The rancher eyed him skeptically. ‘‘You’d do that?’’ he said.
‘‘I don’t know—that’s what we figured on trying to do. But my brother’s broke. The money’s all gone.’’
‘‘I thought as much. Get out. He can rot in jail for all I care!’’
‘‘Now, just hold on a minute, Roscoe. How much you figure that land’s worth? Really worth, I mean, for your cattle or whatever you want to use it for.’’
‘‘A mite hilly for cattle.’’
‘‘Well, for anything else, then.’’
‘‘You mean a fair price?’’
‘‘Right.’’
‘‘I don’t know, probably a couple hundred . . . maybe two-fifty.’’
‘‘What did you pay Templeton for it?’’
‘‘A thousand.’’
‘‘So you figure he swindled you out of eight hundred?’’
‘‘Something like that.’’
‘‘What if we was to give you two hundred, maybe three— cash money?’’
‘‘Ain’t nowhere close to eight? I’d still be out five hundred.’’
‘‘Right now you’re out eight hundred, ain’t that it?’’
Roscoe nodded.
‘‘Couldn’t you use three hundred dollars?’’
‘‘Sure, who couldn’t?’’
‘‘It’s more’n you’re going to get with Templeton sitting in jail. And what if we was to promise to pay back the whole thousand when we could and take the land back?’’
‘‘You think I’d take his promise as worth anything?’’
‘‘He’s changed, I tell you. He’s determined to make up for the wrong he’s done.’’
‘‘What’d he do, get religion or something—trying to atone for his sins?’’
‘‘Something like that. But we didn’t get religion, I reckon you’d say we got family. What’s that to you anyway? We got our reasons. So I’m asking if the up-front cash money might tell you that we mean what we say?’’
Roscoe thought a minute. ‘‘I reckon you got a point there,’’ he said.
‘‘Then when it’s all done and we’ve paid you back the thousand, if you still want the land, you can buy it back at a price you think is fair. You set the price.’’
The rancher thought again.
‘‘I reckon that’s a pretty fair offer all right, though I still got no guarantee I’d ever see the two of you again if I drop the charges?’’
‘‘Maybe you wouldn’t,’’ said Mr. Daniels. ‘‘You’re right, you’d have no guarantee. Maybe you’d have to trust us at our word. But you’d have the cash in your hand regardless, which is more than you got now.’’
‘‘Yep, I reckon that’s right. So what you want me to do?’’
‘‘My brother wants to talk to you. He told me to ask you to come see him in town.’’
MAKING AMENDS
38
THE MAN ROSCOE WALKED DOWN THE CORRIDOR toward my papa’s jail cell, already feeling a lot less angry than earlier because of the visit Katie’s uncle Ward had paid him. But he still eyed my papa a little warily as the sheriff opened the cell door.
‘‘Thanks for coming, Roscoe,’’ said my papa, standing up and offering his hand.
‘‘Your brother said you wanted to see me, though I was pretty riled at you.’’
‘‘You had a right to be.’’
‘‘I didn’t particularly want to come.’’
‘‘I wouldn’t have blamed you if you hadn’t,’’ said my papa. ‘‘Ward tell you what we had in mind?’’
‘‘He said something about your buying back the land you took me for. I figured I oughta come see if that’s on the level.’’
‘‘It’s on the level, all right. We’ll buy it back.’’
‘‘He also said you’re broke.’’
‘‘Well, that’s true,’’ sighed my father. ‘‘But I got a family now who loves me enough to put up all they got as a good-faith start on getting you your money. That’s my brother and my niece. They figure they can raise about three hundred.’’
Together is All We Need Page 16
