Ten hours later the picking was nearly done for the day. Josepha and Emma had gone back to the house a little while before.
‘‘Why don’t you and Katie go on in and get started cleaning up,’’ said my papa. ‘‘It’s about time to call it a day. We’ll be right behind you.’’
When Katie and I got to the house, there were Josepha and Emma sitting on the porch with William, who was playing with Rusty’s ears.
‘‘That’s one patient old dog,’’ I said wearily as Katie and I sat down on the steps. We were too tired to clean up just yet. For a while it was silent as we all just sat there, except for William babbling away to Rusty. One wagon sat in the yard all loaded up and ready to be taken in to the mill the next morning. Beyond it we found ourselves gazing in the distance at the field we’d just come from, by now about half picked.
‘‘That’s some sight, isn’t it?’’ said Katie with a quiet smile.
‘‘What are you looking at?’’ I asked, trying to follow her eyes.
‘‘The men,’’ she said.
‘‘What about them?’’
‘‘That’s our field, Mayme,’’ said Katie. ‘‘Don’t you remember the first year when it was just you and me out there picking our cotton?’’
‘‘And me,’’ Emma piped up.
‘‘Of course,’’ laughed Katie. ‘‘I meant you too. And Aleta. Then Henry came and started helping. And then last year both Henry and Jeremiah helped, and even Uncle Templeton worked as much as he could after his injury. But now look at it. Here we are sitting on the porch, and there are four men out there picking our cotton together.’’
‘‘Dey’s good men, all right,’’ said Josepha. ‘‘I seen lots er men in my time, an’ dere be plenty ob bad men in dis ol’ worl’. So we’s mighty lucky ladies ter hab four strong men like dat who’s good men besides.’’
‘‘Our men,’’ said Katie. ‘‘Don’t you like the sound of that? Just seeing them like that, and knowing we’re not alone anymore, makes me feel safe somehow.’’
‘‘Dat Henry, he’s ’bout one ob da finest colored men I’ve eber knowed, jes’ like his son is too,’’ Josepha went on. ‘‘And dem two uncles er yers, Miz Katie, dey’re da kindest white men tard me I eber knowed. Dey don’ eben seem ter act like dey knows we’s colored at all.’’
We didn’t know it as we sat there, but out in the fields the men were thinking about us too. They had just reached the end of the row they had been working on, then paused and stood up straight to stretch and straighten their backs.
‘‘Anyone ready to call it a day?’’ asked Uncle Ward.
‘‘I’s been ready fo’ a couple er rows,’’ said Henry with a chuckle.
‘‘If I’d known that, I’d have sent the girls in an hour ago!’’ laughed Templeton.
‘‘I din’t want ter be da one ter say’t,’’ Henry added. ‘‘I ain’t so shure I like da noshun er a couple er green pickers workin’ harder’n me an’ showin’ me up!’’
‘‘Now I know you’re making sport of us!’’ laughed Uncle Ward as Henry went on chuckling.
‘‘No’suh, Mr. Ward,’’ he said. ‘‘I may er made jes’ a little joke, but you an’ Mr. Templeton’s jes’ ’bout da fastes’ white men I eben seen wiff da cotton. Dat’s why we’s gettin’ hit in so fas’. We’s goin’ twice as fas’ as las’ year.’’
‘‘All I knows is dat ef we’s all ready, why we be standin’ roun’ talkin’?’’ Jeremiah now said. ‘‘Why don’ we get outer dis field an’ see what da women hab waitin’ fo’ us?’’
The four men turned, full satchels slung over their shoulders, and began making their way, side by side, toward the house.
‘‘I’m afraid I have some bad news for you, Jeremiah,’’ said Templeton when they were about halfway back to the house.
‘‘What dat?’’
‘‘I don’t think the women have anything waiting for us! Look at them,’’ he added with a laugh, ‘‘—they’re all just sitting there on the porch staring at us.’’
‘‘ ’Peers dat’s what dey’s doin, all right,’’ said Henry.
‘‘But I’m hungry!’’ moaned Jeremiah.
‘‘Den maybe we dun worked ’em too hard,’’ said his father.
‘‘I doubt that,’’ said Ward. ‘‘It’s all I can do to keep up with Mary Ann and Kathleen.’’
‘‘Don’ fo’git dat Josepha,’’ Henry replied. ‘‘She may not be able ter las’ so long, but w’en she’s a’pickin’, I can’t hardly eben see dose fingers er hers!’’
‘‘They’re all good workers, and that’s a fact,’’ said Templeton. ‘‘More than that—they’re good women and young ladies.
I’d say we’re a bunch of fortunate men, all right.’’
As they walked past the barn and came toward us, we could see them laughing and chatting.
‘‘What are you four talking about?’’ I said.
‘‘Oh, nothing much,’’ replied my papa with a smile.
‘‘What about you? Looks like you got no farther than the porch. And we’re hungry!’’
‘‘We just sat down and got distracted and started talking.’’
‘‘What about?’’
‘‘Nothing in particular—just the cotton.’’
‘‘Yeah, that’s what we were talking about too.’’
THE LOOSE COW
47
ONE DAY IN THE MIDDLE OF THE COTTON HARVESTING, Uncle Ward left the field and went back toward the barn to use the outhouse. Emma was outside hanging some wash up on the line while William was napping inside. Emma was singing an old field song when Ward came into the yard. But when she saw him, she stopped singing. She knew he wanted her to trust him, to be comfortable around him, but a lifetime of fearing white men didn’t disappear so easy.
When he came back out, he glanced again toward the house where Emma was still hanging clothes. Right at that moment a black-and-white cow ambled across the yard between the house and the barn almost between them. The cows had been taken out to graze in one of the grass fields hours earlier, and yet there was one of them wandering along not fifty feet from the back door of the house!
‘‘What the . . .’’ began Uncle Ward. He glanced about quickly, wondering if others had got loose too or if it was just the one.
‘‘Emma!’’ he called. ‘‘Get over there and block the road.’’
Surprised, Emma called out to the cow, ‘‘Where you come from? Dis ain’t where you belong.’’ She set down the clothes basket and started walking in the direction Uncle Ward was pointing.
But the cow was already a little spooked to find itself out in the middle of the road where it’d never been before. And now seeing a white man and a black girl moving toward it from opposite directions, it gave a little moo of fear and began to move faster.
‘‘Emma, quick!’’ cried Uncle Ward.
Emma dashed in the same direction it was moving to try to block the road. But though cows are generally pretty lazy and don’t do much but stand around and eat, when they put their minds to it, they can move mighty fast, and this one decided to put its mind to it. Almost the instant Emma took off from the clothesline to block the road, the ornery thing bolted straight in the direction of town and shot past her.
‘‘Hey, git back here, you dumb thing!’’ she shouted, sprinting after it.
But the cow was already past her and there was nothing she could do. If she kept running, it would too. She slowed and Uncle Ward ran up behind her.
‘‘We gotta get that stupid outfit back into the field,’’ he said, ‘‘before any more get out and get spooked and start running off in every direction.’’
‘‘What you want me ter do, Mr. Ward?’’ asked Emma.
Uncle Ward thought a few seconds, watching the cow and glancing about the surrounding fields.
‘‘You think you can circle around over there?’’ he said, pointing across the horse pasture. ‘‘You gotta go all the way to the end of the pasture, the
n toward the river, and come back around to the road on the other side of it.’’
‘‘I kin do it, Mr. Ward.’’
‘‘But you gotta go slow so it doesn’t see you and make another run for it. Try to get back onto the road just this side of the bridge. We don’t want that dumb thing falling in the river.’’
‘‘Den what I do w’en I gits dere?’’
‘‘Then you just start walking back this way. I’ll be off on the other side, and when she sees you, we’ll hope she’ll turn around and go back where she came from.’’
‘‘I’s do it, Mr. Ward,’’ said Emma, and hurried off toward the pasture, climbed the fence, and half ran, half walked perpendicular to the road until she was way on the other side of it, past the horses, then started circling toward the bridge like he’d said.
Ten minutes later, Emma had succeeded in getting to the bridge ahead of the cow, who had by this time stopped along the road and was nibbling here and there on grass between the road and the fences on both sides. Uncle Ward had gone into the field opposite the pasture and had slowly made his way past the cow too. Now they had to try to head her back the way she had come. So far they didn’t see any other cows getting out of the grazing field.
From where he was about a hundred and fifty yards away from her, Uncle Ward motioned to Emma to start walking along the road back in the direction of the house. She did, and in two or three minutes she was close enough that the cow looked up and saw her. It gave another moo that sounded like it was protesting the idea of being disturbed, then turned around and started walking back toward the house just like they wanted.
But whatever had gotten into its crazy head, this cow wasn’t being altogether cooperative on this day. It had only gone a little way when it glanced to its right and saw Uncle Ward in the field there inching his way along sort of beside it. And there was Emma in the road coming along behind it. In front of it was the road to the house, wide open without a soul in the way, and you’d think any ordinary cow would just keep walking along it. But then it glanced to the left into the horse pasture Emma’d come through to get to the bridge. And even though there was a fence in the way, that cow got it into its head to try out the grass there. Suddenly it lurched into a run, turned off the road, and ran straight for the fence. It tried to jump over but didn’t clear the fence. Its hooves hit the top rails and knocked the boards every which way. Then it ran clumsily off into the horse pasture.
‘‘After her, Emma!’’ cried Uncle Ward. ‘‘Cut her off before she stampedes the horses!’’
Emma was off in a flash, climbed the fence, then picked up her dress to her knees and tore off across the pasture in a wide arc to get behind the cow. I wish I could have seen that! Emma had long skinny legs and she could run mighty fast when she put her mind to it, like she was doing now. Uncle Ward said she was yelling at the cow as she went, though he couldn’t understand a thing she was saying.
She got to the far end of the pasture and curved around. The few horses, seeing the commotion, had begun to get a little frisky themselves. But they were still far enough away so that it didn’t do too much harm.
At the far end of the pasture there was a small pond, which now, near the end of a hot, dry summer, was pretty much a big, muddy puddle. The cow, obviously thirsty from all the running, was trying to get a drink from the little water left in it.
‘‘Come on, girl,’’ Emma said softly. ‘‘We git you back home, you’s kin have all the water you wants.’’
The cow, still nuzzling the mud in search of water, clumped farther into the puddle, sinking deep into the sticky soil.
‘‘Don’ you git stuck in dere,’’ Emma warned, carefully stepping closer. The cow looked up at Emma but didn’t move. She waved Ward over, calling in a hoarse whisper, ‘‘I think de fool thing’s stuck in dis mud.’’
Ward groaned and walked over, assessing the situation with the cow, now ankle-deep in the mud.
Ward moved toward its back. ‘‘I’ll give her a push and you stand on that side so she doesn’t take off for the river again once we get her out.’’
Ward stepped gingerly in the mud, which rose nearly to the top of his boots. His feet made a sucking sound each time he pulled them from the mud to take another step closer to the cow. The cow swung its head around to look at who was approaching but didn’t attempt to move.
‘‘Stupid outfit,’’ Ward muttered. He put both hands on her rear flank and pushed.
But the cow didn’t budge. Emma stood at the edge of the pond bed, arms outstretched, ready to shoo the cow in the opposite direction. Ward pushed again, this time leaning his whole body into the effort.
‘‘Come on, girl, git,’’ he scolded, then lifted one hand and swatted the cow on its rump.
Suddenly the cow bolted, picking up its hooves and lurching toward Emma. Ward, who had been leaning all his weight against the cow, fell face first into the mud. Emma, shrieking and trying to jump out of the path of the charging cow, lost her footing and fell on her hands and knees. The cow’s hooves splattered mud on her face and neck as it kicked its way loose of the pond.
Ward lifted himself from the mud, ‘‘You okay, Emma?’’
Emma swiped at her eyes with the back of her hand, spreading even more mud on her face. ‘‘I been worse.’’ Looking down at her hands, she said, ‘‘I been cleaner too.’’
She looked up at Ward then and asked nervously, ‘‘You’s all right, Mr. Ward? Sorry I cudn’t stop dat fool thing.’’
Ward struggled to his feet. ‘‘Not your fault, Emma. If I didn’t know better I’d say that cow wasn’t stuck at all—just wanted to teach us a lesson.’’
Emma looked at Ward’s mud-covered face and bit back a smile. ‘‘I think she did.’’
Ward reached out a hand to Emma. She looked up at him, then put her hand in his.
‘‘Look at us, Emma,’’ Ward said as he helped her to her feet. ‘‘Our hands are the same color.’’
Emma smiled shyly. ‘‘You oughta see yo face. I don’ know what color you is.’’
He chuckled. ‘‘Maybe that’s the way it should be.’’
She looked at him soberly then and nodded. ‘‘I reckon you’s right . . . Uncle Ward.’’
By now the mud-splattered Holstein was both confused and frightened, and seemed determined to keep going the wrong way. Emma ran after it again, and Uncle Ward tried to position himself to help Emma get the cow back in the direction they wanted it to go. But even tiring like it was, the cow was too fast for them. By the time they had urged it back toward the road and the hole in the fence it had just made, all three of them were about worn out.
‘‘Watch the road, Emma!’’ called out Uncle Ward. ‘‘I’ll stay here to keep her from running back into the pasture. You get back on the road to keep it from making for the bridge!’’
Emma broke off the chase and ran parallel to the road a ways, then climbed back over the fence onto the road, and started back toward them. She was now back where she had been ten minutes earlier.
‘‘All right, I’m going to walk her gently through the break in the fence,’’ called Uncle Ward. ‘‘You just stay where you are.—Hey, you!’’ he called to the cow. ‘‘Okay . . . get back through and onto the road.’’
Slowly he walked forward with his arms outstretched, and slowly the cow began to amble toward the broken part of the fence. But then it gave another moo that sounded a little more rebellious than just protesting, and suddenly bucked a few awkward times and took off running, straight through the hole and onto the road. It was just what they’d wanted.
But instead of turning toward the house, it kept going straight across the road, crashed through the fence on the opposite side, and ran off out of sight across the field.
‘‘That blamed fool outfit!’’ yelled Uncle Ward, and they both dashed after it again.
A few minutes later is when the rest of us finally found out what was going on and why Uncle Ward hadn’t come back. Suddenly we heard th
e sound of thudding feet and a frantic moo and a great big clumsy cow came wildly running through the cotton field right in the middle of us, crashing down plants and sending us scurrying to get out of the way. And there were Emma and Uncle Ward huffing along behind it.
‘‘What’s going on, Ward!’’ said Papa, half laughing as he watched the cow running away from us toward the house.
Then he started laughing all the harder when he saw Uncle Ward covered head to foot in mud.
‘‘That blamed cow got loose somehow,’’ said Uncle Ward as they stopped. ‘‘It just walked through the barnyard and then bolted for the bridge when we tried to head it off. Emma and l have been chasing it, trying to get it back into the field.’’
‘‘Without much success by the looks of it!’’
‘‘You’re right there.’’
‘‘How’d it get loose?’’
‘‘Don’t know.’’
‘‘Any other out?’’
‘‘Not that we’ve seen.’’
‘‘Well, then, we’d better get that one back in. With all of us we ought to be able to shoo it in the right direction.’’
We all set down our things, and Papa and Uncle Ward planned how to do it and where to put us all so that the cow wouldn’t have any direction to go except the way we wanted her to. Then we all took our positions and began slowly moving toward the grazing field, spreading out as we went, and keeping the cow in sight in front of us. Within ten minutes she was back inside and grazing contentedly with the rest.
A part of the fence had broken down, which was how she got through. They had Katie and me stand guard while they went back to fetch some boards and nails and wire to repair it with.
As they went, I saw Uncle Ward throw his arm around Emma’s shoulder. ‘‘Well, I guess we got that ol’ outfit back in, didn’t we, Emma?’’
‘‘Dat we did,’’ she said back. ‘‘But I don’t reckon we wuz eber gwine git it dere alone.’’
He laughed. ‘‘You might be right there,’’ he said. ‘‘But maybe we tired her out enough so that everyone else could finish the job.’’
‘‘Dat may be, Uncle Ward,’’ she said, and as she spoke I saw Emma glance up at him with a grin. ‘‘Maybe you’s right ’bout dat after all.’’
Together is All We Need Page 21
