A Day to Pick Your Own Cotton (26 page)
Why would a little girl who had never seen me before hate me? I suppose I might have hated her back, but I couldn’t. The look she gave me hurt, but I couldn’t help feeling sorry for her, ’cause I knew what that hatred was going to do to her inside—it was going to spoil all the good things that might have grown in her heart instead.
“Thank you,” I tried to say, but my throat was so dry my voice sounded like the croaking of a frog.
She just looked at me without replying, then turned and walked back up the stairs, then the door closed behind her.
A few hours later it opened again. This time I knew it was no little girl coming down the stairs ’cause I heard heavy footsteps and his voice. I glanced up and shuddered to see that he held a whip in his hand.
“On your feet!” said William McSimmons. He grabbed me and dragged me up out of the icehouse. I cried out because he’d twisted my arm and it felt like he’d almost broken it.
He pulled what remained of my torn dress off my shoulders again.
“I’ll give you one more chance to tell me where she is,” he said.
“Please, master,” I said, “I’m telling you God’s truth—I left here that day those men on horses killed everyone at the slave village. I had gone for water and they didn’t see me. I ran and ran. I didn’t know what direction I was going. I didn’t see anybody else. I thought everyone was dead. I thought you and the master were dead. That’s why I didn’t come back. That’s the honest truth—I saw no one.”
“You’re lying!” he shouted. “Maybe you ran away like you say. But you’ve got to know where she is now! So tell me!”
“I’m sorry, sir … please, I don’t know.”
He erupted with even more fury than the day before, and a minute later I fell senseless in a faint on the dirt, blood covering my back. The last thing I remember was the sound of his boots kicking me back down the steps and then tramping back up. Then my brain went black.
How long I was out, I don’t know. It might have been midafternoon when I gradually began to come to myself in an agony of throbbing and burning torment. I don’t know what hell is going to be like, but if it’s anything like what I felt that day, I pity the folks who wind up there. I heard voices above me outside again. Men’s voices mixed with evil laughter.
“He said I could have her first.”
“… make it fast, then … I’m next and … got to get back to work …”
There was more low laughter, then the door opened and again light flooded the icehouse. As I came more fully back to myself I saw that a man was coming down. I struggled to pull the top of my dress and underclothes back up around my shoulders and breasts.
“Don’t mind all that, missy,” said the man with a lecherous grin, “you won’t be needing it.”
He knelt down beside me and began pulling my clothes off, fondling me and moving his hands all over me as he forced me onto my back. I winced in pain when my whipped back scraped against the hard dirt floor.
Then he started to take his trousers off, and I knew he was about to rape me.
Suddenly I heard an angry voice from above us.
“Get up and come out of there!” cried a woman’s voice. The man turned around. Beyond him I saw the silhouette of a tall form in the light from the opening of the door. It was the mistress.
“Get out!” she repeated. “I don’t care if she’s trash, I’ll have none of your evil, disgusting games at my home. Get out, and the rest of you,” she said to some others who must have been standing nearby, “leave her alone. If she’s going to meet her end, let it be in the way we deal with coloreds. If I see any more of this, I’ll kill you myself.”
Somehow the men seemed to know that she meant it. The man stood, pulled up his trousers, and left the icehouse. Again the door closed. I pulled my clothes back over myself and started to cry.
This time I couldn’t stop.
I didn’t see or hear from anyone else the whole rest of the day or night.
A
LETA WAS YOUNG AND WASN’T REALLY AWARE
of the implications of what was happening, but as the day wore on Katie grew more and more worried about me. She knew that the more time that passed, the worse the outcome was likely to be.
Emma sensed it too. Katie said she was quieter and more thoughtful all that day. She knew they were looking for her and that whatever was happening to me was on account of her.
Slowly the day passed, then the evening, and finally they went to bed again, more worried than ever about me.
The next morning after they’d eaten breakfast, Emma said she was going to go outside and take a bath.
“Can I hold William?” asked Aleta.
Emma looked at her in surprise.
“I reckon so, Miz Aleta. He probably be ’bout ready fer sleep. His tummy’s full er milk.”
“Can I take him into the parlor and rock him in the rocking chair?”
“Yes’m, Miz Aleta. Dat be fine. Jes’ put a towel under him in case he make a mess from one end or da other.”
Katie went out with Emma to help her get the water to bathe in the washtub. When she was finished and drying up, Katie went back into the house. As she entered the kitchen she heard the soft sound of singing coming from the parlor. Slowly she stole across the kitchen floor to the door.
There sat Aleta slowly rocking William and quietly singing.
“Day is dying in the west, angels watching over me, my Lord.
Sleep my child and take your rest, angels watching over me.
All night, all day … angels watching over me, my Lord.
All night, all day … angels watching over me.
Now I lay me down to sleep, angels watching over me, my Lord.
Pray the Lord my soul to keep, angels watching over me.
All night, all day … angels watching over me, my Lord.
All night, all day … angels watching over me.”
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.
K
ATIE 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.”