A Perilous Proposal (24 page)

“Shush, Emma! We're
not
going to let them kill Mayme.”

“No, we ain't,” added Jeremiah, anger rising in his voice. “I'm goin' t' git one ob dose guns!”

“Just a minute, Jeremiah!” said Katie. “We've got to think first.—I wonder why some of them are wearing white hoods over their heads.”

“I heard ob it,” said Jeremiah. “Some kind er white man's religious thing.”

“What should we do, Jeremiah?” asked Katie.

“I don't reckon I kin shoot 'em all,” he said. “Dere's too many. To tell you da truf, I neber shot a gun like dis in my life, an' I don' know if I could kill a man—”

When his memory caught up with his words, a chill went through him even as he added, “—eben effen he's white.”

“We don't have to kill anybody,” said Katie. “We can just try to make them think we are. It's a trick Mayme showed me.—Let's get the guns.”

They ran to the horses and pulled out the rifles.

Quickly Katie explained as she and Jeremiah each took a handful of shells. Then they split up.

A minute later, from where she was hiding in the trees, Katie fired a shot over the heads of the men.

She'd forgotten what a kick the gun had. It knocked her backward and she nearly lost her balance. Emma cried out from the sound as Katie steadied herself and fired again. Then
came the sound of Jeremiah's first shot.

As the echo died away, Katie fired again, then a few seconds later heard three or four more shots in rapid succession come from Jeremiah's gun.

Surprised and confused, the men yelled and swore as they looked about.

Katie fired again. A loud curse sounded. She'd accidentally hit William McSimmons in the leg!

“Let's get out of here!” he cried. “She's practically dead now anyway—we'll let the tree finish the job!”

He gave the horse Mayme was sitting on a great swat with his whip. The horse lurched forward and ran straight out from under Mayme as McSimmons galloped away after the others.

Katie's first thought was elation. Then she saw Mayme dangling from the tree with the rope tight around her neck!

“Mayme!” she screamed. She dropped the rifle on the ground and ran toward the tree.

Jeremiah came out of the woods and ran after her.

“Jeremiah!” cried Katie. “Go back and bring the horses! Hurry, Jeremiah!”

“Mayme . . . Mayme!” called Katie, tears filling her eyes. “Mayme, we're here now—we're going to help you.”

But when she reached the tree, she realized there was nothing she could do. Mayme's hands were tied behind her back and the rope was pressing so hard against her windpipe that she couldn't make a sound.

“Mayme . . . Mayme . . . oh, Mayme—God, help me!” Katie cried frantically, grabbing her friend's feet where they dangled up in the air almost as high as her shoulders. She tried to lift Mayme's legs to take the pressure off her neck. But Mayme was so close to unconsciousness that she was just hanging limp.

By then Jeremiah was racing toward them on one of the horses, followed by Emma pulling the second by the reins.

Jeremiah reined in and walked the horse forward to get it under Mayme. At the same time he was fumbling with his hands trying to grab hold of her.

“Mayme . . . Mayme, sit up on the horse!” cried Katie from the ground.

While Jeremiah tried to steady the horse, Katie tried to push Mayme's legs over its back. But in the confusion the horse kept moving about and Jeremiah couldn't get it to stay still. All the while Mayme was hanging there like dead weight with her neck stretching further and further.

“Emma,” cried Katie, “the knife! Get the knife. It's in the saddlebag. Climb up the tree and cut the rope!”

A minute later Emma was scurrying up the trunk with the help of a few low limbs while Katie kept lifting Mayme's legs and Jeremiah was trying to hold her up around the waist to take the weight off her neck.

“Be careful, Emma,” cried Katie. “Don't fall—but hurry!”

Ten or fifteen seconds later the rope gave way from Emma's knife. Mayme dropped into Jeremiah's arms. But the sudden weight of her body made him lose his balance and they both fell into a heap on the ground. Frantically Katie struggled to loosen the noose around her neck.

“Mayme . . . oh, Mayme!” said Katie, smothering her friend's face with kisses. “Please God . . . oh, Mayme, don't be dead!”

Slowly Mayme's eyelids fluttered open and Katie went wild with joy.

“Oh, Mayme!” she cried.

Mayme opened her eyes a little wider and tried to force a feeble smile to her lips. Emma and Katie began crying, but Mayme didn't seem to have the strength to cry. She just lay there. She glanced over to where Jeremiah knelt behind the girls. He smiled at her and she tried to smile back.

“Dose men be boun' ter come back before long,” said Jeremiah.
“If dey fin' dat we spoiled dere lynchin', dey's like ter string up all three ob us.”

“You're right,” said Katie, “we've got to get out of here.”

They got Mayme to her feet. Jeremiah lifted her onto one of the horses. She winced as he did so, biting her lip to keep from crying out. He tried his best to be gentle. He knew she was hurting from the cuts and bruises. He wondered if she had broken bones too.

“Jeremiah,” said Katie. “You're stronger than me. You ride with Mayme and keep her in the saddle.”

He climbed up behind Mayme, putting his arms around her to grab on to the saddle horn. But it was all he could do to keep Mayme in the saddle, limp and exhausted as she was.

Katie mounted the other horse, pulled Emma up behind her, and the horses galloped away. After riding about twenty minutes, Mayme began to slump and collapse in Jeremiah's arms. Realizing she needed a rest, he slowed and he and Katie began looking for a place they could stop for water.

When Katie and Jeremiah helped Mayme down off the horse she nearly collapsed at the river's edge.

“Water . . .” she tried to say, “. . . thirsty.”

Katie ran to the river, took off her bonnet, scooped it full of water, and hurried back to Mayme. She helped her sit up and held the water to her lips before most of it soaked through the cloth to the ground. But Mayme managed two or three swallows.

Katie went back and after a few minutes had managed to get some water into Mayme's stomach and to wash her face.

Mayme smiled faintly. “Thank you,” she whispered.

“Oh, Mayme,” Katie said, “it breaks my heart to see you so weak!”

She embraced her. Mayme stretched her arms around Katie and they held each other for the longest time. Mayme reached toward Emma and the girl came forward and embraced Mayme too. Jeremiah saw Mayme cringe as Emma threw her arms around her back. Then Mayme smiled at Jeremiah again, likely too worn out to wonder what he was doing there with the others.

“I feel better now,” Mayme said. “I've hardly had anything to eat or drink in two days. I was just feeling faint.”

“Then let's get you home,” said Katie.

When at last the white buildings of Rosewood appeared in the distance, Jeremiah heard Mayme sigh with happiness. He followed her gaze as Mayme looked over at Katie. Katie's eyes were wet with tears.

“Welcome home, Mayme,” she said.

Jeremiah got down and carried Mayme toward the house. Katie led the way inside and up the stairs. A minute or two later Mayme was lying on the bed while everyone scurried about fetching water for the tub and talking about getting some food and liquid inside her.

Jeremiah stood in the kitchen, watching all the commotion. It was plain that Katie's mother wasn't anywhere around, and that there wasn't sign of any other grown-up either. Katie was clearly mistress of the place.

Katie walked over to Jeremiah and led him outside.

“I don't know how to thank you, Jeremiah,” said Katie. “I couldn't have done it without you.”

“I'm jest glad Miz Mayme's safe,” he said, “an' dat I could help.”

“Please . . .” began Katie after a few seconds, “you won't tell . . . will you? Someday . . . maybe we can explain what is going on here. But for now, nobody can know.”

He stood looking at the serious expression on Katie's face.

“I reckon I can do dat, Miz Clairborne,” said Jeremiah slowly. “'Tis mighty strange, I gotter say, seein' coloreds an'
whites livin' in a big house like dat t'gether. But I reckon I can keep my mouf shut fer a spell. But ya'll tell me someday, I hope, 'cause you got me mighty curious.”

“I will try to,” said Katie with a relieved smile. “Thank you, Jeremiah.—Do you mind walking back to town? I'd let you take one of the horses, or ride you in myself, but . . .”

“Don' mention it, Miz Clairborne,” said Jeremiah. “Dat'll give my pa an' dose other folks in town dat was watchin' us a chance ter settle down an' ferget what dey seen. I'll jest sneak in a roun'bout way so no one sees me.”

“Maybe you're right,” said Katie. “Thank you again!”

N
EW
B
OY IN
T
OWN

33

W
ORD OF COURSE GOT AROUND TOWN ABOUT
“Henry's boy,” especially after his gallop through town on the back of Katie's horse. But all it did was bring Jeremiah more to the attention of the kind of young whites that were up to no good. That Jeremiah was alone made him an easy target for their rowdy pranks and insults. And that he was free and was working at a man's job, and receiving good pay from a white man for a job some of them might have wanted but would have been too lazy to keep, irritated them all the more.

A seventeen-year-old boy called Deke Steeves was the worst of the troublemakers. By himself Jake could have whipped him with one hand behind his back. But Deke was the kind of boy who took pleasure in making other people, especially if they were black, suffer. And he made sure that he was never alone. Being big for his age, and a bully, young Steeves always attracted a crowd of younger admirers whenever he was on the prowl.

On one particular day, Steeves and his small following had been roaming about town with little to do. Deke himself was in a surly mood. His father had yelled at him earlier in the day and now Deke was on the hunt for someone weaker than
himself to take out his anger on. A few minutes earlier, he and his cohorts had seen an elderly Negro woman coming out of Mrs. Hammond's store and swooped down upon her. That's when Jeremiah caught sight of them.

He broke into a run toward the scene. As he drew closer he saw that they were tossing pebbles and small stones at her. She was pleading with them to stop, but her cries only encouraged them the more and brought jeers and cruel taunts along with them.

Jake stooped down, grabbed up a half dozen good-sized rocks from the street, then ran forward until he was close enough to make sure he would hit them and not her. He began to hurl the stones at the biggest of the white boys. Two or three found their marks, one small rock directly on the back of Deke Steeves' head. He cried out in pain, swore a few times, then backed away. The younger cowards followed his lead and ran across the street. Jeremiah scooped up another handful and kept up a volley of stones until they were out of sight.

As soon as she was safe, Jake hurried to the old woman's side.

“Did dey hurt you, Miz Barton?” he asked.

“No, I's be fine now, young man,” she said. “But dey's a troublesum lot, dose nickums.”

She paused and looked at her defender a little more carefully.

“Ain't you ol' Henry's boy I heard 'bout?”

“Dat's me, Miz Barton.”

“Henry's a good man. He's been er big help ter me.”

Jeremiah nodded. “I's jes' walk you back partway ter yo place,” he said. “I got me a feelin' dose bullies still might be roun'bout sumplace.”

“Dat right nice er you. What dey call you?”

“My papa calls me Jeremiah. My mama used ter call me Jake after I got big enuff dat I weren't jes' a little tyke. I
didn't like the Jeremiah fo a while, but I's gettin' used ter it agin.”

“I can't hardly imagine you a little tyke,” chuckled the old woman. “You's a big'un now, dat's fo sho!”

Thirty minutes later Jeremiah walked back into the mill, where he encountered Mr. Watson.

“I's sorry ter be gone so long,” he said. “I saw sum whites botherin' ol' widow Barton an' throwin' rocks at her. So I helped her home.”

Watson nodded. “I see,” he said. “Who were they, do you know, Jake?”

“One ob dem was dat blamed Steeves kid, an' a bunch er younger ones.”

Again Watson nodded, this time more seriously.

“You watch yourself, Jake,” he said. “You stay away from Deke Steeves. His father's a bad one, and so is the boy. I've heard some things I hope aren't true, but if they are . . . well, you just keep clear of him, that's all.”