A Day To Pick Your Own Cotton Part 8

"She put me an' William down here, Miz Mayme," she said. "Somebody came an' she had ter go wiff dem an' she put us down here so nuthin' would happen ter us or n.o.body fin' me."

"Who came, Emma ... who was it?"

"I don' know, Miz Mayme. But look what I foun' down here." She came a few steps up the ladder and held up her hand. "What is it, Miz Mayme?"

I saw a sparkle of color in her palm and reached down and took what she was holding-three heavy coins. I expect my eyes got as big as Katie's sometimes did.

"It's gold, Emma," I said. "I think these are gold."

Now I figure I oughta tell you what had happened while I was away.

ALONE AT R ROSEWOOD.

15.

THE NIGHT BEFORE I LEFT, I TOLD KATIE I'D STAY to help get the cows milked before leaving in the morning. But she said she wanted to try to do it all herself. She might have to learn sometime, she said, and she wanted to see if she could do it. At first I'd had my doubts. But then I realized she was probably right. The more she could do for herself, the better, in case someday something happened to me. to help get the cows milked before leaving in the morning. But she said she wanted to try to do it all herself. She might have to learn sometime, she said, and she wanted to see if she could do it. At first I'd had my doubts. But then I realized she was probably right. The more she could do for herself, the better, in case someday something happened to me.

After I left the next morning, Katie had gone to the barn first thing to get started. It took her a lot longer than it did me, two hours to get them all milked. But she did it, and I think she was proud of herself.

Then she opened the gate and led the cows out onto the road and into the pasture where we were taking them for grazing. Once cows learn a routine of doing something, they keep doing it over and over. Those cows knew to follow along right behind her out to whichever of the grazing pastures she led them. When they were in the field, she closed the gate behind them and walked back to the house. I can just imagine that she had a smile on her face too. She was all alone at Rosewood-well, Emma was still back in the house, but alone without me-and she was taking care of things!

She said she was already a little tired from the milking. So she took off her milking boots and went into the kitchen to have some breakfast bread and milk. She built a fire in the cook stove, then boiled some water and made a batch of corn mush for herself and Emma, who was up with William by then.

After they had cleaned William up and Emma had fed him and eaten her own breakfast, Katie then set about the morning's ch.o.r.es that she and I usually did ourselves. She went back out to the barn, got oats for the horses, then brought water in a bucket to mix with the dried oats and corn to make mush in the pig trough. Stirring up the pig mush was always hard. The pigs were always so anxious, snorting and crowding around and sticking their snouts in and even stepping in the trough while you were trying to mix it up, so you couldn't get it all stirred before they were all over the place making a terrible mess of it. Sometimes you had to rap them over the head or in the nose to make them get back. They'd squeal and make such a fuss but would come right back and start all over. I can't hardly imagine how Katie managed it, but she did.

After that she brought several loads of firewood and kindling into the kitchen, collected the eggs from the chicken coop, then cleaned up her breakfast things. She wasn't going to do any b.u.t.ter churning or any of the bigger things we had to do regularly when I was gone. And so that was about all there was for her to do for a while in the way of morning ch.o.r.es.

Once all that was done she started to get a little lonely, and then a little scared. She said it wasn't the same with me gone. Even though Emma was there, it was like being alone, because she knew if anything happened she'd have to take care of it herself. And that was her main worry-what to do if someone came. But there wasn't any way to know if someone would, or how to plan for it. She'd already decided that if somebody came that she knew, like Mrs. Hammond or Mr. Thurston or the iceman or somebody like that, then she would just put Emma in the cellar and hide herself until they went away, then answer questions later. But she wanted to have a fire burning and laundry on the line so everything would look normal, just like we'd planned.

If people she didn't know came, she didn't know what she'd do.

But n.o.body came and the day wore on. She tried to keep herself busy, and with Emma following her about fretting and talking, it wasn't too hard. But by early afternoon she was starting to look down the road quite a bit, hoping she'd see me coming. When I still hadn't come by late afternoon, she was getting nervous. But there wasn't anything she could do about it. So she went out and led the cows back home again and took care of the evening milking.

By the time that was over, she was really tired and getting more and more worried about why I wasn't back. She washed up and fixed herself and Emma something to eat, though she said she hardly had enough energy to, then played the piano to try to cheer herself up.

She said it didn't work. Even with Emma chattering away, it just reminded her all the more that I wasn't there.

Finally it started to get dark. And I still hadn't come home. She didn't have any choice in the end but to get Emma and William settled for the night, though William wouldn't sleep all the way till morning, and then get ready for bed herself. She sat down in a chair and kept listening for sounds, hoping she'd hear the horse and me. But she didn't, and the crickets and other night sounds made the waiting all the worse.

Finally she dozed off, then woke up again.

Since I still wasn't back, she got under her blankets and went to bed for real. Since she was still sleepy from just waking up, it made it easier not to worry, though she kept the kerosene lamp burning bright all night so she wouldn't be afraid of being alone in the dark.

ALETA.

16.

ONE THING ABOUT K KATIE, SHE CAN SLEEP. S SO SHE slept the rest of the night, which was a mercy. When she woke up next, it was morning. Emma had fed William when he woke up in the middle of the night and then they'd gone back to sleep and Katie had never heard a thing. slept the rest of the night, which was a mercy. When she woke up next, it was morning. Emma had fed William when he woke up in the middle of the night and then they'd gone back to sleep and Katie had never heard a thing.

She jumped out of bed and went running into her brother's room.

"Mayme ... Mayme, are you back?" she called.

But one look in the bed answered the question clear enough. I was still sound asleep on the gra.s.s by the stream about five miles away.

Now Katie's heart nearly sank for good. All kinds of thoughts were starting to come into her mind of what had happened to me, that I'd been hurt, or that my master had made me stay and go back to work, or even that I'd decided not to come back.

Her brain played all kinds of tricks on her, and she was just about beside herself with worry.

But having the sun s.h.i.+ning outside made it a lot easier than if she'd lain awake all night hounded by those kinds of thoughts. So she got dressed and got about the business of the day, like she knew she had to do whether I was there or not. And once Emma and William were up, there was plenty to do and enough noise for five or six people.

Sometime about the middle of the morning, after the cows and pigs were all taken care of and Katie was in the kitchen thinking about making something different for dinner that night, she heard a soft knock on the door.

She nearly jumped out of her skin because she knew Emma was upstairs. Now she realized the dogs had been barking for a minute or two, but she hadn't paid any attention because she hadn't heard the sound of a horse.

She'd been waiting so anxiously for me, she wanted to run and open the door and see me standing there. But she knew it couldn't be me. She knew I wouldn't just knock softly and not say anything.

She sat for a second, paralyzed on the floor. Her first impulse was to run and hide. But then whoever it was would probably hear her. She didn't have any choice but to go answer it.

Slowly she walked toward the door, reached out and took hold of the latch, then opened it. There stood a bedraggled little girl who Katie said couldn't have been more than eight or nine, dirt smeared all over and her dress torn. Katie had never seen her before.

The minute Katie appeared, the girl started crying.

At first Katie just stood and stared, then looked around beyond her to see if there was anybody else. But the girl was alone.

"What's the matter?" Katie asked, stooping down and looking into her face.

"Something's happened to my mama," said the girl.

"What do you mean?" asked Katie.

"I don't know," said the girl, sniffling and wiping a dirty hand across her face. "We were riding and the horse stumbled and fell. I got up from where I got thrown on the gra.s.s. But I couldn't get my mama to wake up."

Katie went back into the kitchen to get a dish towel. She wiped the girl's face and nose and eyes.

"Where did this happen?" she asked.

"Over there," said the girl, pointing along the road leading west.

"How far away? I didn't hear anything."

"I don't know," said the girl.

"You walked here?"

She nodded.

"Did it take you a long time?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Show me," said Katie, hardly noticing that she'd been called "ma'am" for the first time in her life.

Katie stepped outside, then suddenly remembered Emma back in the house.

"Wait here just a minute," she said to the girl.

She ran back inside, opened the door to the cellar, hurriedly lit one of the extra lanterns, and took it down the ladder and set it someplace safe, then went back to find Emma.

"Emma," she said, "I've got to leave for a little while."

"Leave! Where to, Miz Katie?"

"I don't know. Somebody's here who needs help. I don't know how long I'll be. I want you and William to wait for me in the cellar."

"But I'll be skeered, Miz Katie!"

"Don't worry. I lit a lantern. We'll take several blankets so you won't be cold. Now come with me, Emma."

A few minutes later, Katie walked out of the house again. The little girl was waiting patiently for her. She reached up and took Katie's hand as she approached, then led her along the road away from Rosewood, the three dogs following excitedly.

"What is your name?" Katie asked.

"Aleta," said the girl.

"I'm Katie," she said.

If she had known how far they were going to walk, Katie would have hitched a buggy. But the girl was so vague and obviously upset, she thought the accident with the horse must be somewhere close by. But they kept walking and walking, and pretty soon Katie wondered if she'd made a mistake. But the girl tugged and pulled her along as fast as they both could go, and Katie couldn't do anything but follow.

They walked for an hour or so. By the time they came to the place where the horse had apparently fallen, they were two or three miles away from Rosewood. They'd long ago pa.s.sed the turnoff for Mr. Thurston's plantation, and Katie didn't recognize anything around them. Then she saw some scuff marks on the dirt and at the edge of the road and a woman's bonnet. The girl led her off the road and down a little bank.

"She's over here," she said. "We were riding on the road, but the horse stumbled down this bank. That's when we fell."

"Was the horse galloping?" asked Katie.

"Yes, we were riding real fast."

"Why were you going so fast?"

"We were trying to get away."

"Get away ... from what?"

"From my daddy. He was drunk and my mama was afraid."

"Why was he drunk?"

"He got drunk every night," said the girl, pulling at Katie's hand. "When he came back from the war, he was mean and angry. He yelled at my mama and hit her sometimes. That's why we ran away."

"Where were you going?"

"I don't know. Somewhere Mama said we'd be safe."

They were down the embankment now. The minute Katie saw the woman lying beside the stream at the bottom of it, she knew she was dead. Her face was gray, and her neck was bent at an unnatural angle. From what Katie could tell, she must have hit her head on the rock beside her when she fell. There was no sign of the horse.

"Mama ... Mama, please ... get up," the little girl cried, running to her.

Katie knelt down beside her and started to cry herself. "Oh, G.o.d ... not again," she whispered silently. "What should I do!"

"Please, ma'am," said the girl, looking up into Katie's face with the most forlorn look Katie had ever seen, "please do something to help her. Can't you make my mama wake up!"

The girl bent down to touch her mother's face. When the coldness of death met her touch, she pulled back with a start, seeming to realize something was terribly wrong. Katie took the girl in her arms and pulled her close. Now Katie was the older girl who had to comfort someone younger. They were both crying. As the girl wept in Katie's arms, the instinct that comes to people at such times told the little girl that she would never see her mother again.

For several minutes they remained just weeping. Then slowly Katie stood, took the girl by the hand, and led her back up the hill to the road.

When they were out of sight of her mother's body, Katie stopped. She stooped down to one knee, took both the girl's hands in hers and looked into her eyes while she fought back her own tears.

"Aleta," said Katie softly, "your mother can't wake up."

"Why?"

"Aleta ... your mother is dead. We will have to let G.o.d take care of her now."

Huge new tears welled up in the girl's eyes.

Katie took her in her arms again and held her, both of them starting to cry all over again.

"Don't worry, Aleta," said Katie. "We'll take care of you until we think what is the best thing to do. We'll go back to my house and get you washed, and I'll give you something to eat, and we will decide what to do."

"But what about my mama?" wailed the despairing girl.

"We'll bring a wagon back. I'll take care of her, Aleta."