A Day to Pick Your Own Cotton - Michael R. Phillips [4]
“I wouldn’t have thought of that, Mayme,” she said.
“Yes, come in with me.”
We got down and walked into the shop. I kept a step or two behind Katie and kept my eyes down. I wanted to look around, and especially to get a good faceful of Mrs. Hammond, but I didn’t dare.
“I see you’re back, Kathleen,” said Mrs. Hammond, glancing over at me for a second with a look like I had some kind of disease. “I have your mama’s things ready. Tell her to take them out,” she added, nodding her head in my direction.
Katie looked over at me. “Take these things out to the buggy, Mayme,” she said.
“Yes’m, Miz Katie,” I answered slowly, taking a step forward.
At the words, Mrs. Hammond spun around with fire in her eye and glared at me.
“Watch how you speak to your betters, girl!” she said, almost yelling at me. “Didn’t Mrs. Clairborne tell you how to address her daughter? You are to call her Miss Clairborne or Miss Kathleen.”
“Yes’m,” I nodded, feeling stupid for forgetting something so simple.
All of a sudden the door banged open behind us and a man stormed in. He walked straight up to the counter and started talking to Mrs. Hammond. I snuck a glance at him and his profile seemed familiar. And if there was a white man that I knew or that knew me, that couldn’t help be anything but bad. So I quickly turned away from him.
“You seen a runaway nigger girl anywhere?” he said to Mrs. Hammond. “I figured you’d know if there’d been any talk.”
“Why, no,” replied Mrs. Hammond, though I saw her hawk eyes dart my way and narrow slightly as she said it.
“Whose is it?”
“One of our brats is missing. She might have a baby with her.”
At the word, I saw Katie start to glance my way, but then she stopped herself.
“A baby—gracious,” said Mrs. Hammond. “Did she steal it?”
“Naw—it’s her own. Since all this commotion with Lincoln’s proclamation …” he went on, then paused.
Now for the first time he seemed to notice me standing on the other side of the store. I kept my head down but knew he was looking me over. Apparently satisfied because I had no baby and was too thin to be carrying one, he turned back to Mrs. Hammond.
“You know how it is now,” he said. “The girl wouldn’t give me a day’s work, and now she’s up and disappeared.”
“I’m sorry,” said Mrs. Hammond. “I’ve heard nothing.”
“All right then, guess I’ll be going. You keep your ears open, though, you hear.”
He turned and walked out, throwing me a scowl as he went by that worried me a bit, like I might be familiar to him too but he didn’t know why. I let out a breath of air when the door closed. Whoever he was, I didn’t like him!
As soon as he was gone, I walked forward and took the two packages off the counter and slowly walked toward the door. As I passed by her I saw that Katie’s eyes had gotten all wide again. She looked at me, and I looked at her, but neither of us said a word. I think we were both thinking, We’d better get out of here before anything worse happens!
A minute later I walked back in and picked up the last of the three packages wrapped in brown paper. Then we left the shop together. I was conscious of Mrs. Hammond’s scowl staring at our backs the whole way out to the street.
We were both mighty relieved to get up on that buggy and finally start back toward Katie’s home. We felt like laughing, but we couldn’t yet because we were still in town.
“Hello, Reverend Hall,” said Katie as we passed the church at the edge of town.
The minister, who was walking toward the church from town with his back toward us, turned and then when he saw who it was, beckoned toward Katie. At first Katie didn’t slow up, intending to keep on going. But he ran toward us and called out, so that Katie had to rein in the horses.
“Good morning, Kathleen,” said the minister, walking up to the wagon, puffing a little. “I wanted to ask a favor of you—tell your mama to come see me, would you?”
“Yes, Reverend Hall.”
“Your father and brothers aren’t home yet?”
“Uh … no, sir.”
“Well, some of