A Day to Pick Your Own Cotton - Michael R. Phillips [46]
“I reckon it’s time to start scrubbing,” I said as we returned to Aleta and Emma.
“I’ll go get the two washboards,” said Katie.
“I don’t mind doing the scrubbing, Miss Katie,” I said.
“That’s silly, Mayme. I’ll help too.”
As we went Katie glanced at me with an unspoken look of hopeful question as we slowly left Emma and Aleta alone, stirring and swishing in the washtub while we walked away. I heard them talking a little but couldn’t make out too clearly what they were saying. But I know it warmed Katie’s heart just to hear them talking at all.
“Dat real good, Miz Aleta,” Emma was saying as we returned. “She’s washin’ dese here clothes, right good, Miz Mayme,” she said to me.
“I can see that, Emma,” I said. “It looks like the two of you have them ready for the washboards. You know how to use a washboard, Emma?”
“Dat I do, Miz Mayme. I done washed like dis a hunner times.”
“Good. Then let’s you and me scrub these clothes and get them the rest of the way clean.”
When Katie came back with the two washboards, we set them in the tub leaning against the rim. Aleta kept stirring—though she was already starting to run out of energy and was slowing down—and Katie joined her. Then Emma and I leaned over and scrubbed each thing one at a time. Once we started getting them done, we wrung them out, and Katie took them over and dumped them into the rinse tub.
It went a lot faster with four of us than the last time we’d washed and I’d done all the scrubbing myself. Katie was really learning how to work hard! Every once in a while I’d glance over and think to myself, Is this the same Katie? I hadn’t ever known her mother, but I doubted she could have been a harder worker than Katie when Katie got going.
We did three loads of different wash, and scrubbed and wrung out and rinsed and wrung out again all morning. By noon there were clothes and sheets and towels and linens and stockings and quilts and aprons and dresses all hanging from the line, and we were almost finished. Our arms were so tired from the scrubbing that they were about ready to fall off! The last of the quilts were so heavy when they got wet, we didn’t scrub them as hard as the rest—we mostly just stirred them around and let them soak in the water, though the wash water was pretty dirty by then too. But we were just getting too tired to scrub them any harder.
“I’m tired,” said Aleta.
“Me too, Miz Aleta,” said Emma.
“And me,” I said, “but we’re almost done.”
The day was hot by then too, and we were sweating like horses out for a hard ride.
Katie was just wringing out one of the last work dresses when it fell back into the rinse tub. The water from the splash came up and hit her in the face.
“Oh, that cold water felt good!” she said.
Instead of picking it back out, she just stood there for a minute, as if she was too tired to do anything. Then she started to laugh.
All of a sudden she slammed her hand into the water toward where I was standing on the other side of the tub, sending a big spray of water all over the front of my dress.
“Katie, what are you doing!” I cried.
She was laughing all the harder by now. She swatted the water again. I jumped away. Then she picked up a bucket and scooped it half full of water and ran toward me. I saw what she was about to do and tried to run. But it was too late. I felt a flood of water all over my back, followed by a shriek of laughter.
“Katie,” I yelled, “I can run faster than you!”
I dashed for the nearest bucket and then back. But as I was dipping it into the rinsing tub, Katie was pouring another bucketful over my head.
“Ohh!” I exclaimed. “Just you wait!”
It was cold, but after the first shock it felt good!
I spun around and there was Katie running across the grass. I went after her with my own bucket of water. I tried to throw it as I ran but only got one of her shoulders wet.
By now Aleta had a bucket and was chasing us both. I didn’t see her coming, and the next thing I knew