A Day to Pick Your Own Cotton - Michael R. Phillips [64]
We did, while Katie went through it once with Aleta, then went back to the piano.
While she played, now Emma and I took each other’s hands. I couldn’t remember it perfectly, but we tried it with Katie playing and calling out to us what to do, and gradually we got better.
Pretty soon we were all four laughing and dancing and taking turns dancing with Katie at the piano, or Katie dancing while we sang, and having more fun than we’d had since being together.
SUSPICIOU SCALLER
33
WE WERE RIGHT IN THE MIDDLE OF SINGING and dancing and had been making so much noise that we hadn’t known anyone else was within miles.
All of a sudden we heard a knock on the front door.
We all froze. Katie’s hands looked like they were stuck to the piano. The sounds of the music died away. I glanced over at her, wondering if I had just heard what I thought I’d heard, or if she’d kicked the piano or something. But the look on Katie’s face told me instantly she’d heard it too.
Then the metal knocker sounded again on the wooden door.
Bang! Bang! Bang! it echoed through the house.
“There’s somebody at the door,” said Aleta. “Aren’t you going to see who it is?”
Whoever it was had come to the front door rather than the back at the kitchen, where most folks came. So it must not be someone who came regularly.
“Quick, Aleta,” said Katie, jumping up from the piano stool, “run upstairs to my room and be as quiet as you can.”
“Why?”
“Never mind why. I’ll tell you later.”
Luckily Aleta didn’t argue about it and ran for the stairs.
Katie glanced at me, and I knew we were both thinking the same thing—what to do with Emma!
“Emma,” I whispered, “pick up William and come with me as fast as you can.—But,” I added, quickly putting my finger to my lips because I saw that she was about to start talking, “—don’t say a word. We can’t make a sound.”
I think she saw the danger from Katie’s and my reaction to the knock on the door, and by now a terrified look came to her face and she did what I said. A few seconds later me and Emma, with William in her arms, hurried from the parlor into the kitchen and out the back door to go light the fire in the slave cabin, hoping we’d be good and out of sight from the front of the house.
When we were both gone, Katie tried to calm herself and walked to the door. There stood a man she had never seen before.
“Good day, miss,” he said. “I’d like to see the mistress of the house.”
“Yes, sir … my mother’s not here.”
“Will she be back soon?”
“Uh … probably not, sir.”
“Well, I need to inform her of a serious disease that has infected the colored folk of this region,” the man said.
“With all the changes after the war and all, and with the coloreds moving about looking for work and going up North, we’re trying to get word to everyone, especially plantation owners, to be on the lookout for any coloreds with newborns.”
Katie tried to stay calm, but at the word “newborn” her eyes shot open wide.
“Why is that, sir?” she said, hoping her voice wasn’t trembling.
“Because the disease affects only babies. You ain’t got any blacks with infants here, do you?”
“Uh … no, sir. But how do you know what to look for?”
“We’d have to see it for ourselves. But what do you care … you sure you ain’t seen no colored babies? Nobody’s come by asking for help, nothing like that?”
“No, sir. I was just curious.”
The man eyed her carefully.
“Well, just the same,” he said. “I’ll be back in a day or two to talk to your ma. We’re trying to spread the word roundabout to be on the lookout for girls with babies so we can help them and put a stop to this thing.”
“What happens if you don’t?” asked Katie.
“The disease is fatal, miss. If they don’t get to us for help, the babies will die.”
Katie drew in a sharp breath of shock at the words. The man turned to go.
“I’ll be back to see your ma,” he said. “You tell her I’m coming and I’ll explain to her all about it.”
“But I told you,” said Katie, trying to recover her composure, “we’ve got no baby here.”
“I