A Day to Pick Your Own Cotton - Michael R. Phillips [69]
But already heavy boots were descending the stairs. Finally the look in Josepha’s eyes told Katie and me how serious she was, and we made for the door.
William McSimmons ran into the kitchen just as we ran through the opposite door across the room and made for our horses.
Behind us we heard the whack of his hand across Josepha’s face and a cry of pain.
“You meddlesome old fool!” yelled McSimmons. “Who told you to interfere in my affairs?”
“Run, chil’!” Josepha’s voice called out after us.
We sprinted to our horses as fast as we could go, untied them, and quickly mounted. By now we were really frightened. But just the fact that we were running away, I suppose, made us look guilty. And just like a dog will chase you the minute you’re trying to run away from him, when William McSimmons ran out of the kitchen and saw us galloping away, it threw him into an even wilder rage than before.
“Stop them!” he cried to some of his men. “Go after them and get the nigger girl. Don’t let her get away!”
We were hardly out of sight from the house when I looked back and saw three of his men digging their heels into their horses and galloping after us. We tried to outrun them, but it was no use. They caught up with us in less than a minute.
One of them rode alongside me, shouting terrible things at me, then reached over and grabbed my reins to stop me.
“Ride, Katie!” I screamed as I felt my horse slow. “Go home … I’ll meet you there!”
She glanced back with a look of terror on her face to see the men yanking me off my horse.
“Mayme!” she screamed.
“Ride, Katie … ride!” I cried before a vicious slap across my face silenced me.
Tears flooded Katie’s eyes. But there was nothing she could do to help me now.
Once they had me, the men ignored her. In a few more seconds, sobbing and terrified, she galloped out of sight.
Katie rode hard all the way back to Rosewood. She kept looking back, half hoping to see me riding after her, but fearing she would see McSimmons’ men chasing her instead.
By the time she got back to Rosewood, her tears had dried up for a while, but she was worried sick about me. She went inside and started calling out to Aleta and Emma that she was back. She found them in the cellar, where they had gone the minute they heard the sound of her horse riding toward the house.
“Where’s Mayme?” asked Aleta as she climbed up and back into the parlor.
“She’s not here,” said Katie in a trembling voice. She helped Emma and William up from the cellar, then told them what had happened.
“But where was it, Miz Katie?” said Emma. “Why’d dey take her? What was you doin’ someplace where dey’d do dat?”
“It was at the McSimmons plantation, Emma,” Katie replied. “That’s where we went after that man came.”
“Why’d you go dere!”
“We wanted to find out if you and William were safe.”
“Dey don’ know where I am.”
“But we had to find out. That man said …” Katie hesitated, realizing what she had been about to say. “Mayme was afraid that man might have been looking for you.”
“You mean … Mayme did dat for me?”
“Yes, Emma. She cares about you and doesn’t want anything to happen to you. She was worried that William McSimmons might have sent that man to try to find you.”
Emma’s eyes opened wide in fear.
“But don’t worry,” said Katie. “They don’t know you’re with us. And they don’t know where we live anyway. You and William are safe.”
“But then why did they take Mayme?” asked Aleta.
“I don’t know,” answered Katie. “I think there are some bad men there, Aleta, who are looking for Emma. They might think Mayme knows where Emma is since they both ran away from the same plantation.”
“But she won’t tell, will she, Katie?” asked Aleta.
“No, of course not. Mayme would never tell.”
By then it was late