A Day to Pick Your Own Cotton - Michael R. Phillips [77]
“Where’s Jeremiah?” she asked as she ran toward him, out of breath.
“Back dere cleanin’ out da livery,” began Henry. “But what’s you in sech an all-fired—”
Already Katie was past him and running inside the building. She would have to figure out how to answer the questions later.
“Jeremiah … Jeremiah!” she called out as she hurried into the dim light. “Jeremiah—it’s Katie Clairborne … please, I need your help. Mayme’s in trouble.”
Jeremiah dropped the pitchfork in his hand and strode toward her.
“Some men have got Mayme,” said Katie frantically. “White men … and I’m worried and afraid and we’re going to go try to help her, but I’d feel a lot better if you were with us.”
“Jes’ lead da way, Miz Clairborne,” said Jeremiah, “an I’ll do what I can—”
Katie turned and ran back outside as Jeremiah, still more than a little confused, hurried to catch up.
“—but I ain’t got no horse er my own.”
“You can ride with me!” said Katie, running to her horse and jumping up onto its back. “Just climb up and sit behind the saddle,” she called down, not even thinking of the impropriety of such a thing.
Less than a minute later, Katie was flapping the reins and galloping back through town the way she had come, leaving a bewildered Henry watching them go, along with a wake of townspeople, shocked, no doubt, to see a white girl and a colored boy flying down the street on the back of the same horse.
Katie caught a glimpse of Mrs. Hammond standing in front of her store, watching the scandalous scene with her mouth half open. “Well, I never—” she began, but the drumming hooves drowned out whatever else she was about to utter.
Jeremiah asked no questions, and Katie did not even try to explain until they slowed down and she led the way off the road.
“I’m going to say the same thing to you,” she said, glancing behind her, “that Mayme said to you before. Please … don’t tell what you see or who you see or anything. I can’t make you promise because there’s no time to worry about it, and we’ve got to try to rescue Mayme. But I hope you’ll keep quiet, as I’m sure you’ve been doing, since nobody’s come around asking us questions—well, except for one man, which is why Mayme’s in trouble.”
Before Jeremiah could reply, Katie had stopped the horse and was dismounting.
“Who dat?” asked Emma, looking up at the young man who was just as surprised to see her as she was him.
“Never mind who it is,” said Katie. “He’s the boy who came out to the house one time and he’s going to help us.—Jeremiah,” she said, turning back to him, “would you ride behind her on the other horse? She’s not too secure in the saddle.”
Jeremiah jumped down and obeyed.
“Get up,” Katie said to Emma. “It will be all right—he won’t let you fall.”
In another minute they were on their way again, more slowly now the closer they approached the McSimmons place. As they went, the horses side by side, Katie briefly tried to explain the situation to Jeremiah.
“These are mean people, Jeremiah,” she said, “and if they see too many more black faces, there is no telling what they might do. For reasons I can’t tell you about, if they catch so much as a glimpse of Em—I mean, if they see her,” she added, still not sure how much it was safe to divulge and nodding toward Emma as she said it, “they’re likely to kill her. So we’ve got to stay out of sight. And I don’t want you to be in danger either. So if anything bad happens, you get away and take her with you. Get as far away as you can and take her back to my house until I get back.”
“What about you, Miz Katie?”
“If anything happens, I just want the two of you to get away as fast as you can. They won’t hurt me—I’m white.”
“What you plannin’ ter do?” asked Jeremiah. “If dey’s got Mayme,