A Day to Pick Your Own Cotton - Michael R. Phillips [89]
“I will … I will, Katie!” said Aleta, eyes wide with excitement.
“It also means you have to work hard. Look at my hands. I’ve never had blisters before. Now I’m sunburned and my hands are rough. Can you do that … can you help with all the work?”
“Yes.”
“And you promise not to tell?”
“I promise.”
“Then you are one of us now. Just like Mayme and I became sisters and then a little while later Emma came, and now you are our sister too. Someday we’ll find your daddy, and by then I’m sure you’ll want to go with him. But for now you may stay with us.”
Then Katie turned to Emma and explained to them both about the loan and what would happen if they didn’t get a lot of money, and that they were going to pick the cotton.
“Do you think you can help some too, Emma?” she asked. “That is, when William doesn’t need you?”
“Yes’m, Miz Katie. I kin do it. After what you an Miz Mayme done ter save me from dat William McSimmons, I’ll do anything fer you, Miz Katie. I owes you my life, an’ I’s help, Miz Katie. You jes’ show me what ter do.”
“Good, then let’s go find Mayme and help her pick that cotton.”
KING COTTON
46
WE BEGAN THAT SAME MORNING.
We hitched up the big wagon. Even with all four of us, we could barely lift the baling box up into the back of it. But we managed it, then drove the wagon to the field closest to the house, where I figured would be the best place to start. We parked the wagon and unhitched the horses and took them back to the house. It would take us several days, maybe a week—I didn’t know—to get the wagon full. We got the smaller buckboard fixed up with blankets and water and shade for a comfortable place for William to lie and sleep and for Emma to sit with him when he needed her, but so she could help us some of the time.
Once we had everything ready, we went out into the fields with satchels slung over our shoulders and widebrimmed hats on our heads to keep us from the sun, and I showed Katie and Emma and Aleta how to do it.
“You gotta circle the fingers of your right hand around the ball of cotton from the top—see … like this,” I said, stooping down to one and showing them, “while your left hand keeps hold of the stem. Then you squeeze the fingers of both hands together at the stem and the base of the cotton and pluck it out with your right so it comes off at the bottom … like this.” I squeezed and pulled the ball of cotton off the stem and stuck it into my satchel.
They each tried it a couple of times. It was a little awkward at first. It was something they’d have to learn by doing.
“The main thing is to not get leaves mixed in with the cotton,” I said. “Once you know how to do it, we gotta try to work fast. Cotton doesn’t weigh much, and we’ll get paid by how many pounds we bring in. So stuff your satchels as full as you can, then go dump them in the wagon and go back and fill them again. And you gotta drink lots of water, ’cause the sun can tire you out more than the work if you don’t.”
Then we started. We each took a row side by side and started out together. At first we were talking and having fun. But within just a few minutes I was moving ahead of Katie, and then Katie started moving ahead of Aleta in her row and Emma in hers. Within fifteen minutes the four of us were scattered apart in the field, and it was hard to do much talking after that.
We picked all day in the hot sun, taking time out for eating and drinking plenty of water and taking a break every now and then. I’ve got to hand it to Emma, she worked harder than I ever thought she could. She’d stop to check on William, or sometimes feed him, every ten or fifteen minutes. But when she worked she worked pretty fast and after a while was picking twice as much cotton as Aleta could. I dumped about two satchels for every one of Katie’s, and Aleta was even slower than that, and pretty soon Emma was keeping up with Katie, even having to stop like she did. They all learned fast. I was mighty pleased and thought we did real good for our first day.
By late afternoon, Katie, Emma, and Aleta