Authors: Michael Phillips
Never Too Late (30 page)
T
he conversations that took place four days later were all ones that influenced our lives in unforeseen ways. The first was between Jeremiah and me
.
I knew that Mr. Watson had let him go at the mill, but I didn't know what he was thinking of doing about it
.
He asked me if he could talk to me after lunch. He took my hand as we walked out toward the woods. I knew it was serious because he said nothing for a long time. We were all the way to Katie's secret little meadow in the woods before he said a word. By then I was really getting worried!
“You know 'bout Mr. Watson an' da mill?” he said
.
I nodded
.
“You know how me an' Papa hab been givin' some ob our wages to Mister Ward and your daddy,” Jeremiah went on. “It ain't as if it's dat much, but Papa says dat now dat we's free, we's got ter prove dat we's
worthy er freedom by workin' hard an' payin' our own way an' not lookin' fo nobody ter pay our way fo us like da white masters used ter do. Dey used ter do everything fo us. Now we's got ter do fo ourselves an' Papa says we gotter show dat we can, dat we kin work hard. Mister Lincoln's dead an' now we gotter prove dat he wuz right. Dat's what my daddy says. An' da way we do dat is ter work hard an' not expect no hand-outs from nobody
.
“Now your papa an' Mister Ward, dey's 'bout da finest two men I eber knowed besides my papa and Micah Duff. An' dey said da same thing ter me as dey did ter my daddy, dat I could stay on wiff him an' dey'd fin' plenty er work fo us bof. But I been thinkin' 'bout it, an' it ain't jes' da danger ter blacks here, I figger too dat it don't seem right fo you an' me ter git married when we's beholdin' ter folks fo everythin', even folks as generous as Miss Katie an' Mister Templeton an' Mister Ward. An' now wiff my daddy plannin' ter marry Josepha, an' dem both bein' here wiffout other jobs, it seems dat maybe I needs ter be helpin' out wiff some real money so dat things don't git bad like dey was a while back for you an' Katie. I saw yer papa an' Mister Ward go into da bank da day ob da fire, an' dey ain't sayin' nuthin', but I heard 'em once talking 'bout taxes an' where dey wuz gwine git da money ter pay 'em.”
Jeremiah stopped and drew in a long breath. That was a lot of talking for him to do!
“I gotter work,” he went on. “I need ter be earnin' money so's we kin git married an' not be beholden to
nobody. An' I figger I gots ter help my papa a little too cause he can't be dependin' on your papa every time he an' Josepha wants ter buy somethin'. So I's decided dat I need ter fin' me another job an' put some money away fo you an' me, an' fo my papa an' maybe fo dose taxes too. But since dere ain't likely ter be no work roun' here, I's decided ter go up norf fo a spell an' git me a job.”
“Oh . . . oh, Jeremiah!” I said, drawing in a breath of shock. I couldn't help it, I felt tears filling my eyes. I clutched his hand tight and looked into his face
.
“I don't like da thought ob leavin' you any more den you does,” he said. “But it won't be fo too long. Dey say dere's jobs in da harbors an' in da factories an' wiff train buildin', an' dat even a black man kin make better money up dere den a white man does down here. We's be together agin soon, an' by then maybe I'll hab enuff saved dat will last us awhile an' things'll git better here, an' I'll be able to git another job, an' maybe den da time'll be right fo us.”
I sat down on a log, still stunned. But as heartbroken as I was, I admired Jeremiah all the more for wanting to work hard for himself. Somehow inside I knew it was the right decision
.
But I couldn't help crying. The thought of him leaving Rosewood was almost more than I could bear. We'd been waiting, for one reason or another, for so long!
While we were off talking in the woodsâ-with me crying!âmy papa and Uncle Ward rode into Oakwood
.
People were used to the two Daniels brothers by now, but they still turned a few heads wherever they went. And of course word had spread about the fire and what had happened. Most folks didn't approve of the KKK's tactics. But to turn a gun on a white man in defense of a black man, for whatever reason, was a sin that most Southerners would never forgive. The fact that Templeton Daniels carried a rifle across his saddle as they rode into town drew even more looks than otherwise, and stares followed them as they rode down the street, then stopped in front of the sheriff's office.
They dismounted and went inside, Templeton still carrying the gun.
When Sam Jenkins looked up, hatred filled his eyes.
“I believe this is yours, Sam,” said Daniels, setting the rifle down on the sheriff's desk. “You left it behind when you and your cowardly scum rode off the other day.”
“How dare you talk to me likeâ”
“Shut up, Jenkins!” interrupted Ward. “Now you just sit there and listen. My brother's rightâyou're all nothing but a bunch of yellow cowards, going about like little boys dressed up in sheets. You don't have the guts to own up to what you're doing. My brother came to return your gunâhe's a little more neighborly than me. I came to tell you thisâI've been in jail a few times, I'm more than fifty years old, I've already lived longer than I probably have a right
to, and so there's not much I'm afraid of. I'm not afraid of jail, I'm not afraid of dying, I don't think I'm even afraid of hanging, though I don't relish the thought. But one thing I'm especially not afraid of is you. I'm sorry about your boy. Nobody ought to have to lose a son like that. I'd hoped maybe you'd learned from it a bit about hate, but it doesn't seem that you have. I think you're a coward, Jenkinsâa coward and a hypocrite . . . sitting there with that badge, then going out and hiding behind a mask when you try to kill people. No true man would do that, only a coward. So I'm telling you that if you lay a finger on any of our family, black or white, or so much as set foot on Rosewood without our permission . . . I'll personally kill you, Jenkins. They may hang me for it, but you won't be there to watch. Don't push me, Jenkins. I mean what I say. I'll kill you if you give me cause.”
Ward turned and walked out. Sheriff Jenkins stared after him, his face trembling and so white with rage that he couldn't even manage a word. Templeton followed a few seconds later, almost as shocked at what his brother had said as the sheriff.
The third conversation that day took place later, after Papa and Uncle Ward were back from Oakwood. They didn't tell any of us right then what had taken place in the sheriff's office. It would come back to haunt us one day, but not for a while
.
The rest of the day had been sad and thoughtful for me after my conversation with Jeremiah. Katie
and I had talked. I'd told her about Jeremiah's decision and cried again. Later, while Katie helped Josepha get supper ready in the kitchen, I went up to my room to rest. I was trying to get ready to put on a smiling face when I went down to supper. I couldn't act all glum for Jeremiah's sake. He felt right about his decision and I had to show my support by acting like I felt good about it too
.
After a while, I got up from my bed and wandered to the window. In the distance I saw my papa and Henry and Uncle Ward walking away from the house
.
“We thought maybe it was time we took a look at the work you've been doing on the cabin,” said Templeton. “Why don't you show us?”
“You wuz jest down dere yesterday, Mister Templeton,” laughed Henry. “You done as much ob da work on it as I hab.”
“Well, we want to see it again,” said Ward. “Supper's not quite ready. By the way, Henry, that cabin of yours and Jeremiah's is pretty small for a married man, and it's got no kitchen. How's Josepha going to manage as a married lady without a kitchen?”
“We figgered she'd still be cookin' for you all at da big house,” said Henry.
“I'm glad to hear that!” laughed Templeton. “But what if she wants to make a special cake or batch of biscuits just for you? What's she going to do then?”
“I hadn't thought er dat, Mister Templeton.”
They reached the new house and walked inside.
“You do beautiful work, Henry,” said Ward. “Look at this, two big rooms, and this big kitchen with that new counter you put in, the sink with an inside pump, and the place there for a cook stoveâyou've turned a small cabin into a spacious home, Henry. Nobody'd ever know it used to be a slave cabin.”
“Thank you, Mister WardâI's pleased how it all's turnin' out,” said Henry, still a little bewildered by the gist of the conversation, since all three of them had been working on the house together.
“By the way, I'm not sure whether Templeton told you, but last time we were in town we ordered the new cook stove, made to fit right thereâbrand-new, coming from Richmond. And while we were at it, we ordered a new bed, extra wide and extra long.”
“We figured the new occupants of the house might like it that way,” added Templeton with a mischievous wink, though Henry did not understand his meaning.
“Yep,” he nodded, “I's sure dey will at dat.”
“And we ordered a couple of chairs and a couch. We thought they would look good over here,” said Ward, now wandering into the empty space of the living area off the kitchen, “alongside this handsome bookcase you built. I must sayâvery fine work, Henry!”
“Thank you, suh. But effen you don't mind my askin' . . . I did tell you dat Jeremiah's plannin' ter leave fo a spell?”
“That you did.”
“Seems like you's goin' ter considerable expense when
he an' Mayme ain't gwine be ready no time soon.”
“Well, speaking of Mayme and Jeremiah,” said Templeton, “we've been thinking about that, and when we heard about what Jeremiah was set on doing, we changed our plans. This house turned out so nice that we decided to sell it.”
“Sell it!” said Henry in surprise, unable to keep the excitement out of his voice. “Effen you don't mind my askin' . . . does you hab yorselves a buyer yet?”
“Nope,” said Templeton, shaking his head. “These are tough times. The market's a little slow for converted slave cabins.”
“Effen you don't mind my askin' agin . . . uh, what wuz you thinkin' 'bout askin' fo da place?” said Henry.
Ward and Templeton looked at each other. “We'd talked about somewhere in da neighborhood of twenty, maybe twenty-five dollars,” said Ward.
“Twenty-five dollars!” exclaimed Henry. “Dat can't hardly be. I run up ten or twelve dollars at Mister Watson's on yo account jest' fo lumber an' roofin' an' da new windows. An' dat new cook stove's likely gwine cost ten er twelve mo, den da bed an' dose chairs. It don't soun' ter me like dat could possibly be da price.”
