The Color of Your Skin Ain’t the Color of Your Heart (7 page)

Jeremiah looked at me and without another word we both started running for the house to fetch a horse.

Suddenly a terrific blast of thunder exploded above us.

“Hurry, Jeremiah—we ain’t got no time ter lose.—Miz Kathleen,” he called to Katie, “come wiff me … we gots ter git dat udder wagon under cover!”

Within seconds a few huge drops of rain began to fall on my face. Jeremiah and I reached the barn well ahead of Henry and Katie, who were hurrying as quickly as they could. Jeremiah glanced around. I grabbed his hand and led him to the corral. Three minutes later we were racing back to the field with horse and harness. At the same time Henry and Katie were just beginning to hitch up another horse to pull the full wagon of cotton we’d already baled into the barn and out of the rain.

As Jeremiah and I fussed with the harness, already my face was wet. Then another clap of thunder sounded and all at once the sky seemed to open. I jumped up onto the seat and grabbed the reins. Jeremiah leapt up beside me. I yelled at the horse and off we clattered toward the house as the rain poured down in torrents. By the time we flew into the wide-open doors, Jeremiah and I were soaked to the skin. My dress was clinging to me and water was dripping from my hair and ears and chin. The two horses were in a frenzy of excitement from the rain and sudden exertion and the close quarters of the barn. It was all we could do to calm them down and prevent them from hurting themselves, or one of us. Henry hurried quickly to them and began talking to them and stroking their noses one at a time while Jeremiah and I unfastened the harnesses and got them free from the wagons.

Ten minutes later the two horses were back in their stalls munching on some oats. Katie had just run back from the house with a handful of towels and we all dried our hands and faces. She was exuberant and flushed with the excitement of it all, still not aware of the danger.

After wiping his hands, Henry was leaning over the rail of the wagon of loose cotton, running his hand through it, reaching down to the bottom and pulling out handful after handful to feel how wet it was. Gradually Katie began to realize how serious Henry’s expression was.

“It’s all right, isn’t it, Henry?” she asked.

“I reckon we got it in time though we shuldn’t a waited so long,” he said thoughtfully. “Effen dere’s one thing cotton don’ like it’s gettin’ too wet an’ gettin’ full er mildew. But dis is loose an’ it’ll dry up. An’ fer dese bales,” he said, now walking over to the other wagon and running his hand over the edge of one of the bales, “hit’s tight enuff to a kep’ much rain gittin’ to it. I reckon Mr. Watson’ll take it—he’s a good man.”

He sighed and glanced around, then walked to the big open doors and took a couple steps outside, where he stood under the overhang of the roof and stared out. The rain was pouring down in sheets so hard you could barely see the house a hundred and fifty feet away.

“Unforturnat’ly, Miz Kathleen,” he said as he stood staring out into the storm, “hit ain’t dis yere cotton I’m a worryin’ ’bout.”

“What do you mean, Henry?” asked Katie, walking up beside him and glancing up into his face.

“I mean hit’s da cotton still out dere in dem fields dat we gotter be worried ’bout.”

“Why … can’t we just pick the rest of it when the rain stops?”

“Effen da rain stop soon, I reckon we might at dat,” said Henry. “But it’s gotter stop real soon, Miz Kathleen—
real
soon. Effen it rain like dis fer jes’ anudder hour er two an’ dat cotton goes down, den it’s no good an’ da whole crop be los’.”

“Lost!” gasped Katie.

“Effen it gits soakin’ wet an’ full er mud an’ hit’s jest layin’ dere in da dirt, ain’t dat cotton no good ter nobody. Hit can’t be picked den, Miz Kathleen—not when hit’s down.”

“But … but what about all the other plantations around? What about everyone else?”

“Dey mostly had dere cotton in an’ under cover or sol’ ter Mr. Watson weeks ago. Dat’s why I been wonderin’ what’s goin’ on at Rosewood when I seein’ you bring in dem scrawny little bales so slow an’ I’m wonderin’ ter myse’f,
What dat Mistress Clairborne wastin’ so much time
fer—don’ she know dat she’s gotter beat da rain?
Dat’s why I come out. But hit ’peers I was jes’ a mite late ’cuz here’s da rain an’ dat cotton’s still on da stalk.”

The four of us stood there silently staring out as the water poured down. Beside me, I felt Jeremiah’s fingers, then slowly he closed his big hand around mine. A tingle went through me. It made me feel warm inside, even though I was soaking wet. On the other side of me I glanced toward Katie.

Tears were falling from her eyes. I think she realized the rain wasn’t going to stop.

F
LOOD

8

T
HE RAIN DIDN’T STOP.
I
T DIDN’T LET UP FOR
three days. I’d never seen it rain so hard. And when it finally did let up, it didn’t stop but only slowed down a little. Already the streams and rivers had filled so full that a few of them were lapping at the top of their banks. As for the cotton, it wasn’t just wet—half the field sat under two or three inches of water. The first big rainstorm of the year turned out to be the worst storm Shenandoah County had seen in a dozen years. That’s what Henry told us later that folks were saying.

Katie was somber and so were the rest of us. From being so hopeful such a short time earlier, now our hopes of raising the money to pay off Rosewood’s second loan were gone.

We didn’t see Henry or Jeremiah again for several days. We didn’t know it, but after the third day of rain we were cut off from them anyway. The river had come up over the road in several places and we couldn’t have gotten to Greens Crossing if we’d wanted to, or anyone from there to us.

We stayed inside, not doing much but trying to keep a good fire going and keep dry and warm. The cows, of course, couldn’t go out to pasture and had to stay in, and that took more work because we had to feed them and clean up after them. None of us realized the danger we were in from the stream that wound west of the house. I’d gone down the road to keep an eye on the river, which was about a half mile northeast and then wound in closer by one of the cotton fields. And while the river was getting mighty huge and was spilling over the road in spots, it was still too far away from us to cause us any worry. But it’s a funny thing about floods, sometimes the littlest streams can grow as big as rivers. And without us even realizing it, the stream that went through the woods at Katie’s secret place was quickly becoming a river and was overflowing its banks. Though it wasn’t moving fast, it was spreading out everywhere and flowing over the fields toward Rosewood.

Katie was the first to see it. She was upstairs one day and absently glanced out the window of Emma’s room, a window facing west. All of a sudden she gasped in astonishment. ‘

‘Mayme!” she cried. “Mayme, come up here … there’s a lake out there! A whole lake I can’t even see the end of. The road toward Mr. Thurston’s … it’s gone. It’s covered by water!”

By then we had all heard her and were running upstairs to see the sight.

I don’t know if we were really in any danger. The house and barn and other Rosewood buildings sat on slightly higher ground than any of the surrounding fields. But seeing the water so close, and stretching out in three directions farther than we could see, was about as fearsome a sight as I’d ever seen in my life. The look on Katie’s face wasn’t just concern, it was a look of terror.

I don’t think we had felt so helpless since we’d been together as we did at that moment. All four of us just stood there in silence. The sight struck awe into us. The raw power and terror of nature seemed so overwhelming, and we suddenly seemed so small and insignificant and powerless. And still the rain kept falling like it was never going to stop. I know we were all thinking the same thing—how much higher would the massive lake get … and how much closer to the house would it come?

It was Aleta who finally broke the silence.

“Is it going to come and swallow the house?” she said in a trembly voice. “What will we do, Katie?”

Her obvious fear brought Katie back to herself. Like she always did, she put her own fear aside to reassure Emma and Aleta.

“I don’t know, Aleta,” she answered, placing a gentle arm around Aleta’s shoulders. “But if it comes to the house, we’ll just stay upstairs. It could never get
this
high. It would have to cover all of Greens Crossing to do that!”

We didn’t know it, but that’s just what people in town were worrying about. We weren’t the only ones with problems from the flood. Everyone for miles was looking at the rising water just like we were, and some houses and plantations were in far more peril than Rosewood. The bottom floors of a few were already under water.

Later that day, when Emma and Aleta were taking naps, Katie and I were alone in the kitchen. We stood for a few minutes just looking out. It seemed like that’s mostly what we did these days, stand staring out windows into the dreary mist and slanting rain, wondering when it was going to stop. We both had serious expressions on our faces and were thinking the same thing—that maybe we ought to take a closer look at what was going on to see just how serious the danger really might be. Without a word, we went to the workroom next to the kitchen, put on big raincoats and galoshes and hats, then walked outside. We stood a moment more on the porch, then Katie led the way down the steps and into the rain.

“I think we should look at the river,” she said.

I nodded in agreement, and we trudged off across the muddy yard, past the barn and stables, and in the direction of the old slave cabins, which had been vacant since the war.

We didn’t get much farther than that. Halfway across the field adjacent to the last little shack, a field that sloped down from the high ground of the house and most of Rosewood’s buildings, we saw the edge of the river lapping gently against the mud and stalks of cotton we’d picked. In just the few days since I’d checked the road, the river had come over its banks. Once it was that high, all the flat surrounding fields began to fill with its overflow. Out in the water beyond us the stalks poked up like the stubble of a white man’s beard. The actual banks of the river were more than two hundred yards away from us. This was the closest place where the river came to Rosewood. But those banks had disappeared along with the two hundred yards. The river on this side of the house was so wide toward town we couldn’t see the other side of it. Just like on the other side, the water looked like it went forever. Now for the first time we really realized that we were completely surrounded and cut off from Henry, from the town, from the whole rest of the world.

Rosewood was an island surrounded with water everywhere. We were alone.

Slowly we continued across the field through the mud until we came to the water’s edge, where we stopped.

Again we just stood and watched, mesmerized by the awesome sight. Right in front of our feet, the water was shallow and calm and muddy. But as it stretched out into the distance, it was easy to see the flow of the huge expanse out where the actual river used to be. And it was moving fast, swirling and frothing like a torrent.

It was brown and muddy. Logs and bushes and sticks and small trees floated down past us out in the water as we watched.

“What if the river and stream both keep getting higher?” said Katie. “Rosewood’s right in the middle of it.”

“I know,” I said. “The stream must pour into the river over yonder. That’s what must be making the river so high. And you’re right, Rosewood’s right in the middle.”

Before we could think any more about our worries, suddenly we heard a mournful moo and saw a helpless cow rushing by out in the middle where the river was moving fast, struggling to keep its head above water.

“Oh, Mayme!” cried Katie. “Can’t we do something!”

“I’m afraid there’s nothing we can do for it now, Katie. Once a river like this takes something, it’s not going to stop till it gets to the ocean.”

We watched as the poor cow disappeared and then we just kept standing there. If anything, the rain began to pound all the harder on our heads.

“I’m scared, Mayme,” said Katie after a minute.

“I know,” I said. “Me too. But we’ll be okay. I’m sure the water could never reach the house.”

“But it’s only fifty yards away from the slave cabins.”

“I know. But the house is quite a bit higher. Look—” I said as we turned around behind us—“the road goes up from the colored town. It can’t possibly get much higher.”

As we turned back around to face the swirling river and looked down, we saw that our boots were in the water. Just in the time we had been standing there, the river had risen another inch.

Without saying anything more, we both stepped back and slowly began making our way back to the house. Despite my optimistic words, I was worried too. If the water was rising this fast, there was no telling what might happen.

D
OVER
AND
R
ED

9