Together is All We Need (14 page)

‘‘I've only seen one other girl with her, an ugly darkie who seemed more thickheaded than the Clairborne girl herself.''

‘‘That must be it—that's got to be the place!''

‘‘Wouldn't surprise me. That Kathleen Clairborne is nothing but a dimwit herself. Although they say she kept the plantation going on her own somehow—until today, that is.''

‘‘What's today got to do with it?''

‘‘Her uncle, who now owns the place as I understand it, is assuming ownership of the plantation today. But''—Mrs. Hammond paused, lowering her eyes modestly—‘‘as to the houseful of urchins, Mistress McSimmons,'' she began, ‘‘there have been a few rumors, of course, but I must confess I've seen nothing with my own two—''

‘‘Never mind all that,'' interrupted Mrs. McSimmons. ‘‘Just give me directions how to find this place.''

Henry didn't stay to hear the directions. He left the store as quickly and quietly as he could. Neither woman paid him any mind.

Then Henry ran up the street to the livery.

A
WAY
23

N
OT KNOWING THAT WE HAD MORE PEOPLE TO
worry about than Katie's uncle Burchard, Emma and I and the others were still getting ready to leave. Katie made all of us eat a big breakfast to tide us over on the road. She was mothering us all she could, it seemed, one last time.

Although Katie's uncle had said ten o'clock, it wasn't much past eight in the morning when we started hearing wagons rumbling in.

‘‘I reckon it's about time the three of us were off,'' I said in a husky voice. ‘‘It looks like your uncle's here.''

Katie tried to smile, but there were tears shining in her eyes.

Emma and Josepha stood and picked up their things. They'd heard the wagons too and knew it was time to say our final good-byes.

Katie's uncle walked into the kitchen then, his face stiff. But when he saw us obviously getting ready to leave, he decided not to say whatever he had been about to and just turned around and left the house again.

Finally there was nothing else to do but just go. The moment had finally come.

I couldn't stand it, but I went over and picked up my blanket and pillow slip.

Emma was blubbering and telling Katie how wonderful she was. ‘‘Good-bye, Miz Katie . . . I love you, Miz Katie . . . thank you, Miz Katie . . . good-bye.'' Josepha was holding William and wiping at her eyes with the fat back of her free hand. Then Katie looked up and saw me on the other side of the room, holding my bag and waiting for the other two.

‘‘Oh, Mayme!'' she said, her eyes flooding with tears again. Slowly she walked toward me and opened her arms. I dropped the bag and fell into her embrace.

‘‘Aren't you going to wait for Henry and Jeremiah?'' Katie asked. ‘‘They said they'd be back out this morning.''

‘‘I couldn't bear it,'' I said. ‘‘It'll make everything easier for everyone if we're just gone. You've got enough to worry about with your uncle and all.''

Katie nodded and we just stood a few seconds holding each other tight.

‘‘I love you so much,'' I said softly. ‘‘I'll never forget you.''

‘‘Oh, Mayme, don't talk like that! We'll see each other again real soon. Uncle Templeton will come back, and you write me a letter to Mrs. Hammond's store telling me where you are and when you find those people of Josepha's. Then we'll come and get you.''

I just nodded.

‘‘I love you, Mayme,'' Katie said.

We stood back from each other. Our eyes were both wet, but at last we looked each other in the eyes and smiled.

Then I took a deep breath, picked up my blanket and bag again, and slowly walked toward the parlor. Emma and Josepha followed.

‘‘You all write to me as soon as you find those people,'' said Katie. ‘‘As soon as Uncle Templeton gets back, we'll come!''

Slowly the three of us, Josepha still carrying William, walked out the back door.

Suddenly we heard the sound of horses' hooves coming fast down the road. We looked up and saw a cloud of dust rising above the trees even before we could see who was coming. I felt that old fear of discovery we always felt when anyone had approached Rosewood over the past two years. My muscles tensed, as if ready to run down to the slave cabins to light the fires that were no longer there. I looked at Katie and our eyes met, and we shared a sad smile, knowing we were both seeing those same memories in our minds. But those days were over. The only people we needed to hide from were the McSimmons. For Josepha's sake, yes, but mostly for Emma's and William's. For their safety, we were planning to take the road away from Greens Crossing. But it never crossed our minds that anyone from the McSimmons plantation might be riding toward us at that moment. Looking back, it was mighty foolish for us to just stand there, out in the open like that, waiting to see who was coming. I suppose we were hoping it was Papa.

It wasn't.

I
NTERROGATION
24

W
HEN THE RIDER BROKE INTO THE YARD, DUST
flying, we were all surprised to see Henry. I knew something was wrong. Jeremiah wasn't with him. I don't know if I was more disappointed or relieved not to have to say another good-bye to him.

Henry jumped off the horse before the animal had even come to a full stop.

‘‘You girls better git,'' he called, turning his head to search the road behind him. ‘‘Mistress McSimmons is on her way out here right now. She was still at de general store w'en I lef '. Now, hurry on outta here.''

‘‘Miss Katie, what should I do?'' asked Emma frantically. ‘‘Should I go hide me an' William in de cellar agin?''

Katie thought a moment. ‘‘No, Emma. We can't take that chance now with my uncle around. Henry's right. Go, all of you, as fast as you can at least until you reach the trees.''

‘‘But what about Jeremiah—'' I began.

‘‘He's on his way out,'' interrupted Henry. ‘‘I passed him on my way. But you can't wait fer him. You's gotter git.''

Swallowing hard, I tried not to show my disappointment, and we all began moving away from the house. Then I ran back and hugged Katie one last time, my eyes hot with tears, then ran to rejoin the others and led them quickly away.

As we went, I knew Katie was standing on the porch, watching us leave.

We hurried away, and I took William, since Emma already had a heavier bag with belongings for William and herself. Josepha huffed and puffed, but I think the thought of facing Mistress McSimmons again kept her moving. I wouldn't have thought a woman her size could move so fast. Finally as the road began to bend into the woods, I stopped and turned back. I could barely make Katie out in the distance, but she was still there. I raised my hand and waved. I saw her wave back.

A chill swept through me, a chill of fear that I might never see her again.

‘‘Good-bye, Katie,'' I whispered to myself. ‘‘I'll never forget you.''

Almost that same moment a buggy came careening into the yard, sending dust in every direction.

Katie quickly dropped her hand, pulled her eyes away from our retreating backs, and went into the house.

‘‘You'd better get out of sight, Henry,'' she said as she went.

As the door closed behind Katie, Henry disappeared in the direction of the barn.

The woman inside the buggy kept yelling and whacking the reins on her horse's back until she practically skidded to a stop by the kitchen door at the back of the house.

Mr. Clairborne had been expecting the lawyer, and Katie watched from the window as he walked toward the buggy.

When the lady stepped to the ground, he looked surprised and quickly reached for his hat, but it was soon obvious that his visitor wasn't interested in niceties.

‘‘I'm looking for the Clairborne girl,'' she said.

‘‘She's inside, ma'am,'' said Katie's uncle. ‘‘But if you—''

‘‘Are you the new owner?'' she interrupted.

‘‘I am,'' replied Katie's uncle, clearly irritated at the woman's demanding tone.

‘‘Then perhaps you can tell me if it's true what they say's been going on around here—that strays and runaways and coloreds have been hiding out here.''

‘‘There were a parcel of 'em, all right,'' replied Mr. Clairborne, ‘‘—kids, couple of darkies, a little girl— But don't worry—I ran them off.''

‘‘You what!''

‘‘I told my niece to get rid of them. This is my place now and I didn't want them around.''

‘‘You fool!''

‘‘Look, lady—I don't know who you are, but you got no cause to talk to me like that. This is my place, and if you don't show some civility in that tongue of yours, I'll run you off too. The truth is, I don't like you much.''

‘‘I apologize,'' said Mrs. McSimmons, flustered but obviously realizing she'd let her anger get the better of her. ‘‘Tell me, then, when did she leave—the darkie girl?''

‘‘The little girl was white, ma'am. But I ain't seen her around the place in a long time.''

‘‘I'm not looking for a white girl. I'm looking for a runaway nigger, skinny as a post. Good-looking . . . with a baby.''

‘‘Don't know, ma'am . . . yeah, she might have been here. I didn't pay that close of attention to what they all looked like. All I wanted was rid of 'em. And like I say, they're gone now.''

‘‘Then, where's the other girl, the Clairborne girl they say's not too bright?''

‘‘That's my niece. I think she's inside. She—''

But already Mrs. McSimmons had turned and was walking toward the house.

Katie was still watching from the window, praying desperately that Mistress McSimmons wouldn't glance in the other direction before we disappeared from sight.

Now Mistress McSimmons was walking straight toward her with a determined look on her face, and Katie began to tremble. She took a deep breath, wanting to appear calm, then went to the door and stepped outside to await her visitor. Katie allowed herself one quick look in our direction. She saw me disappear behind a tree. When she turned back, Mrs. McSimmons' eyes were on her. Katie swallowed. Mrs. McSimmons looked in the direction we'd gone and Katie held her breath, but then the woman looked back at Katie, eyes narrowing. Whether the wife of little William's father recognized her at first, Katie could not tell. She just stood for a moment looking her up and down.

‘‘You had a darkie girl here,'' she said in a demanding voice. ‘‘Where is she?''

‘‘Who, ma'am?'' replied Katie.

‘‘Is everyone around this place dense!'' exclaimed Mrs. McSimmons. ‘‘The colored girl you were hiding.''

‘‘There have been a lot of people here, ma'am. My cousin Mayme was here for two years—she's half colored.''

‘‘Did she have a baby?''

‘‘No, ma'am.''

‘‘What about the others?''

‘‘There were some others too, but they've . . . uh, been gone for a while.''

‘‘Where did they go . . . why did they leave?''

‘‘My uncle made them.''

‘‘How long ago?''

‘‘Uh . . . the little girl's been gone a few weeks.''

‘‘Where did she go?''

‘‘Home.''

‘‘Another darkie?''

‘‘No, ma'am—she's white.''

‘‘I am only interested in the darkies you had here! How long have the rest been gone?''

‘‘A while, ma'am.''

‘‘Where did they go?''

‘‘I don't know.''

‘‘And you're the only one left now. . . besides your uncle, I mean.''

‘‘Yes, ma'am. I'm the only girl here.''

Mrs. McSimmons glanced around in annoyance, seemingly debating inside herself whether she ought to search the house in spite of what Katie said. Then she looked at Katie again and decided not to.

‘‘If I find out you have been lying to me, young lady,'' she said, ‘‘you will regret it. In the meantime, I intend to make further inquiries . . . then I will be back.''

She turned and stepped down off the porch.

Clearly exasperated, Mrs. McSimmons climbed back into her own buggy, turned her horse, and rode back toward town more irritated than ever.

By this time, Josepha, Emma, and I were around the bend where the shadows of the trees fell across the road. I don't know why I glanced back again, because I knew the house was out of sight.

Then I turned toward the road again, and we slowed our pace a bit, to catch our breath. We kept walking, though, because wherever we were bound and whatever our future held, it was high time we got on with it.

We hadn't brought along much water, both because it was heavy to carry and there were enough streams and small rivers everywhere that we'd be able to find all we needed. So we stopped every so often to drink and rest. Most of the weight in our bags was food we'd brought along—enough for about a week, we figured, if we didn't eat too much. We didn't know how long it would take us to find the folks Josepha knew— probably longer than that.

I didn't really care how fast we went, I just wanted to get far enough away from Oakwood and Greens Crossing that we didn't have to worry about anyone connected to the McSimmons place seeing us. I'd start to feel more comfortable once we were ten or fifteen miles from Rosewood in the opposite direction. Then we could relax a bit.

We didn't get along too fast. Lugging William in the heat was a chore because he was fat and heavy. We took turns carrying him, but Emma and Josepha were sweating and tired in less than an hour. I began to wonder how we'd
ever
make it. William could walk a little by himself, but he tired out faster than the other two and then started begging to be carried again. Even without William, walking like this was mighty hard work for Josepha.