THE WEEKS WENT BY AND WE TOOK A WAGONLOAD into town every four or five days. Gradually as we picked we got faster.
The man at the mill was a little curious why it seemed to be going so slow when he was getting deliveries from the other plantations by the thousands of pounds. But as long as the cotton came in and looked okay, he didn’t ask too many questions.
One day Katie returned from town and came out to the field where I was working. Aleta had gotten tired and gone back in, and Emma had been with William all day because he had become a little sick and fussy for a day or two.
As Katie approached I saw that she was holding an envelope. From the look on her face, I’d have thought somebody was dead.
“This was in the mail, Mayme,” she said, showing it to me.
“What does it say?”
“ ‘To Rosalind Clairborne, Rosewood,’ ” Katie read. “ ‘This is to inform you that your loan of $150 is due and payable on September 29, 1865. If not paid in full, foreclosure proceedings will begin immediately.’ ”
She looked up at me with a forlorn expression on her face. “That’s three days from now, Mayme! What are we going to do?”
“We’ve got to pick as much cotton as we can before then!” I said.
The rest of that day we picked faster than we’d picked the whole time. Katie explained to Aleta and Emma how dire the situation had become.
“I know you’re tired, Aleta,” she said, “but we’ve got to keep working together. And, Emma, do you think William could come back out?”
“Yes’m, Miz Katie. I’ll bring him out an’ den I’ll help too. We gotter save Rosewood fer you, Miz Katie, we jes’ gotter.”
We picked till we were exhausted, then took time out to milk the cows and eat something. After that Katie and I went back out ourselves and were still picking when it was finally so dark we couldn’t see the white of the cotton anymore.
“We’ve got to quit, Katie,” I said. “We can start up again tomorrow. It’s no use going any more now.”
She didn’t say a word. We walked back to the house together in silence, completely worn out. Aleta was already asleep. Emma and William had fallen asleep together on the couch in the parlor. We went inside, dragged ourselves up the stairs, and flopped into bed without even washing or getting undressed.
When I woke up the next morning the sun was barely up. I poked my head into Katie’s room, but she wasn’t there. I went downstairs but couldn’t find her anywhere.
I went outside and walked toward the field where we’d been working. There was Katie in the distance, bending down and working her way along a row like she’d never gone to bed at all. I went back into the house and quickly ate something, then packed up some bread and milk for her and went out to join her.
She glanced up as I came. From the pale look on her face, I could tell she hadn’t eaten or had anything to drink yet. I gave her the bread and jug of milk. She smiled wearily and ate it, though I think by now her complete exhaustion had made it so she didn’t feel hungry anymore.
An hour later Aleta wandered out, hair messy and sleep still in her eyes. Then a little while after that Emma walked out, holding William.
“Katie,” I said, “you’ve been working hard. Why don’t you go in with Aleta and Emma, and the three of you have some breakfast?”
“What about you, Mayme?” she said wearily.
“I’m fine,” I said. “I’m feeling good. Then you three can come join me after you’ve had something to eat.”
She didn’t argue but just turned and started walking toward the house. Aleta and Emma followed her. An hour later we were all four working again in the field.
About the middle of the morning, I glanced up and saw a tall black figure walking toward us. We’d been so occupied that none of us had noticed him.
I paused and stood up, stretching my back. About the same time Katie noticed him too and walked over to meet him near where I was standing.
“You ladies is workin’ mighty hard,” said Jeremiah. “I been watchin’ the goin’s on at Mr. Watson’s mill,” he went on. “It seems t’ me dat you could use another couple er han’s at dis cotton o’ yers.”
Katie smiled a weary smile.
“I’m not going to pretend that we don’t need help, Jeremiah,” she said. “But what about your father? Does Henry—?”
“He don’ know where I went. I ain’t sayin’ he ain’t been askin’ lots er questions. But I ain’t tol’ him nuthin’ ’bout what I seen here.”
“Thank you, Jeremiah. We are all very appreciative of your help.”
Katie went back to the row she was working on. I started in picking again too, and Jeremiah fell in beside me, putting his pickings in my bag. He was even faster than me, and we could notice a difference right away in how fast the wagon filled. We found another bag in the barn and now started moving even faster. As we went we talked a little, mostly about how life used to be when we were both slaves. I suppose picking cotton couldn’t help but remind us.
We were dumping our pickings into two wagons on each side of the field. By the end of that day, with Jeremiah’s help, we had one of them nearly full. I don’t know what he was telling Henry, but he came back the next day, and the day after that. We were up every day at dawn. On the twenty-ninth, we worked till about noon, then finally stopped to get ready to take both wagons into town. However much we’d picked in these three weeks, we’d run out of time. But we’d done better than I’d expected. Whether it came to anything close to the one hundred fifty dollars Katie needed, neither of us knew.
We ate some lunch, then hitched a team of two horses to each wagon. To get all the cotton to town, I’d have to drive one of the wagons myself. It couldn’t be helped. Katie led her team off along on the road, and I climbed into the second wagon. Jeremiah jumped up beside me. We would take him partway into town, and he would walk the rest of the way by himself. Then I called to my two horses and followed Katie onto the road.
“Y’all hurry back!” said Emma as she and Aleta waved to us.
“And you be careful and watchful,” said Katie back to her.
“I will, Miz Katie. Aleta an’ me’ll stay inside da whole time.”