My legs wobbled as I dodged cow patties. I listened for the river, but I couldn’t hear it no more.
Instead I heard purple martins calling to each other as they got their last meal of the day. I heard crickets chirping and field mice just starting to rustle around in the tall grass. Someplace close by, cows was lowing, but I couldn’t see ’em. And from someplace else there was the clang of a dinner bell.
The sun was gone now and the first stars was peeking out of the darkening sky. In the distance I could see the pasture was broken by a patch of trees. Next to the trees was two houses. One had a rusted metal roof, the other looked to be shingled. I ain’t never seen houses so big, but I didn’t need nobody to tell me which one was for folks to live in and which one was the barn. My nose would tell me the difference.
Sure enough, once I got close, I could smell hay and manure. The animals was already shut up for the night, but they was still making small grunts and bleats as they settled down to sleep.
“Hello,” I called softly, just outside the tall wood doors. Wasn’t likely I’d get a reply, but it didn’t seem right just walking into a barn that didn’t belong to me.
When nobody answered, I lifted the rusty latch and eased inside the door. The big door squealed on its hinges, and from someplace in the darkness a cat called.
The barn smelled just like home, but it wasn’t. It belonged to somebody else, and I had no business being in it.
Should I go up to the house and let them folks know I’m here? Should I just go on up and knock on their door? If Mama ever told me what was the polite thing to do, I sure couldn’t remember. Wasn’t like we had farms like this in Gee’s Bend.
I sighed and sank into a mound of hay some goats was chewing on. “It’s just for one night,” I said aloud. What else could I do? I was worn out from the river and all that walking. I needed rest, and I didn’t have no idea where I was. I couldn’t go banging on somebody’s door after it was already dark. No telling what they might do.
No, I’d just have to wait till morning. I’d get up before dawn and scoot out of the barn, and nobody would even know I had been someplace I wasn’t supposed to be.
I picked up a long stalk of hay and put the tip in my mouth. Tasted like alfalfa. My insides jumped in excitement. Delilah would be jealous if she knew.
I kept chewing the end of the alfalfa till my belly quieted. Beside me a tall black mare nickered and rested her nose on the top of my head. I reached up so she could smell my palm, then leaned my head against the hard wood of the horse’s stall.
The mare’s nose was smoother than Delilah’s. And the skin around her mouth was silky as Rose’s cheek.
Was Delilah missing me yet? What about Daddy? By now he’d know I wasn’t coming home.
I settled deeper into the pile and pulled off my eye patch so I could tuck it under the quilt top I was using for a pillow. As I closed my eyes, I got a picture of Daddy and Ruben beside Mama’s bed.
Dear Lord, please don’t let them be too worried about me. Let Mama’s breath come easy and give baby Rose sweet dreams. Just a few more hours now. Then tomorrow, get me to Camden so I can find Doc Nelson and bring him home to Gee’s Bend.
This time it wasn’t a squirrel but the crowing of a rooster that woke me. Don’t reckon nobody could sleep through that sound.
At first I didn’t know where I was. But soon as I unfolded my legs and tried to stand up, I remembered. My whole body hurt, worse even than the time Delilah was in a mood and her hooves caught me right in the belly. And my eye itched. The one that don’t work no more. But I put the eye patch in place anyhow. Just for Mama.
Outside the door I heard whistling. The human kind. And it was getting closer.
I backed myself toward the wall of the mare’s stall, hoping it would hide me. But before I could get there, my heel turned the wrong way.
“Ow,” I said as I landed on my backside. Well, I’d done it now. Wasn’t no way for me to hide after all that racket.
Sure enough, the whistling stopped. I froze the way a rabbit does when it smells a dog. Then the door swung wide, creaking like a chorus of frogs.
At first I couldn’t see nothing but sunlight. I put my arm over my head to shield my eye and waited for the world to come into focus.
“Lookie what the storm blew in.” It was a lady’s voice, but it had a rough edge to it. Soon as I could make her out, my mouth dropped open.
She was white. That was the biggest thing. My whole life I ain’t never met nobody except colored folks like me. She was so pale it was like she wasn’t even alive. I wanted to reach out and touch her cheek, just to prove she was real.
She had her hair all piled up on the top of her head and held in place with shiny pins. From the waist up, she looked just like one of them ladies in the newspaper ad. From the waist down was a whole other story. She had big black boots peeking from below the hem of her dress. And hiding there in the folds of her blue calico skirt was the barrel of a shotgun.
I pushed my feet into the packed dirt floor, flattening my back against the horse stall. What was she doing with a shotgun?
Then it hit me.
There I was, a stranger in her barn. A little black girl with a patch over one eye.
My heart raced and I could feel sweat prickling my brow. She had every right to shoot me.
The lady pressed the shotgun into the floor and leaned on it like it was a cane. Then she twisted toward the barn door. “Patrick!” she said, throwing her head back. “It’s not an armadillo.” She chuckled and flashed a big toothy grin.
“No?” Patrick said, poking his head into the barn, his lips puckered. “Figured the way the yard’s all tore up, it had to be an armadillo. Them critters been known to dig runs up to twenty-five feet long.”
His eyes got wide soon as he saw me. “Well, I’ll be. You was right on the money, Mrs. Cobb. Should’ve knowed you was.”
Patrick squatted down next to me. He looked just like Reverend Irvin, only his hair was white and he had a beard. My shoulders relaxed a little seeing such a familiar-looking face.
“Child, how’d you end up in this here barn?” Patrick said. Then he lowered his voice, like he was telling me a secret. “Ain’t been thieving, now, have you?”
“Nossir, no’m.” I shook my head and looked from one to the other. “Ain’t nothing like that. It’s just my mama’s real sick so I’m on my way to Camden to fetch Doc Nelson.”
Mrs. Cobb moved in closer. She poked around my legs with the barrel of the shotgun. Like she was looking for something. “That true? Now, you wouldn’t be telling me a story, would you, girl?”
“No’m.” I hunched my shoulders and tried to keep my lips from trembling. “I promise it ain’t like that. I just fell to sleep here. The ferry busted loose and took me down the river. I walked fast as I could, but this is as far as I got before it turned dark.” I stopped to catch my breath. “I didn’t mean no harm. It’s just I ain’t never been to Camden before.” I blinked back tears. “I don’t even know where I am!”
They was both silent as I straightened my eye patch. Mrs. Cobb looked at Patrick, then back at me. There was something in that look made me want to get up and run. But where in the world was I gonna go?
“Girl, did you say you rode the ferry?” Mrs. Cobb’s voice was softer now, gentle even. Her lips was curved into a half smile that didn’t all the way reach her eyes.
“You from Gee’s Bend, then?” she said, tracing the curve of my chin with her fingernail.
I wanted to give her the right answer, the one Mama would say. But I couldn’t think what that was. So I just nodded.
“Well, that changes everything.” Mrs. Cobb glanced back at the old man. “Remember, Patrick? It was Mr. Cobb himself who told me ‘take care of the folks in Gee’s Bend.’”
“Yes’m.” Patrick reached around the side of the door. “Want me to hitch up the wagon?”
I looked from one to the other. What was they talking about, take care of the folks in Gee’s Bend? Was they planning to help us? Lord knows, times had been hard lately with the cotton crop coming in so small. Wasn’t noplace for us to go except farther and farther in debt.
Mrs. Cobb put her finger to her lip like she was thinking. Then her face lightened up. “Oh, no, Patrick. This young lady came all the way from Gee’s Bend. Poor thing spent the whole night in the barn.” Her fingers drummed on my shoulder. “Crank up the motorcar.”
A motorcar? I was gonna ride in a motorcar? Fast as they go, I’d have the doctor at Mama’s bedside by suppertime. Mrs. Cobb sure was the answer to my prayers.
“You gonna take me to Camden?”
“That’s right.” Mrs. Cobb ground her teeth together hard enough so that I could hear ’em.
Then I remembered. Mrs. Cobb! The one Ruben had warned me about. Surely he wasn’t talking about
this
Mrs. Cobb.
I looked up at her long neck and straight back. She caught me looking and flashed me another smile.
“But first,” she said, her hand now on my shoulder, “first, I’m taking our special guest up to the big house. So we can have us a private conversation.”
She was treating me so nice, like I was kinfolk or something. Had to be another Mrs. Cobb, that’s all there was to it. Ruben couldn’t be talking about this one.
“Come on, then,” Mrs. Cobb said, motioning with the shotgun. I real quick grabbed my quilting things. As I checked to be sure my needle was in place, something moved between my legs. I could hear its little clawed feet clicking against the hard floor.
“It’s that stinking armadillo!” Mrs. Cobb screamed. Like the world was coming to an end.
Right away Patrick scrambled after it. But that armadillo was faster than he was.
“Hold on, Patrick,” Mrs. Cobb said, lifting that shotgun. Just about before I could blink she had cocked and aimed and was ready to shoot.
The quilt dropped to the ground as I plugged my ears with my fingers and squeezed shut my eyes.
Next thing I saw was that armadillo lying on its side, a hole right through its thick skin.
I ran over to where Patrick was kneeling beside the little body. Its insides was blasted out. I reckon it was a good thing I didn’t have nothing more than alfalfa hay in my belly right then. Otherwise there might have been another mess to clean up.
Now, why did Mrs. Cobb have to do that? Why did she have to go and shoot that poor armadillo? I swiped my eyes. Mama would have got me to chase it out into the woods, maybe to the swamp even. Wouldn’t have been no bother to nobody then.
“Reckon I’ll dig a hole for it,” Patrick said.
“Not now, Patrick,” Mrs. Cobb said sharply. “Go on now and crank the motorcar.”
Patrick whispered something that sounded like a prayer. Then he turned away from the armadillo, his brow creased and mouth turning down at the corners.
It wasn’t just me. Patrick didn’t think it was right neither.
I took a quick glance back at Mrs. Cobb. She was holding herself tall and stiff, her face blank as a cotton field that’s ready for seed. “Hurry up, now,” she said.
Wasn’t nothing else for me to do but pick up my quilting things and head toward the door. Mrs. Cobb fell in step behind me. After just two steps, something poked me in the center of my back. I wasn’t sure if it was her fingers or the barrel of that shotgun, but I didn’t dare turn around to find out.
The Big House
THE BIG HOUSE WAS PAINTED WHITE, AND THE ROOF had green shingles. There was a porch winding all the way around it, and below the porch was yellow mums and purple pansies growing in the cleanest beds you ever did see. Not a weed in sight.
Was this the kind of house Etta Mae lived in when she was working in Mobile? Why, there was even a rail to hold on to when you climbed the stairs. And the front door had real glass panes.
Mrs. Cobb held the door open so I could walk right through. She leaned the shotgun against the wall next to the front door. “Welcome to our home,” she said with a small bow, like I was a queen or something. Then she held out her hand. “My name is Mrs. Cobb. And you are?”
“Ludelphia. Ludelphia Bennett,” I said, giving a curtsy just the way Mama taught me. She pulled back a little, her eyes looking me up and down. Then she wrinkled her nose. I reckon I looked a sight after dragging myself through the river and the woods and sleeping in the barn.
“Let’s get you cleaned up, Ludelphia Bennett,” she said. “Washroom’s right down the hall.”
A washroom too? Ain’t never washed myself in nothing but the spring or a metal tub set out on the front porch of the cabin. I couldn’t wait to see what it looked like.
Mrs. Cobb stepped back as I hurried across the shiny wood floor and set my feet on a rug that stretched down the hallway. You ain’t never stepped on a rug so soft. My feet seemed to sink and kept sinking right deep down into it.
“It’s like fresh pulled cotton, only it don’t puff up into the air,” I said, looking back at Mrs. Cobb. Her eyes was cast down and her face was frozen.
What was the matter now? Had I said something wrong?
Soon as I looked down, I knew. It was my dirty feet. They had left footprints all along that fluffy rug.
“I’m sorry.” I bent down to wipe ’em away.
She waved me away with her hand, then reached up to tuck a stray hair behind her ear. “Go on to the washroom.”
The hallway to the washroom seemed to go on forever. It was wide, almost like a room itself, and there was no newspaper on the walls and no cracks noplace. Instead there was pictures covered in glass and hung in silver frames. All the way down the hall they went, making one long row. I stopped in the middle of the hallway where there was one of Mrs. Cobb in a long white dress holding a bunch of flowers. Another one had a baby girl sitting all proper-like on Mrs. Cobb’s knees.
I held my quilt with one hand and reached toward the picture with the other. I ain’t never seen pictures of real people before. Even the ones in the newspaper was just drawings. And there was something about the baby that made me want to get real close.