He turned and made his way back toward his house.
Suddenly a noise disturbed the quiet . . . booted feet clumped along the street half a block away.
Quickly he blew out the candle and crept back against the wall of his warehouse.
“. . . said they’d meet us at one . . .” whispered one of the men as they drew closer.
Cautiously he slipped out to follow them, straining to listen to the subdued conversation ahead of him.
“. . . why tonight?”
“. . . been given enough warnings . . . time for action . . .”
From somewhere a third man joined them. Under his arm he carried something white.
“. . . the horses?”
“McSimmons is bringing enough from his place. Didn’t want to wake up the whole town.”
“. . . meet on the north end of town.”
“. . . Sam said . . .”
“. . . same thing I heard . . . through fooling around . . .”
“. . . blood spilled tonight . . . before morning . . .”
“. . . that plantation house . . . smoldering cinders . . .”
The listener had heard enough. He hurriedly retraced his steps to his own place. He knew well enough what plantation house they were talking about. Whether he could get there in time to save it and prevent bloodshed, he didn’t know.
Five minutes later he was saddling his own horse in the darkness. He would leave town by the southern road, then circle back around, hoping the others wouldn’t hear him. He would probably have a forty-minute lead on them, maybe an hour at best.
How to wake his friends without getting his head blown off was a question he had not considered until he neared his destination.
He rode into the yard between the house and barn, then pulled out his rifle and fired two quick shots into the air.
Amid the howls of a couple dogs and a few whinnies and bellows from the barn, lanterns were lit and yells of alarm sounded throughout the house.
“Inside there,” he called up toward the second-floor windows, where the reflection of a few lights had appeared. “Hey, wake up . . . it’s Herb Watson! Templeton . . . Ward . . . I’ve got to talk to you!”
A window slid open. Ward Daniels’ face appeared along with the barrel of a rifle.
“Who’s there?” he called down.
“Daniels . . . it’s Herb Watson!” shouted their visitor. “Get down here! They’re coming . . . they’re coming tonight!”
Ward pulled his head back inside and shut the window. Already Templeton was walking out of the barn, where he had fallen asleep on his watch. A minute later both brothers appeared on the front porch, Templeton carrying a lantern, Ward with his rifle still in hand.
“What’s it all about, Herb?” asked Templeton.
“I had to get you out of your beds—there’s no time to lose . . . they’re coming. They’re on the way. We’ve got to act fast. You’ve got to get out of here, all of you.”
“You think it’s that serious?” asked Ward.
“I overheard them. They’re determined to kill someone tonight, and burn this place to the ground. They said that blood would be spilled and your house in cinders before morning.”
The two brothers glanced at each other. They realized that their friend had never been more serious in his life.
“What about the talk we had . . . about your buying the place?” asked Templeton. “Now there’s no time.”
“I’ve been thinking about it riding out here,” said Watson. “If you’re willing to sell, we could arrange it now . . . right now. As long as we all sign, it will be legal. I had been working on some preliminary sales documents before tonight. I brought them along. They’re not perfect, but they’ll be legal. You’ll have to trust me that you’ll get what’s coming to you. We’ll have to arrange for payment later, after I’ve got your harvest in. I’ll pay you full price for all the cotton that comes in as well as for the house, land, and everything else. Just like I told you.”
Templeton thought a minute, then sighed deeply.
“We trust you, Herb,” he said. “I don’t suppose we have much choice. But even if we did, we’d trust you. You’ve proved yourself a good friend and a man of honor. Besides that, you may just have saved our lives coming here like this. So maybe you’re right . . . maybe the time has finally come. But . . . suppose you do buy it and they get angry and burn you out?
“I don’t think they will—it’s you they want to get rid of, not me.”
“I don’t like the idea of leaving you to face them alone. We’d have a better chance if we all—”
“Look, Templeton—if they see any of you, none of us will have a chance. The only way there will be any chance of saving Rosewood is if you are all gone when they get here. Don’t even think of trying to fight. There are too many of them. They would surround us and have the barn and house in flames in five minutes.”
“We could hide out in the woods.”
“They’ll search the entire area before they’re going to believe me. Come on, make up your minds—they’re on the way, I tell you!”
Templeton looked again at his brother. As he did, now two young men walked quickly toward them from the direction of what had once been the slave cabins. One was black, the other white. The latter had a Colt 45 in his hand. They had heard the shots, assumed danger, and had come running.
“It’s all right, boys, it’s Mr. Watson.”
“Jeremiah—good to see you,” said Watson, extending his hand to the young black man.
“Mister Watson,” said Jeremiah as they shook hands.
“This is Rob Paxton, Herb,” said Templeton. “He’s got himself engaged to our niece.”
The two shook hands.
“That’s quite a gun you’ve got there, son,” said Watson.
“My grandfather’s. I heard the shot, sir. I thought there might be danger.”
“There is, Rob,” said Ward. “But hopefully you won’t have to use that.”
“Trouble is on the way, boys,” said Templeton. “We’ve got to get everybody up and dressed. I’ll go upstairs and get the women. Jeremiah, you get your father and Josepha up here. Rob, you get started hitching our fastest horses to the two large wagons and the big buggy. Saddle a couple of single horses too. Jeremiah, you get back and help Rob with the wagons and horses. There’s nine of us. We won’t be able to take much, and we’ll have to move fast.”
“I’ll give you a hand, boys,” said Mr. Watson. “Let’s go!”
THE DECISION
54
When Katie and I had sleepily stumbled downstairs to the kitchen, Papa began. His words woke us the rest of the way up in a hurry.
“Okay,” he said. “You all heard the gunshots waking us up. That was Herb Watson come from town to warn us that trouble is afoot tonight. Sam Jenkins, Bill McSimmons, Dwight Steeves, and the rest of their crowd are on their way riding out here right now with guns and torches. Herb overheard them. They’re going to burn us out this time. It’s not just a threat. Herb has reiterated his offer to buy Rosewood here and now—lock, stock, and barrel, and take care of our harvest and give us enough to set ourselves up somewhere else. So we’ve got a decision to make, and we have to make it fast.”
He looked seriously at both of us. Our eyes were wide as we listened, both scared and at the same time stunned with grief.
“We talked about Herb’s offer before,” he went on. “None of us have wanted to think of selling Rosewood. The time has come when we may have no choice. If we’re still here when they get here, they will burn Rosewood to the ground. And if they get wild enough to start shooting, I have the feeling they will be trying to kill either Ward or me or Henry or Jeremiah. I don’t know how to be any more clear than that—if we don’t act immediately, you girls may be burying one of us by tomorrow. We have to leave, and leave now. Selling Rosewood to Mr. Watson, now . . . tonight, may be the only way to save it.”
Again he paused and looked at us. Nelda had jo
ined us and was holding one of my hands and one of Katie’s.
“So . . . there it is. We either stay and fight—and if we do, it will mean with guns, and it’ll mean having to shoot to kill or be killed because these men are evil men and they’ve finally had enough of us. Or it means we sign Rosewood over and sell it to Herb. We lose Rosewood either way.”
He looked around. Katie and I were both crying.
The room grew deathly quiet. Even though the danger to us all was imminent, Papa sat patiently. He knew what a momentous decision this was. Our past together, and Katie’s whole life, was suddenly on the line. Our whole future was at stake.
It was a decision we had to make together. But everyone in the room knew that it was really Katie’s decision, and hers alone to make. It was only because of her that any of our names were on the deed at all.
I looked at her. I knew she was remembering the terrible night her family had been murdered.
“Couldn’t we . . . hide in the cellar, Uncle Templeton?” she said, almost in a little girl’s voice.
“Kathleen,” said Papa in the most tender voice I’d ever heard from him. “If they come and find the house empty, they will either search for us until they find us, or burn the house to the ground as sure as we are sitting here. We have no choice. It’s leave or lose everything.”
“He is right, Kathleen,” said Uncle Ward. “Herb heard them with his own ears. They are deadly serious this time.”
“Kathleen,” said Papa, “the only way for us to save this house is for us to be gone and to sell it to Mr. Watson. Even that may not save it. But it’s our only chance. We have to love Rosewood enough to let it go.”
Again it was silent. It was hard to absorb Papa’s words. We all sat down for a minute or two thinking about what he had said. The words had gotten inside Katie and she knew they were true.
She began to weep, then slowly nodded.
“We’ll sell,” she whispered so quietly we could hardly hear her. But this time, soft as it was, it was a grown-up woman’s voice. Then she broke briefly into sobs. My heart was breaking for her.
Papa glanced at me.
“Sell,” I said, blinking back my tears.
“Ward?” said Papa.
“Sell,” said Uncle Ward.
“All right, then,” said Papa. “—Ward, you want to go out and tell Herb to come in? We’ll sign the papers and get out of here.”
Uncle Ward was leaving just as Josepha and Henry hurried into the kitchen.
Papa rose and walked around the table to Katie. She stood up and fell into his arms. He held her tight for several long seconds as she wept on his chest.
“You’re a brave lady, Kathleen,” he said. “This may be one of the most courageous things you’ve ever done. It takes as much courage to know when to let go as when to fight.”
Katie nodded, shaking in his arms as she cried.
Slowly he let her go and turned to the others.
“Josepha,” he said, “—coffee . . . lots of it . . . and strong. And start packing up as much food as we can carry. Nelda, help her, will you? Henry, the boys are out in the barn. They’ll need some help.”
“What’s it all about, Mister Templeton?”
“We’re leaving Rosewood, Henry. We have to leave tonight, right now. The Klan is after us . . . to destroy us.”
Uncle Ward and Mr. Watson ran back in.
“All right, then,” said Papa. “Let’s get these papers signed.”
“I’m offering to buy everything,” said Mr. Watson, taking some papers out of his pocket and spreading them on the table, “—the furniture, the land, the equipment, all the houses, the animals, and the full cotton crop. I’ll pay off your back taxes. It’s all spelled out in here. I’m pretty sure they won’t do anything to me once they realize you’re gone and it’s in my name. You’re going to have to trust me for the money.”
They looked each other in the eyes.
“We do trust you, Herb.”
“I brought what little cash I had on hand for you as a down payment and to get you safely away.”
He pulled out a stack of bills and set them on the table.
“It’s only about two hundred. But it will get you where you’re going. Don’t even tell me right now where you’re headed. I don’t want to know. Wire me or write me in care of Mrs. Hammond . . . that is—”
“Yes, we trust her,” said Papa. “She will agree to be our go-between and say nothing.”
“I’ll get you the rest of the money when you’re settled and after the crops are in.”
Mr. Watson glanced down at the papers in the light of the lantern sitting on the middle of the table.
“I’ll date them yesterday,” he said, then drew out a pen from his pocket, wrote on the top sheet, and set down the pen. “You want to read them over?”
“No time, Herb,” said Papa, picking up the pen that lay there.
He dipped it in the inkwell that sat in the center of the kitchen table and signed his name on the bottom of the second sheet.
He handed the pen to Uncle Ward.
He signed below Papa’s name.
Even Josepha stopped her bustling on the other side of the kitchen and watched. Every eye in the room was on those papers sitting on the table.
Uncle Ward handed the pen to me.
I signed my name.
By this time Katie had recovered herself. She wiped her eyes, then drew in a stoic breath, and took the pen from me. Our eyes met and we smiled. What worlds of aching love those smiles said to each other!
“Well, Mayme . . .” she said.
“Oh, Katie!”
Katie hesitated but a moment more, then signed her name below mine:
Kathleen O’Bannon Clairborne.
And that was it. Rosewood now belonged to Herb Watson.
“Well, Herb,” said Papa, “you just bought yourself a plantation. But—and I know I speak for all of us here—if they burn you out in revenge, you don’t owe us anything.”
The rest of us nodded.
They shook hands. Uncle Ward and Mr. Watson also shook hands. Then Katie turned and faced Mr. Watson.
“Please take good care of it, Mr. Watson,” she said, beginning to cry again but doing her best to smile through her tears, then embraced him.
“You can be sure I will, Kathleen,” he said. “When all this blows over, I hope you’ll come back to visit. I won’t get rid of any of your things. I’ll pack everything away. Anything you want and aren’t able to take now, you can return for anytime.”
Katie stepped back. Rob put his arm around her shoulders. Now I shook Mr. Watson’s hand.
“All right,” said Papa. “We have to pack as much as we can take, and quickly. Herb, how much time do you think we have?”
“Twenty . . . thirty minutes at the most. But you’ve got to be far enough away when they come that they can’t hear you, or they’ll come after you.”
“I understand.—All right, everyone, listen to me,” said Papa. “Essentials only—we need food, clothes, blankets—special things, books, mementos. Josepha, you go down to your place and get what you and Henry need. Nelda, run upstairs and get your things and your two carpetbags, then come down and finish with the food. Girls—you get your things upstairs. But you heard Herb, if there’s something you need you can’t take now, he can send it to us, or we’ll come back for it. Get going . . . hurry! We pull out in fifteen minutes.”
Everyone started to run from the room.
Katie paused and looked back one last time at the papers still sitting in the center of the table, then followed me upstairs.
GOOD-BYE
55
Outside Rob and Jeremiah had two wagons, each hitched to two horses, ready beside the house.
Within minutes, things starting piling in—carpetbags, tools, boxes, loose clothes and blankets, boxes and bags of silverware and cookery and jars and plates, food, pans, bags of beans and sugar and dried meat and cheese and what bread we had, rope, pi
llows, water containers, soap, hats, boots, gloves, spare wagon and leather parts for repairs, saddles, feed for the horses, and the supplies we thought we would need for a long trip. My, but what a mess it was—ten people grabbing and throwing in things faster than they could think about it.
Then came two saddled single horses, and last the smaller carriage. Henry ran up from their house with an armload of clothes and quilts, Josepha’s two prized books wrapped in them. As for Josepha herself, she was bustling back and forth from the kitchen with food and pots and what supplies she could carry. Rob now ran to collect his few things. The place was a pandemonium of frantic activity. It was amazing how quickly the wagons filled.
Papa and Mr. Watson walked out of the house into the night. All about them everyone was running back and forth from the house to the wagons.
“I don’t know where you’ll go to first,” said Watson. “The main thing is to get as far away from here tonight as you can. If I know Bill and Sam, they’ll send out a search party in the morning. But once it settles down, I meant what I said about coming back for anything you want . . . tools, furniture, family heirlooms, even that piano in there of Kathleen’s mama’s.”
“Thanks, Herb,” said Templeton, nodding. “That means a great deal to Kathleen. This has been her home more than any of the rest of ours. She spent her whole life here.”
As if knowing they were talking about her, Katie now walked toward the two men.
“This is the second saddest day of my life,” she said. “But I want to thank you, Mr. Watson, for saving Rosewood . . . even if I may never see it again.”
“You will see it again, Kathleen. I was just telling your uncle that you are all welcome anytime. This will always be your home.”
Katie stepped forward and kissed him on the cheek and tried to force a smile.
“Thank you, Mr. Watson,” she said in a soft voice.
In another ten minutes things began to slow down and gradually we all began to cluster around the wagons. Then Aunt Nelda came rushing toward Mr. Watson.
“Mr. Watson, I almost forgot,” she said. “The horse and buggy that I rented in Charlotte—”
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