She sassy ’bout the whole thing.
When she ain’t ridin’ with her papa, she ridin’ with Miss Beatrice. Her and horse off to Fairhill most every day. While she out gettin’ sweaty, young county gentlemens buzzin’ round Miss Honey and Miss Suellen like bees. Them girls spring honey—watery but so delicate and sweet!
Them girls and Miss Carreen and Miss India Wilkes too, they got deportment. They passin’ through they days with nary a ripple. Miss Katie, she ripple like catfish in the shallows. Even when you don’t sees Miss Katie, you knows she there!
Most Mistress no more free do what they want than I is or Pork is or ary colored. They gots to wear they bustles and they gots to keep they pale face out the sun and they gots tell ary gentleman within hearin’ how he mostest gentleman ever strut the earth. That ain’t Miss Katie O’Hara!
Other womens brings Miss Ellen they troubles. They brings they secrets and troubles to Miss Ellen ’count Miss Ellen patient like them saints she studyin’ when she was little. Womens ain’t gonna ever come to Miss Katie. Even when Miss Katie growed ain’t no woman gonna tell her no troubles. Miss Katie ain’t no saint like Miss Ellen. She ain’t no part of no saint. When Miss Ellen see hurtin’, she do somethin’ ’bout it. Miss Katie don’t see no hurtin’, she don’t see no sufferin’, what she see is sheownself !
I ask myself why I loves her? Why I want know everything she up to? Why I follow everywhere she go? She ain’t one bit like me. She ain’t like most folks!
’Count who she am! She more Miss Katie than Miss Carreen Miss Carreen, even Master Ashley ain’t so much who he am as Miss Katie am who she am! She like sun goin’ down and moon comin’ up. Ain’t nothin’ you can do ’bout it but be glad.
Deportment only thing stand between you and the Devil. Only shield chase Satan away is deportment and big smile. If you actin’ happy and got deportment, Ol’ Devil pass you up, find some other sinner do mischief to.
Miss Beatrice, she don’t got deportment, but Miss Katie throw her up to me. “Beatrice this” and “Beatrice that,” like Mistress Beatrice Tarleton and her brood are ’zample. “Beatrice doesn’t care if her skin is ‘pearly white,’ Mammy,” Miss Katie say. “Beatrice believes most ‘gentlemen’ are fools.”
Distaste for that woman so strong I gets knots in my throat.
I don’t dare tell Miss Katie what Miss Beatrice don’t know nothin’ ’bout. Here what I want say to her:
Yes, Miss Beatrice, she work hard, yes, she doin’ Mistress things, and prayin’ ’bout ’em, and she brave and she don’t let herself do foolishness and she know more ’bout them horses than most men. But Miss Beatrice husband, Master Jim, own thousand acres and all the money he want. Now ’n’ again Master Jim go Georgia legislature to make them laws everybody else gots to obey. Even important white Masters listen to Miss Beatrice and smile like fools no matter what foolishness she sayin’!
But that ’count of who she marry! If Miss Beatrice white trash like Mrs. Slattery or colored girl like Teena, she best hold her tongue and clap a big smile on she face!
All Miss Beatrice got, she got ’count she marry Master Hugh. That’s how come Momma and me fret ’bout who you marry, ’count you marry wrong man you ain’t gonna be nobody. You might be drunkard wife or gambler wife or pauper wife. And if you don’t marries, you be spinster sittin’ at the foot of the table not darin’ say nothin’ to distress you kin. Oh, Miss Katie be mealymouth then! Woman who don’t never marry and woman marry a fool, they life be blight!
* * *
Eight year ago, Miss Katie climb on her first horse. She always ridin’ astride like a boy, but now she growed, so Miss Ellen have Jonesboro saddlemaker make a fine sidesaddle, red just like Beelzebub.
Now Miss Katie, she afeared of Momma, so she don’t sass or nothin’. She thank her Momma, but week after, Big Sam ask me what that lady saddle doin’ hangin’ in the tobacco barn and why do Toby unsaddle and saddle twict every time Miss Katie go ridin’.
So I asks Miss Katie, and she say she “prefer” ride just like she done, just like Papa Gerald do.
So I tells her, “Honey, ain’t no lady ever ride a horse like a man.”
She answer back. Miss Beatrice has told Miss Katie that “Catherine the Great” rode man saddle and told her “ladies in waiting” ride man saddle too. I tells Miss Katie, if they them “ladies in waiting” been waitin’ for husband, they waitin’ long time.
Miss Katie ain’t goin’ Fayetteville Female Academy till next fall, but she already know everything. She tell me “ladies in waitin’” is important ladies at court; them ladies ridin’ man saddles with Catherine the Great be Masters’ daughters.
“Catherine the Great weren’t no Georgia lady,” I says. “Maybe them ‘ladies in waitin’” weren’t after no husbands. Maybe they caught husbands already.”
Katie forehead crinkle up. “Why would any husband care if I ride sidesaddle?” Miss Katie dewy eyed like a child.
I don’t say no more. Some things even Mammies ain’t ’splainin’.
Come summer, Wilkeses’ cousins Charles and Melanie Hamilton visit Twelve Oaks and come to all the barbecues. Hamiltons’ Papa and Momma dead, so they in Atlanta with they Aunt Pittypat, who would talk a mockingbird to death! ’Count Charles Hamilton livin’ in Atlanta, Charles ain’t bold like the Tarleton twins. Miss Melanie shy little thing but got good deportment.
Charles and Melanie friends with Wilkes girls and Suellen, but Miss Katie don’t pay ’em no mind.
Sometimes Miss Katie ride out with Master Ashley. They ain’t gallopin’, they talkin’. Master Ashley think Miss Katie still a child ’count she ridin’ like a boy. It ain’t no secret they ridin’ out, but they don’t flaunt it neither.
Master Ashley, he safe. He ain’t gonna take no advantage. Tarleton twins and them Calvert boys, they ain’t safe, but Miss Katie’d rather show her heels to ’em than set in some shady spot with some boy and get to know him too good.
The Twins’ body servant, Jeems, growed up with them, and Jeems know what Twins doin’ and what arybody else doin’ too! Jeems welcome in Tara kitchen arytime! Cook pour Jeems tea and he yarnin’.
Jeems say it funniest thing. “Stuart and Brent Tarleton, they bestest, fastest riders in Clayton County, ’cept for a girl.”
Jeems slap he thigh. Yesterday mornin’ they chase after Miss Katie, Stuart in the lead and Brent fallin’ back, through the woods, over the plowed ground, then Brent leadin’ and Stuart fallin’ back and splashin’ through river fords until they horses winded and Miss Katie gettin’ smaller and smaller till they can’t see her no more. “Spawn of the Devil,” Jeems tell us. “That what they call that Beelzebub horse: ‘Spawn of the Devil.’”
I don’t tell Miss Ellen ’bout lady saddle gatherin’ dust in the tobacco barn and Big Sam don’t neither, but Miss Ellen finds out she daughter ridin’ boy-like ’stead of girl-like, and Miss Ellen tell Miss Katie she has been deceitful and ladies ain’t never deceitful, no matter what. She tell Miss Katie man saddle unladylike and no girl ever get husband ridin’ unladylike.
Now Miss Katie pretend she repent, but she’s backslid before she done repentin’! She set her lip and gonna find some other way of ridin’ astride, like a boy.
Me, I don’t like what Miss Beatrice up to, tryin’ turn Miss Katie into someone like her. Miss Katie ain’t got no fine house and ain’t got no plantation and ain’t got no money and she keep this foolishness up she ain’t gonna have no husband give ’em to her!
So I tells Miss Katie her Momma right. If she keep ridin’ like a boy, she disappoint her husband somethin’ terrible.
Now Miss Katie don’t really care whether she catch no husband or not. Exceptin’ that dreamy Ashley, she ain’t got time of day for ary boy.
But she don’t want be told no neither. Bein’ told no gravel her.
Miss Katie a
sk why ridin’ like a boy gonna disappoint man she marry, and I gets a wicked notion. I christened Catholic, married AME, and sits in the garret of Jonesboro Baptist Church every Sunday. I know what Satan’s mischief look like. Look like my notion!
Master Gerald been ’couragin’ Miss Katie in this horse foolishness ’thout puttin’ he name to it. Master Gerald ride out with her of an evening and they jumpin’ fences when they thinks nobody sees. Master Gerald all the time throwin’ up Miss Beatrice: Miss Beatrice this and Miss Beatrice that. Miss Ellen smilin’, but her smile peaked. Me, I figure Master Gerald got debts to pay. So I sweet as sweet potato pie when I tell Miss Katie, “You got to ask your papa ’bout that, honey. Got to ask a husband what a husband be lookin’ for.”
That were Satan mischief. I knows it were. I prays forgiveness.
Miss Katie waits talk to she Papa until family done eatin’ dinner and Miss Ellen upstairs with Carreen, who has got the sniffles.
Master Gerald in the chair Miss Ellen brought in when she gives he old chair to Big Sam. After so many years, new chair look as poorly as old chair. Everything get poorly ’thout we noticin’.
This evenin’ Master Gerald am satisfy. Prices good, we had good rains, and cotton bolls tight and burstin’. Master Gerald has bit he cigar and poured he drink of whiskey not knowin’ a powder keg ’bout to explode. I sets down in a side chair with my sewing basket. I takes out darnin’ and holds torn sock up, which he can’t help seein’ out corner of he eye, and I mutterin’ ’bout “certain gentleman don’t know enough to roll they sock afore they draw it on,” not loud, just loud enough he hear. If I not mutterin’, Master Gerald don’t know I breathin’.
Miss Katie come in and sit on the floor at his feet and make eyes at him. She jumps up to light his cigar. She ask if maybe he want water for to mix with he whiskey.
They talk horses. She reckons ain’t nobody could ride Beelzebub ’cept her ’n’ her Papa, not even Miss Beatrice. She tells him how, in Jonesboro t’other day, Storekeeper Kennedy say, “Your father, Gerald, he’s short and he’s Irish but he’s mighty!” Master Gerald like that fine and he swell up some, but he no fool and Miss Katie ain’t the first try slip somethin’ by him. He say, “Flattery, puss. Flattery has brought many a good man down.” But he pleased too and wouldn’t mind more of what bring them good men down. He say how President Buchanan sidin’ with planters ’gainst them Yankees, and Miss Katie, her mouth drop open, like she ’stonished her Papa know what the President do. Master Gerald roll President Buchanan’s words round in his mouth. “What is right and what is practicable are two different things.”
Miss Katie wants know “What’s ‘practicable’?”
Master Gerald say “ ‘Practicable,’ puss, is what can be accomplished. I’ve always favored what’s ‘practicable’ meself.”
She amazed, plumb amazed, how wise her Papa be, and her face shinin’ and he puffin’ on he cigar and I peerin’ into basket of unmended socks tryin’ not to laugh.
Miss Katie knowin’ ’zactly what I thinkin’, and she glance and glare fierce as a raccoon in a trap, which naturally sets me quiverin’ like shook jelly, and I looks off ’count I dare not look no more.
Miss Katie figures she better get to it ’fore I gets hilarious, so she put this sweet, sweet look on her puzzled little face. “Daddy, can I ask you a question?”
Dead serious he say, “No you can’t, Miss Katie. Master Gerald O’Hara is NOT to be approached!” and he chuckle and pat her shoulder. “You know I can’t resist a pretty girl.”
She make a puss-face at that, which I see, but he don’t. In her softest sweetest voice, Miss Katie say, “Papa, some silly people are sayin’ I must ride sidesaddle—instead of as you and Miss Beatrice do. When I ask why, they don’t answer or they beat around the bush. Somehow, if I do ride astride, when I marry I’ll disappoint my husband. I may not marry. I may never marry. But if I do, I’d so hate to disappoint my husband. What can they possibly mean? Exactly how might I disappoint him?”
Master Gerald spray whiskey out he mouth like he swallow soap and he cough and choke and he stub he cigar and he cough so hard Miss Katie jump up pattin’ he back and Master Gerald red as ripe apple.
When he settle, he drink he whiskey and swallow and she perchin’ on the arm of he chair, sayin’, “You know everything there is to know about horses, Father dear. How could riding astride disappoint my husband?”
Master Gerald look to me for help, but right away he knows who put Miss Katie up to this, and I smiles to let him know Mammy ain’t bailin’ him out. He dab he mouth with handkerchief and cough again—just to pass the time. “Katie, Katie, I believe I would like some water after all.”
Soon she gone Master Gerald glower like to melt me down!
When she bring he water, he sip it and smile one of them weak smiles growed men puts on pretendin’ be little boys and tell Miss Katie her Momma will explain ’bout the sidesaddle. He say, “Perhaps, she’s cautioned you already.”
Which notion gets me snortin’ into my handkerchief, but I pretends I blowin’ my nose.
Miss Katie wail, “But why? How can I hold a horse if I’m perched on his side like a saddlebag?” She march out and clump upstairs, and Master Gerald, he shake he finger at me but he don’t say nothin’.
I don’t know whether Katie ever ask her Momma how ridin’ astride would damage a maiden. Miss Katie never quit doin’ it.
How I Is Judas
TARA COTTON BRING twelve cent, which was the only good news that fall. Wheat half what it been and white folks’ banks and railroads start failin’, and in Kansas, abolitionists and slavers shootin’ each other. I thinkin’, Not again. Spirits dim and restless, swirlin’ all round like they makin’ room.
Dilcey visit Tara with her fool daughter, Prissy. We sittin’ on the kitchen porch. Everything hush like big storm a-gatherin’.
Dilcey tells me, “General Jackson kill Grandpap at Horseshoe Bend. Grandpap a Red Stick. ’Twas their land. This land”—(she look around like Red Sticks behind every Tara bush)—“be Creek land. Right here!”
I say, “Folks always killin’ folks. Seems like they can’t help theyself.”
She say, “Gonna do it again.”
Spirits flutterin’ round us like moths ’gainst window light. I shiverin’. I say, “Ain’t nothin’ you nor me can do.”
Dilcey say, “Them Redsticks knew how to die. Reckon Masters be any good at it?”
———
Tara gettin’ on like always. After supper, Pork put flowers in O’Hara bedroom. Miss Ellen gallivant round the county seein’ to arybody can’t do for theyownself. Overseer Wilkerson not so mean he’s been. Big Sam tell me Overseer got a woman.
Saturdays, Sam and Master Gerald go into Jonesboro sell cotton and stay for horse and slave sales. Sam say more Masters sellin’ they coloreds than buyin’ ’em. When Masters afeared, coloreds grieve.
When Master Gerald sell cotton, he stick he money in Frank Kennedy safe. Time to time, him and Big Sam load they pistols and ride train into Atlanta, where they put Tara money in Georgia Railroad Bank.
When they comes home, Master Gerald tell Miss Ellen Georgia Railroad Bank strong like rock. Georgia Railroad Bank ain’t gonna fail like them other banks.
Miss Ellen, she look at her husband long time ’thout sayin’ nary word. “Mr. O’Hara. My three daughters and I have confidence in your good judgment.”
Master Gerald step out on the porch to smoke he cigar. Late, ’thout makin’ nothin’ of it, he ride to Twelve Oaks askin’ have Master John hear ary rumors ’bout Georgia Railroad Bank?
Sundays be quiet and peaceful and wind whisperin’ cedars round Jonesboro Baptist Church, where whites and coloreds prays things get better afore they get worst. Preacher criticizin’ Jonesboro racetrack. He say “racin’ fever” worse than dropsy or yellow fever, but that
don’t stop the bettin’. Seem like less money Masters got, more they chance it.
Tarletons bettin’ ’gainst Calverts, Calverts bettin’ ’gainst Wilkeses, Wilkeses bettin’ ’gainst Tarletons. Masters smilin’ and noddin’ like no hard feelin’s, but they hands next they pistols.
Twelve Oaks cotton harvest month later than Tara cotton, so Wilkeses cotton harvest after panic start when cotton buyers vanish like smoke. Dilcey say Master John wins most he bets but sometimes “quiet as the grave” Sunday morning.
* * *
Most mornings Miss Katie and that red devil Beelzebub already out when I comes into the kitchen, and sometimes they ain’t be home till dark. Miss Katie afeared of she Momma. When Momma scold, Miss Katie hang she head and repent, but she out very next morning.
Miss Beatrice call on Master Gerald, and I serve ’em myself.
Miss Beatrice sittin’ bolt upright in the hard horsehide chair. She wearin’ she ridin’ garb, long leather gloves in she lap. Master Gerald pretendin’ she come visit him every single day, all the time, that this nothin’ unusual.
I sets tea tray on side table and goes stand in the corner, where Pork stand when he servin’.
Miss Beatrice say, “Gerald, when I must speak uncomfortable truths, I prefer something stronger than tea.”
It don’t take him no time to fetch he decanter. He glass dirty and he gonna send me for a washed glass, but Miss Beatrice say, “Just pour it in my teacup, Gerald.”
Which he do. She drinks it and holds her cup out again.
He wait on her till she wag she finger so he can sit down. “It’s your daughter, Gerald.”
Ruth’s Journey Page 30