The Color of Your Skin Ain't the Color of Your Heart

by Michael Phillips

  EREMIAH WAS IN BAD SHAPE THE NEXT MORNING. He tried to be brave like men always do, but you could tell he was in a lot of pain. One eye was swollen shut and there were great bloody welts all over his face. And he could hardly move or turn over from the broken ribs.

  Katie was back with Henry by midmorning. There wasn't much Henry could do for Jeremiah either. After he hadn't come home the night before, Henry was relieved that he was all right but pained to see him in such a state. We decided Jeremiah should stay at Rosewood another day or two, at least until some of the soreness had subsided enough that he could walk and get on a horse.

  Katie wanted to take him to Doc Carter.

  "I don't care what it costs," she said. "I'll take the money out of the bank."

  But Henry wouldn't hear of it.

  "I don' want ter arouse no talk," he said. "Doc's a good man, but he's da white folks' doc an' I don' want no talk 'bout dis. Dere's too much goin' on dese days, too many beatin's an' hangin's. I don' want ter rile nobody. Da bes' we can do is ter let dis drop an' jes' keep quiet 'bout it."

  Katie finally saw that he was right, and gradually Jeremiah got back to normal without the doc's help.

  The new year of 1866 came, and Katie was more anxious than ever to get to planting. But Henry kept saying it wasn't time yet and that we had to be patient.

  By late February the weather was slowly starting to turn warmer and Henry came out and ploughed one field. He told us what to ask for when we went to Mr. Watson's to buy seed, which we did, coming home with several big bags on the back of the wagon.

  We got one field planted, and Henry and Jeremiah got to work on ploughing another. Now all we could do was wait till the cotton grew up and then we'd pick it again. Unfortunately, events weren't so patient and didn't wait for the cotton.

  When we were alone, Katie and I still sometimes talked about what we were going to do with Aleta.

  Once Katie said to her, "Aleta, we've got to find your father. Don't you want to go back and live with him?"

  "No."

  "But why?"

  "I'm afraid of him. He's the reason my mother got killed."

  Katie and I looked at each other but didn't correct her. Perhaps, indirectly, Aleta's father was responsible, but it still seemed like someday we had to find out who he was. And so we kept going and didn't know what to do except keep her with us for a while longer. We had the feeling Henry knew more than he'd let on about Aleta and her father, and I couldn't help remembering what Reverend Hall had said to Katie. But we weren't sure what was the right thing to do.

  In the middle of April, Katie's world suddenly crashed when another letter arrived from the bank.

  To Rosalind Clairborne, it said,

  As you know, your second loan is due and payable next month. While foreclosure proceedings were halted last September with your payment of the first loan, 1 am afraid the bank will not be able to grant an extension on this present balance. There is pressure from New York to make sure all accounts are kept current. As a reminder, as I am certain your records will confirm, the balance due is $350. I hope to hear from you soon.

  Yours very truly, M. Taylor, Greens Crossing Bank

  Katie put down the letter with a look of disbelief on her face.

  "I think we'd better take the cotton in the barn to sell," she said. "We can't wait any longer, whatever the price is."

  The next day we hitched up two teams of two horses to the two wagons that had been sitting in the barn all winter. By now Emma and Aleta were enough used to things that Katie's and my leaving for a few hours wasn't so fearsome for them, though we still took our usual precautions in case anyone came.

  Mr. Watson seemed a little surprised to see us as we pulled up in front of his mill, though I thought either Katie or Henry had told him we had more cotton to sell. He looked it over as if he didn't like the looks of it too much, then had his men unload it and take it inside to weigh it while we waited. Katie was really nervous. She had her heart set on this cotton getting her the money she needed. I guess I was nervous too, but not like Katie. Actually, since I knew he made deliveries for Mr. Watson, I was thinking more about Jeremiah than the price of cotton and was looking around to see if he was there.

  "Well, Kathleen," said Mr. Watson when he walked out of the mill, "I don't have real good news for your mama. Some of the load must have gotten wet because there was some mildew around the edges. And the price is down right now. I'm afraid all I can give her is eleven cents a pound."

  Katie nodded as she listened. "And, uh ... how much does it come to, Mr. Watson?" she asked.

  "It came out to six hundred sixty-five pounds, which came to seventy-three dollars. I wish it was more, but I'm afraid that's the best I can do."

  I saw Katie's face go pale at the words "seventy-three dollars." I knew she had been hoping for three times that much.

  She took the money, but as soon as she began walking back to where I was standing by the wagons I saw tears filling her eyes.

  "It's not enough, Mayme," she said. "It's not enough. What are we going to do?"

  We walked down the street to the bank in silence. Katie put the money into her mother's account. She had taken a little more out of it through the winter, and with what she'd used for the seed, it now totaled one hundred eighty-seven dollars. That was a hundred sixty-three dollars less than the loan.

  Katie was right. It wasn't enough.

  WEEK OR TWO LATER, HENRY WAS WORKING IN the livery stalls one morning. Three men came in to saddle their horses. He hadn't been there when they'd dropped them off earlier and said he didn't know any of them. They didn't know he was there.

  As soon as he heard them start talking, Henry's ears perked up and he stopped still so he could listen and so they wouldn't hear him.

  "... say we go out there again," one of the men said.

  "The way I hear it," said the second man, "Clairborne ain't ever coming back from the war"

  "... think he's dead?" asked the third.

  "Ain't no telling ..."

  ". . . lots of men ... still missing. Maybe some of them just don't want to come back."

  "All I know is that if it's just the woman and her kid and a colored brat, what's to stop us?"

  "... still don't get us Ward ..

  "We been up and down the state looking ... every clue points right back here ... gotta be there ... should have tossed the place last time . .

  think that fancy-talking brother of his knows something ... should've pressed him harder."

  "Doubt he knows . .

  ". . . a yellow coward ... he'd a talked if we pressed him harder ... lost track of him too."

  "... what'd Sneed say?"

  "... go out tomorrow and nose around ..."

  By then the men were about done and started leading their horses out and that was all Henry heard.

  He knew they were talking about Rosewood and Katie's papa, and he recognized the name Sneed from being in Oakwood occasionally. He said he didn't like the sound of the men's voices. It sounded to him like we might be in some kind of danger.

  He snuck out and watched the men leave. Right then they were going in the opposite direction from Rosewood, so he went back to his work. But from the sound of it, they were planning on paying us another visit real soon.

  Henry worked hard to finish up his work that day, then told the livery owner that he was leaving for a day or two. Mr. Guiness asked him what for, but Henry said he couldn't say. Mr. Guiness wasn't none too happy about it, Henry said, but since Henry was determined, there wasn't much he could do about it.

  We saw Henry late that same afternoon. He walked into the barn just as Katie and I were finishing up the evening milking.

  "Aftahnoon t' you ladies," he said. "Dere's some biz'ness I gotter discuss wiff you"

  Henry's expression was more serious than usual. A worried look came over Katie's face.

  Aleta wasn't there, which I was glad of. Henry pulled up a stool and sat down and told us what he'd hear
d that morning.

  "Why'd dose three men be comin' here?" he asked.

  "They were here once before," said Katie.

  "Why's dat?"

  Katie looked over at me, and I know she was wondering whether she should tell Henry about her uncle and the gold coins she'd found in his trousers in the cellar.

  "They were looking for my uncle," she finally answered.

  "Dat uncle you don' want ter go live wif?"

  "No, my uncle that went to California and who's dead now

  Henry nodded slowly.

  "Well," he said after a bit, "I'm thinkin' dat maybe I oughter jes' stay wiff y'all fer a spell, an' sleep in da barn here agin, maybe jes' a night er two. We'll see what happens, jes' ter make sure dey don' mean no harm. I jes' didn't like da soun' er dose men."

  Katie nodded and said that would be fine.

  ENRY'D BEEN AROUND SO MUCH THROUGH the winter that his staying with us for a while didn't seem like that big a change from normal. I think we all slept a little better knowing he was down in the barn. We'd been taking care of ourselves for so long we'd stopped even thinking about it. But having Henry there made us realize all over again that we were just girls, not grown-ups. Even if Henry was black and just cleaned stalls and took care of horses in Greens Crossing, he was a grown-up. And he was a man too, and a big strong one. If something was to happen, he could do things we couldn't.

  By the time I got up and went outside the next morning, Henry already had half the cows milked. He was sitting there whistling softly to himself, looking like he was having the time of his life. He heard me come into the barn and turned around.

  "Mo'nin', Miz Mayme-y'all sleep well?"

  "Yes," I said.

  Being alone with Henry reminded me that we were both black, and both here sort of making ourselves at home on a white man's plantation. I guess Henry must have been thinking along the same lines.

  "Dis place be a powerful lot er work," said Henry. "You an' da others keepin' up wiff da milkin' an' da other chores?"

  "Yes," I said. "Even Emma's learning to work real hard, just like Katie did. Katie could hardly do anything at first, and now she works just as hard as me ... and chases off white boys with a shotgun."

  Henry chuckled. "Yep," he nodded, "I sure wish I cud er seen dat! Soun's like you's right proud er her."

  "I reckon I am," I said. "Do you really think those men'll come, Henry?"

  "I do, Miz Mayme," he said. "Dey sounded mighty set on hit."

  "You want some help with the milking?" I asked.

  "I'm nearly done wiff hit."

  "I reckon I'll go inside, then, and help Katie with the breakfast."

  I turned to go, but then Henry spoke up again.

  "You min' effen I ax you a question, Miz Mayme?" he said.

  "No ... of course not."

  "What it be like sleepin' dere in da big house?"

  I hesitated for a second, wondering if he was hinting that it was wrong of me. But from the look on his face, I realized that he was just curious. Even though he'd been free before the war, the idea of such a thing as I was doing had never occurred to him.

  "Just like anywhere else, I reckon," I said, "once you get used to it."

  "Wuz it yer idea, at first, I mean-after you foun' Miz Kathleen?"

  "Oh no. I was going to sleep in here, like you're doing. I was terrified at the thought of anyone knowing I'd slept in a white man's bed"

  Henry laughed at the thought.

  "But Katie wanted me to stay with her. She was so helpless at first I didn't think I ought to leave her alone."

  "Don' it make you feel a mite all overish?" Henry asked.

  "It did for a while," I said. "At first I slept on the floor, but then she made me sleep in one of the beds, and I could hardly sleep for fear of what would happen if somebody found me. I knew I'd get the tar whipped outta me. But I reckon I got used to it. Katie's been awful good to me"

  "Soun's ter me dat you's helped her some considerable yo'self. Seems ter me she was a bit on da helpless side a year back."

  "I reckon you're right," I said. "She was in a bad way when I came. She could hardly do anything for herself. But look at her now. And like I said, even Emma's learning how to do things too."

  "I reckon takin' care ob yersel' makes a body learn what he's got ter do all right."

  It got quiet a minute.

  "You bury 'em?" Henry asked. "Miz Kathleen's kin?"

  "Yes, sir."

  Henry nodded.

  "Well ..:peers ter me you done right well by both ob 'em. Miz Kathleen's lookin' better'n I eber seen her. She's done growed up a mite. I reckon dat's why I started noticin' da two er you in town, seein' somefin different in Miz Kathleen's face dat I cudn't esplain ter mysel'. An' now I'm seein' dat same growin'-up look in Miz Emma. Yep ... you gots lots ter be proud ob, Miz Mayme. You done real good by dem"

  "Thank you, Henry," I said. "Well ... I reckon I'll go get started on that breakfast. You'll probably be hungry."

  Later that morning Katie and I talked about what we should do if the men came like Henry thought they would. I said I thought we should do our same plan with fires burning and laundry hanging out.

  "I've been thinking, Mayme," said Katie, "that I could dress up and pretend to be my mama."

  "What!" I laughed. But then I saw that Katie was downright serious. "Do you really think you could?" I asked.

  "I fooled those boys that were beating up Jeremiah."

  "But it was dark ... and you had a gun!"

  "I'll just wear old clothes and a scarf or hat or something, and you could smear some dust or dirt on my face, like I'd been cleaning or something, so that it would be harder to tell how young I was."

  "That's some kind of crazy notion," I laughed. "But if anyone can do it, it's Kathleen Clairborne!"

  "Should we tell Henry?" said Katie.

  "I don't know," I said.

  "What do you think he'd say?"

  "Something tells me he might not like it," I said. "I don't think he'd be too fond of us not telling the truth."

  "Then we won't tell him," said Katie. "I'll just go upstairs and get dressed, and if he asks you tell him I'm in my room. After a while you come up and help me try to look right."

  "What will we do when the men come?"

  "You and Aleta go about your business outside. We'll keep Emma and William in one of the bedrooms. And I'll watch for them from upstairs."

  "What about Henry?"

  "We'll just hope they think he's a hired black man. All we need is for them to see him so they know there's men around.

  "Not men, Miss Katie-just one man."

  "One man's better than we've had up till now."

  T WAS RIGHT AFTER LUNCH WHEN THE MEN CAME.

  Henry was cleaning up inside the barn at the time. I reckon he figured there wasn't anything else for him to be doing, so he might as well help us out how he could. Already the barn was looking tidier than I'd ever seen it.

  We heard them coming, so we quickly jumped to our plan. Katie sent Aleta out the door where she could sneak down to the cabins and light the fires we'd laid. I adjusted Katie's hair and scarf and tried to muss up her face one last time, then she went upstairs to wait. Then I headed out into the yard to hang out the laundry. I was just starting when they rode around the barn and up to the house. I hoped they wouldn't notice that the clothes I was hanging up were already dry!

  I tried not to pay them much attention as they rode past me. After they were around to the front of the house, I ran into the barn.

  "Henry ... Henry," I whispered, "they're here." But I could tell he'd heard them too.

  "Where's Miz Kathleen?" he said, hurrying over to me.

  "She's in the house. She'll talk to them. But maybe you should just walk around outside so they see you and know there's a man around."

  "What 'bout Miz Kathleen?"

  "She'll be all right," I said.

  We went out of the barn together and saw Aleta already heade
d back from the cabins. I thought to myself, Don't hurry, Aleta ... just keep looking like it's nothing unusual!

  I could hear them banging on the front door, then pretty soon a couple of them rode around to the back door by the kitchen since nobody'd answered in front.

  It didn't look too good-three rough white men, a colored girl hiding with her baby inside, scared out of her wits, a white girl inside the house dressed up like her mama, a little white girl coming through the fields, and Henry standing there with me watching it all and starting to get a confused look on his face, since he didn't know anything about how we'd been dealing with people who came visiting.

  By now the men were banging at the back door, and one of them was calling out. They hadn't paid any attention to Henry or me. Most of the time it seemed like white folks didn't even notice us coloreds.

  Finally Katie stuck her head out the upstairs window.

  "Hello," she said down toward the men. "What can I do for you gentlemen?"

  The men looked up at her. And Henry looked up at her too, and his eyes were about as big as Katie's all of a sudden when he saw her looking so different and trying to make her voice low so she would sound like a grown-up. But there was one person who wasn't looking up at Katie, and that was me! I couldn't have looked right then, but I was sure listening!

  "You be Mrs. Clairborne, ma'am?" said one of them. His voice sounded a little uncertain, like he wasn't quite sure what to make of the face that had appeared in the upstairs window of the house.

  "Yes, sir, that's right."

  "Your husband back from the war, ma'am?" he asked.

  "Yes, he is," answered Katie. "He got back two months ago.

  "Could I talk to him, then?"

  "I am sorry, but he is out in the woods with the men and one of the wagons getting some timbers."

  Katie paused and looked at me.

  "Mayme, pump some fresh water for their horses."