Free A Day to Pick Your Own Cotton by Michael Phillips Page A

there on the corner of the boardwalk next to the Oakwood bank. I don’t know why I noticed, ’cause there were people about and horses and a few buggies clomping and rattling along the street. But in the midst of all the noise and movement and activity, I heard the sound of a man’s voice calling out to a team of horses from the middle of the street coming behind me from the direction of the general store.
    I knew instantly that it was a black man’s voice, ’cause there’s a difference and you can always tell. And instinctively I turned around to look.
    There was a wagon loaded with hay and some other supplies being pulled by two horses rumbling along the street toward where I was standing. And sitting up on the buckboard lashing the reins and calling out to the horses was Katie’s friend Henry from Greens Crossing!
    I don’t know why I didn’t want him to see me. Seeing a familiar face suddenly filled me with the feeling that I shouldn’t be there.
    I started to turn away and duck behind the corner wall of the bank building.
    But it was too late. He had seen me too.
    Our eyes met briefly as he came even with me in the street. I had the feeling he might be about to rein in or say something.
    But before he had the chance, I looked away and started walking. I hurried along the boardwalk past the door of the bank and on toward the general store.
    I got to where I’d tied the horse. I stopped and looked back. Henry was gone. I could see the roof of the hotel beyond the bank.
    I thought again about the job and realized I still hadn’t made my decision.
    Money … a room of my own … a bank account with my name on it … and maybe even ten dollars in it someday …
    But what did any of that matter?
    I had a friend waiting for me. And a friend was worth even more than a hundred dollars!
    What had I been thinking? My home was with Katie now! She didn’t care if I was black or white or ugly or smelly. She needed me and looked up to me. So maybe that’s what I was worth—I was somebody’s friend.
    I smiled, gave the street one last look, then untied the horse, got up into the saddle, and rode out of town without wasting any more time.
    I still didn’t want Henry to see me again, and I didn’t slow down until the houses and buildings had completely disappeared behind me.

S URPRISE AT R OSEWOOD
14

    I RODE FOR A WHILE BUT SUDDENLY REALIZED I was really tired. I suppose emotions tire you out as much as hard work or anything else, and I’d sure been through a lot of them today. First being nervous about sneaking back to the McSimmons plantation, then seeing Josepha and what she’d told me, then encountering the master, and then everything that had happened in Oakwood.
    All at once I was plumb wore out. And hungry and thirsty too. I thought I could do with a rest.
    I didn’t want to wait till I came to the river, which was about halfway back. I had seen a stream following the road on and off, so I started looking for it and it wasn’t long till I came to it again. I led the horse off the road and down toward it where there was a little clump of trees and some grass for the horse to eat.
    I found a nice spot. Both the horse and I had a long drink from the stream. Then while he was munching away at the grass, I got out Josepha’s little cloth with the bread and cheese in it. I sat down and had as pleasant a meal as anyone could imagine.
    When I was through I glanced about. It was pretty late in the afternoon by now. Katie was probably fixing her supper by now and the sun was on its way down. I figured I had another good two or three hours of daylight left, plenty of time if I cantered part of the way and didn’t waste any time.
    But stopping and sitting down and eating had made me so sleepy I couldn’t imagine getting back up on that horse’s back again. Maybe I’d just take a short little nap to get my energy back before going the rest of the way.
    I lay down in the soft grass, feeling about as happy and content