Together is All We Need Read online

  Katie had begun busying herself with supper preparations, and so she kept working in the kitchen.

  As the man rode up, I was walking back from the slave cabins trying to look like a ‘‘hired darkie’’—which some folks called us coloreds who had been set free after the war between the North and the South. That wasn’t the worse thing they called us either.

  We were a little family, the five of us living at the plantation called Rosewood. We were two white girls—Katie and Aleta—and three of us who were black—Emma and William and me. Actually, William and I were half black and half white, though that still makes a person colored in most folks’ eyes. There were only three others who knew that the five of us had been living there for nearly two years, running the plantation ourselves without any grown-ups—Henry and Jeremiah in town, and Katie’s uncle Templeton—my papa—who I told you about. Jeremiah and Henry had been a big help to us, both before Mr. Daniels came and afterwards too. They hadn’t told anyone about our secret scheme to keep the plantation going as if Katie’s family was still there. And Henry and my papa were gradually becoming good friends, which made us all happy.

  After Katie’s and my family were all killed by Bilsby’s Marauders right after the war, Katie and I found ourselves together at Rosewood doing our best to survive. We became good friends long before we had any idea we were related. Turns out my mama used to live at Rosewood and Katie’s uncle fell in love with her during his visits there. But Katie’s father had sold my mama to another plantation without telling Templeton where she’d gone—or that she was expecting his child. Anyway, once we knew that we were cousins—though it plumb caps the climax of anything we’d ever expected!—it’s made us closer than ever. It’s made us all the more a family at Rosewood, and made my papa’s leaving again all the harder.

  As the man rode up, he glanced over at me from up on his horse with a look of disdain, like I was a dog or something. He continued straight on toward the house, dismounted, threw his reins over the rail as he paused to glance around at the house and barn and grounds, then slowly climbed the steps to the porch and knocked on the door.

  As I usually did when Katie had to talk to someone, I tried to stay as close as I could without arousing too much suspicion, so that I could hear what was going on. Katie often said, ‘‘Stay close to me, Mayme—I might need you.’’ She always talked like I was the brains of the partnership, but she was the mistress of Rosewood now, even though she was only sixteen, and all the rest of us knew it.

  Katie came to the door, opened it, and looked out to see a man standing there she recognized. Even from where I stood I saw her eyes widen and her face go white.

  ‘‘I see you recognize me,’’ he said gruffly.

  ‘‘Uh . . . yes, sir . . . hello, Uncle Burchard.’’

  ‘‘You’re Kathleen, I take it.’’

  ‘‘Yes, sir.’’

  ‘‘You’ve grown some since I saw you.’’

  ‘‘Yes, sir.’’

  ‘‘I came to see your daddy.’’

  ‘‘He’s not back from the war yet.’’

  ‘‘Not back—the war’s been over almost two years.’’

  ‘‘Yes, sir.’’

  ‘‘I heard that your father came back and then left again to work in the North.’’

  ‘‘Oh . . . yes—uh, that’s what I meant . . . that he wasn’t back to stay. He just came for a few days before he left again.’’

  ‘‘What about your brothers?’’

  ‘‘They’re not back yet either.’’

  ‘‘Where in blazes are they?’’

  ‘‘We don’t know, sir.’’

  ‘‘All right, then,’’ he said in a frustrated tone, though it seemed like what he had expected to hear all along, ‘‘go fetch your ma. I need to talk to her.’’

  ‘‘She’s not here either, Uncle Burchard.’’

  ‘‘What!’’

  ‘‘She’s visiting a sick neighbor, sir.’’

  ‘‘I see,’’ the man said, then paused and looked about, rubbing his chin for a moment. ‘‘Well, tell her I called and that I’ll be back.’’

  ‘‘Do you, uh . . . want to come in, Uncle Burchard?’’ said Katie. ‘‘Would you like something to eat or drink?’’

  ‘‘No, don’t bother. Just tell your ma I’ll be back to see her.’’

  ‘‘Yes, sir. When, Uncle Burchard?’’

  ‘‘I don’t know, maybe tomorrow.’’ He turned to leave.

  ‘‘Are you going home now?’’ asked Katie.

  ‘‘No, of course not—it’s too far.’’

  ‘‘Do you want . . . uh, to stay here, Uncle Burchard?’’

  He paused, seemingly surprised at Katie’s offer of hospitality. Not half so surprised as I was! What if he said yes!

  ‘‘No, that’s all right,’’ he said after a few seconds. ‘‘Thanks anyway, but I’ll make my own arrangements.’’

  He continued on down the steps to his horse, threw me another unfriendly look, and a minute later was riding away out of sight.

  A TALK WITH HENRY

  4

  THE INSTANT HE WAS OUT OF SIGHT, KATIE CAME running toward me.

  ‘‘Mayme . . . that was my uncle Burchard from Charlotte! He’s the one I’ve been telling you about all this time!’’

  ‘‘I overheard a little,’’ I said.

  ‘‘What are we going to do? Did you hear him . . . he’s coming back. He’s not like the others. He’s going to expect to see my mother.’’

  ‘‘What do you think he wants?’’

  ‘‘I don’t know,’’ said Katie.

  ‘‘I reckon we’ll have to think about this a spell.’’

  ‘‘I wish Uncle Templeton was here!’’

  We did think about it the rest of the day, without much success in coming up with any ideas. About the only thing we thought to do was try to hide Katie’s family’s graves as best we could. Katie’s uncle hadn’t noticed them, but he would eventually. The result was that when he arrived at Rosewood again about midmorning on the next day, there were a bunch of straw bales piled around the stones. Katie had been nervous the whole time and didn’t know what else to do but what she always did—say that her mother was gone again.

  She did. But it was clear enough her uncle didn’t like it.

  ‘‘Didn’t you tell her I was coming?’’

  ‘‘Yes, sir. But you didn’t say when, Uncle Burchard.’’

  ‘‘Well, then, this time you can tell her I will be back this afternoon.’’

  ‘‘I’m sorry, sir,’’ said Katie, ‘‘but she won’t be back.’’

  An exasperated curse came from her uncle’s lips.

  ‘‘Why in blazes not!’’ he half shouted.

  ‘‘She needs to stay until Mrs. Thurston is better.’’

  ‘‘Who made her nursemaid over the whole county! I’d think she’d have better things to do with Richard gone. And I suppose you have nothing more to tell me about your father’s whereabouts?’’

  ‘‘No, sir.’’

  He drew in a breath, irritated but not knowing what to do, and glanced around.

  ‘‘The place looks run-down,’’ he said. ‘‘Who’s doing all the work, who’s planting the crops and bringing them in? Who’s tending the livestock?’’

  ‘‘We all do, Uncle Burchard. And we get people to help with the crops when we need them.’’

  ‘‘Hired darkies, you mean?’’

  ‘‘Yes, sir.’’ Something told Katie he wouldn’t be pleased to hear that the ne’er-do-well brother of his sister-in-law had been around slowly taking charge of the place.

  ‘‘All right, then,’’ he said with another sigh. ‘‘I’ll give your mother two days to get your sick friend back on her feet. You tell her I’ll be back morning after next, and I want to talk to her. I don’t care if your neighbor is dying—you tell her to be here! You got that, Kathleen?’’

  ‘‘Yes, sir,’’ said Katie. Her uncle turned again and left.
Katie was still standing on the porch.

  We went into the kitchen and sat down. I pumped Katie a glass of water and she drank it down in three swallows. It seemed to bring her back to herself.

  ‘‘I would like you to ride into town, Mayme,’’ she said at length. ‘‘Take an extra horse and ask Henry if he could come out. We need to talk to him. I don’t know what to do. I’d almost forgotten what it was like before Uncle Templeton came.’’

  Henry came out that same evening on the horse Katie had sent for him. I’d only told him briefly about the situation earlier, but he’d been involved with us long enough to know Katie’s fear that her uncle might try to take Rosewood from her. So as Katie told Henry about her uncle’s visit, he just sat and nodded as he took everything in.

  ‘‘I lied to him, Henry,’’ said Katie finally, slowly getting tearful. ‘‘We’ve been trying so hard all this time to do the right thing, but look what it’s led to. I thought with Uncle Templeton here, the lying was all over. But suddenly there I was not telling the truth again. Yet at the same time, I’m afraid to tell him the truth.’’

  Henry sat thinking a minute or two.

  ‘‘Ah reckon dat’s a trial ter bear, all right,’’ he said. ‘‘Tryin’ ter do da right thing’s mighty hard sumtimes. Ain’t easy ter walk an upright life. Lot easier not ter worry ’bout truf an’ right. But w’en a body wants ter live by truf, sum er life’s questions git a mite mo complercated. Yer facin’ one er dose now.’’

  ‘‘What am I going to do, Henry?’’ asked Katie in almost a pleading tone.

  Again Henry was thoughtful.

  ‘‘You got ter listen ter yo heart—what does yo heart tell you is da right thing? Wha’chu think God wants yer ter do?’’

  ‘‘I don’t know!’’

  ‘‘But you think lyin’ ter yer uncle’s wrong. Ain’t dat what I’m doin’ here? Ain’t dat why you ax’ed fo’ Henry’s advice?’’

  ‘‘I don’t know. . . yes, it must be wrong, mustn’t it?’’

  ‘‘Ah reckon mos’ ob da time lyin’s wrong, all right. Ah always figger what makes a lie a lie is tryin’ ter deceive sum one fer a selfish reason. Ah reckon effen a man was tryin’ ter hurt Jeremiah, I’d lie all day long ter keep him from findin’ him. But I don’t figger dat’d be selfish ob me—I’d be tryin’ ter protect my son, an effen dat was wrong, well, ah reckon I’d have ter talk ter God ’bout it later. So you gotter ax—is you bein’ selfish, Miz Kathleen?’’

  ‘‘I don’t know. I suppose a little. I’m just trying to think what’s best for everyone. But I’m trying to find what’s best for me too.’’

  ‘‘But ain’t nobody’s life in danger.’’

  ‘‘Except Emma’s.’’

  ‘‘Yep, dere is dat, all right. You’s right dere.’’

  ‘‘Were you thinking about those things when you shot that man Bilsby?’’ Katie asked, thinking back on Henry’s loathing of guns, yet of how he shot a man to protect Katie and me— as it turns out, the very man who killed our families.

  A faraway look came into Henry’s eye.

  ‘‘No, Miz Kathleen,’’ he said at length, ‘‘ah can’t rightly say I wuz. Sumtimes things happen so fas’ you gots ter trust yer instincts ’bout right an’ wrong. Dat’s why you gots ter practice so hard doin’ right da res’ ob da time, so dat w’en da time er crisis comes, ye’ll do it wiffout thinkin’ ’bout hit. I’ll go t’ my grave wonderin’ ef I did da right thing. But at dat moment w’en I wuz lookin’ out dat winder wiff dat gun in my han’s, ah wuzn’t ’bout ter see Miz Mayme, an’ maybe you too, killed in front ob my own eyes when I cud stop it.’’

  Henry paused and sighed at the memory.

  ‘‘Yep, Miz Kathleen,’’ he said, ‘‘right an’ wrong’s a mighty difficult thing ter see wiff clear eyes sumtimes, an’ dat’s da truf.’’

  ‘‘Then you think I should tell my uncle . . . tell him everything?’’

  ‘‘Only you can say dat fo’ sho’, Miz Kathleen. A body’s gotter listen t’ God fer hisse’f. Dat’s why I can’t tell you what you oughter do, ’cuz I ain’t wearin’ yo shoes.’’

  Again it was silent a long time and finally Henry rose to go.

  I don’t know what Katie was thinking about what to do. We didn’t talk about it again that evening or the next day. But she was unusually quiet and thoughtful the whole time.

  LEROY SNEED, ATTORNEY

  AT LAW

  5

  WHEN HER UNCLE CAME TWO MORNINGS LATER, she went to meet him again at the door. I still wasn’t sure what she was going to do. I couldn’t help wondering if this was the day we’d get found out and everything would change. When Katie had told her uncle Templeton, that is, my father—it still sounds mighty strange hearing that word out of my own lips and writing it down and looking at it with my own eyes—he was kind as he could be to Katie and me and the others. He is different for a white man, which makes me proud that he is my father.

  But this uncle Burchard of hers—one look at him was enough to tell that he wouldn’t be so considerate, especially to me and Emma. The way he looked at me reminded me of Master McSimmons, and I knew that once Katie told him, it would be the end of everything for us, and yet I didn’t know if Papa could do anything to help. I know Katie was wrestling with her conscience, and that’s a mighty powerful thing sometimes when truth is silently shouting at you from inside. Sometimes you gotta obey what it says no matter what the consequences.

  Katie opened the door and stood staring at her uncle. I think she was planning to tell him but couldn’t bring herself to it, or else just didn’t know what to say. One look at her face, and Katie’s uncle seemed to realize he was not going to see Mrs. Clairborne that day.

  ‘‘Your ma’s not here, is she?’’ he said brusquely.

  ‘‘No, sir,’’ replied Katie softly, looking down at the floor.

  He shook his head in exasperation.

  ‘‘All right, then, if that’s the way you want it, I’ll deal with this legally. I have tried to be civil and give you every chance to explain yourself, but if you won’t, then you leave me no choice.’’

  I didn’t know what he meant. He turned around and went back to his horse and rode away without another word, leaving Katie standing there, having planned to tell him but now watching him disappear without her saying a word. Whether she felt relieved or more guilty yet, I don’t know.

  We would find out soon enough exactly what Katie’s uncle had meant by his parting words. This time he didn’t even return to the boardinghouse in Greens Crossing where he was staying but rode straight to Oakwood to see the lawyer Mr. Taylor had told him about. Within the hour he was sitting across the desk talking to the attorney Leroy Sneed.

  Of course, we didn’t have any way of knowing about their meeting at the time, or knowing what they said to each other. We didn’t find out those details till quite a bit later. All we found out then was the effect their conversation would have on our lives.

  Anyway, their conversation went something like this.

  ‘‘I can’t prove nothing, Mr. Sneed,’’ said Katie’s uncle Burchard after explaining the situation. ‘‘But I’m convinced my brother is dead. Can’t nothing else account for it. He ain’t the kind of fellow that’d just leave wife and kid and house without a word. They know the plantation ought to have been mine all along. They’re trying to keep me from finding out. So what can I do?’’

  Sneed had, of course, long harbored his own suspicions and annoyances about what we were up to. But he kept them to himself for the present.

  ‘‘Without proof of your brother’s death, of course,’’ Sneed began, ‘‘and absent a will, the legalities are somewhat murky. I suppose you could file a claim for temporary guardianship as an intermediate measure, pending resolution of your brother’s, shall we say, condition.’’

  ‘‘Guardianship . . . you mean over that wool-brained kid of his? I couldn’t care less about her and ain’t too fond of the idea of being her guardian
. Besides, there’s my brother’s wife.’’

  ‘‘I mean guardianship over the estate, the land—giving you temporary power over decisions made, effectively giving you the power of an owner without actual ownership.’’

  Katie’s uncle nodded. He liked the sound of what he had just heard.

  ‘‘And what would happen after that?’’ he asked.

  ‘‘It would depend.’’

  ‘‘On what?’’

  ‘‘On whether your brother turned out to be dead or alive. If he is dead, as you suspect, then of course you could file a claim for full ownership, although it would be sure to be contested by the man’s widow.’’

  Burchard Clairborne thought a minute. ‘‘All right, then,’’ he said, ‘‘file the papers. I’ll worry about the rest of it later.’’

  When Mr. Sneed arrived at Rosewood to deliver the papers two days later, Katie couldn’t believe she was seeing him again. Her heart sank at the thought! He rode up in an expensive buckboard, dressed in suit and tie almost as nice looking as my father used to look when he wore ruffled shirts. He walked to the door. I was hanging wash out on the line and strained to listen.

  ‘‘I have some papers here for Mrs. Clairborne,’’ he said when Katie answered the door. After several previous interviews with Katie, he didn’t even bother to ask if her mother was at home.

  ‘‘Give her these,’’ he said, handing Katie the short stack of official documents.

  ‘‘What is it, uh . . . Mr. Sneed?’’ she asked.

  ‘‘It is a filing by one Burchard Clairborne—would he be your uncle?’’

  ‘‘Yes, sir.’’

  ‘‘I see. Well, this is a filing for guardianship of the Rosewood estate in the absence of your father’s appearance to claim his legal rights of ownership.’’

  ‘‘Uh . . . what does that mean, sir?’’ asked Katie.