two dozen families sharecropped on the land.
Jessie spotted Glory, eating a sandwich, sitting on a blanket with a woman and two boys. The girl was barefoot, her legs caked with dust. The plaid dress she wore was ripped at the shoulder.
“Miss Jessie, what you doin here?” Glory asked, amazed, scrambling up from the blanket.
“I came to see why you stopped coming to the Freedom School.”
“She got work to do here; we need all the hands we kin git,” the woman spoke up, pushing Glory back onto the ground.
“She was doing real good in her classes,” Jessie said, looking directly into the woman’s eyes.
“Ah’m her mama,” the woman said, moving forward, crossing her arms at her chest, standing firm between Jessie and her children. “She got to help put food in our mouths. Ah knew ah shouldn’t of let her come to them classes in the first place,” the woman worried, her dark face bunched up in fear. Sweat rimmed the edges of the blue bandanna covering her head and her life was etched in craggy stubborn lines across her face. Two teeth were missing in the front of her mouth and the remaining teeth were dark and stained and appeared capable of falling from her gums under the slightest pressure. Looking at her, Jessie didn’t know if Glory’s mother was thirty-five or fifty.
“Did something happen? Did anybody threaten you?” Macon asked.
“The boss man here come around to all us folks and say anybody what goes to try’n to vote or to that Freedom School is gonna git throwed off the land.”
“He can’t do that. Not legally,” Macon said. “If he does, we could sue on your behalf. Sue the state through the Justice Department.”
“What that mean, sue? Sue gonna feed my chilrens? Give em a place to live? Yall folks is trouble. Us gotta live here when yall gone.”
Glory’s mother strode off to the fields, ordering the two boys and Glory to follow her. Glory gazed sadly at Jessie, then picked up her sack and trudged after her mother.
“I thought you knew how to pick cotton,” Macon said.
“I do.”
“Well, why don’t you go on and let them know that.”
“But what good’s that gonna do?” Jessie asked, afraid to approach the woman again alone.
“Go on, Jessie,” Macon said, “I’ll wait over here.”
Jessie took an empty sack from one of the boys in the field and began picking next to Glory’s mother.
“You look like you know what you doin’,” the woman grudgingly admitted, having failed in her attempts to ignore Jessie.
“I do.”
“You from roun here?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Well, then, you knows what ah mean. These folks ain’t playin, they killin people over this silver rights business.”
“I ain’t been alive long, ma’am, but I seen enough to know they ain’t gonna give us nothing without us pushing real hard to get it.”
“She start sassing me since she been at that school,” Mrs. Pickering said, fondling a palm full of cotton bolls as she spoke. “Askin a whole lot a questions bout things I cain’t answer. Askin like she got a mind of her own. Come home and make me feel shamed. And even though ah made her stop comin to that school she ain’t changed back to like she used to be. Ah’d always told her not to look no white people straight in the eye. And she’d listened too. Then she come home wanting to know why she couldn’t look at em just like she look at me.”
“I’m not asking you to do nothing that other folks haven’t done, Mrs. Pickering, nothing I haven’t done. Please let Glory come back.”
“Ah respects what yall doin, but ah’m the boss of this family, and ah just cain’t take no risk like that.”
Macon watched Jessie from several rows over. She could tell she wasn’t winning the woman over, yet Macon watched in amazement as Jessie turned away from Glory’s mother and picked two more rows of cotton, filling her sack, before handing it to Mrs. Pickering and saying good-bye.
T HE BLACK PEOPLE who walked into the
Jessie spotted Glory, eating a sandwich, sitting on a blanket with a woman and two boys. The girl was barefoot, her legs caked with dust. The plaid dress she wore was ripped at the shoulder.
“Miss Jessie, what you doin here?” Glory asked, amazed, scrambling up from the blanket.
“I came to see why you stopped coming to the Freedom School.”
“She got work to do here; we need all the hands we kin git,” the woman spoke up, pushing Glory back onto the ground.
“She was doing real good in her classes,” Jessie said, looking directly into the woman’s eyes.
“Ah’m her mama,” the woman said, moving forward, crossing her arms at her chest, standing firm between Jessie and her children. “She got to help put food in our mouths. Ah knew ah shouldn’t of let her come to them classes in the first place,” the woman worried, her dark face bunched up in fear. Sweat rimmed the edges of the blue bandanna covering her head and her life was etched in craggy stubborn lines across her face. Two teeth were missing in the front of her mouth and the remaining teeth were dark and stained and appeared capable of falling from her gums under the slightest pressure. Looking at her, Jessie didn’t know if Glory’s mother was thirty-five or fifty.
“Did something happen? Did anybody threaten you?” Macon asked.
“The boss man here come around to all us folks and say anybody what goes to try’n to vote or to that Freedom School is gonna git throwed off the land.”
“He can’t do that. Not legally,” Macon said. “If he does, we could sue on your behalf. Sue the state through the Justice Department.”
“What that mean, sue? Sue gonna feed my chilrens? Give em a place to live? Yall folks is trouble. Us gotta live here when yall gone.”
Glory’s mother strode off to the fields, ordering the two boys and Glory to follow her. Glory gazed sadly at Jessie, then picked up her sack and trudged after her mother.
“I thought you knew how to pick cotton,” Macon said.
“I do.”
“Well, why don’t you go on and let them know that.”
“But what good’s that gonna do?” Jessie asked, afraid to approach the woman again alone.
“Go on, Jessie,” Macon said, “I’ll wait over here.”
Jessie took an empty sack from one of the boys in the field and began picking next to Glory’s mother.
“You look like you know what you doin’,” the woman grudgingly admitted, having failed in her attempts to ignore Jessie.
“I do.”
“You from roun here?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Well, then, you knows what ah mean. These folks ain’t playin, they killin people over this silver rights business.”
“I ain’t been alive long, ma’am, but I seen enough to know they ain’t gonna give us nothing without us pushing real hard to get it.”
“She start sassing me since she been at that school,” Mrs. Pickering said, fondling a palm full of cotton bolls as she spoke. “Askin a whole lot a questions bout things I cain’t answer. Askin like she got a mind of her own. Come home and make me feel shamed. And even though ah made her stop comin to that school she ain’t changed back to like she used to be. Ah’d always told her not to look no white people straight in the eye. And she’d listened too. Then she come home wanting to know why she couldn’t look at em just like she look at me.”
“I’m not asking you to do nothing that other folks haven’t done, Mrs. Pickering, nothing I haven’t done. Please let Glory come back.”
“Ah respects what yall doin, but ah’m the boss of this family, and ah just cain’t take no risk like that.”
Macon watched Jessie from several rows over. She could tell she wasn’t winning the woman over, yet Macon watched in amazement as Jessie turned away from Glory’s mother and picked two more rows of cotton, filling her sack, before handing it to Mrs. Pickering and saying good-bye.
T HE BLACK PEOPLE who walked into the
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