Page 23 of The Unforgiven
“Please don’t,” Amelia pleaded. “I don’t want her to send you away. And she can, you know. She can talk George into just about anything. Don’t worry about your Mammy. She’ll be fine.” Amelia gestured with her hands as if what she was saying should be obvious to anyone. “The slaves are used to that kind of work. Anyway, Cissy is young and knows about fashion. She’ll take better care of you than some old, useless darkie.”
Madeline gaped at Amelia. Mammy had loved Madeline since birth and cared for her every day of her life. She knew that some plantation owners saw their slaves as interchangeable and not possessed of human emotions, but Charles Besson had taught her to be respectful and kind to all people, no matter their background.
“I love Mammy,” Madeline replied, her voice steely. “She’s not a useless darkie, she’s a person, and I won’t have her mistreated.”
“It’s no longer your call to make,” Amelia replied. “I’m sorry, Madeline, I really am, but Mammy belongs to the estate, and the estate belongs to Sybil. As long as she is alive, she will have a say in what goes on here, and George won’t go against her, not on this. He defies her when he has no choice, but he loves her too much to upset her over something as trivial as an old slave woman.”
Madeline blinked away tears of frustration. She was now at the mercy of these people, at least until she came of age. She had nothing of her own, nothing to fall back on, not even a good education that she might use to earn a living. No one would hire someone like her. Most people had slaves, and others hired poor white folk to work for a pittance. White laborers worked in awful conditions and died daily, but no one cared. Daddy had said thatpoor white folk were less valuable than slaves since a young male slave cost several hundred dollars and his death would be a financial setback to his owner, whereas a white man could be hired for as little as a quarter a day and if he died, the employer lost nothing at all. Plantation owners hired gangs of white men to cut cypress trees in the swamps, refusing to risk losing their slaves to swamp fever. Madeline had never understood the meaning of Daddy’s words until today. Even old Mammy was worth more to an employer than Madeline. Mammy could pick cotton, work in the kitchens, or raise babies, but Madeline was suited to nothing and no one would pay her to do what someone else could do for less.
“Excuse me, Amelia. I need some air,” Madeline said.
“It’s hot as purgatory out there,” Amelia replied.
“Nevertheless.”
“Suit yourself. I’ll have some cool lemonade waiting for you when you return.”
“Thank you.”
Madeline forced herself to smile as she walked out of the dining room. She had to control her temper and be respectful to her hosts. Once outside, she ran around the side of the house and headed for the slave quarters. She would find Mammy regardless of what Amelia had said.
TWELVE
The slave quarters of Arabella Plantation were about half a mile from the main house—close enough to keep an eye on, but far enough to not be an eyesore to the family. About twenty cabins were clustered around an open space used for cooking, hanging out the washing, and doing various other chores that required elbow room. Given that the Bessons owned about two hundred slaves, about ten people slept in every one-room hut that boasted one small window and a narrow doorway.
Peering into the nearest hut, Madeline saw no furnishings except a couple of shelves on the walls and nails for hanging things. Rolled-up blankets lay neatly piled against one wall, waiting for their owners to spread them on the floor at bedtime. Madeline turned away, ashamed of her earlier bout of self-pity. She’d lost her father and her home, but she had no right to complain when other people lived in such barren conditions without hope of anything better. Mr. Larson had said the Bessons were good to their slaves. She’d hate to see what slave quarters on other plantations looked like, ones where the owners weren’t as “good.”
Madeline slowed her pace as she drew closer. Several women were hanging out the washing and cooking in large pots over open fires. Most of them had babies, either perched on their hips or in slings worn on their backs while they worked. Madeline noted with some surprise that the women looked too old to be the babies’ mothers. The mothers were likely in the fields picking cotton, while the elderly stayed behind to look after the children and see to domestic chores. About a dozen pickaninnies ran around the yard, some completely naked, chasing each other and hooting with laughter. Some of the younger ones who could barely walk toddled behind the others, trying to get in on the fun. The women kept a watchful eye on the children as they went about their tasks.
Madeline stopped. The slave women would not welcome her presence and she had no wish to intrude. She found a shady spot and settled in to wait. It was close to noon, so the laborerswould probably return soon for the midday meal, unless it was brought out to them in the fields. Madeline didn’t yet understand the workings of the plantation, but she would learn soon enough if she remained watchful. Not that it mattered. Life on the plantation had a rhythm of its own, and she would have to adjust if she hoped to fit in and find some measure of contentment.
Her father had been gone for just six days, but already her life had taken on a surreal quality, flowing over her like a swift current that carried her along no matter how much she resisted. She had no say in anything that happened to her, not anymore. Her only choice was to be humble, grateful, and obedient.
Caught up in her somber thoughts, Madeline barely noticed the column of laborers making their way back toward the living quarters. They looked tired and dusty, but most of them appeared to be in good spirits, talking and joking amongst themselves and calling out to the women and children. Some of the children ran toward their fathers, who scooped them up and put them on their shoulders, the children’s bare legs making a thick scarf around the men’s necks. A few young women broke away from the crowd and reached for the babies, putting them to their breasts before they even had a chance to sit down or have a cup of water.
Madeline stepped forward and shielded her eyes with her hand, searching for Mammy. She spotted her eventually, way in the back, walking slowly, as if in pain. Madeline took off at a run and threw herself into Mammy’s arms, blubbering like a baby. She had a speech prepared, but words deserted her, leaving her mind blank as she clung to the one person she still had left in the world.
“Come now, child,” Mammy said, her voice as soothing as warm molasses. “Don’t tear yourself up. It’ll all be all right.”
“Nothing will ever be all right, Mammy. How could they send you to the fields?” Madeline sobbed.
“Don’t you worry about me. I’ve been in them fields before. It ain’t so bad once you get used to it. Now, tell me how you been.”
“Mrs. Besson hates me, but I don’t know why. She keeps referring to something Daddy did that was unforgivable. She told George to send me away, but he refused.”
Mammy nodded, as if Madeline had just confirmed her suspicions. “Now, you listen to your old Mammy. Your daddy was a good man, and he loved you something fierce. Loved your momma too. That woman in that there house is your grandmother, no matter if she likes it or not. So you go back in there and you act like the granddaughter of the house. You hear? You make a place for yourself, and you hold on to it. You’s got rights, baby girl. Don’t forsake them.”
Madeline stared at Mammy. Her plump face glistened with sweat and she looked worn-out, but her eyes shone with determination and defiance. She wasn’t broken, nor was she bitter. She’d accepted her fate and was urging Madeline to do the same.
“I will help you, Mammy. I promise. It might take me some time, but I’ll see that you’re treated right.”
“You’ll do nothing of the sort, child. You just look after yourself. There’s good folk here, and I’m not treated unkindly. There’s them that’s much worse off than me, believe me. Why, you see all them little ones running around? That’s all you need to know.”
“Know what?” Madeline asked, confused. The children were sweet, but she hadn’t given them another thought.
“There’s some as have breeding farms and put the babies up for sale to make a profit. Tear them away from their mommas as soon as they’s born. Here, families are kept together. No one takes the babies away, and no one suffers needless cruelty.”
Madeline looked around. Workers sat around, enjoying their meal. The women served collard greens with large chunks of cornbread liberally smeared with fat and some kind of side meat. Some ate in silence, but most chatted and exchanged news and gossip with their friends. Madeline had never given much thought to the conditions the slaves lived and worked in before today. Sheonly knew Mammy and Tess, and they had been part of the family. She looked at a young woman who rested her head on the shoulder of the man seated next to her, his arm going about her protectively. He held a small child in his lap and tickled it with his free hand to make it giggle. The very idea that someone could simply take that baby away and sell it made Madeline’s stomach churn with outrage.
