can or can’t say. ‘Well, I expect it were different to yourself …’
A faint blush comes to his cheeks then disappears. Did I just embarrass him? Maybe I did. He says, ‘I understand. Well, the thing is, you look twelve. That’s what matters the most, and I’d say you look about that age.’
‘Yes, sir.’
I don’t know why I called him sir. I look away, taking a sudden interest in the landscape, which is greener now we’ve left the town. We’re passing fields that are dotted white with cotton buds and sometimes there are lines of people, women and men, with sacks strung from their shoulders, their backs bent double and their heads close to the bushes. They must be slaves. I know they are – though there ain’t no chains or manacles. I rub an idle finger around the top of my foot. I could jump over the side of this wagon if I wanted and I reckon they’d be hard pushed to catch me cos I was always the fastest runner at the orphanage.
Better not. Better to stay put a while and think things out.
Up front of the wagon, Mrs Allen raises her voice and it catches my attention. ‘Why did you allow the men to leave early yesterday?’ she demands. ‘I saw Connie and Isaac outside their cabin at seven thirty, and I couldn’t find Levi forlove nor money. He wasn’t in the barn with the gin and he wasn’t anywhere near the house.’
Hubbard answers her with a calm and steady voice. ‘I sent Levi into town, miss.’
‘Well, you should have asked me before he went. I want Levi out in the fields. I want him working all the hours God gives us. We picked less yesterday than we have for the previous three days and yet I told you to keep everyone out in the fields till sunset. How is it possible they pick less cotton when they have more time? Can you tell me the logic of that?’
‘I said they wouldn’t like the change, miss. I warned you. They’re not used to working a gang. They’re used to tasks. That’s how Mr Allen always ordered it. If I give ’em tasks, they do the work double quick so they can have some time of their own, but if I take that away from ’em, then they ain’t got no reason to work fast. Now we changed, they don’t have no incentive.’
Mrs Allen curls her little hands into fists. ‘But they don’t need no incentive! Good God, man, there’s a war on! Ain’t that incentive enough?’
‘Yes, ma’am. You’d think it would be, but—’
‘I don’t want to hear no ifs and buts, Hubbard. When people are taking liberties it’s your job to stop it.’
‘Yes, ma’am. I understand that. But if you want my advice, ma’am …’
Mrs Allen shakes her head quickly and the sunlight makes it golden, just the same is it does for Gerald. ‘Now you listen to me, Hubbard. You can advise me all you like, and I’m glad that you do, but the fact remains that the yield should be greater. It’s simple mathematics, Hubbard. That’s all it is. If you can’t see it, then I will find a man who can andI’ll answer to Mr Allen for my decision. Do you understand me?’
‘Yes, ma’am. I understand you perfectly.’
‘I want every person picking two hundred pounds of cotton tomorrow. I want it put through the gin and bundled.’
‘Yes, ma’am.’
She rests her hands back in her lap. ‘I hold you responsible to do your own job, Hubbard, so please don’t let me have to speak to you of this again.’
Hubbard don’t shift his eyes from the road and he don’t raise his voice. ‘I hear you, Mrs Allen,’ he says calmly. ‘Two hundred pounds, miss. I heard that, right enough.’
I turn back to see Gerald staring at me all over again. It makes me uncomfortable and I don’t know where to look cos it feels like he’s staring right through to my soul and it ain’t right. He takes a baseball from the pocket of his grey tunic and holds it up for me to see. ‘You look like a handy pitcher to me. You got good long arms. I bet you could pitch as fast as the best of ’em if you
A faint blush comes to his cheeks then disappears. Did I just embarrass him? Maybe I did. He says, ‘I understand. Well, the thing is, you look twelve. That’s what matters the most, and I’d say you look about that age.’
‘Yes, sir.’
I don’t know why I called him sir. I look away, taking a sudden interest in the landscape, which is greener now we’ve left the town. We’re passing fields that are dotted white with cotton buds and sometimes there are lines of people, women and men, with sacks strung from their shoulders, their backs bent double and their heads close to the bushes. They must be slaves. I know they are – though there ain’t no chains or manacles. I rub an idle finger around the top of my foot. I could jump over the side of this wagon if I wanted and I reckon they’d be hard pushed to catch me cos I was always the fastest runner at the orphanage.
Better not. Better to stay put a while and think things out.
Up front of the wagon, Mrs Allen raises her voice and it catches my attention. ‘Why did you allow the men to leave early yesterday?’ she demands. ‘I saw Connie and Isaac outside their cabin at seven thirty, and I couldn’t find Levi forlove nor money. He wasn’t in the barn with the gin and he wasn’t anywhere near the house.’
Hubbard answers her with a calm and steady voice. ‘I sent Levi into town, miss.’
‘Well, you should have asked me before he went. I want Levi out in the fields. I want him working all the hours God gives us. We picked less yesterday than we have for the previous three days and yet I told you to keep everyone out in the fields till sunset. How is it possible they pick less cotton when they have more time? Can you tell me the logic of that?’
‘I said they wouldn’t like the change, miss. I warned you. They’re not used to working a gang. They’re used to tasks. That’s how Mr Allen always ordered it. If I give ’em tasks, they do the work double quick so they can have some time of their own, but if I take that away from ’em, then they ain’t got no reason to work fast. Now we changed, they don’t have no incentive.’
Mrs Allen curls her little hands into fists. ‘But they don’t need no incentive! Good God, man, there’s a war on! Ain’t that incentive enough?’
‘Yes, ma’am. You’d think it would be, but—’
‘I don’t want to hear no ifs and buts, Hubbard. When people are taking liberties it’s your job to stop it.’
‘Yes, ma’am. I understand that. But if you want my advice, ma’am …’
Mrs Allen shakes her head quickly and the sunlight makes it golden, just the same is it does for Gerald. ‘Now you listen to me, Hubbard. You can advise me all you like, and I’m glad that you do, but the fact remains that the yield should be greater. It’s simple mathematics, Hubbard. That’s all it is. If you can’t see it, then I will find a man who can andI’ll answer to Mr Allen for my decision. Do you understand me?’
‘Yes, ma’am. I understand you perfectly.’
‘I want every person picking two hundred pounds of cotton tomorrow. I want it put through the gin and bundled.’
‘Yes, ma’am.’
She rests her hands back in her lap. ‘I hold you responsible to do your own job, Hubbard, so please don’t let me have to speak to you of this again.’
Hubbard don’t shift his eyes from the road and he don’t raise his voice. ‘I hear you, Mrs Allen,’ he says calmly. ‘Two hundred pounds, miss. I heard that, right enough.’
I turn back to see Gerald staring at me all over again. It makes me uncomfortable and I don’t know where to look cos it feels like he’s staring right through to my soul and it ain’t right. He takes a baseball from the pocket of his grey tunic and holds it up for me to see. ‘You look like a handy pitcher to me. You got good long arms. I bet you could pitch as fast as the best of ’em if you
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