Out From This Place by Joyce Hansen Page A

“Jason, I your Missy now. Don’t—want—to—hear—nothin’ else about Missy.” She punctuated each word with a whack.
    â€œYou should’ve done that a long time ago,” Rayford muttered.
    When she released him, Jason dashed toward the woods. Easter started to follow, but Rayford grabbed her arm. “He’ll be back.”
    â€œSuppose he try and get to his Missy?”
    Rayford smiled. “He’ll have to swim. He’s not going to walk in those woods by himself. The only other way out is past the missionary lady. He’s probably hiding behind one of those trees and watching us talking.”
    Rayford entered his hut and returned with a pair of old trousers and a piece of rope. “He can wear these.” He handed Easter the pants and rope. He also gave her a longhandled hoe. “Julius will show you how to use this. He’s in the field with Rose now.”
    Easter dug her bare feet into the dusty lane and tried to thank Rayford for helping her, but she couldn’t get the words out. How could she be thankful about staying on the plantation and having to work in the fields? She walked back to her hut and left the trousers on Jason’s pallet.
    On her way to the fields she spotted a flock of robins flying toward the pines, away from the plantation. She wished she was as free as they were.
    When she reached the field, Julius was showing Rose how to loosen the ground and chop away the marsh grass growing around the cotton plants. He bowed to Easter as she neared them. “Good morning, Miss Easter.” He smiled, tipping his battered straw hat. Easter saw nothing to smile about. Her face was as long as the rows of cotton plants as she followed his instructions. The sun beat relentlessly on her head, and she wished that she had her straw hat.
    They worked steadily, but Easter couldn’t stop looking toward the woods to see whether Jason would appear. “Well, ladies,” Julius said, “I think you know what to do. Just don’t uproot the plant.” He grinned broadly, especially at Easter, showing almost perfectly straight white teeth. Then he left to work in his own field.
    Easter felt Rose’s eyes on her. “Why you didn’t leave?” Rose asked.
    Easter carefully loosened the dirt. Looking at the plant and not at Rose’s probing eyes, she told her what had happened.
    At first, Rose was silent. Then a low giggle escaped her mouth. “So Uncle Ray save you from the missionary lady. I hear it cold up in the North. Oh, Lord, Easter, wish I could’ve been there to see it.” Rose bent down and pulled out the grasses growing around the plant. “Where the brat? Did he go north with Missy Missionary?” She imitated Jason’s whine.
    â€œI give him one good spanking, and he run and hide in the woods.”
    Rose laughed so hard and loud that the other hands looked at her and chuckled too.
    Rose’s laughter was contagious. Easter was surprised at herself for smiling in a cotton field. The sun burned hotter as the morning dragged on. She tried to throw thoughts out of her mind like a farmer dumping hay out of a wagon.
    Stopping for a moment, Easter scanned the edge of the woods for Jason. She noticed that very young children were playing near the fields while the older children carried water and some helped with the hoeing. Easter watched Isabel walk toward a tiny bundle lying on the ground and realized that the bundle was Miriam. Another woman carried her child, about three months old, tied to her back as she worked.
    Easter shaded her eyes and gazed toward the cabins. A small, brown figure walked slowly toward the fields. As it drew closer, she recognized Jason. He’d snuck back into the cabin and put on the old trousers, tying the rope around his waist to hold them up. He still wore his ruffled shirt.
    â€œI sorry I hit you,” she told him when he walked over to her. He didn’t