The Two Sams: Men of the West. F. M. Worden
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three sat silently staring into the fire. Soon the water boiled. Sam from a small sack, took a hand full of ground coffee and dropped it into the boiling water. From a food sack he took a chunk of meat wrapped in oil cloth.
“Possum killed and cooked yesterday,” he told them.
“I shore like’s possum meat,” the black man said licking his lips.
Sam brought forth tin cups and plates, from the utensils sack. He cut three chunks of meat and put them in a skillet by the fire to let them heat. Cold biscuits and a baked potato finished the meal.
“Go ahead, eat, eat.” He set three tin cups on the ground and filled them with coffee. He motioned for them to pick up and drink. “Careful, it’s hot,” he advised. They both cupped the cups in their hands and sipped slowly looking at Sam as they did. It burned the man’s mouth.
“Blow on it,” Sam kinda laughed. “Never had hot coffee before?”
“No sur, never has. I’z a wonders why our white folk always had to have coffee in the morning.”
Sam laughed, “Now you know.”
“It’s good.”
They built the fire up. Now they could see each other as the darkness came on, the fire danced in their eyes. Sam could see hunger had taken them over as he handed plates to eager hands. They pushed the food into their mouths with their fingers as fast as they could.
“Take it easy you wanta to choke. When was last time you had some food?”
“Kin’t rightly say. Been some time...ni-on two- three days.”
“What-ya drink if you drank no coffee?” asked Sam.
“Well water mostly, had apple cider one time when the foreman ain’t looking. We squeeze pear juices when they was ripe, if we could steal some pears.” The man hung his head as to be ashamed of stealing.
“I ain’t been told your names, what do I call you?”
“My name is Joe,” the man replied.
“What’s your name?” he asked the woman.
She replied, “I ain’t never had a named.”
“What would you be called?” Sam asked.
The man spoke up. “I calls her sweets.”
“I can’t be call-en her sweet’s.” Sam laughed. “How come you think she’s with child?”
The woman stood up, pulled her dress up and showed him her little round belly. “I believe you’re right,” Sam said. “She sure looks like she is.” He had no more questions.
After eating they put out the fire, loaded the wagon, untied the mules, climbed aboard and drove on toward home.
When they turned into the farm it was well after dark. Light from the kitchen thru a dim light on the wagon and mules.
Liz called out. “What took so long, you been gone all day, did you buy one?”
Sam yelled back, “Come see for your self.”
The two blacks climbed down and stood on the ground by the wagon. The dim light hardly showed how they looked as she appeared in the door way.
“My, you got two?”
“Why sure,” Sam said with some pride. “And ones a woman.”
“Good lord, ones a woman?” She came closer to see them. “I can’t believe it,” she responded. “How in the world did you manage to do that?”
“Just lucky I guess.”
Liz motioned for the woman to come into the house.
“Joe and I will put the mules away,” Sam called
The two women entered the kitchen. The black one looked all around. Liz asked, “Can you talk?”
“Yes-m I shore can.”
Liz told her to come over by the fire. “Are you hungry?”
“Yes-m, we done ate on da road, I’z a still starved. I needs a drink of water.”
“You can have all you can drink,” Liz told her. She set a pitcher and a cup on the table. The women took two... three... four cups full. “My, my, you had a terrible thirst. When the men get back we’ll set some food on the table. I’ve cooked a chicken, baked some fresh bread and made a peach cobbler. What do I call you? What’s your name?”
“I ain’t never been named,” she said with a frown on her face.
“You never had a name? Good lord how come?”
“Don’t know and don’t rightly care. The foreman don’t give a rip, if you’s got’s a name or not. I-za always works as a field hand.”
“Well!” Liz said. “I had a Mammy growing up, her name was Maude. I loved her like my own Momma, my Ma was sickly all the time while I was growing up. Maude was like my Ma, when Ma died I cried for days. My Maude died a few days later. I never knew if I was a crying for my Ma or for Maude. I was twelve years old then. Will you be my new Maude? I’ll call you Maude, okay?”
“Good with me,” the black woman seemed please to have a name. “My name is Maude? Maude, Maude. I like’s the sound of Maude. Was your Maude a slave?” the woman asked.
“I didn’t know. She was always living at our house. She was always there.” Liz then asked the woman, “How old are you?”
“I don’t rightly know, Maybe...” she stopped. “Maybe, maybe thirty years.” She covered her face with her hands as she spoke, she looked to be much older. Liz could see the cuts around her wrists.
“Good lord what has they did to you? Your wrists are bleeding. What-a they do to you?”
“They tied us with wire, our legs too. We all stayed tied til we was sold. We rode a wagon from our home place. The man was afraid we’d run off.” All the time she spoke she rubbed her arms and legs.
“I’ll fix your cuts.” Liz went out of the room and returned with a jar of salve and treated Maude’s cuts. Liz asked again if she knew how old she was.
“I’za don’t rightly know.”
“Did you know your Momma?”
“No ma’am, I don’t think I had a Momma.”
“You had to have a Momma. What’s the first thing you remember?”
“I’za on a big boat. We niggers was all down inside the boat. All kind of us blacks, more men, just a few women and us chill-en.” The woman seemed unconcerned.
“Who raised you?” Liz asked.
“No one’s. I hung around the plantations slave cabins. Someone would take time to feed us chill-en. All the white folk call us pick- a- ninnies. I guess we was.” Her voice trembled, her eyes were red and blood shot.
As she spoke she wiped tears away with her dirty grey dress. “I’za chopped and picked cotton as soon as I’za big nuff.”
“When did you and Joe? You know get together?”
“I knowed Joe a long time. He crawled into my bed one night when I was young. We been together all the time. I had two chill-en with Joe. The master wants me to have chill-en, so’s they can sell em.”
The men returned from the barn and came into the kitchen. ”We’ve washed up and ready for some food,” Sam said.
“Set, I’ll put it on the table,” Liz told them. The two blacks pulled back, looked in astonishment. Sam demanded, “Set, yore in our house now.” They did but very uneasy. They never had set at a white man’s table before. They both looked at each other, not believing what was happening to them.
Liz