He had not told his wife of this, and she gave a little shriek of joy- ,
When he took her to bed that night, he made love to her with a vigor and
passion that sur
.prised her, and she responded with an enthusiasm that
intrigued him. Letitia supposed he had taken other
women, whores probably, while he was away at the war and
it did not bother her. It was a man's prerogative, and
soldiers did that sort of thing. But she would not
tolerate that sort of behavior now he was home, and the
best way to keep a man happy was to let him know he was
needed and appreciated. She entered into their
lovemaking with energy, although tempered with a
missionary correctness. She had found no outlet for her
own physical needs while he was away, and was surprised
to discover that she had desires for him. She caressed
him afterward, and they discussed their future.
Henderson thought they would do well with a little farm,
for life on the land was all he knew, but Letitia had
other ambitions. They could not afford a large holding,
nor the hands for a cotton crop, and she had no
intention of being married to a tobacco farmer.
She wanted to own a small store, a place of general provisions, and he
could maintain his association with the land, and get the produce they
sold at bargain prices. She was a shopgirl at heart, and they would do
well, because they would give credit to reliable customers.
Henderson was appalled. Credit was a fool's game. They could never be
sure of being repaid.
"No," said Letitia. "It is the way of the future. No one has any money
now, so they will flock to us, and we will extend ourselves. But things
will get better, because they cannot possibly get any worse. Money will
be made, and it will be owed to us, so gentlefolk will be bound to us by
what they owe, and will continue to shop with us, if only out of
embarrassment or gratitude."
562 ALEX HALEY'S QUEEN
Henderson continued to argue, but his was a hopeless cause. Letitia had
her mind set on a particular way of doing business, and she was a
formidable opponent. She never asked him where he got the money to fund
their new enterprise, and she never told her husband of the joy it would
give her when those who had previously shunned her, or sneered at her,
were forced to come begging for her largess.
They spent a pleasant three weeks in Charleston, and Letitia, who had no
fondness for her ungrateful family, gloried in the dire circumstances of
her relatives. Her father was dead, killed by drink, and her mother was
reduced to taking in paying guests of the lower white classes. Her brother
had never volunteered to fight, but had taken the coward's way, run the
blockade and gone to sea on Yankee merchant ships. Her sisters were both
widowed by the war, and one lived in the attic of her mother's house,
while the other had fallen considerably from grace, and received gentleman
callers who paid for the privilege. All this misfortune nourished
'Letitia's moral rectitude, and as the weather got hotter she was content
to travel back to Alabama with her husband and look for a suitable shop
to buy, secure in the knowledge that she, alone of her family, had a good
husband, prospects, and a Christian conscience.
They found a suitable building some two miles from The Forks of Cypress,
on the southern side, away from Florence. It was ideal. Folk who did not
wish to make the arduous and often dangerous journey to town could now
come to them. Including, perhaps, the high and mighty Jacksons. Letitia
had no love for her former employers, who were not ardently religious and
espoused some liberal ideas. Even though she had sought sanctuary in the
big house during the war, it was from loneliness, she told herself now,
not from fear, and both Sally and Lizzie had treated her with some
disdain, constantly, tacitly reminding her that she was present only as
a favor. Nor could she imagine how they could let that bastard mulatta
girl, living proof of the Massa's immorality, share the same roof and
prepare their food.
Henderson went about the countryside, renewing old acquaintances and
offering to buy their harvests for minimal rec-
QUEEN 563
ompense. The exigencies of the time gave him several reliable suppliers.
Letitia employed two nigras to paint and clean the old wooden building.
She had a counter made, and shelves, purchased a fine set of brass scales,
and, aproned and capped in clean, neat gingham, opened her shop for
business.
They did well, but not well enough to expand the store or staff, for they
gave credit freely, and bit quite heavily into Henderson's savings. He
had fretted about this for some time, but when the first repayment was
made on a debt, he relaxed, for at last he could see some potential for
return on his outlay. And his was a pleasant life. Letitia required
nothing of him but that he keep her shelves stocked, and so he spent his
days riding round the country, chewing the fat with friends, and his
evenings in the company of like-minded whites, reminiscing about the war,
and planning vengeance on Yankees and uppity niggers. Gradually, the
store became a meeting place for those young white males who responded
to Henderson's genial authority and who believed that the South would
rise again in glory, and the niggers be sent back to hell, where they
belonged.
Letitia's life was at least as pleasant, monarch of her small domain, and
she had a taste of triumph within a week of the store's opening. Jass had
come to her, asking for credit to buy food. He was not shy or diffident
about it, although it was anathema to him, but Letitia sensed his
distaste for the business and for her, and dragged it out as long as
possible, extracting every ounce of pleasure from it that she could.
Jass was scrupulous in his dealings with her. Whenever a little money
came his way, he would pay something from his bill, although every visit
to the bombastic proprietress repelled him. He went himself only when he
had money in his pocket. Otherwise, he sent Queen.
Queen hated going to the store. She hated asking for credit, and she and
Mrs. Henderson conducted their business with mutual loathing. More than
anything, Queen hated the white men who were always hanging around outside
the shop, lounging, loafing, threatening. On her first visits, with Jass,
they had ignored her, although clearly appreciative of her prettiness. One
crisp fall day, Jass was in Montgomery, and Queen had
564 ALEX HALEY'S QUEEN
gone on her own. Three of these rednecked men were inside the shop,
seated, or squa
tting against the wall, by the small potbelly stove in the
comer. Mr. Henderson was with them, and while Queen shopped she was aware
of their silent concentration on her. She had to pass close by one young
man, dirty and unshaven, to inspect a bag of dried beans, and he did not
move his feet out of the way, but leered at her.
"Nice day for it, lady," he said, but it was not pleasant, and Henderson
chuckled.
"Don't bother with her," he told his companions. "She's high yalla."
Queen blushed, and the men whistled.
"Could have fooled me," one said. "Don't matter a damn," said another.
"I don't mind a little midnight velvet."
They laughed, and stared at Queen, and she changed her mind about the
beans, and moved closer to the counter and the comparative security of
Mrs. Henderson's presence.
After that, it was always the same. Whether the men were inside or out,
they never directly threatened her, hardly spoke to her, but would stare
at her as she walked by, and whistle, or snicker, and whisper what they
would do to her if they ever found her alone on some dark night. She
complained to Jass, but he said there was nothing he could do, and he was
sure the men meant her no real harm. She was protected by the law. She
tried to avoid going, but no one else would, and it was her duty. Every
visit to the store became an ordeal, and she would stop her horse some
little distance from the shop, and steel herself for the coming
encounter.
The following summer came early, hot days in May that drained all energy.
Lizzie was listless, for she was nearly at term, and Sally had taken to
her bed with an unseasonable chill, brought on by the sharp change in the
weather. Jass had to go into Florence, on state business, and Queen wanted
to go with him to shop, but he told her not to be silly. They didn't need
much, and he couldn't get credit in town. Queen put off going to the store
for as long as she could, until it was late in the day. She might have
found reasons not to go at all, until Lizzie demanded fresh tomatoes for
a salad, and their own were not yet ripe.
QUEEN 565
Queen rode down to the store toward sunset. As usual, half a dozen young
men were outside with Henderson, and, as usual they leered at her, but let
her pass by unmolested. She gave her short list to Mrs. Henderson, and
watched carefully as the tomatoes were being weighed, because she had been
cheated before.
"Sure don't look like two pound to me," she murmured, half to herself, but
loudly enough for Mrs. Henderson to hear.
"Are you saying my scales are faulty?" the aggrieved shopkeeper demanded.
Queen shrugged. A couple of the young men had wandered into the store,
aimless, bored.
"You've lost none of your cheek, I see," Mrs. Henderson continued. "Ken
your place, girl. I suppose you want this on credit?"
"Massa Jackson's good for it, he pays his bills," Queen retorted, ill
temper simmering. "And your prices high enough."
It was more than she meant to say, but it was enough to provoke Mrs.
Henderson, who eyed her carefully.
"Are you sassing me?" she began, and overrode Queen's protestations.
"You're accusing me of overcharging you, in front of witnesses."
She nodded at the young men, who moved closer to enjoy the fun.
"Credit doesn't come free, you know," Mrs. Henderson announced righteously.
"And if the high-and-mighty Mr. Jackson has any complaints about the
arrangement, tell him to come and see me himself"
She paused for a moment, but only for a moment.
"Not send his bastard slave girl."
The young men laughed and muttered agreement. Queen turned on Mrs.
Henderson in fury.
"I ain't a slave no more," she cried, but Mrs. Henderson was in exquisite
control. She had been wanting to do this for years.
"You're a useless nigra, with no civil tongue in your head for decent white
folk," she snapped.
"in the old days she'd a been whipped," one of the young men agreed.
566 ALEX HALEY'S QUEEN
"That's what she needs now," his companion said, advancing on Queen.
"A good spanking, yeh, tan her little nigra tail," chimed the first.
It was as much sport as anything; it was doubtful they would have harmed
her here, in public, but they frightened Queen, and she saw no escape but
retreat.
"You cain't touch me," she cried, backing out of the door.
The young men followed, calling after her. "Come here, girl-teach you
some manners!"
But Queen was gone, out of the store, running to her horse tethered
nearby. The men outside were puzzled at first, until their companions
appeared, calling to Queen, announcing the dispute. Now they all ran to
Queen, jeering at her. One reached her as she mounted her horse and tried
to pull her down, but she hit him, hard, across the face, with her stock.
At that moment, it changed from a game to a deadly chase.
The man Queen had hit fell back, hand to a bloody gash on his cheek.
"Slut!" he cried. His friends caught him, and ran to their own horses.
Already it was past sunset, and a couple had the foresight to grab
burning brands that had been lighted outside the store.
Queen spurred her horse and galloped away as fast as she dared, but she
was not a natural rider, and the very speed of the horse frightened her.
She dared not took back, because she could hear the sound of the men in
pursuit of her, the pounding of the horses, and their laughing, angry
cries of "whore" and 11nigger slut," and the loudest voice was
Henderson's. The road stretched straight for a clear mile before her, and
she knew she could never outride them. Her best hope was to hide or to
lose them, and she turned off the road and into the dense wood.
But her pursuers were men of the land, hunting men, and it
made little difference to - them if their quarry was a frightened
animal or a black human being. They tracked her effortlessly
into the forest. Queen could not ride fast because of the tan
gled bushes, and she was scared that her horse would stumble.
As she twisted and turned her way through the trees, she could
see the flames of their burning brands, dancing, it seemed, all
around her, closer and closer, dazzling her, and all she could
hear was their taunting voices.
QUEEN 567
Her horse caught its foot on a broken log and fell, pitching Queen to the
ground. Winded and bruised, bleeding from some small cuts caused by
brambles, and blind with panic, she scrabbled through the undergrowth,
searching for some tree to hide behind. The gloaming was her friend, and,
unable to see where she was going, she slid on some rocks and pitched
forward into a narrow ditch.
Almost immediately, the men were upon her, sweeping their brands through
the air in search of her, the flames almost inches from her face. They
milled around,
unable to track her in the twilight.
"Cain't see her," called one, the fire he carried glittering in Queen's
eyes. There was a silence, broken only by the sounds of coming night in
the forest, and of her horse crashing through branches.
"Ain't too far, there's her hoss," cried another, and the hooves of his
horse knocked some stones down into the ditch, hitting Queen's face. He
spurred away and into the night.
Gradually, the sound of them receded.
"I ain't, giving up," she heard another shout, but farther away from her,
moving away, and she began to feel that she might be safe, for the moment
at least, but cowered in the muddy ditch, lest they should return.
She fainted from shock and fear and relief, and when she came to it was
night, with only a silver moon to guide her way. Her senses strained for
sounds or sight or feeling of the presence of the chasers, but there were
none, although the noises of the forest startled and unsettled her. She
lay clutching herself until she was sure they were gone, and crawled
slowly from the ditch.
Although she knew she could not be more than a few miles from The Forks,
she had no idea of where she was, and no sense of direction to guide her.
She walked forward, believing that she must eventually arrive somewhere,
but as she struggled on, brambles snatching at her hair, screech owls
startling her, moss causing her to slip from time to time, despair
settled on her.
She was hopelessly lost.
She thought of curling down somewhere, under a tree, to
568 ALEX HALEY'S QUEEN
rest until dawn, for she knew she would not sleep, but the woods were
alien to her, and almost as frightening as her pursuers, so she trudged
on, crying a little, whispering to God to bring her to some safe place.
After she had walked for perhaps a mile, she saw a light among the trees,
small flames, and stopped in fear, thinking it to be the brands of her
tormentors. She held her breath and stared at the fire, wondering where
she could hide, or if darkness was cloak enough, and then she realized
that the flames were constant and unmoving, and brighter than any torch.
Cautiously, carefully, she edged forward, trying not to make a sound. As
she came closer, she saw it was a campsite, and shivered, for perhaps the
men had settled there to wait for her, or dawn. She was exhausted and
hungry, and every bone in her body ached, and suddenly she no longer
cared what happened to her. She moved a little closer, and saw that the
men sitting round the camp fire were not white.
The color of their skin gave her a small sense of security, and she took
a few more steps toward them, wondering how to approach them. A twig
snapped under her foot and solved her problem, for they heard it, and
stood to see what was happening.
"Who dat dere?" a man's voice called.
The familiar slave dialect reassured her, and now she came out of the
sheltering trees, and closer to the men.
"Help me, I's lost," she called to them softly, and came closer still,
until her face was illumined by the flickering firelight.
"It dat house nigger," another said in surprise.
Three ex-slaves from The Forks of Cypress had made this little clearing
their home, preferring this freedom of the forest to their previous
bondage or any future dealings with the white man's world. Having been
here for some months, they had started to regard the place as their home,
and had cleared a large area. They had erected lean-to shelters from
branches and twigs, lived off the land that was generous to them. They
sometimes imagined that they would build a more permanent dwelling, and,
if no one troubled them or claimed the land, they might begin some small
farming.
They had no affection for a light-skinned mulatta who had
QUEEN 569
lived in the big house, had never given them the time of day, and might
very well be a spy for their previous Massa, who owned this land, with