The War is Over… We are Free!

It was burin’ mornin’ Texas on June 19, the year bein' 1865. I just washed up and dressed and was gettin’ ready to cross that old dirt road to go to the fields and start my work. You see, I worked a cotton plantation near 6 miles outta Galveston proper.

Over that old dirt road, I seen my crew in the field. I seen Buck. I seen Billy, and I seen, my best friend, Henry, the hardest crew worker. First to the field and last left at night. I even seen Sally. Boy, I sure liked the way Sally picked her cotton. Me, I was always late to the field and Mr. Jones never took to keen to that.

From that old dirt road, I seen my crew goin’ thru that same old tired act I knew over well… bendin’ down… grabbin’ cotton. puttin’ what was grabbed in the sack...wipin’ foreheads… then bendin’ down again to get more cotton. Me and crew did this all day. Bendin’, puttin’, wipin’, bendin’. And all this with the Devil’s sun lookin’ at us. My back was hurtin’ just lookin’ at ‘em... my head sweatin’.

But then the crew stopped pickin’ 'bout all at once. And with a hand on a sore somethin' and full cotton sack droopin’ from the other, my crew saw down that old dirt road. I saw too with my hand on my back still hurtin' from lookin’ at my crew work. We all heard horses hoofs but seen no horses.

See, round this time, dirt kicked up so bad from that old dirt road even if a little birdy flew over it. Momma used to say, you could always hear things from that dusty road, seemed like hours, before you seen it.

Everybody lookin' the same way, somebody whispered, “them is soldiers.” Then another somebody said in regular tone, “them ain’t soldiers, they is Union soldiers!” Full cotton sacks fell down and other crew hands forgot on sore body parts and dropped too.

After, we seen near a full 20 horse and men come from a dirt cloud they spun up from that old dirt road. By now, we seen the ‘noise Adam’ had an Eve, men in brown dusty blue uniforms on big brown and black horses.

Then, horses and men halted near a team-and-wagon away from crew and me. Them lookin’ at us and us lookin’ at them. Everyone was lookin’ but nobody lips was moving. I think we was all waitin' for that old dirt road dust cloud to go somewhere and lay down. It did, and one of those soldiers pulled a paper from his dirt dusty pouch and started reading somethin’.

He said the War was over, some folks called the Confederates was beat up bad and defeated; all us folks were free, and no one could tell us what to do no more…not even Mr. Jones. And best yet, no more cotton pickin’ and if we did, we get money for it like free folk.

Then before we knew it, all those horses and soldiers about-faced, turned around, and went back down that old dirt road. And don’t you know, they, spun up that old dirt road cloud again that took them back from where they came from.

No crew yelled nobody screamed… we just looked up to the Devil’s sun and cried kinda to ourselves. We are all free!