PRIVATE CATHAY'S SECRET
Prologue
St. Louis, Missouri, 1866
Cathay Williams stood outside the St. Louis courthouse for a long time. She looked down at the baggy pants and blousy shirt she was wearing, clothes found in Miz Powers' washhouse. Her pants were held up by cord suspenders across the shoulders, and the shirt flapped in the gentle breeze that blew across the square. These don't half fit me none, she thought, but maybe they do the trick. Cathay brushed her large, calloused hands over her head of short, wooly hair as she stared at the former slaves lined up beside her. Would the U.S. Army really take these men to join up like her cousin Jasper said? Some of them wore ill-fitting faded blue or gray uniforms, mostly ragged. Others wore dusty overalls and shirts with patches on top of patches such as those they had worn in the fields. Still others were dressed much as she was. Cathay watched the men in the line press forward toward the recruitment table.
A uniformed soldier approached and slapped her shoulder. "Go on fella," he said. "If you gonna join up, you'd better get in line. After awhile they're gonna stop you colored boys from signing up."
A smile creased Cathay Williams' face.
The would-be recruit chuckled and thought, that soldier thinks I'm a man.
PART ONE
JOHNSON PLANTATION,
OUTSIDE
JEFFERSON CITY,
MISSOURI, EARLY 1861
CHAPTER 1
Cathay Williams crept quietly into Master Joseph’s room and closed the door. She laid an armful of linens on the thick four poster bed and pretended to feather dust the ornately carved mahogany wardrobe that stood beside it. Although Cathay despised the house duties that Mama gave her, duties of dusting, washing, mending, and helping in the kitchen, she never minded taking the laundry up to Master Joseph’s room. The manliness of the room, the tobacco smell, and the rich earthy colors of the walls, rugs and bed coverings gave her a sense of strength and power whenever she entered.
Cathay knew she would provoke Mama if she lingered there too long, but she couldn’t resist admiring the elaborate scene on the massive mahogany table in front of the tall double windows. A felt cloth covering made the table resemble a grassy battleground with its rows of little military figures, lined up for battle. She peered at some of the soldiers placed behind miniature cannons on the felt covered table top; some standing with their guns pointed; others kneeling, rifles balanced on one knee.
Martha, Cathay's mama and the Johnson's cook, wanted to groom Cathay as a house servant, especially to help her in the kitchen, but Cathay didn’t want to learn to cook. Sixteen-year-old Cathay had heard of war being talked about. The military nature of Master Joseph’s bedroom fascinated her and she imagined herself as one of the little men in uniform.
She'd heard the tales of regiments of soldiers gathering to fight for the Confederacy, tales brought by slaves that came from nearby Independence. Even though she knew she was a slave, she wished she could be a soldier. It seemed like that would be an exciting life.
Cathay scanned the imitation battlefield, noting the position each soldier held. Oh, how she wanted to handle the tiny figures! They drew her tall, muscular body to them like a bear to a hive of bees. Cathay took a deep breath. Slowly, she reached a long, pointed finger toward the glistening canon. As she touched the cool metal surface, a sharp voice split the air.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
Cathay jumped at the sound.
Master Joseph had opened the door so quietly that Cathay never heard him creep behind. Startled, her elbow hit the table. One hand brushed the cannon and swept it into the rows of soldiers. The other hand holding the feather duster flew to her mouth. Feathers and dust floated into her face. She sneezed.
"Achoo. S-sorry, Mastah Joe." Cathay gasped. "I was just trying to find a way to d-dust." Cathay trembled as she saw Master Joseph’s angry expression. His eyes were cold slits of gray steel as he raised his hand to swat her. Instead he yelled.
"Get out of here and don't you ever come in here again."
Cathay dropped the feather duster and stumbled from the room. Forgetting the linens she was supposed to put away, she flew downstairs.
* * *
Cathay’s mama spooned batter for dumplings into a pot of chicken stew. As Cathay ran trembling into the kitchen, she faced her mama’s glare.
"You was supposed to be here long before now, Missy. Where you been?"
"Uh-I-uh-I was-uh..." she began. She cringed.
"What's wrong with you, Cathay Williams? What you done, gal?"
Cathay's eyes widened and filled with tears. She knew her mama would get into trouble along with her if the young master told his father.
Cathay couldn’t tell Mama about knocking the soldiers over. Not the whole truth.
"I was upstairs putting away the linen in Mastah Joe’s room. While I was dusting, Mastah Joe's soldiers fell over. He yelled at me."
As Cathay watched Mama’s lips tighten, she realized she was in big trouble. She saw Mama's eyes close to slits and her nose flared.
"So they just fell over all by theyselves, huh?”
Martha pushed Cathay toward the kitchen door. “You better get on down to the quarters and help Miz Alice with her chil’ren." she said. "I'm-a take care you later."
Cathay hurried from the kitchen and down the road to the slave quarters. When Mama threatened with her lips tight like that, Cathay knew she was sure in for a good whipping.