Page 37 of Meet Me on Greenwood

"Most people don’t. I’ve traveled a bit and what we have in Tulsa is special. There is real wealth in the Black community here, and it’s the only place I’ve ever felt safe." She leaned down to whisper. "My father says that our community holds more wealth than all the elite white families in Tulsa combined, and they are spittin’ mad about it."

I sobered at that, the words landing heavier than she could have meant them to. She was right—there was real wealth here, more than most white Tulsans would ever acknowledge, and I knew exactly what that jealousy would cost.

"I’d love to go to the jazz club with you," I said.

"We have to take you shopping first."

"I’d like that."

I spent the next couple of days alone in my thoughts. I was growing stronger, which meant I could spend more time outside, searching through the work site for the materials I needed. The crew seemed a bit unsettled by my presence, and either Houston or Lettie would walk out to ask what I was doing and guide me back to the house.

I asked repeatedly if I could go into town, but the answer continued to be "not yet" or "it’s not safe." I was done with it. I’d never relied on anyone in my life, and I wasn’t about to do it now.

I wasn’t certain of the exact way to town, but I was determined to figure it out. Houston had promised to take me today, and today had come and gone like many of his promises seemed to. I wasn’t waiting around this time. There would be no more excuses. I still wasn’t sure what I would do when I got there. I had no money, but sitting around the house wasn’t getting me anywhere either.

I’d laced up the boots Lettie had given me days ago, which were a touch too big, and gathered one of Houston’s hats before setting out on my way.

The thing was, Houston did not appear to live close to the city. I wasn’t sure where I was, but judging by the tall trees, I guessed it was around 31st and Lewis.

I walked for ages until I could smell the sourness of the river and moved towards it. It was ironic that the one thing that hadn’t changed in over 100 years was that the Arkansas river still smelled of sewage.

I followed the scent, knowing that if I could walk along the river, I’d eventually make it to where I needed to go. Though the circumstances of being here weren’t ideal, for the first time in months, I found myself not having to worry about finances and keeping the business alive. I followed a monarch butterfly that drifted toward the large stems of a honeysuckle and picked a wild berry from a tree that I remembered from my childhood. They had an awful taste, but I’d pretended they were the sweetest berries, making jam and fancying up my drinks. I was so caught in my own nostalgia, I forgot to be wary of my surroundings. I’d forgotten where I was.

A twig snapped behind me.

"Are you lost ma’am?"

I stilled, my heart pounding out of my chest, realizing that I was alone in the woods with a man behind me. I looked around for an escape route in case I needed it. The light of the day was already beginning to slant, and I realized belatedly that I may not make it to my destination before nightfall.

My eyes darted, cataloguing an escape route before I'd even decided I needed one. Then I saw him fully, and my heart sank. A white man stood a few yards back, an axe resting easy over one shoulder like it weighed nothing at all, his blonde hair pushed back with a careless hand. He stood between me and the road. My only real escape was through the river, and there was no telling what kind of creatures were swimming in that.

"Do you speak?" he asked.

My eyes traveled to the axe and he must have realized how threatening he looked because he laid it on the ground then stepped out of immediate reach.

"I—lost my way. How far is it to the city?"

"You are a long way, I’m afraid. About a day’s walk." He looked me up and down. "You are mighty well dressed. Do you work in someone’s household?"

I nodded taking a step back and feeling my foot catch in a thick hole of mud. "Do you know Lettie?" I asked trying casually to pull myself free, but my foot was stuck at an uncomfortable angle. "She works for Dr. Whitaker."

"Is that right?" he asked skeptically, seeming pleased at my attempts to pull my foot free. "And do you belong to Dr. Whitaker?"

He moved closer and I took a step back. I had the sense that my answer to this question was very important to him. I pulled at the foot that was stuck, but the mud held fast, sucking tighter around my ankle, the more I fought it. The man was still coming closer. I pulled again, this time a bit more frantic. It finally came out at an angle it shouldn’t. I bit down on the sound that wanted to force itself past my lips.

"Are you well?" he asked.

I swallowed. "Yes. I am a guest of Dr. Whitaker. He is expecting me back."

The man smiled, approaching. "A pretty negro is his guest? Now tell me what kind of guests does Whitaker keep on his property?"

He was nearly on me now. I could tell by the tenderness in my foot wherever I ran he’d catch me. I closed my eyes ready to fall back into the water when I heard a familiar voice.

"An esteemed one." I opened my eyes in shock to see Houston walking towards us with a determined expression as he swept back the red curls from his face.

"Ms. Cross is my assistant." His stern gaze was glued to the man who was now gathering his axe. "I meant no offense." The stranger turned back to me. "I’m Gray Sterling. It is nice to meet you, Ms. Cross. I only wanted to help."

Houston inhaled sharply. "That is kind of you, Sterling, but we do not need your help."