The locust tree had been uprooted thirty years ago to make room for the new courthouse, but as she made her way along Creston, Virginia’s Main Street, ninety-three-year old Bessie Hall continually glanced back as if it were still there.  She was bent over and using a cane as she walked slowly up Main Street.

The face of the five-foot tall woman was covered extensively with a thick, brown foundation.  This was supplemented by heavy, bright red lipstick that saturated her lips; smears of it rested on the top and bottom of her lips.  The mascara used on her eyelids and her false eyelashes were applied in such a fashion as to almost completely obscure her eyes, which were behind thick-lenned eyeglasses.  Perched on her head was a large yellow and blue flowered hat with a small, butterfly-shaped, purple ribbon on the front of it. A flower-print, ankle length dress was worn under a mid-waist wool coat. She always wanted to look nice and presentable when she attended church and visited her son’s gravesite in the Creston cemetery.

On this particular early, warm spring Sunday afternoon, Miss Bessie, the name by which most people referred to her, was talking to herself and the few people on Main Street gave her empathetic smiles and nods, as she walked by them. Eventually, Miss Bessie turned down a side street which connected to a narrow dirt and gravel road that went by several houses. 

As she walked, Miss Bessie came upon a group of girls who were jumping Double Dutch in the front yard of one of the houses.

“Hi, Miss Bessie,” the children shouted.

“Hello, little darlin’s,” Miss Bessie responded. 

A weary Miss Bessie sat down upon a three-foot high wall, rested her chin on her embraced hands that now cupped the cane’s handle. and began watching the girls. As she watched the girls, Miss Bessie marveled at how they nimbly jumped in and out of the twirling ropes, while the other girls skillfully rotated it with their hands and wrists.  The rhythmic putt putt of the rope striking the ground put Miss Bessie into a trance-like state, as it made her mind wander to a time when these girls didn’t even exist as thoughts. 

In the spring of 1878, Miss Bessie, a widow who had her only one child, a son, Mark, was hired as a cook and housekeeper by Nathan Brewer. Nathan was a widower with a twenty-year old daughter, Kathleen. At the time, Miss Bessie and twenty-two-year old Mark lived in a house left to her by her late father, Martin Shiflett, a former slave who had received the two-story house and seven acres of land from the family of his last owner. Miss Bessie’s husband, Mark’s father, had died of cancer several years earlier.

For the most part, Mark’s days were filled with doing an assortment of odd jobs in and around Creston, such as mucking stables at horse farms, and doing yard work and small repair jobs for homeowners.  His nights were usually spent playing dice or cards, and drinking with his friends.  Therefore, when Mr. Brewer mentioned to Miss Bessie that he was looking for a young man to assist Kenner Nickels, another black man who worked for him, she recommended Mark for the job. He was subsequently hired by Mr. Brewer and proved himself to be a hard worker who showed up early and, if the need arose, stayed late. Miss Bessie told Mark she was proud of him and urged him to continue to impress Mr. Brewer with his work habits.

Approximately seven months into Mark’s employment, however, Miss Bessie noticed subtle things happening between Mark and Kathleen.  One day, while gathering eggs, she saw them kissing behind the Brewers’ pony shed.  She warned each of them individually and together about the risks in what they were doing.  She was especially harsh on Mark, because as someone born into slavery and who grew up in the early years after it had ended, she’d witnessed firsthand what happened to black men who disobeyed the written and unwritten rules regarding interracial romantic relationships in America.  Despite her warnings, however, Mark and Kathleen continued their liaison.  Therefore, she wasn’t surprised, but angry and distraught, when just after the New Year, she learned that they had run away together. 

During the four days of their absence, Miss Bessie hardly slept, and prayed that they would make it safely to wherever they were going.  On the other hand, she hoped that perhaps Kathleen would come home alone, while allowing Mark to continue on his journey away from Creston.  She soon learned, however, that both had been found in Maryland and were being returned to Creston. After they arrived in Creston, Kathleen was taken home, while Mark, who in addition to being charged with miscegenation, was also charged with theft, was placed in the town jail.

When Miss Bessie visited Mark the following day, she saw that his face was battered and bruised, and his bottom lip was swollen.

Mark explained to her that after stealing and driving a horse carriage to Bakersville, he and Kathleen had stowed away in one of the baggage cars of a train heading to New York City.  He hoped to get there and apply to be a Pullman porter. He also said he felt that it would be easier for him and Kathleen if they were above the Mason-Dixon Line.

He further explained that when he and Kathleen arrived in Maryland, they stayed with his cousin, Linwood, in Farmersville, a small town just outside of Baltimore for two nights.  Linwood’s wife, Margaret, was friends with a local pastor, who lived next door to them.  The pastor married Kathleen and Mark in his livingroom, with his wife, and Margaret and Linwood the only people in attendance.  Mark intended to use Linwood’s horse and carriage to take backroads as far as we could on their journey north.  Unfortunately, the day before they were going to leave, he and Kathleen saw Mr. Brewer and three other men approaching the house.  The four men put them in separate horse drawn carriages and brought them back to Creston.

When his mother began to cry, Mark told her not worry. “Mama de worse dat cain happen is dat deese white folks will run me outta Creston, an’ tell me nevva ta come back agin,” said a smiling Mark.  Despite his smile, his mother could detect a bit of nervousness and uncertainty in his voice.

Miss Bessie told him she’d be back in the morning with some more food and another change of clothes.  She hugged him and kissed his cheek goodbye. She collected Mark’s personal possessions from the jailer and went home; she prayed for Mark’s safety, as she walked.

Later that night, Miss Bessie was awakened by the sound of loud knocking at her front door. When she opened the door, she saw Mark’s best friend, Floyd Walcott, standing at the door crying.  The visibly upset Floyd’s face was pale and there were tears in his eyes. He hugged Miss Bessie and with his arms around her shoulders, guided her back inside the house. Soon Miss Bessie heard the sound of other people coming onto her front porch.

“What’s de matta, boy?” Miss Bessie asked Floyd.

“It’s bad Miss Bessie,” he replied. “Real bad.”

Miss Bessie’s longtime friend June Sharp came into the house. “You’d better sit, Bessie.”

Miss Bessie did as she was instructed.

June began to explain. “Bessie, summa dem white folks broke into the jail tonight an’ hurt Mark.”

“Whachu mean ‘hurt Mark’?” asked Miss Bessie, her voice quivering.

Tears began forming in June’s eyes and she continued. “Dey hanged him from dat locust tree near de courthouse.”

“Name uh God!” said Miss Bessie, as she covered her mouth with her hand.  “Please tell me you lyin’.”

“Ah wish Ah was, Bessie,” said June. “But it’s de trufe.”

Miss Bessie lowered her head onto to her table and began to cry, as other people walked into her house.

A few days after Mark’s death, Kathleen was sent to live with relatives in Richmond; she and Miss Bessie neither spoke to nor saw each other again.

In the weeks that followed, Miss Bessie’s two sisters, and several friends, as well as some of Mark’s friends, came by to check on her and bring food and other necessities. Additionally, her nearest neighbors, the Bennets, who lived a half-mile away, often assisted her with assorted tasks  

Miss Bessie eventually took a job with another white family, the Barretts.  The Barretts included Mr. and Mrs. Barrett, and five children, ranging in age from seven to sixteen.  The adult and teenaged Barretts were well aware of the events involving Miss Bessie and, out of respect, were very careful never to mention anything related to it in Miss Bessie’s presence. On two separate occasions, Mr. and Mrs. Barrett had walked into the kitchen to find Miss Bessie crying.  Out of respect for her, however, the two had hastily and quietly retreated from the kitchen, giving Miss Bessie sufficient time to compose herself. Additionally, both stood just outside of the kitchen to prevent anyone else from entering.

Approximately two years after Mark’s death, Miss Bessie came home one evening and was surprised to find Nathan Brewer sitting on her front porch. She hesitantly approached the house.

Nathan stood and began speaking.

“Good evenin’, Bessie.”

Miss Bessie stared at him and climbed the porch’s seven steps, then sat in a rocking chair on the porch. “What cain Ah do fo’ you, Mr. Brewer?”

After sitting back down, he replied, “Ah jus’ wanted ta settle up some unfinished business.”

“Whachu mean by dat?” Miss Bessie asked.

“Well, ‘bout Kathleen an’ Mark, of course.”

“As far as Ah’m concernt, dat bidness was finished when Mark was put in de ground.”

“Now, now, Bessie you cain’t mean dat.”

“Ah damn sho do. Now, whachu want, Mr. Brewer?”

Mr. Brewer shook his head and began speaking again. “Well, first off, Ah had ta walk near de track ta git out hair. Didn’t want anybody ta see me comin’.”

“An’?”

“Well, we both know how nig . . . coloreds cain be about certain thangs.”

Miss Bessie only stared at him.

“Shit, Ah hadta go outside of Creston to fine nig . . . coloreds willin’ ta work fo’ me. Even some white people hair gimme dirty, angry, hateful looks when Ah travel through town.”

“We boaf know why,” said Miss Bessie.

Nathan continued. “Thangs jus’ got a little out of hand dat night. Me an’ de boys had been drainkin’ a bit too much an’ de next thang Ah knew . . .”

“Y’all murdered ma boy,” said Miss Bessie in an angry and defiant tone.

Nathan looked down at the porch’s floorboards.

“Go on, Mr. Brewer,” said Miss Bessie. “Ah got stuff ta do.”

He continued. “In any event. when we found ‘em up in Merland, Ah was jus’ gonna give Mark some money, let him get on his way and bring Kathleen back down hair ta Creston. Ah figured she’d get over her infatuation with Mark if he wasn’t around. Outta sight, outta mind, as dey say.”

Miss Bessie only stared at Nathan.

“He said he was too much in love with Kathleen ta be bought off an’ dat me an’ de men who were with me should jus’ let dem be, an’ go on backta Creston.”

“He was right.”

“Maybe. But, Ah still tried ta convince ‘im, but he wouldn’t budge. An’ my temper got de best of me, so Ah hit ‘im an’ den de nex’ thang Ah knew we were all headed backta Creston.”

Miss Bessie stared at Nathan.

Nathan looked up towards the porch’s roof.

“What was yo’ purpose in comin’ hair, Mr. Brewer?’

“Ah guess Ah jus’ wanted ta say that Ah was sorry ‘bout what happened.”

“Guilty conscious, huh?”

“Dat might be part of it. Kathleen hasn’t spoken ta me in almost two years.”

“Well, you said all ya needed ta say, as far as Ah’, concernt.”

“Okay, Ah bes’ be goin’ now.” He stood.

“Yes you should. But, befo’ you leave, lemee show you sumfin dat Mark gave me jus’ befo’ he was kilt.”

“Okay.” Nathan took his seat again.

Miss Bessie rose and went into the house.

A few minutes later, Nathan felt a presence behind him and then the edge of a straight razorblade press against his throat. Blood began pouring down the front of his shirt. He put his hand against his throat, as warm blood flowed profusely from the razor’s incision. He slumped in his chair and then fell onto the porch.

Miss Bessie dragged his body down the porch’s steps and into the back of the house. She dexterously lifted Nathan’s body onto her well’s walls and then flipped it inside. Miss Bessie said a short prayer.

“Mark gave me dat razor jus’ as Ah was leavin’ de jailhouse,” she spoke down into the well. Tole me Ah might need it one day. Ah guess he was right.” She then tossed the razor into the well.

She then began walking back to the house to clean up the blood on the front porch.

Miss Bessie was shaken from her thoughts by the sound of one of the girls falling to the ground. “Are you alright, baby?” shouted Miss Bessie in the loudest voice she could muster.

“Yes, mam,” replied the girl as she patted the palms of her hands together and bent to brush dirt and grass from her knees and shorts.

“Alright now,” said Miss Bessie. “Y’all be careful wif dat rope. Dey’s dange’rus!”

“Yes, mam,” the girls replied.

With the help of her cane, Miss Bessie stood and continued her journey home.

As she did every Sunday, after reaching her house, Miss Bessie walked to where its well had been located. Over the years, renovations to the house had included the installation of indoor plumbing, so the well wasn’t needed and had been buried. She placed a spray of lilies on the site, then said a short prayer.

“Mark said ta keep givin’ you deese, cause dey was Kathleen’s favorites.”

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