"Dey knew too well, we would shoot dem first thing. I remember well I was in Tuscaloosa, Alabama and dere was a speech made dere by General Forest on a Sunday. He said, ’Dere ain’t a Yankee in 500 miles of Tuscaloosa, Alabama.’ So de Rebs was so happy ’bout dat, dey started early de very next morning putting de flooring back in de bridge dey done took out so de Yankees couldn’t cross and get to them.
"The following Tuesday night, de very next day I mean, don’t you know, dem Yankees come in our town cross dat very bridge. That same night old Marse made us hitch up all his horses and git up all de flour, meat and everything we done raised, and carry it up Tom Bilby River. It was a swamp, to hide it from de Yankees. But, honey, dat didn’t do a bit of good, dem Yankees got all our stuff and us, too, and destroyed everything he had. Us slaves was so mad at Old Marse, we helped ’em git rid of everything, den went on back home, we had no where else to go, and de war wasn’t over and we hadn’t nary a penny of money, child. No we didn’t.
"I made my last crop in 1867 on dat very plantation where I lived all my days. Of course we was free den or supposed to be free. Dey promised to pay us, but we never got nothin’, least not yet, Marse ain’t paid me, and he’s dead now. In March 1868 dey sent to de field for all us hands to come up to de house to sign a contract. We all went. We was so used to minding old Marse when he sent for us we just mind right on like it was still slavery. So I had always been mighty handy ’bout most things so he wanted me ’bove de others, so he took my hand, put it on his pen and held it right dere and signed my name hisself. I got mad as a wet hen ’bout dat agreement he read to me. So he tried to make me feel good saying he was goin’ to give me half. I knowed better.
"I felt dere was going to be some trouble up to de house, so I had a pistol in my pocket, that had been dropped by the Yankees on purpose to help us slaves shoot our way out. So I just told my old boss I ain’t goin’ to do it, and when he raised up at me I just whipped out dat pistol and everything in sight got out of my way. I was mad a plenty, and I already always had plenty of temper. So while I had everybody scared and excited I left and never did go back. I went to Columbus, Mississippi, and stayed until 1923. All dat time I done share cropping farming and made good. When I left dere I came to St. Louis and have not worked since. I was too old for a job, but sister, I worked many a day for two bits a day and churned all day to get milk to drink ’cause I couldn’t get no other food. I cut grass—mowed after share cropping days were over.