She didn’t know who Nellie Bly was, of course, and he explained that she was a woman who did what he did, and that made her stand very still. The other women she’d met at the office had done things like fetching coffee and hanging up hats and coats and writing down things for the men. That a woman could go out in the world like Mr. Woodson did, all by herself, and write her own words that so many people would read—she couldn’t believe such a thing!
Mr. Woodson also took her to another part of town to meet one of his friends. This part of the city was different; the buildings looked newer, they were closer together and not as grand as where the Johnsons lived. And the people who lived there had skin that was dark, brown and caramel and every shade in between. At first she was a little afraid of them, they looked so different even from the Natives she’d seen, these dusky people in regular clothes, and so she cringed walking among them. But Mr. Woodson tightened his grip on her hand and told her, in a half whisper, to behave herself. He didn’t seem afraid, but he did look a little nervous.
They walked into a saloon—“If the Johnsons found out they’d have my head so mum’s the word!”—and Mr. Woodson picked her up and sat her on a stool in front of a long bar. Behind the bar was another dark man, and Mr. Woodson introduced him as “Mr. Ollie Tennant.”
“Pleased to meet you, young lady,” Mr. Tennant said solemnly, holding out his hand.
Anette looked at Mr. Woodson, who nodded. She held out her own hand, and Mr. Tennant shook it politely. Then she relaxed, because Mr. Tennant smiled kindly at her and gave her a glass of something called sarsaparilla, which was bitter at first, then surprised her with a smooth sweetness as it went down her throat. She liked it.
“I have a little girl about the same age as you,” Mr. Tennant said proudly. “Melissa. She’s out playing with her friends, though.”
“That’s nice,” Anette said. “Does she look like you?”
Mr. Tennant seemed perplexed by this question, but then he smiled—he had a nice smile, it went all the way up to his eyes—and he nodded.
“Dark as midnight,” he replied. “You might say it runs in the family.”
Mr. Woodson chuckled at this, and then the two of them chatted a little—Mr. Woodson asked Mr. Tennant how business was on this side of town, and Mr. Tennant said it was good, better than it had been at the Lily, and that his wife was happier here. So was he.
“We look after one another,” he said with satisfaction. “And we have some Negro schoolteachers here now, we’re building a fine new high school. You were always good to me, Woodson. You’re the only one of my old customers to stop by and say hello. I really appreciate that.”
“I hear there’s going to be a newspaper for the colored population. You should try your hand at writing for it, Ollie. I mean that. You’re a well-read cuss, that’s for sure. And people on the other side of town know you, they might actually read it if you’re part of it.”
“Maybe.” Mr. Tennant nodded thoughtfully, and Anette thought she saw a little gleam in his soft brown eyes that was still there when she and Mr. Woodson said goodbye.
* * *
—
AS THE WEEKS raced by in this way, she discovered some surprising things. First of all, how dirty the city was! There was soot and grime everywhere, and animal waste in the streets. The prairie was dirty, of course—goodness, it was all dirt! Even the walls where she’d once lived were composed entirely of dirt. But that kind of dirt came up from the earth, which she could never think of as anything other than good. The dirt in the city came from the sky and from people. City dirt was dirtier than country dirt, it just was.
She also learned that you could get tired from good things almost as much as you can get tired from bad things. While her body felt stronger, more rested, than she could ever remember it feeling, the truth was that sometimes she grew weary just the same. She could get exhausted just from too much laughing, she found out. Too many outings, too many new experiences. Too many emotions—they could wear a person out. She thought she’d never be tired again, once it had been explained to her that she wouldn’t have to work like she used to. She had been wrong about that.