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WPA Slave Narrative Collection

Interview with Henrietta Lee

Thursday, September 17, 1936 cont

All I could think about was Jehu, what he was going through. How alone he must have felt in that jail cell. As far as he knew, we were in Denver, an easy train ride to Rock Springs or Cheyenne. It had been a week or more since he’d been jailed, and we hadn’t come. I had to hope that Luke Rhodes had made better time back to the ranch, and I sure as hell knew that Stella and Joan would ride hell-for-leather to Jehu. But he would be expecting me, wanting me, waiting for me, and I was failing him. I’d never failed him before.

“We made Connolly believe Garet was dead, and we escaped from Salter and the other Pinkerton on the way to Denver. How? Garet rose from her coffin and shot those boys’ heads off before they even turned around. For sure, we hid a gun in there for her. She fainted away after, right back into her coffin. She had been half-dead, after all.

“Took Garet to a boardinghouse near the tenderloin district. Where the whorehouses were. May still be there. The district. Haven’t been back to Denver in sixty years. There’s probably still a warrant out for me.” Laughs. “They aren’t ever going to catch me. I’m the last one alive. Maybe you should write this up yourself, call it The Legend of Hattie LaCour. Won’t sell a copy, but it’d be a great story.

“Where was I? Oh yeah. Tenderloin district. We pulled up and I told Claire to go get us a room. She was on edge from seeing five people killed and no sleep, and I was on edge because of Jehu and no sleep. She snapped at me that she was tired of being bossed around like a slave. And I told her I was tired of having to spell everything out to her. The only one of us who was still levelheaded was Ruby, and she stepped in. ‘She’s a nigger and I’m a Chink. They won’t rent a room to us.’

“Claire apologized and went inside. ‘You didn’t have to call me a nigger,’ I said. Ruby asked if I wanted to fight with a half-breed about who’s talked to the worst. Weren’t no need to be fighting each other. It was hard enough dealing with the crackers all the time.

“We settled Garet in and sent for the doc. As soon as she got there and I had her word she would check on Garet, I was off. Claire tried to stop me, to guilt me into not leaving Garet, and I just had enough. I told her what we all knew but didn’t want to say, what the doc had been trying to tell us for days—Garet was on borrowed time. Jehu was alive, and it was my responsibility to save him. She could either stay in that dump and watch Garet die, or she could come with me and save a good man from humiliation.

“‘Humiliation? He’s in jail. Isn’t that practically a rite of passage for men in the West?’ I told her he was different and I didn’t have time to explain it to her. Ruby and I left, and sure enough Claire came after us. All that arguing was for nothing. We missed the last train. Left the next morning.

“Where’d we get the money? Stole it from the Pinkertons. Salter’d been flush. We might have enough to bribe the Cheyenne sheriff, but I suspected we were past that point, and we were. Too many people knew about Jehu, how he’d been helping some mysterious gang rob the Connollys. Course, there were holes all in the story. Spooner turned him in, but Spooner was the one who’d been blamed for all the robberies. Whatever, the story they cooked up was ridiculous. It was true, you say? I guess if you looked at it a certain way, it was true. But that didn’t matter. We needed to get him out.

“Why? That’s what Grace asked when we all finally got together—the three of us, Stella, Joan, and Luke Rhodes. We were all talking to each other, around her and Rhodes, to be fair. We knew Jehu’s secret hadn’t been revealed, or it would’ve surely been all over the territory. Back then, you might not hear about important news for weeks, but something personal like that would spread like wildfire.

“‘Tell me what the hell is going on! What are you talking about?’ Grace yelled. She was one of us by then, and she deserved to know. Ruby told her; Jehu was a woman pretending to be a man.

“I’d known since I met him. I’d pretended to be a man for the better part of a year, and I grew up as a slave to an actress. Worked in a theater until I was about twelve. I knew all about disguises and playacting. Jehu fooled everyone but me and, well, you can’t live with someone for years without figuring it out. Sure, everyone else knew. You’re blushing, Grace Williams. Is there something specific you want to ask me? I didn’t think so.

“Let me just tell you something. You’re young and haven’t lived a whole lot, God willing you will. It’s not easy for colored people now, I know it’s not. I’ve lived in this skin for ninety-two years and it’s never been easy. The only time I’ve ever found peace is with Jehu Lee. Man, woman, whatever idea you have about him, don’t matter a hill of beans. It wasn’t never about the sex, but let me tell you, we enjoyed it, yes we did. Love. Trust. Respect. Passion. Oh yeah, passion’s important, too. When you touch souls with someone, well, it’s a spiritual experience. I hope you have that one day. You’ll know what I mean. You’ll think of that crazy old slave you visited for a time, and remember.”