by Michael Ross
“Now, Jenny, dear,” Mrs. Simpson reproved. “Will must do as he thinks best. It’s not for us to say. And certainly not fitting for young ladies to speak of such matters.” Turning to the waiting servant, she said, “Susan, you may serve dessert.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Jenny was silent, but her face again looked like she was holding back a flood of thought.
Dr. Simpson said, “You must excuse Jenny. She is impetuous and too informal. Still, what she says has some merit, even if said out of turn. The time approaches when all men will have to choose whether to support their state or the United States. It is not an easy question. Your loyalty to Mr. Morgan is understandable. Yet your loyalty may be misplaced. Mr. Morgan has many admirable qualities—but he is also a gambler, a philanderer, and a slave owner. In fact, there are rumors that he is the father of one of his slaves, while his wife lies ill. I say this not to gossip, but to have you fully consider the character of the man you follow, perhaps into peril. I might add that I have seen your growing affection for my niece. While you are both yet too young, eventually I could look with favor on a suit by a young man of your quality, provided he chose his course wisely. Will you consider my offer?”
Will felt torn in two. His affection for Jenny, the obvious potential of the opportunity warred with his loyalty to Morgan. “Sir, I should give this some thought and prayer, talk with my parents and Captain Morgan. I don’t feel I can answer right away.”
Jenny’s head dropped with a large sigh, her mouth drooping in a frown, holding back tears. When she looked up, the hurt in her eyes cut him to the heart.
“Of course, I understand,” said the doctor. “Take what time you need. Let us hope that events do not move too quickly for that decision.”
Will rose, and Susan escorted him out. Just as he was closing the garden gate on the street, he turned and saw Jenny.
“Will. I know I’m not always the proper young lady. I’m headstrong and speak my mind. I don’t always wait on others. I’m trying to learn. I shouldn’t be out here, I know. It’s not proper. Uncle and Auntie have been good to me and tried to teach me. I know I’m too young. But I just can’t stand it anymore. I have to know, Will. Do you care for me? Really care?”
Will looked in her eyes and clasped her outstretched hands. “Yes, Jenny, I do. But you must understand I honor my word. I cannot promise without thought and prayer. I have my family to think of. How will my father manage without me on the farm? There’s more to this than just you and me.”
“But if you stay with the Rifles, then we’ll never be together. My uncle is joining the home guard, as a doctor. He expects to side with the Union.”
“I … I just don’t know, Jenny.”
Jenny turned, and ran crying into the house.
✳ ✳ ✳
The next few weeks passed slowly for Will. He continued his schoolwork and drilled with the Rifles. He considered talking to Captain Morgan, but knew he needed to talk to his father. He didn’t see Jenny or Dr. Simpson. He felt stuck and wanted to avoid the problems, yet knew they would not go away. He saw two men shouting and shoving on the street, arguing over slavery. Southern states threatened to secede if a Republican candidate won the next year’s presidential election. More people were taking sides. Will knew his father still thought neutrality was best. Will just wanted life the way it had always been.
As drill was finishing with the Rifles one day, Captain Morgan came to address them.
“Men, you should be proud. I know some would call those among you yet boys, but you are drilling and behaving like men. I am proud to lead such a force. The time is coming when we will be tested. We’ve put on exhibitions and learned the tools of fighting. Soon, we may have to use those tools in battle to defend our homes, our families, and our state. The Yankees want to destroy our economy. They want to impose tyranny, to deprive us of the things our forefathers fought for less than a hundred years ago in the Revolutionary War against Britain. They want to tell us that the Negro is the equal of a white man, though their own Constitution says otherwise. We know they bear the mark of Cain. The state of Kentucky willingly joined a union of states, but not to have the will of Washington imposed upon us. We should have the right to chart our own destiny, even to leave the United States if we so vote. We will fight for our homes. We will not let them take our guns, our slaves, or our land. Your loyalty will be tested. Even families may split on these issues. Are you with me?”
Cheers and shouts of “Yes!” resounded all over the field. Will was caught up in the enthusiasm and yelled his assent. He walked to the livery, got the wagon and the oxen, and drove to the dress shop to pick up Albinia. As he pulled up to the door and set the brake, a young man left the shop. That seemed odd to Will. He made up his mind to talk to Albinia about the strange way she had been behaving. She came out of the shop, locked the door.
“Evening, Will,” she said, allowing him to help her into the wagon.
“Evening, Binia. Who was that?”
“Who?”
“The young man that just left the shop. Not too many men customers, I imagine.”
“Oh, him. Just wants a party dress for his wife. Thinks I can make it from his hand measurements.” She held her hands out to show the size of a waist. “I told him to send his wife’s maid with an old dress of hers that fits, if it is supposed to be a surprise.”
“Hmm,” said Will, accepting it. “Been meaning to talk to you. But you haven’t been coming home in the evening too much lately.”
“The shop has been very busy,” said Albinia evasively.
“Maybe. But some things don’t add up, and I wanted to talk to you before mentioning them to Pa.”
Albinia looked fearful and defensive. “Such as?”
“Such as I talked to the livery man about that time when I first got sick a while back. He says he never changed a shoe on the oxen. So why did you say he had? And another thing, a while back I saw you riding in a coach, headed out of town. You’ve been acting strange—distracted, forgetful, like you’re in another world. Julia’s seen it too. I would not be surprised if Ma starts on it with you soon. You got a secret beau or something? You know Pa won’t like that.”
“I would appreciate it if you didn’t mention it to Pa. Yes, all right, if you must know, I do have beau. However, I do not know where the relationship is going. I am not ready for Pa to pass judgement. I will be seventeen in just a couple of weeks. Some girls are already married at my age. I think I should have the right to make up my own mind before getting Pa into it.”
“Is he respectable?”
“Of course he is!”
“Do I know him?”
“I’d rather not say. Please, Will, just trust me on this. It is important. I ... I’ll try to be more helpful and present when I’m home. But there are going to be times I need to stay in town. More than in the past. I may be visiting Lucy more too. My wages from the shop help keep the family afloat, you know. Like when there’s a poor harvest. I’m not a child.”
“All right, Binia. I won’t say anything yet. But if this beau of yours is around by Christmas, you’d best talk to Pa about him.”
She smiled at Will warmly and gave him a half arm hug on the wagon seat. “Thank you! You have no idea how much that means to me. I promise if he’s still around at Christmas, I’ll talk to Pa.”
✳ ✳ ✳
Darkness. Seemingly unending. Luther knew they had been here in this hole far too long. He had risked sneaking out at night, with Jemima’s help, refilling their water bucket, dumping their chamber pot, and even setting a few snares for rabbits. Albinia had told them to wait. They must move soon or starve. What had happened? The moon would be a thin sliver.
Jemima motioned for Luther to listen. They were all silent. Faintly they heard a voice, singing. Then a tramping sound like boots penetrated the earth. Then more singing, clearer now.
Steal away, steal away, steal away to Jesus
Steal away, steal away home I a
in’t got long to stay here….
The man’s voice rang out in the night. Then Luther heard five thumps overhead. Luther whispered to Jemima, “Let’s see.” He clutched the knife. They climbed the steps and slowly pushed upward on the platform. Peeking out, the dim beam of a hurricane lamp shined where the voice came from. Gathering courage, he and Jemima pushed hard up on the platform to open it fully.
“Over here,” he said softly.
The light came closer, revealing the form of a young black man not much older than Luther.
“Come on,” said the voice. “We ain’t got much time.”
Luther, Olivia, Jemima, and Clara all followed the young man. When they had gone a short way, still covered by trees, they saw another man in the shadows. In front of him were four new wooden coffins, lids open, empty.
“Get in,” said the voice.
“What? You cain’t expect us to…,” protested Luther.
“Get in!” interrupted the voice. “Get in or run, your choice. The patrol will be along in about fifteen minutes. You might just end up in them anyway.”
Trembling, each of them lay down in the coffin that was their size. The two men acted quickly, closing the lids, nailing them shut. He tried to control the claustrophobic panic. Then Luther felt himself lifted, carried, jolting along a path, and set on some solid surface. He guessed it was a wagon. Then he heard what sounded like the other coffins loaded into the wagon and Clara crying softly. He heard Jemima speak, “Hush, child! We need to be quiet, like we’re dead.”
“That’s right,” said the voice. “Don’t be afraid. You’re gonna steal away, north to freedom. If we’re stopped, you must be dead. If they open the coffins, don’t breathe. Do not move or talk, or make any noise at all. Keep your eyes shut. We’ll tell you when it’s safe.”
Luther heard the driver cluck to the horses, and then the wagon began to move, jolting and bumping down the road.
CHRISTMAS ROMANCE
December 1859
Albinia worked on a wedding dress with a difficult chiffon overlay. She just could not seem to get the gather in the back right, ripping it out for the third time. She heard the bell at the front of the shop and sighed in frustration at the interruption. She put on her pleasant face for dealing with customers, and came to the front counter. She was surprised to see not a woman but Joe Breckinridge. He was dressed unusually fine for a weekday, carrying a bouquet of pink Christmas roses. She could not imagine what he was doing or why he had come. She smiled inwardly at his seeming discomfort. Nevertheless, she went forward and greeted him warmly.
“Hello, Mr. Breckinridge. What a surprise! What brings you here? A dress for your mother?”
“No, no. And please call me Joe, as you did before. These are for you,” he said, thrusting the flowers at her. “I haven’t seen you much at church lately, so I thought I’d come to the shop. I ... I ... well, there’s the box social at the assembly hall on Sunday, and I wondered if you’d be there. I saw your pa at church. He laughed and said it seemed like all his ladies were in bloom, but he said it would be all right if I asked you.”
Stalling, as she tried to think what to say, Albinia took the flowers. “How very pretty! Wherever did you find them this time of year? Let me get them in some water. I’ll be right back.” Albinia went back to the rear of the building to get a glass and some water from a bucket in the corner. As she walked, her brain went in a whirl. What should she tell him? Yet she had told Will she had a secret beau, and would tell her father by Christmas. She needed a cover for her slave activities. Joe was her age. Could he be the excuse she needed? It was just a social. Saving lives was important, too. She walked back to the front where Joe was waiting, smiling at him.
“There! They will do nicely in this. It was very sweet of you to bring them. I do not see how I could turn down such a gentlemanly gesture. Of course, I must speak to my father about anything further. However, I am beholden to you in that … that other matter a few weeks back. It would be fun to get to know you better, Joe.”
Joe’s relieved and excited grin made her feel guilty. “Thanks—Albinia! May I call you that? I’ll be counting the days until Sunday!”
✳ ✳ ✳
Julia fussed and primped at the mirror.
“May I help?” Sara asked.
“Would you? I want to look nice for Hiram as much as I can.”
“Gladly—let me! Your dress is lovely. We just need to fix your hair, and maybe a little homemade blush I made last summer, with the hibiscus and beets.”
A few minutes later, Hiram’s carriage drew up. Julia pinched her cheeks, almost ruining the effect of the blush, and hurried out to meet him. She was so nervous her brain went in five directions at once. This was to be their first real outing together, as a courting couple.
“Julia!” Hiram beamed. “I’ve been counting the hours, looking forward to our outing.” He quickly hugged her, then lifted her as if she were a feather into the carriage. It was about fifty degrees, and sunny, so he had the carriage top down. The matched Morgan horses stood quietly. Hiram situated Julia with a lap robe and a foot-warming stove, and they were off!
“Hiram?” Julia hesitated ... she was getting used to using his first name, but it still seemed strange. “I ... I just want you to know—I’m going to try my best to be a good wife and companion for you. But I’m really nervous! I don’t feel like I know you that well, and I’m so afraid of doing or saying the wrong thing. I’m flattered, but I still don’t understand why you chose me.”
Hiram chuckled, then grew serious. “Don’t you know? That’s one of the things I love about you—you’re beautiful and don’t even know it. And I see a lot of strength in you, but not, how do you say… selfish?”
“Strength? How?”
“Like that time last week I saw you in town—the butcher tried to cheat you and gave you a bad cut of meat—but you spoke up, politely, and let him know you were no one’s fool. And that time at the dance….”
“Don’t remind me!”
“All right—but you showed strength and dignity—you didn’t let a little embarrassment overcome you. Some women would have made it worse crying, screaming, blaming someone else. You didn’t. And even though you were in pain, you didn’t complain.”
They drove on in silence for a while, stopping occasionally to admire the scenery. Hiram began singing comical Swedish folk songs, acting them out while at their stops. Even though Julia didn’t understand the words, his antics left her holding her sides in laughter. About two miles later, Hiram turned off the main Versailles road onto a side road.
“I’m sorry this is bumpy, but there’s something I want you to see.”
They stopped, but Julia couldn’t see anything remarkable, only trees. Hiram got down, coming around to her side of the carriage.
“What is it, Hiram? I only see forest.”
“Just come, you’ll see,” he said, helping her down.
When she was down, he took a thin strip of cloth and tied it around her head over her eyes.
“Now I can’t see anything!” she protested. “What’s going on?” He took her hand and led her forward. “Just come … trust me.”
Julia felt uncomfortable but very curious. She followed, stumbling, but Hiram’s strong arm was always there. He guided her with his hand, and the other hand in the small of her back, occasionally telling her to look out for a rock or a branch. It seemed they were walking on a path.
After a few minutes, Hiram brought her to a stop and turned her to the left. He removed the blindfold and Julia gasped. In front of them was the most beautiful sunset she had ever seen, over a small lake. Pinks, golds, purples flaming everywhere in the sky, clouds like soft feathers spread out across the expanse of blue, with the water quietly lapping at the pebbled shoreline. Ducks bobbed on the lake nearby, and as she watched, a fish jumped above the water after an insect. Just down the shoreline was a little cabin, but not the rude sort that she and her family lived in—this was handsomely built
, with all glass windows and sawn lumber. In front of the cabin was a table, all laid out with food, candles, and a roaring campfire for warmth. She turned back to Hiram.
“How did you…?” she started to say, and then saw he was down on one knee.
“I want to do this right, after the way of your country,” he said. “Miss Julia Crump, will you marry me?” he said, holding out a gold ring with a large blue sapphire and diamonds on each side. “I want it to be because you want, not because our parents say. I will always love and protect you. If God allows, I will always come back to you.”
Julia was stunned. They had already promised to court, but this was beyond her wildest dreams. “Yes ... yes, Hiram, I will.”
He put the ring on her finger and gave her his arm, escorting her to the log table, helping her into her seat. They had wine, fish, and duck, everything prepared to perfection. She couldn’t imagine how he could have arranged it all. They talked and laughed. Hiram told her of his boyhood, his father, and his family in Sweden. He told her about starting as a cabin boy, mopping decks and cleaning staterooms, in his father’s steamboat business. Julia told him about her dreams of traveling, and her sorrow at the loss of her brother, the one between Will and Lydia.
The stars began to come out. Hiram took a whistle from his pocket and blew on it. Two white servants came from the cabin and began to clear everything away. So that’s how he’d done it!
Hiram helped her back to the carriage and lit the lanterns. The servants drove another small wagon—Julia noticed they were armed. Hiram began singing hymns on the way home in the moonlight, English hymns like “Rock of Ages” that she knew, and she joined in. It was late when they arrived back at the Crump homestead. Her father was standing in the dooryard with a lantern, as though trying to decide whether to come after her—but Julia saw him relax at the sight of her smiles.
