Across the Great Divide

by Michael Ross

  Hiram helped her down, and gave her forehead a quick kiss. She wished her father had been in bed—she was twenty-one, after all!

  “Until tomorrow, my beloved?” asked Hiram.

  “Until then.”

  ✳ ✳ ✳

  Will continued to drill with the Rifles. He supposed he was stubborn, but he did not like manipulation. Dr. Simpson’s offer felt like he and Jenny were trying to run Will’s life, tempting him to break his word. His father had encouraged him to join the Rifles, and even with the present tensions, had not yet told him to quit. He occasionally saw the Home Guard, with Joe and his father, drilling on another field. This gave him an odd feeling, but he knew others in the Home Guard with pro-slavery sentiments. He heard that the commander Simon Buckner was for Kentucky rather than the Union. He paid more attention to news and politics, particularly this Lincoln fellow everyone was discussing. Lincoln’s wife was one of the Todds, but she had not been back to Lexington recently.

  Will knew he was stalling, avoiding making a decision. He had not answered Dr. Simpson yet but would have to soon, to avoid being rude. After supper, Will saw his chance to talk to his father. Julia was off with Hiram. Albinia had not come home. Will suspected she was with her beau. Robert settled into a chair in the corner, mending a harness by lamplight. Will pulled up a stool next to him.

  “Pa, I got something on my mind.”

  Looking up, Robert said, “All right, Son. What is it?”

  “You remember I was invited to the Simpsons a while back?”

  “Yes, Son. Seems like Jenny’s sweet on you. Fine family, the Simpsons.”

  “Yes, sir. I like Jenny a lot too. That’s just the problem. You know I lost my job at Hobbs over the Rifles. Dr. Simpson seems favorable to a match between Jenny and me when we’re older. But he’s dead set against the Rifles. He doesn’t seem to hold a good opinion of our captain.”

  “Well, times are changing. I still hope for peace. But there may be war. People are taking sides. It may be that both of us will have to choose.”

  “But you encouraged me to join the Rifles. I have given my word of honor, my oath to the Rifles, and Captain Morgan. He’s paid for my school and been ever so kind to me. Dr. Simpson is offering me a job with a friend, learning about the law, and will still help me go to school. That might mean Jenny and I could be together. I don’t know what to do. I must decide, and soon.”

  Robert paused, brow furrowed. He shifted forward, then back, uncomfortably. “I’ve been thinkin’ and prayin’ on just that, Will. It troubles me. It isn’t just fancy drills with some guys on a field anymore—we’re training for war. Will, I really think you should quit the Rifles. Not because of Jenny—young girls can be fickle—you don’t know that you two would end up together. You do know the Rifles will not follow the Union, if it comes to war. Dr. Simpson is making you a fair offer. I based my encouragement to enter the Rifles on opportunity, the chance to live your dreams. I never had much of a head for books, or the chance to be anything but a farmer. I wanted something different for you. Things have changed. No one could predict things would get this bad. You’re young. When you joined the Rifles, you weren’t yet a man. The Bible says not to make rash promises. It’s time to be a man and make a man’s decision, looking to God. I trust He will guide you. But I don’t want to face you across a battlefield. And I’m afraid that’s where this is headed.”

  Will grew angry. He threw up his hands, stood, and glared at his father. “But haven’t you taught me to obey? Haven’t you taught me the importance of a man’s word? About following God no matter what? And now, because it’s inconvenient, and something better is offered, I’m supposed to say I didn’t mean it?” he shouted.

  “It’s dangerous to promise something to God too quickly. After you’ve thought about it, it may be too late. Is your honor worth getting killed over? Is it worth fighting your neighbors? Your friends? Your family? Proverbs 6 says if you’re snared by your mouth, ask your neighbor to free you. You could go to Morgan.” Robert’s voice held a pleading note. Will knew he didn’t have to depend on his father for a living, not with two sponsors vying for him.

  Will paced the room. “And how would that repay him? Would you not pay a debt?”

  Will got his coat and walked out into the darkness. He needed the chill to distill his thoughts. Was his father right? Was it that simple—ask and walk free? Yet did he want to be free of the Rifles? And what about honor—keeping your word. The Bible had things to say about not keeping oaths, too. He prayed. He wrestled and thought. Finally, he decided.

  ✳ ✳ ✳

  Albinia was exhausted. It was exciting helping slaves to freedom. However, late nights, the need to keep up at the dress shop, and the stress of maintaining secrecy were taking their toll. Tonight she again stayed in town. She wondered how long she could keep her family from finding out what she was doing. She knew Will was already suspicious. Katy, who provided her a bed, had gotten curious too, so that some nights she simply slept a few hours on a cot at the back of the dress shop. She let her friend think she had gone home, and her family think she had stayed with her friend in town. Her conscience pricked as she deceived people, but it was for a good cause.

  She locked the front of the shop. The owner liked to come in midmorning, so she needed not worry about that. In the rear of the shop, she cleared off an old trunk and opened the lid. Inside were costumes. She selected a patched and worn housedress, to look like a poor farm wife. She changed quickly, putting her own clothes in the trunk. Then she donned a black wig, pinning it carefully, and did her makeup to look a decade older, as David taught her. She was nearly unrecognizable. Last of all, she took a double derringer from a drawer and checked to see that it was loaded. Satisfied, she dropped it in her reticule. Making the wedding gown got her eight dollars to buy the gun. She never expected to use it, but David encouraged it.

  She exited the store by the back way. Walking out to the alley, a bearded unkempt man in a battered hat accosted her. She informed him she was not that type of woman and moved quickly away, meeting David at a saloon. According to plan, she walked in and approached a table where David, in his Irishman costume, was playing cards and drinking.

  He looked up and saw Albinia. “Ah, there ye are, mah darling! I can see me luck is changing,” said David.

  “Please, come home, David!” she said pleadingly.

  Pushing away from the table, he said, “Gentlemen, I fold. I can see there are other ways to win tonight.” He put an arm around Albinia and gently propelled her back to the street. Once there, he took her hand and led her around back to a wagon. There were two draft horses hitched to the wagon. A padlocked wooden box sat in the rear, large enough to hold two men. He helped her into the wagon, mounted, and began to drive.

  “Where to this night?” she asked.

  “A rather long trek, I’m afraid. A farm on Harrodsburg Road out almost to Centerville. We may not be back in town before dawn. And much more risk of patrols. Our story is that I’m getting pumpkins, delivering you and them to my cousin. His wife is having a baby, and you’re going to help her.”

  “All right. How many people?”

  “Just one tonight, I’m told. I apologize for the familiarity back there, it just seemed necessary to avoid suspicion.”

  “You don’t have to apologize. I don’t mind.”

  “You don’t?”

  “No. I enjoy our excursions, and spending time with you, besides helping the slaves.”

  “I do too. I was hoping you might feel that way, but did not want to assume. I ... I have some bad news. I must go away soon. I’ve been offered an opportunity to help Mr. Garrison up north. Mr. Clay is releasing me. When I go, you would be on your own. I understand if you would rather not. A woman alone at night with the patrols would be too dangerous. You would have to find a way to do it in the daytime. With your job at the shop, I do not know how you would manage. Mabel and Franklin may be able to help, but….”

  Albinia bi
t her lip, missing him already, but still determined to help. “No! I can manage. I will just sew and sleep at night, go home more. It would actually relieve some pressure. I think my siblings are getting suspicious. I told Will I have a secret beau.”

  “And do you?” He seemed to stop, as if he wanted to take her hand. She could tell there was more than casual interest in the question. His eyes held hers intensely.

  “Well, sort of. I mean, we’ve spent a lot of time alone together, more than usual for a couple not formally courting.” There, she had said it. She was frightened of what he might think, yet she longed to hear that he felt the same.

  “Given what you’ve told me of your father, I hardly think he would approve.”

  Albinia laughed, breaking the tension. “You are absolutely right there.”

  He held the reins one handed, and reached for her hand.

  “I’ve never met a woman like you. Sometimes I cannot decide if you are reckless or brave. I admire you all the same.”

  Her heart thrilled to his touch, and she felt the heat in her face. Changing the subject, she said, “How ... how long will you be gone?”

  He snapped the reins to move the horses faster. “I honestly don’t know. Mr. Garrison is much under attack here, and in the North. He is speaking in many cities. If war breaks out, I could be stuck there, to be candid.”

  “Oh,” she said, greatly disappointed, withdrawing her hand. “Then I suppose there’s no point….”

  “Don’t say that! Let me ask you this—if I were to send you a train ticket, would you come?”

  “You mean…?”

  “Yes, exactly. If I’m not able to come back, I want you to know—I want to marry you. I’ve tried to be proper, but, well—the situation just doesn’t follow the usual rules.”

  She grabbed his arm and put her head on his shoulder. “Oh, yes! Yes, David, with all my heart. I hope my father will understand someday, but whether he does or not, I want to be with you.”

  They pulled up to a barn. David stopped the horses and turned to Albinia. She looked up at him adoringly. She thought he was going to kiss her. He leaned toward her, their lips almost touching.

  She jumped as the lights went on in the house and a dog charged the wagon, barking. David turned and leaped down, waiting tensely to see who was coming. A lantern moved out from the house. Albinia heard a cranky voice saying, “Who in tarnation come visiting this time of night?” A man came toward them with a shotgun in one hand and lantern in the other.

  David immediately slipped into his Irish brogue. “Ah, well, an’ it’s just a poor wee Irishman and his lady come to collect midnight pumpkins and squash. Verra delicate, these pumpkins. Don’t like the sun.”

  “All right, then,” said the man, lowering the shotgun. “I think you’ll find what you’re looking for in the barn, third stall on the left, under the hay. Knock on the stall three times if you don’t want a pumpkin to fall on your head.”

  David and Albinia opened the barn. David drove the team and wagon inside, shutting the door. He went and knocked on the stall, then lit a lamp. Out came the “pumpkins”—a Negro man about forty years of age, with some grizzled gray hair, and a Negro woman, with light yellow brown skin, almost white, about thirty years old.

  David climbed up into the wagon and unlocked the padlock on the box, opening it. “Come,” he said. “I’m afraid you’ll both have to squeeze in.”

  Albinia saw the man flash a smile, but the woman looked more doubtful. She moved toward her. “Don’t worry,” said Albinia. “It will be all right. We’ve done this before.”

  The man chuckled and climbed into the bottom of the box. “Lawd have mercy! We done worse dan dis on de plantation just for not getting’ Massa his supper fast enough. We be fine.”

  The woman gingerly climbed in after him. Albinia heard her mutter something about escaping being as bad as punishment. When they settled, David relocked the box and quickly loaded pumpkins and squash from the stall into the wagon, some on top of the box. He climbed back into the driver’s seat, motioned Albinia to open the door, and put out the lamp. Once outside, he jumped down and helped Albinia into the wagon, holding her hand, and giving her cheek a quick peck as she got in. She thought it held a promise of more for later.

  Soon they were off down the road. The moon was setting, and soon it would be pitch dark, as they intended. She observed that he kept the big Belgians moving at a trot, since the load was light for them, and speed was important. Albinia pulled the blanket and muffler around her as the cold night breeze hit them. She snuggled closer to David as well, who looked at her with a quick smile. She noticed he did not head on a route directly through Lexington, but circled west some to avoid the center of town. If they kept this pace, they would make it back to Lexington before dawn. When they were north of town on the road toward Russell Cave, they heard hoofbeats off to the right and then ahead, just as they crossed a bridge.

  “A patrol,” David said tensely. “Remember, on this side of town, we’re delivering pumpkins and squash. I’ll be a drunk farmer. But be ready for anything.”

  Six horsemen came out of the night, one bearing a torch. They spread across the road in front of the wagon.

  “What are you two doing? Early for market, isn’t it?” asked the lead horseman roughly. The torch showed a black scruffy beard and long coat, a pistol glinting in the light on his belt.

  “Aye, if to market we were going. I’ve a cousin up Centerville way. He’s in need of our pumpkins and squash. His wife is delivering a bairn, and needs the midwife, if it’s any business of yours,” said David in his Irish brogue.

  “When we’re on patrol, everything is our business,” laughed one nastily. He dismounted, handing the reins to a companion, and moved toward the wagon. David and Albinia turned to watch him. He lowered the gate on the back of the wagon and started to climb in.

  “And what might ye be doin’?” David inquired. “We’re not taking passengers.”

  “That’s what I’d like to make sure of. Seems you’re carrying more than squash back here. What’s in the box?”

  “Just a few family heirlooms I’m takin’ to my cousin. Now if ye’ll get out of me wagon, I’ll be on me way!”

  “I think we’ll have a look inside the box, if you don’t mind,” said the one with the torch.

  “By all the saints, I do mind! Ye ruffians and scoundrels! For all I know, ye’re a pack o’ thieves, out to steal me grandsire’s silver. Now get down, I say!”

  “Ruffians and thieves are we, eh?” said the one in the wagon. “If you take that tone, maybe we’ll just have a little fun with the woman here.” He reached for Albinia.

  Flashing in the torchlight, David pulled a Bowie knife and slashed at the hand reaching for her. She was terrified and fumbled for the derringer. The man howled in pain from a gash across his palm. Another leaped down and grabbed the lines to the Belgians. Albinia saw David try to urge the horses forward, but the torch waved in front of them terrified them. A man approached from David’s side to drag him off the driver’s box, but David reached under the box and brought out a Navy Colt, firing and hitting the man in the shoulder. Albinia harnessed her fear and determinedly took aim at the one with the torch. Her shot hit his leg, then the horse. The horse spun in terror, and the torch dropped, making the other horses rear and spin. Another man reached from the side for Albinia, swinging a fist at her. She heard a shot, and something hit the side of her head. She knew nothing more.

  ✳ ✳ ✳

  When Albinia woke, she felt a dull throb on the side of her head. She felt disoriented, not knowing where she was. Slowly, she focused. David’s anxious face was above her. She was lying on her cot, in the rear of the dress shop. She tried to sit up, but David gently pressed her shoulder down.

  “Don’t try too much yet. You’ve had a nasty bump on the head. I’ll tell Dr. Simpson you slipped and fell on the ice. I’ve let your shop owner know. When you’re up to it, Dr. Simpson will take you home. I must go s
oon, to avoid suspicion.”

  “Did they…?”

  “Our passengers are fine. Thanks to you. Your quick thinking and using the derringer made possible our escape. But this points out why you must never try this at night on your own. Once I leave to go north, you must only work in daytime, and only when it’s really safe. Mabel and Franklin can help some, but they are far south enough that making all the deliveries may not work.”

  “No! I can do it. I want to do it.”

  “There’s my brave girl!” David bent and kissed her forehead, and she winced. “Oh, sorry. Didn’t mean to hurt you.”

  She managed a smile, “No, it’s all right. And I’ll be fine. Go ahead, go, before someone comes in. I’ll just rest a little, then get up and take customers until Dr. Simpson comes. And David ... I love you!”

  ✳ ✳ ✳

  Will sat down to write. His heart was heavy. He had waited so long to respond to Dr. Simpson’s offer, he felt they might be insulted. He’d barely spoken to Jenny for almost two weeks, and she had not approached him. Christmas was only two weeks away.

  December 11, 1859

  Dear Miss Morton,

  He crumpled the paper and began again—Jenny wasn’t concerned about being proper with him, and it didn’t convey what he felt.

  Dear Jenny,

  I have been meaning to talk to you for some time now. I hope you will not think me a coward for writing rather than speaking to you in person. My intent is for both of us to think carefully before speaking things that cannot be unsaid.

  I have considered carefully your uncle’s generous offer, and I will speak to him directly today at church. As much as I admire your uncle, and am thankful he would even consider sponsoring me in such a manner, I cannot accept. This has been a difficult decision for me. I know in my soul that this must be the decision. I cannot go back on my word to Captain Morgan. If I were to do that, I would not be the man to whom you have generously given your affections. I think that if I am not honest, for the sake of gain, then I am not a man at all.