He looked grave. “I know, but there’s news, and we need to talk.”
The seriousness of his tone sent a shiver through her petite frame. “Very well. Let me tell the others where I’m going, and I’ll join you.”
Mary was the first person Ella spotted. She joined her friend as she set up to practice her act. “I need to leave for a short time,” Ella told her. “My brother has come, and there’s something he wants to discuss.”
The look on Mary’s face reminded Ella of how intricately they were connected. “Do you suppose it has to do with August?”
“I don’t know. Perhaps. If it does, you know I’ll tell you as soon as I get back.”
Mary hugged her arms to her body. “It’s just been so long, and I fear we’ll never get justice for him.”
Ella gave her a brief hug. “Try not to fret. Robert has been faithful in working toward answers. I know he won’t forsake the matter.”
The sharpshooter nodded. “I’ll look forward to hearing what you learn, and if anyone asks after you, I’ll tell them you had something to tend to.”
Ella rejoined her brother, and his serious expression had not changed. She was almost afraid to know the truth he bore. What if it was more than she could stand? What if something had happened to their mother or even to Father? It was true he’d hurt her deeply by trying to force the marriage between her and Jefferson, but she still loved him. Fear coursed through her, causing her to tremble.
“You’re not alone,” a voice seemed to whisper deep within.
She glanced heavenward. Help me, Lord. Help me bear whatever Robert has to say.
“Where can we talk privately?” Robert asked.
“The train car would be best for complete privacy.”
They made their way to the train cars, which had been left on a siding at the fairgrounds. Ella mounted the steps to her car and checked the berths to make sure no one else was inside. “Everyone is busy since we just arrived. We should have all the privacy we need.”
She motioned for him to take a seat at the table where she and the other girls often talked or played games. She sat across from him and folded her hands, drawing in a deep breath to steady her nerves.
“Tell me everything,” she said.
Robert shook his head. “It’s so preposterous, I can scarcely believe it.”
“You have found the truth?”
“I have. But Father doesn’t realize it, and once he does, my own life may not be worth much to the folks back home.”
She frowned, her anxiety rising. “What in the world is going on?”
He swallowed. “Father and Jefferson Spiby are in the business of selling humans—not a new breed of horses.”
“What?” His words made no sense.
“Remember how Mara said Father demanded she sign papers?”
Ella nodded. “A contract for her room and board.”
“No. A contract for her life is more to the point. To explain, I’ll have to go all the way back to the War Between the States.” It was stuffy in the train car, so Robert unbuttoned his coat and put it on the chair beside him. “It seems that after the war, our grandfather, Father, and Jefferson Spiby and his father formed a pact. There were a great many slaves held between the two families, and losing them would ruin the horse farm and the Spibys’ plantation. The slaves were obviously determined to leave, so the men of our family and the Spibys decided they had to do something to keep them. They called the former slaves together and told them they were indeed free, but that everything they wore or used in their small homes belonged to the Flemings and Spibys. They could purchase these things if they wanted, or work for them.”
“How awful. Of course they couldn’t leave without clothes to wear and food to sustain them on the road.”
“Exactly. The people were trapped, forced to sign papers that bound them to work for the various things they needed. Of course, they had to have housing and food while they worked, and that was an additional charge. Our grandfather was shrewd. He knew exactly how much to charge to keep his workers from ever being able to pay off their debts.”
“But how did that involve anyone else? How is it still happening today? Grief, Robert, it’s 1902.”
“And have you ever studied the conditions and plight of former slaves? They were set free into complete poverty. A few aid societies offered help, but most were in the North, and it was nearly impossible for southern slaves to get to them. Few jobs were available to them, because while the Emancipation had been signed, little regard was given to how to help the freed slaves afterward. Most couldn’t read or write, and few had any sort of education. Such things were illegal in most of the South.”
“I remember. I used to sneak lessons to Mara. Father never knew, but I always supposed he’d punish me if he found out.”
“I’m certain he would have. Knowledge is power, and he didn’t want any of his slaves having that. Anyway, a great many people talked big about wanting freedom for all mankind—but there were suddenly hundreds of thousands of people who needed work and no one to offer them jobs. With the exception of our farm and the Spibys’. Word got around that they were sympathetic and would hire on. Of course, those working at the farms were forbidden to tell the truth—that this was just slavery by a different name. Over the years, a great many former slaves made their way to the Spibys’ plantation or to our farm, where our father agreed to sign them on. They started there, but soon enough it would be announced that their contracts were being sold to other farmers elsewhere. When protests arose, Grandfather or Father would point out that each person was free to buy out their contract and go on their way if they didn’t like it.”
“But no one could possibly pay.” Ella could see the trap quite clearly.
“Exactly. They were never given money. They were forced to work nearly every day with very little time to themselves. They had very few options to earn money on the side, mostly because they weren’t allowed to go into town except for church, and even that was done in such a fashion that it cost them. If they didn’t walk, the cost of wagon rides was added to their lists of expenditures.”
“But how did people know they could come and buy the contracts?” Ella was sickened by the entire matter, but she wanted to know it all.
“Grandfather used the horse farm to generate business. There were always men coming to buy stock, and word got around. Local authorities who figured out what was going on turned a blind eye for extra money in their pockets, but few people know exactly what’s happening. Our grandfather and Father had excellent reputations in the community, as did the Spibys. No one was going to question what they were doing, and those who did faced either wrath or bribery.”
“But I don’t understand how it worked. Did buyers just agree to purchase these workers sight unseen? They could hardly have a slave auction.”
“But they did. They advertised them as private stock sales. Men would come supposedly to see horses, and instead workers were paraded around the showroom.”
“How could that be legal?”
“It’s not. And that’s why I’m here today. I can’t let this go on, Ella. I can’t stand back and allow a slave trade. Even if Father and Spiby could somehow find their way around the legalities, it’s morally and ethically wrong. As you said, it’s 1902, and slavery is a thing of the past—or should be.”
It felt like Jefferson’s hands were once again around her throat. Ella could scarcely draw breath. “This is what got August Reichert killed.” Her voice was barely audible.
“Yes. I believe so. I imagine he happened into the showroom as Father and Jefferson were parading workers and accepting bids.”
“Oh, how terrible.” She buried her face in her hands.
“Ella, listen to me. You must understand the full implications here.”
She raised her head. “I think it’s clear. Father has broken the law, and if it’s found out—he’ll go to jail.”
“It’s possible no one will say or do anything, b
ut there are people out there who actively support the cause of bettering the plight of the Negro. There might well be a lawyer or minister who holds great sway with the public—someone who has the newspapers’ ears. And depending on who wants to take on this matter, Father might well suffer a great deal.” Robert reached out and took her hand. “I don’t know what will happen, to tell you the truth, but I do know that I can’t stand by and do nothing. I have good friends in Washington, D.C., and feel if I get their help in the matter, it will definitely put an end to what’s been happening all these years. But it will forever destroy our family.”
She hadn’t thought of that. She could well imagine their mother and father wanting nothing more to do with Robert. She already felt the weight of their disapproval and rejection. What in the world would that do to Robert, the only son and heir?
“I’m so sorry, Robert. I hadn’t even considered how this would affect you and your family.”
He shook his head, all the while holding her gaze. “I’m not even sure I’d have a family left to me.”
“You should secrete some money away before you go to the authorities. Perhaps speak with our sister as well.”
“I’ve already considered that.” He stiffened at the sound of voices outside the train car. Whoever it was passed by, however. “I believe I’ll be fine financially. My assets and affairs have been separate from Father’s for years. I just don’t know what this will do to Virginia and the boys. My wife is a Southerner through and through. There may be a great deal of hatred and trouble to bear, and I’m not sure she’s up to the ordeal. We just learned she’s expecting again. She struggled last time, and something like this might cause her to miscarry.”
Ella smiled. “Congratulations. Despite the troubled times, that’s very good news.”
“It would be better if I knew what to expect once the authorities learn the truth. It could go either way. Someone might want to make an example of Father and Jefferson. If they can get the newspapers to stir up a frenzy about it, then the entire country will know soon enough.”
“And shouldn’t they?” She bit her lower lip. She didn’t know which was more troubling—the thought of the country hating her father and family, or losing their home and possibly causing Virginia to lose her baby. Or that no one would care enough to punish her father and Jefferson for the lives they had stolen.
“One thing I know, Robert.” She squeezed his hand. “We must pray. We must pray a great deal.”
eleven
Ella carefully explained everything to Mara later that night as the two women sat huddled together in Ella’s room. Neither seemed able to speak for several long minutes after Ella finished relating what Robert had told her. It was almost impossible to imagine all that her grandfather and father had done. The very thought of their cruelty sickened Ella. She thought of all the workers she had known on the farm. Most said very little. They worked hard and kept to themselves, and now Ella understood why.
“I’m just so sorry, Mara. So sorry for what happened—for what it meant for your mother and the others before you. I can’t believe anyone could be so heartless. I always thought Father was a fair man, a good Christian. Now I realize what a monster he truly is. I hate him!”
“Don’t be hatin’, Miss Ella. Ain’t nothing good ever come out of hate.”
“How can I not hate him? How can you not? What he and Jefferson did was evil.”
“Yes’m, I believe that too, but hate will just cripple you up inside, and it won’t change what’s happened. It won’t make wrong things right.”
Ella pulled a shawl around her nightgown. The evening had cooled considerably after a thunderstorm rumbled through around dinnertime. But she didn’t think it was the weather that chilled her. Fear and confusion left her feeling ill.
“I can’t bear thinking of Daddy cheating people that way.” She wiped away tears. “It’s just too horrible.”
“He was wrongly taught,” Mara countered. “Folks get trained up to think somethin’ is right when it’s wrong and other things be wrong when in truth they’re right. It don’t mean they can’t learn the truth. Maybe your papa will finally be learnin’ a better way.”
“How could he not already know it? He knew it was wrong, or he wouldn’t have been so secretive about it.” Ella pulled her knees close and hugged them to her chest. “I’ll try not to hate him, but this is more horrible than anything I could have imagined. My entire life there was based on lies and deceit. It hurts more than I can say. How can you even bear to be with me?”
Mara surprised her by chuckling. “You ain’t done nothin’ but love me since we were children. You ain’t like most white women. You don’t see the color of my skin. You look on deeper to my heart. And I know your heart. That’s why I can bear bein’ with you. You got a good heart and nobody can convince me otherwise.”
“But my father—”
“You ain’t your father, Ella.” Mara fixed her with a stern gaze. “Your father will account for his own sins same as every man. If’n he turns to Jesus, he’ll be forgiven, and if not, then he’ll suffer for it. Only God has the right to judge him.”
Ella scooted closer so she could hug Mara. “You always did know what to say to make me feel better. Thank you for being such a godly woman. You are dearer to me than my own sister.”
“What happened?” Oliver asked in the midst of the chaotic crowd.
“Carson is hurt. Bad,” one of the young wranglers announced. “He was on the ladder to help hoist the banner and fell. He’s bleeding from his head something fierce, and a minute ago he said his back felt broken.”
Moans and groans filled the air along with Alice Hopkins’ inconsolable sobs. Ella tried to comfort Alice, but she was far too upset. One of the wranglers had taken off his kerchief and was trying to put pressure on the wound at the back of Carson’s head. Carson was barely conscious.
“Has anyone sent for the doctor?” Oliver asked.
“Yes, sir. We did that first thing.”
“My back,” Carson moaned. “Help me.”
Oliver pushed through to get a better look at him. “Carson, try not to move. You won’t do yourself any good if you thrash about.”
Lizzy joined them. She assessed the situation, then went to where Alice knelt beside her husband. She looked at Ella. “What happened?”
Ella shook her head. “It was terrible. He was high up on the ladder and just seemed to lose his grip. He fell from the top.”
“That’s nearly twenty feet,” Lizzy gasped, then put her hand over her mouth as if she’d said too much.
Most of the troupe had gathered in the arena, including Mara, who stood beside Ella. It seemed to take forever, but finally the doctor arrived with an ambulance.
“I’m Dr. Obermeyer. Let me through. Give me room to work,” the older man said, pushing aside members of the troupe. “What happened here?”
“He fell from atop the ladder,” Oliver told him.
The doctor did a quick evaluation, then stood. He motioned for two men to bring a stretcher forward. “Everyone out of the way. We need to get this man to the hospital immediately. His vital signs are not good.” He looked around. “Does this man have a wife or family here?”
“This is his wife,” Lizzy said, putting her arm around Alice’s shoulders.
The doctor looked at Alice as if assessing her ability to hear the truth. “You’d best follow us. Your husband’s condition is failing.”
Alice began to wail, and Lizzy took her in hand. “Come on, Alice. We’ll get you to the hospital. I’ll stay with you.”
“Oh, Lizzy. Don’t let him die.”
“Of course not.” Lizzy threw a glance Ella’s way. “Can you help Uncle Oliver keep everyone on track for the show?”
“Yes, I’ll do whatever I can.” Ella knew what was expected of the trick and Roman riders but was clueless when it came to the others. “What about the sharpshooters? Should I tell Mary what’s happened?”
“Yes, she needs to
know that Alice won’t be able to perform. She can plan accordingly.”
“I’ll find her and let her know.”
As the ambulance left and the crowd began to disperse, Ella looked down at the large puddle of blood and shivered. Someone needed to clean that up. She saw one of the young men who helped with the horses and motioned him over.
“Yes, Miss Ella?” he asked.
He couldn’t have been much more than eighteen. He looked so young and innocent. Would cleaning up another man’s blood bother him? She felt unable to give the order.
Henry Adler entered the arena from the other side with two black men following him. One man was tall with a powerful build. His broad shoulders and arms suggested he worked hard for a living. The other man was younger and half the bigger man’s size.
“What’s going on here?” Adler asked. “Why is everyone standing around?” Then he noticed the blood on the ground. “What’s happened? Somebody clean this up.” He looked at the young wrangler. “You, what’s your name?”
“Ben, sir.”
“Ben, get some straw to soak up this blood and clean it away.”
The boy nodded and hurried off to get straw.
“Carson Hopkins fell from the ladder. It’s serious, and the doctor just now took him to the hospital. Lizzy and Alice went with them,” Oliver reported.
“Will he live?” Adler glanced at the group around him.
“We don’t know. I plan to get everyone squared to their jobs and then go to the hospital myself,” Oliver declared. “Unfortunately, we’re now down another head wrangler.”
“Good thing I was able to arrange for these two men,” Adler said, looking over his shoulder. “Gentlemen, I’d like you to meet Oliver Brookstone, the man who helped start this wild west show. Oliver, this is Abraham Green. He has over twenty years of experience working with horses. And this fella is Josiah Washington, but he informs me that he prefers to be called Half-Pack.”
Oliver nodded with a smile. “I’m mighty glad to have you two join us. We’ve been rather unlucky where wranglers are concerned this year.” He shook hands with Abraham and then the smaller man. “Why do they call you Half-Pack?”
What Comes My Way Page 10
