by Cathy Gohlke
“I’ll do my best, Grandfather.”
He clapped me on the back. “That’s what I ask—what I expect!”
Ma found her voice. “This is wonderful! I know your father will be so proud of you, Robert.” But that wasn’t true.
“Caroline,” boomed Grandfather. “I think it’s high time we throw open the doors of Ashland and pull out the mothballs.”
“Papa, we’ve cleaned this house from attic to cellar!”
“No, no, silly woman! A party! I mean a grand party—a ball—like your mother threw in the old days.”
“A ball!” Ma exclaimed.
“Why not? Don’t you think we’ve plenty to celebrate? How about a Christmas ball?”
“Christmas is over a month away.” Ma looked at me, then added tentatively, “We really should be getting back to Maryland soon.”
He ignored her. “It’s what we need, Caroline. Have the house painted, if you like. Order new draperies—whatever you want. Invite the whole county! We’ll show the town that Ashland is as fine as ever she was. The only thing I insist on is that my daughter be the prettiest belle there! Spare no expense on yourself, Caroline.”
Ma flushed in the excitement. I couldn’t hold my tongue any longer.
“Pa will be expecting us home before then.”
Grandfather turned a look of thunder on me, then caught himself. “Invite him, too, by George! Let him come and see what I’m offering you both!”
Ma rushed toward him. “Do you mean it? Invite Charles here?”
“Certainly I mean it! I don’t say things I don’t mean! It’s about time we all buried the hatchet and got on with the business of being a family.” Grandfather lit a new cigar, drew long on it, and walked out.
“Think what this means, Robert!” Ma hugged me. “I never thought I’d see the day Papa would allow your father across this threshold. We can be a real family, at last! I’m so proud of you, Robert! Your father will be proud, too, once he sees what this can mean for all of us. A future for you, Robert! A real future!” She wiped the tears from her eyes and laughed. “There’s so much to be done! A ball! Think of it! I haven’t even attended a ball since before your father and I were married!”
Ma tripped out of the room happier than I’d ever seen her. But it was still a lie. Pa would not be proud of the gun or the horse or saddle, or even the inheritance. He would not be pleased with the invitation to Grandfather’s Christmas ball. He’d know it all for what it was—a purchase—not so different from the slaves Grandfather bought and sold. I did not doubt that Grandfather would give us all he’d promised, but in return he’d expect our loyalty and service, our obedience and presence every day for the rest of his life.
But when I laid eyes on the spirited black stallion in the stable, I stilled my questions. I’d never dreamed of owning such a horse. The first day I sat on the gate and spoke gentling words to him. The second day I brushed him down till his coat shone and his mane grew fine, like feathers in my hands. I wouldn’t let anybody else groom him or feed him. I didn’t want anyone to come between us. The third day he let me saddle him and lead him around the drive and pathways. By the end of the week we were racing through the fields and exploring trails along the Yadkin. He was already broken, but we had to get to know each other. I determined we’d be best friends, not master and slave.
I named him Stargazer, for the milk white star blazed on his forehead, and for the comfort he gave me those nights I couldn’t sleep, those nights I lay awake, counting and searching the stars outside my window, trying to quiet the rumblings in my mind, aching for the morning when I could ride him again. Stargazer became my closest friend—closer, in some ways, than William Henry. I tried to forget that he was the price of my loyalty to Grandfather. I tried to convince myself that Emily was right, that change comes slowly.
MA INVITED COUSIN ALBERT, Emily, and Alex to dinner the last week in November. We’d just finished dessert when we heard a knock at the front door. A minute later Old George opened the dining room door. “ ’scuse me. Miz Caroline? A telegram’s brung from town and this boy’s got to know does you want to send a reply?”
“Ask him to wait, Old George,” Ma said, stepping into the hallway. Ma tore open the paper. Her eyes ran over the words. She moaned. “Oh, it’s from Charles.” Her eyes found mine. “Miss Laura is dying. We must go home.”
Dying? Miz Laura? My inner world fell through ice.
“What do you mean, ‘go home’?” Grandfather exploded. “You are home!”
“Papa, Miss Laura has been so good to us—like a second mother to me in many ways.” Ma looked up at him, her eyes pleading for his understanding. “And Charles has asked me to come. He’s my husband, Papa. I can’t refuse him.”
“That woman is your husband’s employer, Caroline. Surely she’s got nurses to look after her, or slaves—at least she could have if they weren’t so blamed foolish! Your place is here.”
“Papa—”
“I tell you Caroline that I forbid it! If you go this time I’ll—”
“Uncle!” Cousin Albert stepped between them, pressing Grandfather’s arm. “Don’t threaten things we’ll all regret. We’ve come so far. Caroline is not leaving for good—are you, Cousin?” Ma shook her head uncertainly. “As long as you don’t scare her off with your vile temper!” Cousin Albert tried to make light.
Grandfather bristled, but backed down a mite. “I don’t understand why you think you need to go, Caroline. It’s foolishness. But you’ll leave Robert here.”
“No!” My voice came louder than I’d expected. “I’ll come back when Ma wants to come, but I need to see Miz Laura, and my Pa. Ma, I have to go.”
“Caroline must have an escort at any rate, Uncle—now, of all times.” Cousin Albert broke in again. “Certainly Robert must attend her.”
They followed Grandfather, blustering, into his study, arguing, trying to make arrangements. I left Emily and Alex and ran outside. I couldn’t take it in, Miz Laura dying. I guess some part of me knew that she’d been doing just that for months, but I wasn’t ready. Of all the people I’d ever known, Miz Laura was surely the best and most unselfish. It didn’t seem fair that she should be called so soon. What did God want with her anyway? Couldn’t He see we needed her?
I took to the barn, needing my best friend. Stargazer and I beat a path to the Yadkin, galloping for miles along its bank. I wasn’t praying exactly, more like arguing—with God. We rode until we both were spent.
On the way back I walked Stargazer by the river, past the slave cemetery. Jeremiah was there, draping an old quilt over Jacob’s marking stone. “What’s the quilt for?”
Jeremiah tripped over the stone beside him. He swore in his fright, then told me, “You scarier than a haint!”
“Sorry,” I said. “I thought you heard me coming.” He rubbed his shin. “How are you feeling?”
“I’ll do.” He looked away.
“What’s the quilt for?” I asked again. “Was it Jacob’s?” It looked like something more than most Ashland slaves could boast.
Jeremiah looked me in the eye, something few slaves do, I’d learned. “Just an old thing with crooked stitches.” I knew it wasn’t “just an old thing” to people so poor. I must have showed I didn’t believe him. “Crooked stitches on a quilt keep evil spirits away.” He let me take that in. “Evil travels in a straight path—can’t follow a crooked line.”
“Oh,” I said. “I see.” But I didn’t. I wondered if he was messing with me like William Henry sometimes did, or if he was saying something more that I should understand.
“No need to tell Mr. Jed I out here.” Jeremiah sounded like he didn’t much care, but I knew better.
“I won’t say anything.” He nodded. I stepped over to the quilt and ran my fingers over the patches. “Miz Laura’s got one almost like this. It has that same deep blue center patch. She hangs it out on her wash line lots of the time. I don’t know why she does that.”
“I remember.” O
ur eyes met and I knew he told the truth. I also knew he remembered that day when I saw him in the Heaths’ attic window.
“Jeremiah, if I could have stopped Jed Slocum from cutting off Jacob’s foot or beating you, I would have.” My hands shook, and I couldn’t still them. “I didn’t know how.” Jeremiah looked at the ground. I wanted him to say something—anything.
“Those people that helped us up where you live, they were fine people.”
“One was my pa. He’ll be grieved to know Slocum caught you after—”
“Don’t you tell him!” Jeremiah’s eyes flashed.
“What? Why not? He’ll want to know.”
“He done his best. They all did. That was the best I ever been treated outside of Granny Sara my whole life. That the first time I ever had me a good friend—that William Henry.” Jeremiah looked away. I felt jealous all of a sudden. William Henry was my friend. “He’d come up to the attic with a checkerboard. Taught me how to play. Taught me letters and how to write my name.”
“You have friends here, don’t you?”
Jeremiah looked back at me. “Who gonna be my friend here? I not black enough for the other slaves to take to. Who gonna be my friend? Your mama or your granddaddy? Jed Slocum? No.” He shook his head. “William Henry the first don’t care about my color, the only time I had me a real friend.”
I understood; that was like William Henry. “William Henry’s a good friend to me, too.” And then, before I’d thought it through, I said, “Maybe we could be friends.”
Jeremiah grimaced. “I don’t see how. Nobody here gonna let that be.”
He spoke the truth. I picked up Stargazer’s reins. “You might want to know … Miz Laura’s dying. We got word today.”
“The white-haired lady in the chair?” Jeremiah looked stricken. I nodded. He looked away. “She a great lady—the kindest white lady I ever knowed.”
I couldn’t talk anymore. “I’d best get back.”
“Me, too.”
I didn’t look to see what trail Jeremiah took. I didn’t want to know.
Dusk had fallen by the time I’d fed and brushed Stargazer’s coat to silk, his mane and tail as fine as feathers. When I reached the front lawn Alex stepped off the verandah, blocking my path.
“So you really imagine that you’ll inherit Ashland one day and run it to ruin by ‘freeing the slaves.’ You’re stupid. More stupid than I even imagined.”
“Leave me alone, Alex.” The hair raised from my neck. I tried to brush past him, but he pushed me back and I tripped on the step. Alex was on top of me in a moment, his knee in my chest and his mouth against my ear.
“I know all about you and your yellow-bellied weak stomach for whipping slaves, your ‘run-cry-to-Mama’ over things you have no business meddling in. Well, I have no such qualms, and I mean to make sure Uncle Marcus understands the difference between us.”
“Get off me, you lunatic!” I pushed Alex as hard as I could, but my arms were weak against his weight above me.
“Lunatic!” Alex cackled as he rolled to the grass. “I’m not the crazy one, Cousin. Wait until I tell Uncle Marcus. Maybe he’ll have our good Sheriff Grady telegraph the sheriff in your one-horse town. Arrest Charles Glover stop Stinking abolitionist stop Helps runaway slaves escape stop.’ Do you think that might get their attention? Maybe I should send the telegraph on December second, then your father could join John Brown. I think they’re calling such thieving the ‘Underground Railroad’ in the newspapers now. Is that what they call it at your house, Robert? Are you part of it?” Alex’s voice rose to a fierce whisper.
“Shut up, Alex! You don’t know what you’re talking about.” But he could smell my fear.
“Shut up? Possibly, Cousin. For a price.”
“A price?”
“The gun Uncle Marcus gave you. I’d like a gun of my own. And stay away from Emily.”
“Emily?”
“You are stupid! You repeat everything I say!” He was enjoying himself. “Uncle Marcus and my father are already playing matchmaker between you and Emily. I won’t stand by and watch you two marry and inherit everything that belongs to me.”
“That’s insane, Alex. Nobody’s thinking of such things.” But I heard the ring of truth in what he said. It would be like Grandfather and Cousin Albert, even Ma, to concoct such a scheme.
“The Sharps. And stay away from Emily—no explanations, just stay away.”
I didn’t mind so much about the gun. The guilt of owning it against Pa’s convictions carried a heavy weight. But Emily. I hated doing that to her. But the price of refusing was too high. I couldn’t risk Pa and Mr. Heath or William Henry’s family getting into trouble, all because I’d confided in Emily, or boasted to her. Had Emily told Alex? The thought of her betraying me stung like a punch in the stomach. Had Alex overheard us sometime, or had Ma told Cousin Albert?
“I didn’t come here with a plan to inherit anything, Alex.”
“And you won’t. The question is, what are you willing to lose?”
“You can have the gun. I’ll bring it over before we leave for home. But Grandfather won’t understand why I gave it to you.”
Alex smirked and mocked a bow. “My silence for hire. And Emily. Stay away from her.”
“That will happen anyway when Ma and I leave.”
“Not good enough. You make her understand that you don’t want anything to do with her—not ever.”
I stared hard at him. How did someone so young get to be so mean? I stood and brushed my pants. His smug face sickened me and I wanted to punch him, cut him down, but I didn’t dare. I turned my back and walked inside.
Upstairs, I closed and bolted my door. Moments later a knock came. Emily whispered, “Robert? Are you in there?” She knocked again. “I saw you come up the stairs, Robert. Let me in.”
“Go away, Emily.”
“I just want to say good-bye. Papa has worked it that you’ll be leaving tomorrow. I’m sorry about your friend, Miss Laura. She sounds like a great lady. Cousin Caroline told me about her.” I didn’t answer. “I may not see you again before you leave.”
I leaned into the door, feeling the cool wood against my sweating forehead. “I said, go away.”
“Are you ill, Robert? I know you’re upset about your friend—”
“I don’t want to see you anymore, Emily. Now, I’m going to bed.” Her footsteps backed away from the door, hesitated in the hallway, then sounded slowly down the stairs. I unbolted the door. I’m not ashamed how much I wanted to run after her, but I’m mightily ashamed of the way I treated her. Stretched across the bed I counted over in my mind the people I’d let down—Emily, Pa, Ma, the Heaths, even Jacob and Jeremiah. It was a miserable recitation and a miserable night.
Finally, I fell into a half-sleep. Long after the house was quiet for the night, I dreamed that a squirrel scraped at my head. I woke to a soft tapping outside my door. Nanny Sara crept in by moonlight and pulled my door behind her, her finger to her lips. I pulled up on my elbows, wondering if I was still dreaming, trying to push the sleep from my eyes. She sat down beside me. The ropes of the bed groaned.
“You leaving tomorrow, Masta Robert.”
“Yes, Nanny Sara.”
“But you be back before Christmas.”
“Maybe. I don’t know. It depends on Miz Laura, and my pa.”
“You know your way north by yourself?”
“What? We’ll go on the train.”
“Not then. You know your way? By the drinking gourd and the moss on trees?”
“The drinking gourd? You mean the North Star?”
Nanny Sara’s white teeth smiled in the moonlight. “The moon be right Christmas week and the drinking gourd shine bright.”
“What are you talking about, Nanny Sara?” She was starting to scare me.
“You know Moses? ’Cause we need Moses here now. We need a deliverer bad.”
I tried to shake the fog from my brain. “I don’t know any Moses. I don’t kn
ow what you’re talking about.” I could feel Nanny Sara staring hard at me. Finally she rose from the bed. “Maybe you just a boy—a boy with big talk.” Then she crept from the room, as quietly as she had come.
I stared at the closed door, wondering if I had dreamed her visit. The clock downstairs struck eleven. I’d told Nanny Sara that I didn’t know what she was talking about, but that wasn’t true—at least not altogether. She wanted me to help someone find their way north. But who? Her? Jeremiah? It was true that I didn’t know anyone named Moses. Was Moses a real person, or was she asking me to deliver somebody to freedom like Moses in the Bible delivered the Israelites from Egypt? I could hear Pa’s voice in my mind, reading that story, bringing Moses and his serpent staff to life. I wished Pa were here now to tell me what to do, to let me be a boy again and not have to make these decisions. I’d let everybody down and I needed Pa to set things right. Didn’t I?
IT WAS THE LAST WEEK in November. The leaves had long fallen. Gnarled, bare trunks stood stark against gray skies. The rain-wet wind blew through bones and set teeth on edge. If a person was going to die, nature marked it a fitting end.
Saying good-bye to Stargazer was the hardest. I nuzzled his nose into my chest and whispered in his ear, “I don’t know what will happen when we get home. I don’t know how long it will be before I can come back. But I love you, Stargazer. With all my heart, I love you.”
Cousin Albert drove us to the train himself. He and Ma parted tenderly, more so than cousins ought, it seemed to me. It was good we were going home. It was time.
I checked my watch. I’d done it twelve times in the hours since Grandfather had given it to me. “I know it’s early for Christmas presents, Robert, but I want you to have this now,” he’d said. I’d opened the box and inside, on a blue velvet lining, lay a scrolled, solid gold pocket watch. I opened the case and read the engraving Robert Glover 1859 from Grandfather Marcus Ashton. “This is to remind you, any time of day or night, of the family and stock you come from. Make the Ashton family proud, Robert.” He pressed my shoulder. I didn’t shrug him off It was a special gift a man’s gift and I took it, though my loyalties churned inside me. 124
