by Ginny Dye
“How does it feel owning half of Cromwell Plantation?” Franklin asked. “I can tell you had a bumper crop.”
“It feels surreal,” Moses admitted, “but good.” He eyed Franklin. “How can you tell it was a bumper crop?”
Franklin shrugged. “The dirt is still dark and fertile-looking, so it had to grow some mighty big tobacco. The plants are close together, and the stalks are thick. You pulled a lot of tobacco off these fields.”
Moses nodded and met his friend’s eyes. “What are you doing here, Franklin?”
“I came for a job. I didn’t have no idea you would own half this place, but I heard through the grapevine that you were here.”
“You became a Buffalo Soldier because you didn’t want to work in the tobacco fields anymore,” Moses reminded him, not surprised at the effectiveness of the grapevine. It was the only way slaves had communicated for generations.
“That’s true, but all my time in a tobacco field been as a slave. I wanted to get as far away from any reminder of that as I could.” Franklin paused. “The thing is, I missed it every minute I was out West. Oh, it’s pretty enough out there, but I missed the green, and I missed making things grow. When I decided to leave Bosque Redondo, I knew I wanted to come back to Virginia. I decided I was going to find you and try to get a job. I know it is the end of the growing season, but I got me a little money from the army. I could have bought train tickets, but I figured Chooli and I might need it to live for a while.”
Moses listened carefully, remembering his long conversations with Franklin during the endless nights between battles. Franklin had known as much as Moses did about farming tobacco. “It’s not easy living around here right now.”
“Best I can tell, it ain’t easy living as a black man anywhere in this country.”
“That’s true,” Moses agreed, still watching his friend. “It will probably be harder having an Indian wife.”
“I thought you didn’t know nothing about Indians.”
“I don’t, but people don’t seem to like anyone that is different. Combine a black man and an Indian woman? It might be harder, is all.”
Franklin shrugged. “Harder is all I’ve ever known. If I can at least do what I want to do while I’m living harder, then I guess it will even out.”
Moses couldn’t argue with that; it was the same conclusion he had come to many times. The tobacco barns came into view. “We’ll finish this conversation later. Right now I have to get this shipment moving.”
Franklin eyed all the men. “They’re up early, too.”
“They get a percentage of the crop. They’re not going to take any chance of something going wrong.”
Franklin whistled his disbelief. “A percentage of the crop?”
Moses glanced at him, certain he saw nothing but approval. “We find having a stake in the success of the tobacco yield makes everyone work harder. Even with the workers getting a percentage, we all make more money.”
“Makes sense.” It was all Franklin had time to say before they arrived at the barn.
“That be you, Franklin?”
“Where in the world did you come from, man?”
Moses watched as his men clustered around Franklin. They had all respected him during the war. Two and a half years of being apart didn’t seem to have changed that any. His eyes narrowed as he watched the easy laughter and banter.
After a few minutes, Franklin edged away. “I hear tell y’all got a shipment to get moving. How can I help?”
Within an hour, all eight wagons were loaded with great bundles of dried tobacco. Moses watched as the wagons, surrounded by well-armed guards, rolled down the drive toward the gate. The departure of the wagons announced the official end to the 1867 harvest. Now would begin the hard work of preparing for winter and the coming spring.
“You’re looking sad, Moses,” Franklin observed.
Moses waited until the last wagon had rolled out of sight before he responded. “Leaving the plantation will be hard. At one point I was excited about going to college…” His voice trailed off.
“But now you’re not?”
“I don’t really know what I feel about it anymore, I just know I don’t want to leave the plantation.”
“Then why are you?”
“Because Rose deserves her chance to go to school. She’s waited for a long time, always putting others’ needs before her own. This is her turn.” He briefly explained about Carrie. “Now that Carrie is going back to school, Rose can leave. I would never do anything to get in her way.” He answered the question he saw in Franklin’s eyes. “And I would never let her go by herself. The war kept us apart far too long. She’s given up a lot for me. Now it’s my turn to give up something for her.”
“I see,” Franklin murmured.
Moses appreciated that there was no judgment in his voice. “I watched you with the men this morning.”
“They’re good men,” Franklin replied. “It’s clear how much they respect you.”
“It’s also clear how much they respect you,” Moses answered. “Do you really want to grow tobacco again?” He had watched as Franklin inspected the crop, nodded his approval of the drying barns, and pitched in to help with loading the bundles.
“More than anything,” Franklin answered. “You saying I got a job here, Moses?”
Moses took a deep breath. “I’m saying I may have the person who can run things here while I’m gone.”
Franklin pulled Chancellor up short and stared at Moses for a long moment. “What you say?”
Moses smiled, suddenly more certain than ever that he was right. “I remember our long talks. You know tobacco. The men respect you. I can teach you what else you need to know before I leave in January. There is a nice cabin down in the old quarters that will be perfect for your family.” He could tell Franklin was searching for words. “I’ll give you time to think about it.”
Franklin found his voice. “I don’t need no time to think about it, Moses. I just couldn’t figure out how to make my mouth work to form words.”
Moses chuckled. “Should I assume the words are going to mean yes?”
“Yes,” Franklin managed. “Yes,” he repeated, shaking his head. “You really figure I can run a fancy place like this?”
“Maybe not today,” Moses replied, “but you’ll be ready by the time I leave. As long as your head can handle all I’m going to cram inside it. I sure am glad I taught you and Simon how to read during the war.” He hesitated. “I do have one question…”
Franklin read the expression on his face accurately. “The army has no idea where I am, Moses. I didn’t talk to nobody before I left. I promise you ain’t nobody going to come looking.”
Moses peered into his eyes and then nodded. “I trust you.” He thought about how difficult it would be to leave the plantation. “I don’t really know when I’ll be back.” He refused to say if he would be back. He didn’t know what the future was going to hold, but he couldn’t imagine it wouldn’t have him back on Cromwell Plantation at some point.
“Not knowing ain’t no problem for me,” Franklin assured him. “I had no clue what was going to happen when I left the reservation. I still didn’t have no clue this morning. Now I got me a clue, but I don’t have to know what’s coming out there in the future. I figure I’m going to live today. I been doing that for the last six months, and it seems to be working out right well.”
Moses chuckled and pushed Champ into an easy canter. “I don’t know about you, but I’m starving. Let’s go have breakfast and check on our families.” Franklin fell into place beside him. Until now, Moses didn’t realize how much he had missed Simon when he left for Blackwell Plantation. He liked all the men who worked for him, but Simon had been like a brother. He hoped he could have something like that with Franklin for the months he would still be here. It would fill some of the void left by Simon’s departure and Robert’s death.
Chapter Six
Carrie inhaled the crisp air as she
walked toward the barn. The only way she was going to make it through today was by first losing herself in the horses. A filmy layer of fog hovered over the ground, and the sun was nothing more than a pink glimmer on the horizon. The surrounding trees, silenced into autumnal statues by the fog, seemed to reach out to her with sympathy.
Carrie stopped, crossed her arms over the board fence, and watched as the foals—most of them at least five months old now—cavorted in the fields. She loved to watch them prance around the pasture, their tails waving like flags as their heads bobbed with youthful pride. One in particular always brought her great joy. As if called by her thoughts, Sable shot across the field, bucking her joy as she raced up the fence line. She snorted, hopped to a stiff-legged stop, and lifted her head to stare at Carrie.
“Hello, girl,” Carrie murmured. She never tired of watching the leggy, solid-black filly. Robert had taken an instant liking to her, telling Carrie that Sable was the finest of this year’s crop of horses. Her conformation was perfection, she was fast, and her eyes glimmered with both spirit and kindness. All the horses were intelligent, but Sable had an edge on them, catching on a little more quickly and always performing just a little better.
“I still believe you should have included her in our sales agreement.”
Carrie was startled when Anthony’s voice sounded next to her, but she kept her gaze on Sable. Robert had decided when she was just weeks old that the filly would stay here on the plantation to improve the breeding program. “I’m sure you do.”
“And you feel absolutely no remorse, do you?”
“Not a bit,” Carrie retorted. She didn’t want the interruption, but she would not be ungracious. “You’re up early this morning.”
“Weddings do that to me,” Anthony replied.
“Excuse me?”
“I’ve known Mark and Catherine all my life. I’m truly happy for them, and I’m glad your father agreed for them to marry here today, but any wedding really does nothing more than remind me of what I’ve lost,” Anthony said.
Carrie took a deep breath. He had spoken her thoughts. “I understand.”
“I’m sure you do,” Anthony replied. “Did Robert’s death interfere with the breeding program for next year?”
“Not a bit,” Carrie said quickly, grateful for the change in subject he was offering. “Clint was more than qualified to handle it. We had only bought a few more mares before Robert…”
Anthony saved her from having to say it. “Are all the mares in foal?”
“All that were here in May,” Carrie answered. “Clint and I purchased thirty more mares this summer, but they will not be bred to Eclipse until next spring. Robert believed it is best for all the foals to be born as close to each other as possible, and he wanted them to be older before winter struck. Next year’s crop will be larger than this one, but the following year will be even better,” she added.
Anthony gazed at her, interpreting her expression. “It’s going to be hard to leave to finish school,” he said perceptively, his eyes kind.
“Perhaps no harder than staying,” Carrie said softly. As much as she savored every memory of Robert, she sometimes wondered what life would be like if every moment wasn’t filled with painful remembrances. She had experienced a taste of it during her trip to Kansas, but being back in Philadelphia would be far different.
*****
Carrie sat next to her father and Abby while Mark and Catherine exchanged their vows. She had stayed busy in the barn until there was just enough time to change into a ruby-red gown that reflected the leaves glistening overhead. Her father’s shining eyes said she looked lovely, but it was not really important to her.
The heavens had delivered a perfect day. A slight breeze rustled its music through the trees as red-tailed hawks screeched their agreement. Carrie watched as three red cardinals glided in to perch on the limb over the couple’s head.
Against her will, her mind traveled back to the spring day when she had given her oath to Robert. She thought of the single magnolia bloom her father had picked for her—a spot of beauty in a war-torn city. She and Robert had shared so many hopes and dreams. To have survived so much only to lose him to the bullet of a fellow southerner was still more than she could comprehend.
Carrie blinked back hot tears and focused on the words being spoken by the minister her father had somehow secured in time for the wedding. She smiled as Mark, his face glowing with joy, leaned down to kiss his bride. She wished for them nothing but happiness, but she knew life could steal anything away in a moment’s breath.
*****
“Carrie!”
Carrie was jolted from her thoughts. “Yes, Amber?”
“I said your name three times before you heard me,” Amber accused.
“I’m sorry, honey. I was thinking about something else.”
Amber locked eyes with her. “I know what you were thinking about.”
She was sure Amber was right, but talking about it would do nothing but make this day harder. “Do you want something, honey?”
“I want to ask you if you’re coming to the dance. Since everyone had to miss the Harvest Ball, this wedding dance will have to do.”
Carrie’s breath caught and her mind raced. It had been hard enough to attend the ceremony. She was no more ready for a wedding dance than she had been for the Harvest Ball.
“Well, are you?” Amber demanded.
“She can’t.”
Amber turned on Anthony as he walked up behind her. “And why not?”
“Because she promised to show me around the plantation,” Anthony said gravely. “I’m leaving tomorrow and this is the only time she can do it. Since I am a very important client, she feels she has to.”
Carrie felt a rush of both relief and amusement as she watched doubt flicker in Amber’s eyes.
“Is that right, Carrie?”
Carrie grasped on to the rope Anthony presented. At this point, she couldn’t have cared less what was true. All she knew was that she was confident she would not survive a wedding dance. “Yes, honey.” She struggled to keep her voice appropriately regretful. “I promised Anthony before I knew there would be a wedding. This is really very important. You want Cromwell Stables to keep selling the babies, don’t you?”
Amber nodded reluctantly, but then turned to Anthony with a flash of her usual defiance. “It seems to me a wedding dance is more important than riding around the plantation, though.”
Anthony smiled. “I promise you Mark and Catherine won’t miss us. I have to go home tomorrow, and this is our only chance. It seems important for me to be able to tell potential buyers about the wonderful plantation the horses are coming from,” he added persuasively.
Amber considered his words before flashing a bright smile. “I guess that’s makes sense,” she acquiesced. Then she spun toward Carrie. “Do you remember the dress I wore for last year’s Harvest Ball when I won the tournament?”
“The creamy white gown that made you look like a queen? Of course I remember.”
Amber’s eyes grew serious. “Do you think it’s all right if I wear that dress again?” she asked uncertainly.
Carrie saw past Amber’s words to her real question. “Who is the boy you are trying to impress?”
“Wade,” Amber admitted, her eyes dropping from shyness. “His daddy started working here this spring. He’s the first boy I’ve ever liked, I reckon.”
“He’s a lucky boy,” Anthony said warmly.
Amber’s eyes shot up. “Do you really think so?”
“I know so,” Anthony said. “You are beautiful, you are smart, and you are a great horse trainer. Wade should be the one trying to impress you.”
Carrie felt a surge of gratitude when Amber giggled. Intense sadness followed close behind. Robert should have been the one encouraging Amber. Carrie knew how much it would have meant to him to learn the little girl he loved as a daughter was finally noticing boys. He would have made her feel like a princess.
&
nbsp; *****
Carrie began to relax as soon as she and Anthony rounded the last curve. A final glance over her shoulder told her the plantation house was no longer in view. Despite her decision not to attend the dance, she had struggled with guilt as she saddled Granite. She doubted anyone else would notice, but her mother would have been appalled at her lack of courtesy. The thought made her chuckle.
Anthony, looking completely at home on Eclipse, raised a brow. “Care to share?”
“I was thinking about my mother,” Carrie admitted. “How she would disapprove of my not attending the dance. Then I imagined the look on her face if she could see me riding away from it in breeches and a coat.” She saw no need to mention it was Robert’s old jacket. There were days in the hot summer that she had worn it just to make him feel closer. She was thankful for the crisp days that now made it part of her necessary attire. It had not been washed since his death, so it still carried his smell—or at least she imagined it did.
“You and your mother didn’t see eye to eye, I take it,” Anthony observed.
Carrie smiled. “My mother was a very traditional Southern woman. I was her cross to bear,” she said cheerfully. “We found peace during the last days before her death, but for most of my life, she was intent on changing me.”
“I’m glad she failed,” Anthony said sincerely.
Carrie tensed but saw nothing except a casual friendliness in Anthony’s eyes. “I believe in the end she was, too.” A gust of wind created a swirl of leaves that danced through the air and unleashed the band that had tightened around her heart and throat during the long day. She leaned forward. “Let’s see if you can catch up,” she called. The constriction fell away as Granite leapt forward into a gallop, his long strides swallowing the road.
She was aware of Eclipse falling into place beside her, but Carrie was content to let the wind whip through her hair. She lay low over Granite’s neck and let him run. It wasn’t until he began to slow down on his own that she straightened and reined him down to an easy walk.
