by Ginny Dye
“That was fun!” she called.
Anthony laughed. “Indeed it was. I’ve been wanting to ride Eclipse ever since I laid eyes on him. I never dreamed of being able to race him.”
Carrie smiled. “Don’t worry, I know Eclipse could probably beat Granite now in speed, but there is no other horse on the plantation quite like mine,” she said loyally. “There are plenty of horses that have speed, but not all of them have such great hearts.”
“I couldn’t agree more,” Anthony said. “Mark has told me about you and Granite.”
Carrie laughed. “I bet he has. He’ll never forget how we got away from his men during the war.”
“Escaping his soldiers and the plantation, and then jumping a high fence after you had been shot was quite memorable,” he said dryly.
Carrie grinned. Mark knew the secret of her escape, but it was not something they shared with most people. It was time to change the subject. “You’re headed back to Philadelphia tomorrow?”
“I don’t actually live in Philadelphia anymore. I have moved to Richmond.”
Carrie raised a brow and waited for him to continue.
“After spending many years in the garment industry, it was a relief to work with horse buyers. It took me back to my roots. During the war it was not possible to come south to make deals, so Philadelphia was the best choice. Horse breeders are just now starting to rebound south of the Mason-Dixon Line, but I have decided being here to build relationships is worth the financial risk. Besides,” he added, “I would prefer never to live through another Philadelphia winter.”
“I understand that feeling,” Carrie replied. “Have you found a home there? The city is rebuilding from the destruction of the war, but I’m afraid it will take quite some time to ever regain its former glory.”
“I have,” Anthony replied, his voice taking on a slight hesitancy as if he wasn’t sure how she would respond to his next words. “I will be living with your father and Abby for the foreseeable future. I travel quite a bit so they have assured me I will not be an inconvenience.”
“I see,” Carrie murmured. She felt another twinge of uneasiness that she chose to push away.
“You don’t have to worry, Carrie.”
Carrie looked at Anthony expectantly. “Worry?”
“That I will want to court you,” he said directly. “You are quite an attractive woman, but my heart still belongs to my wife. I also know it will be some time before your heart is ready to consider any man.” He smiled gently. “I can be a good friend if you have any interest.”
Carrie smiled, welcoming his open honesty. It was another thing she liked about Northern men. They did not seem to be bound by the Southern tradition of hypocritical courtesy. “I would like that,” she said. She could tell by the look in his eyes that he appreciated her quick acceptance. “You will find I don’t have time for the games most women play.”
“I would say most women on both sides of the Mason-Dixon Line have been taught to play those games,” Anthony chuckled. “I find it singularly exhausting. Thank you for being different.” He laughed. “Not that I would have expected anything else. I still tell people about how easily you played all three of us when we came to look at the colts and fillies in August. You did Abby proud.”
It was Carrie’s turn to laugh. “I loved the look on all your faces when you realized you would be negotiating with me.”
“Negotiating? There was not one thought of a negotiation. I know when I have been out-maneuvered. I simply made the highest offer I had been authorized to make because I knew you were in the control of the whole situation.”
“Was I?” Carrie asked demurely, and then burst into laughter.
Chapter Seven
Janie stepped gratefully into her home, stopping for a moment to appreciate the warmth rushing toward her. She hoped the light snow falling outside was not an early harbinger of a brutally cold winter. Every time snow fell in Philadelphia she found herself longing to be back in the relative warmth of the South. As she hung her thick coat on the hook by the door she wondered if the plantation was getting snow. At least there the blanket of white was beautiful. A sound coming from the kitchen startled her. “Matthew?” she called.
“Janie!” Matthew pushed open the kitchen door and peered out, his bright blue eyes alight with joy. “You’re home early.”
“As are you,” Janie replied. “What are you doing here?” An early arrival usually meant there was new trouble in the country, but she didn’t want to always assume the worst.
Matthew grinned at her and waved a sheet of paper. “I had to come home so you could see this!”
Janie relaxed as she eyed the paper, realizing it must be special to have brought a gleam of joy to her husband’s eyes. “It must be good news.”
“News I thought I would never hear,” Matthew agreed.
Janie’s curiosity was growing. “What in the world is it?”
Matthew waved it in the air and began backing into the kitchen. “Wouldn’t you like to read it over some hot tea and biscuits?”
Janie grinned. “Hot biscuits?”
“And strawberry preserves,” Matthew offered temptingly. “Annie sent them back with us after the Harvest Festival.”
Janie’s grin grew. “I’ll follow you anywhere for hot tea and biscuits with Annie’s preserves.”
She waited until Matthew had put her plate in front of her, along with a steaming cup of tea, and then reached eagerly for the letter. It took only a few seconds for her eyes to widen with surprise. “Harold? Your brother?” Her breath caught. “I thought he was dead.”
Matthew’s grin matched hers. “I thought the same thing.” He shook his head in wonder. “I had to read the letter a few times before I even believed it was real.”
Janie continued to read. “He’s living in Buffalo, New York.” Her eyes grew wider. “He’s a reporter for the Buffalo Evening Courier?”
“Seems to be,” Matthew replied.
“Both of you are reporters?” Janie asked. “You have never said much about him other than to tell me you had a brother who died. What does he look like?”
Matthew hesitated. “He looks like me.”
Janie cocked her head, hearing something unusual in his voice. “It’s not unusual for brothers to look alike.”
Matthew met her eyes. “We are identical twins.”
Janie inhaled sharply and placed the letter on the table. “Twins?” she asked. “You never told me that.” Somehow, the fact they were twins was much more important than merely brothers.
“Talking about Harold was never a favorite thing.” Matthew took a sip of his tea before continuing. “We were close growing up, but then we left home to go to college and things changed. I went to the University of Pennsylvania in Philadelphia. He went to Madison University in Hamilton, New York.” He stared unseeingly out the window for several moments. “We grew apart,” he finally said.
Janie could tell the memories were painful, but she sensed he needed to talk about it. “Why?” she asked softly, grateful for the cocoon of comfort the kitchen created as the snow swirled against windows fogged by steam from the kettle.
Matthew continued to gaze out the window. “Manifest Destiny,” he replied.
Janie shook her head. “I’m afraid I’m not following you.” Matthew swung away from the window and fastened his gaze on her. Janie could tell he was trying to center himself. She held his eyes, realizing that despite how joyful he was to hear from Harold, the memories of what had torn them apart were still painful.
“Manifest Destiny is a phrase coined in the 1840s to support the belief that as Americans we are meant to expand across North America. According to this belief, American settlers have special virtues that make it our mission to remake North America in the image of the United States. We are meant to spread from coast to coast. Whether we want to or not, it is our destiny under God to subjugate anything that stands in the way of that.”
Janie stared at him, her
mind whirling. “That sounds rather arrogant.”
Matthew managed a chuckle. “That would be putting it mildly, my dear. The belief in Manifest Destiny was used in the forties to justify war with Mexico. In 1846, it was used to take back a large part of land in the Oregon territory that had been claimed by the British. It was used in 1845 to annex the Texas Territory. The government agreed to assume a lot of its massive debts when they annexed the state. It wasn’t until the Compromise of 1850 that the debts were fully paid.”
Janie raised a brow. “I never knew any of this,” she murmured. “How did the Compromise relieve the debt?”
“The government gave Texas ten million dollars. In return, they ceded a very large portion of Texas-claimed territory to the United States.” Matthew frowned. “The same Manifest Destiny belief is being used to take land away from the Indians now. It’s what is happening to Chooli’s people.”
As fascinating as Janie found all this, it still didn’t answer the question that had started the conversation. “How did Manifest Destiny tear you and Harold apart?”
Matthew shook his head heavily. “He believed in Manifest Destiny. I did not.”
“Enough to tear you apart?”
“Manifest Destiny has been disagreed on since the beginning. There were people who certainly endorsed it, but there were many, including Lincoln and Grant, who rejected it. They saw America’s moral mission as one of democratic example rather than one of conquest. They did not believe we should just take what we wanted because of some kind of divine mandate. Obviously, Harold and I felt differently. I tried to understand his position, but he treated me as if I was an evil barrier standing in the way of what America was meant to accomplish.”
“I’m assuming there was money involved?”
Matthew smiled bitterly. “Isn’t there always? Harold wanted to be a part of the railroad industry. He had visions of becoming a millionaire. He knew the only way that could happen was for the railroads to stretch coast to coast. He was for anything that would assure that reality. Nothing could stand in the way of the profits that could be created.”
Janie frowned. She knew such an attitude would have infuriated her fair-minded husband. She could imagine the fight that had split the brothers. She was just as intrigued that somehow he and Robert had managed a friendship even when they were on opposite sides during the war. To have remained friends with Robert, yet lose his brother, must have been a bitter pill to swallow.
Matthew read her thoughts. “I tried to find a way to bridge the gap. Although Robert fought for the South during the war, we still had mutual respect and love for each other. Harold let greed take him over completely. There was nowhere in the middle to find common ground.” He shook his head. “It was Harold who told me he never wanted to see me again. That was ten years ago.” He closed his eyes. “I was able to discover he was fighting during the war so I kept an eye out on all the casualty reports. The reports told me he was killed during the Battle of Gettysburg.”
“You’ve thought he was dead for more than four years,” Janie murmured, her soft blue eyes darkened with pain. Then she thought of the joy she had seen on Matthew’s face. “You looked so happy when I came in. I know you’re thrilled he is alive, but have things changed?”
Matthew’s eyes cleared of the memories. “Harold has changed,” he answered. “I have to let the past go and focus on what he has become.” He pointed at the letter. “Go ahead and finish reading.”
Janie reached for the letter again. As she read, a huge smile spread across her face.
I’m hoping you can forgive me for being a fool. The War taught me there is so much more to life than money. I watched people die all around me. I’m still amazed I came out alive. I’ve seen all the death and destruction I hope to ever see.
During the long nights, I thought back to all the conversations we had before I threw you out of my life. It took almost dying more times than I can count to realize it was greed that brought America to war, and that I was as greedy as any of them. I asked God for forgiveness, and now I’m asking you.
You are my only brother, and I want you in my life. I am living in Buffalo, New York. I know I am asking a lot, but if you can find your way to forgive me, I would like to see you again. I can come to Philadelphia, or you can come to Buffalo. I have read every article you have written. I’m proud of you. I hope to be as good a journalist as you are, but I have some catching up to do.
Is there any chance to bridge this gap, brother? You talked to me so many times about bridging the gap between our beliefs. I refused then. I’m hoping there is still a way that can happen.
Your brother,
Harold
Janie smiled when she laid the letter down. “That’s wonderful, Matthew. We should go to Buffalo for Christmas.”
“Christmas?” Matthew looked confused. “But this might be our last Christmas on the plantation with everyone. I want to see Harold, but I don’t want to miss that.”
Janie thought quickly. “What if we could do both things?”
“Have you discovered a way to be in two places at the same time?”
“No,” Janie replied with a chuckle, “but I have an idea. What if we were to leave here on December seventeenth to go to Buffalo? We could spend three days with Harold, and then catch a train back to Richmond in time to get to the plantation in time for Christmas. I’m done with school on December fifteenth. We could make this work.” The more she talked, the more she became confident of her plan.
Matthew considered her words for a moment. “I’m so very glad I married a brilliant woman. It might be a little tight, but it’s a perfect solution.” He picked up the letter and read it again, a glad light in his eyes. “Let’s finish our tea and biscuits. Then I’m going to write Harold a letter. We’re going to Buffalo!”
*****
Carrie reined in Granite to give him a breather after a race with Susan and Silver Wings. Susan’s tall, black Thoroughbred mare with the glistening white star on her forehead had arrived by train several days earlier. As much as Carrie wanted to claim Granite the victor, the truth was they had been neck and neck the whole way. Neither one could get an edge on the other.
“That was fun!” Susan called, tossing back her long braid.
“Granite was going easy on Silver Wings because he has a crush,” Carrie replied. “I never felt him open up all the way.”
Susan snorted. “Silver Wings was the one taking it easy. She seems to know male ego is weak. How can she expect to win Granite’s heart if she leaves him in the dust?”
“As if she has a chance,” Carrie protested. She burst into laughter. “You’re right—it was great fun!”
The two friends laughed and chatted as they rode along at a ground-swallowing walk. Mid-November had swept the brilliant fall foliage from the trees. Their color still created a vivid carpet, but the gray limbs, unencumbered by the leaves, clattered freely. What had been a soft breeze when they left the barn had turned into a brisk wind that made Carrie pull her coat tighter.
“There is a cold front coming in,” Susan observed.
“Winter is on the way,” Carrie agreed. “I hope they have fires going in the house when we get home.”
“Home,” Susan echoed. “It’s strange, but it already feels that way to me.” She smiled at Carrie. “You’ve made it so easy for me to fit in here. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” Carrie replied, “but I haven’t had to do anything. You have fit in from the day you arrived. I love having you here.”
“The day I arrived…” Susan cocked her head. “That was a day to remember.”
“I think I would prefer to forget it,” Carrie retorted. “I was quite certain it was never going to end.”
“You never found out what happened with those two men?
“They were there when I left the clinic the night of the Harvest Festival. I suppose I should say the next day since it was almost dawn when we left. We were all exhausted and needed some rest. T
hey seemed stable when I checked on them so I told everyone to go home and get some rest, including the guards.” Carrie shook her head. “When I got there later that day they were gone. The Klansmen must have been watching from the woods. When we left, they broke in and rescued their friends.”
“Rescued them or carried them to their death?”
“We’ll probably never know,” Carrie answered, not wanting to ruin a wonderful day by thinking about it anymore. She had done what she could to save the men. They were no longer her responsibility. “I’m grateful they didn’t do damage to the clinic, though. I suppose that was their way of saying thank you for saving their friends.” She pushed Granite into a trot, hoping Susan would catch the hint that she didn’t want to say anything else.
Susan edged up to ride beside her again. She was not done asking questions, but at least she had changed the topic. “And you’re really all right with me taking over Cromwell Stables?”
“I’m perfectly fine with you running things because I know you’ll do a great job.”
Susan had a worried pucker between her brows. “There is something you’re not saying. Is something wrong?”
“No,” Carrie insisted. “It’s just…I don’t want to leave.” There. She had finally said it. Rose knew how she felt, but she hadn’t wanted to admit it to anyone else.
“You’ve changed your mind about being a doctor?” Susan asked.
“No,” Carrie said. “I know I want to be a doctor. I just don’t want to go back to school. The idea of being in Philadelphia again is suffocating.” She didn’t need to add that even though there were times she longed to be away from all the memories, leaving the place she had lost Robert was making it even more difficult. It was no secret that working with the horses Robert had loved and raised was a big part of what had brought Carrie back to life.
“Do you have to go?” Susan asked.
