by Ginny Dye
Her voice hardened. “But I’ll just be writing my friends and family. I came down here to do a job, and that’s what I intend to do. I know you probably have special orders to get rid of all the white teachers, but this one isn’t going to go without a fight. You boys already lost several of your own when you tried to trespass on Cromwell Plantation last fall. That didn’t go very well for you. I can promise it won’t go well for a few of you if you come after me. Oh,” she admitted, fighting to keep her voice nonchalant, “you may kill me, but some of you will die in the attempt. You will have to decide who that will be.”
“You’re treading on dangerous ground.” The man who had been silent until that moment had found his voice.
“I would say that, right now, you are the one treading on dangerous ground,” Lillian snapped, grateful for all the bullies she had fought in her days. They had taught her to never back down. “And it happens to be ground I need to pass over. Either move in the next few seconds, or I will aim a little lower with my next shot.”
“We’ll be back,” the man called as he cursed and turned his horse. “You can count on it.”
“Make sure you know which ones of you are willing to die,” Lillian called after them as they cantered away. Once they had rounded the curve and the sound of hoof beats faded in the distance, she slumped into her saddle, limp with relief.
“You handled that right well, Miss Lillian.”
Lillian gasped in surprise as a lone horseman emerged from the woods behind her. “Jeb!”
“Yep. It’s always been my job to take Miss Rose to school and make sure she got home all right.”
“I told you I didn’t need anyone,” Lillian protested.
“Yep,” Jeb agreed. “I see how well that turned out. You handled it right well, but it ain’t safe for no woman teacher to be on her own around here. You’re right tough, Miss Lillian, but I ain’t sure you’re real smart.”
Lillian laughed, grateful for a way to ease the tension. “You might be right,” she admitted.
“Yep,” Jeb said again, not hiding his grin this time. “I got me a letter from Miss Rose yesterday. She told me to take you to school, whether you wanted me to or not. You told me not to come with you this morning, but I was following you in the woods on a side trail. It weren’t hard to keep you in sight.”
“And while I was talking with the men?” Lillian asked curiously.
“I had my gun aimed on the one who didn’t have a hole in his hat. I figured you could handle the other one just fine,” he answered.
Lillian laughed again and then relented. “So how are we going to do this in the future?”
“I guess you’re smart after all,” Jeb replied. “I’ll ride with you to school every morning. You handle a horse well, so there is no need to take the carriage. I’ll keep an eye on the school during the day, and then ride home with you when you’re done.”
“But aren’t you needed in the fields?”
“Yep, but not as much as I’m needed here. All of us got children in your school. And wives who come at night. The men get schooling during the winter, but now everyone is in the fields. They will all work a little harder so I can look after things at the school.” He paused and offered her another smile. “We’re all real glad you are here. We’re sorry Miss Rose ain’t here anymore, but she told me in the letter that you are a fine teacher, and that I should take real good care of you. I intend to do that.”
“Thank you,” Lillian murmured. She turned Misty toward the school. “Now, I would like to get there before my students on the first day.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Jeb answered as he trotted up beside her.
*****
Lillian leaned against the pasture fencing, watching the yearlings prance through the fields. She knew they would all be picked up next week and taken to their new owners. She could hardly wait for the new crop of colts and fillies to start dropping, but she would be sad to say good-bye to the ones she had already made friends with.
“How was the first day of school?”
Lillian glanced up as Susan rode over on one of the new mares she had just purchased—a beautiful iron gray Thoroughbred with powerful hindquarters and a refined head. “I had a wonderful time with the children,” Lillian said enthusiastically. “They all love Miss Rose, but they are willing to give me a chance.”
Susan eyed her. “No problems on the way to school?”
Lillian, alerted by the tone of her voice, sighed. “You must have talked to Jeb.”
“I did.” Susan grinned. “Did you really put a hole through one of the men’s hats?”
“Yes. I spent a portion of the day wishing I had gone ahead and aimed lower.”
Susan’s grin faded. “They are dangerous, Lillian.”
“I know,” Lillian agreed soberly. “I’ve agreed to let Jeb ride with me from now on, but I’m afraid I may be putting his life in danger, too.”
“If the risk seems to increase, there will be others who will step in for protection.”
Lillian nodded. “Some of the white fathers told me they would be taking turns watching the school throughout the day.” She shook her head. “I’d heard how hard it is for blacks to get an education in the South, but I didn’t realize it is equally hard for white children.”
“If you’re not white and rich,” Susan said disdainfully. “Rose did a great thing when she opened the school to all students. Southern men believe people are easier to control if they are uneducated.”
“They are right,” Lillian said seriously. “Ignorance is the biggest threat to democracy. It’s more, though, than being able to read and write. You need to know what is going on in your government and your country if you want to change things. Too many people in power understand that if you limit education, you limit resistance.”
Susan was watching her closely. “Your life has been hard,” she said perceptively.
Lillian shrugged. “Everyone has something about their life that is hard. I’m not special.”
Susan continued to watch her. “You are an ace shot, and Jeb said you stood up to the vigilantes with great courage.”
“Vigilantes!” Lillian snorted. “They are nothing but overgrown bullies with hoods. They are not men. They are pathetic little boys who never grew up. I can handle bullies.”
“Why?” Susan asked quietly. “Why have you been bullied?”
Lillian sighed. She and Susan had gotten closer in the few days she had been there, spending many hours riding around the plantation. She was going to be nothing but honest with her. “Life is not easy for women who are not beautiful like you are, Susan.” She raised a hand when Susan started to protest. “Don’t bother telling me it’s not true, because I know it is. I don’t happen to believe it defines my value or worth as a person, but being homely makes it easy for me to be a target. It always has, and it always will.” She stared out at the pasture. “I decided a long time ago to stand up for myself and never back down to bullies. I also decided to become as smart as I possibly could because it was obvious I was going to need to rely on my brain.”
“But—” Susan started.
Lillian refused to let her interrupt. “I’m not saying that life is always easy for you, and I already know you are fiercely independent and intelligent. In truth, every woman in this country needs to make that choice. No matter how beautiful you are, something can happen to mar your beauty, or old age steals it, and then you are left with nothing.” She swung around to look in Susan’s eyes. “Have you ever looked at a large group of people and asked yourself how many of them are truly attractive? I have,” she said, not giving Susan time to respond. “There aren’t that many, Susan. Not many truly beautiful people according to the accepted definition. Everyone seems to have something that keeps them from meeting that qualification, but people still seem to value beauty above all else. Too many women believe they have less value because they aren’t beautiful. Now that we have magazines that flaunt pictures of women, we all seem to believe
we need perfect figures, a beautiful face and the right clothes. I refuse to play into that game!”
“I see,” Susan murmured. “Are you going to take a deep enough breath for me to tell you that you’re right?”
Lillian chuckled. “I suppose I do become rather defensive.”
“Neither of us are responsible for our looks, Lillian. I didn’t have any say about how I looked when I came out of my mother’s womb. I suppose I’m glad that people think I’m beautiful, because I’m human enough to appreciate that life is a little easier for me because of it, but if I define myself by my looks then I am no better than the people who define others by the fact they are not as attractive. I prefer to define myself as being independent and intelligent, and as someone who wants to make life better for other people. I have found that is something I am justified to be proud of.”
“I—” Lillian began.
Susan was the one who interrupted her this time. “I have only known you a few days, but I already think you are a remarkable woman. And I find it ludicrous that you consider yourself homely.”
“People have made sure I am aware of the truth. I’m six feet tall and hardly a beauty,” Lillian said flatly.
“Which does not parlay into homely,” Susan retorted. “You have beautiful green eyes and a radiant smile. Yes, you are tall, but I suspect people are simply intimidated by that, as well as by the fact that you are strong and confident. I’ve often wished I was taller. And have you noticed, in spite of how beautiful you believe I am, that I am still single? Most men are simply intimidated by me. I made myself quit caring years ago. Any man would be lucky to have either of us.”
Lillian sighed, turning her eyes back to the pasture.
“Did I say something wrong?” Susan asked after a lengthy silence.
“No,” Lillian muttered, fighting the resentment bubbling inside her. She wasn’t angry at Susan so there was no reason to let her see it. And she certainly wasn’t going to talk about what she was feeling. “I could use a long ride after my encounter today, and I think Misty would appreciate it, as well.” She took a deep breath. “I think this time I would like to go alone. I need to clear my head.”
“Of course,” Susan responded, but she laid a hand on Lillian’s arm. “I’m sorry if I said something to upset you.”
Lillian met her eyes for a moment, wondering if she could share what she was feeling, but she turned away out of habit. “I’m fine,” she assured her. “I just need some time to ride off having to almost shoot a man this morning.” She kept her voice light, and even managed a smile, before she strode off.
*****
Anthony climbed the steps of Thomas Cromwell’s house, glad to be back in Richmond after an extended stay in Philadelphia on business. There was very little to do in the horse industry during the frigid winter months, but now that spring had descended upon the South, it was time to go back to doing what he loved best.
Abby looked up with a glad smile when Anthony entered. “You’re back! Welcome.”
Anthony set his luggage at the bottom of the stairs. “It’s good to be back. I appreciated the opportunities you gave me this winter, but I have discovered I have become quite a Southern man. I hope never to spend another winter north of the Mason-Dixon Line.”
“You and me both,” Abby agreed. “As much as I complain about the summer heat at times, it is far preferable to endless months of snow and cold. Spring is the very best time to be in Virginia. I’m thrilled to be going with you next week when you get the horses.”
“I have such vivid memories of the plantation last summer, and then last fall, but I know neither of those holds a candle to what it must be like in the spring.”
“It is paradise,” Abby agreed. “I can’t help wondering, though, how you are going to move all those yearlings. That is going to be a huge job.”
“You’re right,” Anthony replied. “We arrive on the plantation next Monday, and there will be a team of wagons arriving Friday. We’ll tie the horses onto the wagons six at a time and lead them back here. At least to the outskirts. I know Amber and Clint will have them ready to be pulled into town, but they have never seen a train station and never been exposed to the craziness of the city. We’ll stop outside town and then take them in two at a time to load them onto the train cars that will deliver them to their destinies.”
Abby frowned. “I can’t help feeling sorry for them. It will be a terrifying experience for those babies to be yanked away from the plantation and into such chaos.”
“You’re right,” Anthony said in a troubled voice. “I always hate this part of it, but I can assure you that when they reach the stables they are bound for, they will once again have the kind of life they have at Cromwell.”
Abby changed the subject to one less troublesome. “Do you think you have buyers for more of the foals coming this year? I suspect the first ones will be born this week.”
Anthony grinned. “Your connections up north ended up being advantageous in more than one way. I found I rather enjoyed drumming up business for your factories again, but it was one gentleman in particular who made my winter so profitable.”
“Oh? Do tell what happened.”
“In late February, I met a gentleman by the name of Percy Antoinette while at dinner with Mark Jones in Philadelphia. Percy has just become owner of a large stables in northern Pennsylvania, and asked Mark if he knew where he could get some good stock.” Anthony’s eyes twinkled. “Mark happened to tell him he had taken ownership the year before of fifty of the finest yearlings he had ever seen.”
Abby started to grin. “And then Mr. Antoinette asked Mark where he got the horses…”
“And Mark happened to mention that I had been the buying agent for all the horses on Cromwell Plantation,” Anthony finished with a broad smile. “By the time dinner was finished, Mr. Antoinette had put forth a very impressive offer for all of this year’s foals.”
Abby gaped at him. “All of them? There will be at least seventy foals this year.”
“I’m relieved to know I got the number right.”
Abby’s eyes narrowed. “What is your definition of an impressive offer?”
Anthony threw his head back and laughed loudly. “Do you really believe I would bring anything but an offer that is substantially better than last year’s? I am certain you and Carrie have already taught Susan all the techniques you taught your daughter.”
“Substantially better?” Abby murmured, obviously trying to sound skeptical, but failing miserably.
Anthony laughed again. “I warned Percy he would be foolish to start negotiations with anything less than his best offer if he wanted to do business with the Cromwell women.”
“That was wise,” Abby quipped.
Anthony reached into his pocket and pulled out a sheet of paper. “I realize Susan will be the one to make the final decision this year, but I believe you will be interested in seeing Percy’s offer.”
Abby reached for the paper eagerly, read what was written there, and then closed her eyes for a long moment. When she opened them, they were shining with tears.
“Abby?” Anthony felt a twinge of alarm. Perhaps, in spite of his belief that it was a remarkable offer, she was disappointed. “Is something wrong?”
“No,” Abby said. “I just so wish Robert was still alive. He dreamed his entire life of having a breeding operation that would command this type of respect. He accomplished it but will never know it.” She shook her head sadly. “It’s moments like this that his death hits me particularly hard.”
Anthony’s lips tightened. “I know. His murder was such a tragedy.”
Abby nodded. “I’m glad Carrie was able to get away from the plantation for a while. I don’t know what she will decide to do when she returns from New Mexico, but it was important for her to have some distance.”
Anthony knew she felt she could talk freely because he had been there for her when her husband, Charles, had died from cholera, and she had supported him whe
n he had lost his wife and child. “Just as you had to move out of the house you shared with Charles.”
“Yes,” Abby agreed.
Anthony hesitated, not sure if he should ask the next question, but he felt powerless to remain silent. “I know it’s not likely, but has there been any word from Carrie, Matthew and Janie?” He thought lumping them all together would make his request a little less obvious. One look at Abby’s eyes told him it had been a futile effort.
“Actually, we had the surprise of a letter last week,” Abby revealed. She told him briefly about the blizzard, and about the family Carrie and her team had saved. “She asked the father to mail a letter for her when he returned to Independence.”
“They are doing well?”
“Besides being unendingly cold and wishing for a bath, they are all fine.”
Anthony raised a brow. “Carrie told you that?”
“Of course not,” Abby said ruefully. “It is not in her nature to complain, but I did enough research to know what life is like on a wagon train in the winter. All she told me is they are all fine, but missing us. I’m hoping that April has brought warmer weather to the Plains. They should be out of Kansas and approaching New Mexico by now.”
“I’m glad to know that, as of six weeks ago, they were all right.” He didn’t have to wait long for what he suspected was coming.
“Anthony…” Abby began hesitantly.
Anthony raised a hand. “You don’t have to tell me Carrie is not over Robert’s death, nor that she is certainly not ready or interested in another relationship. I already know that.”
“I’m glad you do,” Abby replied, her eyes still troubled.
“Don’t be concerned for me,” Anthony said. “I fell in love with Carrie the moment I laid eyes on her. I assumed at the time she was married, so I’d already told myself nothing could come from it. When I discovered Robert had been murdered, I also knew nothing could come from it. That can’t stop me from caring, however.”
