The week before, a telegram had come, and yesterday Timothy Eager had walked purposefully down the path to his parents’ cabin and embraced them. Tammy’s squeal of delight had blotted out her cries of terror over Washington’s hanging, at least for the time being.
“Tomorrow we’s killing the fatted calf and we’s havin a feast. Yessir, we is,” Sam had proclaimed.
Now every freedman, woman, and child on the plantation, along with Miss Lillian and Emily, gathered in the little church to celebrate. Timothy, a grown man of thirty, every bit as tall and sturdy as Leroy, stood beside his father, telling his story of being a slave on a plantation in Mississippi. A pig roasted on a spit outside, and vegetables and breads crowded the tables. Gladys had prepared five different pies, and now she stood, laughing and smiling, with Sam and Tammy.
Surrounded by the freedmen and women, Emily felt at home.
Sometime in the evening she made her way over to Leroy. “I’m so thrilled about Timothy’s homecoming.”
“Yes, Miss Emily. I ain’t seen Mama so lighthearted and joyous in a long, long time. Mebbe never!”
Emily could not imagine the emotions of being reunited with a loved one after twenty years. But she imagined very well sharing other celebrations with the Eagers in the future. And then she chided herself for such thoughts, even as she let her gaze linger on Leroy for a few extra seconds.
The meal had ended and dessert was being eaten when Father and Mother came into the small church. Emily braced herself for the reproach. But then she saw her mother walk over to the dessert-laden table and set something down. Her famous coconut cake! Mother, who had not baked a cake since the war began eight years before.
Emily watched in amazement as her father hurried to Sam and Tammy and embraced them both warmly.
“We are mighty thankful for this day,” Father said, first holding Sam by the shoulders and then repeatedly shaking his hand.
Mother held onto Tammy as tears streamed down her face. “Oh, Tammy! How we have prayed for this day. Our Lord has heard our prayers. Praise be his name.”
When Emily came up beside her father, he put his arms around her and kissed her softly on the head. In a voice cracking with emotion he said, “The good Lord has given us something to celebrate amidst all of the years of sorrow.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
THE DAY DAWNED WITH THE BRIGHT-BLUE COBALT SKY OF autumn and the sweet scent of fallen leaves, the perfect weather for a ride with Thomas. Now that he no longer spoke of marriage, Emily enjoyed her outings with her dear friend. Galloping behind Trooper, her face nestled in Brandy’s black mane, Emily momentarily forgot her fear of the Klan’s attacks, forgot the thrill of being close to Leroy. She was a young girl again, and the horrors of war and present difficulties did not exist.
It was almost like life before the war.
At last they slowed the horses and walked side by side. “What is the news from the freedmen, Emily?” Thomas asked.
Emily happily related the joyous reunion of Timothy with his family and the party that had ensued the night before. “Mother and Father participated. It was as if, as if they did see Sam and Tammy and the other freedmen as their equals. I was . . .” She searched for a word. “I was overcome.”
Thomas reached down and patted Trooper’s sweaty neck. “Give them time, Emily. Their world has changed dramatically. Your parents are fine people.”
“Yes,” she agreed. “As usual, I have been impetuous in my judgment.” After a few minutes of silence, she dared to broach the subject of politics. “I’m nervous about the presidential elections.”
“Understandably so.” Thomas met her eyes. His were impenetrable. “Do you believe your freedmen will vote in the elections?”
“I don’t know. The Klan’s continued violence has certainly intimidated some of them.” Then she thought of Colonel Willingham’s visits and his discussions of self-defense with Leroy and the others.
“I’m afraid that the Klan will be successful with their intimidation,” Thomas said.
“Wilkes County had over a thousand Republican votes cast in April for Governor Bullock. Many of those were black votes, Thomas.”
“Yes. But even though the ex-Confederates are still disenfranchised, I believe the results will be far different this time.”
“You think that the Negroes and white Republicans will stay home?”
“Yes. I fear the Democrats will carry the vote.”
“You fear that, Thomas? But you are a Democrat.”
The way he looked at her made her stomach turn. “Yes, my dear Emily, but I want you to be prepared for such a disappointment. Perhaps you will be able to convince your freedmen to be very careful.”
“What do you mean, Thomas?”
“I mean that I believe the Klan will do anything it takes to gain back its Democratic rule.”
She thought of his statement over and over that night. Was Thomas trying to warn her? Did he want her to warn the freedmen on the plantation? And if so, of what?
Emily could not grasp the news that Reverend Hill related to his members sitting in the pews of the First Methodist Church the next morning.
“I am distressed to tell you that the Jacksons’ plantation was visited by the Klan last night. Three Negroes were hanged, and Mr. Jackson was shot to death in front of his own family.”
Emily felt the blood leave her face. Mr. Jackson, a member of the church, was one of the few white plantation owners who was now a Republican, supporting black suffrage and equal representation.
Whispered words of shock and anger filtered through the congregation.
“Let us take a moment for silent prayer in memory of those who lost their lives. Let us pray for their families. Let us pray for peace during the elections on Tuesday.”
But though his voice communicated sorrow, in his gestures Reverend Hill did not seem sorrowful. Emily knew he was as much in favor of the Democratic return to power as anyone. While every head bowed, Emily wondered which of the members of the congregation were secretly thinking that if white supremacy had to be gained through terrorism, then so be it.
Thomas was waiting for Emily when she and her parents returned to the plantation after church. As she stepped out of the carriage, he approached, and she let him draw her into his arms. “How can it be true?” she said. “Please tell me it is just a rumor.”
Thomas led her to the rose garden where she sank onto a bench. “I thought nothing worse could happen than what they did to poor Washington. Can you imagine Mr. Jackson, as fine a man as there ever was, being shot in front of his family?”
She began to sob, so hard she could not stop herself. And although Thomas held her, he said nothing comforting. Rather, she felt him stiffen, felt his grip so tight on her arm that she cried out in pain. “Thomas, you’re hurting me.”
When she met his eyes, they were hard and angry and tired all at the same time. “I’m sorry, dear. Forgive me. Yes, what a shock. What an absolute shock for you. For all of us.”
But Thomas did not look shocked. He looked as if he knew exactly what had happened, and Emily could not tell if he was repulsed or secretly in favor of this atrocious act.
After sitting in silence for a few minutes, he said, “Even with this news, Mother still would like for you all to come to dinner on Wednesday evening.”
“We are planning to come. But some of us will be rejoicing in the election results and others lamenting them.”
“My hope is that we will be able to put politics behind us for one evening and simply enjoy one another’s company.”
Emily nodded, but she doubted that was possible.
He sighed heavily. “Do you think your freedmen will still vote?”
“I believe some of them will.”
Now Thomas looked desperate. “Then you must convince them to stay away from the polls. Try. Please, Emily.”
“What do you know, Thomas? What are you saying?”
“I’m saying that strong convictions can cause o
therwise good, fine men to do horrible things.”
Emily sucked in her breath. “You’re frightening me, Thomas. Even more than I already was.”
“I’m sorry, Emily. I am frightened too.” He looked away, toward the freedmen’s cabins, and ran his hands over his face.
“You look so tired, Thomas.” Indeed, he once again resembled the tormented young soldier who’d returned from the war.
He made no comment but gave her hand a kiss. “I must be getting home.”
Emily fled to the freedmen’s quarters and banged on the Eagers’ door. Tears streaming down her face, she cried to Tammy, “It is so awful about the Jackson plantation. Oh, Tammy.” She closed her arms around her friend’s thick waist, rested her head on the black woman’s shoulder, and cried.
“Good Lawd done see them men. Good Lawd the one to get retribution, Miss Emily. We cain’t fight them. They’s too many, too strong.”
“Please tell Leroy not to vote on Tuesday! Lieutenant McGinnis fears the worst from the Klan. And tonight, please tell everyone to be ready, in case there is violence. Tammy, I know the Klan is numerous, but the men have been preparing. Tell them to watch and pray!”
But Tammy was shaking her head, her face now covered with tears. “I kin tell them to be ready, yes I kin. But I cain’t make my Leroy listen to me, no sirree. Cain’t stop him from living out his convictions, Miss Emily.”
Tammy had lived with suffering all of her life. She had worked in the fields from the time she could walk and had buried three children as babies. And one as a young man, Emily thought. Tammy wasn’t afraid of suffering. She would not stop her son. If freedom meant death, the Eagers, and so many others, would choose death.
Tammy would not try to convince her son, and Leroy would not listen to his mother. Perhaps that was true. But he might listen to someone else. With Thomas’s dire words ringing in her ears, Emily determined she would find a time to make Leroy listen to her. Very soon.
CHAPTER TWELVE
THE NEXT MORNING MISS LILLIAN JOINED EMILY IN THE schoolhouse before the students arrived. Emily had never seen the Northern woman look so completely shaken. Her face was drawn and alarmed. Even in the worst times, Miss Lillian had modeled peacefulness. But not today.
“Emily, you heard that the Jacksons’ plantation was visited by the Klan Saturday night.”
Emily nodded. “Yes, I know of the horror.”
“I’m sorry to tell you the rest,” Miss Lillian said, her voice quivering. “My dear friend and teacher, Isabella Jenkins, was there when the Klan came. She recognized some of the men.” Miss Lillian reached out and held Emily to steady her. “She said she is sure that one was Lieutenant McGinnis.”
Thomas! Emily braced herself on one of the students’ desks. “That’s impossible. Simply impossible, Miss Lillian. Were not the men hooded? She could not know them for certain.”
“Yes, they were hooded. And on horses. She knows the lieutenant’s horse well. She has seen him before at the Jackson plantation.”
Emily felt her legs give out. Trooper. There was no mistaking Trooper.
“Perhaps someone else took the horse. Surely . . .”
“He’s faithful. That’s why I am the only one to ride him. He knows I trust him.”
“I know how you care for him. I’m sorry to tell you, but I felt I must warn you. You could be in danger too. If Lieutenant McGinnis knows of the goings-on with our Negroes here . . .”
“Thank you for telling me,” Emily whispered through the catch in her throat. It was all that she could get out.
It simply could not be true.
Somehow Emily got through the school day, numb. As soon as the children left the building, she walked in a daze in the empty cotton fields, trying to imagine it. Thomas a member of the Klan. Thomas riding Trooper to the Jackson plantation, along with a mob of other white-clad phantoms. Did his hand place the noose around the Negroes’ necks? Had his hand fired the gun that killed Mr. Jackson?
“I believe the Klan will do anything it takes to gain back their Democratic rule.”
Had he pronounced those words on their ride Saturday, knowing that he was planning on fulfilling them that very night?
Emily fell to her knees and vomited.
She tried to picture his face again as he sat with her in the rose garden the day before. Hard, angry, and definitely not surprised.
Oh, Thomas! Please, no.
And what had he said? He had looked at her with eyes worn from exhaustion. “Strong convictions can cause otherwise good, fine men to do horrible things.”
She sank onto the ground with feelings of love and rage battling in her heart. What should she do? Betray Thomas? Warn the freedmen? Say nothing?
Emily trudged up toward the Big House, tears streaming down her face. As she passed the schoolhouse, she saw a crowd of sober-faced freedmen entering the small building along with Colonel Willingham. She waited for them all to go inside, then stood outside the opened window, straining to hear.
“We must be on our guard tonight,” Colonel Willingham was saying. “With the election tomorrow and the murders at the Jackson plantation, I fear the worst.”
Just as Thomas had said.
“We will be ready tonight.” Leroy’s voice resounded, loud and confidant. “We cannot give in to terror. We must band together and encourage one another to vote. Tomorrow is the day.”
For a moment Emily heard nothing. Then a voice sounded in the stillness.
“Our families is afraid, you know it well, Leroy. Our women is beggin’ us not to go down to the polls tomorrow. They’s afraid it’s goin’ ta be jus’ like in Camilla. The Klan’ll be there to shoot and kill us. The women is terrified. We don’t want ta leave them to raise our chillen alone.”
Leroy’s voice didn’t waver as he replied. “I understand your fear. I still see Washington’s body swinging from the tree in my worst nightmares. But I will be going to the polls to vote. I promise you that. I will go.”
The sun was setting behind the bare fields as the men left the schoolhouse, each carrying a rifle. She supposed they would post an all-night vigil, awaiting the Klan’s visit.
Thomas, please. It cannot be true.
She needed to talk with Leroy, but her father would start to worry if she didn’t arrive at the plantation house soon. Anxiously, Emily waited for Leroy to exit with the others. When he did not, she entered the schoolroom where Leroy stood, alone, his back to her, his head bowed as if in prayer.
“Leroy?” she whispered, and he turned around.
“Miss Emily! What are you doing down here? It’s almost dark.”
“Yes, yes, I know. I must get up to the Big House. But . . .” She took a deep breath. “But I wanted to beg you not to vote. It’s too dangerous. I’m afraid for you, Leroy.”
“Klan wants us to be afraid. I’ve got to abide by my conscience, Miss Emily.” He gave a sad smile. “Don’t you be worrying for me. I’ll be careful.”
“But I love you, Leroy! I don’t want anything to happen to you!” Emily threw her arms around the broad black shoulders of her former slave.
Leroy quietly and quickly removed her arms, moved away from her, and turned his back. “Don’t you ever say those words again, Miss Emily. Them’s dangerous words. Go on!”
“But I know you love me! I’ve seen the way you look at me . . .”
At that Leroy turned around, terror on his face. He shook his head, and his tangled hair touched his shoulders. “I never looked at you no way, Miss Emily. You say that to anyone, they’ll hang me from the nearest tree and won’t need no Klan to do it.” Now his eyes were staring straight at the ground.
Emily stepped back, her face on fire. Foolish, foolish girl!
“I’m sorry, Leroy!” Her words came out in a gut-wrenching sob. “I didn’t mean it. No. Of course you’ve never looked at me.”
Her heart hammered in her chest, the only sound in the silent schoolroom.
He moved to the other side of the room,
eyes turned away from her. “Miss Emily, these are hard times, good times, too, with some possibilities for us freedmen still out there. And I aim to fight for our rights. But ain’t no time for a white girl to declare her love to a colored man. Ain’t evah goin’ ta be that time—least not in this future.”
Emily felt the slow crawl of humiliation cover her face, and she stared at the ground. Tears stung her eyes, and she again reprimanded herself for her foolishness. Now Leroy would hate her!
“You’ve been our friend for all these years, Miss Emily. You’ve worked with us, cared for us, fought for our rights, and taught us.” Now he turned back around, and his face was warmed by a smile. “You taught me to read my first word.”
She met his eyes, and they murmured in unison, “Free.”
Free.
It had seemed like such an appropriate word for him to learn back then.
“I’m mighty thankful for you, Miss Emily, for your teachin’. For your kindness. But all the good things you’ve done will be for naught if anyone ever suspects you have feelings for me. They’ll crucify me, Miss Emily. I swear they will.”
Now she could no longer keep the tears from spilling down her cheeks. She felt ripped in two and turned upside down.
“I’m so sorry, Leroy,” she whispered. It was all she could get out.
Leroy walked onto the porch, and Emily followed, the two standing on opposite ends.
Then he spoke again. “If times was different, Emily”—he pronounced her name in the softest of voices—“if they was different, I’d talk to you ’bout otha things. But they ain’t, and it’s dangerous to dream. Besides, you got a fine young man who loves you. I seen you two togetha.”
A fine young man! A member of the Klan!
She shook her head. She would tell Leroy about Thomas! And yet she hesitated as Leroy continued to speak. “And I am seeing a young woman in Atlanta. She was a former slave right here in Wilkes County on the Turner plantation.”
Emily felt faint with his words.
“Please, please let go of your dream and know how thankful I am for you, Emily.” Their eyes met, and she saw it there—the love, the sorrow, the understanding. For one brief second he touched her hand, and then he walked down the steps and back toward the freedmen’s cabins.
Among the Fair Magnolias Page 20
