A Love Woven True

by Judith Miller

  ‘‘You strike a bargain on Obadiah?’’ Mrs. Harshaw called down to her husband.

  ‘‘Quit your hollering, woman. I’ll talk to ya later.’’

  ‘‘You’ll talk to me now!’’ she said, jumping up from her chair.

  Jasmine stared after the woman as she stomped into the house and appeared downstairs beside her husband a few moments later.

  Mr. Harshaw pulled her aside, and the two of them moved away from Nolan and engaged in what appeared to be a less than amicable conversation.

  Nolan glanced up to the gallery and motioned for Jasmine to join him. When she and Spencer came alongside Nolan, Mr. and Mrs. Harshaw were still occupied with their private conversation.

  ‘‘Has he agreed to sell Obadiah?’’

  ‘‘Yes, but he insists we purchase Obadiah’s wife, Naomi, and their child.’’

  ‘‘Seems a strange request from a man such as Mr. Harshaw.

  While my father would never separate slave families, I have difficulty believing the Harshaws are concerned about preserving the sanctity of a slave’s family.’’

  ‘‘I don’t think this has anything to do with pleasing the slaves.

  Mr. Harshaw is anxious to be rid of Obadiah’s wife, Naomi. Seems Mrs. Harshaw has an intense dislike for the female slave. Harshaw says it has to do with his wife’s persistent and unfounded jealousy.’’

  Jasmine cupped her hand across her mouth and suppressed a giggle. ‘‘I’m sorry, but I can’t imagine Mrs. Harshaw as a woman concerned about losing her husband’s attentions.’’

  Nolan smiled. ‘‘Nor can I, but let’s not question our good fortune. I doubt whether Obadiah will consider us his benefactors if he’s forced to leave his wife and child with the Harshaws. I’ll strike a bargain for the three of them, and unless you’re inclined to accept the hospitality of the Harshaws, I suggest we go back to town and stay at the hotel. I’ll ask Harshaw to have one of his men deliver Obadiah and his family to us in the morning.’’

  Jasmine focused on the perimeter of the grounds and watched as a young woman carrying a child approached. ‘‘If Mr. Harshaw is giving special attention to Obadiah’s wife, I can now understand Mrs. Harshaw’s jealous reaction,’’ Jasmine whispered as the woman drew nearer. ‘‘She is a beautiful woman.’’

  The stark contrast of color among the small family was disquieting. While Obadiah bore the rich chocolate brown skin and onyx eyes of his mother, Naomi’s complexion was a soft, tawny shade and her eyes a golden brown. And the child—Jasmine couldn’t withhold her stare. The child’s limbs were skeletal and pasty—so pale, in fact, that had Jasmine not known better, she would have believed the boy to be white.

  The next morning Jasmine and Spencer joined Nolan in the small restaurant adjacent to their hotel. Once they had completed their breakfast, Spencer began fidgeting, obviously anxious to leave the table. ‘‘If you want to stroll around outdoors with Spencer, I’ll go to the loading dock and ascertain our departure time. Since we were detained an extra day, I’m hopeful your family’s cotton has been loaded and we can soon be on our way. Mr. Har-shaw or his overseer should deliver Obadiah at any moment.’’

  ‘‘I’ll watch for their arrival,’’ Jasmine said as they exited the small restaurant.

  Spencer toddled after a small frog he spied hopping in the roadway, giggling each time the creature would croak and jump.

  Enjoying the sight, Jasmine followed along behind him until she saw Mr. Harshaw jump down from his wagon in front of the hotel.

  She lifted Spencer into her arms and hurried forward, waving to gain his attention.

  ‘‘Mr. Houston has gone to the docks, but you may leave the slaves in my care,’’ she said as they approached.

  Giving her a look of disdain, Mr. Harshaw shook his head. ‘‘No chance you can control Obadiah if he decides to run. You gonna buy the shackles?’’

  Jasmine looked into the rear of the wagon. Iron hinges lined both sides of the wagon bed, with Obadiah secured to one of the hinges by a shackle encircling his leg. His other leg was shackled to Naomi. Jasmine recoiled at the sight. ‘‘Remove the irons. We’re not concerned that either of them will run. After all, exactly where would they go?’’ She leaned forward a few inches, as though preparing to include the man in some dark conspiracy. ‘‘To be completely honest, Mr. Harshaw, we don’t believe human beings should be restrained in any manner.’’

  Mr. Harshaw spit a long stream of tobacco juice and tugged at the unraveling hem of his silk vest. ‘‘Human beings? These here darkies are property—same as livestock, but I s’pose you can call ’em whatever you want—they’re yours. Mark my words, though, you’re gonna be sorry. First opportunity that comes along, they’ll run. Just don’t come back to me expecting your money back. You been warned,’’ he growled while unlocking the heavy irons that secured Obadiah and Naomi.

  ‘‘Thank you for enlightening me,’’ Jasmine replied.

  Two perpendicular creases formed between Mr. Harshaw’s eyebrows. ‘‘If I didn’t know you were a lady with proper manners, I’d think you were mocking me.’’

  ‘‘Why, Mr. Harshaw, why on earth would anyone consider scoffing at you—a man of obvious worth and distinction,’’ she said, her voice taking on a heavy Southern drawl.

  Loosening the final leg iron, Harshaw motioned the three slaves out of the wagon and then leveled a heated gaze at Jasmine. ‘‘Your husband needs to gain control over you, Mrs. Houston.’’

  ‘‘My husband is deceased, Mr. Harshaw. Nolan Houston is my late husband’s brother, not my husband.’’

  ‘‘With your lack of respect, it’s unlikely you’ll ever attract another,’’ he crossly rebutted. ‘‘I believe our dealings are complete.’’ He hoisted himself onto the seat of the wagon.

  Jasmine graced him with a demure smile. ‘‘Good day, Mr. Har-shaw.’’

  Several passersby had stopped to listen to the exchange and now stared at the strange-looking group. Obadiah’s strong arm now embraced Naomi, who held the emaciated child close to her breast, the two of them staring wide-eyed at Jasmine. Meanwhile, Spencer was tugging at Naomi’s tattered dress, obviously hoping to gain a better view of her child.

  ‘‘We need to talk,’’ she said to the slaves. ‘‘Let’s go over to those trees and sit down.’’

  She strode away, unsure whether they would follow, yet hoping her act would exhibit a level of trust. There was no indication they had moved along behind her, so she sat down, carefully arranging Spencer beside her before turning her gaze toward the street. They stood transfixed where she had left them. Jasmine smiled, motioned them forward, and then patted the grass beside her, hopeful they would take her cue.

  When Obadiah took Naomi’s hand and began walking toward her, Jasmine’s smile widened. ‘‘Please, sit down,’’ she encouraged as they grew nearer. ‘‘There are many things I want to share with you before we board the ship.’’

  Naomi’s lower lip trembled. ‘‘Where you takin’ us?’’

  ‘‘That’s what we need to discuss. discuss. Won’t you sit down?’’ Jasmine waited until they had arranged themselves beside her on the grassy mound. Immediately, Spencer got up and began tottering across the uneven terrain, obviously intent upon reaching Naomi and the child she held in her arms. ‘‘Spencer, come back and sit down.’’

  ‘‘I don’ mind. He’s jes curious,’’ she said, reaching out to take Spencer’s hand in her own when the boy stumbled. ‘‘You wanna see my little Moses, don’ ya?’’ she asked, her gaze fixed on Spencer. ‘‘Moses? That’s your little boy’s name?’’

  ‘‘Yessum,’’ Obadiah replied. ‘‘We’s all three got names from the Bible. When dis here youngun was borned, I tol’ Naomi he should be like his mammy and pappy—have a name from da Good Book.’’ His eyes shone with pride while taking in the sight of his wife and child.

  ‘‘That’s an inspired decision. Choosing a name from the Bible would have pleased your mother.’’

  ‘‘Don�
�� know nothin’ ’bout what would have pleased my mammy—never knowed her, but I do know Moses was a man used by God. If my boy lives, I’d like for him to be a man of God too. Maybe help free our people.’’

  Jasmine nodded. ‘‘I know that idea would have pleased your mother also. You see, Obadiah, your mother was my mammy from the time I was an infant. My father purchased her from Mr. Har-shaw when you were only a year old. My mother was ill and my father was looking for a wet nurse, but he didn’t believe in dividing families. Had he known you were alive, he would have insisted on purchasing you, but Mr. Harshaw told him Mammy’s child had died only days earlier and he was willing to sell her.’’

  Obadiah’s gaze filled with suspicion. ‘‘If dat be the truth, how come she didn’t tell your pappy once they left Harwood Plantation? And how come you know all dis now, but nobody knowed nothin’ afore?’’

  ‘‘Mammy never told anyone because Mr. Harshaw threatened to kill you. Even though she knew she couldn’t see you again, there was comfort in knowing you weren’t going to die. Your mother didn’t divulge your existence until just before she died. It was her final request that I find you and purchase your freedom.’’

  ‘‘Dat’s what dis is all about? So now we’s yours. Where you takin’ us dat we gotta get on a ship?’’

  Jasmine brushed a leaf from her blue plaid wool dress. ‘‘You aren’t required to go with us. Mr. Houston has your papers, and we plan to sign them, showing you’ve been freed. However, the last thing I want is to give you your freedom without helping you plan for a future. Otherwise, you’ll not survive. Remaining in the South would be far too risky. You’d be picked up and, papers or not, you’d be sold back into slavery. You know that’s true, don’t you?’’

  He lowered his gaze. ‘‘Yessum. So what you plannin’ for us?’’

  ‘‘Although I grew up in Mississippi and my family still owns cotton plantations, I no longer live here. When I married, I moved to Massachusetts.’’

  ‘‘Dat up north?’’ Obadiah asked, his eyes shifting to Naomi.

  ‘‘Yes. And although there are few Negroes living near my home, there are many people who are committed to aiding runaways and who are anxious to see slavery abolished. I thought perhaps you would want to come and live at my farm and work for me. It’s a horse farm, not a plantation, although I do have a vegetable garden,’’ she said with a smile. ‘‘There’s a small stone outbuilding where the three of you could live. If you decide to remain, we could build something more suitable.’’

  His brow furrowed. ‘‘Where else you think I might be wantin’ to go?’’

  ‘‘Most of the runaways we help don’t remain in the United States. They go farther north to Canada.’’

  ‘‘Um hum, I heard tell o’ dat place. Been three or four of Massa Harshaw’s slaves run off tryin’ to get north to dat place.’’ He wagged his head back and forth. ‘‘Dey never made it. Massa brung ’em back and whipped ’em till dey was near dead.’’ He massaged his forehead as though he could somehow erase the memory.

  ‘‘If you like, you could work for me until you decide. You would always be free to leave, Obadiah. There will be no shackles, no restrictions on your coming and going—you are all free to make a choice about where you will live and how you will earn a living.’’

  ‘‘Don’ think I’d be much use to ya, Missus. I don’ know much ’bout horses,’’ he said soulfully. ‘‘Massa was ’fraid we’d steal a horse and run off, so we didn’t do no tendin’ of the horses.’’

  ‘‘You can learn, Obadiah,’’ she said before turning her attention to Naomi. ‘‘If you’d like to earn money of your own, Naomi, I can always use help in the house and with Spencer. I’m hopeful Spencer and Moses will become good friends.’’

  ‘‘Moses be a sickly kind o’ chile. He don’ play much.’’

  ‘‘He does appear very thin. We’ll have the doctor see to him once we arrive home.’’ She took in the child’s sad eyes. ‘‘Does he eat well?’’

  ‘‘Massa force all the younguns to stay in the nursery, and dat fat ole woman he got watchin’ after dem chillens don’ care if dey eat or not. She lick their plates clean afore dey get much chance to eat. I tried complainin’ to Massa, but den dat ole woman in the nursery begun to hittin’ on Moses, so I was afeared to say no mo’.’’

  Jasmine gave her an encouraging smile. ‘‘We’re going to fatten him up in no time. Why, I’m certain he’ll be as big as Spencer within a few months.’’

  Naomi’s eyes sparkled and she leaned toward Jasmine. ‘‘Fo’ sure? You think dat’s possible?’’

  ‘‘I certainly do. Ah, here comes Mr. Houston,’’ she said, motioning toward Nolan as he walked toward them. ‘‘I’ll go visit with him while the two of you decide what you’d like to do.’’

  ‘‘No need, Missus. We’s gonna come with you. We ain’t willin’ to take our chances in dis here part of the country.’’

  Jasmine smiled. ‘‘I’m glad, Obadiah. Why don’t we go and join Mr. Houston? Once we’re on board ship, I want to spend some time telling you about your mother. She was a wonderful woman.

  I only wish she could have lived long enough to be reunited with you. I know she would be proud of you and pleased to know you are now a free man.’’

  ‘‘Dat would be nice,’’ Obadiah said.

  ‘‘Your mother came to Massachusetts and lived with me for a while,’’ Jasmine said as they approached Nolan.

  ‘‘Did she like it dere?’’

  Jasmine laughed. ‘‘She said the winters were too cold for her old bones. When we returned to Mississippi, she was ready to remain in the warmer climate. I was sorry to leave her behind when I returned home, but I saw her on each of my visits to The Willows. She was a wonderful woman who taught me many things. She loved to talk about Jesus. I was home when she died.’’ Jasmine looked up into the onyx-colored eyes that reminded her of Mammy. ‘‘I had returned to Mississippi due to my mother’s illness. It seems both of our mothers contracted yellow fever and never fully recovered. They died within only a few days of each other, and I know my life will never be the same without them. I’m so very thankful we were able to find you and I could do at least this much for your mother. I loved her very much.’’

  Obadiah hesitated, shuffling back and forth for a moment. ‘‘If you loved her so much, Missus, den how come you never did set her free?’’

  CHAPTER• 7

  Late February 1850

  SPENCER TOOK Jasmine’s hand, and together they walked the newly formed path between the main house and the brick and stone outbuilding now occupied by Obadiah and his family. Jasmine smiled down at her son. His sturdy legs appeared to lag behind his body, unable to keep pace and deliver him to his desired destination. He had struggled from Jasmine’s arms, determined to make the trek under his own power. Jasmine pulled her cloak more tightly around her body and shivered as a gust of wind stung her face. Spencer’s cheeks were a ruddy red by the time she knocked on the heavy wooden door.

  Naomi pulled open the door with Moses by her side. Both boys squealed in delight at the sight of each other and rushed forward as though they’d been separated for weeks. ‘‘You don’ need to never knock on the door, Missus. Jes’ come on in.’’

  ‘‘This is your home, Naomi. I would never consider entering without knocking, but thank you for your kind offer.’’

  ‘‘Here, let me hang up dat coat and get you warm by da fire.’’

  Jasmine handed Naomi her cloak and showed her a length of fabric she’d been carrying beneath it. ‘‘I brought you some material I had at the house. I thought you might want to use this for a dress, and this piece would make some fine new curtains.’’

  Naomi pressed her hand back and forth across the cloth, the flecks of gold in her brown eyes glistening. ‘‘Oh, Missus, I can’t afford to be buyin’ all this. Obadiah says we got to be careful with our money till we figure how to spend it proper.’’

  ‘‘This is a gift, Naomi. Please
tell Obadiah I insisted you accept it. Or I’ll tell him, if you prefer.’’

  Once again, Naomi gently touched the fabric, stroking it as though it were the finest silk. ‘‘I can tell him, but iffen he says I gotta return it, I hope you won’ be gettin’ angry with me. He already thinks you done too much for us. He says it ain’t natural for white folk to be so kind.’’

  ‘‘I wish I could argue that point, but I fear what Obadiah says is true. However, there are many white people who are working very hard with the Underground Railroad and are adamantly opposed to slavery in any form.’’

  Naomi glanced at the two boys as they sat playing side by side. ‘‘I don’ know nothin’ ’bout that, but I do know you been merciful to us. Jes’ look at Moses and how he’s growed since we come here to live.’’

  Jasmine turned her attention to the children, who were busily stacking small pieces of wood Obadiah had carved into various shapes and sizes. So light-skinned was Moses that when the boys’ hands were intermingled, it was difficult to tell them apart. ‘‘He’s grown nearly as big as Spencer. Why, by this summer, they’ll likely be the exact same size. I can’t tell you how much Spencer looks forward to his playtime with Moses.’’

  ‘‘Yessum. They sho’ do play good together. Obadiah says it was God’s plan for us to come here. He tol’ me ’bout how you wanted to free his mammy but you couldn’t ’cause o’ your husband.’’

  ‘‘It’s true that Bradley forced Mammy’s return to The Willows, but she was never my slave; I didn’t own her so I was unable to free her. She belonged to my father, who has never freed a slave.

  Even if I could have gained Mammy’s freedom, Bradley was insistent she return to Mississippi. To free her and leave her in the South with no means of support would have . . .’’