“What’s to stay here for with you gone? The damn Yankees have taken over everything. I love Mississippi but until they thin out the….” She looked him straight in the eye. There was determination in her voice. “I’ve never even seen the gulf. It’s high time I make my own decisions. I’m going.”
“It’s summer,” Benjamin said impatiently. “The most dangerous time for Comanche attacks. It isn’t safe to travel through those hills even in dead of winter. The outlaws….”
“Why do you always look on the dark side? Don’t try to scare me. Think of the fun and adventure I’ll have. I’ve never been out of Warren County.”
Benjamin snorted. “That’s what I’m afraid of…the fun you’ll have with Morgan.”
“If you decide that you really love me, come for me when you graduate. I’ll be waiting, “ she told him.
Benjamin was silent while she rambled on excitedly. “I go by ship to Galveston. Then by train to Burnett and from there by modern stagecoach.”
Benjamin shook his head. “The mode of travel from Burnett will be oxcart. There’s no stage line into that little burg. The Butterfield Stage takes a different route.”
“How do you know?”
“Corley Edwards told me.” He took both her hands in his. “I just asked you to marry me. Isn’t that important to you?”
“Of course. It’s the reasons that I find hard to fathom.” Dayme broke a twig off the tree and stripped the leaves, crushing them in her hand. “Why am I the sinner when it takes two? I wasn’t your first, Benjamin, yet you go Scott free. I know about Holly, too. She’s been your mistress for years. Men…why do men have a different code of ethics? Why can men frequent taverns, but it’s off-limits to women? It’s an accepted custom for men to have mistresses and concubines outside of marriage. They’re not gossiped about. They’re not condemned.”
“It’s different with men.”
“Is it? Women have feelings, too. Yet young ladies must wait for marriage, smother their feelings of femininity, or their reputations are ruined. Yet boys are encouraged to test their manhood. Nothing fair about it.”
Benjamin smiled wryly, trying to figure the girl out. “I didn’t make the rules. That’s just the way it is. A man who truly loves his wife will never force his attentions. There’s a vast difference in our anatomy.” Try though as he did to be patient with the girl, he thought about Morgan at the end of her journey. And he thought about the men aboard the riverboat who were just waiting to take advantage of this beautiful, childlike creature who was so resolved to assert her personal independence. “Gentlemen expect their wives to be virgins when they marry,” he explained gently. “They don’t marry women like Holly. Perhaps propriety will overlook the extenuating circumstances at Macy’s during the hard times of the war years, but that spectacle you made of yourself tonight was your choice. Thank goodness, it didn’t happen in Vicksburg. I’m willing to take responsibility for my actions. I offer you a special place in my life…running my household, ordering my servants and rearing my children. All I own I will share with you. What more could you want?”
“On your terms, I suppose.”
“Of course.”
“Must you be so stuffy and old-fashioned? This is 1866, not the dark ages. The world is changing. We women are becoming disenchanted with the role men have given to us. It’s almost like slavery…always behind a man, never in front or even beside him. One day our voices will be heard. We refuse to be quiet until we gain our suffrage rights. We will gain our voting rights some….”
Benjamin laughed and was still chuckling when he spoke. “You have the strangest way of floating off-course. Not if I can help it, my dear. Politics is a man’s game. Can you imagine what would happen if all the women started wearing trousers, took over men’s jobs and deserted their homes? Who would rear the children? What would happen to the marriage relationship? No…uh-uh, my stubborn little shrew. A good woman looks after her husband, her family, and her home. If women ever do reverse roles, heaven help us all.”
“It’s pointless to argue with a man so set in his opinions,” Dayme retorted. “Anyway, what about Molly? You never did answer me.”
“What about her?”
“How would you feel if you saw her again?”
In all honesty, Benjamin didn’t know how he’d feel. He was slow to answer, too slow, in Dayme’s opinion. “That question is not quite fair. I have loved Molly for such a long time that I can’t even remember when it all began.” He sighed deeply. “I can’t find her. I have no idea where she is. You’re the object of my affection now.”
“Are you sure? Dead sure?” Dayme prodded. “Maybe you should find Molly and make damn sure. You’re making me ‘any old port in a storm’ since you can’t find Molly.” Even in the moonlight, Benjamin saw a flash in the girl’s eyes. “I sure as hell wouldn’t want to spend the rest of my life playing proxy for Molly. I’ll be damned if I do!”
Benjamin winced each time Dayme used even the slightest profanity, but he dared not attempt to correct her. The situation was far too fragile. “Now who’s getting jealous?” he teased.
“Well, I’m not willing to share my man with anyone…not Molly…not Holly…nobody. I don’t want you running into Molly someday and wishing you’d married her. It could ruin our lives. You find that proper little thing and choose between us. If you still want me then, come for me in Texas and court me proper.” She shuddered and her eyes welled with tears. “Perhaps we shouldn’t correspond until you know. Don’t you see? You have too many ‘reasons’ to marry me, Benjamin, and I’ll settle for only one. You want to protect me from myself, keep a promise to a dead man, because I’m here and Molly’s gone, and because of your damned honor. The idea,” she said with disgust, “feeling guilty for being human.”
“I took your virginity,” she mocked, “so I’m willing to pay for it the rest of my life.”
Benjamin’s fierce pride took control. “Don’t say I didn’t ask you. It’s now…tonight…or perhaps never. Which will it be?”
In spite of the warm summer night, Dayme felt an icy chill race through her body. “All my life I’ve been under a man’s control,” she said softly. “First my father, then Tom Macy, then you. It’s high time I took control of my own destiny. I don’t answer to ultimatums, Benjamin. I insist on being courted proper before I marry.”
“You need to be under somebody’s control,” Benjamin replied dryly. “After that risque song, every man on the ship thinks you’re a bawd. Are you actually that naive? Do you think you’ll command respect the rest of the voyage?”
“You don’t approve of me. You never have. You don’t trust me. You….”
“I do not approve of your stubbornness, your attitude toward propriety or this hair-brained trip.”
As the argument continued, Dayme became more and more confused. One thing she knew, he’d given her every reason in the world except the one she really wanted. Not once had he told her he loved her, and that was the only reason she’d listen to. “Oh Benjamin,” she cried. “I love you and I hate you. I don’t approve of your attitude toward slavery…it’s wrong, you know…or a women’s place. Your warped sense of duty and honor is your biggest crime. You’re guilty of the crime of ‘honor in the first degree’!” Though her heart kept yelling ‘yes’ to his proposal, something deep within her soul, a stubborn indefinable something made it impossible for the girl to humble herself and succumb to his wishes. She stood up erect. “Like I said. I don’t answer to ultimatums. The decision is yours. You decide…Molly or me. Come for me next May if you choose me. I’m going to see my folks, and you can’t stop me.”
Benjamin’s jaw set doggedly. “I’m through making promises,” he replied angrily. “If you persist in leaving on this riverboat, don’t count on it!” His voice turned sarcastic, cruel. “You bet I’ll try to find Molly! If you cared enough, you’d stay at Larkspur until I finish college. Bon voyage.”
The apprentice pilot sounded the ship’s whistle. It
was departure time. “Apparently, you’ve made your choice,” he told her coldly. “You have first class passage for this stupid venture.”
“It’s not stupid,” she insisted. “Uncle John and Aunt Florence are the only family I have left. Thanks for the offer, but I will work my way.” The ship’s whistle sounded again. “I must go.” She lifted her lips for a final kiss. Benjamin was so angry that he kissed her hard, almost brutally.
“Remember this,” he called as she boarded. “Whatever happens, I asked you to marry me.” He grinned wryly. “By the way, you don’t have a job. The captain just fired you.”
“He what? Damn you,” Dayme fumed. “How…?”
“I have connections,” he replied smugly as he walked into the darkness toward the railroad station and the ship pulled away from the dock. He glanced over his shoulder for one last glimpse of the slender silhouette standing in the light of a torch basket, watching him out of sight
Chapter 15
DECEMBER AT LARKSPUR PLANTATION
It wasn’t the jubilant departure the Floyd family had pictured in their minds but quite the contrary. They wept as they loaded the wagon and said goodbye to dear old friends. The possibility of ever seeing each other again was remote. It was more difficult than they had expected, leaving the beautiful Big Black River bottomland for the strange and unknown ahead.
“Here’s you boys some Christmas goodies,” Cassie told them hoarsely with a lump in her throat. “Baked ’em special.” The old woman handed up a flour sack half-full of sugar cookies to Alfie and Jacob.
Logan loaded a wooden wheelbarrow and a wagon that he had hand-carved and put together with wooden pegs. “St. Nick left this early,” he told the twins.
Agnes gave Lucy a gold locket that Mrs. Farrington had given her on her wedding day. Inside was a picture of her and Ike. “This is so you won’t ever forget us. Write to us, Lucy…you hear?”
Tears filled Lucy’s eyes as she hugged Agnes. Her voice was low and husky. “We could never forget any of ya’ll. I’ll treasure this locket always.” She clutched the locket and climbed aboard.
Earlier, Luke and Ike gave Joe a hand-tooled leather holster for his rebuilt army pistol, and Mandy gave them a warm comforter. Lazarus and Rachel presented them with a compass, and Rufus gave them an old and weathered Bible. “It’s a keepsake,” Rufus told them, his voice quavering. “B’longed to Delilah, rest her soul. The word helped my Delilah cross the mighty river. May it help ya’ll, too.”
The family had already said goodbye to Mose, who was sick in bed. Still the ailing old fellow managed to cripple up to the wagon to see them once more. His hand shook when he reached to hug Jacob. The youngster had been Mose’s favorite since he was a toddler following along behind him. He fumbled in his shirt pocket for his French harp, and his faded eyes misted. “You take it, son…make music along the way, boy. I don’t need it anymore. The Good Bein’s fixin’ to give me a brand new harp t’ play nohow.”
Jacob hugged Mose’s neck with affection. He didn’t grasp the undertone. “Oh boy! Thank you, Uncle Mose. A big harp like Miss Eppson plays, huh? Wish I had one. You’re lucky…mighty lucky, Uncle Mose.”
“You’ll get a big one, boy, one o’ these days. Jesus gives harps t’ all his own. When you do, we’ll play together.”
Jacob looked somberly at Mose. “I’d like that a lot, Uncle Mose. Wish you were goin’ with us. Gonna miss you a lot.”
It had been an effort for Mose to rise from his sick bed to see the family off. The dying man hurt so badly in the lower abdomen that he had one hand inside his belt, holding his side. He handed a wrinkled sack of licorice sticks to Alfie and hugged him. “Can’t go wid you, boys. Gotta take a long trip across the mighty river real soon.”
Jacob didn’t understand. “We’re crossin’ the mighty Mississippi today, Uncle Mose. Why don’t you come with us?”
Mose shook his hoary head, and his tired eyes swam in tears. It was difficult to control his voice. “Let yo’ brother play that French harp from time t’ time. Learn Alfie like I done learn’t you. Play it fo’ yo’ mama ‘n papa.”
Joe was the last to board the newly painted green wagon. The men folks held their hats in reverent silence, and the women and children cried as Logan led the group in prayer for the family’s safety on the long, hazardous journey. As the wagon wheels rolled down the dusty lane, the Floyd family heard their friends singing, “When We All Get to Heaven” until they rounded the curve out of hearing distance.
Wild game was plentiful, and streams teemed with fish throughout Louisiana and Texas. Some days the mules could make only about nine to twelve miles in rough country. On smooth terrain, eighteen or twenty. However, when they reached the Texas hill country, they were lucky to make three or four miles a day.
In some east Texas towns and villages not occupied by U.S. Militia to protect the former slaves, die-hard rebels had erected crude signs reading “Black Man Don’t Let the Sun Go Down”. They were unwelcome in stores and restaurants along the route. Once out of East Texas, Negroes were an oddity. Small children clung to their mothers’ skirts in awe and fear of the strange black people. The Floyd family pushed onward, camping outside of towns and villages beside streams whenever possible.
Joe purposely stayed off the main highway. A friendly rider near Fredericksburg warned him of the perils ahead. There were outlaw villages in the hills, the rider told Joe…dangerous on the main highway in the hill country close to the frontier edge. From that point, they used the compass to travel cross-country, skirting around villages altogether. Joe took the easiest route he could find in the canyon country, but the ride was most difficult at best. Shoals had to be found to cross the many streams. The four mules had to be whipped into a run to pull the wagon up the high hills, most so steep that Lucy and the twins had to walk. Joe felled trees to clear the upward path and tied a tree behind the wagon while he braked to slow the descent.
The land had an awesome beauty even in the dead of winter…deep canyons and evergreen forests abounded with wildlife. The twins set quail traps near the campsites. Apple boxes were covered with screen wire and propped up with sticks with heavy twine strings attached. The youngsters baited the traps with crumbs. They waited until the birds came to feast, jerked the string and trapped them.
February found the family in rugged, cedar country north of Kimbleville, Texas where they met a harsh winter storm with driving sleet and snow. The family was forced to camp early in the day and take cover. Their camp was located about five miles from the Gentry Creek settlement near the north Llano River’s junction with Bear Creek. The storm took the pioneers by surprise. A false spring led them to believe that winter was over. Only yesterday, the weather was warm and balmy. Today, wild plum and redbud blossoms hid beneath blankets of ice.
Alfie was already coughing when they made camp, but he helped his brother gather firewood. Joe parked the wagon south of the campfire flames for warmth and some protection from the fierce north wind. Inside the wagon with only canvas between them and the ferocious sleet storm, the family huddled together wrapped in quilts. A Dutch oven on the coals outside was filled with simmering venison stew and coffee bubbled in the big black pot. Alfie’s hoarse, hacking cough worsened toward dusk and the child developed a hot burning fever. He could hardly breathe and talked nonsense in delirium.
“What are we goin’ to do, Joe?” Lucy’s luminous brown eyes reflected deep trouble. “Alfie needs a doctor. He’s never been this sick before. I don’t know what to do.”
Lucy held the lamp close while Joe scanned the map for their location. “The Gentry Creek Settlement is over the hill yonder a few miles. I’ll go fetch help…a doctor if I can find one.” The troubled man threw a blanket over one of the mules and rode bareback through the icy cedar forest. Blowing sleet froze his beard, and his face was wind-burned and chapped. It seemed he would never reach civilization.
Finally, Joe saw dim lamplight in the distance. Six men were inside the log cabin salo
on when the Negro burst through the door, slamming it fast behind him. Inside was a bartender, four men playing poker and a heavy-lidded cedar hacker standing at the bar. Heads turned and stared at the near-frozen black man who rushed to the pot-bellied stove to warm himself.
“Got an awful sick boy out in the woods,” Joe explained. “He could die unless I find somebody who knows what to do for him.”
“Boy,” the cedar hacker drawled. “There ain’t a nigger doctor in these parts. The only medicine man around here is Doc Latham yonder. He doctors sick horses, cows and white people. He’s a veterinarian.”
Joe Cross glared at the insulting white man, but there wasn’t time to argue the racial issue. Alfie was too sick. He headed straight for the gamblers and the man pointed out as Doc Latham.
“Can’t go out on a night like this, boy,” Doc Latham told him. “I’d catch my death of cold. Do you realize it’s fifteen degrees outside and sleeting?”
“Yeah,” Joe said grimly. “Reckon I ought to. I just rode through it. My son is sick, sir…real sick. He’s got a hot fever, hoarse cough and talkin’ out of his head. He’s gonna die for sure if you don’t help me.”
It was Doc Latham’s deal. He didn’t answer the Negro man until after looking at his cards. He had three deuces and a pair of tens. “I’m runnin’ a streak of luck, boy. These other fellars will have my hide if I quit while I’m winnin’. It’s your bet, Hollis.” Doc raised the bet when it came his turn, paying no heed to the black man’s plea.
Joe gritted his teeth in disgust. “If it was a white child out yonder dying in the forest, you’d go, wouldn’t you, Mr. Doctor? What about the Hippocratic oath you took?”
The heavy-lidded man at the bar snickered. “Well now, what we got here…a educated nigger?”
Joe’s patience was at an end. He whipped out the army pistol from under his heavy overcoat. “Don’t ever call me nigger, mister! I’m not a boy either. I’m a man…made in the image of God same as you people.”
Child of the River Page 16
