The Long Road Home Romance Collection

by Judi Ann Ehresman

  “The straw at this end of the wagon will soften the ride if you care to sit on it.” Mr. Traehdnik pointed to a pile of straw covered by an old blanket behind the driver’s seat.

  “Thank you, sir.” Jeremiah spoke for them both as he helped the wizened black lady toward the straw.

  As Mr. Traehdnik climbed into the driver’s seat himself, he snapped the whip above the heads of the horses, and soon the horses were trotting down the road. When they had passed by the auction area, he turned his head and looked at Jeremiah.

  “Jeremiah, is it?”

  “Yes, sir, Mr. Traehdnik.”

  “Jeremiah, I realize it is not the usual way, but I do truly prefer Wally to that long, austere name you’ve been calling me.” He actually smiled. “You’ll get used to it, son.”

  They had ridden on in silence for a spell. Then the gentleman spoke again. “Now, at Rose Hill Plantation you will discover we do things quite differently than at most places. If you will serve well, you may live and work on Rose Hill Plantation as long as you choose. At the end of each year’s harvest you will be given a wage. At the end of the fourth year you will have earned enough to buy your freedom if you so desire. I do not sell slaves. So, if you prefer to go your own way after the fourth year, you may turn your wages back over to me, and in return I will give you a document of freedom. At that time, if you choose your freedom, I will take you or see that you have transportation to wherever you wish to live. I recommend all freed slaves either remain as hired people on my plantation or that they move to the North as quickly as possible, because some down here in the South will not take your papers seriously, and you could find yourself back on the auction block.

  “Now, should you decide to stay on and work for me after the fourth year, your wages will be your own. You may marry and raise a family in safety on Rose Hill Plantation, and you may stay as long as you are happy.” He took a slow breath and then continued.

  “I do not believe in chains. You will notice they have been removed and you are free. If you find you do not care to work at Rose Hill Plantation, you are free to leave. However, as I mentioned before, each year you work with us and live at Rose Hill you will earn a wage, so give it some thought before you leave. If you do decide to leave before you have actually earned your freedom, you will not receive any papers of freedom, but I will not track you. You are God’s creation the same as I am, and I prefer to think of you as an indentured servant with a choice. I do not consider you to be my property.”

  Jeremiah had never heard of such a thing as this. Could this be the answer to his prayers? Would he truly be able to earn his freedom and go find Deidre and their child? Could he work here long enough to earn enough to buy their freedom? He had been silent as the thoughts raced through his head. What kind of place would he find this plantation to be?

  That had been nearly four years ago. Now Jeremiah was only a few weeks away from having his freedom, but Mr. Wally lay near death’s door in the big bed upstairs. Jeremiah was torn inside. Mr. Wally was a good man. His missus, Miss Sue Ellen, and all their children and the servants at Rose Hill needed Jeremiah. What was to come of them all now?

  Chapter 6

  Jeremiah could hear the rhythmic wailing in the distant fields. All the Negroes were on their knees praying that God would spare Mr. Wally. There was a hush in the house as the whisper of skirts brushed the floors and people moved in silence to accomplish the tasks that must have attention.

  He could hear Mammy’s soft baritone as she rocked one of the smaller Traehdnik children. He could hear the floor creaking as her rocker massaged the wide wooden boards slowly back and forth. He could imagine several of the children gathered at her knee as she comforted them. For the first time he found himself wondering if Mammy had any name other than Mammy. He’d heard she was born on this plantation and had helped raise Mr. Wally himself. She could have left years ago, but this was home for Mammy, and she wouldn’t have even considered leaving “her babies.”

  No one was working now on the plantation. All work had ceased the minute Mr. Wally had stood on the wagon, then grabbed his head and fallen off. He lay in a crumpled heap among the broken plants until Jeremiah had picked him up in his own arms and ran all the way back to the plantation house. As he passed the stables, he had yelled for Augustin to ride over to Doc Wyndsor’s and to not come back without the doctor.

  As Jeremiah ran into the front garden, he saw Miss Sue Ellen stand up on the front veranda and start toward him. “What is it? What happened, Jeremiah?” Her voice was a soft whisper as she searched Jeremiah’s eyes.

  “I don’t know, ma’am. He jes’ grabbed his head and fell off the wagon in a heap. I snatched him off the ground and carried him home. I sent Augustin for the doctor already.”

  “Will you carry him up to his bed, Jeremiah?”

  “Yes, ma’am. That’s where I’s headed.”

  When he laid Mr. Wally on his bed, Jeremiah was relieved to see that the man breathed evenly, even though his eyes were closed and his face was white as ashes. He helped remove his boots and then asked if there was anything more he could do.

  “Pray, Jeremiah. Just pray.” Miss Sue Ellen laid a soft white hand on his black arm.

  So now Jeremiah sat on the porch praying like he’d never prayed before. “Oh, God Almighty, don’t take this good man now. His family needs him, and we all need him. Please spare this good man, O God of heaven and earth.” He prayed the same prayer over and over in his heart as he held his head in his hands there on the porch with the sun shining as though all was right with the world.

  Darkness hovered over the earth as the sun disappeared slowly below the scraggly surface of the cotton fields to the west of the plantation. Dusk. That was what this moment of near darkness was called. Jeremiah still sat on the porch watching for the doctor to come help Mr. Wally. Dusk described his heart now as it hovered between fear and the calm assurance that God was still in control.

  Slowly Jeremiah pulled himself to his feet. Mr. Wally trusted him to watch over the other Negroes and see that all was well. He must go back to the Quarters, but he didn’t want to leave here before he knew, before he had some kind of news to tell the black folks who loved this man and served him willingly.

  As he leaned indecisively with one hand pressed against the smooth white pillar of the front veranda, he thought he heard a new sound that pulled itself apart from the stillness surrounding him. He listened until he knew it was the gallop of a horse on the hardened sand of the lane leading up to the plantation house.

  Jeremiah started down the steps to take the horse as the good doctor flung his leg over the side and ran toward the house in one liquid movement. The horse’s sides heaved heavily. Jeremiah laid his hand gently beside the creature’s face momentarily to calm him. Then he gently led him over to the cistern and let him drink from the trough before taking him into the barn to be rubbed down and cared for. Soon after they entered the darkened barn, he heard the slower gallop of Augustin’s horse as they made their way home.

  Jeremiah continued to pray for Mr. Wally and for the doctor as he lit a lantern and cared for the horse. He felt still inside, his whole being a prayer offered up to God. Each step on the straw in the stall sent up the barn odors of aged wood, animals, and warm, clean straw, which altogether seemed to be almost an incense offered with his prayers.

  Doc Wyndsor’s horse chomped comfortably on the oats that Jeremiah had given him. His sides had finally stopped heaving. Jeremiah knew the animal could handle more water now, but Jeremiah felt frozen to the spot. His right hand rested on the horse’s side, his forehead leaned on the horse’s neck, and his left hand lay still at the base of the horse’s neck. Not since he’d been ripped away from his precious wife had Jeremiah cried real tears, but now they ran down the side of the horse’s neck and splashed into the straw. His prayer turned into groans of agony.

  He didn’t even hear Augustin enter the barn and care for his own horse. As Jeremiah’s sobs eventually quie
ted, Augustin spoke softly behind him. “Is he livin’, Jeremiah? Is there any hope?”

  Jeremiah could hear the fear in Augustin’s voice. He rubbed the tears from his face with his large hands and turned to the boy. “I think he’s livin’, Augustin. But somethin’s awful bad wrong with him. We must all be prayin’. Miss Sue Ellen needs him and those chil’ren need him, and so do all of us. He’s a good man, and I pray God’ll spare him for us. This ol’ world needs more like him—not less.”

  “I’ll be prayin’ jes like ever’one is. They’s all prayin’, Jeremiah.” The young boy looked up with a face full of faith. “Remember what y’ tol’ us before. Where two or three agree, God’ll answer.” He was quiet for a couple of seconds. “Listen, Jeremiah. Y’ hear them slaves prayin’ out there? We’se agreein’ and God be hearin’. He’ll answer, Jeremiah. He’ll answer.”

  They were silent, listening together to the distant sound of the Negroes as they lifted their voices as one to the heavens.

  At that moment Jeremiah felt God’s peace spread throughout his being like a warm liquid. He knew God had heard their prayers. He lifted his bowed head and laid a hand on the shoulder of the young man before him. “Yes, Augustin, God’ll answer. Don’t ever stop believin’ that. He may not answer the way we think He should, but He’ll answer. That’s for sure. Thanks for remindin’ me, Augustin. You’ve been a messenger from God, and I truly thank ya.”

  The two stood together for a few more moments, Jeremiah’s large hand covering Augustin’s slim shoulder. Man and boy. Grief, fear, faith, and love were their bond. Jeremiah smiled a slow, sad smile. “God’s hearin’, Augustin. He’s hearin’ and He’s already answerin’. I know it here.” He laid his hand over his chest as he looked confidently into the younger man’s eyes.

  Augustin nodded. “I know it, too.” It was a reverent whisper.

  Jeremiah turned thoughtfully toward the big house. “I’s goin’ up to the house to see what the doctor has to say. Keep prayin’, and I’ll be back to tell ya whatever I find out.”

  Augustin nodded silently. Jeremiah turned to go. His steps were heavy and slow at first, but as he neared the house they changed to a hurried walk.

  Standing silently in the doorway of the room where Mr. Wally lay, Jeremiah held his hat tightly over his heart with both hands. Miss Sue Ellen and Doc Wyndsor were talking quietly by the bay windows on the far side of the bedroom. Several lamps were lit around the well-appointed room, and the flames flickered, causing quiet movement of shadows and a reverent hush in the room.

  As he watched the drama unfolding within that room, Jeremiah knew he was a needed and indeed important part of the future of the plantation. Mr. Wally had entrusted Jeremiah with much of the overseeing and had shown a great respect for Jeremiah’s knowledge and ability, leaning heavily on him for many of the decisions.

  While Jeremiah watched quietly, Mr. Wally’s head slowly turned toward the doorway as though he knew Jeremiah was there. Slowly his eyes opened and in a few moments cleared as they focused on Jeremiah.

  The big black man quickly went into the room and knelt by the bed, gazing into the eyes of this good man whom he loved like a father. Quietly, Jeremiah spoke. “I’ll take care of things, Mr. Wally. You jes’ get well. Don’t you worry none.”

  Mr. Wally looked over Jeremiah’s head, just as Jeremiah felt a soft hand on his shoulder. Swiveling slightly, he saw Miss Sue Ellen standing beside him.

  “Jeremiah, a couple days ago Wally told me your time with us was nearly up and he suspected you would go find your family. He wants you to be happy. I don’t know how we’ll get along without you. He was grieving the loss already, but he wants you to be happy.”

  The silence was thick in the room. They all forgot Doc Wyndsor was even there as the weight of the future lay on all their shoulders—not only the future of the plantation and the family, but of all the Negroes who considered this place their home.

  Jeremiah bowed his head while he thought of all his responsibilities. He thought of Deidre and their child. He thought of Miss Sue Ellen and the young family here, as well as the multitude of happy Negroes who lived and served here. He saw in his mind’s eye the fields that stretched for miles, the gardens, the stables, and barns. What would happen to this wonderful place if he left now? Slowly he lifted his head and said with reserve, “Don’t worry none, Mr. Wally. I won’t go nowhere until this place can keep runnin’ without my help.” His voice became stronger as he continued. “You jes’ gets yerself well and then we’ll talk.”

  Mr. Wally’s eyes rested on his face for a few moments more, then closed slowly. The slightest smile turned up one side of his mouth ever so slightly, and he breathed deeply.

  “I don’t know how we’ll ever thank you, Jeremiah.” Miss Sue Ellen spoke from behind him, and he could hear the tears in her voice. “We’ll make it up to you. Of that you can be certain. You are all so good to us.”

  Jeremiah marveled at that statement all the way back to the tidy village where the Negroes lived at this plantation. He had stopped by the stables to let Augustin know that Mr. Wally was resting well and that they must all work hard while he was ill. Jeremiah knew that every Negro on Rose Hill Plantation would give their own soul for the Traehdnik family. He knew they would keep the place running smoothly, but Miss Sue Ellen’s statement about the slaves being good made him smile. It sure was easy to be good to good folks like the Traehdniks. It sure was easy.

  Chapter 7

  The cabin was warm in spite of the opened windows and doors as Deidre baked and cooked for the hungry men who would be working on building the new wing on the cabin that day. She wanted to get the hottest part of her work done before the sun added to the heat, and she was again thankful for the thick log walls as well as the porch roofs that overhung the windows on the south and north sides of the cabin. Ethan had thought it out well and had built a comfortable home for his family.

  Suddenly Jeddy came running into the house with Daniel close on his heels. “They’re comin’, Momma! I hear ’em. They’re comin’!”

  Before she could even respond, he had turned and run back to wait on the front steps beside Daniel for his friends to come. She saw Ethan lay down the load of wood he had carried to the porch for her and then head out to the front as well.

  Smiling to herself, she thought of how surprised Edna and the girls would be when they saw the new babies in the household. Suddenly her heart lurched as she wondered if she would ever bear another child. Would she and Jeremiah ever find one another and continue their own family?

  “Pray, girl. Just keep on prayin’,” she muttered to herself softly. She sent another prayer up for her dear husband’s protection and that God would guide them back together soon. But something in her heart told her it was not to be yet. “But I’ll keep on prayin’.” She said it out loud as she firmly placed the last plate on the stack in the cupboard. “I won’t quit prayin’ until I see his handsome face.”

  Deidre stood in the doorway wiping her hands on her apron as she watched the Browning children scrambling over one another to get out of the wagon. She smiled as she listened to the happy noise of eight or ten voices all talking simultaneously. The babies would have a noisy first day in this world, she thought. But it was such happy noise that no one minded at all.

  Ned reached up to help his beautiful wife out of the wagon. The older girls still held back shyly, waiting for their mother before starting toward the cottage. Deidre saw they had all brought handwork and knew it would soon be ignored when they saw the babies.

  As Edna started toward the porch, Deidre noticed how full the woman’s slender figure had become around the middle. It looked like they’d be having some news of their own to share on this happy day.

  “Is Mandy doing well?” Edna asked as the two women embraced.

  “Come on in and see for yourself.” Deidre winked at Elizabeth, also known as “Betsy,” the oldest of the eight Browning children, over her mother’s shoulder. Betsy raised her eye
brows and smiled as Deidre gave a slight nod and ushered them into the cabin.

  Once inside, Deidre took the bowls of food they carried and placed them on the table before she motioned for the children to move to the open bedroom doorway. Esther had already gone in, and they heard Mandy shushing her squeals of delight until the others could see the surprise for themselves.

  Before she joined the commotion in the bedroom, Deidre checked to see that the little boys were out of the way of the men who would be working on the house. She walked to the door in time to hear Ned telling Clint and Benjamin, the two youngest Browning boys, that they must keep Jeddy and Danny away from the working men, and the four little boys grinned as they looked at one another, nearly bursting with the excitement of a whole day to play together.

  Edna, Deidre, and Betsy had helped Mandy come out to sit in the rocker in the front room when they were ready to do needlework that morning. Now it was time to finish the lunch preparations, so they helped her back into her bed so she could feed the babies and rest for a while, as she looked quite worn out from all the excitement.

  Betsy suggested they carry the table out under the shade of a tree for a picnic lunch instead of staying inside on such a beautiful day. All the women thought it was a delightful idea, so Betsy and her sisters, Ellen (or “Ellie” as the family often called her lovingly) and Esther (or “Essie”), managed to set the table up under a large chestnut tree at the side of the clearing. They spread a tablecloth on top and then dragged the wagon blankets over near the table and spread them under the shade of various trees nearby.

  A light wind played with the edge of the tablecloth as Deidre set the first of several pots on the table. She paused briefly to savor the cool kiss of the breeze on her hot cheeks. Lifting her face toward the sky, she let it cool her long, slender neck as well. She listened to the sounds of the men’s axes as they chopped out the notches on the logs where they would be fitted together. A solid grunt seemed to accompany almost every chop as muscles first tensed and then relaxed and the ax came down with a firm thud. Those men and teenage boys were working hard for her; her heart swelled with gratitude to them and to God for bringing her to this place. She looked around just in time to see Edna bringing more food for the table. She waited to help her friend, and then the two women walked back to the house arm in arm.