“So where is everybody?” John Henry said, coming into the house and seeing no sign of Tom’s brother Will, who was a partner in the farm, or his unmarried sisters who lived there as well.
“Will’s taken the girls off to visit with your Uncle James and Lorena. Won’t be back ‘till Sunday, so I guess it’s just you and me this trip. Hope you don’t mind bein’ entertained by a bachelor.”
“I don’t mind,” John Henry said. “You know you were always my favorite McKey uncle, anyhow.”
Tom smiled back at him, and John Henry was struck as always by how much Tom favored the McKeys—and Alice Jane in particular. For though he had his own bright red hair and fair skin, he had his older sister’s deep blue eyes, her gentle smile. John Henry was right to have come here looking for some bit of his mother remaining. And there was more than just the family resemblance; Tom was a great collector of photographs, and had a wall full of them. There, gazing out from silvery frames, were Tom’s brothers and sisters: Martha, Margaret, Helena, Ella, and Eunice, Alice Jane and Henry on their wedding day, James Taylor and William Harrison in their Confederate uniforms—and Jonathan Leval, the oldest son who’d gone west to Texas years before. John Henry stared at the photograph of that handsome young man and studied the face, familiar McKey features and a stranger’s eyes.
“I never knew Uncle Jonathan much,” he said to Tom. “What was he like?”
“Jonathan? I guess you could say he was adventurous, always lookin’ for the next big dream to follow. He heard about all that land goin’ for nothin’ out in the Republic of Texas and there was no keepin’ him home. He headed for that Brazos River country and never looked back. Last time we heard from him, he was growin’ cotton on a big spread in Washington County, makin’ a fortune, I reckon. ‘Course the way those Texans talk, everybody out there is livin’ in high cotton, gettin’ rich.”
“Texas sure sounds good to me right now,” John Henry said heavily, “just pack my bags and head on west as far as I can go . . .” Then a sudden thought came to him. “Hey Tom, let’s go west! Just you and me! Have us some adventures, maybe go all the way to that gold country in California! Just think of it: the whole wide open west just waitin’ for us, and all we have to do is get on a train and keep on goin’! How does that sound to you?”
Tom laughed. “Sounds like a nice dream, John Henry. But I’ve had enough adventures in my life already, what with the War and all. Besides, I’ve got other plans.” And surprisingly, Tom looked suddenly bashful. “I’ve made a proposal and been accepted. It’s someone you might know, a piano student of your mother’s, Miss Sadie Allen.”
John Henry let out a whistle. “Sadie Allen! Why, I went to school with her brothers. Isn’t she kind of young for you?”
“I’m not so old, John Henry. Only nine years older than you. But the wedding won’t be for a while yet, anyhow. I’ve got the plantation to think about right now. And I’ve got to get a place in Valdosta for us to settle into. Sadie doesn’t want to be this far off from her family. But that’s the nice part about having a young sweetheart—gives me time to get myself all set before I tie the knot. And what about you, John Henry? I always suspected you were sweet on your cousin, Mattie Holliday.”
“I was,” he answered glumly. “Still am, for all the good it will do me. But my Pa’s dead-set against the match, so Rachel says. She claims he doesn’t believe in relations marryin’.”
“That’s funny, comin’ from Henry,” Tom replied. “I hear the Hollidays were mostly inbred from the start. They’ve got cousins married to cousins and uncles married to nieces clear back through the line. You should have a talk with him about it.”
“Talk to my Pa? We don’t have conversations. He just gives orders and expects me to follow, that’s about the size of it. Tell you what: if I had my way, I’d be out on my own and never have to take his orders again.”
“So what’s stoppin’ you?”
“Money mostly. Rachel says that’s what’s keepin’ me in Valdosta. My Pa’s got things all figured out that as long as I stay around, he’ll pay my way. If I leave, he won’t give me a penny. I had planned on goin’ up to Atlanta to open my own practice, but it looks like that won’t be happenin’ now.”
“So what do you need your father’s money for? You’re comin’ up on twenty-one this summer. Soon it’ll be Henry who’ll be askin’ you for a handout.”
“What are you talkin’ about?”
“I’m talkin’ about your inheritance, of course. Soon you’ll be a landed gentleman yourself, and near equal to your father.”
“Oh that,” John Henry said heavily. “I reckon there really isn’t all that much inheritance after all.” From what Rachel had said, there was precious little left.
Tom looked at him quizzically. “How much do you know about the inheritance, John Henry?”
He shrugged. “There’s some land, maybe a building somewhere too. My mother tried to tell me about it once, on my birthday. I wasn’t payin’ all that much attention. There was some cash money put aside that I was countin’ on, but I hear it’s gone now . . .”
“The cash is gone, all right,” Tom said. “Your father used it to put you through dental school. But that wasn’t the bulk of it, anyhow. It’s the land that counts. And the Iron Front especially.”
“The Iron what?” John Henry asked, though there was something familiar about the name, something his mother had told him long ago . . .
Tom’s voice changed a little, as though he were about to share something he’d kept close for a long time. “Sit down, John Henry,” he said, and motioned to the dining table, then waited until they were both seated before going on. “Do you remember much of what happened after your mother died, I mean after your father remarried?”
“Some. I remember the talk around town. I tried not to believe it . . .”
“And do you remember the trial?”
“You mean up in Savannah, over the Courthouse trouble?”
“No, not that,” Tom said with a shake of his head. “I mean the trial down here in Lowndes County, over your inheritance.”
John Henry’s mind rushed back to those turbulent days in the aftermath of his mother’s death. He’d kept himself away from home as much as possible, staying out late nights, playing cards and drinking with his Vigilante friends. There was only a vague recollection of his father fuming over some legal matter, but then Henry fumed a lot. He shook his head, “I reckon I wasn’t payin’ much attention to anything but myself back then.”
Tom leaned forward, pulling the oil lamp close until it made a circle of light on the dark wood table.
“There was a court case over Alice Jane’s inheritance. When she died, her share of my father’s estate passed on to Henry, at least the portion that wasn’t left to you. But when Henry married Rachel Martin, my family wanted to get that inheritance back. We’d heard some talk around the town about him and Rachel, and my brothers and I weren’t pleased about havin’ McKey property go to support Henry’s new wife, under the circumstances. The thing finally came to trial at the Courthouse there in Valdosta: McKey versus Holliday. And I’m the one who brought the suit.”
John Henry took a quick breath, stunned. Tom McKey was the most mild-mannered of men. It was hard to picture him fighting any kind of a fight, let alone taking on the hot-tempered Henry Holliday. And with a disheartening realization, John Henry knew that the town talk about his father and Rachel must have been true after all. Tom never would have made a public spectacle of the family if there weren’t something to it.
“The biggest point of contention was a business house back in Griffin, the Iron Front Building on Solomon Street. Our family wanted that building back and Henry wouldn’t agree to give it up, so the judge found a novel solution. He ordered us to cut the building in half, one side for each family.”
“The Wisdom of King Solomon,” John Henry said, remembering the Bible story his mother had recited to him. “Divide the baby in half and see who the real m
other is. The judge must have had a sense of humor, seein’ how the building was on Solomon Street.”
Tom nodded. “And that’s just what happened. We built a partition wall right down the middle of the whole thing, one half for McKey, one half for Holliday.”
“Half Holliday, half McKey,” John Henry said, “kind of like me.” Then he remembered something else his mother had said: Good and bad sown together, like the wheat and the tares. Until the harvest, when the reapers come . . .
“So your father deeded over the eastern half of the building to my sisters and me, like the judge ordered. But Henry still has the western half, actin’ as your guardian until you come into your inheritance on your twenty-first birthday. That Iron Front building is your inheritance from your mother, John Henry. It’s full of renters now, shops leasing out space. Your father has been collectin’ rents on it in your name all these years, but now you’ll be turnin’ twenty-one, those rents will be comin’ to you.”
“You mean I’ll be a landlord?” he asked in surprise.
“If you want to keep leasin’ it out. As long as you keep the property in good condition, it’ll keep turnin’ a nice little profit every month. It may not be enough to set you up in your own practice, but it’s an income, anyhow. And it sounds to me like an income is all you need to pay your way out of Valdosta.”
He stayed on in Florida for a few more days, long enough to have a good visit with Tom—and to write a letter to his Uncle John Holliday in Atlanta. Might he beg his Uncle John’s hospitality for an extended visit there? He hoped to settle in Atlanta himself, once he came of legal age, and would need somewhere to stay while he found a partnership arrangement.
Uncle John’s reply arrived soon after John Henry returned to Valdosta. Of course he was welcome to come and stay for as long as he liked at his uncle’s home in Atlanta. The family was looking forward to visiting with him and hearing all about his recent graduation from dental school. But why wait until his twenty-first birthday? Uncle John’s own dentist, Dr. Arthur Ford, was planning to attend a dental convention at the end of July and was looking for someone to attend to his patients while he was gone. And if John Henry did well in that situation, he might be offered something more permanent.
His father thought him foolish for throwing away a perfectly good position with Dr. Frink in hopes of making a place for himself in Atlanta. But he couldn’t very well forbid the trip, what with his brother’s kind invitation and an offer of temporary employment tendered. So Henry gave his grudging approval, along with a warning that Dr. Frink couldn’t keep the place in his practice open forever once John Henry came to his senses and decided to come back home.
But John Henry had no intention of ever coming back to Valdosta, though he didn’t put it quite so bluntly to his father.
“I appreciate all you’ve done for me, Pa. But I reckon it’s time I made my own way in the world. Valdosta may be fine for some folks, but I’ve got bigger plans for myself.”
If Henry had a criticism to offer, he kept it to himself.
Chapter Twelve
ATLANTA, 1872
HIS UNCLE’S HOME HAD SEEMED SO GRAND IN HIS MEMORIES OF IT, with its lace-curtained double parlors and dark-paneled study, its carpeted hallways and gleaming brass light fixtures. But after the elegance of Philadelphia and the excitement of St. Louis, Uncle John’s house on Forrest Avenue seemed merely comfortable in comparison—though comfort was all John Henry needed, as long as Mattie was there. And being able to sit with her on the curve of the veranda after his welcome home supper, sharing the evening together, made his uncle’s house seem like paradise.
Mattie made a pretty picture, sitting there on the porch swing and smiling up at him. She was dressed all in white, in a soft cotton gown that clung to her legs as she pushed the swing back and forth, her slender little feet wearing leather slippers as simple and white as her dress. Against all that pristine whiteness, her auburn hair shone like a dark fire.
The only thing wrong with the picture was that they weren’t alone. Cousin Robert was there as well, sitting comfortably beside Mattie on the porch swing, and John Henry had to look at them both together from where he sat balancing on the porch rail. But Robert was only being a good cousin, he reminded himself, showing polite interest in his plans and asking all the proper questions.
“And after Dr. Ford comes back from his convention trip, what then? Will you open your own practice here in Atlanta?”
“Not right off,” John Henry said. “I’ll have to partner for a while first, until I can save enough money to outfit my own office. I have my hand-tools from dental school, but you’d be astounded how much equipment it takes to practice dentistry these days. Things aren’t as simple as they used to be, back when your father pulled teeth in his medical office.”
“I’ll remember to take that as a warnin’,” Robert replied, “and study hard in dental school myself.”
“What are you talkin’ about?”
“Robert wanted to surprise you,” Mattie said with a smile. “He’s been talkin’ to Uncle John about followin’ in your footsteps, and goin’ into dentistry as well.”
“Father says he can manage the tuition all right,” Robert added, “and with my own cousin as my preceptor, I ought to do well enough in Philadelphia.”
“But I don’t even have a practice yet—how can I be your preceptor?”
“Oh, I won’t be goin’ for another year at least, so you’ve got time to get yourself settled first. Father needs my help in the store awhile longer, as Mr. Tidwell is sellin’ his half of the business to us. But when I do get my degree, you can take me into your practice as a partner. Think of it: Holliday and Holliday, Dentists. Has a ring to it, doesn’t it?”
“But what changed your mind from medicine? I always thought you’d take over your father’s practice one day.”
“Same thing as changed yours, I suppose: too many sick people and too many late nights. There’s not many dentists who have to make house calls in the middle of a good night’s sleep.” Then he smiled in his old taunting way. “Or maybe it’s just that old family rivalry—I never could stand to have you beat me at anything!”
John Henry’s eyes narrowed with the challenge. “Then you’re gonna have a mighty miserable life, Robert Holliday, ‘cause there’s nothin’ I can’t beat you at!”
“Listen to you two!” Mattie scolded. “Does everything always have to end up a competition?”
John Henry looked up at her from under his sandy lashes, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “Seems like you were the one who turned things into a competition, Mattie, jumpin’ out of windows, and all, and darin’ us to follow.”
She started to blush, remembering, and Robert laughed.
“You sure did look pretty Mattie, sittin’ underneath that tree with your skirts up around your waist!”
“Stop it, both of you! That was a long time ago, and I was just a child!”
The pink flush ran across her face, and John Henry thought how little she had changed since those childhood days—still as tiny and delicate as ever, her fragile figure a lovely counterpoint to that stubborn Irish spirit—and yet somehow she had changed completely. There was a light in her eyes now that John Henry had never seen before, a soft new expression when she smiled. And when she leaned forward to laugh, there was a gentle hesitation, a shy flutter of dark lashes against ivory skin that set his head spinning. He’d thought he was in love with her before, but that was nothing compared to the way she made him feel now.
“What did you miss most about home?” she asked, turning the attention away from herself and toward John Henry.
His voice caught in his throat and for a moment he couldn’t speak. He wanted to answer: “You, Mattie. I missed you more than anything. I missed seeing your face and hearing your voice and having you close to me like this.” But he couldn’t tell her that—not in front of Robert, anyhow—though as he thought of it, there wasn’t much of anything else that he had miss
ed. “I reckon I missed my name,” he said, settling on something at last. “Those Yankees couldn’t even take the time to say the whole thing out. Just called me plain ‘John,’ like they couldn’t wait to get it over with and get on to somethin’ else. It didn’t even sound like me to me.”
“John Henry Holliday,” Mattie said slowly, his name sounding sweeter than anything, coming from her mouth.
“Well, I don’t care what they want to call me up there,” Robert said, “as long as I can get a good hot meal every day and a good warm bed every night. You two are just plain short on common sense.” Then he yawned and stood up, stretching his long arms. “I am fallin’ asleep out here, listenin’ to your nonsense. Time I went on to bed. You comin’ up, John Henry?”
“Not just yet,” he answered as he stared into the night, avoiding Mattie’s eyes.
“Then don’t wake me when you come to bed. Father needs me in the store early.” Then he bent down and kissed Mattie’s cheek. “G’night, honey. Don’t let him keep you up too late.”
Mattie tipped her face up for his kiss on her cheek, smiling. “G’night, dear Robert.”
John Henry tried not to let their easy intimacy bother him—Mattie and Robert were only fond cousins, after all—but feeling as he did about her, he couldn’t help feeling a little proprietary jealousy, as well. If Mattie hadn’t left the swing just then, coming to stand by his side at the white-painted porch rail and looking up at him with tender eyes, he might have had to make an issue of it. But her gentle words calmed his worry.
“It’s so good to have you home again, John Henry! Seems like old times, havin’ the three of us back together again. Almost like old times, anyhow,” she said as her voice took on a sudden sadness. “Except that things aren’t well back home. I wrote you about my father’s troubles, didn’t I?”
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