by Marian Wells
The young man continued, “Well it’s no secret Lincoln’s name isn’t even on the ballot in the deep South. Down there it’s a contest between Bell and Breckinridge, while up here it’s Lincoln and Douglas running against each other.”
“Alex,” Olivia said, handing the pamphlet to him, “you’ll need to read this before tonight. It says Buchanan is guilty of graft and bribery in issuing government contracts. The book names firms receiving contracts who made contributions to the Democratic Party. And there’s much more; I haven’t read it all.”
“Then let’s get through this place and head for the hotel,” he replied.
Later, as they left the Capitol, Alex turned to look up at the unfinished dome. “Incomplete. That’s the way I’m feeling about this whole situation. It is starting to seem there’s a job to be done, beginning with the government. Our nation will be incomplete until that happens. That flag up there promises much more freedom than we have now.” He squeezed her arm as she blinked at tears in her eyes. He tried to lighten his voice. “Looks like a tricky situation we’re getting into—if Lincoln wins the election.”
****
The October dusk brought coolness to the air. When Olivia stepped out of the carriage, she shivered and pulled her cloak tight. She slipped her hand through Alex’s arm as he said, “Your gown is lovely, my dear. Earlier,” he added, “I was so stunned by the silk flowers I forgot to tell you so. Do I understand you’ll be standing all evening?”
They moved quickly through the reception line. Olivia had a brief glimpse of President Buchanan, felt his limp hand, and was then propelled swiftly through the stately rooms.
There were more names and handshakes; information bombarded them. Alex murmured in her ear, “Ever heard so many Southern accents?”
“Not since I left Mississippi. Alex, look!” Olivia grasped his arm, and Alex turned.
The slight man dressed in white looked startled, then his eyes narrowed. With a quick word to his partner, he strode forward. “Alexander Duncan, Olivia, what a delightful surprise! The lure of home reaches across the miles, doesn’t it?”
“Lucas Tristram,” Alex said slowly as he met the extended hand. “This is indeed a surprise.”
“It is encouraging to see my talks netted one prodigal.” He bowed toward Olivia, “I trust the other one will return before this affair is resolved. We need every man we can get.”
“Why, Mr. Tristram—” Olivia looked the man directly in the eye. “Surely you aren’t reading more import in this election than is warranted.”
“My dear Mrs. Duncan, this election can draw the line sharply between North and South. Of course we are watching this with bated breath. But on the other hand, many of us still find it impossible to believe the conservative citizens of the North will deliberately vote a black-Republican into office.”
“Black?” Olivia turned as a woman whirled out of the crowd. Her hoops tipped dangerously as she swung about and stood near Lucas, waving her fan while listening. “My good man, I am a solid citizen of the North, no matter that I was raised in the deep South, I still believe the gentleman when he says he will not tamper with slavery.”
Olivia watched with interest as the woman’s escort appeared just beyond the edge of her skirt. Bobbing his mane of snowy curls he added, “We have kin in Louisiana, and they sift all the rumors and ship them our direction. I feel we have a good handle on the boiling kettle right now. My sister tells me the secessionist crowd is working this election to the hilt. Lincoln is an excuse, just like the tariffs were an excuse back when nullification was the talk. She also says there’s strong Union feeling in Dixie.”
Another gentleman slipped into the circle of people. “Call it excuse if you will,” he gestured widely, with his cup of wine punch swinging dangerously close to Lucas’ white linen elbow. Olivia winced as the bright liquid sloshed against the crystal. “The South will never be happy until they are free to live as they please. What’s wrong with two countries? Look at Europe, there’s a bunch of little countries pushed up against each other. It can happen on this continent. And the South will be expanding soon.”
Lucas spoke as he looked around, “It isn’t a matter of if. Sooner or later Cuba, Mexico, and Central American nations will join our ranks.”
A newcomer added, “And it’s a matter of rights. When has the South ever tampered with Northern rights? It’s obvious we are two completely different peoples.”
“The Northerners are only a cut above the slave—uneducated, unrefined. Mechanics and laborers. It is a trial to visit the Northern cities with their smoke and noise,” the woman clinging to his arm added. Olivia noted that his nods of approval punctuated her statements as she continued. “Unfortunately, the gulf is so wide we can’t communicate with our Northern neighbors. What do they know of the finer things of life?” Her fan snapped shut like an exclamation mark.
Olivia and Alex continued to push their way through the crowd toward the door. She turned to take his arm as she heard the final remark. “Don’t you forget this. Buchanan has pledged himself to secession, and we’re certain to hold him to it. South Carolina will shatter the Union. Like Samson in the Good Book, she’ll embrace the pillars of the country and pull them in upon herself.”
Back in their hotel room, Alex removed the cufflinks from his shirt while Olivia watched his image in the mirror. Turning, she asked, “Alex, there are real differences, aren’t there?”
“Between North and South? Yes. Some of the differences aren’t good; the South would be at a decided advantage if there were to be a war.”
He faced her. “There’s the proclivity of Southern men to settle their arguments with their fists or dueling pistols. You don’t see this in the North. Neither do you see the stress placed on a military education such as we have in the South. I was surprised to discover the small size of the Northern Army and the lack of military academies.”
As Olivia brushed her hair, Alex added thoughtfully, “Another thing. You talk to the Northerners about war and they can’t believe it’s a serious subject. But Southerners respond with excitement, as if it’s a lark.”
He paused. “Differences? Yes. And our differences may just plunge us into a conflict we cannot avoid.”
Chapter 4
“Oh, it’s good to be home! I didn’t dream I would miss this place so much.” Olivia turned slowly in the middle of the keeping room of the farmhouse in Pennsylvania. From the stone fireplace at one end of the room to the stove in the kitchen at the far side of the house, there was warmth and comfort. She looked at the heavy beams overhead, admired the flicker of fire warming the plastered walls, and touched the shawl across the back of the settle.
“Sadie, you’ve finished knitting this shawl since we’ve been gone.”
“Aye. Just one load of slaves came through. There was little to occupy the time.” Going to the rocking chair beside the fire, she picked up the skein of blue wool and said, “Besides, I didn’t have a body around to keep me hopping from one end of the kitchen to the other. I missed thy chatter.”
“What are you making now?”
“A shawl for Beth, that new child Mike brought home. Doesn’t have a wrap to ward of the chill.”
Alex came down the stairs. “I’ve taken the bags upstairs. Sadie, since you’ve moved us out of the little room we’ll have to be upstairs with the rest of the guests.”
“Guests!” Sadie chuckled, “Now Alex, thou can’t go pulling that on me. I needed the nursing room, and thee two needed more room than thee had down here. Besides, thou knowest thou art family, and I’ll not have it otherwise. I suppose family can be shuffled around without complaining.”
“This new girl,” Olivia said, helping herself to an apple from the wooden bowl on the long table, “I believe you called her Beth Peamble. Is she really Mike’s girl?”
Sadie chuckled, shook her head and then frowned. Slowly she said, “She keeps us all guessing. Right now I think she’s anybody’s girl, if they can keep up with
her. She’s nice; can’t help but like the little one, but—”
Olivia searched through the nut bowl on the buffet. “I don’t suppose you’ve heard from any of the others.”
“Crystal, Amelia, Matthew? No, my dear.” Sadie sighed and tugged at the skein of yarn. “Come here and hold out thy hands, I need to get this wool into a ball.”
Alex came out of the pantry, cookies in his hand. “Is Amos in the barn?” Sadie eyed the cookies and smiled at him. “I’m taking him one,” he said.
“Yes. I don’t suppose they fed thee in Canada or Washington. Better take more; Mike should be out there too. He’s been doing something to the Golden Awl. He’s also been muttering something about another trip before winter sets in.”
Olivia turned at a whisper of sound behind her. A girl blinked sleepy eyes and said, “I fell asleep, Sadie. These must be your friends, Alex and Olivia.” She looked at Olivia, “Friends is putting it mildly. You should have heard her, it’s been—” Her Southern accent slipped into mimicking Sadie’s gentle voice. “Alex says this, and Olivia does that. I can’t even wash dishes without being told how you do it so well. I’m glad to have you here—to show me how to wash dishes.” Her grin was mischievous, and Olivia laughed.
The outside door opened and Mike came in, his eyes searching out the girl across the room. He smiled and then said, “Olivia, and Alex, it’s good to have you safely home!”
Alex gestured with the cookies. “I was just ready to come looking for you. Want a cookie? Is Amos coming in?”
Mike took the cookie and nodded. “I’m mighty glad to have you here. I’ve been thinking about another trip. We had a full house last time.”
“He had me sleeping in the pilot house,” Beth murmured. “And trying to cook. Ugh! That was laughable! Me cooking for the darkies, when all my life—” She paused, gazing curiously at Olivia. “You’re Southern. How can you work against us?”
“What do you mean?” Olivia asked slowly.
“Mike told me what you’ve been doing, helping the slaves escape. You know it’s causing all kinds of problems. I heard tell—she stopped suddenly. “But then, you wouldn’t be interested.”
“Yes we are,” Alex said, going to sit on the stool beside Sadie. “I’d really like to hear what they are saying in the South.”
“Well for one thing, there’s stories of slaves being stirred up by the Northerners telling them they are as good as anybody, no matter what their color. I hear in Texas a body can’t sleep for fear. There are constant rumors of slaves banding together, intent on no good. A fellow in Alabama told us the slaves are putting poison in the wells in Texas, and in his home state they’re burning houses. It’s all ’cause of the abolitionists. I know for a fact the slaves were happy before.” She paused, glanced quickly around the circle and added, “They’re saying all these problems make the risk of separating from the Union seem very attractive.”
“And do you think so?” Alex asked.
Beth’s eyes sparkled. “It sounds exciting. But they’re saying it would never amount to much. Like nullification—a few threats and the North will start making concessions.”
“Have these stories been circulating for a long time?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know much about it, except what I hear. It’s only been this past year.”
“Have you seen any of the stories in the newspapers?” Alex pressed again.
“No. I’ve just been told about them.”
“Beth, is it possible these statements are all lies, meant to discredit the North? I think all of us, both North and South, deserve the truth. It’s necessary if we’re to make a good judgment, and that holds for every part of life—not just politics.”
She took a bite of apple, and when Olivia finally decided Beth would say no more, she turned to Mike. “We’ve been talking about another trip this autumn.”
“It’ll have to be soon,” Alex warned as he reached for an apple. “What is the status of the Awl?”
“Just needs work on the engine, fresh oil. We’d better take on a barrel of oil. It costs dearly on the other side of the Ohio.” He eyed Alex, “You’ve been to Washington. What do you think?”
“I didn’t like what I heard.” He turned to Sadie. “Remember Lucas Tristram? We met him at a reception in the White House. Seemed happy to see me there—called me a prodigal son returned home.”
Sadie peered at Alex. “Did thee say—”
“Not a word about anything,” Alex said as he and Mike moved for the door. “When he gets home, he’ll realize he did all the talking.” Sadie chuckled, but Olivia saw the shadows in her eyes and heard her sigh. Beth followed the men as they went out to the barn.
“I keep thinking and praying about them,” Sadie said. “Matthew and Crystal, and Amelia too. Prayin’ is about all I can do. That Tristram caused more trouble than a whole hive of fussed-up bees,” she added sadly.
Sadie finished winding the ball of yarn. “Might as well do another one while thee sits here. Our supper is in the oven, and I don’t get a chance to visit much.”
“What is the story about Beth? Is she going to stay here?”
“Doesn’t seem in a hurry to move on. She pays her way, seems to have plenty of money. Aye, and her story seems to vary once in a while.” Slowly she added, “Seems spunky. I’m sparing with my sympathy. Poor Mike! Thou hast seen nothing until thou seest the way she leads him around by the nose like a pet pig.
“Aye, and here I am gossipin’! But Olivia, ’tis hard to be sympathetic when thou art listening to her story and seeing her dimples flashing while there’s mischief in her eye. Poor Mike.”
That night Olivia sat on the bed beside Alex, saying, “Beth makes me uneasy. According to Sadie, she’s from one of the wealthy cotton families. But Alex, didn’t she talk too much about her family’s wealth?”
Alex nodded. “For having been as well educated as she claims, she seems to lack the polish I would have expected.”
“Didn’t know a thing about Sir Walter Scott.” Olivia grinned. “For a Southern lass, that’s nearly unforgivable!”
****
By the middle of the following week, the Golden Awl was back on the river. During the second week, while the shallow draft boat plowed through the low water of the Ohio, the weather soured, turning to icy rain and sleet.
Thinking of the red-haired girl they had left behind, Olivia chuckled as she watched Mike braced behind the wheel of the Golden Awl. The storm slung icy water through the window; Mike was drenched, but he whistled as if it were mid-June with soft breezes blowing. Olivia shook her head as she poured hot coffee for him. Sadie, my dear friend, she thought, Mike can take care of himself!
“Where’s Alex?” he yelled over the storm.
“In the cabin. He said to tell you he’ll be up to take the wheel in about ten minutes.” Mike shook his head and pulled his cap down on his head. “But you’ve been up here for hours now,” she insisted.
“Just let me get around the bend. The Mississippi is coming up, and I like to be the one to hit the water.” He glanced at Olivia. “There’s activity on the river. Since we made the last trip together, I’ve been seeing more patrol boats and commotion in the ports.” He pointed. “Looks like there’s a new ship on the river. Pretty good sized.” He pointed to the paddle wheeler coming around the bend.
“Very grand,” Olivia said. “Must be all passengers. I don’t see a bale of cotton anywhere. What kind of activity did you see?” She tugged her slicker close.
“In port, mostly trimming things up. Building new wharfs, buildings. Saw some stockpiles that surprised me. Looked like barrels of oil. Machinery of some kind.”
“Hear any rumbles or war talk?”
He gave her a curious glance. “You getting jittery over the situation? Alex and I voted for Lincoln to be President of the United States only two weeks ago and now you’re acting like the Lord isn’t in charge of all this.”
“Isn’t it amazing that we knew by the next da
y that Lincoln won the election?”
“Trust the Republicans to get things organized. I just wish it wouldn’t take so long to get him in the White House. Five months from election to inauguration seems a long time.”
“Mike, do you think the South will cause trouble—maybe secede?” His face settled into a thoughtful frown, but he shook his head. Olivia continued, “Did Alex tell you about our trip to Washington? Did he mention hearing that Buchanan was committed to secession?”
“Yes. But talk is one thing, Olivia; action is another. I’m inclined to think the South is big at talk, but I think the prevailing notion floating around the North right now is to treat her like a spoiled child and let her fuss. She’ll come around sooner or later.”
As the days passed, the chilly northern winds fell behind them and the air sweetened with lingering autumn as the Golden Awl moved swiftly southward down the Mississippi.
They were nearly to Vicksburg before problems began. Day after frustrating day they limped along the Mississippi, with barely enough power to move them. Finally, they discovered a widening crack in the boiler.
Jake, the roustabout, summed it up. “It ain’t doing us no good to burn all that wood and get steam leaking out all the cracks.”
Alex and Mike stared at each other across the table in the cabin. Alex hadn’t touched his breakfast. Now he gave a frustrated sigh. “To top it off,” he said, “it’s going to be nearly impossible to get a new boiler this time of year. It’ll have to come down from Ohio or Illinois. And if we have to wait on a boiler, we’re pushing against time. Before we can get our people and head up the Ohio, ice will have closed the river. I guess I should have allowed more time.”
“We had to stick around for the election,” Mike reminded him. “We all knew it was cutting it close, but it was a gamble we had to take.”
