by Marian Wells
Beth was silent as she watched the leaping flames of the open fire. Fingering the edge of the afghan on her chair, Sadie watched the glow of the fire intensify the brilliance of Beth’s unruly curls. At the same time the light pointed out the petulant, unhappy twist on Beth’s mouth. The low-cut cotton dress revealed too much of Beth’s chilled flesh. “I believe we ought to find something warmer for thee to wear, a good woolen.”
Beth’s smile flashed. “Me? Coming from a cotton plantation and wearing wool?” The smile disappeared. “Besides, I hate sewing! I’d rather wear rags than stitch another terrible frock.”
Sadie peered at her. “I didn’t think Southern girls stitched anything but fancy work.”
Beth’s face flushed. “I—Mother thought it was needful.” She jumped to her feet and started for the door. “I should be doing something.”
“The dishes are clean and dinner is simmering on the stove.”
“No, I mean something…to earn my way. I can’t impose myself on you any longer.”
“Well, if the problems continue to grow, thee wilt find a job most likely. Perhaps we’ll all be put to work.”
“Problems? What do you mean Sadie?”
“Nearly the end of January, it is, and look at this newspaper.” She lifted the paper and pointed to the lines of bold print as she read. “‘Since the first of the year, in concert with the attempt to reinforce Fort Sumter, the Southern states have been tumbling out of the Union. To date this is the list of those who have joined South Carolina.’” She flipped the page. “Mississippi, Florida, Alabama, and now Georgia and Louisiana have gone out of the Union. They’re expecting Texas to be added in February, and that’s most of the cotton states.
“Poor foolish ones they are, taking action that can’t be undone.” Sadie sighed and folded the paper.
“Oh, don’t take it so,” Beth said. “Everyone in the South knows it’s all just a push to get the North to give in.”
“I’m a fearing it won’t work this time; it’s gone too far,” Sadie said darkly, reaching for the paper again. “Horace Greeley’s quoted right here, saying to Mr. Lincoln that he’s fearing more than anything else that the North will back down and make a shameful compromise just to keep the Union together. He goes on to say such action would disgrace the Union to the place we’d never be able to lift our heads again.”
Beth studied Sadie’s face. “You sound as if you like Mr. Lincoln, but I know Amos didn’t vote for him.”
“I like him, but he’s a disappointment to us Quakers. They called him a black Republican, but I don’t see him as caring that much for the slaves. I’m of the opinion he will straddle the fence. He’s said over and over he’ll not set the Negroes free. The work done to get the Republican Party started in the first place was for the purpose of winning freedom for the slaves.”
Beth was silent for a long time. Sadie watched her, noting that she appeared ready to speak and then seemed to change her mind. Finally she said, “The fellows in town were talking about getting up a state militia, just in case there’s a battle. Sadie, do you think there’s going to be a war?”
Sadie picked up her knitting and took three stitches before answering. “I don’t know, but I get a shivery feeling down inside when I think about it.” She looked at Beth. “If there is, wilt thou go back to the South?”
“Father wouldn’t welcome me,” she whispered. “He told me if I left, I couldn’t return.”
“Seems a sad way to treat a young lady,” she glanced at Beth, saw her uneasy, quick glance. Sadie knitted in silence.
Finally Beth said, “It seems there’s just nothing to do except get married.” Sadie dropped a stitch.
As she concentrated on recovering it, Beth walked restlessly around the room.
When the stitch was safely on the needle, Beth stopped beside Sadie and said, “The problem is I wouldn’t want a Northern fellow; I can’t cook or anything.”
“You could learn.” Sadie’s voice was muffled as she bent over her knitting. “Olivia did.”
“A Southern girl would have to love a man terribly to go that far. I don’t think I could. But then the best thing would be to find a rich man.”
She sat on the stool at Sadie’s feet. “Sadie, are there any rich, single men in Pennsylvania?”
“There’s a farmer over in the next county. I hear he owns most of the land in that end of the state. Has livestock. He’s a widower. They said his wife didn’t lack for anything.” She glanced up and saw Beth’s face brighten, then added, “Heard his wife died from pneumonia last winter. Got it milking cows in January.”
Beth shuddered. “I can’t milk cows,” she said as she left the room.
Sadie watched her go. Pretty as a picture, she thought, but I don’t want our Mike Clancy tangled up with the likes of her. At least, not unless she comes around to getting close to the Lord like Olivia did. From the way she talks, there’s little indication she’s tender-hearted. At least it seems unlikely unless I do a lot of praying. She paused, pursed her mouth, and grinned. Might be a good idea to ask the Lord to be finding Mike a good girl, so I can pray for Beth without the added worry of Mike falling for her.
Thinking of the way Mike had behaved just before the last trip south, Sadie sighed, “Might be too late, Lord.”
****
On the sixth of March, Amos came into the kitchen expecting to find his dinner. He found Sadie hunched over the newspaper spread on the surface of the table. “Do we eat inauguration news today?”
With a sigh she looked up. “Thou art early. There’s soup from last night heating on the back of the cookstove. I’ll slice some bread for thee. But Amos, listen to this. ‘From the lack of long hair in the crowd packed elbow to elbow for the inauguration of President Lincoln yesterday, it appears only Southerners absented themselves from the glorious affair. From New York to California, as well as Vermont and down the Ohio, people flocked to the nation’s capital to see the inauguration of the President. Some visitors still carried carpetbags, for there were more visitors to the capital than hotel rooms available…. Mr. Lincoln rose at five o’clock this morning. He partook of a light breakfast while his inaugural speech was read to him….”
Sadie looked up. “Makes thee think thou art right there. They said the day before, visitors packed the Senate chambers to listen to debates. Must have been interesting.”
She sighed and moved the newspapers as Amos carried the soup to the table. “I think we’ll all end up liking Lincoln, no matter what he does about the slaves.” She looked at him and added, “It also mentioned Quakers from Pennsylvania being there at the inauguration. Here’s a comment on Mr. Lincoln’s speech. It says the President of the United States took an oath to ‘preserve, protect, and defend the government.’ Mr. Lincoln added he intended to do just that.” Sadie folded the paper and said, “I’ll look forward to getting a complete copy of his speech.”
****
In late March, Amos came into the kitchen while Sadie and Beth were preparing dinner. “Heard in town that the ice has broken on the Ohio. Might be that Mike’ll be coming back pretty soon. His last letter sounded uneasy about the squabbling in Tennessee. Said folks were mighty touchy, and the possibility of bringing more slaves out was unlikely. So I’ll not be looking for a crowd with him.”
Sadie nodded over the pan as she stirred. She had seen the way Beth’s eyes brightened when Amos mentioned Mike. Staring into the soup, she chided herself for being full of suspicion.
As they sat down at the table, Amos looked at Sadie with a troubled frown. “The newspaper hints at a continued rumble coming from the South. I’m wondering about Alex and Olivia. Haven’t heard from them for over a month now. It’ll feel mighty good to have them home again.”
Sadie left the table and went to the parlor, saying, “I think I’m hearing voices. A few minutes ago I thought I heard splashes in the river. I dismissed it, thinking it was the young’uns. Now—”
They all heard the sharp rap at the do
or and Beth flew past Sadie. It was Mike, his roustabouts, and three passengers. Sadie pulled them into the house. As she headed for the kitchen, she saw Mike and Beth in the hallway, smiling at each other.
The next morning when Mike carried his coffee to the table, he addressed Sadie with a troubled frown. “I wrote to Olivia and Alex, but didn’t hear from them. I have a feeling they didn’t receive my letter. Could cause problems for them, since we’d agreed I’d stay there until they returned this spring. When they left last fall, their intention was to spend the winter with his kin and return to Vicksburg in time to make a trip further south. Of course, that’s out of the question now. The South has the Mississippi heavily guarded right now.”
“Guarded?” Sadie asked.
He nodded. “It isn’t supposed to look like war, but they’re keeping their eyes on every vessel on the Mississippi. If—maybe I should say when—there’s trouble, they intend to keep the Mississippi under control.” He sipped his coffee and added, “I’m inclined to think, from listening to the people, that there’s not just slaves running; some of the pro-Union whites are also leaving.” He glanced at Beth. “It appears there’s a major final push to get out of the South.”
He waited a moment and then said, “If you have any desire to go home, Beth, this may be the last opportunity.”
“How would I get there?”
“I believe you could make it by railroad. I could take you down the Tennessee River and let you take a train from there.”
She shook her head. When she lifted her face, there was a small smile visible. “I closed the doors behind me when I left. Father told me I wouldn’t be allowed to come home. I guess I’m an orphan now.” The words were jaunty, but her smile seemed bitter.
Mike touched her clenched fist. “You know Sadie and Amos will always have a place for you.”
“I can’t impose forever.” She got to her feet and carried dishes to the dishpan. Turning she looked at Mike. “I may find a place up here where I can earn my keep.” She made a wry face. “What do ex-Southern belles do to earn a living?”
Chapter 8
Alex and Olivia reached the hospital to find Alex’s father holding court from his bed. A cluster of dark suited figures surrounded him.
The group stepped back as they approached. “Father, has something happened?” Alex asked.
“No,” he said impatiently. “I was just taking a nap when these gentlemen stopped by to tell me the latest piece of news. I suppose you’ve heard Anderson moved his troops to Fort Sumter during the night.”
He waved his hand abruptly. “I haven’t had time to get up and dress. However, I must finish my meeting. Gentlemen, I would like to present my son and his wife, Olivia. Now let’s get along with the meeting.”
The men moved uneasily. One detached himself from the circle and approached Alex and Olivia. “I’m Thorton Hudson.” Gravely he said, “This is a very uncomfortable situation. I say this to you because I know you’ve been living in the North and possibly have some Northern sympathy.
“Unfortunately, the situation has deteriorated drastically. Major Anderson chose to move his men.”
Olivia glanced at Alex, saw the white line of his lips as his father said, “Jefferson Davis has headed for the White House to see President Buchanan and make known our displeasure with the situation.”
Thoughtfully, Mr. Hudson added, “Moultrie was clearly non-threatening, but Sumter is another matter. In addition to blocking the harbor, they’re completely fortified.”
“We saw the incident,” Alex said, “including the boat moving in on the fort just as Old Glory was raised and the cannon discharged.” Seeing the discomfort on the circle of faces, Olivia carefully nudged Alex with her toe. Alex turned toward the bed. “Father, shall we come back later?”
“No,” he sighed regretfully. “I’ll dress and join you quickly. It is starting to look as if there’s nothing more to be accomplished.” He turned, “Gentlemen, will you do me the favor of keeping me informed of all that transpires, and dispatching the information to me, including the enemy’s newspapers?”
****
As the carriage left Charleston, Olivia felt her tension begin to ease. She relaxed against the cushions and watched the winter landscape.
Alex and his father were deep in conversation when the carriage turned down the avenue shaded by spreading live oaks. Grateful for their quiet conversation, Olivia leaned against the doorpost and eagerly studied the plantation Alex had described to her.
As they reached the house at the end of the lane, she saw it was comfortable rather than pretentious. There were mellow gray shingles, deep windows, wide stone chimneys, and shady verandas with sturdy balconies supporting fragrant bittersweet. The scene spread feelings of home around her.
When the carriage stopped, Olivia found it easy to smile as she stepped down to greet the little round woman who stood on the veranda. Olivia had one glimpse of a snowy pile of curls topping a serene face before Bertha Duncan hugged her. “Oh my dear, what a lovely wife my Alex has!”
Olivia watched Alex sweep the woman up in his arms before he turned to her. “Olivia, come get acquainted; I can guarantee you’ll love each other.”
After his father had been settled in bed, Alex took Olivia down to the library. Looking around the familiar room, he said, “Father hasn’t changed a thing since I’ve left. His complete set of Shakespeare is still in the same place. And so is Aristotle, still looking as if the pages have never been touched.”
He grinned at Olivia. “If we were to stay in the South, I might have time to do more reading.”
“Oh, Alex! It is a lovely home, of course, but—”
“I was teasing. But since we’re going to be here for the winter, you might as well get acquainted with the rest of the place. Father has some wonderful horses.” He smiled down at her as he took her hand. “While we have all this free time, let’s enjoy his stables.”
****
In the isolation of the inland plantation, January quickly slipped past. Except for the newspapers, Olivia could have forgotten the troubles pushing at their door. With dismay they read of the escalating secession. One after another the cotton states were marching out of the Union to join South Carolina in the newly formed Confederacy.
Late in the month, on a cold, rainy day, Alex returned from Charleston with more newspapers and a portfolio of papers for his father. Olivia was in the library gleaning bits of information from the discarded pile of papers on the table.
She looked up as he came into the room. “Father is in his bedroom. Alex, I have the impression he isn’t as well as he would like to believe.” She kissed him, warming his ears with her hands.
Alex nodded. “I agree. I’ll take these things up to him and talk to you later.”
When he returned to the room he said, “Today looks like a good day to start on Aristotle.”
Her dismayed face appeared over the top of the newspaper. “Alex, when the world is falling apart, how can you think of Aristotle?”
“Actually, I wanted to know whether or not you had gone to sleep behind that newspaper.”
“They’re very informative,” she murmured. “I wanted to read them quickly before your Father discovers their content and burns them.”
“He hasn’t seen them?” He sat down beside her and peered over her shoulder.
“For some reason, they didn’t make it upstairs. I found them in the trash basket.”
“Tim must have thought he’d read them. Maybe it’s just as well. Father isn’t lacking for reading material.”
“Alex,” Olivia said slowly, “this paper from Washington says Scott sent two hundred soldiers and supplies to Anderson on a private vessel called Star of the West. Word of his action leaked, and the ship was fired upon by South Carolina artillery. This happened January 9th.” She dropped the paper. “Fired upon! Alex, how terrible.”
“Father knows about that. We’ve had quite a discussion. But there’s something else to conside
r, Olivia. If Star of the West had been armed, they also could have fired. That’s how close we came to starting a war.”
“Events are happening at an alarming rate. Alex, what shall we do?”
Alex shook his head and sighed. “We came to mend fences with Father, but it isn’t happening. He’s more stubborn, more insistent on the states’ rights issue than he’s ever been. Olivia, I can’t convince my parents to feel the way we do.”
“What about slavery? Alex, if your Father would only seek the Lord Jesus Christ with all his heart, then I’d feel we had accomplished all that’s necessary. Surely the Lord would change his mind.”
“Olivia, my parents consider themselves to be true followers of Christ; they also claim to care deeply about their slaves and to be concerned about their welfare. What if Father never changes his opinion about slavery? Can we say they aren’t Christian? I’ve heard Lincoln quoted as saying he recognizes the fact that Southerners read the same Bible, serve the same Lord. He added we will all be judged by the same God, both the Southerners and the Northerners. Lincoln says the will of God prevails, even while each side claims to know the will of God. I agree with him, even in the unstated idea behind it: we are responsible for our own beliefs and actions.” Alex stared at the floor.
Olivia touched the brooch at her neckline as she heard him say, “Life calls for decisions. Sometimes we make them without giving a moment’s thought. There are decisions we can’t back out of. Sometimes we’d like to forget them. But the more deeply involved we are, the more impossible it is to retreat. I guess a good decision carries moral responsibility.”
She saw the shadow in his eyes and thought, We helped the slaves. Now there will be a war, and Alex knows he must fight.
****
South Carolina was beginning to come alive. Soft green surrounded the burst of blossoms. The newly budded trees were visible from the balcony door opening off Olivia’s bedroom, and the breeze coming through the door bore a gentle, rain-cleansed air filled with the scent of spring.
