by Carl Waters
He’d spent years dreaming of traveling to Canada, with that very assumption in his mind. And now that he was here—now that he’d risked life, limb, and even family to achieve this dream—he found that the people here were little better than the ones back home. True, the larger government had ruled that no race would be subjugated here, and slavery was outlawed. But that couldn’t touch the true fabric of the society, which existed within the minds and actions of its people.
And the people, it seemed, still believed in the old ways. Despite what their government had ruled.
George was grimly considering the end of that particular dream when another even grimmer thought occurred to him. He’d driven away another customer. And he would have to tell Mr. White about it as soon as he returned.
If Jim’s earlier reaction had taught him anything, it was that the owner of a business did not take kindly to assistants who drove their customers away.
At that, his mind began racing anew. How was he to tell Mr. White what had happened? How could he make him see that he’d only been trying to do the right thing? Certainly, Mr. White had told him not to speak to the customers, but all George had been trying to do was tell the woman to come back when Mr. White himself was here to answer her questions. She was the one who had pushed the conversation to its conclusion! She was the one who hadn’t been willing to listen to what he was saying and return on the morrow! She was the one at fault here, not him!
And therein, he realized, lay his answer. He would simply tell Mr. White the truth: that he had tried to tell the woman to come back the next day, that she’d refused, and that she had then sought to intentionally offend and insult him so that she could start a fight. Perhaps she had done so on purpose, just so that she wouldn’t have to pay a bill, he thought with sudden inspiration. Perhaps she’d come here hoping to find a way to take her business elsewhere, and George had just been in the wrong place at the wrong time! Mr. White seemed a rational, intelligent, and thoroughly unbiased man. Surely he would allow George the benefit of the doubt. Surely he’d noticed that not everyone in this city had his progressive ideas and that many of them harbored old prejudices.
In fact, George told himself, feeling slightly better, perhaps they could laugh over the matter. Laugh at how backward some people were and how disagreeable the woman was.
He went back to cleaning the shop, wishing both that the machinist would arrive quickly, so that he could have it over with, and that he would be gone all day, to give George more time to think through the conversation they would have to have.
24
By the time Mr. White returned, George had worked himself into a fury over what the woman had said to him and was foaming at the mouth to tell the machinist what had happened. He was absolutely certain that the shop owner would support him.
“And how was your day, my boy?” Mr. White asked, smiling and putting a stack of papers on the counter. “I have several pieces in the back of the cart that need repairs. Can you bring them in for me, and make certain that they’re well labeled? I have a bad habit of forgetting what belongs to certain customers.”
George nodded, but thought he’d better tell Mr. White what had happened before he left the room. “As it happens, sir, I did have a bit of a problem today.”
Mr. White, who had been filing the receipts away in a folder, turned to him with eyebrows raised. “Problem?” he asked, surprised. “Whatever could have happened? We didn’t have any appointments today. Was cleaning the shop too much for you?”
George forced a smile. “No, sir. The place is clean as a whistle, and I dare you to find one speck of dust or metal shavings! But a woman came in, looking for her order, and …” He hesitated, unsure of how to continue.
“And?” Mr. White prompted.
George paused, but then started talking and couldn’t bring himself to stop. “I told her to come back tomorrow, as you weren’t in the shop at the moment, just as you told me, Mr. White. And I thought she’d go and return when she could talk to you—and I told her that’s what she should do—but she insisted on knowing about her order right then, and of course I didn’t know anything about it. Then she took to saying that I shouldn’t be here alone and wondering if you knew I was here, or if you even knew me at all! She said it wasn’t right that you should have given me a job and that she didn’t hold with that sort of thing. Didn’t hold with people such as me, Mr. White. Treated me like I was a criminal, here to steal from you, and wouldn’t believe me when I said I was your assistant! She said that you must have dropped to low levels if you were forced to take on help like me and that she was offended and disappointed.”
He stopped, his chest heaving as he tried to control the flow of words. Yes, he was exaggerating the truth a bit, but the feeling was the same. The woman had said most of those things, and even if she hadn’t said them out loud, she’d certainly been thinking them!
Mr. White shook his head, frowning. “I can’t say I’m surprised, though it is disappointing. Too many people in these parts hold to those sorts of beliefs, regardless of what our government tells us. Not many folk would have hired you for a job like this, that much is true. And I suspected there would be people who took it personally that I’d done so, which was exactly why I told you to stay in the back.”
“But I only came out to tell her that you weren’t here!” George retorted. “Only wanted to let her know to come back!”
“When you should have stayed in the back and kept your mouth shut,” Mr. White said gently. “I’m sure you can see that it would have been wiser to stay out of it. Now, what happened with this customer?”
George paused. He’d been so certain that Mr. White would take his side and see that the woman had been at fault, but now …
“She had no right to say what she said!” he almost shouted. “I risked everything to come to this land, where I thought I’d find freedom! Where I thought I could work for myself and stand on my own two feet! Where I might be treated as equal to everyone else and even respected! And when I get here, I find that it’s no different than it was back home! I risked everything to come to a place that’s no better than Kentucky!”
Mr. White shook his head gently. “That’s not true at all, boy, and I think you know it. Canada is nothing like the US these days. We outlawed slavery years ago. Where in the South would you be allowed to work and make your own way, or even learn a trade? Would you be able to support your own family there, or even keep them with you, if you chose to move to a new city? Would you be allowed to look a white man in the eye, as you can here? Or would that cost you your life? Think before you speak, George. A wise man must always think about his words before they come out of his mouth, or those words will prove him a fool. Now, what happened with this woman?”
“I told her what I thought of her opinions,” George said bluntly. “Didn’t see no reason to hold my temper, when I’d been trying to be polite to her and she pushed me and insulted me. What would you have had me do? Lie down and let her abuse me in that manner?”
Mr. White’s lips grew thin. “I would have had you hold your tongue, control your temper, and stay in the back as you were told, George. I didn’t ask you to deal with the customers. In fact, I specifically told you not to deal with them, as I was afraid something like this would happen.” He gave George a long, searching look. “I suppose, then, that you drove her from the shop. And I suppose that she was very angry.”
George looked down, feeling suddenly very ashamed. This man had given him a chance to do the work he’d loved, and he’d not only ruined that opportunity, but lost this kind gentleman a customer. “Said she wanted her equipment back, and that she’d be taking it somewhere else from now on,” he admitted.
The machinist took a long, slow breath and blew it out again. A moment later he said the words George had been dreading since the woman left the shop.
“In that case, George, I’m afraid I’m going to have to let you go. Not only did you disobey my orders today, but I find that y
ou’ve lied to me. For you are not a man who can hold his temper or keep a level head on his shoulders. And you demonstrated that by losing me a customer. I cannot have an assistant that doesn’t respect my customers. I’m sorry. If you leave an address, I’ll see that you’re paid for the days you’ve worked.”
George, too angry and bitter to even think about the money, turned and shot out the door, slamming it behind him.
25
“Excuse me, sir, but what are you doing?” a kind but firm voice suddenly asked.
Both Tom and Haley jumped, the latter coming up to his feet from where he’d been kneeling in front of Tom, fixing the previously discarded shackles at his ankles and mumbling about Tom being incapable of taking care of himself any more than a child.
Haley turned to the man who had spoken, his face thunderous and his eyes narrowed dangerously. “Don’t think it’s any of your business what I’m doin’, stranger,” he said sharply, looking the man up and down.
Tom gave the man a long, wondering look. He was very well dressed, in sharp white linen, with a lemon-yellow shirt and a purple waistcoat. On his head he wore a broad white hat, which did much to shade his face but did not disguise the sandy blond color of his hair. Or the twinkle in his eye.
And though Tom knew he should not, he gave the man a quick grin, unable to stop himself. For in front of him he recognized none other than Eva’s father. And it was clear to see, now, where Eva had won both her face and her spirit, for this man was like her in almost every way.
Haley, however, did not seem to recognize the man, for he carried on with his abuse.
“Don’t see how it can be your business, sir, what I’m doing with my own property,” he snapped. “Man is a reckless one, and a danger to both himself and others. Can’t have him endangerin’ my investment that way. And who are you that you’re asking so freely?” he finished with a snarl.
“Why, I am the very man that’s come to thank him for that very reckless behavior of which you speak,” the stranger drawled, twitching his mouth as if he were making fun of Haley. Suddenly he stuck out his hand. “The name is Augustine St. Clare, and I’m pleased to make your acquaintance. The fact is, sir, that this man saved my daughter not ten minutes past, and I’ve a mind to thank him.”
And with that, Haley’s entire demeanor changed. Rather than scowling at the man, he sorted his features into an expression of beauteous welcome and gratitude and dipped his head respectfully.
“I didn’t recognize you, sir, and that’s the truth,” he said, groveling. “Why, if I’d known it was you, I wouldn’t’ve spoken that way, no sir. Fact is, I was just here congratulatin’ the boy for actin’ so brave-like. Honor to have his papers, so it is. Glad to have him with me.” And though Haley was doing his best to be respectful, Tom caught the acquisitive gleam in his eye and realized with a start that the trader had already seen a way to use this situation to his own advantage.
Tom sucked on his lip for a moment, hating that he had no say in the matter, but turned back to St. Clare, hoping that the man had good news for him.
St. Clare gave Tom a quick grin and then turned to Haley. “The fact is, sir, that I’ve a mind to take this man off your hands. My daughter has taken a liking to him, and seeing as how he just saved her life, I feel I owe him as much. What’s your price?”
Haley pushed his lips in and out, his eyes narrowed in thought, and was just about to answer when another man suddenly approached.
“Trader!” the man shouted, clapping a hand to Haley’s back. “Got a mind to buy that Negro of yours. Strong boy, ain’t he? Went right in after that girl. Got a mind to put him to work as a coachman.”
“Sir, I believe I made the first offer,” St. Clare said laughingly. “I’ve already made an offer on this man for my cotton plantation in Louisiana.”
“Fact is, you’d both be lucky if’n I sold him at all,” Haley cut in. “Man’s as strong and honest as they come, so his old master told me. Was responsible for the entire plantation, I heard. None so pious as him, and even got some book learnin’. Come to think of it, not sure I want to give ’im up just yet. Trustworthy, honest, smart—ain’t often you get a Negro with those traits.”
“Come, come, sir, you’re in the trading business, and we all know what that means,” St. Clare said quickly, placing his hand on Haley’s arm. “What’s your price? My daughter has her mind set on him, and I won’t disappoint her.”
“I’ll double anything he offers,” the other man said quickly.
“And I’ll triple his offer,” St. Clare responded. He turned to the other stranger. “Sir, I do not know you, but I can guarantee this—when it comes to my daughter’s happiness, there is no amount I won’t pay. You’re fighting a losing battle, friend.”
“One thousand,” the other man responded arrogantly. “I suppose you’ll beat that?”
“Gladly,” St. Clare answered, hardly turning a hair. “Fifteen hundred, and it shall be no difficulty to go higher. I doubt you can say the same.” He gave the other man’s clothing a long look, and Tom could see exactly what St. Clare meant. Whereas the Louisiana planter was dressed in the finest cloth Tom had ever seen, the other man was in rough homespun and didn’t look as though he could afford to bid any higher.
The other man, though, snorted. “I’ll give you two thousand for him,” he said distinctly. “And I doubt this man will do the same.”
St. Clare pressed his lips together and breathed sharply through his nose. “That’s quite a sum for a coachman, sir.”
“I take it you won’t match, then?” the other man asked archly. He turned and stuck his hand out to Haley. “In which case I suppose the deal’s done. Draw up the paperwork, trader, and we’ll call it a day.”
Tom watched, feeling quite numbed by the entire thing. His heart broke at the thought of not going with Eva and her father, but he couldn’t quite bring himself to care as much as he thought he should. He’d had no say in his own future, after all; why should he bother with caring too much whether it was with one man or the other?
26
George took his time walking home, stopping at a pub for a drink on his way, and then nearly getting in a fight with a patron he thought looked at him wrong. Before he could start swinging, though, George had a moment of very clear understanding and realized two things: first, that the fight was about more than just the man at the bar, and second, that fighting now would only land him in more trouble than he’d already won.
And that would never do. He already dreaded the idea of going home to Eliza and the others and telling them what had happened. Fighting—and perhaps being arrested for the trouble—would only make things worse.
So, in a move most unlike him, George turned and walked away, despite the fact that the man was still shouting insults after him. He needed to get home and figure out what he was going to do next.
By the time he arrived at Jim’s house, Jim, Anita, and Eliza had already supped and gone to bed, and George dawdled over washing his hands and face, his mind doing its best not to think about what had happened with the machinist. Things would look better in the morning, he promised himself. They always did. The nighttime saw his mind taking time for itself, and he often woke up with the answers to questions that had been plaguing him for an entire day.
He only hoped that tomorrow would be the same. He lay down next to Eliza, his last thought before his eyes closed a prayer that there might be some answer out there to his struggles.
* * *
When he opened his eyes again in the morning, after a night of tossing and turning and trying desperately not to think too much, he saw that the day had dawned bright and clear—one of those painfully sunny days in the midst of the cold weather, when one could look outside and imagine that spring had come again. He stared out the window for a moment, drifting in the space between asleep and awake, and poking around in his head for what his dreams might have been about.
Machines, he remembered. Bright, gleaming machines of w
ood and metal and gears. He’d been building them in his dreams, with his drawings spread all over what he had thought, in the dream, to be his own shop. A shop where he invented, drew, and then built machines for clients who all treated him as an equal.
He stopped, memory suddenly coming back to him, and heard from the kitchen the sound of Harry’s voice as he laughed at something someone had said. With that, George sat up abruptly, all hazy happiness gone. Yes, he’d dreamt about building machines, but that was not his reality, he remembered. The reality was that he’d been fired by the machinist for the very thing on which George most depended: his own principles, and his willingness to defend them against those who would try to beat him down.
In short, Mr. White had fired him for exactly the same reason Jim had said that George could no longer work in the carpentry shop. He had stood up for his right to be an equal in this society. And many of the customers didn’t like that.
Well, he thought angrily, throwing his feet out of bed and to the floor, wasn’t that just too bad for them? For this was a free country, and as such, promised that men such as George—and Jim—had the right to work as they pleased and provide goods and services to the people of the town without judgment or prejudice. If some of the people were unwilling to accept that, it was nothing to him! There must be plenty of people who would. Surely he would find many people who could recognize in him a strong, intelligent man and see the talent in his work. Surely he would find that there were people with open minds here in this country he’d worked so hard to reach.
