Aunt Laura was showing off Amelia’s birthday gift to a couple of matrons while Uncle Francis bid good night to an older couple. A red-haired young man bearing down on her position at the edge of the dance floor had Amelia turning away quickly. She pretended to trip and faked a groan. She told the approaching suitor she had to repair her dress and hurried to the nearest exit, proud of her quick thinking.
The narrow hall leading to the back door was cool and quiet. The crisp air felt good for a few minutes in contrast to the overheated ballroom, but as she reached to open the door, Amelia wished she’d brought her shawl with her. It was lying across the back of a chair in the ballroom, so she would have to do without it.
The back door opened and Amelia caught her breath, releasing it all at once when she recognized Tabitha’s high cheekbones and simple hairstyle.
“What are you doing here?” Tabitha glanced over her shoulder before stepping into the hallway and closing the door. “You need to get back to your birthday party. Someone will come looking for you.”
“I thought you might need help. How are they?”
“Scared, as you can imagine. But safe for the moment.” Tabitha looked down at her apron, and Amelia realized it was streaked with dirt and blood.
“Are you hurt?” Amelia looked for signs of a wound.
Tabitha shook her head. “I had to bandage the child.”
“Was there a bullet? Did you get it out?” Amelia fired the questions out in quick succession. “Was anyone else hurt?”
Tabitha’s smile showed her weariness. “Yes, no, and no.”
“You didn’t remove the bullet?”
“It went straight through the little boy’s arm.” She sighed. “It broke a bone on the way.”
Amelia winced.
“I’ve seen worse back home during the harvest.” Tabitha’s voice sounded weary.
Amelia knew it was true. Accidents and sickness occurred, even on a plantation that was as progressively run as Papa’s. She and Mama had spent many an afternoon patching up machete injuries and setting broken bones. But they’d never had to deal with a bullet wound. Mama had showed her how to treat such wounds this summer after Tennessee seceded from the Union. Who knew when the need to treat bullet wounds might arise? Mama believed it was their duty to be prepared for such an eventuality.
“Infection is the biggest danger then.” Amelia took Tabitha’s hand in her own and squeezed. “I know you did a good job, but I’d like to see the child for myself.”
The back door opened again, and the cook and some of the staff filed in one by one. Amelia registered their surprise and fear at her presence.
Tabitha took a few minutes to reassure them before leading Amelia to the stable out back.
The wooden structure was dark and quiet since Uncle Francis had hired a public livery stable down the street for the guests’ horses. Amelia stood still for a moment, waiting for her eyes to adapt to the darkness. The night air seemed to absorb sounds and made Amelia feel miles away from the music and dancing of the birthday ball.
Tabitha pursed her lips and whistled, moving her mouth and tongue so that the sound imitated the call of a bird. Another bird warbled some feet ahead of where they stood.
“It’s Tabitha. I have a friend with me.”
The darkness near the stable door seemed to thicken and became a short, stocky man whom Amelia recognized as the Montgomerys’ senior coachman. He waved them inside the stable. Not a word was spoken as he led them to the rear of the building and opened the door of the room used to store saddles and bridles. A kerosene lantern flickered in the corner of the tiny room, highlighting the frightened, dark faces of half-a-dozen occupants.
A muscular man pushed himself from the floor and stood to face Amelia and Tabitha. “What are you doing here?”
His smooth, dark skin stretched across high cheekbones, and intelligence shone from his coffee-brown eyes. His dark clothing looked tattered, but he held himself with all the self-assurance of a prince—chin up, shoulders straight, and legs wide. He crossed his arms across his broad chest and stared at her.
Tabitha bit her lip and looked toward Amelia. “This is Melek, Cook’s son. Melek, this is Amelia. She’s a friend who knows medicine. She’s come to look at Nebo’s arm.”
“You trust her?” Melek’s voice was deep and full of suspicion.
Amelia understood his doubt. Someone who accepted strangers easily would soon be caught by bounty hunters and sold back into slavery or hung for treason. She stepped forward. “I would never betray you or those you are trying to help.” She lifted her chin and refused to back down as Melek glared at her. Her heart thumped so hard she thought the people in the room might be able to hear it. What was she doing here? She could be inside dancing the night away instead of standing in a dark barn confronting an angry man. Yet something compelled her to her present actions.
No one spoke for a moment, and the tension built. But then one small sound changed everything. A quiet moan.
Amelia remembered why she had come. She followed the sound to a mound of what she’d taken to be rags. This must be the child.
“Nebo.” She whispered the word and was rewarded when a dark head raised up from the ragged coverings.
The other people in the room faded as she knelt next to the young boy and checked his arm, then placed a hand on his hot forehead. “You’re a very brave boy.”
Amelia pushed herself up from the floor and faced the cook’s son. “I have some willow bark in my room. I can send it down to your mother to make a tea for the child. It should bring him some ease and may reduce his fever.”
He inclined his head slightly. “Thank you.”
She nodded to the others in the room. “Do you need anything else?”
“Only that you will not speak of our presence here.”
She straightened her shoulders and stared directly into his eyes. “I would never do such a thing.”
“I hope your words are true, not the changing songs of the mockingbird.”
A laugh broke out as she thought of the gift she had received for her birthday. “Your secret is safe with me.”
❧
A blush heated Amelia’s cheeks as she hurried down the hall to a mirror to check her appearance before returning to the ballroom. She groaned at the bedraggled woman who stared back at her.
Tabitha had fixed rosebuds in her hair earlier this evening, but they had slipped toward her right ear. She poked and prodded at the silly things until they once again perched across the center part in her hair. Pulling a pin from another part of her head, she affixed the flowers and nodded briefly. She opened her fan and waved it in front of her hot cheeks. It wouldn’t do to return to the guests flushed.
Amelia glanced downward and groaned. Her skirt was a mess. She smoothed it as much as possible without help and picked off a couple of strands of straw that had clung to the material when she knelt to care for poor little Nebo. Amelia would have liked to escape upstairs, change clothes, and go back to the stable to watch over the child. But that option was out of the question. She squared her shoulders and practiced a smile before turning from the mirror.
The orchestra was taking a break, so the people in the ballroom were standing in small groups talking as she made her entrance. She glanced around to find Jared, eager to resume their conversation about Mr. Dickens and his novels.
“Where have you been, cousin?” Benjamin’s deep voice tickled her ear.
Amelia jumped slightly. She’d not realized anyone was behind her. She spun around and opened her fan, waving it briskly in front of her face. “I had a slight tear in my flounce.” The lie slipped easily between her lips and guilt made her heart beat faster. She hadn’t had much practice at telling untruths. “It took me awhile to get it mended.”
Benjamin nodded. He spread a h
and to indicate the ballroom. “It seems your ardent swains have given up, and I must say I’m relieved. This is the first time I’ve gotten to talk to you without being elbowed by a dozen eager suitors.”
“Your mother and father have been very kind to introduce me to their friends.” Amelia glanced around the room, hoping to find Jared Stuart, but she could not spot his slender figure. “I’m sure everyone was being kind to me because I’m a newcomer.”
Her cousin raised an eyebrow and started talking about her taking the town by storm, but Amelia didn’t pay him much attention. She wasn’t interested in making a splash in Knoxville society.
Where had Jared gone? Had he left for the evening? Disappointment pulled her lips down, but then she straightened her spine. She would not allow the absence of one guest to disturb her. She had more important things to worry about. Like how little Nebo was doing. Amelia could hardly wait for the party to end so she could return to check on the child.
Momentary regret for her involvement with the Underground Railroad was pushed to the back of her mind. What choice did she have? She would never be able to live with herself if she didn’t do what she could to make the slaves’ flight successful.
Even as she smiled at her cousin and pretended to be flattered by his compliments, part of her mind made a list of necessities to smuggle to the hidden refugees.
Seven
As he walked across the campus, Jared pulled up the collar of his greatcoat. The rough wool scratched his chin, but the material kept cold air from reaching his neck. He waved at one of the freshmen as they passed each other but did not stop to talk. It was far too brisk out this morning, and he wanted to get to class in plenty of time to hear the lecture. He lowered his head and trudged onward through the cool, morning air.
“Wait up.” Benjamin’s deep voice drew his attention from the frosty ground.
Jared looked over his shoulder and let out an exasperated sigh. “I thought you were going to march with the early parade and go to Whitsell’s makeup class since you performed so poorly on that last geography exam.”
A shrug answered him. Benjamin’s mischievous grin appeared, raising Jared’s suspicions. “Maybe I wanted to hear the infamous newspaper editor.”
“I wish William Brownlow had been able to come.” Jared turned back to the pathway leading to North College, the name given to the northernmost building of the university.
Benjamin caught up with him and slung an arm over his shoulder. “I know. But after all the strife he was igniting with the anti-secession views in his newspaper, it’s no wonder he had to run for his life. If the people of East Tennessee had gotten their way, you and I would be Unionists instead of Johnny Rebs. Since the occupation of the Confederate Army, things have been tense between the two groups, and his inflammatory pieces weren’t helping much.”
“Inflammatory pieces?” Jared shook off his friend’s arm. “Didn’t he have the right to print what he believed?”
“Don’t get angry with me.” Benjamin raised both his hands as if he was preparing to ward off a blow. “I didn’t say there wasn’t some truth in his articles, but you read them. In fact you read several of them to me. You have to admit Parson Brownlow doesn’t know the meaning of tact.”
“It’s not a newspaper’s job to be tactful. Every newspaper has a duty to inform its readers of the facts. Don’t you remember studying Thomas Carlyle’s reference to reporters as the Fourth Estate? He believed it was more important than the church, the nobility, or the middle class. Although I disagree with his putting journalists above the importance of the church, I do believe they hold great power and even greater responsibility, especially now that we are at war.” Jared realized he’d stopped walking. He was going to be late. And he’d wanted to be early. “I don’t want to debate this with you, Benjamin. I’m going to class. I’m sure Martin Stone has a lot to say about the importance of newspaper publishing. He is the editor of the Tennessee Tribune, and it’s become the largest publication since Brownlow’s Whig was put out of business.” He started walking again.
“You’re right.” Benjamin matched his pace. “Why do you think I decided to tag along this morning?”
Jared didn’t answer. He reached the steps of North College and bounded up them two at a time. He pulled open the heavy door and held it open for Benjamin to precede him. “I don’t really know why you’re here. You’ve never shown the least interest in writing.”
Benjamin pushed his chest out. “I’m turning over a new leaf. I’m going to concentrate on writing.” He linked his arm through Jared’s as they climbed the stairs to the second floor. “Maybe we can open a newspaper of our own. Isn’t that how your hero Brownlow got started? Then we can publish our own beliefs and change the world.”
A snort escaped Jared. “Don’t you remember how you struggled over that essay last week? I doubt you are eager to become a writer.”
“Maybe you could do the writing.” Benjamin grinned at him. “And I can manage the other aspects of the business. Think of how famous we’ll be when our efforts end the war.”
Benjamin’s words seemed to echo in the wide hallway. Jared was reminded of his belief that words really could make a difference. Excitement buzzed through him. “The pen is mightier than the sword, right?”
“I don’t know about all that,” Benjamin answered. “But it’s certainly much lighter to wield.”
❧
Amelia sneaked down to the barn before joining her aunt and uncle at the breakfast table. Little Nebo’s forehead was hot, but that was to be expected. She coaxed him to drink another draught of the willow bark tea Melek’s mother, the cook, had prepared. When she pulled away the bandage covering his arm, she was relieved to see it was not swollen or draining. She glanced at Melek, who watched her from one corner of the tack room.
Melek asked, “What is your opinion, little mockingbird?”
“I think he will recover.”
“Can he travel today?”
She shook her head as she replaced the dressing. “He needs sleep to fully recover.”
“If he is caught here, his captors will not be concerned about his rest.”
Amelia’s lips straightened. “Would you rather kill him yourself by moving him too soon?”
Silence was her only answer. She finished her work and looked around. At least six people crowded in the little room. “Does anyone else need my help?”
Declining whispers and headshakes answered her. Amelia pushed herself up from the pallet holding Nebo and closed her bag of medicines.
Melek escorted her from the room. “Thank you.”
“I will check back later.”
“No. You must stay away or your family may become suspicious.”
His warning echoed in her mind as Amelia hurried to the breakfast room. She seated herself and bowed her head briefly over the plate that was set in front of her. When she had finished blessing her food, she listened to her uncle’s latest diatribe.
“I’m afraid women simply don’t understand these things.” Uncle Francis’s comment was not intended to irritate Amelia, but that’s the effect it had. Her mouth dropped open, but he continued on, oblivious to her consternation. “Tennessee had no choice but to secede from the Union when Lincoln called for troops to fight against our brothers at Fort Sumter.”
A thousand emotional retorts filled her imagination, but Amelia opted for logic. “Then why did Kentucky refuse to follow our lead?”
Uncle Francis shook his head and glanced toward Aunt Laura before answering Amelia’s question. “My dear, suffice it to say Kentucky has many reasons to declare neutrality. Politics are often convoluted. Better to ask whether our brothers in Kentucky wish to abolish slavery. The answer would be a resounding no.” He folded the newspaper he’d been reading and slapped it against the table for emphasis. “I have little doubt Kentucky
will bow to the inevitable before the end of the year and join the Confederacy.”
“I’m sure you’re right, my dear.” Aunt Laura washed a bite of toast down with her cup of tea. “If the war lasts that long. I pray every night it will end before any more young men are killed or wounded. I’m so concerned about our son’s eagerness to join the fighting.”
“I don’t want to see him enlist any more than you do, but Benjamin is a grown man. We raised him to take pride in his heritage.” Uncle Francis reached a hand across the table, palm up. “We must allow him to make his own decisions even if we’d prefer to keep him safe at home.”
Aunt Laura placed her hand in his. The look that passed between them was full of love and tenderness.
A rush of empathy filled Amelia. Her aunt and uncle were good people. They were obviously worried about their son’s future. And hadn’t they welcomed her with open arms? They’d made sure she was introduced to all the right people. She appreciated the lavish ball they’d thrown for her birthday and felt more than a little guilt over helping the escaping slaves when she knew her relatives would never approve of her actions.
Aunt Laura pulled her hand away and turned her gaze to Amelia. Her eyes were suspiciously bright, but she cleared her throat and forced her lips into a shaky smile. “What do you have planned for today, my dear?”
Amelia was thankful for the change of subject. “Luke Talbot is supposed to come over later this morning. We are going riding in the park.”
“That Talbot fellow is getting to be a regular visitor.” Uncle Francis raised his eyebrows. “I don’t know when he has time for studies.”
A blush crept up Amelia’s throat and heated her face. “Luke has always been like an older brother to me.”
“Yes, I thought at first that was his reason for coming over, to make sure you were comfortable in your new surroundings.” Aunt Laura’s smile widened. “But you have been with us for almost two months now. He must have some other compelling reason to continue his attentions.”
Mockingbird's Call Page 6
