Brides of Georgia

by Connie Stevens

  “Belle, I—”

  “Stop and consider what you’re doing, Auralie. Most people frown on teaching Negros to read, whether they’re free or not.” The pleading tone in Belle’s voice pinched Auralie’s heart.

  A heavy sigh escaped and she crossed to take up her copy of Wuthering Heights again. Controlling her frustration, she settled into the chair. “I’m quite aware of the public opinion. I happen to disagree.”

  Belle thrust her hands out to her sides. “There are thousands of white people who can’t read.”

  Auralie nodded. “Yes, but in most cases, they don’t care to learn. They weren’t denied the privilege.”

  “You taught Mammy to read, didn’t you?”

  Auralie sucked in a breath. For years, she and Mammy kept their secret, and it thrilled her every time she saw Mammy pick up the Bible. “Yes. It’s a blessing to know she can read God’s Word for herself. I don’t regret it.”

  “Does your father know she can read?”

  “Of course not.” She stood and approached the window where Belle still stood. “You know what would happen if he found out.”

  “Auralie, you’re asking for trouble.” Belle returned her gaze to the bookcase. “I don’t think I have anything here you can use.”

  Auralie’s heart grieved the silence between her and Belle in the carriage all the way to church. The space in the carriage echoed, devoid of their usual chatter and teasing. Even at the dinner table last night their stilted conversation remained limited to the weather and other inane topics. They’d been so close all their lives. How could one disagreement carve such a chasm between them?

  Sam halted the carriage in front of the church and hastened to help the ladies disembark. Auralie followed Belle into the church and found their seats just as the service was beginning. She glanced across the aisle where Colton generally sat.

  The black wool coat Colton normally wore to church was absent, no doubt due to the warmer temperatures. Instead, he sat in his shirtsleeves and string tie, looking as handsome as ever, except for the scowl on his face. He appeared as troubled as Auralie felt. She longed to press her fingers to his brow and smooth out the worries she saw etched there, but she didn’t know what to do with her own burdens. How could she expect to comfort Colton, for whom she cared so much?

  He glanced over at her, as if he could feel her gaze upon him. A small smile tipped the corners of his mouth. The now-familiar tingle she felt every time Colton smiled tiptoed through her.

  She shifted her gaze to Belle who sat stiffly beside her. She didn’t wish to cause her cousin distress. Perhaps it was time for her to go home. The only trouble was Covington Plantation didn’t feel like home, and she couldn’t look out the window there and see Colton’s sheep and cornfield.

  After the hymn singing, Pastor Shuford stepped into the pulpit and invited the congregation to open their Bibles to the book of Matthew, chapter twenty-five. Auralie followed along as he read the words of Jesus, describing the ministering to the hungry, thirsty, naked, and lonely.

  “‘And the King shall answer and say unto them, Verily I say unto you, Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me.’”

  Pastor Shuford went on to explain giving from the heart and expecting nothing in return, seeking injustices and remedying them with no thought to self. The preacher challenged his flock to find someone to whom they could minister—someone who could not reciprocate.

  Auralie soaked up the words like a dry sponge. How she’d fretted her lack of purpose, the absence of usefulness, her china doll existence. Her heart cried out to God. Lord, use me. Let my hands be filled with something worthwhile to minister to those who have no means to repay a kindness—unto the least of these. Moisture burned her eyes and she blinked, but a tear escaped anyway. She discreetly dashed it away. She closed her eyes during the final prayer and inquired at God’s throne if teaching people like Mammy and Barnabas to read was her calling.

  When she opened her eyes, she found Belle looking at her with a mixture of confusion and pain in her expression. The congregation began filing out, pausing at the door to shake the preacher’s hand. The line moved slowly and just before she arrived at the door, she felt fingers squeeze hers. She glanced down. Belle held fast to her hand.

  They greeted Pastor Shuford and thanked him, then made their way to the carriage.

  “Allow me.”

  The voice Auralie heard in her dreams turned her head. Colton stepped over and offered his hand. She placed her hand in his, and his smile sent butterfly wings fluttering through her middle.

  He swept his hat off. “It’s nice to see you, Auralie.”

  Her breath caught, and for a moment she forgot where she was. If only she could feel the touch of his hand and hear him utter her name every day for the rest of her life. For the briefest of moments, she wondered if God would mind if she’d add that to her prayer.

  “It’s nice seeing you as well…Colton.”

  Belle cleared her throat, rattling Auralie’s consciousness. Colton still held her hand. A rush of heat skittered up her neck into her face.

  Colton handed her up into the carriage and aided Belle up as well. He fidgeted with the brim of his hat. “I’d like to talk to you sometime. If that’s all right.”

  Auralie gave him a soft smile. “I’d like that. Perhaps tomorrow?”

  Colton nodded. “I could come by.”

  Auralie’s smile widened, and the heat in her face intensified. “I think I’d like to meet you at the pasture. I love watching the lambs.”

  “That’d be fine.” Colton took a step backward. “Until tomorrow.” And the carriage pulled away.

  She and Belle rode in silence for a couple of minutes before her cousin spoke. “I saw your tears in church.” She reached across the seat and covered Auralie’s hand with hers. “I really didn’t understand.”

  “I know.” Auralie swallowed hard. “I’m not sure I understood myself. Do you remember when I complained to you about not having a purpose except to be nothing more than a china doll?”

  Belle smiled. “I remember.”

  “And do you remember when you said you wanted me to see how it could be if I did my own choosing?”

  Belle’s smile deepened. “I remember that, too.”

  Auralie twisted around in her seat to face Belle. “Well, I’ve decided to let God do my choosing for me.”

  Chapter 16

  Auralie clutched the storybook close to her heart. “Oh Belle, how can I ever thank you?”

  Belle dabbed a tear away from her eye and shrugged. “No thank-you is necessary. As I told you after church yesterday—I understand now.” She touched the book with her fingertips. “This was mine when I was little. I was saving it for when I had children, but—” She slipped both arms around Auralie. “There’s no reason why you can’t use it now.”

  A thrill ran through Auralie. Her cousin understood—really understood. “Belle, I’ll never forget this.” She gave her a squeeze. “I can’t wait to show Colton.”

  “Well then, go.” Belle laughed and pushed her away. She flapped her hands, shooing Auralie out the door.

  Invisible wings carried Auralie across the meadow. In the distance, Colton worked on the rail fence that divided the sheep pasture from the cornfield. This time, her brother wouldn’t stop her. Excitement bubbled within her at the prospect of opening Barnabas’s eyes to the world of written words.

  “Colton!” She waved when he looked up.

  He returned her wave and came to meet her. “You’re certainly in a joyful disposition this morning.”

  Breathless from hurrying, she beamed at him. “Yes, I am.” She held out the storybook. “I hope Barnabas won’t be offended, but the words in this book are easy, and until he learns how the letters sound and—”

  Colton held up his hand. “Whoa.” He laughed. “There’s no need for apology. This is a very kind thing you’re doing.” He glanced toward the Hancock home. �
��Are you sure it’s all right with your cousin? Some folks don’t approve.”

  Auralie tilted her head and gave him a nod. “At first, she didn’t understand my desire to see people like Barnabas learn to read. But after yesterday’s sermon, she had a change of heart.”

  “Ah, ‘unto the least of these’.” Colton smiled.

  Her throat tightened. “This book belonged to Belle when she was little. She was saving it for her own children.”

  “Then we shall take very good care of it so we can return it to her in good condition.” He reached out and grasped her hand. “Come on. Barnabas is repairing the lean-to.”

  The warmth and gentle strength of his hand quickened her pulse and set butterflies loose in her middle.

  As they neared the cabin, Colton grinned down at her then hollered for Barnabas. A moment later, the former slave stuck his head out of the lean-to.

  “Wha’sa matter, Mistah Colton?” He set his tools down and trotted around the corner of the house. He stopped short when he saw Auralie. “Miz Covington.” He dipped his head.

  Bursting with excitement, Auralie motioned to the bench and rockers on the front porch. “Let’s sit down.”

  Barnabas shifted his feet, obviously uncomfortable being seated in Auralie’s presence. She looked up at him and gestured toward the bench. “Please.”

  He eyed the book in her hands, and she turned it so he could see the front. “Barnabas, I realize this is a child’s book and you’re a man. But this book is a wonderful starting place for learning to read. If you’d like, I’d love to teach you.” Her heart leaped for joy when his eyes widened and a slow, broad smile stretched across his face.

  “You hear dat, Mistah Colton?” His deep voice broke. “I’s gonna learn to read!”

  Auralie’s heart swelled with joy until she wasn’t sure her body could contain it. She swiped at a tear and opened the book to the first page.

  Colton hated leaving the next morning, especially after watching Barnabas’s face glow when he read his first word—dog. But he decided to take Jack McCaffey’s advice and confirm the land deed records at the county seat. He rode into Mount Yonah by midafternoon. The building being used temporarily to house the county records wasn’t hard to find. A crude sign nailed above the door declared it the courthouse, even though it in no way resembled such a building. The residents of the county seat proudly anticipated the completion of the official new courthouse—a fine brick building—before the year was out. In the meantime, the ramshackle framed structure before him served as county offices and courtroom, if it didn’t fall down first.

  Colton stabled Jasper and then strode back to the courthouse. Two dirty windows at either end of the building allowed in muted light. A man sat at a desk in the corner with his back to the door, diligently laboring over paperwork.

  Colton removed his hat. “Excuse me.”

  The man looked over his shoulder and turned the paper he was working on facedown. “Yessir, can I help you?”

  “Yes, you may. I need to look up the recording of a forty-acre tract of land down near Juniper Springs.”

  The clerk rose from his chair, his legs bumping it backwards. His blond hair splayed out in multiple directions. “J–Juniper Springs, you say?”

  Colton laid his hat on a long table that sat under one of the grimy windows. “That’s right. It would have been recorded in March of 1856. Where might I find that record book?”

  The clerk fumbled through two shelves of bound journals, pulling one out and pushing it back in, stacking three on the desk and then replacing them. Colton watched him, nonplussed. He assumed the records were all kept in chronological order. Finally, after shuffling several volumes, the young man pulled out the book that lay on the bottom of the stack—the one that had sat on the corner of the desk when Colton entered.

  “Here it is. What would you like me to look up for you?”

  The clerk’s nervous mannerisms and disorganization raised Colton’s suspicion. “If you don’t mind, I’d rather look up the entry myself. These records are all public, are they not?”

  “Well, yes…but, uh, some of the records aren’t completed yet, so you might not be able to find them.”

  “Not completed?” Colton’s eyebrows rose along with his misgivings. “The record I’m looking for dates back over four years ago. Seems to me there’s been ample time to record the deed.”

  He stepped forward and reached for the volume in the clerk’s hands, but the young man held on to it. Beads of sweat popped out on the fellow’s forehead and upper lip. Colton kept his voice even but firm.

  “Sir, as a citizen of this county, I have the right to search any of these public records. I really don’t want to go get the constable, but I will if I have to.”

  The clerk reluctantly released the book and pressed his lips into a tight, thin line. Colton carried the journal to the table under the window. He turned pages until he found February 1856. He ran his finger down to the end of the page. The next page bore two listings entered at the end of March, and then the rest of the page contained April records.

  Odd. Colton remembered the day like it was yesterday. Pastor Winslow had told Colton he knew his time on this earth was growing short, and he wanted all his affairs in order. Colton still recalled the grief that sliced through him at his dear friend’s announcement. The two of them had come to the county seat together, and Colton had watched as the preacher recorded his will, and signed over ownership of his land to Colton.

  He turned to get the clerk’s attention, only to find him standing a few steps away, watching over Colton’s shoulder. “There seems to be a page missing. March 12, 1856.”

  The young man wiped his hands on his pants. “Uh, that’s…that was before I worked here.” An unmistakable tremor resonated in his voice.

  Colton stood and crossed his arms over his chest. “Are you not responsible for all the records in this office, those established before you were employed as well as after?”

  Muscles in the clerk’s neck twitched and he blanched.

  Pieces of the puzzle didn’t all quite fit together yet, but Colton was getting a clearer picture of how they were cut. “I don’t know what’s going on here, but I do know this.” He stabbed his finger on the open pages of the book he’d been examining. “All that juggling around of the books you did was meant to cover up the fact that this ledger was already on your desk when I walked in.” He slid his finger along the bound edge of the pages where they joined the spine. “It’s not hard to see a page has been torn out. Is that what you were working on when I came in? Is that the paper you turned over so I wouldn’t see it?”

  The clerk’s eyes shifted to and fro. When he thrust his hand out, it trembled. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I just work here and do as I’m told.”

  “And who told you to tear out that page? Was it Maxwell Rayburn?”

  A droplet of sweat dribbled down the clerk’s temple. He appeared about to crumple in a heap on the floor. “I don’t know anyone by that name.”

  Colton stuck his thumbs in his pockets. “Are you going to let me see that page you were working on?”

  “No. Th–that’s—it’s, uh, confidential.”

  Anger churned in Colton’s stomach, but no good would come of him losing his temper. “I don’t know how much you were paid to alter these records, but it’s not worth going to jail.” He closed the ledger and tucked it under his arm, picked up his hat, and started for the door.

  “Wait! Where are you taking that book?”

  Colton turned. The fellow looked like he was going to be sick.

  “To the constable’s office. Would you like come along?”

  “Look, mister, I was just following orders.”

  Colton shifted the volume to the other arm. “Whose orders?”

  All the fight seeped out of the young clerk, who probably only saw the altering of the records as a chance to make some extra money. He blew out a stiff breath. “By order of Shelby Covingto
n.”

  Auralie and Belle carried their teacups to the side porch and settled into the comfortable chairs. The latest edition of the Sentinel lay on the small table between them. The headline proclaimed Shelby Covington’s political ambitions and promises. The words sent conflicting emotions swirling in Auralie’s stomach.

  “I’ve come to realize this arranged marriage to Perry is but one piece in a monumental quagmire. Father is using me as a pawn in a political game of chess.” She set her teacup on the table. “He wants the governor’s mansion, and he’ll use whatever means necessary to get there.”

  Belle settled her cup into its saucer. “I hate to think Uncle Shelby would do such a thing, but I’m afraid you’re right. What are you going to do?”

  Auralie released a sigh. “I don’t know. After months of fretting and weeks of praying, I think I’ve finally placed the issue in God’s hands. Now if I can just leave it there—”

  She avoided filling in the blank. The truth was she still struggled with doubts, but if her faith were ever to grow, fully trusting God with every part of her life was the answer.

  A muffled sniff sounded from Belle. Auralie turned and found her cousin blotting away a tear with her napkin. Between being in the family way and missing her husband, her cousin’s weepiness attacked with regularity. Auralie reached over to pat Belle’s hand.

  “Missing Lloyd?”

  Belle sniffed again. “Yes, but I’m frightened, too.” She gestured to the newspaper. “Did you read the article on page two? The one about the state militia?”

  Auralie shook her head. “I know there’s been talk.”

  “They’re saying they aren’t waiting to see who will win the election, and they’re beginning to form a state militia now.” Belle swallowed, her effort to be brave evident. “They say they want to be ready in case Lincoln is elected and Georgia secedes. Lloyd mentioned in his last letter that a lot of men are signing up already.”

  “Did he say he plans to sign up?”

  “No, but I fear that’s what he’s implying.”