by Ginny Dye
Matthew had expected the trains coming from northern cities to be congested, but he was surprised the train leaving Richmond was so crowded. It didn’t take him long to realize the train was full of northerners who had come south when Richmond fell two weeks earlier. They were all returning to say a final goodbye to the man who had held the Union together against all odds.
Matthew’s chest tightened as the reality of Lincoln’s death hit him once more. His eyes blurred as he tried to imagine the future without Lincoln’s steady presence and political savviness.
“What do you know about President Johnson?” Aunt Abby asked. “I’m afraid I know so little, other than that he was inaugurated as vice president just six weeks ago on March fourth.”
“And no one has seen much of him since then,” Matthew responded ruefully, glad for the question because it set him free from his own thoughts. “I’m afraid his inauguration was something of a debacle.”
“Oh?”
“He was already hungover from a party the night before, and then a few shots of whiskey that day had him quite drunk when he got up to give his speech. I understand he rambled on for quite a while, not making any sense for periods of it, before he finally sat down to let Lincoln speak.”
“Oh dear…” Aunt Abby murmured.
“He’s been pretty much hiding out at a friend’s house from sheer embarrassment since then,” Matthew continued. “He showed up in the Senate a time or two, but other than that, no one has seen him. I heard from a colleague at the station this morning that he had his first meeting with Lincoln since the inauguration on the morning of April fourteenth.”
Aunt Abby grimaced. “And that night President Lincoln was assassinated.” She took a deep breath. “Well, it’s certainly not a grand beginning, but there must have been good reason for Lincoln to put him on the ticket last fall.”
“Yes, there must have been a reason,” another man said.
Only then did Matthew realize their conversation had drawn an audience. Several men and women in the seats surrounding them had turned to listen, their eyes full of avid curiosity about the man who was suddenly the president of a country that had just ended a four-year civil war.
“I’ll tell you what I know,” Matthew replied, glad he had recently finished an article on Johnson for the Philadelphia Tribune, and also thankful for what he learned from Sam in Richmond. “President Johnson grew up in poverty in North Carolina. His father died when he was just three years old. When he was ten, his mother apprenticed him out to a tailor until he was twenty-one. When he was fifteen, he ran away.”
“Rough beginning,” Aunt Abby murmured. “And now to be president…”
“Yes. He went back after a few years and tried to buy out the rest of his apprenticeship, but he and the tailor couldn’t reach an agreement, so he headed west to Tennessee and started a new life.”
“I heard he was quite successful as a tailor,” one of the listeners offered.
“And that he made even more money by investing in real estate,” another added.
Matthew braced himself as the train took a sharp curve and then nodded. “All true.”
“I also heard he was a slave owner,” another added angrily.
“And there is also rumor that the three children from his first slave are very light-skinned. People believe he is their father.”
Matthew nodded again, knowing that most of the people who had come down to Richmond were abolitionists who were eager to help the slaves start to rebuild their lives again. “That’s true too,” he agreed. Then he launched back into his explanation. “Johnson fought for the right to own slaves his entire political career.”
“Why did President Lincoln select him as his running mate?” Aunt Abby asked, suddenly aware her own personal affairs in the last several months had kept her oblivious of Lincoln’s choice — a fact she now deeply regretted.
“President Johnson was a staunch Union man,” Matthew informed her. “He fought hard for Tennessee to stay with the Union. When they chose to secede with the Confederacy, Johnson was the only senator from the South who actually kept his seat throughout the war.” He stared out at the darkening sky, and then continued. “Lincoln made him military governor of Tennessee when the army claimed the western and middle parts of the state. The Confederates were less than thrilled.”
“I imagine,” Aunt Abby murmured. “I understand his home and his business were in eastern Tennessee. What happened?”
“The Confederates confiscated all his land, took away his slaves, and turned his home into a military hospital,” Matthew said ruefully.
“Johnson also fought for slavery,” one of the listeners protested.
“That’s true,” Matthew agreed, “but he also created the Homestead Bill that became law in 1862.”
“President Johnson was the man who created the legislation that made homesteaders able to claim a hundred sixty acres of land on public lands?” one of the men listening asked with surprise. “That has sure helped a lot of people.”
“Yes. He tried to pass it in 1860, but Southern congressman rejected it because they were afraid most of the land would be claimed by Northerners who would then ban slavery in that state.”
“Tipping the balance of power,” Aunt Abby observed.
“Exactly,” Matthew said. “After a long hard fight, Congress actually passed it, but then President Buchanan vetoed it.”
“Why?” Aunt Abby asked in surprise.
“Buchanan was not willing to go against his Southern backers,” Matthew said simply. “It would have been sure political death for him to alienate all the Southern leaders, and he was also trying to hold the country together.”
“But it passed in 1862?” The question came from an immaculately dressed woman with sharp, intelligent eyes.
“Yes. It had already passed easily through the Northern part of Congress. Without pro-slavery involvement, it quickly became law.”
“If Johnson was so pro-slavery,” another man asked in confusion, “why did he introduce something that alienated so many of his colleagues?”
Matthew shrugged. “Our new president is a very complex man. I have no doubt he loves this country, but…”
Aunt Abby leaned forward. “But what, Matthew? It’s better for everyone to know the truth about the man now leading our country.”
“He has no sympathy for the Negro population,” Matthew said heavily. “He finally came around to the belief that slavery had to end because it was hurting the United States, but he has never pretended for a moment that he thinks slaves can ever be equal citizens with white people.”
“But why would Lincoln put someone like him in power?” Aunt Abby’s head was spinning as she considered the ramifications of Matthew’s last statement.
“Lincoln was impressed with how Johnson administrated Tennessee. He also believed that having Johnson, a Southern War Democrat, on the ticket sent the right message about the folly of secession and the continuing capacity for union within the country.” Matthew paused. “Lincoln believed Johnson was a good man.”
“And he never thought Johnson would end up running the country he fought so hard to keep together,” Aunt Abby said ruefully.
Matthew nodded. “That’s true.” His face said everything that his words did not.
“But what is going to happen to all the freed slaves?” a woman demanded. “Is he going to use the power of the federal government to make sure they get their rights?”
Matthew shook his head. “I don’t know,” he said bluntly, weariness in his voice. He had thought of little else since he had heard of Lincoln’s death. His mind had been full of thoughts of Rose, Moses, and all the other friends he had made. He feared for what their life would be like if President Johnson still carried his same old attitude. He feared what would happen in the South without Lincoln’s leadership. His excitement over the future had dulled to an uncertain dread.
Aunt Abby watched him quietly. He already knew she was reading his mind
. Her clear gray eyes were dark with their own troubled thoughts.
A long silence followed Matthew’s final words.
“Only time will tell what the future will bring,” Aunt Abby finally said. “I’ve learned not to borrow trouble before it comes.”
Matthew nodded along with the others as they murmured their agreement, but his dread did not diminish. There were times when being a newspaperman gave him a sense of pride and purpose. There were other times when knowledge was nothing but a reason to dread the future.
******
Carrie and Janie climbed out of the carriage and waved goodbye to Spencer.
Carrie glanced longingly at the barn behind her father’s house. It was on days like today that she would give almost anything to be flying across the fields of Cromwell Plantation on Granite, her towering gray Thoroughbred. The carefree days of her youth seemed to belong to another person, yet the memories called her and intensified the longing to go home.
Janie caught her wistful look. “Nothing more from your father?” she asked sympathetically.
“No,” Carrie said softly. “I think about him all the time. I hope he is still safe in Danville. I don’t know how strongly the Union Army is going to go after former officials in the Confederate government. At least Father was just in the Virginia government, but I’m afraid it might be more dangerous now that Lincoln has been killed,” she said, her voice catching on her fears. Tears blurred her eyes. “He just wants to go home,” she murmured. “I so hope he can do that soon. He needs to be on the plantation again.” She knew it was the only place he could begin to heal from the agony of the war years.
“And so does Granite,” Janie said sympathetically. “At least your wonderful horse is where he has food so he can gain back the weight he lost during the war.”
“I’m hoping that is still true,” Carrie said fervently. “It tore at my gut every time I couldn’t feed him enough, or every time he had to go off to battle.” Her voice tightened. “I’m so glad this blasted war is over,” she said fiercely.
“You and me both!”
Carrie jumped as a voice sounded from the shadows of the porch. “Moses!” she gasped. “I didn’t see you there.”
“I was waiting for you and Janie.”
Carrie tensed at what she heard in his voice. Five long years of suspense, waiting, and tragedy had made her quite adept at reading voices and situations. “What is it?” she asked simply.
Moses sent Janie an apologetic look before he answered. “Clifford was upset when he came home and found Janie gone.”
“I was taking care of our soldiers,” Janie said sharply.
“Yes,” Moses agreed, “but he was still upset.”
“Because she was with me.” Carrie provided the words he wasn’t saying. She knew Clifford was threatened by her closeness with Janie and afraid Carrie’s influence would lessen his hold on her.
Moses just looked at them, knowing his silence would reveal the truth. “Clifford has gone into town to get a wagon. He’s decided to leave tonight.”
“Tonight?” Janie gasped. “We’re scheduled to leave tomorrow morning. What difference could a night make?”
Moses’s eyes flashed his anger, but he kept his voice calm, seeming to know Janie would need it to hold on. “It seems to matter to Clifford. He had May and Miles pack up the last of your things. They are just inside the foyer. He should be back any moment.”
A sudden rattle of wagon wheels had Janie spinning around to peer down the road. Her face was a bewildering mixture of anger, pain, and fear. It was easy to identify Clifford’s erect body on the wagon seat. Even with one arm, he handled the team proficiently. She shook her head helplessly and straightened her body as the wagon rolled to a stop in front of the gate.
“We’re leaving,” Clifford announced equably, only his eyes flashing his anger.
The anger dissolved from Janie’s face. Only the pain and fear remained.
Carrie gritted her teeth but kept silent. She’d said all she could. Janie was going to go with Clifford. There was nothing else she could do. She watched silently as Miles and Moses carried the boxes and luggage down from the house and stacked them in the wagon. She almost cried when May bustled out with a big basket of food for them, because she knew it had been made strictly for Janie.
Everyone remained silent but grief shone from every pair of eyes.
When the wagon was full, Carrie turned and grabbed Janie in a tight embrace. “You are my sister,” she whispered fiercely, forcing the words around the tears in her throat. “You promised to write, and you promised to leave if things get really bad.” She swallowed back her tears and gripped her even more tightly. “I love you, Janie. I don’t know what I would have done without you all these years.”
Janie gripped her back just as tightly. “I love you too, Carrie! You are the sister I always dreamed of. I will write you every week.”
Clifford stared down at them, his face a tight mask. “It’s time to go, Janie,” he said calmly.
Carrie forced herself to look up and smile. Increasing his enmity by saying everything that boiled in her would only make things more difficult for Janie. “Goodbye, Clifford. I’m so sorry you feel you have to leave now, but I hope you have a good journey back to North Carolina.” She paused and took a deep breath. “And I hope you find all you’re looking for.”
She was almost mesmerized by Clifford’s cold eyes when he stared down at her. How had they gone from warm friends to obvious enemies? Her heart tightened at the brief glimpse she was seeing of just how relationships could change over the racial issue. Aunt Abby was right. The war had been won and the slaves were free, but the battle for racial equality had just begun.
Clifford nodded curtly, but his eyes softened slightly. “Thank you for all your hospitality, Carrie.”
Carrie fought the urge to laugh hysterically. She had saved Clifford’s life. She had arranged the wedding ceremony between him and Janie. They had lived as family for the last months. How had all that been reduced to hospitality? She swallowed back her hysteria and smiled softly. “You’re welcome, Clifford. And you’re always welcome here,” she added graciously, determined to not let his anger create any more of a divide between her and Janie. Already, her heart was breaking.
Carrie battled tears as she watched Janie climb onto the wagon seat beside Clifford, staring down at her with dark sorrow and confusion. Carrie clasped her hands together tightly as she stepped back beside Moses, thankful for the feeling of his strength beside her. “Goodbye,” she said softly, gazing into Janie’s eyes so that her friend would see all the love bubbling from the depths of her heart.
Janie just stared at her, almost wild-eyed, as Clifford raised his hand and urged the horse forward. In just moments, the wagon had disappeared into the near darkness.
Only then did Carrie collapse against Moses and let the tears come. Sobs wracked her body as Moses enfolded her and let her cry. “How could she go with him?” she finally cried. “How could she go with him?” she repeated, her voice a hoarse whisper.
“He’s taken her courage,” Moses replied.
Carrie pulled back to stare up at him with drenched eyes. “She told me today that she was afraid she was disappearing…” she whispered.
Moses nodded. “A man like Clifford controls through fear. Janie is afraid of him. Until she can reach down to find her own courage and remember who she is, she won’t be able to stand against him.”
“And if she does?” Carrie asked, fresh fear springing into her heart. “What will he do then?” Visions of Janie being beaten, or worse, filled her mind. She choked back the groan that wanted to escape.
“There’s nothing you can do now but pray,” Moses said gently. “Janie is going to have choices and decisions to make.”
Carrie wanted to scream out against the injustice. Anger rose in her that God would allow Janie to be in this situation, but then the truth of Moses’s words sank in. Janie had chosen to leave instead of stayi
ng where she would be safe. She was an adult woman who had made her choice. Only she could live with the consequences. Carrie clenched her fists and fought to control her breathing. “You’re right,” she finally admitted.
“At least Janie has a safe place to come back to if she’s ever ready,” Moses added. “My guess is that you tried to convince her to stay.”
Carrie nodded.
“And you also told her she could come back here.”
Carrie nodded again, still silent, but his words gave her a small surge of hope. If Janie ever decided to make another choice, at least she wouldn’t be like so many women with nowhere to go — nowhere to escape.
Moses gazed down at her. “You’ve done all you could do, Carrie. Now it’s up to Janie.”
“You’re right,” she finally whispered, staring down the road into the darkness.
May stepped forward then. “You come on in now, Miss Carrie. Dinner be on the table. Rose be upstairs feeding Mr. Robert. You gots to put some food in your belly, chile.” She stepped back to stare into Carrie’s face. “You ain’t eaten nothing since you left here this morning, have you?” she demanded.
Carrie forced herself to focus on the loving woman’s concerned eyes. “No, ma’am,” she admitted sheepishly. She was suddenly aware of her stomach rumbling as a deep wave of fatigue rolled through her. “Dinner sounds good.”
Within moments, she was sitting in front of a plate full of cornbread slathered with butter and heaps of hot vegetables picked fresh from the garden that morning. A plate of fresh lettuce topped with carrots and radishes had her almost salivating as she gave thanks for the warm days causing the garden to produce so early.
Carrie remained silent as she dug into the delicious meal, knowing she needed the strength it would provide. Her day was not over yet. She knew Robert was waiting for her. She brightened slightly as she thought of how pleased he would be to hear she had met Alex. She had a lot to tell him — if he could stay awake.
*****
Rose joined Carrie just as she was finishing her meal. “Janie is gone?”
