by Ginny Dye
“Forty-three years ago there was a little girl born into slavery in Maryland. When she was little, they called her Minty. Her master was not kind to her and she received lots of beatings. Even as a little girl she dreamed about how things would be different if she wasn’t a slave.”
Rose could tell by looking into the faces of the children that many of them had dreamed the same thing. She paused and asked a question. “Is there anyone in here that is twelve years old?”
Several of the children raised their hands.
“When Minty was about your age she was in town to get some supplies. She saw another slave owned by another family who had left the fields without permission. His overseer found him and demanded that Minty help him capture the boy. She refused.”
Wide eyes stared back at her. She knew all of them were thinking about the overseer on whatever plantation they had come from. Only Sarah was too young not to have some memory of that. The little girl had been only a year old when her parents had escaped to the contraband camp.
“The boy she was trying to help started to run away. The overseer, not able to stop him, threw a heavy weight at him. He missed. Instead, the weight hit little Minty in the head.”
Every child in the room gasped and leaned forward a little more, their bodies pressed up against their desks as they listened intently.
“Minty was carried back to her house, bleeding and unconscious. She didn’t receive medical care for two whole days. She lived, but from that time forward she had seizures and would fall asleep without warning. She also began to have visions and really powerful dreams.”
Several of the children nodded their heads knowingly. Rose knew there were other women, like her own mama, who had the visions. She was sure the children knew some of them.
“Little Minty grew up and got married to a man named John Tubman. At some point, though I don’t know why, she changed her name to Harriet. She also started dreaming about escaping slavery. She got her chance when she was in her late twenties.” She glanced around the room and her eyes lighted on one of the older students. “You’re Aubrey, right?”
“Yessum,” the girl said shyly.
“How old are you?”
“Far as anyone knows, I be sixteen, Miz Samuels.”
Rose nodded. “Thank you, Aubrey.” She turned to the rest of the class. “About the time Aubrey was born, Harriet Tubman escaped.” She allowed a silence to build. “And then she went back.” She waited for the gasp to die down. “It’s true. She escaped the first time with two of her brothers. Her brothers had second thoughts, probably because they were afraid of being caught, and they went back, forcing Harriet to go with them.”
She smiled at the looks of righteous indignation on the faces staring up at her. “Harriet escaped again,” she told them. “This time she didn’t take her brothers,” she said with a grin, laughing when everyone’s faces lit up.
“Have any of you heard of the Underground Railroad?” Rose asked. Every child in the room nodded. Rose knew some of them had escaped through the Underground Railroad, just like she had, or they had heard about it through friends. “Well, Harriet escaped through the Underground Railroad. Once she got free, she loved being free so much that she decided to help other family members escape to freedom, too. By the time the war started she had made the trip with the Underground Railroad thirteen times,” Rose said dramatically. “She rescued seventy of her friends and family from slavery. No one she ever helped rescue got caught.”
She paused for a long moment, letting the importance of what Harriet had done sink in. Then she continued. “When the war started, and it became much easier for slaves to go free, Harriet started helping the Union Army. She started out as a cook and nurse, but then she served as an armed scout and spy.”
“A woman?” Amber gasped. She slapped her hand over her mouth when she realized she had interrupted.
“A woman,” Rose said firmly. “I’m going to be telling you stories about all kinds of people in the days ahead, but I want all of you in this room to know you can do anything. It doesn’t matter whether you are male or female. Harriet Tubman was just five feet tall. She had a disability because of her head injury that would have made most people give up. She risked her life time and again because she cared so much about her friends and family living in freedom like she was.” She paused again and swept the room with her eyes. “She believed she could help them, so she just went out and did it.”
Rose walked around the room slowly, touching many of the children on the shoulder as she passed them. “Every single one of you sitting in this room has a dream. I happen to believe God gives us dreams because he knows we can make them come true. We usually have to work real hard at it, but I believe that no matter what your dream is, you can make it come true.”
She let her words linger in the air as she walked back to the front of the class. “Now it’s time to start learning all the things that will enable you to make those dreams come true,” she said firmly. “We’re going to start with the letters of the alphabet.”
******
Two days later, Carrie and Robert rode into Richmond on Granite and a sorrel mare named Shandy. They had laughed and talked all the way, grateful for a relatively cool day in mid-September. They had not had time to notify anyone of their arrival, but knew they would be welcomed.
Both of them grew silent as they rode into the city’s business district. The streets were crowded with people on foot. Just a few horse-drawn omnibuses carried loads of passengers. It had been almost four months since Carrie had been in the city, but this was Robert’s first time viewing the destruction.
“You tried to prepare me,” Robert finally said, “but I don’t think anything could. My God, it seems as if the whole city was on fire.”
“It felt that way,” Carrie admitted, able to remember every detail of that horrific night — the flames, the explosions, and the sheer terror of everyone in the city. “If the Union Army had not arrived when it did, I suspect the fire would have indeed consumed all of Richmond.”
“So in taking the city, they saved it,” Robert said cryptically.
“Yes,” Carrie said quietly, “though I have a feeling that in the future it will be portrayed differently.”
“If they hadn’t come down to take Richmond, none of this would have happened,” Robert replied, anger sparkling in his eyes as he stared at the grim outline of destroyed buildings.
Carrie could only imagine his feelings if he had seen the city four months earlier. There was still so much to be done, but great progress had been made. She understood his anger, but… “And if the South hadn’t seceded, they would have had no reason to come here,” she said quietly. “If we could have done the same thing to Washington, DC, we would have done it gladly.”
Robert gazed around him and heaved a heavy sigh. “You’re right,” he admitted. “There was not a way for the war to end with anything but destruction. When people make decisions from passion, it seldom ends well.” He shook his head. “At least it’s over.”
“It isn’t over,” a voice said firmly.
Startled, Carrie and Robert looked down at a man standing close enough to overhear their discussion.
“Excuse me?” Robert replied. The gray haired, middle-aged man addressing him had on a business suit that had seen better days, but his posture was still erect, and his eyes glittered with defiance.
“See that wall over there?” the man asked.
Robert and Carrie looked over at the burned-out building.
Carrie tried to remember what had once been there. “It used to be a clothing store,” she recalled suddenly. “I’ve bought many things there.”
“Yes,” the man agreed. “It was my store. I lost everything the night the fires burned Richmond. I don’t have a penny to my name, and no one is offering to help me rebuild. Northerners have come down and stocked the remaining storefronts with products we couldn’t even get into the city during the war, but what good does it do?” he
asked bitterly. “No one has any money to buy anything. Before the war ended, anything you could find was ridiculously expensive, so Richmonders couldn’t afford to buy them. Now, our prices are lower than anywhere in the North because no one has any money, so they still can’t afford to pay for them. Nothing is leaving the stores the Yankees decided were worth their investment. They keep lowering the prices, but what difference does it make? Broke is broke.”
Robert frowned. “What are people doing? How are they eating?”
The man shrugged. “Just like I am,” he said. “The government is providing food supplies. They distribute tickets and then we all stand in line waiting to get enough cornmeal to keep us from starving. There are gardens all over the city, but most people are still hungry.”
Robert nodded, remembering his conversations with Matthew before he left. “What do you think of the new military governor, Pierpont?”
“I think he’s honest and I think he’s trying to help,” the man answered. “He got the Richmond government back in operation, and he seems to understand that he can’t possibly govern a state under a republican form of government when the vast majority of its people are disenfranchised and can’t hold office,” he said with a scowl. “The men who could make a real difference are still waiting to be pardoned by President Johnson,” he said sarcastically.
Carrie thought about Abby. “I understand there are a lot of Northerners who are coming down to invest in businesses.”
Again the man nodded. “That’s true. It’s hard to tell if it’s good or bad yet. They at least got one of the banks open again. Some of us have been able to get loans, and I know they’re trying to increase funding to help rebuild the city.” His voice was bleak. “I haven’t been able to borrow a penny.”
“I also understand Tredegar Iron Works is almost back to full operation,” Carrie said, trying to find the positive in the destruction that surrounded them.
The man peered at her. “You seem to know a lot about the city,” he said, looking closely at Granite and Shandy. “Those are fine horses,” he added, his eyes narrowing suspiciously. “Are you Yankees?”
Robert answered for them. “I assure you we are not. I am Captain Robert Borden from Virginia.”
“And I am Carrie Borden. My father worked in the Virginia government during the war.”
The man’s eyes narrowed. “Your father is…?”
“Thomas Cromwell,” Carrie answered proudly, surprised when anger flashed in the man’s eyes.
“Cromwell…” the man muttered angrily. “He and his wife are building that new factory down by the river.”
“That’s right,” Carrie said evenly. “Do you have a problem with that?”
“I have a problem with a new factory going in that wants to hire niggers,” he said flatly.
“You believe only white people should have jobs?” Carrie asked calmly.
“I believe the nigger needs to know they will never be equal to whites,” the man said bitterly. “Your father seems to think he can get away with paying blacks the same wages whites will get.”
“If they do the same work, they should receive the same pay,” Carrie responded, biting back the angry words that wanted to spew from her mouth.
The man stiffened and glared at her. “Do you agree with your wife, Captain?” he asked, casting a glance at Robert.
“And if I do?”
“Then you need to go live up north where they love niggers,” he said flatly.
Robert managed to smile calmly. “I believe I’ll stay here in the South and work to change people’s ignorance,” he said flatly.
The man’s face flushed red as his eyes flared with rage. “We may have lost the war, but we do not intend to have our country run by niggers,” he spat.
“And I don’t think any of them have designs on running the country right now,” Robert replied. “They simply want to live their lives and also make a living.”
“Then they should go back out to the plantations and do what they were born to do!”
“Be slaves?” Carrie asked. “I believe that was abolished.”
The man snorted. “Slavery may be dead, but niggers can’t do anything more than work as laborers. They were meant to be controlled by the white people. If they’re not slaves, then they need to be on the plantations under the control of people who can help them survive.”
Carrie sighed. The war may be over and slavery abolished, but it was clear the way people believed had not changed. “The freed slaves believe they can take control of their lives now,” she replied, trying to remember that anger only fueled anger. It wouldn’t do any good to respond to this man’s anger with anger of her own.
“That’s ridiculous!” the man snorted. “Left to their own devices, the niggers will cease to exist in a hundred years. They’ve never been able to take care of themselves, and they certainly can’t now.”
Carrie smiled softly. “My experience tells me very differently.”
“Yes,” the man snarled, his face twisting into an ugly mask. “I’ve heard about your experiences, Mrs. Borden.”
Chapter Thirty-One
Carrie stared at him.
“Your father was the laughing stock of Richmond when it was discovered that you had let all your slaves go free. We felt terribly sorry for him,” he said sarcastically.
Carrie tensed. “And yet my father still has a viable plantation and he is here in town to build a new factory,” she shot back, instantly sorry when the man’s rage deepened to something that scared her. She was also sorry she had let the man’s anger inflame her own.
“You little…”
Robert moved Shandy forward. “That will be all,” he said firmly, his voice deep with anger. “You will not disrespect my wife.”
“Your wife should learn her place,” the man growled.
Carrie was suddenly aware there were many people listening. Their faces were a mixture of angry sympathy and disdain. The few blacks close enough to hear the interchange had started to edge away, sensing the growing anger.
“My wife is one of the most intelligent women I know,” Robert shot back. “You could learn a lot from her.” He looked at Carrie, his eyes saying it was time to go. “I believe we have engaged this charming gentleman long enough, Carrie.” He nodded his head. “Have a nice afternoon,” he said, nudging Shandy forward.
Carrie was more than happy to nudge Granite into a trot to follow him. Several blocks passed before either said anything. “I’m sorry,” Carrie finally said, her breathing back to normal. “I know I shouldn’t have let him make me angry.”
“I would have thought you were deaf if you hadn’t gotten angry,” Robert replied. “The man was an idiot,” he said flatly.
“That idiot is going to be part of the Richmond business district that my father and Abby will have to deal with on a regular basis.”
“Yes,” Robert replied, “but that is no reason not to confront ignorance with the truth. I’m quite sure your father and Abby have dealt with these feelings already, and I’m also quite sure they knew what they were getting into before they started this venture.”
Carrie was quiet for several blocks. “They’re going to be in danger, aren’t they?” When Robert just looked at her, she knew he was trying to temper his response. “Don’t bother to figure out an easy way to say yes,” she sighed, glad when the blackened shells of the business district faded behind them, giving way to the neighborhoods leading to her father’s house.
******
Abby had just stepped out onto the porch when Carrie and Robert rode up. “What a lovely surprise,” she called. She stepped back into the house. “Thomas, come out here.”
Carrie and Robert were dismounting when Thomas strode onto the porch. “Carrie! Robert! What are you doing here?”
“Can’t I just have missed my father and his wonderful wife?” Carrie asked lightly.
Abby narrowed her eyes. “You could, and I believe you have, but your face tells me it is more t
han that.”
Carrie laughed. “It’s a good thing I like the fact that you can read me like a book.”
She smiled as Miles stepped out on the porch. “Would you mind taking Granite and Shandy in the back?”
“I’d be happy to,” Miles replied, his eyes shining as he looked at the horses. “Granite looks like himself again,” he said with satisfaction, “and that mare is sure a beauty!”
“That she is,” Robert agreed. “They both have earned some feed and hay.”
“I’ll take care of it,” Miles promised as he took their reins and led them around to the stable.
“I’m afraid I gained you an enemy today,” Carrie said regretfully as the four of them walked into the house. When her father raised an eyebrow, she told them the whole story. “I don’t know who he was,” she said when she finished.
Thomas sighed. “Marcus Summers. He is a man eaten up with bitterness.”
“So you know him?” Robert asked, taking the glass of tea May offered him with an appreciative smile.
“I’m afraid so,” Thomas answered. “He and his family were quite wealthy before the war. He did well, even throughout the war, by raising his prices exorbitantly, but he lost everything in the fire.”
“I made things worse by pointing out how well you are doing,” Carrie said regretfully. “I’m so sorry I lost my temper.”
“The man could make a saint lose his temper,” Abby replied archly. “I almost have a hole in my tongue from biting it.”
“But at least you bit it,” Carrie said remorsefully. “I’m afraid I just said what I thought.”
“Don’t worry, Carrie,” her father said immediately. “It was just a matter of time. Marcus has been looking for an opportunity to start a fight ever since we got here. Maybe it’s time it came to a head.”
“But what will happen?” Carrie asked, her face creased with worry. “It seems he could be a dangerous man.”
