by Ginny Dye
Carrie flipped through the pamphlet, her elation growing. “Thank you,” she said with heartfelt fervor. “It is so frustrating to have someone come to you for help but have no idea how to relieve their pain.”
“Which gives you some idea of why I left traditional medicine,” Dr. Hobson said with a chuckle. “I was frustrated all the time.” His face grew serious. “Worse, I knew I was actually hurting my patients most of the time.” He looked at Carrie. “How do you feel about surgery?”
“I believe there are surgeries that are unnecessary, but I also believe there is a place for it,” Carrie answered honestly. “There are many soldiers who would have died during the war without it.”
“Dr. Wild told me you worked right alongside him,” Dr. Hobson said, admiration shining in his eyes.
“He went far against the norm to allow me to assist,” Carrie replied. “I will always be grateful for what I learned, but I also hope I never live through another war that will require what we had to do.” She pushed back the memories that could still rise to haunt her whenever anything reminded her of those times.
“I can echo a hardy amen to that,” Dr. Hobson replied. He glanced out the window with a frown. “It’s snowing now, and coming down heavy.” He walked over to a door set into the wood-paneled wall. “Let me get you the remedies you will need. Anytime you run into a case you need advice on, you can send me a letter. I will respond to you immediately.” He disappeared for several minutes. When he reappeared, he was carrying a cloth bag and an armful of books, which he placed into a wooden box next to his desk. “Dr. Strikener asked me to give you these books when you visited. He is sending me more to replace them. The box will keep them dry, and you will find them invaluable.”
“Thank you,” Carrie said. “I had very high hopes for my meeting with you, but it has far exceeded even my lofty expectations.”
Dr. Hobson smiled. “True medicine should only be concerned with helping people live in good health. We should all strive to do whatever we can to assist others in the same line of work. As you advance in your career, Mrs. Borden, you will help many people, but you will especially help women who are becoming homeopathic physicians. You have breadth of knowledge from all your experiences that most of them do not have.”
“Yes, sir,” Carrie replied. “I will do whatever I can to help anyone. I will consider it an honor.”
There was a soft rap on the door, and Dr. Hobson opened it. “I suspected it was you, Spencer,” he said warmly. “And you are right that you need to get Mrs. Borden home while the roads can still be safely traveled.”
Buried under blankets again, Carrie waved goodbye to Dr. Hobson from the carriage. Within seconds, the blowing snow made it impossible to see him. She felt a surge of sympathy for Spencer before she pulled the blankets over her head and thought about all she had learned. The box of books was nestled securely in the floorboard of the carriage at her feet. The bag of remedies was clutched firmly in her hand.
********
Rose pulled the door of the school closed, relieved the long day had come to an end. She had sent the children home an hour earlier because of the snow, but she had wanted to finish up some lesson plans before she left. She knew Jeb and Andy were waiting for her, but when she turned, she didn’t see them. Alarm radiated through her. There had been no more evidence of the vigilantes, but what if they had done something to her friends? Her pulse racing, she strained her eyes to see through the snow.
“Good evening, Mrs. Samuels.”
Rose jumped as a voice sounded through the veil of whiteness. “Moses? Is that you?” She hated the fear she heard in her voice, but she couldn’t stop it.
Moses materialized instantly. “What is it, Rose? Is something wrong?” He gripped her shoulders as he looked around.
Rose smiled, knowing he could see nothing but a curtain of snow. “I’m fine now. I was expecting Andy and Jeb to be here. Having you is a treat, but not one I expected. Is there a problem at the plantation?”
Moses let his hands drop to her waist before he pulled her in for a kiss. “Nothing is wrong. I decided I wanted some time with my wife. I reckon this is going to be the last snowfall of the year, so I wanted to enjoy it with you.”
Rose stared at him. “It seems like it has snowed a hundred times this winter. It’s cold and it’s wet. What is there to enjoy?” She knew she sounded petulant, but she was so ready for spring that she could feel the longing about to explode in her chest. The sight of more snow had made her want to cry.
Moses cocked his head and lifted a brow. “Obviously, my wife has forgotten the magic of snow.”
Rose sighed, simply not able to enter into the game. “I must have,” she admitted.
Moses lowered his head closer as his voice dropped to a teasing whisper. “Is the schoolhouse still warm?”
Rose nodded, having no idea why it mattered. She had banked the fire, but even with the intense cold it would take time for the heat to dissipate. She gasped when Moses swept her up in his arms and produced the key that would unlock the door. “What are you doing?” she demanded, though as soon as the question escaped her mouth she had a very good idea of what he was doing. A smile pulled at her lips.
“Showing you the magic of snow,” Moses said smugly. “I can promise you no one will bother us in the schoolhouse right now. I very seldom get my wife all to myself anymore.” He lowered his head to claim her lips just as he pushed the door open with his foot, and carried her inside. “I don’t want to talk about vigilante groups. I don’t want to talk about teaching. I don’t want to talk about the plantation. I don’t even want to talk about our children.”
Rose smiled softly. “That doesn’t leave us much to talk about,” she observed.
“Exactly,” Moses murmured. “I don’t want to talk at all.” He held her easily with one arm while he locked the door behind them, then he carried her to the floor beside the stove and lowered her gently. “I figure our two coats are all the cushioning we need.”
Rose laughed and pulled him close. “Absolutely all we will need,” she promised.
Chapter Nine
March 1, 1867
Moses gazed at the packed schoolhouse. The first day of March had brought in the first truly warm day of the year. He could tell this wasn’t the teasing spells of January and February. This was a heralding of the glories of spring just around the corner. The snowfall earlier in the week had completely melted. There was still a fire going in the woodstove, but only because night would bring cooler temperatures.
The first redbud trees were blooming in the woods, and crocuses lined every path with their dainty yellow, white and pink blooms. Wild daffodils waved their green leaves, their bulging buds promising a riot of yellow to follow soon. The robins had returned, their red breasts a sure sign that winter was done for another year.
As neighbors chatted and laughed, he thought about all that had been accomplished on the plantation. His men had prepared the seed beds for planting this year’s crop of tobacco. They had burned away undergrowth to sterilize the ground and add ash. They had tilled and fertilized.
In early February, during a spate of several warm days, they had planted the minute tobacco seeds by first mixing them with soil and then spreading them over the beds. The beds had then been staked and covered with a linen cloth to protect the seedlings as they grew for six weeks. Moses had checked on them today. They were growing sturdy and strong, a green wave of seedlings stretching as far as the eye could see.
In one more month, as long as winter did not come roaring back, they would be ready to transplant into the fields that were being prepared. The days were full of breaking the soil with heavy plows pulled by an army of mules. Hundreds of acres of fields were being disked and fertilized with oyster marl. In another couple of weeks, his men would make furrows to transplant the seedlings into the fields—the beginning of another record-breaking Cromwell crop.
Moses pushed away thoughts of how much he would miss this when he
went to school. Even after years of forced slavery in the fields, he had never lost the feeling of wonder that came from watching the seedlings grow and thrive. Now that the results were dependent upon him, it held even more wonder. The sheer joy of watching the crop grow was even more satisfying than the payment that would follow a good season. He bit back a chuckle as he had that thought. There was a time, not so very long ago, when the idea of receiving a cash payment for his labor would never have crossed his mind. Now, though he relished his growing bank account, he still found the greatest satisfaction in the process.
As he scanned the faces in the crowd, he hoped he would find equal satisfaction in the work he was preparing to do. He thought about the stack of law books beside his bed. He had made good progress through them during the winter months—Rose reading education books at the same time—but all that would cease when the crop started growing. It would claim every moment of his time.
Biting back a sigh, he stepped onto the makeshift platform and waved his hand for attention. The room quieted immediately.
Jeb spoke into the silence. “Why it be just men tonight, Moses? There be trouble you don’t want the women folk to know about?”
“No,” Moses said. “I’m hoping to keep all of you out of trouble.” He kept his voice casual, but he hoped his words would impart just how important this evening was. The sixty men gathered in the schoolhouse gazed at him soberly. “I hope the day will come,” he continued, “when we don’t have to talk about things like this, but until that happens, I aim to make sure all of you are equipped to deal with it.”
Moses paused, expecting someone to interrupt, but the room remained silent. He pushed down a twinge of alarm. “Every man in this room has to be extra careful around white women,” he began, relieved when he saw Robert push in through the door at the back. Moses nodded silently when Robert mouthed ‘sorry’ before taking a seat. Something had made his friend late, but he had arrived in time. That was all that mattered.
“White people have a great fear of their women being raped by black men,” he said bluntly, not surprised when resigned, disgusted looks showed on the men’s faces. “It doesn’t take much for someone to accuse a black man of rape.” He waved Robert forward. “I’m going to give you some suggestions to keep yourselves safe, but first I want Robert Borden to explain why it is the way it is. I’m hoping that knowledge will help you appreciate how real the danger is.”
He moved to the side when Robert stepped onto the stage. The room remained silent, every eye focused on Robert.
Moses, spurred by another jolt of alarm, raised his hand to stop his friend. “There is something more going on here that I don’t know about,” he said. “I’ve never heard all of you so quiet. Before Robert tells you what he has to say, I want to know what it is.” He locked eyes with Jeb. “Jeb, I have a feeling you can tell me.”
Jeb scowled and exchanged glances with several of the men in the room. “I reckon I can, Moses.” He took a deep breath. “You know all of us think the world of your wife, but she done stirred up a hornet’s nest by opening up her school to white kids.”
“How?” Moses asked, though he had a sinking feeling he already knew.
“The kids been coming home with stories,” Jeb replied. “Some of them white kids treating the other kids real bad and…”
Moses frowned when Jeb’s voice trailed off, but his real concern came from the fear he saw in the other man’s eyes. “And what?” he pressed.
“Some of them white kids be real good kids,” Jeb said earnestly, “but other ones seem to carry the meanness of their folks in them. They’s telling our kids that they gonna get their daddies thrown in jail.” His face darkened. “Or worse…” he muttered. “It don’t seem to matter none what we do, Moses. White folks got it out for us. They want to make sure we pay for whatever they figure is wrong down here since the war ended. You telling us we got to be careful ain’t nothing we don’t already know, but we don’t reckon it’s gonna do much good. Your wife done brought them white people right smack in the middle of our world. We can’t do nothing about that.”
Moses stared at him as he searched for words. He and Rose had already expected it would take time for the kids to learn how to accept each other, but neither of them had anticipated the decision to include white children in the school would also put the adults in danger.
Robert stepped forward. “All of you have reason to be concerned, but absolutely none of it is your fault,” he said. “We’ve got to figure out answers for how to deal with it, but I’ve always found that understanding why something is happening is the first step to finding solutions.” He stopped and glanced at Moses.
Moses nodded, relieved to have time to formulate his response.
“To tell the truth,” Robert continued, “it makes me feel sick to have to tell you these things. I feel even worse that there was a time when I felt the same way, but I’m willing to tell you because I want you to know things can change. I changed. It means other people can too.” He took a deep breath. “It’s true that white men are scared that freed slaves are going to rape their women.” He held up his hand as the room filled with scowls and angry mutterings. “Here me out,” he pleaded.
Jeb stepped forward and turned to eye the men. “We got’s to listen. We’s been talking about why white men think like they do. This here be our chance to find out. You got to all hear Mr. Borden out.”
Robert waited while the room grew silent again. “Slavery has created a set of beliefs that hurts everyone. Slavery is over, but that doesn’t mean the beliefs have changed.” He took a deep breath. “Southern white culture is a hard thing to understand. Slavery created a difficult relationship between white men and women. Many men put white women on a pedestal. They believed it made her inaccessible to blacks and was a guarantee of the purity of the white race.”
Moses watched Robert. He knew how challenging it was for his friend to talk about this. While Robert’s beliefs had completely changed, Moses knew it must be hard to talk against his own race. If their roles were reversed, he knew it would be hard for him as well.
“There were many white men who found they preferred to have sex with the slaves,” Robert admitted.
“Cause they were so easy to rape?” one of the men called out angrily.
Robert grimaced but nodded. “I’m afraid that is true. Putting white women on a pedestal seemed to make them…” He paused as he groped for words, his face strained with the effort. “It made them less responsive in bed,” he finally said.
“So the men came after our women?” another man asked. “My wife told me all her master’s boys raped her when she was younger. There weren’t nothing she could do because she was their property.”
Robert met his eyes steadily. “I’m sorry that happened,” he said. “It was wrong.”
“You ever do that?” another man called out in a hard voice, his identity concealed by dark shadows beyond the reach of the flickering lantern lights.
“No,” Robert said firmly. “I did many things I regret, but that was not one of them.”
Moses raised his hand again. “Let him finish what he came to say,” he commanded. “It’s taking a lot of courage for Robert to stand up here like this. The least you can do is listen.”
The room fell silent again, but the tension buzzed like an angry hive of hornets.
Robert glanced at Moses gratefully and then continued. “The more this went on, the more white women became like ornaments. They were a symbol of the Southern way of life.” His voice grew more confident as he talked. “When the Southern way of life crumbled with the loss of the war, and when all the slaves were free, white men realized that black men were free to do to their women what they had done to yours.”
“I don’t want me no white woman,” Jeb snorted. “Ain’t a one of them as fine as my wife.”
“That doesn’t change what they believe,” Robert replied. “Unfortunately, when a man believes something, his actions follow his belief.
Too many white men feel helpless now because of all that happened. Their concerns have turned into a morbid fear that taints everything in their lives.”
“How we gonna change that?” someone demanded. “This is all fine and good, but how do we fight something we didn’t have nothing to do with?”
Moses stepped forward now. “Fear is never rational,” he said. “White men are afraid of black men. So are white women. It’s that simple. It also means that everything you do is something to fear. The men are so afraid, that they have made all the women afraid too. If you smile at their women, they think you are going to rape them. If you are friendly to them, they think you are going to rape them. There are areas where simple acts of kindness can have you accused of rape.”
“That’s crazy talkin’,” Jeb muttered.
Moses locked eyes with him. “You’re right, Jeb. But it doesn’t change how things are.”
Jeb’s features hardened with anger. “So you stick all of us with a bunch of white people who bring their children to school with our children. I do my best to stay away from them people, but especially since I’m watching out for your wife, that puts me in a real bad position, Moses.”
“I know,” Moses said heavily. “I’m real sorry about that.” He suddenly realized how vulnerable they were because of Rose opening the school to all children.
Robert laid his hand on Moses’ arm. “We’re not all like that, Jeb,” he said. “And there is hope for change. There are white people who have been treated badly by the white aristocracy, too.”
“Aristocracy?” a man snapped. “What kind of word is that?”
“He means all the rich plantation owners,” Jeb answered. “Me and Rose talk about it sometimes going back and forth to school. Anyway, Robert is saying that not all white men think this way, but we still got to be careful.”
