by Ginny Dye
“Which are?” Marietta burst out.
“First, the South is being broken into five territories that will be governed by the United States military. A majority of the Congress agrees that the only way to regain control of the violence in the South is to impose military rule.”
“They’s gonna stop them vigilantes?” Micah asked, carefully avoiding Hobbs’ eyes as he focused on Thomas.
“That will be a top priority,” Thomas assured him. He deliberately scanned the table, tensing when he saw the glassy-eyed rage on Hobbs’ face. He locked eyes with him until Hobbs scowled and looked away. “Each state will be required to ratify the Fourteenth Amendment to the United States Constitution, and…” Thomas drew out his last word, biting back his smile as Micah and May leaned forward. “And, they will be required to grant voting rights to black men.”
“Glory!” Micah burst out. “I been hoping I would live long enough to have the right to vote.” His face was a mixture of stunned disbelief and joy. “I weren’t too sure it would happen.”
Marietta frowned. “What about the rest of the states? Don’t they have to grant voting rights to black men? Only nineteen of the twenty-four northern states have the black vote. What good will it do to insist the southern states give the right to vote if they won’t?”
Thomas hesitated. “Not at this point.” He held up his hand to stop what he knew would be an angry outburst from his sister-in-law. “I feel exactly as you do.” He picked the letter back up and searched for an area he had underlined. “‘Unfortunately, the Reconstruction Act reflects the circumstances of its creation. It was necessary to find a program two thirds of Congress could agree on, and also one that the Northern electorate would support.’ ” He put the letter down. “We have taken a huge step in the right direction, but there is still more to accomplish,” he admitted.
“Like just giving the whole South to the blacks?” Hobbs spat. He had obviously reached the limits of his ability to remain silent. “They gonna let blacks vote, but they ain’t gonna let white men vote.” He locked eyes with Thomas. “Don’t it bother you that you can’t even vote, Mr. Cromwell?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “Ain’t none of y’all see that it ain’t just about giving the vote to the black man? It’s about taking it away from the white man.” His eyes burned. “How is that any kind of fair?”
“It’s not,” Thomas said quietly.
Hobbs swung back to stare at him. “You’re agreeing with me?”
“I’m agreeing that I think everyone should have the right to vote,” Thomas said. “Unfortunately, there are many men in the South who refuse equality. Until they can accept it, the consequences are the loss of the right to vote. Anyone who had a role in the Confederate government has been excluded from voting, but it is only temporary. Military rule is necessary, but it is only temporary.”
“For how long?” Hobbs snapped.
“I suppose that will be determined by each state’s actions.”
“And you think it’s okay for only the South to give the right to vote to black men?” Hobbs pressed.
“Certainly not,” Thomas replied. “But I suspect that will be resolved rather quickly.” He paused thoughtfully. “Have you ever seen a very large ship, Hobbs?”
Hobbs glared at him uncertainly. “Yeah,” he said abruptly. “During the war. What’s that got to do with anything?”
“There is a big difference between a very large ship and a tiny rowboat,” Thomas continued. “If you want to change direction in a rowboat, you can do it very quickly. But if you want to turn a huge ship around it takes a while to shift course.” He met Hobbs’ eyes. “America is a very large ship, and this is very big change. It’s not going to happen overnight, and it’s not going to happen easily.”
“It ain’t even happening right,” Hobbs retorted.
“What do you think should happen?” Abby asked gently.
Hobbs turned to look at her. “I don’t figure blacks should vote,” he snapped. “They ain’t got the education and smarts to vote like white people.”
“Is that right?” Marietta asked calmly. “How much education have you had, Hobbs? Do you believe you should vote?”
Hobbs stiffened even more. Everyone knew he had never attended school. “White men are smarter than black men,” he parried. He stared at Thomas. “I heard you say many times that it was the role of white men to care for black people because they couldn’t take care of themselves.”
“I was wrong,” Thomas replied. “So terribly wrong. As is every white person who still believes that.” He held up his hand before Hobbs could reply. “I agree that education should be important for every person who votes. But not just for the black man,” he added quickly. “It is important to educate every person in the United States. Men and women. Blacks will finally get the vote, but it is equally important for women to have the vote. And, it’s important for white people to be educated. Race does not either qualify or disqualify you to vote, Hobbs.” He held his eyes across the table. “Any person who wants to have a say in this country should be educated.”
“It still ain’t right for black people to vote,” Hobbs said stubbornly.
Marietta broke into the tense silence. “Black men used to have the vote.”
Hobbs jerked his head in her direction. “What are you talking about?”
Thomas watched her, just as curious to hear what she would have to say.
“It’s true,” Marietta said. “I received documents from some friends in the North recently. Many people don’t want to acknowledge it.”
“What did the documents say?” Abby pressed. “I’m intrigued to know.”
“Back in 1856, the Dred Scott decision was passed,” Marietta began.
Thomas was watching Hobbs and recognized the blank look in his eyes. “The Supreme Court decided that blacks, whether enslaved or free, could not be American citizens, and therefore had no standing to sue in federal court,” he explained.
“That sounds right,” Hobbs said gruffly.
“Except that it wasn’t right,” Marietta replied. “There were two justices that dissented. One of them was Justice Benjamin R. Curtis. He provided a lengthy documentary history to show that many blacks in America had often exercised the rights of citizens. During the time of the American Revolution, all free blacks had the vote on equal terms with all other voters.”
“What happened?” Abby asked in an astonished voice.
“There were many state constitutions that protected black voter rights,” Marietta answered. “Early American towns like Baltimore had more blacks than whites voting in elections. When the U.S. Constitution was placed before American citizens, it was ratified by both black and white voters in a number of states. It’s true that slaves were not allowed to vote, but even in the South, with the exception of South Carolina, free blacks had the vote.” She looked at Abby. “I’ll answer your question, but first I want to make sure I tell you what I learned. Slaves were not allowed to vote, but during the Revolution, many worked to end slavery. It was actually Great Britain that prohibited the abolition of slavery in the colonies.”
Abby frowned, remembering what she had learned from Carrie and Biddy. “Because they wanted to keep sending their own people from England and Ireland to America to be enslaved.”
“Yes. Once Great Britain lost the Revolutionary War, most of the states in the North ended slavery. Many blacks had not only the right to vote, but they also held office.”
Thomas shook his head in disbelief. “I never knew,” he murmured.
“Most Americans don’t know,” Marietta replied, her eyes burning. “In the early years after the Revolutionary War, the Congress moved toward ending slavery and achieving voting rights for all blacks, not just free blacks. In 1789 they banned slavery in any federally held territory. Five years later they banned the exportation of slaves from any state, and then in 1808 they banned the import of slaves into any state. More progress was made to end slavery and achieve civil rights fo
r blacks in America at that time than was made in any other nation in the world.”
Micah shook his head. “I don’t understand, Miss Marietta. How did things go so wrong?”
“Greed,” Marietta said flatly. “By 1820 most of our founding fathers had died. A new generation of leaders, intent on money and power, began to reverse all the progress that had been made. They passed the Missouri Compromise that permitted the admission of new slave-holding states.”
“And no one tried to stop them?” Abby asked incredulously.
“Oh, they tried,” Marietta answered. “Elias Boudinot, who was a president of Congress during the Revolution warned this new direction would bring an end to the happiness of the United States. John Adams warned that lifting the slavery prohibition would destroy America.” She let her eyes roam the table. “Thomas Jefferson was appalled at the proposal and also tried to stop it. Congress, of course, was no longer listening to these men. Their new attitude was reflected in the other states. In 1835, North Carolina reversed its policies and limited voting to white people. Maryland had already done it in 1809. The new Congress continued to pass laws that brought us to the Civil War that has just ended.”
“And now we have a new Congress that is working to reduce the damage and turn things around,” Thomas murmured, his mind spinning with the revelations. “Why does no one know this?”
Marietta smiled grimly. “Because our government knows that an uneducated public is easy to manipulate.” She locked eyes with Hobbs. “That’s why education is so important, Hobbs. Your vigilantes are fighting from pure ignorance and hatred. They are not trying to save America. They are fighting to continue the greed that has stripped equality from Americans that were once equal to you.”
Hobbs opened his mouth to respond, but Marietta quelled him with a fierce look and continued. “As long as people are uneducated, groups like the Ku Klux Klan can feed off ignorance and fear. You are being used, Hobbs…you and the thousands of vigilantes who are out there terrorizing and killing black people, and the whites who are fighting for their rights. Blacks aren’t out to get you, Hobbs. They aren’t out to destroy your life. They are simply trying to live. They are trying to make something of the lives that have been stolen from them for so long. And you, and the people you support, are trying to stamp out their lives.”
A thick silence filled the room when Marietta finished talking. Thomas watched Hobbs carefully, almost taking pity on the look of trapped rage he saw on his face. He saw something else, though. He saw confusion. He saw doubt stamped into the brown eyes that used to sparkle with life.
********
Carrie was smiling when she rounded the last curve and saw her white home glimmering pink in the setting rays of the sun. She was singing softly to herself when she approached the barn.
“Carrie Girl!”
Carrie stiffened, sure she was hallucinating. The familiar voice of her childhood reached out to fill her with memories. She strained her eyes to see through the glare of the sun, but all she could make out were shadows.
“Carrie Girl!”
A wild hope bloomed inside her. The hope burst into flower when Granite raised his head and released a joyful whinny. Heedless of her condition, Carrie released Granite into a gallop that swallowed the last hundred yards in seconds. Hands were there to lift her down as she slid to a stop.
“Miles!” Carrie cried, laughter mixing with her tears of disbelief.
Chapter Eleven
Carrie raised her hand and touched the leathery face peering down at her. “Miles?” she whispered. “Is it really you?”
Miles, his eyes sparkling with the vibrant life she had always known, had tears flowing down his cheeks, as well. “Carrie Girl,” he said tenderly. “It’s me, Carrie Girl.”
Carrie stared at him. The man who had taught her to ride. The man who had given her the freedom her mother tried to hold from her. The man who had taught her how to jump. And the man who had been among the first slaves to escape from Cromwell Plantation. “I thought I would never see you again,” she said tremulously. “It’s really you.”
Rose appeared from within the barn, her face wreathed in smiles. “He got here about an hour ago,” she announced. “He surprised us all. I’m certainly glad you are back because he wouldn’t tell us anything until you returned. He said he didn’t want to have to repeat himself.” Rose’s voice was exasperated, but her eyes were full of love as she gazed at the elderly man who still stood erect and strong. “He’s been inside all this time fiddling with the horse he brought with him.”
Carrie shook her head, trying to clear the fog of shock. “You brought a horse?” she asked faintly.
“One of the finest horses I’ve ever seen,” Robert confirmed as he strode from the barn.
Annie appeared on the porch of the house. “All right, Mr. Miles. You got what you want. Miss Carrie done be back. Now alls of you gots to come up on this porch. I’m bringing out some lemonade and cookies, and you’s gonna tell everyone what you doing here.”
Miles looked toward the porch and chuckled. “Looks like that Annie runs things around here.”
“It’s best to not cross her,” Carrie agreed as she linked arms with her old friend.
Miles peered at her. “Says the woman who rode off on her horse even though she is pregnant.”
Carrie laughed. “And I came back safe and sound, so obviously there was no need to worry.”
Amber called from the barn. “Miss Carrie, you can’t go up on the porch until you see the horse Mr. Miles brought with him!”
Carrie turned around to tell her they would be back soon, but the sight of the towering bay mare she was holding made her gasp and forget all about lemonade and cookies. “She’s beautiful,” she breathed, walking back to circle around the horse. She turned back to Miles. “How did you get her here?” She realized there were thousands of unanswered questions racing through her mind.
“All good questions,” Robert agreed. “Miles wouldn’t tell us a thing until you got back.”
Miles laughed heartily as he walked up to the mare and laid a gentle hand on her neck. “Meet Chelsea,” he said proudly. “Me and her rode down to Richmond on the train.”
Carrie gaped at him. “The train?” she managed.
“That’s right,” Miles confirmed. “Mr. Carson paid our way to come down here.”
“Mr. Carson?” Rose asked. “Where have you been?”
Carrie interrupted his answer. “I have a million questions as well, but first I want to know what kind of horse this is.”
“It’s a Cleveland Bay,” Miles answered. “They are Great Britain’s oldest breed of horse. The breed started up in an area northeast of England that used to be called Cleveland.” His eyes shone as he talked. “The first one came over to North America about twenty-five years ago. The man I been workin’ for raises them for carriage horses.”
Carrie shook her head. “I simply don’t know what to ask first.” She smiled at Amber. “Put Chelsea back in her stall. Thank you for showing her to me.” Then she turned and led Miles toward the porch. “Talk,” she commanded.
Miles sank down into one of the rockers on the porch and accepted the glass of lemonade from Annie. “Things sure done changed around here,” he commented. “I didn’t never dream I would be drinking lemonade on the porch of Cromwell Plantation.”
Carrie smiled. “It’s been seven years since you left, Miles. You’re right that a lot has changed.”
Miles hesitated. “I’m real sorry about that, Miss Carrie. I’ve missed you something fierce since I been gone.”
“Don’t apologize,” Carrie replied. “I would have done the same thing.”
Miles eyed her. “Rose told me you set all the rest of the slaves free after your daddy left the plantation.” He smiled at Rose. “I wouldn’t say nothing, so she did a lot of talking to fill in the gaps.”
“It was the right thing to do,” Carrie said simply. “Where have you been, Miles?”
&nbs
p; “Up in Canada. It took us about six months to get that far, but we made it.”
“Did everyone make it?” Rose asked anxiously.
“Everyone,” Miles assured her with a wide smile. “It was the happiest day of my life when we crossed over that Canadian border. Freedom felt just as good as I thought it would.” His eyes darkened. “There were some real hard times in those six months, but we made it. That’s what counts.”
“I know what you mean,” Rose murmured, reaching out to grasp his hand.
“I wouldn’t have been able to do what I done if you hadn’t taught me how to read, Rose,” Miles said gruffly. “Folks up in Canada were used to black folks ending up in their country, but they was real surprised when we showed up being able to read and write. I got me a job almost right away because of that.”
“Working with horses?” Carrie asked.
“Not at first. I worked in a factory for a couple years. The folks up in Canada were willing to have us, and I’ll always be real grateful for that, but I can’t say lots of them were really happy to have us. So many slaves coming up there made it real hard for the men up there to get jobs, so there was a lot of resentment.”
Robert nodded thoughtfully. “I guess I can understand that.”
“Me, too,” Miles agreed. “I was just happy to have me any kind of job. The first day I got money for my work I just stared at it. I was afraid to spend it because I figured it would stop coming at any minute. Lots of us was like that.”
“Did you ever get around to spendin’ it?” Annie asked.
“Not much,” Miles admitted. “I didn’t need that much. But then I got me a real reason to save it.” He smiled at Carrie. “I couldn’t stay away from horses. I found out about a fella raising horses not too far from where I was living, so I went out there to take a look.” His eyes took on a glow. “Carson Farms is quite a place.” He seemed lost in memories for a moment. “Anyways,” he continued, “we gots to talking about horses, and he found out I knew a bit.”
