Always Forward

by Ginny Dye

“Thank God they didn’t last long enough for more to know about them,” Thomas retorted, “except that they seem to have resurfaced.” He shook his head. “Their name came from Bickley’s scheme for a South American filibustering expedition. The group drew a great circle on the globe that put Cuba as its center. The circle encompassed Mexico, Central America, the northern part of South America, and the West Indies.”

  “For what purpose?” Marietta asked.

  Thomas’ smile was humorless. “Bickley proposed to lead private armies across the Rio Grande, conquer and annex these lands, and parcel them out as twenty-five new slave states so he could preserve the Southern balance of power with the North. He called it the Golden Circle.”

  “That’s insane!” Marietta sputtered, her eyes wide with disbelief.

  “He didn’t stop there,” Thomas continued. “He was adamant to preserve the rights of pro-slavery Southern whites. He proposed that the Circle could serve as a secret police force to identify abolitionist traitors so they could preserve the orderly operations of slavery. The goal was to increase the power of the Southern slave-holding upper class to such a degree that it could never be dislodged.”

  “I’ve never heard of an invasion into Mexico,” Marietta observed. “What happened?”

  Thomas shrugged. “The Golden Circle managed to establish chapters and enroll members in every Southern state, as well as in California and portions of the Midwest. They actually mustered up two expeditions of the Knights to the Mexican border, but they never managed to cross the Rio Grande.” He paused. “Then the war started. Bickley decided to turn the order into a secret instrument of Confederate support.”

  “And now?” Marietta demanded. “Obviously you think all of this ties into the present. These people didn’t simply disappear.”

  “No,” Thomas agreed. “I don’t believe they did.”

  “You believe the Golden Circle has evolved into the Ku Klux Klan,” Matthew guessed, his brow furrowed with intense concentration.

  Thomas shrugged, though his expression was far from casual. “I believe they have been given a natural political and military framework for the Klan to emulate. The question is just how that is going to happen. Even though the Klan is active in their violence, their plans seem to remain secret. I am quite certain there is a master plan, though.”

  Matthew scowled. “It’s hard to fight something when you don’t know what they are doing, or what they are going to do. Surely there must be something they are planning on doing to press their agenda forward. I would give anything to know what that is!”

  ********

  Hobbs had been listening carefully, the band of worry growing tighter with each revelation. His hatred had dissolved, but the fear instilled in him had grown ever bigger as the conversation flowed around the table. He wanted to stand and walk out of the room. He wanted to believe this had nothing to do with him. And he wanted to believe he had no responsibility for any of it.

  The weight of the letter in his pocket told him differently. It seemed to grow thicker and heavier with each passing moment. And then it seemed to get hot, the searing heat pressing through his leg and traveling up to his brain. For a moment, he thought he was going to pass out.

  “Hobbs?” Abby’s voice broke into his befuddled mind. “Hobbs, you look ill. Are you all right?”

  Hobbs latched onto Abby’s kind voice, using it to pull him back to reality like a drowning man would reach for a buoy in rough waters. His heart rate slowed a little as he forced himself to gaze into her eyes, relieved when he saw nothing but kindness and compassion. There were times he was certain she could read his mind, but this time she simply looked worried.

  Abby reached out to take his hand. “Are you all right?” she repeated.

  Hobbs drank in the sight of her caring eyes and then used every bit of his strength to reach into his pocket and pull out the letter burning his leg. “I know what they are going to do,” he said weakly, surprised when his voice actually worked.

  Chapter Fourteen

  “What?” Thomas asked sharply. “What are you talking about?”

  “The Klan.” Hobbs had to force every word past the fear lodged in his throat. He knew what happened to people who betrayed the secrecy of the Ku Klux Klan. He lifted the letter he was holding. “It’s in here.”

  Tense silence gripped the room.

  Jeremy was the first to speak. “Are you going to tell us?”

  Hobbs nodded, feeling his first sense of rightness since he had arrived on their doorstep. “They are… having a convention… in Nashville… in April.” Every word was halting, coated with the thick terror clogging his throat.

  “During the Nashville Convention for the selection of Democratic candidates for the fall election. They know the masses of people will hide their meeting,” Matthew murmured, his eyes locked on Hobbs. “Where is it going to be?”

  Hobbs, now that he had decided to reveal what he knew, felt the fear ebbing away with every word he spoke. Evidently, the hold the Klan had on him only worked if he was too frightened to take action to combat it. “The Maxwell House,” he replied, his voice stronger.

  “I wonder who is heading it up,” Peter asked, obviously not expecting Hobbs to know.

  “George Gordon,” Hobbs answered.

  Thomas narrowed his eyes. “The brigadier general for the Confederacy?”

  “Yes, sir. He is from Pulaski. He’s been involved with the Klan almost from the start.”

  Abby was the first to ask the question on everyone’s mind. “Why are you telling us this, Hobbs?” Her voice was one of gentle probing, not harsh judgement.

  Hobbs turned to look into her eyes, drawing even greater strength from the compassion he saw shining there. He could not believe she was not full of revulsion. “It’s the right thing to do,” he said, not sure he was willing to say more.

  Matthew filled in the blank for him. “The Klan doesn’t take kindly to betrayal,” he said soberly.

  “Secret societies have strict rules about no one revealing their actions,” Thomas agreed. “There must be a very important reason you are telling us this.”

  Hobbs sighed heavily and nodded. “The hate was eating me up,” he finally admitted. “I didn’t even recognize who I was anymore. Blacks never did nothing to hurt me, but I let others convince me I should hate them, and that they were out to destroy me.”

  “What changed?” Abby pressed.

  Hobbs looked to Jeremy for help, not certain he could force more words from his mouth.

  “Marcus saved his life this morning,” Jeremy said. He explained what had happened while watching Hobbs carefully. “I suspect there was something more, though.”

  Hobbs sighed again. He had been willing to tell them what he knew, but that didn’t mean he wanted to tell them everything. However, with every eye in the room fixed on him, he didn’t know how to evade the truth. He looked at Jeremy. “It was you and Marietta,” he said.

  Everyone waited quietly for him to continue. May, coming in from the kitchen with dessert, moved to stand against the wall so she could listen.

  “Marcus told me about that couple who came to him last night.” Hobbs saw mostly blank expressions and realized the news hadn’t spread yet.

  Jeremy recognized the same thing and filled them in quickly.

  Hobbs understood the grim looks plastered on every face. “It could have been you,” he muttered, and then looked up to meet both Jeremy and Marietta in the eye. “That couple could have been you. And you ain’t been nothing but kind to me ever since I got here. I didn’t deserve it.” He paused for a long moment. “The idea of it happening to you suddenly made it all seem real. It wasn’t just a bunch of ranting and raging about people I don’t know. It was about you and Marietta. People I care about. When I realized that, I reckon it made all the hate disappear.” He wasn’t ashamed of the tears that filled his eyes. “I was real wrong.” His gaze swung around the table, resting the longest on Thomas and Abby. “I wish I had words
to say how sorry I am.”

  Abby’s response was to reach forward and take his hand. “We forgive you, Hobbs. Thank you for doing the right thing.”

  “I’m proud of you, son,” Thomas said, reaching out to shake his free hand. “Thank you.”

  Affirmations came from everyone around the table. Hobbs could hardly believe they were so quick to forgive him. Even May and Micah were regarding him with warm eyes. The rest of the band tightening his chest dropped away. He took his first easy breath since he had knocked on the front door that frigid night. “Thank you.”

  “Now that you’re forgiven,” Matthew said quietly, “will you tell us the real truth about why you are here?”

  Hobbs stiffened, but he couldn’t say he hadn’t expected this.

  Matthew, eyeing the letter Hobbs held, continued. “I suspect there is more than what you have told us in that letter, but I also suspect only certain people received information about the Nashville convention. Why you?”

  Hobbs took a deep breath, trying to calm the rapid pounding of his heart. He should have known the renowned journalist would see through him and realize he wasn’t telling everything he knew. He had given them the information they needed, but he certainly hadn’t told them everything, and he still wasn’t sure it was necessary. He struggled to control his thoughts and decide what to do.

  “The truth is usually easiest,” Abby said gently.

  Hobbs looked at her and realized she was right. He would simply tell the truth and deal with whatever consequences came from it. “I was sent here,” he said bluntly, realizing he didn’t have the energy to figure out the best way to word what he had to say, so he was simply going to say it.

  “Why?” Thomas asked.

  “To report back to the Klan on what you have been doing.” Hobbs fixed his eyes on Thomas. “The Klan hates you because of what you are doing. They know about the factory, and they know about what is going on at the plantation.” He swung his eyes to Jeremy. “They know you are mulatto, and they know you are fighting to bring equality to blacks in Richmond.” He looked at Abby next, his voice growing even more apologetic. “They know about what you are doing up in Philadelphia.” He took a deep breath. “They know you were an abolitionist, and they blame you equally for what is happening in the factory here in Richmond.”

  “Because you told them?” Peter snapped angrily.

  “No,” Hobbs insisted. “They already knew all of it. They got people everywhere who are telling them about folks. They done sent me down here to report back on how the Klan could hurt you. I was desperate…and I believed what they told me—that all of you were destroying the country and destroying my life. Once I got here, though, I couldn’t do it. I hated what was going on, but all of you were good to me, and I couldn’t forget all Carrie and me went through.” His voice faltered. “How could I hurt her family?” He held up the letter, hating that he couldn’t stop the trembling in his hand. “The rest of the letter is about what is going to happen to me if I don’t tell them what they sent me down here to find out.”

  “What will they do?” Abby pressed, reaching out to enfold his hand again.

  Hobbs looked down at their linked hands and managed a weak smile. “Let’s just say it ain’t good.” He fought to push away the images crowding his mind as he remembered the detailed description of how they were going to hurt him if he didn’t fulfill his mission.

  “Thank you for telling us,” Matthew said, his eyes matching his voice’s intensity.

  “What are you going to do with what I told you?” Hobbs asked. “Does it help at all?” He realized he was desperate to believe his betrayal would result in something positive. If he was going to die at the hands of the Klan, who had eyes everywhere, he wanted to at least believe it had been worth it.

  “More than you can imagine,” Matthew assured him. He exchanged a long look with Peter, and then looked back at Hobbs. “Peter and I will be at the convention.”

  Hobbs managed a bitter smile. “You don’t really think they’re just gonna let you in, do you? They know exactly who you are.”

  “No,” Matthew responded, “but we have our ways of listening in when we want to.”

  Hobbs remembered something Matthew had told him many years ago. “Like you and Robert listened in on the secessionist meeting before the war started?”

  “Just like that,” Matthew agreed grimly. “I thought that meeting was important, but it means practically nothing compared with the one you have told us about.”

  Hobbs wanted to believe it could make a difference, but he had heard too much. “You ain’t gonna be able to stop them,” he stated. “They are getting real powerful.”

  For a moment, Matthew’s gaze faltered, but then his face filled with resolve. “It’s not up to me to know the results of our being there. All I know is that I could never live with myself if I didn’t at least try to reveal what is going on with the Klan. The power they have is within their secrecy, and in the fear they instill. If we can shine the light on some of those secret plans, perhaps it will give people courage to stand against them.”

  “And if you get killed in the process?” Hobbs asked.

  Matthew’s smile was sad. “Then at least I’ll know I wasn’t one of those who turned their backs and let them have their way.”

  Hobbs stared at him as the truth of his statement penetrated the remaining fear gripping his mind and heart. It cut through the fog and allowed him to see more clearly. “You any good at disguises?” he asked.

  Matthew blinked. “Disguises? Why?”

  Hobbs shrugged, his determination solidifying as his mind came up with a solution. “I reckon I don’t want to turn my back neither. If you gonna go to that convention, I reckon I ought to go, too. You can come with me, but you can’t come looking like you do. I guarantee the Klan knows exactly who you and Peter are. You can’t look nothing like what you look like now.”

  Matthew’s face was still troubled. “Disguises can be created, but you won’t be safe there, Hobbs. You haven’t given the Klan what they wanted. You can’t just waltz in there.”

  Thomas had been silent for a long while. “Then let’s give them what they want,” he said. “You and I both know you might not find a secret entrance into the Maxwell House in Nashville. If Hobbs can get you in, you’ll find out what you need to know.” He nodded, his eyes filled with certainty. “It’s the perfect solution.”

  Hobbs’ mind was spinning. “How am I gonna give the Klan what they want? I ain’t gonna do nothing to hurt you and the rest. That’s the only thing that will satisfy them.” He shook his head firmly. “I ain’t gonna do it!”

  “We’ll figure it out,” Thomas said. “When something is right, there is always a way to accomplish it. I don’t know the answer just now, but I’m sure there is an answer. We’ll find it.”

  The confidence in Thomas’ voice broke through Hobbs’ fear again. He nodded slowly. “It will have to be good,” he warned. “They got eyes everywhere.”

  “We’ll make it good,” Thomas promised. He smiled suddenly. “It feels wonderful to actually be doing something—not just waiting for something else to happen.” He turned to everyone at the table. “Let’s come up with a plan.”

  ********

  Spring had spread upward from the South and taken a firm hold on Philadelphia by the last week of April. Maple trees were bright with green, oak leaves were unfurling to cast gentle shade on the sidewalks, and window boxes were full of vivid colors celebrating the demise of another brutal winter. Heavy winter coats had been exchanged for light sweaters that acknowledged a lingering chill in the evening air. Hordes of people strolled the streets or settled on porch chairs to chat with neighbors. Stars competed with lanterns just being lit to combat the evening dark, and a crescent moon hovered on the horizon.

  Carrie took a deep breath as she joined Abby and her father in the carriage at the train station. “It’s so good to be here!” she exclaimed, excitement radiating through her as she gaz
ed around. Making the decision to be home on the plantation with Robert, rather than the forced confinement of the city, had freed her to enjoy all the things Philadelphia had to offer. She felt a small twinge of regret that she was not arriving to start school, but the joy of her life on the plantation was so much greater. She had accepted the fact that answers would come at the right time.

  “You’re sure you feel well?” Thomas asked anxiously.

  “I’m fine,” Carrie assured him. She had been a little concerned about how she would handle the long train ride, but the private room her father had secured was comfortable and surprisingly spacious for a train car. She had been fatigued by the carriage ride in from the plantation the day before, but the gentle sway of the train had lulled her to sleep almost immediately. “I can’t believe I slept almost the whole way!”

  The anxiety in her father’s eyes didn’t diminish. She knew he had probably been alarmed when she had slept for so long. “Have you ever been pregnant?” she demanded. She didn’t bother to wait for an answer to her rhetorical question. “You have no idea how exhausting it can be to live and sleep for two.”

  Thomas managed a laugh. “That is an argument I can’t refute,” he said wryly. His face relaxed and his eyes slowly followed. “You’ll have to forgive a father for worrying about his only daughter.”

  Carrie leaned forward to kiss him on his cheek, satisfied she had alleviated his concern for at least a little while. Abby had warned her he would be especially vigilant because he still had such vivid memories of her mother almost dying when she gave birth. She supposed she could understand his fear, but nothing would have stopped her from taking part in the opening of the Moyamensing factory.

  She turned to her stepmother. “Will it be strange not to stay in your home?”

  “Not a bit,” Abby assured her. “I was so glad when they gave my room to another student from the College of Homeopathy. It seemed such a waste for my room to merely sit there empty. And besides, it will be wonderful to stay with Janie while Matthew is gone.”