CHAPTER 24

Tom’s Marriage

Tom would have run away to escape the embarrassment which this most unusual development was causing him. He would have liked to leave far, far behind him, the people who knew about his family. He felt that the sister and the brother with whom he had been reared, were no longer his, that they too, had become negroes, and he set his heart against them, resolving to disown them forever.

He did not blame them when he learned of their marriage, but since they were setting up homes with their spouses, he knew that they were not trying to run away from their father’s choice.

He was so much in love with the girl who was the daughter of these people who had become as parents to him, he could not bear the thought of asking her to marry him. He could not bring disgrace upon them, and he knew that the only way out would be for him to slip away, to a strange land, among strangers. Yet he could not bring himself to part with his sweetheart, without telling her why he was leaving.

When he mentioned going away where he was not known, she offered to marry him and go with him to a new country.

They were immediately married, and he went at once to the Land Office at Paulding and applied for a tract of land for a homestead.

Together, they went miles above the settlements where they were known, to this land that was a wilderness. This was good land, and once cleared, it would be a good farm, and there they would find new friends and live the good life.

As other pioneers before them had done, they built a good house and were becoming established and acquainted.

Then quite unexpectedly, Tom received a message from home.

After Molly and Jeff had built a house, and moved to themselves, and after Mat and Fan were set up to housekeeping, there was no one left at Newt’s house except Georgianne with Serena.

With Tom out of the way, Georgianne, disappointed because she had failed to ensnare him, and angry because his mother constantly reminded her that she was a negro, and should remember a negro’s place, spitefully decided to charm the captain.

And, with the aid of Rachel, soon the fair Georgianne became his mistress.

He was very flattered to have the young woman flutter about him, and wait upon him, hand and foot, as he was fast becoming an old man.

Still, he had respect enough for Serena not to keep another woman in his house. So he built Georgianne a house near the house of Rachel.

Serena informed Georgianne immediately that her services were no longer needed, that Rachel could come in whenever someone was needed to help with the work, but Georgianne refused to be dismissed. Every day found her in the kitchen, pampering the Captain.

Serena became so angry because of this, she refused to speak to her husband, which pleased him well enough. He did not speak to her.

Rachel took the cup. She looked long and searchingly into the dregs.

“My daughter, you are so unwise. You must get the Captain’s wife out of the way, before she gets you out of the way, because trouble shows in the cup.”

She shook her head, and her golden earrings jingled. “Ah, poison,” she whispered. “I see a poison death, but I can’t see to make out the face of the poisoned one,” said Rachel.

She lifted the pot from the coals and poured a few more drops of the coffee into the cup, trying to capture the vision of the face of the poison victim.

There were several unsuccessful attempts, and Rachel gave up.

Georgianne pondered this, and by morning she had formed an evil plan. She was afraid to wait, for she was sure that Rachel had foreseen her death in the cup, and she knew that Serena, who was fully aware of her power over Newt, hated her enough to poison her.

The quadroon and the wife of the Captain were not speaking.

She waited until Serena took her noonday nap, and while she lay sleeping, Georgianne crept in with an axe.

She had planned to tell Newt that his house had been robbed, and the robber had slain his wife. No one would know. There would be no witnesses.

She stood there, motionless, and watched her victim breathe evenly, in restful sleep. Slowly, and deliberately, she inched up the axe, as she moved on tiptoe nearer the bed, until the axe was poised in the right position for a death blow to the head of the sleeping woman.

Behind her, Rachel screamed, and Georgianne, taken by surprise, whirled around without striking.

Serena bounded up, awake, and Georgianne rushed her with the drawn axe, but Rachel was quick to wrest it from her hands.

Something had prompted Rachel to follow her daughter, because the premonition of evil had hung over her, and she knew that all was not well. She knew that Georgianne was mean and unmanageable, with a will of her own. She would not listen to Rachel, and the Mulatto was afraid for Serena’s life.

Serena saw that Rachel had saved her life, and while life existed within her, she knew that she must get away.

The message to Tom informed him that his mother had been driven from home by the quadroon, and that she was on her way to live with him.

Later, Captain Newt sent Serena word that he would send away the negroes on his place, if she would return to him, but she did not trust his word, and she knew that the promise was a scheme to get her back.

All this, Tom and his wife were keeping a close secret from their neighbors, and they spread the news around that his mother was coming for a visit.

It was the custom back then for neighbors to help one another. And Tom wished to clear the land, so he invited seventeen families to come for the log-rolling dinner.

His wife and his mother made big preparations for the occassion, working late at night, carding the bats, and getting ready for the quilting.

Whenever log-rollings were held, the women went along, as the quilting bee was a social event, where they laughed and talked, as they busied their needles, quilting out two or three quilts for the hostess, or for a family that had had a burn. And at noon, when the men came in to eat, there was frolic and fun and feasting.

It usually took the greater part of a week to cook up for the log-rolling dinner, and Tom took great care, he being a newcomer to the neighborhood, and wishing to make a good impression, to provide the best of everything for the dinner at his house.

His mother and his wife were both good cooks, and they determined to set a table that would be the envy of the other ladies, and one that would receive praise from the men, so they baked and worked at the task for days before the date that was set for the log-rolling.

The butchering that Tom did gave them even more work to be done, but they wanted the best of fresh beef and tender hams.

By the time the morning arrived of the big day, there was little else to do, except to add the final touches.

The quilting frames had been suspended from the beams of the ceiling by the stout cords, and the first quilt-top and lining had been whipped in, with the softly carded bats laid between, and the chairs had been placed around for the ladies, and every little detail attended to.

Serena and Mary were dressed for company, in their neatest calico, and Tom was very proud of his women, and was most anxious to have his neighbors come to eat his food.

The hour arrived. It began to look like the people were a little late.

Mary and Serena were becoming a little nervous.

A man came up on horseback, and was welcomed in. But with him was no wife. He made an excuse for his wife’s failure to come, which caused no great concern, because out of the seventeen, surely, there would be more women than could find room around the quilt to have room to quilt!

Soon another man came up in an oxcart. No woman was with him. He also had an excuse for not bringing his wife. Then the third man arrived, but with him was no wife.

No one else came.

Poor Tom quickly suspicioned the reason his invitations had been rejected, and was overwhelmed by the piteous expression on his dear wife’s face, when she realized that, as his wife, she was doomed to share the fate of the unwanted.

The story of the Knights had followed them here, and Tom was expected to be like his father. Therefore, the people felt that they could not afford to associate with these people, who had come from a family that were mingled with negroes.

The three men worked as hard and as faithfully, as if a dozen others were there, and gave Tom a good day’s work in the clearing.

Serena stepped out in the yard and looked towards the sun. Then she carefully placed her right foot in the shadow of her head.

“When you can step on your shadow, its dinner time,” she announced to Mary. “Blow the dinner horn.”

When the men came in to dinner, neither of the women showed signs of disappointment or sadness, and Mary smiled bravely, as she waited table and carried on pleasant conversation.

But after the day was done, and the men had departed, and the three of them were alone, it was Tom who was the more downcast, because he felt that he had brought this terrible thing upon one so young and innocent. Poor Mary! Why did he ever bring disgrace upon this lovely girl, who could have married a man with a good name to offer? He reproached himself, but she would not let him bear the blame. She rushed to him, and threw her arms about his neck.

“I am not sorry,” she insisted. “I asked you to marry me, and bring me away from where you were known, but we just didn’t go far enough. We shall move, go to other parts, if you like, or we shall stay here, and stick together. And we shall trust in the Lord, and we shall prosper,” said she, trying to console him.

“Oh, the awfulness of it all,” wailed poor Tom. “Just three men and nary a woman, out of seventeen families invited! We don’t have enough friends to bury us!”

But brave Mary would not have it so.

Dusk was upon them. Tom and the sorrowful women carried out whole pies, cakes, and big platters of meat to the rail fence, and while he called up his hogs to throw the food to them, Mary, with a wooden tray balanced upon the fence, wept silently. Not because of hurt pride but because she was so sorry for poor Tom.

She wiped her eyes on her apron, and lifted her head, determined to help him live down the name that had followed him like the shadow of a ghost.

The courageous spirit of Mary goaded Tom to greater efforts, and despite the attitude of their neighbors, they were beginning to get a good start.

People, seeing their determination, were soon sorry that they had mistreated them, in their hour of need.

But poor Mary’s frail body could not withstand the heartache, the toil, and the hardships this life of loneliness in a wilderness afforded her, and after two short years, she died, leaving an infant daughter.

This was too much for the young husband, and weaker men would have given up, but Tom became more religious, and his faith lifted him up from the depths of despair. Left with the young child, he resolved, for her sake, to carry on and prove to the people that he was a real man.

His wife’s family came to his rescue, and to be in the same house, where she could take care of her orphaned niece, Sarah, the sister of Mary, became Tom’s wife.

What people said or thought made no difference to her, and with her courage and help, Tom prospered and became respected by all those who knew him.

The trials and hardships that he went through were known to no man. It seemed that disaster hounded him wherever he went, but patiently, he trudged along, doing the things he thought were right.

The biggest problem he had to confront him was his mother. What to do about Serena, since she had become his responsibility, tormented him day and night, because they were of such different views.

It was only natural that Serena loved her daughter, Molly, and her son, Mat, so she could not help being concerned about their welfare. While on the other hand, Tom blamed them for continuing to live with their mixed-blood mates whom his father had chosen, and had forced them to marry, and he set his heart against them, refusing to speak to them, or to even mention their names, except on the occasion when he lectured his mother.

“Now, Mother,” he said to her, “you know you are welcome to live with me in my house, because I love you, and I cannot stand by and let you be murdered by that hussy, which I know would happen to you, because now, you would not have old Rachel there to protect you.”

“But I must go back up there to see my grandchildren, for Molly’s children are mine, and Molly is still my own, and as near to me as you are,” retorted Serena.

“Mother, you may go, if that is what you wish, but you are going to have to choose between me and Molly,” Tom replied. “I have never spoken to her, although she is my full-blood sister, and I have never set foot in her house, since she has had one, and I shall never, as long as I live, for I am a white man, and I am living like a white man.”

“Molly is not a negro, and neither are her children negroes,” answered Serena, hotly.

“Well, you may do as you please,” said Tom, “but there is one thing certain, you cannot go back up there, and associate with them, and then come back to me. You may get together your belongings, and if you had rather live among negroes than to live with me, I shall carry you back, but remember, it is for always.”

So, Serena cast her lot with Molly, going to live in Jeff’s house.

The face of the poisoned one in the cup proved to be Rachel. She evidently failed to predict her own future.

Suddenly, death was upon her, and at the early age of forty, Rachel left behind her a strange people, whose lives were a turmoil of hate, and fear, and humility. A people without “place,” a people not belonging to either race.

Little ones, not old enough to look after themselves, but the three grown sisters, the two white, and the other black, took on the responsibility of rearing them.

Especially did Georgianne take an interest in her half-brothers and half-sisters. And it was Georgianne who always told them, “You are not negroes, so do not associate with them. If you must marry, then marry a white person, so that your children can be taken into the schools and churches.”

She counseled them as to their rightful place, and told them to be always anxious to gain the favor of white people, to invite white people into their homes, but never, on any occasion, try to visit a white man in his home. “Let them come to you,” she advised. And she, likewise, abided by this sound judgement and wisdom.

Like Rachel, Georgianne possessed a strange and relentless power over men, and after Rachel’s death, she stepped into her mother’s role. And men rode over the trails to Georgianne’s house.

To Georgianne were born children who were white and beautiful. Children who called themselves Knight but who, actually, did not have one drop of Knight blood in them. But since their mother was liberated by the Knight family, they had no choice except to bear that name, as they were without benefit of one provided by a legal father, as Georgianne never had a husband and lived to a ripe old age without changing her slave name.

The descendants of Rachel were never quite sure how she got the poison dose.

Many thought that Georgianne poisoned her own mother, while others thought that Serena mixed the dose for Georgianne, and Rachel got it by mistake, while others thought that Rachel partook of her own concoction, while brewing a magic potion, and was accidentally poisoned.

Despite her evil cunning, there were some good characteristics about the Mulatto. It was she, with the Captain’s help, who taught her family to work and earn an honest living. It was she who taught them that they must become a respected people, and try to find “place.”

Tom thought that he had turned his back upon his mother. He thought that he could forget her, now that she was living in Jeff’s house, with full knowledge that he was one-quarter negro, but when Serena came back, Tom relented, and welcomed her home.

From the conversations with his mother, he learned that she had been trying to help Molly to rear and educate her children as Christian white people, but her plans were shattered upon learning that Molly had not become Christian, as she supposed, and there had been a disagreement between them that was not altogether pleasant. And to avoid bitter conflict, Serena was back at Tom’s house seeking shelter.

Piece by piece, Tom got the story of Molly’s life up there in “No Man’s Land.”

Serena had insisted that they, she and Molly, go to church and carry Molly’s four children, which Molly agreed to do.

When they entered the church, on that Sunday morning, everyone turned to stare, because in that part of the country, strangers were unusual.

Molly was not known to many of her neighbors, as she had kept out of sight after her marriage, but some of the older ones recognized Serena. There was nudging and whispering among the members of the congregation, while the pastor read his text.

When he had finished, and before the newcomers were hardly settled in their seats, one of the deacons arose and asked for the floor, which request was granted.

He cleared his throat, vehemently, and began, “Uh, I wish to say we have with us some people, er some people,” he stammered, “Uh, that have not been a’ comin’ here, and I er wish to say that this is a white church for white people, and no niggers allowed.”

He did not finish, and he did not have a chance.

Serena rose to her feet, “If you’re a meanin’ us,” shouted Serena, “I’ll have you understand, sir, that we are as white as you are!” She clenched her fists, and the color rushed to her face. Her voice trembled, “I have as much right here, in this house, as you have!”

Her argument was interrupted with, “People who live with negroes are no more than negroes, an’ what you say about bein’ white is true, but what about them chillern, there?”

“Molly’s children are not negroes,” replied Serena.

“Then, they are not the children of the white negro?”

Serena did not answer. She was lifting one of Molly’s small pretty ones off the bench, and Molly was getting up, and getting out, with the little one in her arms. The bigger ones followed, wide-eyed, and astonished, too young to understand, and failing entirely to comprehend the meaning of their beautiful mother’s bitter tears.

Serena told the story to Tom, her anger mounting with the details of that last effort to gain admittance into a white congregation, in that part of the country.

Her own tears flowed freely, as she related to her son the sadness and grief of his sister.

“And I stood up, and told him that Molly’s children are not negro,” repeated Serena.

“Mother, I would not have had you stand up and say that for fifty dollars,” said Tom.

“But, it is a fact. They are not one bit negro,” insisted his tearful mother.

“I know that as well as you do,” he replied, softly, “and other people also know that, or at least, they think that, for it is common talk, that marriage has not changed my sister.”

Serena then knew that the information had leaked out and had reached Tom, that his sister was continuing to live the life of a strumpet.

Having Jeff for a husband had not prevented her from having the men of her earlier acquaintance call upon her. And her children were not the children of her quadroon husband but were the children of different white men.

Although the first four children of Molly bore the name Knight, they were not Knights. Her first son was a handsome man of pure white blood, whose father was a counterfeiter, and as soon as he was old enough to learn the story of his origin, left this part of the country, and later married a white woman, and his family, bearing the name of Knight, are entirely white, with no trace of negro blood. The other three also married white people, and theirs are of the pure white race.

All Molly’s children were brought up with the knowledge that they were white, and were educated in their own private school and abroad, and they all married other white people, and it is doubtful if Molly had but one son by Jeff, and he was Otho, whose characteristics are to an extent, negroid.

Although Otho has lived apart from negroes, and has never sent his children to a negro school or church, they are not acceptable as white people, because they are, if Jeff was their grandfather, one-sixteenth negro.

These unfortunate people should bear the name of their Georgia ancestor, the man who begot Jeff, because they are not entitled to bear the name Knight, by right of birth.

As Tom went his way, he lived a good life, with the exception of hating the negro race. He hated any person whom he so much as even suspicioned was not entirely white, and would never consent to any one of Molly’s or Mat’s children entering his house, which on more than one occasion, they attempted to do, because of their grandmother.

Tom’s refusal to let Molly’s family visit Serena caused her to leave him a second time, to return to her old home, up in the Salsbattery country, as she was gradually dying from cancer.

Mat lived up there with Fan, the quadroon sister of Jeff, until after six children had been born to them. He seemed to be satisfied, and worked with his family, with apparently no thought of their “place.”

One day when Tom was at work in his fields, he saw his brother coming to him. They had not spoken since Mat had married Fan, and had seen each other from a distance, only. And then Tom had turned and walked in the opposite direction, pretending he had not seen Mat.

Now he knew that something was wrong. Why would Mat come to him, unless perhaps to tell him that his mother was dead?

So, expecting such a message, Tom went forward to meet his brother.

Grown men seldom weep as Mat was weeping. He could not immediately tell Tom what was the trouble. Sobbing brokenly, he fell at his brother’s feet, prostrate with grief.

Tom tried to help him to his feet, begging him to quiet down, and tell him what had happened. Finally, Mat became subdued, and implored Tom for help.

“What kind of help do you need?” asked Tom.

“I have just had an awakening,” answered Mat. “I have just come to realize what I have done. I am guilty of the greatest sin a man ever committed, by bringing into the world a family that is part negro. I never thought, after I took Fan, that my children would show a trace of negro blood, because she didn’t. But as they get older, it is plain to see, and I am the cause!” he cried wringing his hands and weeping even harder. “I wish I could die and get out of it all.”

“That wouldn’t help. You could a done like I did, Mat. I would a stood and died, before I’d a been forced into a thing like that to please a crazy man. You could a’ run away, like I did.”

“But I was afraid then,” wailed Mat. “I wish I had died when I was born—this is killing me!”

“You just as well stop that carryin’ on then, an’ do something about it,” Tom advised.

“You can’t undo what you’ve done, but you don’t have to keep on living up there with that woman, an’ keep a’ bringin’ more children into the world, which of course, you’ll do, if you stay with her.

“I’ll help you on one condition, and that is, if you’ll promise never to go back, or never to go inside that house again, as long as you live. I will take you in with me, although I am ashamed of you, and I will help you to get a divorce, and then I will help you to find a white woman that you can marry.

“With leaving your folks plenty to go upon, they can live without you, and you can become a white man again.”

Mat agreed to do anything his brother asked of him, and steps were immediately taken to free Mat from his quadroon wife.

But when a lawyer was consulted, it was found that no divorce could be granted him, because, under the law, he had never been legally married, as it is against Mississippi law to marry a person that is negro, or a person with negro blood. And any person who has as much as one eighth negro blood, must pass as a negro. Therefore, since there had been no legal marriage, there could be no legal divorce, and Mat found himself free.

Soon he married a white woman by the name of Francis Smith, and together, they started out trying to make amends for the mistake of Mat’s boyhood.

The people born of Mat and Fan are the only Knights with any part negro blood, and they all left the country and went where they were not known, and married white, in order to reduce it to one sixteenth in their children.

There were many other negroes, besides Rachel, former slaves of the old Knight family, who bear the name, and some of them are intermarried with Mulattoes of the Musgrove and Ducksworth negroes, but there are no mixed people living today, who have in them Knight blood.