“Oh, it’s good to be home! I didn’t dream I would miss this place so much.” Olivia turned slowly in the middle of the keeping room of the farmhouse in Pennsylvania. From the stone fireplace at one end of the room to the stove in the kitchen at the far side of the house, there was warmth and comfort. She looked at the heavy beams overhead, admired the flicker of fire warming the plastered walls, and touched the shawl across the back of the settle.
“Sadie, you’ve finished knitting this shawl since we’ve been gone.”
“Aye. Just one load of slaves came through. There was little to occupy the time.” Going to the rocking chair beside the fire, she picked up the skein of blue wool and said, “Besides, I didn’t have a body around to keep me hopping from one end of the kitchen to the other. I missed thy chatter.”
“What are you making now?”
“A shawl for Beth, that new child Mike brought home. Doesn’t have a wrap to ward of the chill.”
Alex came down the stairs. “I’ve taken the bags upstairs. Sadie, since you’ve moved us out of the little room we’ll have to be upstairs with the rest of the guests.”
“Guests!” Sadie chuckled, “Now Alex, thou can’t go pulling that on me. I needed the nursing room, and thee two needed more room than thee had down here. Besides, thou knowest thou art family, and I’ll not have it otherwise. I suppose family can be shuffled around without complaining.”
“This new girl,” Olivia said, helping herself to an apple from the wooden bowl on the long table, “I believe you called her Beth Peamble. Is she really Mike’s girl?”
Sadie chuckled, shook her head and then frowned. Slowly she said, “She keeps us all guessing. Right now I think she’s anybody’s girl, if they can keep up with her. She’s nice; can’t help but like the little one, but—”
Olivia searched through the nut bowl on the buffet. “I don’t suppose you’ve heard from any of the others.”
“Crystal, Amelia, Matthew? No, my dear.” Sadie sighed and tugged at the skein of yarn. “Come here and hold out thy hands, I need to get this wool into a ball.”
Alex came out of the pantry, cookies in his hand. “Is Amos in the barn?” Sadie eyed the cookies and smiled at him. “I’m taking him one,” he said.
“Yes. I don’t suppose they fed thee in Canada or Washington. Better take more; Mike should be out there too. He’s been doing something to the Golden Awl. He’s also been muttering something about another trip before winter sets in.”
Olivia turned at a whisper of sound behind her. A girl blinked sleepy eyes and said, “I fell asleep, Sadie. These must be your friends, Alex and Olivia.” She looked at Olivia, “Friends is putting it mildly. You should have heard her, it’s been—” Her Southern accent slipped into mimicking Sadie’s gentle voice. “Alex says this, and Olivia does that. I can’t even wash dishes without being told how you do it so well. I’m glad to have you here—to show me how to wash dishes.” Her grin was mischievous, and Olivia laughed.
The outside door opened and Mike came in, his eyes searching out the girl across the room. He smiled and then said, “Olivia, and Alex, it’s good to have you safely home!”
Alex gestured with the cookies. “I was just ready to come looking for you. Want a cookie? Is Amos coming in?”
Mike took the cookie and nodded. “I’m mighty glad to have you here. I’ve been thinking about another trip. We had a full house last time.”
“He had me sleeping in the pilot house,” Beth murmured. “And trying to cook. Ugh! That was laughable! Me cooking for the darkies, when all my life—” She paused, gazing curiously at Olivia. “You’re Southern. How can you work against us?”
“What do you mean?” Olivia asked slowly.
“Mike told me what you’ve been doing, helping the slaves escape. You know it’s causing all kinds of problems. I heard tell—she stopped suddenly. “But then, you wouldn’t be interested.”
“Yes we are,” Alex said, going to sit on the stool beside Sadie. “I’d really like to hear what they are saying in the South.”
“Well for one thing, there’s stories of slaves being stirred up by the Northerners telling them they are as good as anybody, no matter what their color. I hear in Texas a body can’t sleep for fear. There are constant rumors of slaves banding together, intent on no good. A fellow in Alabama told us the slaves are putting poison in the wells in Texas, and in his home state they’re burning houses. It’s all ’cause of the abolitionists. I know for a fact the slaves were happy before.” She paused, glanced quickly around the circle and added, “They’re saying all these problems make the risk of separating from the Union seem very attractive.”
“And do you think so?” Alex asked.
Beth’s eyes sparkled. “It sounds exciting. But they’re saying it would never amount to much. Like nullification—a few threats and the North will start making concessions.”
“Have these stories been circulating for a long time?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know much about it, except what I hear. It’s only been this past year.”
“Have you seen any of the stories in the newspapers?” Alex pressed again.
“No. I’ve just been told about them.”
“Beth, is it possible these statements are all lies, meant to discredit the North? I think all of us, both North and South, deserve the truth. It’s necessary if we’re to make a good judgment, and that holds for every part of life—not just politics.”
She took a bite of apple, and when Olivia finally decided Beth would say no more, she turned to Mike. “We’ve been talking about another trip this autumn.”
“It’ll have to be soon,” Alex warned as he reached for an apple. “What is the status of the Awl?”
“Just needs work on the engine, fresh oil. We’d better take on a barrel of oil. It costs dearly on the other side of the Ohio.” He eyed Alex, “You’ve been to Washington. What do you think?”
“I didn’t like what I heard.” He turned to Sadie. “Remember Lucas Tristram? We met him at a reception in the White House. Seemed happy to see me there—called me a prodigal son returned home.”
Sadie peered at Alex. “Did thee say—”
“Not a word about anything,” Alex said as he and Mike moved for the door. “When he gets home, he’ll realize he did all the talking.” Sadie chuckled, but Olivia saw the shadows in her eyes and heard her sigh. Beth followed the men as they went out to the barn.
“I keep thinking and praying about them,” Sadie said. “Matthew and Crystal, and Amelia too. Prayin’ is about all I can do. That Tristram caused more trouble than a whole hive of fussed-up bees,” she added sadly.
Sadie finished winding the ball of yarn. “Might as well do another one while thee sits here. Our supper is in the oven, and I don’t get a chance to visit much.”
“What is the story about Beth? Is she going to stay here?”
“Doesn’t seem in a hurry to move on. She pays her way, seems to have plenty of money. Aye, and her story seems to vary once in a while.” Slowly she added, “Seems spunky. I’m sparing with my sympathy. Poor Mike! Thou hast seen nothing until thou seest the way she leads him around by the nose like a pet pig.
“Aye, and here I am gossipin’! But Olivia, ’tis hard to be sympathetic when thou art listening to her story and seeing her dimples flashing while there’s mischief in her eye. Poor Mike.”
That night Olivia sat on the bed beside Alex, saying, “Beth makes me uneasy. According to Sadie, she’s from one of the wealthy cotton families. But Alex, didn’t she talk too much about her family’s wealth?”
Alex nodded. “For having been as well educated as she claims, she seems to lack the polish I would have expected.”
“Didn’t know a thing about Sir Walter Scott.” Olivia grinned. “For a Southern lass, that’s nearly unforgivable!”
****
By the middle of the following week, the Golden Awl was back on the river. During the second week, while the shallow draft boat plowed through the low water of the Ohio, the weather soured, turning to icy rain and sleet.
Thinking of the red-haired girl they had left behind, Olivia chuckled as she watched Mike braced behind the wheel of the Golden Awl. The storm slung icy water through the window; Mike was drenched, but he whistled as if it were mid-June with soft breezes blowing. Olivia shook her head as she poured hot coffee for him. Sadie, my dear friend, she thought, Mike can take care of himself!
“Where’s Alex?” he yelled over the storm.
“In the cabin. He said to tell you he’ll be up to take the wheel in about ten minutes.” Mike shook his head and pulled his cap down on his head. “But you’ve been up here for hours now,” she insisted.
“Just let me get around the bend. The Mississippi is coming up, and I like to be the one to hit the water.” He glanced at Olivia. “There’s activity on the river. Since we made the last trip together, I’ve been seeing more patrol boats and commotion in the ports.” He pointed. “Looks like there’s a new ship on the river. Pretty good sized.” He pointed to the paddle wheeler coming around the bend.
“Very grand,” Olivia said. “Must be all passengers. I don’t see a bale of cotton anywhere. What kind of activity did you see?” She tugged her slicker close.
“In port, mostly trimming things up. Building new wharfs, buildings. Saw some stockpiles that surprised me. Looked like barrels of oil. Machinery of some kind.”
“Hear any rumbles or war talk?”
He gave her a curious glance. “You getting jittery over the situation? Alex and I voted for Lincoln to be President of the United States only two weeks ago and now you’re acting like the Lord isn’t in charge of all this.”
“Isn’t it amazing that we knew by the next day that Lincoln won the election?”
“Trust the Republicans to get things organized. I just wish it wouldn’t take so long to get him in the White House. Five months from election to inauguration seems a long time.”
“Mike, do you think the South will cause trouble—maybe secede?” His face settled into a thoughtful frown, but he shook his head. Olivia continued, “Did Alex tell you about our trip to Washington? Did he mention hearing that Buchanan was committed to secession?”
“Yes. But talk is one thing, Olivia; action is another. I’m inclined to think the South is big at talk, but I think the prevailing notion floating around the North right now is to treat her like a spoiled child and let her fuss. She’ll come around sooner or later.”
As the days passed, the chilly northern winds fell behind them and the air sweetened with lingering autumn as the Golden Awl moved swiftly southward down the Mississippi.
They were nearly to Vicksburg before problems began. Day after frustrating day they limped along the Mississippi, with barely enough power to move them. Finally, they discovered a widening crack in the boiler.
Jake, the roustabout, summed it up. “It ain’t doing us no good to burn all that wood and get steam leaking out all the cracks.”
Alex and Mike stared at each other across the table in the cabin. Alex hadn’t touched his breakfast. Now he gave a frustrated sigh. “To top it off,” he said, “it’s going to be nearly impossible to get a new boiler this time of year. It’ll have to come down from Ohio or Illinois. And if we have to wait on a boiler, we’re pushing against time. Before we can get our people and head up the Ohio, ice will have closed the river. I guess I should have allowed more time.”
“We had to stick around for the election,” Mike reminded him. “We all knew it was cutting it close, but it was a gamble we had to take.”
“But that’s the end of the gamble,” Alex said shortly. “From here on out we have to play it very safe. We can’t risk problems; the lives of the slaves depend on our caution and good judgment.”
Alex sloshed the coffee around in his cup while Olivia controlled her urge to remind him of the cooling porridge.
Finally Mike spoke up. “Alex, you and Olivia have been talking about visiting your folks in South Carolina. How would it be if you go now?”
“What would you do?”
“Spend the winter here. Get the repairs made, and be ready to take the Awl home around the first of April.”
“We could meet you back here. The Lord willing, we could continue on with our plans. Jake, what do you and Tim want to do? You’re both freedmen.”
“I want to stick close to Mike here. The South’s kinda upset right now, and I don’t wanna be sent down the river.” He paused. “Maybe we all could find jobs for the spell we’ll be here.”
Alex looked at Olivia. “How about it? Ready to go meet my parents?”
She nodded. “We’re close to Natchez. Perhaps when we come back we can visit my mother and father.”
Alex got to his feet. “Come on, crew. We’re going to have to get this boat into port as soon as possible.”
****
The next morning Olivia began to pack while Mike and Alex headed for the nearest shipping office.
The old gray-haired seaman confirmed Alex’s guess. He listened as Alex described the problem; shaking his head, he said, “I can get you a boiler, but it’ll take a month or so.”
When Mike and Alex returned to the boat, Olivia was standing on deck, waiting beside her packed trunk. Alex looked from the trunk to his wife’s face. “Olivia, you must have guessed correctly. I have the train tickets in my pocket.”
At the train station in Vicksburg, Alex pulled out their tickets and said, “It’s unfortunate we didn’t discover our problem in Memphis. We’re going to have to backtrack to Corinth, Mississippi and then turn east. We’ll cross Alabama and Georgia before we reach the coast and Charleston.”
The shriek of the train whistle pierced the morning air. The platform where they stood began to tremble. They turned to watch the dark cloud of smoke above the trees. Alex pulled Olivia’s arm through his and smiled down at her. “I trust you know about trains in the southeast. Before this trip is over, you will have grown very weary of changing trains and mopping soot from your face.”
As she wrinkled her nose, he added, “But you’ll have the desire of your heart—my constant and undivided attention.”
As the train shuddered and steamed into silence, she watched the men back wagons of wood and coal toward the locomotive. Turning to Alex, she murmured, “Well, I do appreciate your total attention, but I’m beginning to wish that I had learned to knit. Will it take forever to get to Charleston?”
“At least. When the trip becomes too monotonous, we’ll stop and do some sightseeing.”
****
When they reached Atlanta, Alex decided they needed a sightseeing break. That first morning they awakened refreshed by a gentle, rose-perfumed breeze lifting lace curtains to invade their hotel room. Olivia sat up and breathed deeply. “Oh, this is wonderful! I’d forgotten such air existed.”
“Coal and wood smoke does that,” Alex murmured. “But don’t you want to sleep longer? We can smell the roses later. I promise you, if there’s anything worth seeing in Atlanta you will have seen it before we get back on the train.”
She turned from the window. “You can sleep; I intend to enjoy every minute of this. Shall I bring you a rose and a croissant when I return?”
“You win.” His grin disappeared as he sat up.
“What is it, Alex?”
“I’ve been awake for an hour, thinking about the talk we’ve been hearing on the train. I had the distinct impression every statement began with ‘They say in Charleston….’ Most certainly they didn’t seem too concerned about having Lincoln as President, neither did they seem to think Buchanan was doing such a poor job.”
“What about the old gentleman who said the South will never allow the humiliation and degradation of having Lincoln inaugurated as president? The people around him scarcely looked his direction.”
“I had the feeling they’ve heard that statement before.”
“But not one of them seemed to have considered the implications of war. The gentleman was shocked when I suggested war carries a terrible price.” She paused.
“Think about this pleasant place being fired upon,” he mused.
“Fired upon? Oh, Alex, how horrible!”
Olivia went to the window, pulled aside the lace and leaned against the window frame. Deep crimson roses covered the trellis just below their window. Beyond the garden hedge she could see the street lined with stately houses, shielded by their secluded gardens. Brick, gleaming white paint, or old stone stamped them with character. Olivia reacted with a familiar pang of homesickness. It could have been a street borrowed from Natchez.
“It is beautiful,” she murmured, “but a beauty existing within bounds. I cannot imagine a calf eating petunias like they do in Pennsylvania, nor can I imagine a crinoline in a corn patch.” She turned to look at Alex. “At home in Mississippi, there is this same lovely order. Alex, what would happen to these people if there were war? It would be shattering. Given their gentle life, could they survive?”
Alex came to stand beside her. His eyes were troubled as he looked at the scene. “I hope and pray it doesn’t happen. If it does, I pray the people—all of us—survive to be stronger than ever before.” He turned, put his arms around her, and pulled her close. “Have we changed this much—enough to make comparisons and worry about the differences?”
She leaned back and ran her hands across his bare shoulders. “I don’t know,” she whispered. “But I am certain of one thing—the longer we are married, the more I realize how impossible it would be to live without you.”