Olivia walked into the dining room as the short, bald man sitting at the table bowed toward Amos Cooper and said, “It’s all thanks to the Dred Scott case that this year of our Lord, 1857, will be known as the year of infamy.”
The slender man at his side faced him and said, “Please to God that it doesn’t get worse; but sir, I fear this is only the beginning.”
Olivia whispered, “Has something happened?” The men jumped to their feet. “I beg your pardon,” Olivia murmured. “I didn’t realize you were having a meeting.”
Sadie came into the room bearing a pot of coffee and a platter of pastries. She beamed, “Oh, Olivia, I didn’t know thee had returned, did thee find the Tuckers well?” At Olivia’s nod, she added, “Come meet our guests. This is the Reverend Nathaniel Barker and Thomas Caffrey. Now, gentlemen, this is Miss Olivia Thomas.” She bowed and Sadie said, “Come have refreshments with us, Olivia.”
Thomas Caffrey sat down and offered the plate to Olivia. “I didn’t intend to alarm you or anyone else. Unfortunately the climate of these United States is as frosty as the weather.”
The Reverend Barker explained, “Caffrey is a newspaper man, and a very good one. He could become one of the nation’s most influential men if he would keep his mouth shut about the number one problem in the country.”
“Washington,” Olivia guessed.
“No, slavery. Without a doubt it will pull us into war. Now we are down to quibbling over when.”
“Not war, secession,” Olivia said quickly. “We’ve been hearing this for years. South Carolina started it over the tariff situation. Sir, surely you know more than I, and it’s common knowledge in the South, that the Union will make concessions before they will allow war. The South has economic problems, and we both know how vital slavery is right now.”
Caffrey poured coffee for Olivia. “From your speech I assume you are from the South.”
She nodded and picked up her fork.
“Then perhaps you can carry a message back to the people. It is virtually impossible to reach the common Southern family now.”
She put her fork down. “Sir, why is that?”
“Northern newspapers are suppressed in the South. Anything that addresses the slavery issue is prohibited. Of course, you know freed slaves don’t live in the South.”
“Sir, they do live in the South. I feel I’m being baited. Surely it’s their choice to live where they please.”
“Not theirs. In the Southern community, a free slave sends signals saying that emancipation is possible and workable.”
“But you said free Negroes aren’t living there. I’m absolutely positive they are.”
“Then I should qualify my statement. I know that after the Revolutionary War some slaves were given their freedom. This was their reward for fighting in the war. They did continue to live in the South, and their descendants do so today. In addition we all know that there is a group of mixed-blood free men, the offspring of white masters and slave women, some of whom are free.
“But, Miss Thomas, these people, while they are residents in the South, have no real freedom. Education isn’t available, neither are they seen as citizens of country or state. It isn’t correct to list them as free.”
She took a bite. When he turned to his own pastry, she asked, “You said I could carry a message. What is it?”
“That the common Southern man is losing the right to speak out; he is surrendering his freedom by default. Each day that passes there is less opportunity for recovery of that freedom. At this rate, soon a few plantation owners will be shaping not only the South, but the future of the entire Union.”
He leaned forward and peered into her eyes, saying emphatically, “I cannot believe that the South is willing to surrender its freedom. And I mean the South that includes all men, rich and poor. Plantation owners and the common yeoman.”
“Surrender its freedom? That is not so,” Olivia replied. “On the contrary, Sir, we are demanding the right to preserve our way of life in freedom.”
Gently the Reverend Barker said, “Freedom isn’t freedom if there’s one segment of our people who are not free.”
“I am not speaking of slaves now,” Caffrey said. “When we finish this delicious treat, I will show you a newspaper clipping, written by a resident of North Carolina—a farmer by the name of Helper. His article addresses that fact that many lower-class Southerners have been impoverished by the institution of slavery. While this saddens me, I rejoice to know there are Southerners who don’t support slavery.”
Caffrey sipped his coffee before he continued. “The time is passing quickly. Soon it will be too late to reverse the trend of unquestioning compliance. There must be change in ideology.”
“What is your objection?” she asked curiously.
“You’ve a handful of men whose self-interest has dictated the continuation of slavery, contrary to the Constitution. They are willing to pull this whole country into war to serve their interests. Will you take this message back? Ask the Southern women to rise up in protest. If their menfolk will not come to the aid of the country, they must—and quickly, before the minority shapes their lives and orders their destiny to the detriment of the whole nation.”
Olivia got to her feet. “Sir, I cannot believe that in this country of freedom, you feel obligated to preach a gospel such as this. The Bible tells us slavery is acceptable, and we know ourselves to be honest Christians.”
“I won’t quarrel with thee, my dear,” the Reverend Barker interjected soberly, “but I will ask thee, for the sake of thy soul and the continuation of this country, be absolutely certain that thee know’st what God is saying through His Word.”
“In addition,” added Caffrey, “rather than quibble about the biblical support for slavery, isn’t it more logical to examine the institution and measure its worth? Aren’t the benefits totally for the man who is becoming rich? One way that society creates bad institutions and destroys good ones is through the apathy of its people.”
Olivia started for the door and then turned. “You mentioned Dred Scott. I recognize the name, and back home the ruling was welcomed. Why do you object?”
“Because it opened the whole country to slavery. Our goal was a fair plan—sectionalism—and then just allow slavery to phase itself out of existence. But the Dred Scott ruling is handwriting on the wall. I will remind you of the ruling; perhaps you can judge for yourself.” Caffrey paused and then continued.
“For a period of years, the slave Dred Scott lived with his master in free territory. Sometime after the death of his master he sued for his freedom. The case finally went to the Supreme Court, where Chief Justice Taney held that no Negro was a citizen of the United States, therefore his suit was invalid. The outcome of the matter is to nullify the Missouri Compromise of 1850. His ruling stated that Congress has no right to limit slavery in the territories. You recall, of course, that the Compromise was an attempt to keep the balance of slave and nonslave states equal.”
“So that’s Dred Scott. Nevertheless, I am surprised there isn’t more rejoicing in the South,” she said slowly. “Why their caution?” In the silence she looked up. The men were smiling at each other.
Caffrey looked up at her. “Miss Thomas, thank you. That’s the best news I’ve had all day. If the South isn’t rejoicing, then there’s a strong reason.” He turned. “Barker, perhaps you are right. This man, Lincoln, just might be reason enough to make the South cautious.”
****
“Looks and feels like Christmas, doesn’t it?” Sadie turned from her work to look at Olivia. She nodded and went back to crimping the crust on her apple pie. Olivia continued, “I keep thinking of Alex and the people out there somewhere. It’s so cold.”
Sadie shoved the pie in the oven and stirred the kettle of beans. “Thee worries too much. The Father knows where they be, and what is going on.” She peered curiously at Olivia and continued, “One of the greatest lessons we can learn in life is to trust the Father to care for His own. Not,” she added hastily, “that we aren’t to be praying, but instead to remind us even more to pray. Our Lord loves to hear from us, to know we also care about His children.”
Olivia rubbed at her roughened knuckle. Gently Sadie reminded, “Thee hasn’t shown much enthusiasm for Bible study lately. If you go get your pretty blue Bible and read aloud while I darn this stack of stockings, we might both benefit.”
On her way upstairs, Olivia paused to look around the shadowed hallway. With the sun behind heavy storm clouds, the once sunny hall seemed ordinary and dismal. Quickly she mounted the stairs, found the Bible under a stack of papers, and went back downstairs.
“Amelia said she might not return tonight,” Olivia reminded Sadie. “If Mrs. Tucker’s fever hasn’t broken, she will stay.”
Sadie nodded and rocked as she plunged the needle in and out of the thick woolen stocking. Olivia watched a moment longer. When Sadie glanced at her, she asked, “Where shall I read?”
Sadie straightened in her chair and cocked her head. “Does thee hear something too?”
“Yes.” Olivia got to her feet and walked to the parlor window. The snow had created an early dusk, hiding the wharf and even the road, but the sounds were growing louder. As she listened she decided it was the murmur of voices.
She hurried back to Sadie. “I think it’s people coming, I seem to hear voices.”
“Build up the fire in the parlor,” Sadie said as she heaved herself out of the chair. “I’ll get something hot going.”
Olivia rushed to the fireplace, poked at the big log, and shoved in more wood. The sound of voices ceased, but she heard a soft crunch in snow. Was that a whimper? Caution discarded, she ran to the door just as the tapping began.
Sadie was behind her and they tugged open the door. A huddled mass of people swayed in the doorway. Olivia began pulling them inside. Shivering, dripping melting snow from scanty clothing, coughing, with babies crying, they came into the hallway and Sadie pushed them toward the fire.
Olivia ran for soft rags and the kettle of hot water. Tossing in a handful of Sadie’s herbs, she carried it into the parlor. She looked at frightened black faces, tiny terrified ones, and then the tall bearded man in the doorway. He didn’t speak, but Olivia heard him cough. Fighting the desire to run to him, she stopped beside the people and began ladling out hot tea. One black face came close to her, gesturing toward Alex. “Please, for him.” Olivia filled the cup and watched the woman carry it to Alex.
Soon, the people began sitting on the floor, moving carefully, and sharing the warmth and tea. The strain on the faces eased, and for a moment one face was slashed by a smile.
But she could see that Alex was still on his feet. With a curious frown he peered around the room before slowly following Sadie down the hall.
The outside door opened again, and Caleb came in. He stood shivering and looking around. Olivia went to him. “Come have some tea and share the fire.”
“Alex?”
“Sadie is taking care of him. What has happened?”
“Just a bad trip. We fought ice all the way up the Ohio. Thank God it wasn’t solid ice, but it slowed us down.” While he spoke, she noticed the question in his eyes as he looked around the room.
Caleb settled down beside the fire, and she brought him tea. “I’m going to get food ready,” she murmured, avoiding the questions in his eyes.
Sadie was at work slicing bread, heating more water, and stirring the beans on the stove. Olivia looked around and asked, “Shall I make porridge, too? There are babies.”
Sadie nodded. “There’s plenty of good cream; use that on it. Might be that’s all anyone will want. A mighty poor lot they are. I’m going to open up that barrel of clothes. They need something warm and clean right now.”
She started for the door and Olivia asked, “Alex?”
Sadie stopped, looked at Olivia and frowned. “He could present a problem. He’s asleep now, but that chest is bad. We need to get something hot into him when he awakens.”
I’m beginning to regret this, she thought. Hasty Olivia, as usual. With a sigh, Olivia took up the bread knife and began to slice another loaf.
She heard a whacking and thumping at the back door. Amos came into the house. “I heard them,” he said. “Here’s milk, and plenty of it. Everybody taken care of? I saw a light in Mother’s nursing room. Someone sick?”
Sadie came into the kitchen. “Alex has a cough and fever. The people are in the parlor. Will it be warm enough in the attic?”
“I’ll take up a load of wood for the little stove. The chimney puts a lot of heat into the space,” he informed the two women.
Caleb came into the kitchen. “Alex?”
Sadie pointed toward the door. “In there. Want to stay in with him?”
Caleb nodded. “He’s had that cough for weeks now.”
“Sounds like it. I’ll get out my herbs and make him a tonic. Won’t hurt to make a mustard plaster, too.” She turned to Olivia, “Let’s get that barrel and then start the little tykes in here for some food.”
After everyone had been fed, Olivia found herself staring down into the dishpan, wondering how many dishes were left to be washed. A timid hand touched her. “Please, Missy, we cause trouble. Let me work on the dishes.” Olivia lifted a grateful face and a grin spread across the dark face. “‘Sides, hot water sure feels good.”
Olivia stepped aside but helped put away the dishes and straighten the kitchen into its usual order. The black woman talked. “We were getting low on wood, so most of the time we huddled around the boilers, sharing our time down there. Alex showed us how to cook ’tatoes on the boilers and how to keep a pot of meal porridge going. It wasn’t too bad until we hit the snow. Then ice slowed us down.”
There was no problem putting the children to bed—they were almost asleep by the time they got up to their room. When the last dark figure had disappeared up the stairs, Olivia went to the open door. Sadie was bending over Alex. While Caleb supported his head, she coaxed him to take the herb tea. Olivia lingered a moment longer and then went up to her room.
As she prepared for bed, she recalled the things Sadie had been talking about when the people arrived. Olivia murmured, “‘Prayer,’ she said, and something about trusting the Father to take care of His own. And that He liked to know that we care for His children, too.”
As Olivia mused over Sadie’s words, she recalled the picture of Alex swaying in the doorway. Sadie’s words were an arrow, pointing her to pray for him. As she knelt, wondering where to begin, she seemed to sense a strong warm link being forged between her and the tall, bearded man. Why does it seem the link is God? Does He care how I feel about that man?
When she slipped to her knees beside the trundle bed, Olivia carefully folded her hands, realizing how long it had been since she had shaped a prayer with any real desire behind it. “Please God, Alex—he is very ill, please, will You help him recover?” And with the question there was the remembrance of promise.
Getting to her feet, she thought about the promise Alex had read to the people on that long ago sunny day. Olivia wandered around the room, looking for the Bible. Most certainly it was on the lampstand beside Sadie’s rocker.
Quietly she tiptoed back to the kitchen. The door to the nursing room was open. She could see Caleb sprawled in the deep chair beside Alex. They both appeared to be asleep. She hesitated a moment longer, found the Bible, and ran.
Back in her room, Olivia found the passage. John must be his favorite book, she thought, as her finger traveled down the page. In the dim light of the candle she read, “Hitherto have ye asked nothing in my name: ask, and ye shall receive, that your joy may be full.” She got to her feet, murmuring, “But what is joy?”