December 1859
Albinia worked on a wedding dress with a difficult chiffon overlay. She just could not seem to get the gather in the back right, ripping it out for the third time. She heard the bell at the front of the shop and sighed in frustration at the interruption. She put on her pleasant face for dealing with customers, and came to the front counter. She was surprised to see not a woman but Joe Breckinridge. He was dressed unusually fine for a weekday, carrying a bouquet of pink Christmas roses. She could not imagine what he was doing or why he had come. She smiled inwardly at his seeming discomfort. Nevertheless, she went forward and greeted him warmly.
“Hello, Mr. Breckinridge. What a surprise! What brings you here? A dress for your mother?”
“No, no. And please call me Joe, as you did before. These are for you,” he said, thrusting the flowers at her. “I haven’t seen you much at church lately, so I thought I’d come to the shop. I ... I ... well, there’s the box social at the assembly hall on Sunday, and I wondered if you’d be there. I saw your pa at church. He laughed and said it seemed like all his ladies were in bloom, but he said it would be all right if I asked you.”
Stalling, as she tried to think what to say, Albinia took the flowers. “How very pretty! Wherever did you find them this time of year? Let me get them in some water. I’ll be right back.” Albinia went back to the rear of the building to get a glass and some water from a bucket in the corner. As she walked, her brain went in a whirl. What should she tell him? Yet she had told Will she had a secret beau, and would tell her father by Christmas. She needed a cover for her slave activities. Joe was her age. Could he be the excuse she needed? It was just a social. Saving lives was important, too. She walked back to the front where Joe was waiting, smiling at him.
“There! They will do nicely in this. It was very sweet of you to bring them. I do not see how I could turn down such a gentlemanly gesture. Of course, I must speak to my father about anything further. However, I am beholden to you in that … that other matter a few weeks back. It would be fun to get to know you better, Joe.”
Joe’s relieved and excited grin made her feel guilty. “Thanks—Albinia! May I call you that? I’ll be counting the days until Sunday!”
✳ ✳ ✳
Julia fussed and primped at the mirror.
“May I help?” Sara asked.
“Would you? I want to look nice for Hiram as much as I can.”
“Gladly—let me! Your dress is lovely. We just need to fix your hair, and maybe a little homemade blush I made last summer, with the hibiscus and beets.”
A few minutes later, Hiram’s carriage drew up. Julia pinched her cheeks, almost ruining the effect of the blush, and hurried out to meet him. She was so nervous her brain went in five directions at once. This was to be their first real outing together, as a courting couple.
“Julia!” Hiram beamed. “I’ve been counting the hours, looking forward to our outing.” He quickly hugged her, then lifted her as if she were a feather into the carriage. It was about fifty degrees, and sunny, so he had the carriage top down. The matched Morgan horses stood quietly. Hiram situated Julia with a lap robe and a foot-warming stove, and they were off!
“Hiram?” Julia hesitated ... she was getting used to using his first name, but it still seemed strange. “I ... I just want you to know—I’m going to try my best to be a good wife and companion for you. But I’m really nervous! I don’t feel like I know you that well, and I’m so afraid of doing or saying the wrong thing. I’m flattered, but I still don’t understand why you chose me.”
Hiram chuckled, then grew serious. “Don’t you know? That’s one of the things I love about you—you’re beautiful and don’t even know it. And I see a lot of strength in you, but not, how do you say… selfish?”
“Strength? How?”
“Like that time last week I saw you in town—the butcher tried to cheat you and gave you a bad cut of meat—but you spoke up, politely, and let him know you were no one’s fool. And that time at the dance….”
“Don’t remind me!”
“All right—but you showed strength and dignity—you didn’t let a little embarrassment overcome you. Some women would have made it worse crying, screaming, blaming someone else. You didn’t. And even though you were in pain, you didn’t complain.”
They drove on in silence for a while, stopping occasionally to admire the scenery. Hiram began singing comical Swedish folk songs, acting them out while at their stops. Even though Julia didn’t understand the words, his antics left her holding her sides in laughter. About two miles later, Hiram turned off the main Versailles road onto a side road.
“I’m sorry this is bumpy, but there’s something I want you to see.”
They stopped, but Julia couldn’t see anything remarkable, only trees. Hiram got down, coming around to her side of the carriage.
“What is it, Hiram? I only see forest.”
“Just come, you’ll see,” he said, helping her down.
When she was down, he took a thin strip of cloth and tied it around her head over her eyes.
“Now I can’t see anything!” she protested. “What’s going on?” He took her hand and led her forward. “Just come … trust me.”
Julia felt uncomfortable but very curious. She followed, stumbling, but Hiram’s strong arm was always there. He guided her with his hand, and the other hand in the small of her back, occasionally telling her to look out for a rock or a branch. It seemed they were walking on a path.
After a few minutes, Hiram brought her to a stop and turned her to the left. He removed the blindfold and Julia gasped. In front of them was the most beautiful sunset she had ever seen, over a small lake. Pinks, golds, purples flaming everywhere in the sky, clouds like soft feathers spread out across the expanse of blue, with the water quietly lapping at the pebbled shoreline. Ducks bobbed on the lake nearby, and as she watched, a fish jumped above the water after an insect. Just down the shoreline was a little cabin, but not the rude sort that she and her family lived in—this was handsomely built, with all glass windows and sawn lumber. In front of the cabin was a table, all laid out with food, candles, and a roaring campfire for warmth. She turned back to Hiram.
“How did you…?” she started to say, and then saw he was down on one knee.
“I want to do this right, after the way of your country,” he said. “Miss Julia Crump, will you marry me?” he said, holding out a gold ring with a large blue sapphire and diamonds on each side. “I want it to be because you want, not because our parents say. I will always love and protect you. If God allows, I will always come back to you.”
Julia was stunned. They had already promised to court, but this was beyond her wildest dreams. “Yes ... yes, Hiram, I will.”
He put the ring on her finger and gave her his arm, escorting her to the log table, helping her into her seat. They had wine, fish, and duck, everything prepared to perfection. She couldn’t imagine how he could have arranged it all. They talked and laughed. Hiram told her of his boyhood, his father, and his family in Sweden. He told her about starting as a cabin boy, mopping decks and cleaning staterooms, in his father’s steamboat business. Julia told him about her dreams of traveling, and her sorrow at the loss of her brother, the one between Will and Lydia.
The stars began to come out. Hiram took a whistle from his pocket and blew on it. Two white servants came from the cabin and began to clear everything away. So that’s how he’d done it!
Hiram helped her back to the carriage and lit the lanterns. The servants drove another small wagon—Julia noticed they were armed. Hiram began singing hymns on the way home in the moonlight, English hymns like “Rock of Ages” that she knew, and she joined in. It was late when they arrived back at the Crump homestead. Her father was standing in the dooryard with a lantern, as though trying to decide whether to come after her—but Julia saw him relax at the sight of her smiles.
Hiram helped her down, and gave her forehead a quick kiss. She wished her father had been in bed—she was twenty-one, after all!
“Until tomorrow, my beloved?” asked Hiram.
“Until then.”
✳ ✳ ✳
Will continued to drill with the Rifles. He supposed he was stubborn, but he did not like manipulation. Dr. Simpson’s offer felt like he and Jenny were trying to run Will’s life, tempting him to break his word. His father had encouraged him to join the Rifles, and even with the present tensions, had not yet told him to quit. He occasionally saw the Home Guard, with Joe and his father, drilling on another field. This gave him an odd feeling, but he knew others in the Home Guard with pro-slavery sentiments. He heard that the commander Simon Buckner was for Kentucky rather than the Union. He paid more attention to news and politics, particularly this Lincoln fellow everyone was discussing. Lincoln’s wife was one of the Todds, but she had not been back to Lexington recently.
Will knew he was stalling, avoiding making a decision. He had not answered Dr. Simpson yet but would have to soon, to avoid being rude. After supper, Will saw his chance to talk to his father. Julia was off with Hiram. Albinia had not come home. Will suspected she was with her beau. Robert settled into a chair in the corner, mending a harness by lamplight. Will pulled up a stool next to him.
“Pa, I got something on my mind.”
Looking up, Robert said, “All right, Son. What is it?”
“You remember I was invited to the Simpsons a while back?”
“Yes, Son. Seems like Jenny’s sweet on you. Fine family, the Simpsons.”
“Yes, sir. I like Jenny a lot too. That’s just the problem. You know I lost my job at Hobbs over the Rifles. Dr. Simpson seems favorable to a match between Jenny and me when we’re older. But he’s dead set against the Rifles. He doesn’t seem to hold a good opinion of our captain.”
“Well, times are changing. I still hope for peace. But there may be war. People are taking sides. It may be that both of us will have to choose.”
“But you encouraged me to join the Rifles. I have given my word of honor, my oath to the Rifles, and Captain Morgan. He’s paid for my school and been ever so kind to me. Dr. Simpson is offering me a job with a friend, learning about the law, and will still help me go to school. That might mean Jenny and I could be together. I don’t know what to do. I must decide, and soon.”
Robert paused, brow furrowed. He shifted forward, then back, uncomfortably. “I’ve been thinkin’ and prayin’ on just that, Will. It troubles me. It isn’t just fancy drills with some guys on a field anymore—we’re training for war. Will, I really think you should quit the Rifles. Not because of Jenny—young girls can be fickle—you don’t know that you two would end up together. You do know the Rifles will not follow the Union, if it comes to war. Dr. Simpson is making you a fair offer. I based my encouragement to enter the Rifles on opportunity, the chance to live your dreams. I never had much of a head for books, or the chance to be anything but a farmer. I wanted something different for you. Things have changed. No one could predict things would get this bad. You’re young. When you joined the Rifles, you weren’t yet a man. The Bible says not to make rash promises. It’s time to be a man and make a man’s decision, looking to God. I trust He will guide you. But I don’t want to face you across a battlefield. And I’m afraid that’s where this is headed.”
Will grew angry. He threw up his hands, stood, and glared at his father. “But haven’t you taught me to obey? Haven’t you taught me the importance of a man’s word? About following God no matter what? And now, because it’s inconvenient, and something better is offered, I’m supposed to say I didn’t mean it?” he shouted.
“It’s dangerous to promise something to God too quickly. After you’ve thought about it, it may be too late. Is your honor worth getting killed over? Is it worth fighting your neighbors? Your friends? Your family? Proverbs 6 says if you’re snared by your mouth, ask your neighbor to free you. You could go to Morgan.” Robert’s voice held a pleading note. Will knew he didn’t have to depend on his father for a living, not with two sponsors vying for him.
Will paced the room. “And how would that repay him? Would you not pay a debt?”
Will got his coat and walked out into the darkness. He needed the chill to distill his thoughts. Was his father right? Was it that simple—ask and walk free? Yet did he want to be free of the Rifles? And what about honor—keeping your word. The Bible had things to say about not keeping oaths, too. He prayed. He wrestled and thought. Finally, he decided.
✳ ✳ ✳
Albinia was exhausted. It was exciting helping slaves to freedom. However, late nights, the need to keep up at the dress shop, and the stress of maintaining secrecy were taking their toll. Tonight she again stayed in town. She wondered how long she could keep her family from finding out what she was doing. She knew Will was already suspicious. Katy, who provided her a bed, had gotten curious too, so that some nights she simply slept a few hours on a cot at the back of the dress shop. She let her friend think she had gone home, and her family think she had stayed with her friend in town. Her conscience pricked as she deceived people, but it was for a good cause.
She locked the front of the shop. The owner liked to come in midmorning, so she needed not worry about that. In the rear of the shop, she cleared off an old trunk and opened the lid. Inside were costumes. She selected a patched and worn housedress, to look like a poor farm wife. She changed quickly, putting her own clothes in the trunk. Then she donned a black wig, pinning it carefully, and did her makeup to look a decade older, as David taught her. She was nearly unrecognizable. Last of all, she took a double derringer from a drawer and checked to see that it was loaded. Satisfied, she dropped it in her reticule. Making the wedding gown got her eight dollars to buy the gun. She never expected to use it, but David encouraged it.
She exited the store by the back way. Walking out to the alley, a bearded unkempt man in a battered hat accosted her. She informed him she was not that type of woman and moved quickly away, meeting David at a saloon. According to plan, she walked in and approached a table where David, in his Irishman costume, was playing cards and drinking.
He looked up and saw Albinia. “Ah, there ye are, mah darling! I can see me luck is changing,” said David.
“Please, come home, David!” she said pleadingly.
Pushing away from the table, he said, “Gentlemen, I fold. I can see there are other ways to win tonight.” He put an arm around Albinia and gently propelled her back to the street. Once there, he took her hand and led her around back to a wagon. There were two draft horses hitched to the wagon. A padlocked wooden box sat in the rear, large enough to hold two men. He helped her into the wagon, mounted, and began to drive.
“Where to this night?” she asked.
“A rather long trek, I’m afraid. A farm on Harrodsburg Road out almost to Centerville. We may not be back in town before dawn. And much more risk of patrols. Our story is that I’m getting pumpkins, delivering you and them to my cousin. His wife is having a baby, and you’re going to help her.”
“All right. How many people?”
“Just one tonight, I’m told. I apologize for the familiarity back there, it just seemed necessary to avoid suspicion.”
“You don’t have to apologize. I don’t mind.”
“You don’t?”
“No. I enjoy our excursions, and spending time with you, besides helping the slaves.”
“I do too. I was hoping you might feel that way, but did not want to assume. I ... I have some bad news. I must go away soon. I’ve been offered an opportunity to help Mr. Garrison up north. Mr. Clay is releasing me. When I go, you would be on your own. I understand if you would rather not. A woman alone at night with the patrols would be too dangerous. You would have to find a way to do it in the daytime. With your job at the shop, I do not know how you would manage. Mabel and Franklin may be able to help, but….”
Albinia bit her lip, missing him already, but still determined to help. “No! I can manage. I will just sew and sleep at night, go home more. It would actually relieve some pressure. I think my siblings are getting suspicious. I told Will I have a secret beau.”
“And do you?” He seemed to stop, as if he wanted to take her hand. She could tell there was more than casual interest in the question. His eyes held hers intensely.
“Well, sort of. I mean, we’ve spent a lot of time alone together, more than usual for a couple not formally courting.” There, she had said it. She was frightened of what he might think, yet she longed to hear that he felt the same.
“Given what you’ve told me of your father, I hardly think he would approve.”
Albinia laughed, breaking the tension. “You are absolutely right there.”
He held the reins one handed, and reached for her hand.
“I’ve never met a woman like you. Sometimes I cannot decide if you are reckless or brave. I admire you all the same.”
Her heart thrilled to his touch, and she felt the heat in her face. Changing the subject, she said, “How ... how long will you be gone?”
He snapped the reins to move the horses faster. “I honestly don’t know. Mr. Garrison is much under attack here, and in the North. He is speaking in many cities. If war breaks out, I could be stuck there, to be candid.”
“Oh,” she said, greatly disappointed, withdrawing her hand. “Then I suppose there’s no point….”
“Don’t say that! Let me ask you this—if I were to send you a train ticket, would you come?”
“You mean…?”
“Yes, exactly. If I’m not able to come back, I want you to know—I want to marry you. I’ve tried to be proper, but, well—the situation just doesn’t follow the usual rules.”
She grabbed his arm and put her head on his shoulder. “Oh, yes! Yes, David, with all my heart. I hope my father will understand someday, but whether he does or not, I want to be with you.”
They pulled up to a barn. David stopped the horses and turned to Albinia. She looked up at him adoringly. She thought he was going to kiss her. He leaned toward her, their lips almost touching.
She jumped as the lights went on in the house and a dog charged the wagon, barking. David turned and leaped down, waiting tensely to see who was coming. A lantern moved out from the house. Albinia heard a cranky voice saying, “Who in tarnation come visiting this time of night?” A man came toward them with a shotgun in one hand and lantern in the other.
David immediately slipped into his Irish brogue. “Ah, well, an’ it’s just a poor wee Irishman and his lady come to collect midnight pumpkins and squash. Verra delicate, these pumpkins. Don’t like the sun.”
“All right, then,” said the man, lowering the shotgun. “I think you’ll find what you’re looking for in the barn, third stall on the left, under the hay. Knock on the stall three times if you don’t want a pumpkin to fall on your head.”
David and Albinia opened the barn. David drove the team and wagon inside, shutting the door. He went and knocked on the stall, then lit a lamp. Out came the “pumpkins”—a Negro man about forty years of age, with some grizzled gray hair, and a Negro woman, with light yellow brown skin, almost white, about thirty years old.
David climbed up into the wagon and unlocked the padlock on the box, opening it. “Come,” he said. “I’m afraid you’ll both have to squeeze in.”
Albinia saw the man flash a smile, but the woman looked more doubtful. She moved toward her. “Don’t worry,” said Albinia. “It will be all right. We’ve done this before.”
The man chuckled and climbed into the bottom of the box. “Lawd have mercy! We done worse dan dis on de plantation just for not getting’ Massa his supper fast enough. We be fine.”
The woman gingerly climbed in after him. Albinia heard her mutter something about escaping being as bad as punishment. When they settled, David relocked the box and quickly loaded pumpkins and squash from the stall into the wagon, some on top of the box. He climbed back into the driver’s seat, motioned Albinia to open the door, and put out the lamp. Once outside, he jumped down and helped Albinia into the wagon, holding her hand, and giving her cheek a quick peck as she got in. She thought it held a promise of more for later.
Soon they were off down the road. The moon was setting, and soon it would be pitch dark, as they intended. She observed that he kept the big Belgians moving at a trot, since the load was light for them, and speed was important. Albinia pulled the blanket and muffler around her as the cold night breeze hit them. She snuggled closer to David as well, who looked at her with a quick smile. She noticed he did not head on a route directly through Lexington, but circled west some to avoid the center of town. If they kept this pace, they would make it back to Lexington before dawn. When they were north of town on the road toward Russell Cave, they heard hoofbeats off to the right and then ahead, just as they crossed a bridge.
“A patrol,” David said tensely. “Remember, on this side of town, we’re delivering pumpkins and squash. I’ll be a drunk farmer. But be ready for anything.”
Six horsemen came out of the night, one bearing a torch. They spread across the road in front of the wagon.
“What are you two doing? Early for market, isn’t it?” asked the lead horseman roughly. The torch showed a black scruffy beard and long coat, a pistol glinting in the light on his belt.
“Aye, if to market we were going. I’ve a cousin up Centerville way. He’s in need of our pumpkins and squash. His wife is delivering a bairn, and needs the midwife, if it’s any business of yours,” said David in his Irish brogue.
“When we’re on patrol, everything is our business,” laughed one nastily. He dismounted, handing the reins to a companion, and moved toward the wagon. David and Albinia turned to watch him. He lowered the gate on the back of the wagon and started to climb in.
“And what might ye be doin’?” David inquired. “We’re not taking passengers.”
“That’s what I’d like to make sure of. Seems you’re carrying more than squash back here. What’s in the box?”
“Just a few family heirlooms I’m takin’ to my cousin. Now if ye’ll get out of me wagon, I’ll be on me way!”
“I think we’ll have a look inside the box, if you don’t mind,” said the one with the torch.
“By all the saints, I do mind! Ye ruffians and scoundrels! For all I know, ye’re a pack o’ thieves, out to steal me grandsire’s silver. Now get down, I say!”
“Ruffians and thieves are we, eh?” said the one in the wagon. “If you take that tone, maybe we’ll just have a little fun with the woman here.” He reached for Albinia.
Flashing in the torchlight, David pulled a Bowie knife and slashed at the hand reaching for her. She was terrified and fumbled for the derringer. The man howled in pain from a gash across his palm. Another leaped down and grabbed the lines to the Belgians. Albinia saw David try to urge the horses forward, but the torch waved in front of them terrified them. A man approached from David’s side to drag him off the driver’s box, but David reached under the box and brought out a Navy Colt, firing and hitting the man in the shoulder. Albinia harnessed her fear and determinedly took aim at the one with the torch. Her shot hit his leg, then the horse. The horse spun in terror, and the torch dropped, making the other horses rear and spin. Another man reached from the side for Albinia, swinging a fist at her. She heard a shot, and something hit the side of her head. She knew nothing more.
✳ ✳ ✳
When Albinia woke, she felt a dull throb on the side of her head. She felt disoriented, not knowing where she was. Slowly, she focused. David’s anxious face was above her. She was lying on her cot, in the rear of the dress shop. She tried to sit up, but David gently pressed her shoulder down.
“Don’t try too much yet. You’ve had a nasty bump on the head. I’ll tell Dr. Simpson you slipped and fell on the ice. I’ve let your shop owner know. When you’re up to it, Dr. Simpson will take you home. I must go soon, to avoid suspicion.”
“Did they…?”
“Our passengers are fine. Thanks to you. Your quick thinking and using the derringer made possible our escape. But this points out why you must never try this at night on your own. Once I leave to go north, you must only work in daytime, and only when it’s really safe. Mabel and Franklin can help some, but they are far south enough that making all the deliveries may not work.”
“No! I can do it. I want to do it.”
“There’s my brave girl!” David bent and kissed her forehead, and she winced. “Oh, sorry. Didn’t mean to hurt you.”
She managed a smile, “No, it’s all right. And I’ll be fine. Go ahead, go, before someone comes in. I’ll just rest a little, then get up and take customers until Dr. Simpson comes. And David ... I love you!”
✳ ✳ ✳
Will sat down to write. His heart was heavy. He had waited so long to respond to Dr. Simpson’s offer, he felt they might be insulted. He’d barely spoken to Jenny for almost two weeks, and she had not approached him. Christmas was only two weeks away.
December 11, 1859
Dear Miss Morton,
He crumpled the paper and began again—Jenny wasn’t concerned about being proper with him, and it didn’t convey what he felt.
Dear Jenny,
I have been meaning to talk to you for some time now. I hope you will not think me a coward for writing rather than speaking to you in person. My intent is for both of us to think carefully before speaking things that cannot be unsaid.
I have considered carefully your uncle’s generous offer, and I will speak to him directly today at church. As much as I admire your uncle, and am thankful he would even consider sponsoring me in such a manner, I cannot accept. This has been a difficult decision for me. I know in my soul that this must be the decision. I cannot go back on my word to Captain Morgan. If I were to do that, I would not be the man to whom you have generously given your affections. I think that if I am not honest, for the sake of gain, then I am not a man at all.
Please do not assume from this that I have no feelings for you. I am deeply touched by your affection and hope to yet advance in your regard. Whatever happens, please know how much I care for you, and pray for you. If God permits, someday I hope to properly court you, as you deserve, if your uncle will still permit it.
I hope you will do me the honor of accompanying me to Captain Morgan’s Christmas party at the Mill Street house across from his mother’s, Friday December 23, at six o’clock in the evening. Please feel free to bring your aunt and uncle as an escort. If you will come, please meet me after school this Tuesday at the park in front of Morrison. I will count the hours until then.
Yours affectionately,
Will
He read it over three times, deciding it struck the right tone. He was not officially courting Jenny, did not have permission to do so. Technically he should not use her first name, but he knew Jenny would care little for that. He wanted her to know that he did have feelings for her, yet he did not wish to make a promise for love and marriage that neither of them might be able to keep. He wanted to soften the blow of refusing her uncle’s proposal, yet be clear that he could not compromise, even for her. Breaking his oath wouldn’t let him sleep at night—he’d feel ashamed and compromised in everything he did. He folded the letter and sealed it with some candle wax.
✳ ✳ ✳
Will hurried to finish his calculus exam, his mind distracted from integrals by his meeting with Jenny. Would she be there? Or would her uncle prevent her? Will spoke to Dr. Simpson as promised and he politely but stiffly received the refusal. Will was unclear what his attitude might be regarding further contact with Jenny, but he hoped that Jenny’s impetuous determined nature would persuade her uncle to let them continue meeting. After all, Dr. Simpson knew it was a point of honor.
Will finished the last problem and handed the paper to the professor, hurrying down the steps of Morrison to the park. Soldiers in unfamiliar uniforms drilled in the same area the Rifles used. Getting closer and crossing the street, both his father and Joe Breckinridge were among the soldiers. Will felt uneasy in the pit of his stomach. What if war actually came?
He waited anxiously at the edge of the park, scanning the streets and the park itself for any sign of Jenny. Her school should have let out half an hour ago. He stamped his feet and moved about to ward off the cold. His mind filled with foreboding, yet inventing a hundred excuses for why she might not come, but still care for him.
After what he judged to be another long half an hour, a doctor’s buggy with a familiar horse approached. As it stopped at the edge of the park, Will saw Jenny and her aunt, driven by a servant. The servant helped first her aunt, then Jenny down, and attended the horses. Jenny did not wait for her aunt but rushed over to Will.
“Will! I knew you’d wait!”
“You got my letter? You’re not angry?”
“Yes, I got it. I am of course disappointed, but I understand. At least sort of.”
Her aunt came over at a more sedate pace.
“I’m not so sure Uncle Tim does, though,” Jenny continued.
“Yes, I’m afraid he can be stubborn, especially where Jenny is concerned,” said her aunt. “But he’ll likely come around. In the meantime, we wanted you to know that Jenny and I will accept your invitation to the Christmas party. I’m afraid my husband will not attend. He doesn’t want his patients thinking that he supports Mr. Morgan.”
“I’m sorry he feels that way,” said Will. “But I am delighted that you will come.” Embarrassed, he flushed and said, “I’m afraid I can’t offer to pick you up except in our farm wagon.”
Jenny’s eyes danced in amusement at his discomfort.
“Don’t worry, Will. We’ll meet you at the party,” said Jenny. Her aunt politely withdrew back to the buggy, leaving Jenny and Will a small amount of privacy, yet she was still close by.
Jenny faced Will, with her back to her aunt. He seized the moment to take both her hands in his. “Jenny, I hope you know how much I care for you. I’ve thought of you night and day the past few weeks. Being with you, well, I feel like I’m skipping on the clouds. But I know that there’s this business with slavery, and some say there will be war. I care for you, but I don’t want to promise too much yet. I couldn’t bear to break my word to you. It means more to me than even my promise to Captain Morgan.”
Jenny’s face glowed, then sobered. “I understand, Will. I care a great deal for you too; you know that. I’m afraid I haven’t been very proper, hiding my feelings the way a young woman should. But I don’t know how to not be myself, either. My heart sings when I’m with you. I don’t know how not to show it. I do hope you’ll consider the things my uncle has said. He’s not a man given to hasty conclusions.” Nodding toward the field, she said, “And your father and your friend Joe are on the other side. Please think carefully what you’re doing, Will. For both our sakes.”
He released her hands. “I will, Jenny. Pray for wisdom. But I know God wants us to honor our promises. And I think if you come to the party, you’ll see that Captain Morgan and the fellows in the Rifles aren’t so bad.”
“Until then.” She turned and went back to the buggy, leaving Will hopeful but concerned. How could he overcome her uncle’s opposition?
✳ ✳ ✳
Will nervously drove the buggy to Morgan’s Mill Street house. The horse and buggy were a recent gift from Hiram. He’d explained to Captain Morgan about bringing guests to the party. Morgan smilingly agreed, and even advanced Will enough to buy a new suit for the occasion. Now Will was in his unaccustomed finery, uncomfortable in his starched collar and wondering what Jenny and her mother would think of it all. He took a deep breath and, exhaling, saw the cloud of steam from his breath in the frigid air.
A slave took the reins of the buggy as he dismounted. Will went just inside the fence to wait for Jenny. With Hiram’s gift, he could have changed arrangements and picked them up. He wanted to surprise Jenny with the buggy and his new suit, hoping her aunt would allow them to drive the few blocks back to the Simpsons’ alone after the party.
After about ten minutes, Will saw the Simpson buggy arrive, with a servant driving. Mrs. Simpson and Jenny were in the rear seat. Will stepped forward, brushing the servant aside, to help them. Jenny wore a bright blue gown with a pink rose pattern and lace at the neck. Her pink wrap matched the roses in the dress. She smiled at Will and blushed as he held her hand getting off the carriage. Mrs. Simpson smiled politely, but her pursed lips and wrinkled forehead held a slight indication of disapproval. Will could not tell if it was directed at him or Jenny. The servant looked at him haughtily, as though annoyed at having to be lumped with the slaves as he tended to the horses.
“Good evening, Mrs. Simpson and Miss Morton,” said Will formally. “I’m delighted that you could come.” He bowed, and Jenny seemed to suppress a giggle. They each gave a slight curtsey, and accepted his arms to usher them into the house.
Captain Morgan himself greeted them at the door, all charm. “Good evening, Will! And who are these beautiful ladies?”
“May I present Mrs. Simpson and Miss Jenny Morton? Mrs. Simpson is the wife of Dr. Tim Simpson, with whom I believe you are acquainted. The doctor was otherwise engaged this evening.”
“I understand. My wife is indisposed at present. Welcome! I hope you enjoy the evening. Christmas is always an occasion to rejoice. Sid!” he motioned to a light-skinned Negro slave. “Take their coats, and show them to the parlor where they can get warm. Until later, ladies?” Morgan tipped his hat and turned to the next arriving guests.
As they walked to the parlor in Sid’s wake, Mrs. Simpson whispered, “That was uncommonly courteous of him. Not at all like the reports I’ve heard.”
They joined the group around the fireplace, near the Christmas tree with candles lit. Will recognized James West, Tom Longwood, Archie Moodie, Ben Drake, and Jessie Davis, as well as others of his company. There was a round of introductions of the men and their ladies. One new man in particular caught Will’s attention. Basil Duke was a handsome young man twenty-one years of age. He was talking and laughing with Captain Morgan’s sister, Henrietta. He seemed to have an easy way with all the Rifles, joking and bantering. Will heard a rumor that he and Henrietta might become engaged.
Then someone proposed a Christmas song, and they all sang the new, “Hark, the Herald Angels Sing.” The mood was cheerful, and even Ben Drake came over to shake Will’s hand and meet Mrs. Simpson. Jenny gave Ben a polite but icy greeting, by Will’s estimation. Someone struck up a chorus of another new song, “Dixie,” enthusiastically sung by all of the Rifles. Mrs. Simpson and Jenny, unfamiliar with the song, stood quiet and slightly embarrassed at the unabashed Southern sentiment. Just then, Sid announced dinner. The fare was sumptuous, including turkey, oysters, sangaree, marmalade ice cream, baked beans, and potatoes. Much of the dinner conversation centered on the execution of John Brown in Virginia and his attempted slave rebellion. As the slaves served dessert, Captain Morgan opined, “John Brown got only what he deserved. He was a rabble-rouser in Kansas, with many deaths to his credit. It is God’s mercy that he didn’t get his hands on the Federal arsenal at Harper’s Ferry. Indeed, he should have known that the slaves would not join him. Why should they? Their masters feed and care for them. They have few worries and concerns. When a man buys a slave, it is a covenant to care for him. How else should they survive, not having the wit and industry of the white race?”
Mrs. Simpson fidgeted and then spoke, “But what entitles one man to buy another at all? What of Abraham Lincoln’s speech, where he said, ‘I think slavery is wrong, morally and politically. I desire that it should be no further spread in these United States, and I should not object if it should gradually terminate in the whole Union.’”
There was a stressed silence around the table for a moment, and then Morgan said, “Perhaps the rail splitter wants to take up the labor of the slaves and provide their upkeep as well. I can just see him bending to pick cotton and harvest hemp. Actually, I’ve seen pictures where he’d make a great scarecrow!” This received general laughter around the table, and Mrs. Simpson said no more.
“And now, why don’t we retire back to the parlor? There are some musicians who will help us to dance the remainder of the night away,” said Morgan.
Couples paired off, and a waltz began. The evening passed in a whirl. Will danced several times with Jenny, and just enough with other girls to be polite. Mrs. Simpson sat in a corner and drank punch, nonalcoholic. She declined all invitations to dance, even Captain Morgan’s gallant attempt. When at last couples began to leave, Will approached her with his proposal that he and Jenny be allowed to drive back to the Simpson’s alone, with her buggy following.
“It’s not quite proper. I doubt Dr. Simpson would approve.”
Just then Jenny came over, and hearing Will’s proposal, she added, “Auntie, please? It’s Christmas. You’ll be right behind us. It’s only ten minutes to home and Will is driving, not a servant.”
Seeing Jenny’s pleading gaze, she relented. “Well, all right. No detours. Straight home.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Simpson. Believe me, you have nothing to worry about,” said Will.
They went out into the cold, and a slave brought Will’s horse and buggy. Will helped Jenny into the seat, then mounted the driver’s box, released the brake, and chirruped to the horse. He did not hurry, taking it at a slow walk. He smiled when Jenny slid over close by him.
“Will? I don’t understand Captain Morgan. He seems every inch a gentleman. I know he’s been generous and nice to you, kind of like Uncle Tim with me. Nevertheless, he owns the slaves. He seems to treat them all right, I guess, but kind of like young children, even the adults. And that Sid—did you see how light colored he was, and how much he looked like Captain Morgan? Your Captain Morgan is a confusing man. There’s a lot to admire, and yet….”
“Jenny, you just don’t know him. You should see the way he treats everyone in the Rifles. Like family. Everyone knows, if they have a problem, just go see Captain Morgan.”
“Maybe so. But something about him just doesn’t add up. I’m afraid, Will. I may be only fifteen, but I just sense something about him. For sure, he doesn’t think much of the Negroes.”
“But Jenny, he cares for all his Negroes. He takes care of them, just like he said.”
“Owning slaves is evil! Oh, Will! I care so much for you! I don’t want to see you swept away in a senseless war. Please! For me ... just think again about leaving the Rifles. Then at least if war comes, you’ll have a choice.”
“I have a choice, now. I’ve made that choice. We’ve been over this. I can’t go back on my word. I can’t let the fellows in the Rifles down. What if the Northerners make an army and invade Kentucky? Shouldn’t I defend my family, my home? Shouldn’t I defend you?”
“All this talk of Northerners and Southerners makes me crazy. Why can’t we all just be Americans and Christians? The Bible says that there is neither Jew nor Greek, there is neither slave nor free, there is neither male nor female: for ye are all one in Christ Jesus. Why can’t we all just be one people? I know you care about God.”
“‘Wherefore putting away lying, speak every man truth with his neighbor: for we are members one of another.‘ If I quit, then everything I’ve done is a lie. Is that what you want for me?”
“No, but…”
“There is no but. It’s one or the other.”
Jenny silently slid away, and they finished the drive in silence. She refused his help down, lifted her skirts, and jumped. A petticoat tore, but she ignored it. She almost just went in the house, but then turned. “At least pray, Will. Promise me you’ll do that. There has to be a way. What if you asked Captain Morgan to relieve you of your promise? Have you thought of that? Anyway, I had something for you.” Jenny reached into her reticule and pulled out a piece of needlework. She handed it to him, bound with a bow.
“I had something for you too.” He handed her a small box, wrapped and bound with yarn. “Open it.”
She opened it and found a silver pin, a Mary Luckenbooth pin from Scotland. “Oh, Will! It’s beautiful. However did you…?”
“Not half as beautiful as you. Think of me when you wear it.”
“I will. And think of me when you pray.”
Her aunt’s buggy drew up and she walked away, into the house.
✳ ✳ ✳
Julia fussed and fumed. She packed and repacked her borrowed steamer trunk three times, trying to decide how to make the most of a meager wardrobe. She was traveling north with Hiram and his mother, to meet the rest of the family. Her father and Hiram met a week or so ago, under the eagle eye of Hiram’s mother, to conclude a marriage contract, according to Swedish custom. The Swedes thought the actual marriage ceremony a formality that came later. They would not yet share a bed, bowing to American custom. Julia was uneasy. She had grown to appreciate Hiram, his gentleness, and humor. His mother was an altogether different matter. Julia did not know what to make of her, and constantly felt that she didn’t measure up to some undefined standard.
Of course, Julia had no dowry, beyond a few blankets and other items Albinia was sewing for her. She could hardly match the economic status that a wealthy Swedish family would enjoy. It mattered little to Hiram. In fact, against custom, he gave her father a handsome Percheron draft horse and buggy. Hiram had been teaching her to drive a horse. He felt it silly for a woman not to know how. It was common in the old country, he said. He had given her a sum as well for clothes, but there was no time to have them made before the trip. They were to leave in three days.
Again she despaired of how to make scarves, stomachers, and accessories interchangeable enough to make her appear to have more than three outfits, which was all she owned. Finally she closed the trunk, latching it, and sat down on the bedstead, almost ready to cry. This was her chance, wasn’t it? Her chance to break away from the humdrum and work of the farm. She could learn to move in society. She wouldn’t have to worry about whether the harvest would be good, or what yokel might try for her hand with her father. This was what she wanted—to marry a rich man. Then why did she feel so unsure? That contract business made her feel like Hiram was buying a prize cow! However, that was ridiculous—she knew he cared for her. She treasured the memory of the evening by the lake. She knew she wasn’t that pretty, like her sister. She still wondered at times about Hiram choosing her. What did he see in her that she didn’t see herself? She wasn’t silly enough to think a girl like her could choose and marry for love. It was a miracle someone wanted her at all. She shook her head, just as Pa called from the outer room, to see if she was ready yet. She pulled on a bonnet and set her jaw. This was her chance! She resolved to make it work and be the best wife to Hiram that she could.
“Ready, Pa!” she called, making her voice firm. She pushed aside the blanket divider to indicate her father was welcome to enter. He came in and stopped, just looking at her a moment.
“Well, look at you! Pretty as can be! I declare, Julia, I can’t believe you’re goin’ off to be married. Seems to me you were only born yesterday. And here you are, lookin’ like a fine lady!”
“Oh, Pa! Don’t tease me! I can’t bear it. You know it’s not true.”
Robert looked surprised, then amused. “You don’t give yourself enough credit, Jule. You should take a better look in one of those mirrors the Johannsens likely have. And see yourself on the inside the way God sees you. You’d be surprised!”
He went over and picked up her trunk, taking it out to the buggy.
Sara, Lydia, Will, and Albinia crowded around, giving hugs and offering congratulations.
“Well, milady, if you’re ready, your carriage awaits. Promise you’ll write to us. And if you get bored with the ladies’ teas and charity events, come see an old farmer sometime.”
“I will, Pa. We will come back to visit when we can.”
She and Robert went outside, and he loaded her trunk into the new buggy. The horse was hitched, standing and waiting. Robert began to climb into the driver’s seat, when Julia said, “Oh, please, Pa! May I drive? Hiram’s been teaching me. I suppose his mother will have servants to do it, and I may not get another chance soon.”
Robert chuckled and scratched his head. “All right, if it makes your heart happy. One last drive with my little girl.” He helped her up into the seat and handed her the reins before climbing in on the other side. She released the brake, clucked to the dappled gray horse, slapped the reins, and took off at a smart trot. Her father smiled approvingly. “Looks like you had a good teacher!”
On the way to town they talked and laughed, reminiscing about silly family things from years past. Julia began to realize how much she was going to miss the old farm, her family, even her gossipy church friends. She was going to an unknown place, to live with strangers. She didn’t know how to play this game. She had no training. No one had told her the rules. She was leaving everything familiar behind. Once the ceremony took place, there would be no turning back. Oh, dear God, help! she thought.
They arrived at the train station. She was to meet Hiram. They would take the train to the Ohio River, then one of his family’s steamboats to Cincinnati. Her father helped her out of the buggy, and a slave porter took her trunk when her father reached for it. Robert shrugged and let him. They saw Hiram waiting on the platform and waved. Turning to each other, Julia broke and wept. “Oh, Pa! I don’t know how to leave you.” She clung to him, hugging him as she had not since she was a little girl. He held her until she stopped crying, as he used to. He offered her his worn handkerchief, telling her to keep it. Then they turned and mounted the platform, going to Hiram.
“You take good care of her, Mr. Johannsen. I’m giving you a jewel.”
“Ja, I will, Mr. Crump. I will take very good care of her. We hope you may come to Cincinnati sometime, and see.”
“Well, this old farmer doesn’t travel much. But if I can, I will.”
They shook hands, and Julia watched her father turn and walk away. His shoulders slumped, as if from sadness, and he seemed somehow more frail and diminished than the man she had always admired. She turned to Hiram, smiling determinedly. He took her hand, and they boarded the train. She had never ridden on one, and within minutes, the fields were whizzing by at unbelievable speed. Each clack of the wheels was carrying her farther into the unknown. Farther away from home the train car sped, as the whistle blew mournfully.
✳ ✳ ✳
Luther stretched and yawned. At times, it seemed he was still dreaming. He and his family were in Ripley, Ohio, sleeping in beds like white folk, in the house of one John Parker, a free black. He knew they were not altogether safe here, but free! On free soil! The coffins found their way to Reverend Elijah Green, a free black minister and former slave. He hid them, and switched real corpses in for inspection, then switched again before they crossed the river, driving over in a hearse in broad daylight. The Parkers were kindness itself. Today John was taking him and the women a little further north. There was a community of free blacks where they could find work and a place to live. Though somewhat dangerous due to slave catchers, they could choose to stay or move further north still. Unaccustomed to such choices, Luther did not yet know what to do. All he knew was he, Jemima, Olivia and Clara were free! They had full bellies, and soft beds. No one was cracking whips at them, or forcing them into the fields before dawn. He did not have to stand for hours waiting on Lucy’s whim. True, he and Jemima would have to find jobs, maybe Olivia too. As for Clara—his sister could enjoy being a child. Maybe they could even attend school, learn to read. Mr. Parker said there was a place called Oberlin, up north, where black people could go to school too.
He shook Olivia and Clara gently to wake them. He heard a knock on the door and found Mrs. Parker had brought them tea and a light breakfast. They were still in hiding in the Parker house, but today ... today would be their first steps outside the protection of those who had helped them north. Jemima opened her eyes and smiled. It warmed him to see his mama happy. She rose and dressed quickly. They all gathered around a small table with real chairs.
“Lawd, we thank you for dis day! Dis day of freedom we thought would never come! Thank you Lawd also for dis food. Bless de Parkers, and protect them. Protect all those that helped us, even those we got no idea who they were. And Lawd, wherever she is, bless Miss Albinia! Amen!” prayed Jemima.
“Amen!” said the children. The meal was quickly consumed, and another rapping at the door was heard. Jemima opened it and, to her amazement, the little Parker children, Hortense and Horatio, came in, each carrying a dress and shoes, and a new pair of trousers and shirt for Luther. Self-consciously, the oldest said, “Mama says to give you these things, to celebrate freedom. Just like God gives us gifts when He sets us free.”
“I ... I don’ know what to say! Thank you, girls, and thank your mother! Glory be, we gone to hebbin!” said Jemima. The girls squealed over their new dresses, and Luther changed at once, rolling up his ragged traveling clothes he had worn for many weeks. Then he turned to his sisters.
“Hush, now! We got to get goin’. Won’t do to keep Mr. Parker waitin’.”
They gathered their few possessions and went out to the wagon in the carriage house. Slave catchers sometimes watched the house, so they would have to be smuggled out under bales of hay. The wagon had high sides, and a compartment in the bottom where they could squeeze in. Then the compartment closed, and several layers of hay bales were placed on top. It was cold, and the hay was scratchy, but they would soon be free! John warned them not to sign or make a mark on anything someone gave them, without getting him or another trusted person to read it. Some Negroes found themselves enslaved as indentured servants in the North, he said, by crafty people taking advantage of their illiteracy. He made the trip to the community once a week or so. They could always get a message to him. They bumped along the road in the suffocating confines of the compartment, but each clop of a hoof, each turn of a wheel seemed to sing “Freedom!” to Luther’s ears. Just when he thought he was going to freeze solid, the wagon stopped. He heard Mr. Parker get down, then low voices, and the sound of the wagon tailgate lowering. Then there were steps above them as the hay was unloaded. Weeks of traveling in fear left him nervous and uneasy. What if slave catchers stopped us? he thought. Luther tensed and gripped the knife he still had.
Finally, someone lifted the last bale of hay out of the wagon, and the compartment opened. To Luther’s relief, the smiling face of Mr. Parker greeted him, surrounded by a group of ten to fifteen other black smiling faces.
“Welcome to freedom!” one of them said. “I’m Ned Smith, the blacksmith for this town.” He extended his hand, which Luther shook. “I hear you know a thing or two about horses. How about comin’ to work for me? Not much, just room and board, plus two bits a week. Plenty of room for your family until you get your own place. What do you say?”
Luther could hardly believe his ears. “I say bless you! And thank you!”
Jemima burst out, “Lawd a mercy! We thank you from de bottom of our heart! I think we done found de promised lan’!”
They followed Ned to their accommodations at the back of the stable, really just a couple of empty stalls. There were straw ticks for beds, a rude table, and stumps for stools. He showed them the privy, and told them to come to the cabin next door for supper at sunset. Luther noticed the rest of the men disappeared. When they came to supper, Luther saw that Ned had a wife and three children.
“This is my wife, Katy. My children are Ruth, Mark, and Ben. And there,” he said indicating a tall older boy,” is Sam. He’ll be working with you. He comes from the Nawth, up New York way.”
Luther immediately noticed a hostile glare from Sam, who looked to be about nineteen, a lean muscled mulatto. He also noticed Ruth, about his age, slim, pretty, and shyly smiling at him. Mark looked to be about ten, and little Ben about eight. Their meal was simple and quickly concluded. Ned suggested they retire early, to be ready for work in the morning. As Luther lay in the stall, breathing the air of freedom, he wondered where their road would take them.
✳ ✳ ✳
Julia felt tired and excited all at once. She experienced so many new things. First, she rode on the train. Then she had her own hotel room in Maysville. She never stayed in a hotel in her life. Now some shopping, and then boarding an actual steamboat to Cincinnati. Everywhere there were new sights, unfamiliar places, and people. Hiram never seemed to falter. He was at home in this world. On the street they met people who knew him, treated him with deference and respect. She began to see him through new eyes yet again. She felt the wonder of a child who emerges from a cabin to her first snow, with everything utterly changed. She watched as Hiram shepherded their steamer trunks on board the ship. The captain deferentially bowed, and a crewman showed each to their staterooms, the best on the ship. She felt constantly as though she were in a play where she did not know the lines. Servants popped up everywhere, asking her wants and opinions. It made her head spin. She tried her best to mask her feelings of excitement and inadequacy. Going from country farm girl to wife of a wealthy steamboat owner in such a short time, she struggled to absorb it all.
As the boat cast off and began its journey on the river, she sat in a chaise lounge looking out the window as the beauty of the river went by. Hiram came in smiling.
“Are you comfortable, Julia? Is there anything you would like? Lunch will be served in an hour. But if you’re hungry before then, I can have the steward bring something.”
“No, no, Hiram. Everything is perfect. I … I’m just in a whirl. I had no idea you lived like this.”
“This? Oh, it is nothing. Just a few comforts. Sometimes, with the stress of running the business, I wish I could just be a simple farmer like your father.”
“And Pa would trade places with you in a moment, if he could. Farming is a hard life.”
Hiram looked unusually serious for a moment. “All life is hard; money doesn’t change that. It is up to us to choose joy and make the most of each situation. Once a person has the basic needs, the rest is just a matter of comfort. I know friends who have plantations and wealth—yet they are miserable.” Brightening, he said, “But you need not worry about it. My only thought is to make you happy. There will be plenty of time after we are married to decide how you want to spend your time.”
“I hadn’t thought ... I’m so used to working on the farm.”
“Mama will help you. She knows important people in Cincinnati, Louisville, and Lexington, all along the river, even in St. Louis. You can be a great help to me in the business by the connections you make with other wives at teas, balls, and charity events.” He took a little silver bell from his pocket and set it on the table next to her. “I have some cargo orders to attend to. A shipment of slaves, I think. If you need anything, just ring the bell. Morris, the steward, will get whatever you need.” He gave her forehead a quick kiss, then left the room.
The hour passed quickly. Julia alternately looked out the window and read a book. She had to admit, getting used to this life of ease wasn’t too difficult. No pigs or chickens to feed, no butter to churn, and she didn’t have to dig in the dirt for the garden. She supposed servants would also do laundry, mending, and cooking.
“Luncheon is served in the dining room,” Morris informed her, and escorted her to her place. Every possible delicacy was present. It would have been delightful, but for Kirsten Johannsen sitting across from her, criticizing her every move. Julia supposed she meant to be helpful. In truth, she had no idea which fork or spoon to use for the different dishes. She had no idea lunch could be such a complicated affair. A woman screaming interrupted their peace and the chamber music. Julia was startled.
“That’s no concern of ours,” Kirsten said. “Just eat your lunch.”
Ignoring her, Julia dropped her fork, pushed back from the table, and rushed through a doorway out onto the upper deck. On the main deck, a crowd of Negroes was gathered, in chains. In the center, tied to a post with her arms above her head, a woman stood naked to the waist. A large man stood a few feet away, cat ‘o nine tails in his hand. As Julia watched, he laid on the vicious whip, provoking another loud scream of pain. Blood pooled at her feet. A few white men in waistcoats looked on, seemingly unconcerned. A small Negro girl rushed out and grabbed the legs of the man with the whip. Julia was too far away to hear, but from her face, it seemed obvious she was begging for mercy for her mother. The man shoved the little girl roughly away, threatening her with the whip. Julia turned away, sickened by the sight. She strode resolutely back into the dining room.
“Where’s Mr. Johannsen?” she demanded.
“My dear,” said Kirsten. “Calm yourself. You mustn’t make a scene. Have a glass of claret, steady your nerves.”
“I want to see Hiram!” Julia insisted. “I want him to make it stop!”
Kirsten quietly wiped her mouth with a white linen napkin. “He’ll do no such thing, even if you find him. I expect it will stop on its own, soon enough. The point is to teach the slaves a lesson and prevent further trouble. I’m sure the owner doesn’t want to damage her so much she can’t be sold. That’s why the other slaves must watch. You, however, have no place in such matters. It is not becoming to a lady to notice. The slaves belong to our customers. We may dislike how they are treated, but it is not our business. You’ll grow used to it, in time, if you take many of these voyages.”
Julia responded, “If I grow used to such displays of cruelty, then I am poor indeed. If you will excuse me….” She turned and left the room, lunch unfinished.
✳ ✳ ✳
Will found a new job working as a hemp dresser in one of Morgan’s factories. The nighttime hours spent separating the hemp fibers allowed him to work on the farm, keep up his studies, and drill with the Rifles. He advanced his riding skills now that his family had a horse, and spent less time walking. The weeks passed so quickly, he thought of little except the next task. He and Jenny met mostly at church, and he avoided the subject of the Rifles. In early February, he thought of Valentine’s Day approaching. There would be a box social at church on Valentine’s evening to benefit the town orphanage. Will focused on the idea of buying Jenny’s box lunch and having time with her. Her uncle made sure there were no more buggy rides as long as Will was in the Rifles.
Will and Joe didn’t meet much. Albinia seemed to blush when Joe’s name came up. She told her father about Joe as a beau as promised, and she was home at night more often. Will decided she was just being silly about having a beau.
Valentine’s Day came, and Will dressed his best after grooming and washing the Percheron and cleaning out the buggy. He heated bricks for their feet on the drive to town. He was hopeful that Dr. Simpson might relent and let Jenny ride with him. His parents also dressed in their best. Even Lydia shone, decked out in a new dress Albinia had found time to sew. Albinia said she had too much work for such an outing.
“Mrs. Crump, don’t you dare let anyone bid on your box. I saw you pack my favorites in there, and I declare no one else is to have them.”
“Then you just best have the highest bid, Mr. Crump,” teased Sara. “This is for the orphanage, and it goes to the highest bidder. Along with my company for the evening, of course.”
Robert turned to Will, scratching his head. “Will, how’d you hornswoggle me into this, anyhow? I got to pay for my own wife’s dinner and company? Highway robbery!”
Sara just laughed. “It’ll do you good not to take me for granted for a change, Mr. Crump.”
Lydia piped up, “I’ll sit with you, Pa.”
Both parents laughed and Robert scooped her up into the buggy.
Will drove, and his parents continued to banter back and forth on the drive. He had not seen them in such good spirits in a long time.
Once in the church, Will absently greeted a few of the other young people, scanning the crowd for Jenny. He spotted her near the front of the hall, chattering animatedly with some other girls. He recognized some in the group from his old school. They would be sixteen now, and no longer attending school, getting down to the serious business of husband hunting. A few titters broke out as he approached. It was widely known that he and Jenny were together, though not officially courting due to her uncle’s disapproval.
Jenny broke off from the group and came over toward him. She wore the same gown as at the Christmas party, which made his chest ache strangely. In public, she was formal. “Mr. Crump! How nice to see you! You’ve been rather scarce, again.”
Will responded in kind. “Yes, I’m sorry. Miss Morton, I wished to speak with you. I ... I wanted you to know I’ll be bidding tonight. I got a new job, and….”
“Yes, I heard,” she interrupted crisply. “With Captain Morgan, I understand. And still drilling with the Rifles.”
“Yes, but I….”
“No need to explain. I think it’s clear what your decision is. Certainly, in recent weeks you’ve allocated more time to the Rifles than to me. My uncle has also been clear,” she said, removing the pin he’d given her and handing it to him. “If you feel you must bid, then you must. After all, it is a good cause. I wish I could say the same of your Rifles. Mr. Lincoln is correct, I believe—a house divided cannot stand. The country will become all slave or all free. I’m just a woman, but I cannot cast my lot with those who support the institution. My uncle has joined the Home Guard as a physician. At any rate, do not bid on my account. You will only waste Mr. Morgan’s money.” She turned and walked back to her group of friends, leaving him crestfallen and surprised.
Will walked to a table where his parents sat. Sara looked at him and excused herself.
“Will, what’s wrong? You look like someone just hit you!”
“I think she did, Ma. Jenny just gave this back.” He opened his hand to show her the pin. “She doesn’t want me to buy her box. She says drilling with the Rifles and working for Captain Morgan makes me stand for slavery, and neither she nor her uncle will have it.”
Sara looked at him compassionately. “Oh, Will! I’m so sorry. I know she means so much to you. You have to make your own decisions, just like your Pa said. But think, Will! Think! Isn’t there some truth in what she says? There’s still time. Go to Dr. Simpson. Talk with him. I believe even yet he would relent.”
Will became stubborn. “No. I know you’re trying to help, Ma. You know I don’t stand for slavery. Why, even this Abraham Lincoln said just a while that he is not for equality of the white and black races, that he favors white superiority. Most folks, North and South, think that way. Even an Irishman thinks he’s better than a Negro, not to mention an Indian. I am neither for slavery nor against it. It simply has nothing to do with me. Why will no one understand that? All I want is a peaceful life, to study law, and raise a family. Is that so wrong?”
“No, Will, it isn’t,” said Sara gently. “But in these times, people will assign you a side if you don’t choose one. There is guilt by association. The Bible says bad company corrupts good morals. People assume your views are the same as Morgan’s, because you are in the Rifles. Are your convictions worth losing Jenny? She loves you, Will. Your sister’s husband, Hiram, is right on one thing: the time is coming when you’ll have to take sides. I don’t like your Pa being in the Guard. I don’t like you being in the Rifles. Even worse, I can’t stand the thought that you might face one another on opposite sides of a battlefield. What then, Will? What will your convictions mean then? Think on that.” She turned away and went back to his father.
✳ ✳ ✳
Julia felt lost and overwhelmed. She stood outside the Lutheran church in Cincinnati waiting for the processional for her wedding. The sky threatened rain. Had it not been for Albinia with her, she might have run to find the nearest train. Albinia said her sister was not going to get married with no one from the family present, if she had to spend six months wages to get there. For almost three months, Julia endured the prodding of her mother-in-law. Hiram was sweet and attentive when he was around. So often, he was enmeshed in the business or drilling with the blasted Guard. They did have some fun times. They rode in the sleigh. He took her to plays and the opera. They talked, and he actually listened to her, not treating her as a child.
It was March now. She’d heard the news about Will and Jenny. Why wouldn’t this war leave them alone? It hadn’t even started yet, and already was causing misery. Lincoln’s recent speech at Cooper Union in New York had only deepened stubbornness on both sides. She hadn’t slept last night, not a wink. Tossing and turning, she was afraid and excited about what the next day would bring. Her stomach felt nauseous, but she knew she had to eat the cake and delicacies at the reception. Mama Kirsten had been very specific about what she expected of her. There would be an interpreter present, to give the English translation of the ceremony for her. Everything would be in Latin and Swedish. She felt scatterbrained. How was she supposed to behave like a polished grand dame, when she felt like a frightened little girl? How she wished her own mother could be here! Even without training, her mother always seemed to know what to do, what to say, in any situation. Julia looked over gratefully at Albinia. She was ashamed for having snapped while Albinia helped her dress.
“Any time now,” Albinia whispered, giving her arm a squeeze. Albinia had offered to sew her dress, but Hiram wouldn’t hear of it, ordering from a designer in New York. Julia managed a weak smile.
“Promise you’ll write to me. I … I know I’ve often been a bossy sister, not the best confidant. But I can’t tell you how I’ve missed you these last months. It’s like another world here. Mama Kirsten is always after me, and not the sweet little reminders like our mother. Oh, I’ve learned a lot. So often, though, I wish I were back home watching the chickens or Lydia. Then I see Hiram, and he reminds me that I’ve learned to love him. I really do! But I’m so glad you came!”
“Don’t cry and make your eyes red. It’s almost time. I will write whenever I can. I’ve missed you too, even your bossiness. Come to Lexington when you can.”
They heard the organ playing the processional. The ushers swung the doors open wide. Julia felt Albinia following her, attending to her train. How she wished little Lydia could have been in front, scattering flower petals! Then she looked out through the veil and saw Hiram waiting at the altar, beaming. Suddenly, nothing else mattered.