While the moon sank beyond the square––casting long shadows across the buildings––Al sorted the possibilities of what to do about Ezra and Ella. Should he keep showing up, letting Ezra know he had not stopped caring? Meantime, what would happen to Ella? Her little-girl body would be torn apart. If he hired someone to police the place, chase off potential customers, Malaila Parsons would tell the neighbors that he was after her children; turn Camptown into a riot scene. He had to get back on friendly terms with the neighbors, assure them they were welcome in the store. Convince them that the men showing up at that house were not visiting Malaila. Finally, the increasing jangle of mule teams getting an early start drove Al from the bed.
By the time he went downstairs, Wally and Cora were already in the store. The front door stood wide open, Wally smiling at the passing Negroes. When one or two entered, Cora offered her help.
“I went to the train station and got your mail,” Wally called from the door, his face a picture of warmth. “There’s a letter from Tob by the cash drawer.”
Al ripped open the envelope. “Do you mind sharing it?” Cora moved close.
“He says the school is a challenge. He passed the exam in German even though he’d already satisfied the Latin requirement.”
“Why does he need German?” Cora’s frown wrinkled her face like a stewed prune.
Al lifted his eyes from the page. “Germans are our customers, Cora. Same as the Negroes. Germans are streaming into the county by the hundreds to buy land.” Al returned to the letter. “He has anatomy, physiology, and general chemistry for all this year. It looks like surgery won’t come until the third year.” Al laughed. “He says Harvard went to New Haven and beat Yale in their first football game. He’s asking if his mare is missing him. I’ll let him know Hébert’s riding her every day, grooming her faithfully.”
Al stared at the page and then blew out a long breath. “He can’t make it home for Christmas. They only have a week off. Then, another week off between terms. Classes end on the last Wednesday in June.”
“Christmas without Tob hanging up glass balls and cedar wreaths...” Cora turned away, began refolding a shipment of velveteen capes.
Al read the last paragraph silently. “I met Dr. George Grant, a Negro professor at Harvard’s dental school. He graduated summa cum laude five years ago. He says the only way a colored man can make it is to be well-liked and the smartest of the lot. I aim to be both.”
Al read the words again. What was the boy thinking? Ruining his chances of being a Harvard-trained doctor? He had to remind Toby that before the war, three colored medical students were dismissed. Their classmates had protested. How could he word that in a letter?
“Is something wrong? Is Toby all right?” Cora gripped Al’s arm, her eyes troubled.
Al shook his head. “I was thinking about Toby. He’ll never be a farmer. He’ll be so busy with his medical practice that he won’t have time to work the place.” God, I hope that’s true. Al sighed, looked at the concerned faces. “So, I’ve decided to post a notice at the courthouse that I’m selling six hundred acres of prime land.”
“What will you do with yourself?” Wally’s jowls shook, his eyes bulged. “It’s not in your nature to light for long.”
“I may do a little traveling. Spend more time in New Orleans.” Or search for Amelia. Al grinned at the blinking couple. “I may even sleep until it’s daylight.”
It took two days for Al to update the store’s account books. The drought had caused the list of customers carrying large balances to grow every month. Finally, he posted a sale notice at the courthouse for the land and drove into Camptown. A woman he’d noticed working in her garden every time he’d come down the street, stopped to watch him. He pulled the team to a halt and introduced himself.
She did not offer her name. “I know you. Seen you coming around here. Seen your man coming around here, too.”
“I’m worried about the Parson children. I’d like to get them into school.” He could not find words to say more to the woman who had not offered any welcome.
“Their ma has plenty of men giving them attention. I expect she don’t favor any notice from you.”
Al sat on the wagon’s high seat and let his eyes connect with the woman’s sullen stare. “Do you believe those children are safe?”
She kept staring. “Some things just are. You accept it, or you go crazy.”
“But what about the children?” Tread softly. Suck in the judgment.
“Look, mister. I’ve been a colored woman all my life. I know what we do to survive when we lose our man. Miss Parson had a good man, but he ain’t no more. Now, she’s working to feed them kids.”
How do I say it so she can hear me? “She’s planning to put those children to work in her business, ma’am.”
“You git out. No woman’s going to do that. You’re just playing Christian, trying to talk bad on her. We been fighting you planters since emancipation. You start looking at the orphans. Take them from families. Then you got yourself free workers.”
He couldn’t argue with her. Some planters did apprentice children and work them like slaves. The Union League had helped the coloreds organize, care for the orphans themselves. “I know you folks in Camptown have taken in several orphans. I’m asking you to pay close attention.”
“That poor woman was talked about at ol’ Affleck’s place. She got them away from there. Now you git before I call my husband and all the men in Camptown down on you.”
Al drove on down the street to the Parson house. Ella looked out the door. He stopped the wagon and called, “Tell Ezra my offer is still good.”
She turned back into the cabin.
Mid-November welcomed the first cold front and the end of plowing. The earth—moist from the rains that continued to offer regular blessings—smelled sweet, ready to nourish the next cotton crop. Al expected his new buggy to arrive from New Orleans before the end of the year, and Hébert finally had time to go with him to Columbus to purchase a horse as fine as Miss Millie. Just like Charles, Hébert was a horseman. He knew them; his long, hard body rode effortlessly on the back of every animal they had ever owned. He’d instilled that horse sense in Toby, taught the boy since he was big enough to straddle one of the giant beasts.
They planned to camp one night on the road near Industry and reach Columbus late the following day. The early-morning start stirred memories of Toby when they made the same trip to buy Miss Millie. He’d been too excited to sleep and woke Al before the old clock had struck three, insisting they better get on the road before it got too hot. They had traveled well past Brenham by moonlight.
Hébert climbed into the wagon and slumped on the seat, grinning. “You mind driving for a spell? I got powerful little sleep last night.”
“You’re wearing a big smile for a man who’s worn out. You been seeing Miss Perdue?” Al gritted his teeth against the ache in his shoulder that was already beginning its daily throbbing.
Hébert climbed over the back of the bench and opened his bedroll. “I’ve been courting that woman every night. We got to get married so I can get some rest.”
Al laughed. “That’s not the way it works.”
“Explain it to me later, Romeo.” Hébert pulled his bedroll up over his ears.
Al turned up his coat collar and smiled into the sharp breeze against his face. Hébert had a woman. Some good news he could share with Toby. He had considered not telling the boy about Ezra and Ella, but it didn’t seem right to wait and hit him with it when he got home. It had been several weeks since he had written asking his son why he was inquiring about colored enrollment. He had not received a response.
As they neared Brenham, he tried to shake off the foreboding that made him dread driving by the Parson house. Smoke curled from rooftops scattered along the edge of town and laundry flapped in the brisk northerly wind. Hébert roused and climbed onto the bench.
“I’ve been waiting for you to wake up and tell me there’s a wedding in the works.”
Hébert stretched his long legs out over the dashboard, leaned back on the wood bench and grinned. “Regina and I decided last night that we’d see if that new missionary priest will marry us.”
“You plan on going into Brenham for a Mass?”
“No. Regina’s a Methodist. We’ll ask the priest to stop and marry us when he heads back to Marlin.”
“Chappell Hill’s full of Methodists who’d marry you.”
“It’s Mama. She can’t imagine anyone but a Catholic priest. And Regina is agreeable.” Hébert chuckled deep in his throat. “I believe she loves my mama as much as she loves me. It’s the same for me. I love that woman enough to turn Methodist.” Then he sobered, shook his head, and stared off at the tiny houses edging the colored settlement. “I feel ashamed to be so mushy happy when those Parson kids are living in such a mess.”
“Yep. I can’t figure how to change it.”
“You remember, their father rode with that group of Union League men who came to register us to vote? It surprised the hell out of them that we were already registered and knew how to do it.”
When they turned onto the narrow street leading to the Parsons’, Al squinted into the sharp sunlight, pulled his hat low over his eyes to see the end of the road. “I’ll be damned. The Parson house is gone. It’s a pile of ashes. Stop at that house with the fence, where that woman’s on the porch.”
She was the woman he had tried to warn about Malaila Parson. The scowl was gone, and in its place an almost frantic look. She walked toward them. “Praise the Lord. You must have heard my prayers. We had a big meeting last night. My husband planned to come to your place when he got off tonight.” As she spoke, Ezra stepped out her front door and stood on the broad porch with his head down.
Al began clambering off the wagon, gripping the seat and using the extra step that Hébert had hammered next to the front wheel. Keep your head together. Stay calm for god’s sake. He walked to the fence and reached to shake her outstretched hand. “Please tell me your name.”
“Beulah Chambers.” She kept her voice low. “And I’m telling you right now, you was right about that woman.”
“What happened?” He nodded toward Ezra standing statue still by the front door. “Are the children all right?”
“Right as you could expect. Last week, my man Jefferson walked on down the road kinda late in the evening. He saw Ezra dart out of the house and run around to the back. Then he heard that baby girl cry out a most pitiful sound, and that woman shushed her.”
Al stared at Beulah Chambers waiting for her to compose herself.
“Jefferson tore into that house, and there it was. A white man on top of that child and her mama watching.”
“Goddammit.” Al leaned against the fence. “I hope he killed the bastard.”
“He leaped out the window. Had a horse waiting. It was dim light, and when I saw Jefferson run into that house, I yelled for help. And they came.” She sucked breath so deep that her nostrils flared. “Never caught the sorry wad.”
Hébert moved in close and laid his hand on Beulah Chambers’ trembling shoulder.
“We gathered them up. Jefferson carried that little girl in his arms and put her on our settee. She’s not moved from there. Ezra’s been sitting silent beside her.”
“What happened to the house?” Al nodded toward the pile of ashes.
“She run off in the middle of the night. Must of set the place on fire figuring it would burn up all of Camptown. Some of the neighbors saw the flames licking pretty high in the wind. They got buckets going fast enough to keep it from spreading.”
“Was your husband coming for my help?” Al held his breath, waiting for the answer.
“At our meeting, I told them about you wanting to get the kids in school. Some of us know about you manumitting your slaves ahead of the war. We figured you’d help us with these children.” She bent her head in Ezra’s direction. “He says he ain’t staying where ever’body knows about him and his mama.”
“Nobody knows about him at our school. May I talk to him? See if he’s willing to come with us?”
“I been praying you would.”
Al heard his boots thudding in rhythm to the beat of his heart. God, if you ever listen, help me out with this boy. “I’m glad to see you, Ezra.”
Ezra lifted eyes that looked like a dead man’s. “They’re figuring on what to do with us.”
Al touched the bony shoulder still clad in the oily shirt he wore in the summer. “I know what I would like. I’m checking to see if you and Ella will like it too.”
“What?”
“I’d like to take both of you home with me. Get you in the school near my place. And when you have free time, I’d like to hire you again. You’re still the best man with numbers.”
A flicker of a smile, then his head dropped. “You know Mama ran off?”
No judgment. No holy sounding talk. “That’s what I heard.”
“Ella won’t look at nobody.” Ezra stuffed his hands into his pockets and looked off toward the bare spot that had been his home.
“She’s hurt. We’ll ask Mama Zoé to help her. She knows a million remedies for healing. She’s the one fixed my shoulder. Doc said he couldn’t have done any better.”
“Huh. You’re still crippled.”
“Well, I’m not dead.”
Ezra could not suppress a smile. “You talk to Ella.”
Breathe deep. Stay gentle. Don’t crush this tiny bud. Al knelt beside the brown horsehair settee, leaned his face close to eyes shut tight. “Mama Zoé has medicines that can ease your hurting. She takes care of lots of hurt children and horses, too.”
She opened her eyes. “Horses?” Barely a whisper.
“Yes. And mules.”
“Could I ride a horse?”
“Sure. I’m getting another horse and a new buggy in a few more days. You can ride in it if you want.”
“My brother too?”
“Absolutely.” He waited for a response. “Will you and Ezra come with us in my big wagon?”
She nodded. Her fingers moved to Al’s hand that gripped the settee.
“Hébert’s strong. He can wrap you in our bedroll and carry you to the wagon.”
Ezra came alive, quickly gathering the few pieces of clothing stacked on the floor under the front window. Beulah Chambers reached for Al’s hand. “I owe you an apology, Mister Al. I thought I seen everything. I got broke up pretty bad over this.”
“We all did, Mrs. Chambers. I’ll let you know how they get along.”
“We’ll be coming to your store now. The one near Camptown welcomes coloreds, but it’s too high.”
“My store’s going to welcome everyone. If you don’t get treated right, let me know.”
Hébert drove the wagon to Waters Mercantile where Al found warm coats and a change of clothing for both children. Cora cut slices from a ham and then brought cheese and a loaf of bread to the wagon. Just as they started pulling away, she appeared on the porch with huge slices of her cake.
Al noticed that Ella nibbled at first and then ate a large slice of ham. The wind had shifted, and another cold blast brought whistling gusts that stung their faces. Both children snuggled down in the warmth of the bedrolls and slept soundly.
“We’ll make the trip to Columbus after they get settled,” Al said.
“It’s good we’re waiting. I’ll ask the priest to schedule enough time to marry us and to baptize both kids.”
Mama Zoé and Regina hurried from the big house. After only moments of discussion, Mama Zoé crawled into the wagon and bent over Ella, murmuring cooing dove sounds and stroking the child’s matted hair with long slender fingers. Finally, she nodded at her son, and he lifted the little girl into his arms. They disappeared into Mama Zoé’s quarters.
As he watched Regina’s smile welcome Ezra, Al understood how Hébert could become a Methodist to please that woman.
“I hope you’ll start school first thing tomorrow,” Regina said. “We’re getting ready for Thanksgiving, and some of the older students are reciting poems about our freedom.”
“Pappy taught me the Gettysburg Address.” Ezra’s eyes snapped with pride. “It’s not a poem.” His face formed a question.
“It’s a perfect contribution. Would you share it?”
Ezra looked at Al. “Do you need me to work tomorrow?”
“I need you in school every day. Work is extra.” Al watched Regina walk with Ezra toward the school, her voice as lyrical as a songbird. What in the world was he going to do with two children? Had he lost his mind? He’d been dreaming of travel, thinking he could take the new buggy to Indianola, search for Amelia.