Glimmers of Change (45 page)

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Authors: Ginny Dye

BOOK: Glimmers of Change
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“Something I should know?” Annie asked keenly. “You been acting jumpy all day long.”

Rose shrugged. “I don’t know what I’m feeling,” she admitted, “but I want to make sure the children are safe.” It gave her comfort to know all of them could disappear into the tunnel at any moment, but she was afraid of what could happen to the house and all the horses. “Please go!” she pleaded as the carriage noise grew closer.

“You be careful,” Annie said. She smiled brightly at the boys clambering onto the porch. “I got me some hot cookies coming out of the oven. I sure could use some tasters.”

John grinned. “We be the best tasters around,” he boasted.

“We
be
?” Rose asked, not able to let it go.

John grinned even wider, looking just like a tiny replica of his daddy. “We
are
the best tasters around,” he said correctly, his eyes twinkling with fun.

Rose laughed, reached down to give him a fierce hug, and then opened the door so they could all disappear inside. Alone on the porch again, she forced herself to take deep, steady breaths. Suddenly her eyes narrowed. She turned and dashed into the house, emerging moments later with a rifle resting in her arms. Moses had insisted she learn how to shoot before he agreed to go to Memphis. He would be appalled that she had almost forgotten to get her weapon. She had to admit she felt better holding it.

Moments later the carriage rounded the curve, but in the growing dusk it was too dark to see who was driving. She forced herself to wait, vaguely aware vigilantes would probably not arrive in a carriage. They would prefer the speed of horseback. Rose stood stiffly and ordered herself to remain alert. She was the only person standing between her children and trouble.

“Rose!”

As soon as the familiar voice sounded in the evening air, Rose shuddered out a relieved gasp. She relaxed and shoved the rifle onto a table. “Thomas!” she cried, dashing down into the drive. “Spencer! What are you two doing here?” Suddenly she tensed again. Thomas wouldn’t have driven all the way out from Richmond unless there was a very serious reason. “What’s wrong?” she demanded, fear once more pounding through her blood.

Thomas stepped from the carriage and reached for her hands. “It’s good to see you.”

Rose shook her head impatiently. “It’s good to see you, too, but I have been anxious about something all day. I kept expecting something to happen here, but that’s not it, is it? You have to tell me what is wrong.”

Thomas nodded. “I received a telegraph today from Memphis.”

Rose stared at him. “Memphis?” New terror roared through her mind. “Moses? Has something happened to him?” The roaring in her head was so loud she was afraid she wouldn’t hear Thomas’s reply. Had he survived the war only to die in Memphis?

Thomas shook his head quickly. “I don’t know anything about Moses,” he assured her. But his face was grave. “The telegraph that came through simply said there had been a riot in Memphis.”

Rose stared at him, knowing there was more. “Tell me all of it,” she commanded.

Thomas heaved a sigh. “There have been black deaths, but we don’t know anything more.”

Rose held his gaze, knowing he was holding something back. “You’re not telling me everything,” she said levelly. “I’m a grown woman, Thomas. Tell me everything.”

Thomas glanced at Spencer. “I told you she would see right through me.”

Rose waited.

“The telegraph was from Peter,” Thomas continued. “When they got to Memphis, Moses insisted on staying at the fort with other soldiers.”

“Not with Matthew and Robert?” Rose asked. “Why?” Her mind swirled with questions.

Thomas shook his head. “I don’t know. I do know that when the rioting broke out yesterday, Robert and Matthew went to try and find him.” He hesitated. “As of this morning, Peter had not heard from any of them.”

Rose forced herself to breathe. “How bad is it?” she asked quietly.

“It’s bad,” Thomas admitted after a long pause. “A lot of blacks have been killed or injured. When Peter wrote, he said things were out of control.” He paused and glanced back down the road. “I wanted you to hear the news from me.”

Rose considered this and then shook her head decisively. “That’s not why you’re here,” she said, her mind thinking through everything she had heard. “We would have no way of hearing this news if you had decided to stay in Richmond. You could have waited until you had solid information before you came out here.” Now it was her turn to glance down the road, falling silent long enough to determine if she could hear anything in the distance. When only silence filled the night, she turned back to her brother. “You are here because you’re afraid we’re in danger.”

Spencer grinned. “I told you she weren’t gonna fall for it.” His grin faded as a serious look filled his face. “We knows you be out here by yourself, Rose.”

“News of the Memphis riot will spread,” Thomas interjected.

“And you’re afraid it will spark more violence everywhere,” Rose finished for him, her mind filled with the image of the men who had ridden by the school earlier.

“Yes,” Thomas admitted. “We decided we wanted to even the odds a little more if you needed help.”

A sudden movement at the edge of the woods caught Rose’s attention. She watched, open-mouthed, as Simon appeared, followed by all the plantation workers and their families.

Thomas watched the group move closer. “I wasn’t willing to risk their safety, either. All black communities are considered easy targets. I believe everyone will be safer on the plantation. Vigilantes will think twice about coming onto Cromwell.”

Simon held up his gun. “I reckon everyone has gotten word that we all used to be soldiers, as well.” His face was set and determined. “We won’t let anyone get hurt.”

“They don’t know Robert and Moses are gone,” Rose protested, but she couldn’t deny the instant feeling of comfort she felt now that everyone was together. She could read the same relief on the other women’s faces as their children ran around the yard, squealing as they chased the first fireflies of the year.

“Word gets around,” Thomas replied quietly. “I wasn’t willing to take a chance.”

Rose felt a warm surge of love as she slid her arm around Thomas’s waist. In spite of how far they had come, overt expressions of affection were still rare. “Thank you,” she said softly.

The door to the plantation house flung open. John and Simon came running out, thrilled to find the yard full of other children. Moments later their happy laughter joined that of the other children. Firefly chasing quickly turned into a game of hide-and-seek.

Rose watched the carefree children for several minutes before she turned back to Thomas.

He read the question in her eyes before she asked it. “Jeremy is running the factory. He has agreed to send someone out with news as soon as they hear something definite.”

Rose nodded. She was concerned about Moses, but something had shifted inside of her. She was certain she would feel it if something bad had happened. She had been anxious all day, but she didn’t feel a sense of loss. She knew the ache in her would be a gaping, dark void if her husband was dead or wounded. She had experienced that agonized knowing when Moses had been shot during battle. She felt none of that now.

 

 

Thomas sighed as he settled back in the chair he had pulled close to the window. He had no real reason to expect trouble, but he certainly didn’t have a reason
not
to.

Rose carried in cups of hot tea and settled down in the chair across from him. The house was finally quiet. The children were asleep, Annie had finished in the kitchen and gone to bed, and Spencer had been settled in a room upstairs. She was certain he was watching out the window too. The knowledge added to her sense of warm security.

“That was a heavy sigh,” she commented as she took a sip of her tea, watching fireflies create sparkles of light in the oak tree. In spite of the risk of danger, she felt safe. Six of the men were stationed outside the house. The rest of them were protecting the women and children down in the old quarters.

“I had this insane idea that things would be peaceful when the war ended,” Thomas replied heavily. He took a sip of his tea but his eyes never quit scanning the darkness. “Our country feels like it is just as much a powder keg as it was before the war. Perhaps more so. Before the war, the feelings in the South were toward the North. I felt them, but they weren’t coming from the people around me. It was the people
out there
.” He paused, gathering his thoughts. “Now the anger and hatred are focused
here
, on the more than four million freed slaves surrounding us every day.” His fist clenched. “But it’s not just them. It’s also focused on people like Jeremy who are mulatto, and people like me who no longer hate and discriminate. We are all a threat they wish they could snuff out.”

Rose listened quietly. This was the first time it had ever been just she and Thomas. She knew her half-brother accepted and loved her, but there had always been other people around when they talked. It felt good to sit quietly and listen to him talk, his voice blending with the crickets and frogs tuning up their orchestra.

“Are you afraid?” Thomas asked, swinging his gaze away from the window.

Rose met his gaze. “Most of the time I’m not. Today was a different matter. I could feel something in the air. It scared me.” She had told Thomas about the horsemen. He had agreed it had been wise to send the children home. “It is difficult to balance fear and reason,” she admitted. “I don’t want to give in to fear. Neither do I want to be foolish.”

Thomas nodded thoughtfully. “I know what you mean. I’ve been scared for Abby ever since she was accosted on the way home from the factory. She hates being constantly watched, but I couldn’t bear it if something happened to her.”

Rose nodded. She had clear memories of Thomas’s grief when his first wife died. She didn’t want that for him again, and it would break her own heart if something happened to the woman she loved so much. “She’ll have to deal with being watched,” she murmured.

Thomas glanced back toward the window when an owl hooted loudly. “I was relieved when she headed for New York City and thrilled Carrie and the rest of the students could join her. I thought she would be safe there. Now I’m not sure any of them are.”

Rose was alarmed when his face suddenly creased with a scowl. “Is something wrong in New York?”

Thomas shrugged. “They’ve had three cases of cholera reported. Abby assures me they are safe, but I am worried.”

Rose sucked in her breath. Carrie had told her enough about the cholera epidemics of the past for her to know they were not easily controlled. “They are leaving the city?”

Thomas managed a small smile. “Do you remember who you are talking about? They went to attend the Women’s Rights Conference. They refuse to, and I quote,
let a little thing like cholera stop them from attending
.”

Rose chuckled, but it did nothing to abate her sudden worry. New York was a massive city, but cholera was no respecter of people or wealth. The two women she loved best were both there — both in danger of a catching a disease she knew would most likely kill them. She was suddenly tired of it all. A wave of anger merged with her worry, threatening to overwhelm and swallow her. “Don’t you ever just get sick of it?” she demanded.

Thomas cocked an eyebrow. “Sick of it?” His expression invited more.

Rose groped for words. “Sick of the worry. Sick of the fear. Sick of not knowing what will happen next. Sick of waiting and hoping that things will get better but having no real confidence it will ever happen.
Just sick of it
!” She finished with a heated burst, her heart pounding, but somehow feeling a little better that she had expressed it. The wave shrank back, lessening the pressure.

“Every day,” Thomas assured her. “Then I remind myself I have no choice in what is happening, but I can definitely choose how I respond to it.” He reached forward to grasp Rose’s hand. “I almost lost myself during the war. I was so angry and bitter. I was sick of everything. Thank God I finally realized my bitterness was doing nothing but hurting myself. I still struggle with it,” he admitted, “but I deal with it much more quickly.”

Rose heard his words, but something bigger was happening in her as she stared down at their hands intertwined, her slim dark fingers nestled in his strong white ones. Suddenly hope soared through her, blotting out the fear and worry that threatened to consume her. This man had once been her master. His father had raped her mother. He had sold her father and baby brother to protect his own father’s reputation. Yet here they were, siblings connected by their humanity and a very genuine love.

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