Plantation Nation (9781621352877) (6 page)

During breakfast, Knox announced Alexander
and Quinn's plans to travel into Charleston and sign with the
Confederate army. After a pause, several other relatives and
friends admitted their intentions were the same. Discussion
followed then about heading into Beaumont and procuring train
tickets for the young men.

The tension resonating among the slaves
differed from the anxiousness gripping the young men set to enlist,
but everyone felt a degree of stress. Burnt biscuits and grits
mattered little, as knapsacks were hastily packed and young men
suppressed apprehensions of going headlong into war. Playing
hostess distracted Olivia from hysterics. Knox commended all the
boys for their sudden and sure support for the South.

Emma's eyes swept to Stuart, who was bidding
farewell to his oldest brother. They shook hands and exchanged
promises. Emma knew no such sentiment would pass between her and
her brothers. Alexander, quiet and awkward, rarely shared affection
or conversation. He spent most of his time hunting or devoted to
activities that required no interaction with his family. And when
it came to Quinn, Emma knew what a black heart beat within him. As
Quinn stood postured and prideful, surrounded by relatives, Emma
remembered those harsh summer days when Quinn gathered frogs from
the marshes, twisted and yanked off their legs, then dropped them
down his sisters' dresses for no other reason than to amuse
himself. Emma and Stella always cried and ran to their father.
Despite Thomas Cartwright's loving but firm hand with his sons, he
remained at odds with Quinn.

"Why are so many people crying?" Sylvia
whispered to Emma.

"The boys are leaving to fight the Yankees."
Emma thought of Vaughn and his refusal to be inconvenienced by a
battle over slavery. Some of the young men, Emma knew, had no
choice in the matter. Duty and honor compelled them. Emma hated
that separation, war and death seemed the only course for a
resolution. "We might never see some of them again."

She and Sylvia glanced at their brothers, and
Franklin crossed Emma's mind. Oldest of the children, Franklin had
been Emma's favorite brother. He left the family soon after the
Uprising and their father's funeral. In a note he left with Harper,
Franklin claimed his guilt was too great to stay. He said he would
head west to Kansas and dedicate himself to preventing the spread
of slavery. Known as "Bleeding Kansas," the territory had been a
battleground over whether or not it would enter the Union as a free
or slave state, based on the population's preference. Various
abolitionists and pro-slavery groups had fled to Kansas, each
intending to ensure their preference. Violence became commonplace
and resulted in nearly sixty deaths over a period of two years.
Once new leaders helped reestablish reasonable peace, Kansas earned
its statehood in January of 1861 and joined the Union as a free
state.

However, Emma and her family understood the
message Franklin intended. As the months passed, no correspondence
followed. The family's assumptions about Franklin's fate were
endless. Since the aftermath of the Uprising and Thomas
Cartwright's death were still fresh, the family found it even more
difficult to accept another loss, especially Emma and Knox.
Speculation about Franklin waned, and when everyone sensed it was
best for Knox not to hear Franklin mentioned, talk about him
ceased, and his name was no longer spoken out loud.

Emma considered him a coward for leaving the
way he did, but she admitted to no one, including Sylvia, how she
missed him terribly.

"I'm glad we're girls," Sylvia said.

"Oh?" Emma said, snapping from her gloom.

"We get to stay here, and we don't have to
worry about fighting." Sylvia threw her arms around her sister and
held her tight.

Emma kissed Sylvia's cheek. "I'm glad too,"
she lied.

****

Knox and Olivia escorted the boys to the
train depot in Beaumont and allowed the younger children to tag
along for the outing into town. Company trickled homeward, and Emma
set to helping Harper and the other slaves with restoring order to
the household. Stuart decided to extend his stay. He pitched in
with drying dishes and carting the wash to Tilda. Emma appreciated
his efforts as much as his company. She told herself life without
Quinn would be an improvement, though she wondered if George
Napier's role around the plantation would deepen with the older
Cartwrights gone. She also worried about Knox and the toll the
boys' absence would have on him.

"Beaumont must be busting at the seams with
all those Cartwrights in town," Emma said. Stuart and Harper
laughed while Emma set down bowls of rice with black-eyed peas. She
pictured Sylvia at the train depot, eyes wide and taking in all the
sights, sounds and people.

Emma tried to imagine Quinn handling a gun
and taking orders, two areas of weakness for him. Since they were
adolescents, Emma had been a better shot, and Knox's gift of a Colt
revolver for Quinn's fifteenth birthday had been an
embarrassment.

The afternoon dissipated, and a strange quiet
hovered throughout the house.

"Maybe we should bake a sweet potato pie for
Granddad and Mother, help take their minds off the boys," Emma
said. "They should be back soon."

Stuart slapped his hands together. "Sweet
potato pie is my specialty."

Harper flashed a droll glance Stuart's way
but only chuckled at his boast. At least Stuart knew better than to
brag about making cornbread. Harper's recipe rivaled none other.
She hollered for the younger colored children and had them help
with preparations. A slab of salt pork and okra soup were also
called for. Soon, the kitchen vibrated from the boisterous hymns
Harper led them in singing. Stuart twirled in his wheelchair, and
it was the lightest Emma had felt in recent days.

As she and Stuart set the table, Knox and
Olivia arrived home. The colored children scattered like mice.
Harper stopped singing and averted her eyes.

Immediately, Emma took notice of her mother's
paleness and Knox's haggard face.

"Are you all right?" Emma asked them both.
She moved toward them, almost prepared to catch her mother.

Knox released the scowl on his face. He
brushed his hand down his overcoat. Dust billowed. "A mighty busy
scene. I believe every young, able-bodied man in the county showed
up at that depot."

"It was quite encouraging." Olivia sighed,
her weariness apparent.

Emma listened and wondered why she didn't
hear her siblings, chatting and rumbling into the dining room.

"Are you having the children eat in the
kitchen?" she asked.

Olivia darted a glance at Knox. She took a
deep breath and sat in her usual spot at the table.

"The children will not be joining us this
evening," Olivia said. "I spoke with your grandfather, and I have
taken a precautionary measure where the children are
concerned."

"What
measure
?"

"I sent Annabelle, Sylvia, and the twins to
New Orleans. They took a train this morning to Aunt Celia's."

Emma stopped breathing. "You sent them away?"
Sylvia!

Although it had been close to a decade since
her last visit to her aunt's, Emma well remembered the summers she
and her siblings had spent in New Orleans. Traveling with nine
children eventually proved too taxing for Olivia, especially when
it came time to leave and she had no yearning for the plantation.
Aunt Celia, with no husband or children of her own, lavished her
adoration on her two smelly Catahoula leopard dogs. She, too,
despised plantation living and claimed Beaumont had no culture and
nothing of interest. She rarely visited, but she and Olivia
corresponded frequently through letters.

"Under the circumstances," Olivia said, "with
a war going on around us, I thought it was best to send them
someplace where they would be safe."

"New Orleans is perhaps the most critical
port in the South!"

Perplexity and a degree of curiosity struck
Knox and Olivia's faces, but Emma continued.

"Who's to say where anyone can go to be safe,
mother? And why…" Emma fought back tears. "Why wouldn't you mention
this earlier? You must have intended to send them away for quite a
while. Why? Why didn't you say anything? Why would you send them
away before we had a chance to say goodbye?" The last word was
almost inaudible.

"Don't question me! I did what was best for
my children, young lady. I am the authority here, and I do not need
to consult with my sixteen-year-old daughter on my decisions."

"But…" Emma looked to her grandfather for
help, for a sign this could not be true.

"We must respect your mother's wishes," Knox
said. "I understand you're upset, Emma, but an outburst would prove
fruitless. It's done. The children are gone. You can write to
Sylvia, every day if you'd like, but our focus should be on
surviving this war."

"You didn't send me away, Mother." Bitterness
replaced Emma's tears. "Does that mean you're not concerned for my
well-being?"

"Well, of course not! How could you accuse me
of such a thing?" Olivia's dramatic voice and exasperations were
for Stuart's benefit, Emma knew. "Besides, I couldn't possibly send
you away, not with Vaughn so anxious for the two of you to marry."
Their eyes locked. A sly smile appeared, matching the coy
expression on Olivia's face. "Now that I think on it, there really
is nothing for you to do except plan your wedding. Vaughn will be
right pleased, I'm sure."

Having seen through her mother's watery
excuse, Emma wanted to spew every vile word that trembled on her
lips, but instead she said in an angered whisper, "I'll never
forgive you for this," and fled the room.

****

Stuart had made no definite plans for staying
with the Cartwrights, but after Olivia and Emma's confrontation
before supper, he questioned whether he should stay. He had been
helpless to stop Emma from running out of the house, and he had
little hope of looking for her, since his wheelchair did not
maneuver well outdoors. Anger throbbed in him. Not only had Emma
run from him, but she had also left him there to face Knox and
Olivia alone.

"Stuart, you must speak to her for us,"
Olivia said. "I declare, I have no hope of getting through to that
girl anymore. Ever since the death of her father she's been
difficult." She placed her hand on top of Stuart's. "You've always
been a dear, though, Stuart, and certainly the brightest of my
sister's children. She'll listen to you. You must convince her to
marry Vaughn."

Harper set two more bowls on the table and
rolled her eyes as she faced Stuart.

Knox excused himself from the room.

Stuart mustered a grin for his aunt. "I'll
see what I can do."

****

Settled in one of the guest rooms for the
night, Stuart found sleep impossible. After an awkward meal with
Olivia, he saw no sign of anyone apart from the household workers.
Harper told him a few of the children saw Emma by her father's
grave, but no one bothered her.

"Best to jus' let her be a spell," Harper had
said. "She'll come aroun'."

Stuart wondered. He had never known Emma to
be without Sylvia, or Sylvia without Emma, and he understood the
trauma of their separation. Worse, he knew his aunt was using
Sylvia's departure to force Emma into a miserable marriage.

Lying in the darkness, consumed by his
thoughts, Stuart heard his name whispered. He turned his head but
saw no one. A figure approached and knelt beside his bed. Then a
match flared and lit an oil lamp. Yellow light poured onto a face
he did not recognize.

"Who are you?" Startled, he sat up and
reached for his glasses.

"Stuart, it's me, Emma."

He fumbled his spectacles. "Emma?" Stuart
squinted. "What happened to your hair?"

Emma ran her fingertips along the side of her
shortened locks.

"Tilda cut it for me. I did a lot of
thinking, and I made up my mind about something. I'm gonna do it,
Stuart. I'm really gonna do it."

"Do what?"

She handed him the newspaper Stuart had shown
her at the dinner party, the section highlighting President
Lincoln's call for seventy-five-thousand volunteers.

"I'm going to join the Union army."

Silence pulsed.

"Emma, are you out of your mind? You can't
join the army. It's too dangerous. You don't know anything about
being a soldier."

"Neither does Alexander
—
or Quinn. I expect the army will train me in
all I need to know."

"But you're a girl. You can't just cut your
hair and expect to pass for a man. People will notice."

"You didn't." Emma smiled as she stood.
Wearing a thread-bare, over-sized shirt that belonged to Alexander
and a pair of Quinn's trousers, Emma turned for Stuart to admire
her ensemble.

"What am I missing?"

Stuart looked her over for flaws but found
none. In the dim light, with traces of dirt smeared on her face,
Emma looked convincing, but Stuart could only guess as to how other
men would perceive her. Despite the transformation, the sight of
her passionate eyes and pouty lips made his heart ache. He hated
the idea of her running away to an encampment full of men
—
and more so, the possibility
that she could end up killed.

"This will never work," he said. "What if
you're found out? The army isn't likely to treat a female kindly.
It's too dangerous."

"You mentioned that already. It's no more
dangerous than staying here and ending up as Mrs. Vaughn Jackson,
far as I'm concerned."

She had a point, he knew. The notion of her
being Vaughn's bride stirred his fury. He would do anything to keep
that from happening. He doubted her running away and joining the
army was a better alternative, but he could think of nothing
convincing to say, nothing that would change her stubborn mind and
make her stay.