The Sun Rises (Southern Legacy Book 4) (6 page)

Heyward looked over the boy at his mother. “What bad man?”

* * * *

“Captain Claiborne, I believe it is best if we recall Mitchell. The network was collapsing even before Heyward asked to be replaced.” Lieutenant McFadden glanced up as he saw Heyward walk into the tiny office. McFadden motioned for him to close the door.

Heyward had to stand because there wasn’t another chair. From the look on Claiborne’s face, the man was in no frame of mind to be hospitable.

“This network has been extremely beneficial to our intelligence. It would be ill-advised to dismantle it prematurely. We have this…” Claiborne clicked his fingers together as he had the name of the tip of his tongue.

“Jonas, sir,” McFadden offered. “Let me remind you that the team worked well together because there were three of them. Once Heyward is discovered gone, I would recommend caution.”

“Look around you, Lieutenant.” Claiborne’s tone was laced with sarcasm. “The streets are filled with refugees. I dare say that one more missing nigger isn’t going to cause concern.”

At the utterance, Heyward tensed. McFadden shot him a look of caution.

“There is no need to use such language, Captain,” McFadden stated firmly. “Heyward has done a commendable job and has risked his life daily for the mission. He is also a volunteer who hasn’t been paid for his work as was agreed.”

“Which you reminded me last night, Lieutenant…of my being remiss. I assume that you visited General Sherman last night because he met with me this morning to make sure I had rectified the situation.” Claiborne breathed out heavily and handed a pouch to Heyward. “You will find the papers are in order, including a written recommendation from Lieutenant McFadden.”

Heyward accepted the pouch. Opening it up, he looked through them. He read enough to recognize that Claiborne had spoken the truth. Closing it up, he smiled. “Thank ya, Captain.”

He wanted the good captain to know he could read. His mother had seen to that. He was not an ignorant soul. He had every intention of going back to Philadelphia to accomplish what he had dreamed of with Gillie.

His mother and Tome waited for him outside. The ship was leaving with the tide. They would be on it.

Over the last few days, Heyward had come to the realization that there comes a time in a man’s life when he has to make a choice. For so long, he had tried to outrun the anger that lived within him, but there was only so far he could run.

There would be no more running.

He was taking his family, Ma and the boy, up to Philadelphia to start life anew. He had done all he could for the cause down here in the Carolinas.

Children’s laughter echoed on the piazza. Percival ran around his little sister, who sat in the middle of a pallet, laughing and giggling. Every few minutes, Madeline glanced around to ensure her mother’s presence and then resumed being entertained by her brother’s antics.

Jo soaked in the sight of her two wonderfully clever and precocious children. Madeline had a headful of unruly dark blonde ringlets, with the largest eyes as blue as the depths of the ocean. Unlike her brother, she was a painfully shy baby, quite attached to only a select few—her momma, grandmother, and brother.

Strange how the siblings were so different. Rambunctious and energetic, Percival was personable and outgoing. He had yet to meet a stranger. He loved animals and always had his daddy’s dog, Duke, running after him.

The beautiful sunshine had given Magnolia Bluff a lovely garden this summer. The flowers were in full bloom: violets, roses, and yellow jessamine. The vegetables had also been plentiful, keeping the table filled with green peas, strawberries, asparagus, and potatoes.

Josephine realized they were fortunate. While not as bountiful as in the past, no one on the plantation was going hungry.
The chickens supplied fresh eggs; the cows, fresh milk, which also allowed them to make yellow butter.

She wiped back the sweat from her brow. The sweltering heat had begun early this year, with no promise of the weather breaking until fall.

“Oh, dear, the heat is so unbearable. It has become impossible to sleep. The air is so heavy I find I can’t breathe properly. I fear it is not healthy for the children or Jenna.” Mother Montgomery fanned herself.

Looking over at Mother Montgomery, Jo could not argue with her. The unyielding warmth was oppressive. If not for the war, they would not be at Magnolia Bluff at this time of the year. Mother Montgomery had suggested they return to Charleston. Reluctantly, Jo had been considering it.

The heat wasn’t the only deterrent on the plantation. The bugs and mosquitos had been dreadful. The mosquito netting had been the only saving grace at night, but Jo feared that too would become scarce soon enough.

In his constant need to keep moving, Percival ran into his sister and knocked her over, inciting an ear-piercing cry. Mother Montgomery rose and picked up the screeching child, immediately calming her.

Jo watched in admiration. There was a gentle dignity about her mother-in-law. Underneath her low, soft voice was a strong will, which cared deeply for her family. She never came out and demanded, but suggested. Jo realized she needed to heed Mother Montgomery’s wish to go live in Charleston.

On the other hand, Derek had been quite vocal about the need for Jenna to find relief from the plantation. The poor soul had been so ill since she confided to Jo she was with child.

In the past, women in the family way would have been pampered along the coast with the ocean breeze to cool her; iced drinks to refresh her. Times had changed. Even going into Charleston would not alleviate all her discomforts, only ease them somewhat.

The Charleston of old had faded as it faced the harsh reality of war. There were no more cries that the conflict would be over quickly. The city that had sounded the call for secession and served as the face of the Confederacy had become paranoid, fearing the Yankees would descend upon them at any moment.

The blockade had drained its inhabitants. Provisions needed for everyday life had become increasingly difficult to come by. Moreover, the comforts afforded the rich now came with a stiff price. A pair of gloves went for thirty dollars, a pair of slippers for fifty, and that was for articles of clothing that in the past would not have been fit for their servants.

The blockade-runners had become the only ones to profit during this conflict. The once affluent and wealthy had learned how fast everything could change.

The lovely, charming city had become a shell of what it once had been. The great fire of ’61 had blackened the streets. The residents had been unable to repair the damage, due to the lack of men and supplies. The war raged and silenced the church bells that once peeled throughout the streets.

Facing the inevitable, Jo had concluded she needed to heed Mother Montgomery’s wish to go live in Charleston…at least for the summer. Derek wasted no time after Jo relented and had left earlier in the morning to inspect the logistics of the move.

Derek always made an effort to be polite to Jo, if not somewhat brusque, but there was tension underneath the surface. Jo was keenly aware Derek had never forgiven her for the implied offense when he first returned to Magnolia Bluff. Jo realized he felt she had questioned his integrity. Consequently, she had not expected Derek’s support when Andrew insisted on telling him about the incident with Tome.

“Times are hard enough. We need to rely on each other. We cannot keep a secret this sensitive. He is a part of our family and has a right to know.”

At first, Derek seemed taken back by the tale, but in the end supported Jo in her decision to help the young Negro boy, despite the ramification it might mean to the family. “It is a shame. I greatly admire Mr. Whitney and understand his grief, but I also grasp why you could not turn your back on a child. We will endure any rumors that might arise.”

Understanding suffused within Jo that Derek considered her empathy a weakness of being a woman, but it was an encouraging sign for the family. She remembered Miss Hazel telling her once that misfortunes will do one of two things: strengthen a family or split it.

Jo wondered whether it had more to do with Jenna’s stance. Only the night before, Jenna declared, “I don’t question our cause and know it is just, but I can’t help but feel that slavery’s time needs to come to an end.”

“I do not disagree with you, my dear,” Derek replied. “I doubt it will ever be the same after this conflict. We are fortunate here at Magnolia Bluff. The servants who have stayed are loyal and excellent. They are as much a fixture here as the family.”

Jo realized that although Derek was raised on a plantation in Georgia, it was not as large or massive as the land owned by the family he had married into. He had become a great asset, not afraid of hard, physical labor.

She had discovered that Derek had an inner strength that emerged since his return. Gone was the thought of him as a cripple. His left shirt sleeve may have been pinned up at the shoulder, but that was the only indication of his handicap.

Not afraid to toil alongside the remaining Negros, Derek worked harder than ten men. The plantation had come to depend heavily on his guidance. He mended fences, tilled the garden, and saw to the livestock.

With most of Andrew’s time and energy concentrated on the hospital in Charleston, Gardner had begun to come to Derek for direction on the care of the plantation. It was one less worry upon Andrew’s shoulders.

For well over a century, the main cash crop on Magnolia Bluff had long been rice. They had not even attempted to plant the fields this year. There would be no cash crops. It would have been a useless venture. Instead, Derek’s focus was upon Magnolia Bluff maintaining its ability to be self-sufficient.

The emphasis had turned to the other plantations under the Montgomery name to supply the needed cash crops; those grew cotton. Unfortunately, cotton had fared no better, commanding no price whatsoever. Derek reasoned that at least cotton could be stored and sold at a later time.

Long before the war, Jo would have fallen on her knees, praying and weeping, at the magnitude of problems that faced Magnolia Bluff. She had learned to take one day at a time, not looking ahead…just surviving the day.

Lost in her thoughts, Jo smiled over at her daughter, who made such a lovely picture with her grandmother. The little one reached up and touched Mother Montgomery’s face in the most gentle of fashions with her chubby hand.

From the corner of her eye, movement caught her attention. Turning, Jo rose and walked over to the railing. Amos ran haphazardly across the back of the front lawn, flailing his hands over his head.

Rosa emerged from the back of the house and ran to meet him. Amos doubled over for a moment to catch his breath. Grasping the large black man by the shoulders, Rosa leaned over and said something.

Too far away to make out the words, Jo watched in confusion. Rosa glanced around in a nervous manner and then ushered Amos back the way he came. After one last look behind her, Rosa followed.

“Mother Montgomery, can you watched the children for a moment? There seems to be a disturbance of some sort.”

“Oh, my,” Mother Montgomery cried in a low voice, Madeline clutched to her chest. “Is it…is it the Yankees?”

“No…no, my dear. I can assure you I would not be going out to greet the devils,” Jo calmed Mother Montgomery. “More than likely, it is nothing. I just saw Rosa head toward the barn. I hope it is not Ole Toby. Can’t afford to lose another draft mule. Amos said the old mule was looking peaked last night. Do you need Anna to help you with the children?”

Obvious relief flooded the older woman’s face. She shook her head. “I will bring the children in for a nap.”

“Thank you. I’ll be back shortly.” Without looking back, Jo scurried down the steps. She didn’t want to lose sight of Rosa, because she had lied to Mother Montgomery. Rosa hadn’t headed to the barn but along the path to the docks.

Keeping up her pace behind Rosa, Jo focused on following her without being detected. Rosa turned off the trail, but made her way through the tall weeds along the riverbank. Terrified of running across a sleeping alligator, snake, or worse, Jo picked up her skirt and rushed through the undergrowth.

Breathless, she paused. Rosa had slowed and moved alongside Amos. Inching closer, Jo saw what had brought the two out along the river’s edge. It was a man…a white man.

Instinctively, she walked up to Rosa and stared down incredulously at the unconscious figure. Sprawled on the ground, he faced upward as if he had been rolled over. He had no hat; his unkempt beard hung down to his chest; his disheveled brown hair tangled. He was a big man, but his face was thin and his cheeks sunken.

Covered in mud, he wore no uniform, but clothing of a working man. A once white shirt was tattered and torn; his pants ripped. He wore no shoes, but it wasn’t his appearance that had her trembling. No, it was the blood oozing over his shirt along his waistline.

Groaning, his face contorted, writhing in pain. She eased ever so cautiously down to his side. All her instincts cried to run, leave him to his fate, but she did not. She reached out toward him.

“Lordy! Miss Jo, don’t ya touch him.”

Startled, Jo recoiled and clutched her hand to her bosom. Finally able to breathe again, she asked, “What happened? Do either of you know this man?”

“No, Miss Jo,” Amos said. “I found him like this. Somethin’ awful done happened. But ain’t gonna worry ya none, not with Dr. Andrew and Master Derek gone. Went and got Rosa.”

Glancing up, Jo saw the two exchanged nervous looks. Then she turned her attention back to the injured…dying man. The only semblance of life reflected was in his chest heaving heavily and the grunts of pain it took to make each labored breath.

Mustering up her courage, she reached over and pulled up his shirt. Easy enough now to see a gaping wound: he had been stabbed.

“Amos, did he say anything?”

Jo looked around; her heart hammered loudly. Everything was quiet, but caution had to be taken. Andrew and Derek both had warned the women numerous times not to show hospitality to strangers. There were miscreants who preyed upon the weakened state of plantations. Could this man be one of a group?

“Amos,” Jo repeated and then demanded, “Amos, what did this man say?”

Most reluctantly, Amos stuttered, “He asked… for Dr. Andrew, Miss Jo…Dr. Andrew.”

****

There had been no time to waste. Jo had Amos take the man to the sick cabin. She had her doubts that he would survive being moved even that short distance.

Jo stood nervously over the bed.
How could a man bleed so much and still be breathing?
She rinsed out the towel and placed it back over the wound, but again the towel reddened as fast as she held it against it.

“Hold it tight against it.”

As she jerked her head around, she immediately breathed a sigh of relief—Andrew.

Throwing his hat on the hardback chair, he rolled up his sleeves and proceeded to take control of the patient. Silently, he worked in the hot, sweltering room. He asked only for Jo to retrieve his medical bag on his horse.

After what seemed an eternity to Jo, Andrew stitched up the wound. Finally, the bleeding stopped.

“It is fortunate I was returning to Magnolia Bluff today. I had only turned up the lane to the main house when Amos caught me.” Andrew sighed and rubbed the back of his strained neck. “You didn’t call attention to him, I hope.”

“Of course not,” Jo answered defensively. “Only Rosa, Amos and…” She glanced over in the corner at Lonnie, who sat with a muddled expression. “Lonnie. Amos told the others that Lonnie got hurt in the cutting back the overgrowth to cover. I don’t think many of the other darkies will believe the story, but Mother Montgomery will.”

“I doubt any of them will say anything. No one wants trouble and it is best for Mother and the girls to be unaware of his presence.” As he washed his hands in the bloody water, Andrew nodded his head. “I understand the stranger asked for me.”