Thorns in Eden and the Everlasting Mountains (39 page)

“That
is true. Greed and prejudice drives men to enslave others.”

“Well,
let us pray the minds of our leaders will trouble them so deep on the subject,
all people will be free in our new country.”

 “Look
at that overseer standing over there watching them as they go to church. The vulture.
Put him in shackles and sell him off.  I bet he wouldn’t like it.”

“If
the authorities get wind those men and women are made to work on Sunday, their
owner will be fined.”

She
looked startled and angry. “Do they work them on Sunday, Jack? You’ve seen
this? Then you must say something.” She grabbed his sleeve. “Look! The overseer
is abusing that poor woman.” 

Without
thinking, she climbed down, hurried forward, and called to the overseer. Nash
handed the reins over to Joab and told the children to be still until he got
back. He then went after his headstrong wife.

On
the edge of a fallowed field, a slave sat with heaving breath after the
overseer had released her. She stared up at him with large frightened eyes. She
was an elder woman, with long ebony tresses streaked gray. Her body looked thin
as a reed under her clothing, and likely to break with the first hard wind. Her
dress was torn at the sleeve and worn, once having been fine now a castoff from
the master’s household. 

Rebecah
stopped in front of the overseer and he dragged off his hat. “Morning, ma’am.”
His teeth were black with rot and his face leathery.

“I
saw how you were treating this unfortunate woman. Must you handle her so roughly?”

He
shifted on his feet. “Well, I don’t mean…”

“Does
your master approve?”

 “I
see you’re English, ma’am…”

“That
matters not. What you are doing is wrong.”

“You
don’t know our ways well enough to judge, meaning no disrespect since you are
obviously English. Sometimes I have to use a heavy hand.”

 Rebecah
turned to the woman. “Is there anything I can do to help? Are you sick?”

The
slave shook her head. “I’ll be right as rain, mistress.” 

The
overseer slapped his riding crop in his hand. “Ain’t proper for you to speak to
the lady,” he said with an angry look. The woman shrunk back.

Rebecah
dared to lay her hand on the woman’s boney shoulder. “Could she not rest awhile
under the trees in the shade and have some water?”

The
overseer was aghast at her audacious behavior. “No, she can’t. And I’ll be glad
if you get back to your wagon and not poke your nose in my business.” He nudged
the slave woman. “Go on, Maddie. Get to your churching with the others.”

Maddie
ambled away with her hands clenched at her breast. Rebecah watched her. Nash
put his hand on his wife’s shoulder and spoke to the overseer. 

“It
would be wise to have a doctor look at these people from time to time.”

“My
employer does his best. Tell you something though. He intends to sell,
including that one, if you want her.”

“I
do not own slaves.”

“You
got one there,” the overseer said, pointing his crop at Joab.

“He’s
a freeman,” Nash told him. 

“That
so? Well, you could use a serving woman for your lady. Maddie won’t cost much.”

“I’ll
consider it.”

“You
do that.” The overseer tipped his hat. “Enjoy your Sunday.”

He strode
off smacking his crop against his thigh.

Rebecah
bore her stare into him, until Nash drew her away.

* * *

Fredericktown
was full of people. Horses, wagons, and carriages lined the streets. Townsfolk
were attired in their Sunday best. On Church Street the Nash’s were met outside
All Saints Church by a cluster of people. They were in time for the service. Joab
brought the children inside, and was sent up to the balcony. Slaves, freed
blacks, and orphans sat in low wooden benches.

The
interior of the sanctuary was aglow with candles. Hymns were sung, and a
baptism preformed, followed by the sermon of Jesus and the fishes and loaves.
The church was quiet, and Rebecah felt the eyes of certain people glancing over
at her from time to time. She moved closer to her husband, slipped her arm
through his.

Soon
the parishioners were sent home. Nash introduced her to those lingering behind.
Congratulations and handshakes were plentiful.

One
of the deacons wives approach Rebecah and introduced herself.  Mrs. Jacob Finch
was her name, a well-liked and well-respected woman in her late sixties.

“We
gave up English cloth long ago, Mrs. Nash. But I must say your gown is quite
lovely, a beautiful color as I’ve ever seen.”

Rebecah
felt her cheeks redden. “How was I to know, Mrs. Finch? I hope I’ve not offended
anyone.”

“No
offense. You see, we have not seen cloth like that in a long time. It is truly a
treat. We hold a spinning school in the church each Saturday afternoon in order
to make our own cloth,” the gray-haired woman said. “It’s homespun, but we wear
it as a symbol.”

“A
symbol?”

“Yes,
of our determination to be independent. It is a way of fighting for our rights.
Some people call it
freedom cloth
.” 

“Do
slaves also spin and weave it as well?” Rebecah asked innocently.

With
a smile of sincerity, she leaned closer and whispered, “I’m afraid not. We must
pray to God the slaves have their freedom cloth someday.”

Rebecah
nodded. “I hope so, Mrs. Finch.”

“Your
husband holds the same opinion?”

“Yes,
and if you will excuse me, I must join him.” 

While
she walked away, the younger women looked on with noticeable glances of envy.
Nash was a handsome man, and no longer available. Rebecah’s attire was nothing
they had ever owned.

Outside
on the cobbled sidewalk he said to Rebecah, “Boyd tells me Adele and Gus have a
bachelor uncle in Annapolis. Apparently, he is a rich man. No doubt he’ll see
his duty and want the children home with him.”

Rebecah’s
heart sunk. “I don’t want them to go, but I shall accept whatever is right for
them. Perhaps this gentleman would see how well they do and will allow them to
stay with us.”

Nash
tipped his tricorn hat to passing ladies. “Boyd thinks the uncle may not want
the children to live with him. He may separate Adele and Gus by sending them away
to school.”

Rebecah
looked at him grieved. “Why? That would be cruel.”

“Some
people favor their social standing above their own family.”

“If
that is the case, we must do what we can to convince him to leave the children with
us.”

Through
the church doors stepped Theresa, dressed in a sage-colored dress and brimmed hat.
She made her way through the people to the Nash’s. Nash turned and helped her down
the last step.

“Come
to the house for supper. Our cook has made a fine roast.”

“We’d
be glad to. I’ve business with your father at his office. I’ll join you both
later.” He kissed his wife’s hand and headed off.

Gus
stretched his fingers out to Rebecah, tossed his arms around her neck and
squeezed. She kissed his cheek, and he put his chubby hands against her face. He
was hers—hers to love and care for, as was Adele, even if it were only for a
while.

Joab
moved the wagon on, and she watched it until they turned onto Market Street and
were out of view. She sighed and Theresa looped her arm through hers. Together
they strolled toward the Boyd house.

By
virtue of her beauty and sprightliness, that she was English born and married to
one of Frederick County’s most prominent men, people stared as she walked by.
The men tipped their hats and smiled. Mrs. Cottonwood and her clutch of
daughters, walked passed her with heads held high.

“They
dislike me, Theresa.”

“Pay
no mind to them,” Theresa replied.

“Is
it because I’m English? Is that why they hate me?”

Theresa
sighed. “People are quick to judge the English these days. However I believe it’s
because you married Captain Nash.”

She
passed a bush and pulled off a leaf. “But they don’t know me.”

“They’re
jealous. Can you blame them? He’s ever so handsome, and owns one of the
prettiest tracks of land in Maryland. You must have stolen his heart at first
sight.”

“I
admit he stole mine.”

While
they walked along Rebecah unfolded the story of their romance. But soon a booming
voice drowned out the words. Standing on a wooden bench, clenching his fists
and beating them in the air, stood a darkly clad man.

 “Jezebels
are among us!” he cried.  

The
veins on his neck and forehead stood out so clear and blue they looked ready to
burst. 

“Jezebels,
I say, and heed my warning. They come from England. They come from France. They
come to defile your beliefs in liberty. They come to defile your menfolk with
their charms and rob them of their fortunes. These are she-wolves in ewes’
clothing.”

Theresa
took Rebecah by the arm. “Let us move on, Rebecah. He speaks senseless
prattle.”

But
Rebecah hesitated.

“King
George has his men to debate and politicize and enslave us beneath his rule.” Spittle
oozed and foamed in the corners of the man’s mouth. “The Queen has her minions
as well to weave their snares.”

“I
agree with him concerning the King. But he accuses the Queen too harshly,”
Rebecah whispered.

“It’s
to stir up the people,” Theresa told her.  “He wants trouble. Let’s move on.”

“These
deceivers come to our county from gentry stock. We mustn’t allow them to
undermine our determination, or to worm their way into our society, a society
we mean to build upon the sweat of our brows and the blood of our patriots.”

He bellowed
fire and brimstone, his smutty cravat loose about a sinewy neck. His piercing
eyes latched onto Rebecah. He pointed a bony finger straight at her.

“Yes,
you’re right, Theresa.” And she moved on with Theresa beside her.

“See
there,” the man shouted. “One is among you.” Heads turned. Rebecah’s breath
caught. 

Nash
rounded the corner with Mr. Boyd.

“Here,
sir!” he shouted back. He moved with Mr. Boyd through the crowd. “You dare accuse
that lady? Who are you?”

“The
name is Pike.” The slanderer dropped his hand and drew back his shoulders. “And
I do dare to accuse any woman who is of the Devil.”

Before
the words were out of Pike’s mouth, Nash grabbed him by the breast of his coat.
No one in the crowd interfered, but stood in rapture of what was to happen
next. 

“Say
it to my face again, Pike, and you will regret it!” Nash warned.

“I’ve
no quarrel with you.”

“The
woman you slander is my wife. You’ll apologize and leave our town.”

“There’s
no crime in what I say. I pity you for the situation you’ve gotten into. From
what I hear, she married you within days of her arrival, in a barn, not a
church, beneath a full moon.”

Nash
stared at him. “We were bound in marriage by a man of God, beneath God’s heaven.”

Boyd
stepped forward, as did the other men of the town.  “Your sheep’s clothing is
ease to detect,” Boyd said.  “The good people of this town will not tolerate
you. Though most of us are loyal to
The Cause
, we will not have you
slander our women. I suggest you do as Captain Nash demands.” 

Nash
released his grip. Pike smoothed the front of his coat. “Signs of enchantment
and witchcraft.”

The
next thing Pike felt was Nash’s fist square across his jaw. He stumbled back
and fell into the street. “I shall yield to your assault. It’s obvious you’ve
no ears to hear. But the truth shall be revealed, and I hope not a moment too
late.”  

With
a lift of his head, Pike dusted off his coat, and turned himself out into the
crowd. People scoffed and told him to hurry on his way. Words like
mocker,
blasphemer,
and
crazed lunatic
were spoken as he passed by.

A
tear ran down Rebecah’s cheek. She brushed it away thinking it were silly for
her to be so hurt. She looked across the street to see her husband coming
toward her. His steps were deliberate, his look grave and concerned. 

“The
man’s a fool!” Nash said, anger still burning in his eyes.

“Indeed he is. I don’t
think he’ll be back.” Boyd drew up alongside the Nashs. “Now let us get to our
supper before it grows cold. Our cook has an apple pie waiting.”

Annapolis, October

Not
once had Rebecah mentioned the odd speaker and his flaming accusations. Her
husband’s hand in hers was enough to ease her. Everything they had been through
brought them closer together. And new challenges faced them.

Lord
Dunmore had dissolved the House of Burgesses in Virginia for voting aid to
Boston, inflaming every patriot from the Carolinas to Maine. Dare he support
the starvation of men, women, and children? Dare he condone to cut them off and
hold them hostage? To force the people of Boston to suffer was unthinkable, and
the governor of Maryland held his tongue against Dunmore.

A Continental
Congress was called. The Intolerable Acts were denounced. Boycotts on English
goods defied the Empire. The Americans violated the law by making more wool
rather than depend on English cloth. America struggled and clawed toward
liberty.

Yet
love was still in the world to bind up the wounds, to heal broken hearts, and
to comfort the distressed. John Wesley still preached in Britain, and the Gospel
was spreading in America. Amid the confusion of politics, a tidal wave of hope
and courage swept over the country.

The
sun burned bright, the sky a clear azure blue, as the Nashs’ coach rolled over
the sunlit road leading to Annapolis. The birds were singing in the trees
oblivious to the woes of man.