Through the Storm (35 page)

“In a small principality in North Africa,” Henri replied. “I’ve known Yuseff for many years. His eldest son Jamal attended university in Paris with Raimond and Galeno.”

Galeno looked at Raimond and said, “How do you think our old friend Ezra Shoe likes Africa?”

“Probably hates it,” Hester said with a giggle.

Raimond noted the confusion on Sable’s face and explained, “Ezra Shoe was once a slave catcher. Back in ’59 he stole Hester’s free papers, kidnapped her, and tried to take her south and put her back on the block.”

“But Galeno and Raimond rescued me,” Hester declared triumphantly.

Galeno took up the tale. “Rather than kill Shoe for trying to abscond with my lady love—”

“Which is what I wanted to do,” Raimond interrupted Galeno to point out.

Galeno grinned. “We came up with a slightly more novel punishment. We shipped him to Jamal as a present. Our old friend is always in need of someone to clean his stables.”

Sable’s eyes widened, “Truly?”

“Truly,” Hester replied.

Juliana said, “I thought it very apropos in light of the man’s nasty occupation.”

“How do you know he won’t try and escape?” Sable asked.

“Because death is the penalty for escaped slaves there.”

“He’s a slave, now?”

Raimond nodded. “If he thought the block was good enough for Hester, we thought he deserved a taste of it himself.”

The next day, Raimond sat at his desk at the Freedmen’s Bureau and wondered how much longer he could stomach working on its behalf. In his hand was a directive from Bureau Commissioner General O.O. Howard. It bore the name Howard Circular 15, but everyone with an ear to the wind knew the volatile decree had come directly from President Johnson’s White House. The edict essentially returned all confiscated land to its original owners. As a consequence, all land deeds held by Black freedmen were no longer valid.

Raimond found the news absolutely stunning. He knew President Johnson had spent most of the summer using his power of pardon to restore lands and plantations to the men who’d been Union enemies less than four months earlier, but he’d never thought it would come to this. The Louisiana bureau alone had leased over sixty thousand acres to freedmen. Black freedmen
in Tennessee were leasing sixty-five thousand acres. General Sherman’s Special Field Orders No. 15, which he had issued in January 1865, had settled forty thousand contrabands on lands that stretched from the Sea Islands south to Jacksonville. Each head of household had been given a plot of land to homestead, as much as forty acres each, and a possessory title whose final disposition was to have been decided by Congress.

All total, the Freedmen’s Bureau had 850,000 acres of confiscated land under its control. Now, thanks to Lincoln’s successor, it did not appear the land would remain under Black stewardship for much longer.

What did the politicians expect Blacks to do? Already the military was being used in many cities, Richmond among them, to keep freedmen from entering. Hundreds of people were being rounded up by the local authorities and transported back into the countryside. In Charleston, freedmen had been ordered to leave the city and seek work opportunities in the rural areas. Never mind that those who’d attempted to find employment in the rural areas had been beaten and killed for their efforts by revenge-seeking Rebels, the city officials wanted them out of sight. Many freedmen were being told they could either sign work contracts or face jail sentences for insubordination. Contracts that offered one-tenth or one-twentieth percent profit for a full year’s work of planting and harvesting were being declared valid by unscrupulous bureau agents who had only the planters’ best interests in mind.

Raimond firmly believed that many Black homesteaders, especially the war veterans, would arm themselves and refuse to be run off land they’d been told was their own. Owning land was the measure of a free man, and these men would die fighting to keep what was theirs.

Chapter 13

L
ike everyone else, Sable was stunned by Circular 15. Obviously President Johnson had not taken the race’s concerns to heart. Already in New Orleans patrols were beginning to act upon the change in policy, herding freedmen into wagons and taking them from the city. Last week, a woman who’d come to New Orleans searching for her husband, who’d never returned after the war, had finally found him just as he was being carted away along with dozens of other men. She’d run after the wagon screaming for the driver to stop, but he’d never even slowed. Her efforts to find out where her husband and the others were being shipped had been met by a wall of silence from the military and indifference from the city fathers. The Freedmen’s Bureau had eventually intervened and learned he’d been sent to a plantation out past the city where he and the others would be forced to sign work contracts heavily weighted in the planter’s favor.

Sable’s main concern was the children living on the streets. They, along with the aged and infirm, constituted the most vulnerable members of the race. She’d intensified her efforts to gather up as many as she could before they were hunted down by the military and placed with planters who could legally hold them in thrall for the rest of their lives.

She was particularly concerned about a group of three children whose small, unconventional family was headed by a twelve-year-old manchild named Cullen, one of the most intelligent and resourceful boys Sable had ever met. Finding them on the street was difficult; they were like wraiths, sleeping in trash piles, abandoned buildings, beneath wagons. Cullen kept his sisters fed by begging coins in storefronts, stealing produce down at the market, and rifling through scraps in the alleyways behind restaurants. She’d yet to hear the story of how he and his two sisters, Hazel and Blythe, came to be in New Orleans all alone, and it was possible she never would. Unless she found them.

She spent the day scouring Freetown, the schools, the churches, and every other place where freedmen congregated, but all to no avail. As evening approached, a despondent Sable asked her driver to take her through the business district one more time in the hope Cullen was begging coins for a meal or being fed scraps by one of the restaurant cooks. She found nothing.

She was particularly worried because she hadn’t seen the three children in over a week, whereas she usually came across them at least twice in the course of seven days. She always tried to convince the fiercely independent Cullen to come and live within the safe confines of the orphanage, but he would always decline, saying he could take care of himself and the girls.

He had up until now, but he was of prime age to be kidnapped and sent to work. Sable knew he was intelligent enough to be aware of that fact. So far he had avoided the nets, but the situation for young boys like himself had grown decidedly more dangerous of late, and she would feel better if she knew he were safe.

When Sable stepped out of the hack in front of Juliana’s house, she froze at the sight of Cullen, Hazel, and Blythe seated on the steps. Beside them stood a worried-looking Juliana and a silent but concerned-appearing Raimond.

As she approached, Cullen stood. He was brown-skinned, tall, and painfully thin. Although he claimed to be only twelve years of age, he had the eyes of someone much older, eyes that had known ageless sorrow.

“Good evening, Cullen,” she said. “Did someone tell you I’d been searching the city for you and the girls?”

“No, but Hazel’s bleeding, Miss Sable, and we can’t make it stop.”

Sable gave Juliana and Raimond, who were listening, a quick glance before she stooped in front of Hazel. “Where are you bleeding, sweetheart?”

“Between my legs, ma’am.”

Sable looked at her sturdy brown legs and saw dried blood streaking them. “How long have you been bleeding?”

“Just a day or two.”

Sable knew from previous talks with these children that Hazel and Cullen were twins and that Blythe was two years younger. Hazel’s age made Sable suspect the bleeding stemmed from the onset of her monthly courses but she couldn’t be sure. “Have you ever bled like this before?”

She shook her head no.

“Did you fall or get hurt somehow?”

Once again, no.

Sable helped the youngster stand and turned to Cullen. “You were right to bring her here, Cullen. It’s her woman’s blood. The bleeding will stop in a few days. In the meantime, I’d like to get her cleaned up.”

He held Sable’s eyes. “I didn’t trust anyone else.”

“Thank you,” she replied quietly. She knew from her experience with him that it had probably cost his pride dearly to admit to needing help. In the short time she’d known him he’d never come to the aid shelters for anything. He seemed bent upon relying only on himself. “Will you and the girls stay for supper?”

He looked first to Raimond and then to Juliana, as if evaluating them, then nodded.

Sable and Little Reba took the girls upstairs while Juliana went in search of something clean for them to wear. Their departure left Raimond and a silent Cullen alone in the parlor.

Raimond did not know what to make of this proud-looking manchild. He and his mother had come home to find the three seated on the porch steps. In answer to their questions, Cullen had asked first if Miss Sable would be coming there today. When Raimond replied that she would be, Cullen said they would wait. Neither he nor the girls said another word. When Juliana offered to bring them something to eat, Cullen declined. It seemed the only thing they wanted was Sable.

Now Cullen stood off to the side observing Raimond from unwavering eyes. Raimond motioned him to a seat.

The boy declined. “No. We both know I’m too dirty to sit on the furniture. I will stand.”

Judging by the look and the smell of him, he hadn’t had a bath in some time. “How about a bath while the girls are taking theirs?”

“No, thank you.”

Raimond reiterated his offer, this time in a firmer voice. “How about a bath while the girls are taking theirs?”

Apparently Cullen had no problem interpreting Raimond’s tone, though pride still shone strong in his eyes. “That would be fine, sir.”

Upstairs, Juliana had no female clothing that fit the girls, but she gave them each a too-big gown and robe. The fine material flowed like a river around them when they walked, making the girls giggle, their eyes sparkling. After Sable explained to the now-clean girls all about Hazel’s bleeding, Little Reba put a tired Hazel to bed. Sable and Blythe went down for supper. Awaiting them stood a freshly scrubbed and stoic Cullen wearing a shirt and trousers that had once belonged to a young Phillipe LeVeq.

Like most Black children, Cullen and Blythe were polite and respectful. Every adult at the table could see that Cullen wanted to ask for more food once he’d cleaned his plate, but pride apparently kept him from expressing the desire.

Raimond told him, “Cullen, there is plenty if you’d like another helping.”

“No, sir.”

“Are you certain?” Juliana asked.

“Yes, ma’am.”

No one pressed him any further.

When the meal was over, Cullen said to Blythe, “Go change your clothes and get Hazel. Tell her it’s time to leave.”

“She’s sleeping,” Sable told him.

“Will you wake her, please? It’s late.”

“Yes, it is, so why not stay here for tonight?”

“We can’t. Blythe, go fetch your sister.”

Raimond stopped Blythe with a gentle hand on her shoulder. “My mother has plenty of space. You and your sisters are more than welcome to stay.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“We can’t.”

Sable admitted, “Well, they’ll have to stay because I put their clothes in the trash bin, Cullen. I can’t visit the shops to replace them until they open tomorrow.”

In response to his tight expression, Sable could only reply, “I’m sorry, Cullen. Their clothing was full of lice. I couldn’t let them put the dresses on again, not in good conscience.”

Sable saw him glance Raimond’s way before returning his attention to her. “If I leave my sisters here for a while,” he said, “will you see to their care?”

Sable held his dark gaze. “Explain, please.”

“It is becoming more and more dangerous in the city. If I am kidnapped, my sisters will have no one. I’d prefer they live with you.”

Before she could answer, Raimond drawled, “Only if you agree to stay here with them. If not, they’ll have to take their chances on the streets with you.”

Sable knew her eyes must be as wide as saucers. Juliana’s certainly were.

The two males warily evaluated each other.

Finally, Cullen replied, “I insist upon a contract.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” Raimond answered coolly. “Shall we retire to the study?”

He gestured and Cullen followed him out.

The negotiations lasted until very late that night. Little Reba took in cognac and coffee for Raimond and lemonade for Cullen.

Sable put Blythe to bed in one of the spare bedrooms, then joined Juliana keeping vigil in the parlor. “Does Raimond know what he’s doing?” she asked.

“Apparently he does. He would not make such an offer if he had no plans to honor it. Your question should really be, are you ready to be a mother to three?”

“I don’t believe anyone is ever ready to take on three new children all at once, but I’ve already accepted them into my heart. So I believe my answer is yes.”

Sable and Raimond decided to stay at Juliana’s for the night and take the children to their new home in the morning. Now, seated together on the loveseat on the verandah of Raimond’s old bedroom, Monsieur and Madame LeVeq watched the moon rise and talked about the three new additions to their family.

“What in the world have I done?” Raimond asked with a small chuckle.

“Opened your heart so it could encompass three orphaned souls.”

He rewarded her by kissing her brow. “Cullen insisted that everything be set down on paper—everything from arrangements for the girls’ schooling to when he could come work for me at the shipyard. Amazing
young man. Wanted me to write down that he could begin learning to read tomorrow.”