Touching the Sky (16 page)

“Thank you, Father. Brandon Reid has said much the same.”

Her father’s expression turned serious. “You have spent a good deal of time in his company.”

Laura nodded. “I have.”

“Has he spoken to you of marriage?”

She was stunned at this bold question. “No. Has he spoken to you?”

Her father chuckled. “No, but it wouldn’t surprise me if he did.”

“I can tell his affections for me are growing. I see a certain look in his eyes—a gentleness in his mannerisms.” Laura’s thoughts drifted.

“Ah, then it is mutual love.”

She turned to her father. “Why do you say that?”

“I see a certain look in
your
eyes. It isn’t one that is easily concealed. My guess is that you have lost your heart to this young man.”

She nodded, feeling rather sheepish. “I suppose I have.”

“And if he were to ask for your hand . . . you would want me to give my blessing?”

She smiled. “I would.”

“Have you considered that such a thing might take you from Texas?” her father asked in a gentle manner.

It was the one thing Laura didn’t like to think about. She longed to see other parts of the country, even the world, but she had no desire to leave Texas permanently. “I suppose I haven’t dwelled for long on that possibility. Since Brandon has said nothing of making our courtship permanent, I suppose I have avoided such thoughts.”

“Still, it is something that must be considered. He’s from Indiana, and his family still hails from that state. It seems likely he would want to return. Especially now that he has resigned from his position in the army.”

Laura thought of the situation with Malcolm. “Do you think that Carissa is happy?” she asked without meaning to.

Her father grew thoughtful. “I suppose you are wondering if she’s happy because she married a Texan rather than someone from another part of the country.” Laura said nothing and he continued. “I would imagine she’s happy for such a choice. Although Malcolm is from the western reaches of the state, I believe he intends to remain in Corpus Christi.”

“What makes you suppose that?” Laura asked, trying to sound only slightly interested.

“Well, he has asked a great many of my friends—Union men—as to how he might show his support. He wants to put the war behind him and get involved in businesses that will benefit the state—even the country. I admire his desire to do so. He could be bitter like many of his former ranks, but Malcolm wants something more.”

Laura frowned and lowered her head to give a slight cough. She didn’t want her father to see her reaction. Malcolm wanted something more—of this she had no doubt. Unfortunately that something more involved murder and destruction.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me,” her father said, getting to his feet, “I have some reports to read before I retire.”

“I understand,” Laura replied. “I love you, Father. I hope you will always remember that, no matter whom I marry or where I go. You were the first man I loved, and you will always hold that special place in my heart.” She stretched up on tiptoe and kissed his cheek.

L
aura accompanied Esther to the poorest part of town and barely managed to hide her frown as Esther pointed to the shack that was her home. “My boys be in there awaitin’. I’s mighty happy ya comed to teach ’em to read.”

“Everyone should have that opportunity,” Laura said, trying not to reveal her distress over the conditions of the neighborhood. All around her garbage and animals littered the streets, while children of varying color played amid the debris.

Esther pushed open the unpainted wood door to her home. Laura imagined it afforded only the tiniest amount of security. The wood was thin and construction was poorer than any Laura had known. Inside the single room was a crude table by the window and two equally rough stools. A single chair was positioned by a small bed on the other side of the room.

“Shem, Ham, you knows Miss Laura,” Esther said, pointing to her two boys. “Shem, bring Miss Laura the chair.”

Laura hadn’t seen the boys since they’d accompanied their mother during the summer to help with the gardening. The seven- and six-year-olds looked up at her in wide-eyed amazement. No doubt they had never seen a white woman in their house before. Shem hurried to do his mother’s bidding.

“Your mother tells me that you would like to learn to read and write,” Laura said with a smile. “You two look smart, so I would imagine you will learn very fast. Just like your mama.”

Shem, the older of the two, positioned the chair by the table. “Ya’s gonna teach us for sure?” His voice held an awe that made Laura smile.

“Well, many schools have men for their schoolmasters, but I’m hoping you won’t mind having a lady teacher. I love to read, and I think you will love it, as well.” She took a seat and put her satchel on the table.

Ham scooted off an old wooden crate and came to where Laura stood. Light filtered in from the single opening where a window should have been. “You is pretty, Miss Laura.” He reached up as if to touch her hand, then drew back as if remembering such a thing was forbidden.

Laura would have no part of it. She reached out her hand and waited until the boy placed his tiny brown fingers in her palm. She smiled and closed her fingers over his. “I thank you for the compliment. Come, let’s get to work.”

Esther seemed far more at ease here in her own home than in the Marquardt kitchen. Studying at her own table, despite its deplorable condition, seemed to help Esther focus on her work.

She smiled at her boys. “Y’all do ever’thin’ Miss Laura say, and she teach ya to read.”

Two days before, Esther had approached Laura regarding her boys. Laura was pleased; Esther had proven herself a capable student and Laura hoped that as Esther continued to learn she could in turn teach her children. But for now, Laura was delighted Esther trusted her to instruct her sons. It fed Laura’s desire to go among the blacks and teach, though her mother and father would no doubt disapprove.

“George Davies say no black boy can learn to read. It against the law,” Shem declared.

Laura looked to Esther. The older woman shook her head. “George Davies be a no-account white trash boy. He mean as an ol’ cracker.” She seemed to be embarrassed by her words and lowered her face. “Pardon, Miss Laura.”

Laura had heard the term
cracker
before. It referenced the whip-cracking slave owners who often beat their slaves into submission. “That’s quite all right, Esther.” Laura opened her satchel and drew out two slate boards and chalk. “I brought these for you two to use. Your mama already has one, so now you can practice your letters, as well.”

The boys looked in wide-eyed amazement as Laura handed over the gifts.

“What ya say?” Esther prompted.

“Thank ya, Miss Laura,” the boys replied in unison.

“You are very welcome. I want you to forget all about the things that other people have said to you. You are smart boys—I can tell.” She picked up a piece of chalk. “Now I want to show you how to make the letter
A
.”

At the end of the hour, Laura packed up her things and got to her feet. “I’ll come again next Saturday,” she promised. “In the meantime, you boys keep practicing and don’t forget what you learned today. Try to find things that you think start with an
A
or a
B
.”

“Like apple?” the younger of the two boys asked.

“She done tol’ us that,” Shem chided.

“But he is right. Apple starts with
A
, and I’m proud of Ham for remembering that.”

Esther headed for the door. “Ham, ya needs to find yar Sunday shirt so’s I can mend it. Shem, ya peel dem ’taters. I’s gonna walk Miss Laura back to her carriage.”

The boys nodded and Laura threw them a smile. “I’ll see you next week.”

She stepped out of the clean but sparse house and into the sad little neighborhood. How she wished she could help the people there. The shantytown had been inhabited mostly by poor whites and Mexicans prior to the war. Now more and more blacks were moving into the neighborhood. Laura knew that even with this hint at independence there were high prices to pay. If she understood correctly, the colored people—especially the men—were required to have a white sponsor in order to live and work. She’d heard her father discuss this in brief with Brandon and decided she would have to ask one or both for more information.

“I’s mighty grateful for what yar doin’ for my boys,” Esther said as they walked. “Ain’t nobody since Miz Bryant what treated me so good.”

“Mrs. Bryant was the woman you were working for here in Corpus Christi?” Laura asked.

Esther nodded. “She and Mr. Bryant had theyselves a right fine plantation up around Austin way. They owned me and my Jonah since we was lil ’uns. They let us marry, and when I had babies Miz Bryant say we would always stay with ’em. Weren’t a lot of white folk that good.”

Laura looked at Esther. “How did you make your way to Corpus Christi?”

“Mr. Bryant, he died in the same epidemic what kilt my man and youngest boy. Miz Bryant sell the farm and freed the slaves, but she asked iffn me and the boys wanna come with her to Corpus Christi. We had nowhere else to go. Afore she die last April, she give me a little bit of money and tell me to go take care of my boys. It were hard, but I rented that little shack what ya saw and then did what I could to earn me some money. Then I come to work for yar family.”

“I’m so glad you did.” Laura truly meant it. She knew her father was a generous employer. His kindness to those he employed generally resulted in workers who went above and beyond the mere requirements of their tasks.

As they approached the safer reaches of town where Laura had left the buggy, she paused and looked at Esther. “I know life has not always treated you well, but you are doing a good thing for your boys and for yourself in learning to read. Your boys will find it much easier to get work if they have the ability to read and write. Perhaps they can even go on to college.”

Esther shook her head. “Bein’ able to read still ain’t gonna make they skin white. Ain’t no white man ever gonna respect ’em so long as they black. Change like that ain’t gonna come in my lifetime, not less’n we can touch the sky.”

Laura knew the sad truth of the woman’s words. “Perhaps in time, things will be different. We’ve already seen a great many changes, Esther. We must trust God to help us through.”

“God, He be all I got,” she said with a thoughtful smile. “He all I need. He faithful.”

Laura nodded. “So faithful.”

When Brandon arrived later that day, Laura was still thinking about Esther’s comments. Was there really so little hope that things could change in her lifetime? When she and Brandon stepped outside before supper, Laura found herself wanting to know what he thought.

“I have a secret,” she began.

Brandon looked at her with a raised brow. “A secret?”

She smiled. “I’m giving reading lessons to Esther and her sons.”

“Esther is the one who helps in the kitchen, isn’t she?”

Laura nodded. “She used to be a slave. She was one of the few fortunate enough to remain with her husband and children. But her husband died a couple of years back. She lost an infant, as well. She mentioned to me how much she wanted to learn to read, and so I agreed to meet with her each morning. Now we’re meeting just once a week. Trying to do it every day was too daunting.” Laura gauged his expression for disapproval but found none. She hurried to continue.

“I know your family was involved in helping slaves escape the South. Can you tell me more about it? How did you get involved?”

Brandon placed her hand in the crook of his arm and began to stroll the grounds. He was silent a moment before replying. “My father is a minister, as you know. He also raises some of the most beautiful Thoroughbred horses you would ever want to own.”

“I remember your mentioning that.” Laura smiled.

“Yes. His business as a horseman often took him south. He had many connections in Tennessee and Georgia. While there, he often saw the abuses going on. He would tell my mother and me how there were men who treated their horses better than their workers. Men who would never consider laying a whip to the back of a Thoroughbred would beat a Negro slave to death.” Brandon shook his head. “Some of his stories were appalling, and I will not repeat them.”

“I would not want you to dwell on the ugliness. Tell me instead what you did to help the slaves.”

“We worked with friends and managed to locate safe havens for those on the run. Sometimes my father would even hide runaways in his wagon. He was very nearly caught on more than one occasion, but God always seemed to shield the eyes of those slave hunters. My father said it was almost as if they became invisible.” Brandon paused and gave a chuckle. “He used to love to tell about the time he was heading home after having delivered a string of horses to a very harsh man in Georgia. He arranged to bring two young slaves—a husband and wife—back to Indiana with him. Unfortunately the owner found out the couple was missing and set out searching for them before my father got all that far.”

“What happened?” Laura asked, gripping his arm a little tighter.

“They caught up to my father, though the owner had no idea he was the one who had helped the runaways. The man figured the couple had used my father’s presence as a diversion and had probably run off in the night. He ranted and raved about what he was going to do to those two when he found them. When the dog handlers caught up with him, the hounds went crazy, baying at the wagon. My father thought for sure that he would be found out.”

“But he wasn’t?”

“No. The owner chided the driver for not controlling the animals. He reminded his men that only the night before Negros had been crawling all over that wagon loading some of the goods my father had purchased or taken in trade. This was especially true of the young man my father had helped to escape. He had been helping to stack the load and so of course his scent was all over that wagon.”

“How like God,” Laura said in amazement.

Brandon nodded. “The two were hidden in with the crates and no one was the wiser. Father even encouraged the owner to check the load, feeling confident that he would refuse, which he did. When Father arrived across the river in Indiana, he began to sing hymns of thanksgiving. But it wasn’t until he was safely on his own property that he began to relax.”

“Where did the slaves go after that?”

The day was fading and Brandon turned to guide them back toward the house, where the lights had already been lit. “We had friends who lived about twenty miles to the north of us. We would send the runaways on to them and they in turn had someone else they could send them to after that. It wasn’t easy, but it was the best we had to offer.”

“Were you ever found out?”

Brandon shook his head. “There were many close calls, but it was by God’s divine providence that we escaped mostly unnoticed. When I joined the army, I knew I wanted to work with some of those same men I’d helped to free.”

“And do you have any regrets?”

He stopped and looked at her. “Only that we saved so few. So many perished before getting to us or shortly after. They were malnourished and sick from being on the run. Some had severe wounds from beatings.” He shuddered and Laura put her hand on his cheek.

“You needn’t dwell on it further. I’m proud to call you friend—to know what you did to help your fellowman. That’s what I want to do, as well. I want to help the former slaves. The way I see it, the men in charge didn’t want the blacks to be able to read and write for fear of the power it would give them. Knowledge is power . . . power that can change lives. I want to help bring that about.”

Brandon raised her hand to his lips and kissed the back. “That’s only one of the many things I adore about you.”

She laughed, but the feel of his lips sent a delicious tingle down her spine. Laura felt weak-kneed and awkward.

“So . . . so you’ll keep my secret?” she asked.

“One among many.” Brandon looked up at the house and then back to Laura. “Have you had any further news on your brother-in-law?”

“None,” Laura admitted. “I’ve scarcely seen my sister or Malcolm. I talked briefly to my father last evening, but he hadn’t spoken to Malcolm, either. At least not recently. Father did mention a while back that Malcolm likes spending time with Father’s Unionist friends. He said Malcolm desires to see the city return to normal, but I think Malcolm is all talk. He most likely wants to be with my father and his friends for other reasons.”