by Zina Abbott
“All right, Virginia. I expect an explanation for your being here.”
“If that is your attitude, Jefferson, you will not get one.” Virginia started towards the door. “I’m ready to go to the mercantile now.” Out of the corner of her eye, she watched him reach for Hannah’s hand. Unfortunately, Hannah’s attention now focused on the interaction between the two adults. Virginia tightened her lips. Under no circumstances would she say anything as long as her niece listened in. She did not need the child to report the conversation to the rest of the family once they arrived home.
Virginia stiffened as Jefferson grabbed her elbow. To the outside world, it appeared to be a gentlemanly gesture intended to help her balance as she negotiated the doorway and boardwalk with her hoop skirt. She realized that in reality, his hold could quickly turn into a means of physical control. She held up her head and faced forward as they walked towards the mercantile. Gradually, Jefferson’s grip on her elbow eased, and she heard his breathing grow more relaxed.
“Virginia, I’m your brother. I am not your enemy. Why are you being so difficult about this?”
If I was a man, I would be determined. Because I am a woman, I am being difficult.
Virginia glanced at Hannah, who still eyed the adults with curiosity. “Now is not the time, Jefferson. Perhaps when we are alone.”
They arrived at the mercantile, where Virginia picked out a few items and placed them on the counter.
“You made an issue of coming all the way to Columbia to buy only this? Most of it I could have gotten for you in Boonville.”
“It was the other matters I needed to see to that could not have been taken care of in Boonville.”
As Jefferson shook his head in disgust and reached for his money pouch, Virginia held up her hand to stop him. “I do not intend for you to be put out more than you have been by paying for my items, Jefferson. I will pay for them myself.” As she pulled some coins from her reticule and counted out what was needed, she ignored the look of incredulity on her brother’s face.
“Where did you get money to pay for your own purchases? You have not been working a wage-earning job.”
Virginia ignored the raised eyebrow of the clerk. Virginia turned to her brother and whispered to him through gritted teeth. “Must you create a scene everywhere I go? I have the funds to pay for my own purchases. Instead of questioning everything I do, you should be relieved that, in this instance, I am not being a financial burden to you.”
Forcing a weak smile, Virginia turned back to the clerk to finish her transaction. She ignored Jefferson as he threw his arms in the air and turned away from her. He motioned for Hannah to take his hand, and the two started out the door.
Virginia followed several feet behind. The more the realization settled on her she needed to share at least part of her plans with Jefferson, the more her feet dragged. She knew he and the rest of the family would not be happy to learn of her intentions for her future. She really did not wish to inform them this soon. It was too early in her planned timeline—a timeline she had worked out three years ago that had been all but decimated by the decisions of her brothers to sell their farm in Boonville and move to the frontier of Kansas Territory.
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Chapter 7
~o0o~
Road between Columbia and Boonville, Missouri – early December, 1858
I n spite of Jefferson having paid for a room for her and Hannah while he settled for a cot in the common men’s room of the hotel, Virginia had not slept well. Now, as they rode in silence toward home, she considered it was only a matter of time until Jefferson once again demanded answers. She knew, no matter how she explained things, he would fail to understand and accept the direction in which she wished to guide her life. She could only attempt to guard her tongue as much as possible to avoid more contention.
When I tell them, it will create hard feelings among my family. It matters not to them if I have any hard feelings.
The sun shone brightly that day, almost blinding Virginia. She welcomed its weak warmth and the lack of wind. The heated bricks beneath her feet had cooled, but the wool blanket draped over both hers and Jefferson’s shoulders, along with the heavy winter clothing, kept her warm. If the probability that Jefferson would once again question her did not loom over her head, the journey would have been pleasant and relaxing for Virginia.
Virginia realized Hannah’s play-talk to her dolly ceased. She turned to see her niece snuggled down in a nest of blankets, sound asleep. Next, Jefferson twisted to check on his daughter.
“All right, Virginia. She’s asleep, and we are alone. I don’t care for you implying that I consider covering your purchases a financial burden. I’m happy to pay for what is reasonable, as long as I have the funds.”
Virginia looked down at her mitten-covered hands folded inside her cloak. “I appreciate you covering many purchases I request, Jefferson. However, since I had the funds to cover what I chose to buy today, I felt it unnecessary for you to have to pay for them.”
“I would like you to tell me where you got your money, as well as what is going on with you. What were you doing in a bank in Columbia when we have a perfectly good bank in Boonville? How are you earning enough money that would require you to seek the services of a bank?”
“I have picked up some paying jobs, Jefferson.” She stopped and smiled. “Nothing nefarious or morally degrading in nature, I assure you.”
Jefferson shook his head. “Where? I’m not aware of any work you have done outside the family. And, even if you have worked to earn pin money, I cannot see you making enough to justify depositing it in a bank.”
“I do not question your financial transactions, Jefferson. I do not demand to know when and where you sell your beef, or if you received a good price for your wheat, or whether you plan to plant beets or turnips. I see no reason I need to account to you for the money I earn.”
“You’re right about one thing. How Sidney and I manage the farm is none of your concern.” Jefferson turned and shook his finger in her face. “However, you are my concern also, and you are being evasive. I am your guardian.”
Virginia straightened her spine and glared at him. “You are my brother, but you are no longer my guardian. I have been of age for over a year now.”
“You still live in my home. You still eat my food.”
“Yes. Food, much of which I helped Carlotte grow, harvest, can, and dry. There was also the meat you butchered we helped preserve. Of course, no matter how long and hard women work and how much they contribute to providing for the family, their efforts are typically seen by men as lacking—as if men fear they will lose their power and status within the family if they cannot maintain the position of being the majority provider who works the hardest and contributes the most.” Virginia paused, exhaling in frustration. “If you feel I am not doing enough, I’m not carrying my weight in the family sufficient to deserve living in your house without feeling obligated to you for everything, say so, Jefferson. I’ll find someplace else to live. I’ll move out.”
Jefferson huffed in annoyance. “Of course, I know how much you women do. But, no, you will not move out on your own. A single woman loses her reputation if she does not live with family. You know that.”
“I know that is what society has decreed, but I do not agree with that dictum. I consider it another form of controlling and confining women.”
“You talk like you think I’m your jailor. Is your opinion of me so low?”
Virginia jerked her head and faced her brother. “You are a man, Jefferson. You and Sidney are the best of men. However, as men, you consider it your right and duty to be a confiner and a controller of women—to box us in and dictate to us the appropriate activities in which the women and children in your lives may participate. You are a farmer. Even though it is a common occupation, it is your choice to be a farmer. If you wished to be a storekeeper or a doctor, you could work towards tho
se goals and it would be socially acceptable to all around you. However, as a woman, the only acceptable occupation for me is to assist in caring for the home of my parent or guardian, and then to become a wife and mother, to bear children, care for my husband’s home—not my home. The lack of a woman’s right to call the house she lives and works in hers, as was made clear when Papa died. Mama only had the use of a portion of the home and property until she died.” Virginia reached up and fingered her locket. “I was fortunate Papa left me two pieces of Mama’s jewelry, because everything else went to you and Sidney. The law did not obligate him to leave me anything. The law did insist a man be appointed as my guardian.”
“Of course. Someone had to take care of you. Our mother was allowed to care for you until she died.”
“Yes, and eventually after you came of age, you were named guardian. You may think I don’t remember the legal battle you and Mama engaged in to get rid of the first guardian—the probate judge’s friend who robbed the farm of a percentage of the profits—but I paid attention, and I knew. In fact, it was after that incident when I seriously began to realize the extent to which men, even good, moral men, will bend the laws of both God and man to gain and maintain control over others—especially women and children—for their own benefit.”
“Is that how you think of me, Virginia?”
“No, but there is no doubt you expect unending gratitude and acknowledgement that I am beholden to you for you allowing me to live in your home—a house that once belonged our parents. You have a right to claim it as yours. Now I’m of age, I’m there by sufferance.”
Jefferson shook his head. “I never intended for you to think you were not welcome in our home, Virginia. It is too bad you have turned down your opportunities to marry and have your own home. Spinsterhood does not become you.”
“That’s because I have my own thoughts and desires for my life that do not always conform to yours. For one thing, like most men, you believe the only desirable option for me is marriage and family. Have my own home? I would never have my own home, not unless I either managed to earn enough money as a single woman and bought one, or I was willed one with specific conditions that it remain outside the control of a husband. I might own one if I was a widow of a progressive man who left the entire property to me. Otherwise, as long as a woman has a living husband, all of the house and property is his.”
“You are nit-picking. You think I don’t regard our home as much Carlotte’s as mine? I do.”
“Then I am happy for Carlotte. However, you make the final decisions whether she agrees or not. What if she did not want to go to Salina?”
“She knows the situation. This farm originally supported one family. Now it supports two. The more children Sidney and I have, and the older they get, the harder it is to provide well for everyone. We need to go where we can farm more land. It is better for us to be in a place where our boys can have greater opportunities to find their own good land once they grow up. Carlotta agrees it is good for us to move to Salina.”
“Hmm.”
Jefferson turned to study Virginia. “It is you who does not wish to go, am I correct?”
Virginia looked at her lap and shook her head. “No. I do not want to stay here, not with all the fomentation over the slavery issue. I also have no desire to move to Kansas Territory.”
“What are you saying, Virginia? You think Papa should have divided everything in equal shares among us so you could take your portion and go where you want to go?”
“Such a situation would have had its benefits for me. I don’t begrudge you and Sidney having enough land to support your families. But, if I was seen as an equal, instead of a dependent—a drain on your resources—you might have more respect for the things that are important to me.”
Jefferson sighed and shook his head. “I’m afraid to ask what these things are that you think are so important to you. If you want to have your own home so you are not dependent on a brother, why didn’t you marry Philo Carter? He certainly made an effort to court you.”
Virginia harrumphed. “I would be in Philo’s house working as his servant, bound to conform to his every whim. He made no secret he expects a meek, biddable wife. As you are aware, that is not my temperament. Besides, Jefferson, you know his family are vocally outspoken about the right of Southerners to own slaves. I abhor the practice. However, I doubt he would tolerate me expressing any opinion, let alone one that conflicts with his.”
Jefferson nodded in agreement. “You might be right. Still, he had a good farm and would have provided well.”
“He also would have been abusive. One Sunday after church, his younger sister laughed a bit too loud at something one of her friends said. Without excusing himself, he ran over and backhanded her on the face, all the while chastising the poor girl for behaving unseemly. It never occurred to him, I’m sure, that he conducted himself far more unseemly than she ever did. I knew then, if I married Philo, it would only be a matter of time until it was me he backhanded—or worse. That was when I suddenly developed severe headaches as an excuse to stop going to church or other social events until enough weeks passed for him to lose interest in me.”
“So, that’s what that was all about. You could have found someone else. There were other young men interested in you.”
Virginia laughed. “Oh, Jefferson, they only thought they were interested in me. They were interested in a wife to care for their home and provide them children. They cared nothing for the person I am. All I had to do was start an intellectual discussion and use large words around them. Before I knew it, they backed away from me. Men don’t like intelligent women.”
“Well, maybe you’ll find someone more to your liking after we move to Salina. Be smart enough to not say too much until after you marry and it’s too late.”
Virginia clutched her cloak and tensed. She failed in her attempt to keep the sharpness out of her voice. “In Salina? You mean for me to marry one of the farmers building soddies or a rudimentary cabin on land the hostile tribes think should still be theirs? You want me to look forward to a life where I must worry every second if that was the day for an attack by murdering savages who first commit all manner of desecrations?”
“It’s not that bad, Virginia. Remember that tribe that passed through just south of our land? All they wanted was safe passage across the river until they reached their destination. If I recall, once we found you and explained the situation, you became rather fascinated while watching the procession.”
Virginia reached inside her cloak and fingered her locket. “You’re right about that particular instance. They were quite a sight to behold.”
“See? You were getting hysterical about nothing.”
“Nothing? You say that, Jefferson, because you never bother to read the newspapers.”
“I don’t have the time. Besides, although I know you have a couple of subscriptions, you hide them in your room where no one else can read them.”
“Of course, I do. If you recall, I used to leave them out on a high shelf and invite the family to read them. I very particularly pointed out they were my papers, not to be destroyed or used for anything but reading. However, one night, too lazy to scrounge around the wood box for splinters to use for kindling to restart the fire, Otto grabbed one of my news journals instead. Since it became obvious the family does not respect my belongings, those things I care about, I no longer leave them out.”
“That was a few years ago. Perhaps you should forgive Otto.”
Virginia’s fingers fidgeted as she considered the advice. “If you think anyone will read them, I’ll set some of the older issues out and try again. If you decide you have the time and wish to read some of the more recent issues of what I subscribe to, I’ll bring them to you when we get home.”
“I’ll take you up on that, Virginia. I don’t see how you find the time to read newspapers all that much.”
“I do, and regularly, there are reports of settlers who are killed by the hosti
le tribes. Not the Kaw people we met up with, but those who have not made treaties with our government. It happens often enough I want no part of living that far west where there is even the possibility of an Indian attack. Even that shopkeeper in Bonner Springs where we stopped last spring told me, unlike the tribe that crossed by your land that one day, the Cheyenne are warlike and hostile to all whites who settle on what they consider their hunting territory. He named other tribes that are also very warlike. Besides, just because the men of the Kaw tribe did not threaten us did not mean they welcomed our presence on land that used to be vacant. If someone claims the land south of yours, who knows if they will remain peaceful if the owner tries to interfere with their travel?”
Jefferson turned to check in the back of the wagon. “Hold your voice down, Virginia. I don’t want you waking Hannah. More importantly, I don’t want you frightening her. We are going to Salina—all of us. I forbid you to fill the children with tales of horror about their new home.”
Virginia straightened and stared ahead of her. She forced her breathing to return to normal. “I won’t say anything to the children. Since you and Sidney are determined to go, and both Mima and Carlotte support you in your decision, I will not cause trouble by sharing my opinion or what I have learned about the region. But, understand and accept this, Jefferson. I will not be going with you.”
Jefferson jerked back on the reins and pulled the wagon to a stop. “What do you mean you will not be going with us? There is nowhere else for you to go.”
“Of course, there is somewhere else for me to go. You and Sidney are selling out and packing up to go somewhere else. Why shouldn’t I? It is just that I wish to move a different direction.”