by Lynn Austin
“I think we’d better leave Beaufort now, Missy Claire,” Kitty said.
“You’re right,” she whispered. But she didn’t move. Kitty had to take her arm and lead her gently into the house.
Kitty’s hands shook so badly as she helped Missy get dressed and fixed her hair that she could barely fumble through her tasks. All she could think about was getting out of town before enemy warships sailed past the forts and bombarded Massa’s house. It was only two blocks from the waterfront. Once the enemy got past the forts, the city was unprotected.
Grady drove the carriage around to the front of the house. Kitty and Minnie had to help him carry Missy’s heavy steamer trunk downstairs since there were no other male slaves to help him. The horses capered skittishly as they waited, frightened by the clamoring church bells and deafening bombardment. Grady stood by their heads, petting and soothing them as Kitty and Delia helped Missy Claire get settled inside the carriage. Kitty climbed in to sit beside her—something she’d never done. Neither of them looked back as they drove away.
They headed west out of town, then north across the island on the shell road. It seemed to Kitty that hours passed before the thundering explosions finally faded into the distance behind them. Refugees jammed the roads, all desperate to flee the now-deserted town. Missy’s carriage joined a huge exodus of people, rich and poor, white and slave. They drove all manner of vehicles, some rode on horseback, many traveled by foot. With all the ablebodied men fighting at the forts, the refugees were mostly women, children, and elderly men. Like Missy, they had to depend on their slaves to get them to safety.
Progress was fearfully slow, but when the carriage halted altogether and remained stalled for several long minutes, Missy grew upset. “Get out and see what the delay is,” she said. “I’m tired and uncomfortable and I need to lie down and rest.”
Kitty’s knees felt wobbly as she climbed out. Delia, Faye, and Grady stood beside the carriage, talking. “What are we stopping for?” she asked them.
“The Coosaw River is up ahead,” Grady said. “We have to wait for the ferry to take us across to mainland.”
“How long will that take?”
He shrugged. “Awful lot of people waiting. Missy’s gonna have to wait her turn.” He glanced back at the carriage, then motioned to Delia and Kitty to lean closer. “Listen, I’ve been talking to some of the others,” he whispered. “I think we should sneak off and hide in the woods until the Yankees come.”
“But we can’t desert Missy!” Kitty said. “Massa’s trusting us to keep her safe.”
“Shh … There’s plenty of other white folks to look after her,” Grady said. “I want my freedom.”
“You can’t run off!” Kitty said. “You’ll get caught!”
Grady gestured to the waiting crowd. “Look around you. There’s only women and old men left. They ain’t gonna go chasing us through the woods.”
Delia rested her hand on Grady’s arm. “I want my freedom, too, honey. But this ain’t the time or place. We ain’t off the island, yet. If Massa and them others chase the Yankees away, he’ll come looking for you next. You’ll be trapped, with no place to go. It ain’t worth the risk.”
Grady was still arguing with Delia when it was finally Missy’s turn to be ferried across the river. Kitty could feel the heat of his anger as she stood beside him onboard the ship, watching the mainland draw nearer. He was as tense as a wild animal, ready to bolt. She hoped Missy wouldn’t notice.
Hundreds of armed Confederate soldiers guarded the ferry dock on the other side. Kitty shuddered at the sight of them. But maybe Grady would change his mind now about running off.
Soon after their carriage got underway again, they passed through the town of Pocotaligo. More Confederate soldiers were stationed there to guard the railway line. “We’re almost home,” Kitty said aloud, still worried about Grady.
“How do you know where we are?” Missy said. “You’ve never been to Roger’s plantation before.”
“I know, Missy Claire. But Delia and Faye told me that it wasn’t far from that town we just passed—where the railroad station is.”
Missy had never been to her new husband’s plantation either, but as they drove up the long, shaded driveway and glimpsed it from afar, Kitty could tell by the astonished look on Missy’s face that it was even more splendid than she had imagined. The imposing two-story brick mansion was covered with ivy and shaded by moss-draped oak trees and palms. Kitty had thought that the Big House at Great Oak Plantation was huge, but this house was even larger and grander than that one. Flower gardens and broad green lawns surrounded the house, creating such a peaceful scene—as if the war didn’t even exist.
“That sure is a pretty house,” Kitty said. Her fingers itched to get out her paper and pencil and sketch it. Missy seemed too stunned to reply.
Several slaves hurried outside to unload Missy’s trunk and other belongings as soon as Grady pulled the carriage to a halt. Kitty followed behind her dazed mistress as Delia led them on a tour through the seemingly endless maze of rooms.
“The Fuller family just keeps adding onto this house over the years,” Delia explained. “That’s why it’s all spread out. They used to have a lot of company staying here back when Massa’s folks were alive … and before his first missus died. Massa Roger and his father both loved it out here. They done so much of their business from here that they added one whole wing just for all the gentlemen who come calling.”
Kitty wandered through room after room with the two women, gazing at all the beautiful furniture and books and dishes. But it was the oil paintings that fascinated her the most—landscapes and sailing ships and dozens of portraits of Massa’s relations. She could have stared at them for hours, but there wasn’t time. Missy wanted to rest after the long drive, so Kitty had to help her get settled first.
Later that night, Delia took Kitty outside to a neat row of whitewashed cabins, hidden behind the Big House, where she and the other house servants lived.
“That don’t look like enough slave cabins for a plantation this big,” Kitty said.
“This ain’t all of them,” Delia replied. “The field slaves is all living someplace else, out of sight. That way, Massa never have to lay eyes on the poor souls and see all the suffering that’s making him rich.” Delia gestured to the last cabin in the row. “Those two rooms is where Grady and me been living ever since he come here,” she said.
Kitty paused outside the door. “Are Grady and me still supposed to be married to each other?” she asked Delia.
“You are married,” she said. “Can’t change things now or Missy’s sure to find out. Suppose one of them scrub maids or serving girls accidentally says something? No, you’re gonna have to share my bed and Grady can sleep in the other room, like he always done.”
It seemed unfair to Kitty that the three of them had to crowd into two tiny rooms while Missy Claire lived all alone in a house that would hold dozens of people. But Kitty was safe from the cannon fire here. She was living with the two people she’d grown to love most in the world. For now, that was all that mattered.
Three days later, Massa Fuller arrived at the plantation on horseback. He looked so exhausted and dejected that he seemed to have aged ten years. “The Yanks were too strong for us,” Kitty heard him tell Missy Claire. “We had to evacuate both of the forts and ferry all our men across the river to the mainland.” He was clearly shaken.
Missy reached for his hand. “Thank God you’re safe, Roger. But what’s going to happen now?”
He sighed wearily. “The Yankees control Beaufort, Port Royal Island, and all of the neighboring Sea Islands. They’re probably not leaving anytime soon. But at least you’re behind Confederate lines. You’ll be safe here.”
“How long can you stay with me? I’m all alone out here, and I’m so frightened for you.”
“I can’t stay. I just came to make sure you were okay and to have a word with Walt Browning, my overseer.” He hesitated as if w
eighing whether or not to say more. Missy noticed.
“What’s the matter?”
He sighed again. “When all of the Sea Island plantations were evacuated, the owners had to leave thousands of their field slaves behind. Some of us are worried that the Yanks might arm them and turn them loose against us. I came to tell Browning to keep a close eye on my slaves.” He paused, then said quietly, “Martin and Jim both ran away to the Yanks.”
Kitty dreaded telling Grady the news later that night. But he had seen Massa Fuller arrive, and both he and Delia wanted to know what he’d said. Grady exploded with anger when Kitty told him that all the slaves on the Sea Islands were now in Yankee hands.
“See that? I should have run off, too! I’d be a free man right now!” he said.
Delia tried her best to calm him, but it was no use.
“Never again!” he vowed. “I don’t care what you say, next time I have a chance to be free, I’m going!”
Kitty watched him storm out of the door into the night and knew that a day would come when he wouldn’t return. Someday, Grady was going to walk out of that door and out of her life forever.
Chapter Fifteen
Fuller Plantation, South Carolina February 1862
On a cold, foggy winter morning, a small company of Confederate soldiers marched up the road to Massa Fuller’s door. “Oh, God,” Missy breathed when she saw them. “Not Roger … please …”
Kitty helped her mistress from her chair by the morning room fireplace, then ran to fetch a shawl for each of them. The new butler, Lewis, hurried to answer the door, but Kitty knew that Missy would want to go outside and talk to the soldiers herself. Her baby was due to be born any day, and she was so ungainly that she had to lean on Kitty’s arm wherever she went. She was also so irritable and short-tempered that Kitty sometimes wondered if chopping cotton down on Slave Row would be an easier job than working for Missy Claire.
“Good afternoon, Mrs. Fuller,” one of the soldiers said, sweeping off his hat, “I’m Captain Randolph. Sorry to trouble you, ma’am, but we’ve come for your horses.”
“My horses?”
“Yes, I’m afraid that the army needs them. I have a letter here from your husband, Colonel Fuller, authorizing us to requisition them.”
“You must be mistaken. My husband is a captain, not a colonel.”
“He received a field promotion, ma’am.” He removed a folded paper from his jacket as he spoke and handed it to Missy Claire. “You’ll be allowed to keep your farm mules for now,” the captain continued as Missy looked over the letter. “Your crops are very important to our cause, of course.”
Missy refolded the letter when she finished reading it. “Go fetch your husband,” she told Kitty.
“Yes, ma’am.” Kitty dreaded telling Grady. She knew how much he loved those horses. Now that he wasn’t driving Massa Fuller everywhere, he spent most of his time down in the stables taking care of them.
The fog seemed to muffle all the usual barnyard sounds and blur the outlines of the buildings as Kitty hurried down to the carriage house. The familiar landscape appeared alien and strange, like a scene drawn with a worn pencil, then smudged.
The brick stables and adjoining carriage house were neat and clean inside, pungent with the aroma of horses. The first time Grady had brought her here, Kitty had been surprised to see how beautiful both buildings were. The fancy woodwork that decorated the stalls was nearly as elegant as the woodwork up in the Big House. Grady said that before the war Massa Fuller liked to bring all of his gentlemen friends and visitors down here and show off his fine horses and carriages.
She found Grady leading Blaze from his stall to the corral behind the stable. “Missy wants to see you right away,” she said breathlessly.
“She needing a carriage?” he asked as he turned the horse loose.
Kitty shook her head, unwilling to say more. But as soon as Grady walked through the stable door and saw the soldiers in front of the Big House, he slowed his steps.
“What’s going on, Anna?”
She hated being the one to tell him. But maybe it would be better if he heard it from her instead of Missy Claire. He didn’t dare show any emotion in front of Missy. “The soldiers are needing more horses,” she said. “Massa Fuller say to take his.”
Grady halted, his expression a mixture of shock and pain. “How many? Which ones?”
“I don’t know. They gave Missy a letter from Massa Fuller, but I don’t know what it said.”
He started walking again, but his feet seemed to drag as he approached the waiting soldiers.
“Captain Randolph is requisitioning our horses for the Confederate cause,” Missy told him when he reached the house. “You will escort his men down to the stables and help them with whatever they need.”
Grady didn’t move. He stood with his head lowered, powerless. Kitty could only imagine the emotions he must be feeling as he faced this terrible loss. “Which horses, ma’am?” he asked.
“All of them.”
Grady closed his eyes. When he opened them a moment later, they smoldered with anger. “Excuse me, ma’am,” he said in a tight voice, “but how you gonna send to town for a doctor when your time comes if you ain’t got any horses?”
Missy drew a harsh breath. “How dare you!” she cried.
It would have been inappropriate for a white person to mention her condition in front of strangers, but for a mere slave to do so was scandalous. Kitty knew that the only reason Grady had spoken was because he loved his horses. He was desperate to save even one of them, if he could—most likely Blaze. But he had stirred up Missy’s temper in the process, and Kitty cringed, waiting for the explosion that was sure to follow.
“There are no longer any doctors in town,” the captain said quickly. “The Confederacy needed them, too.”
“Show these men to the stable,” Missy said coldly.
Kitty stayed with her mistress, aware of the tension and anger building inside Missy like a brewing storm. But Missy remained sweetly polite to Captain Randolph, who had stayed behind to chat with her while the rest of the men accompanied Grady.
“Any news of the war, Captain?” she asked. “I’m afraid I’m rather isolated out here. It’s nearly impossible to hear the latest news.”
Kitty listened intently, waiting for his reply. She and her fellow slaves knew even less about the war than Missy did. At least Missy saw an occasional newspaper and received letters from Massa Fuller and from her family in Charleston. But Missy never said a word to anyone about what they contained.
“Well, ma’am, I’m sorry to say that Nashville, Tennessee, just fell into enemy hands a few days ago. That’s the first Confederate state capitol we’ve lost. But we’re confident that we can win it back come springtime.”
It seemed to take a long time, but the soldiers finally emerged from the stable, leading all twelve of Massa’s magnificent horses by their bridles. Kitty recognized Grady’s favorite horse, Blaze, but there was no sign of Grady. He had stayed in the carriage house so he wouldn’t have to watch them go.
“Thank you, ma’am. Much obliged,” Captain Randolph said as he and his men took their leave.
Kitty shivered in the cool winter air. She wore only a thin shawl and was eager to return to her seat by the fireplace. Missy must be feeling the chill, too. But even after the men marched away, Missy didn’t move from the steps. “Go fetch your husband again,” she said. The angry way she spat out the word husband made Kitty afraid.
She couldn’t find him, at first. She wandered through the stable, calling his name until he finally emerged through the door to the corral, his face grief-stricken. “Missy’s asking for you again,” Kitty said. “Better come right away.”
Neither of them spoke as they walked back to where Missy stood on the front steps with Lewis beside her. Anger radiated from Grady like a bonfire. He halted in front of Missy with his head lowered, not uttering a word, not daring to look at her. But Kitty stole a glance at her m
istress, and her heart began to race when she saw the suppressed rage on Missy’s face, too.
“Your boldness in mentioning my condition will be punished with forty lashes,” Missy said.
“No!” Kitty cried. She swayed as her legs went weak with horror. She tried to drop to her knees to beg Missy not to whip Grady but he gripped her arm and held her up.
“Don’t,” he whispered.
“This morning’s incident also reminded me that you have failed to do the work that was required of you,” Missy continued. “Your wife was supposed to have a baby. Now it’s too late. Not only have you failed to produce a child, but it also seems that I no longer have need of a coachman. Since your work up here is finished, Lewis will take you down to Mr. Browning, the overseer. After you’ve been punished with forty lashes, Mr. Browning will make certain that you carry your weight as a field slave.”
Missy started to go inside, then turned back. “Oh, and from now on you will live on Slave Row, not with Kitty.”
Grady turned and strode away without waiting for Lewis.
Kitty was so stunned she couldn’t speak. She’d long been afraid that she would be punished for not having a baby, but she never dreamed Missy would punish Grady or send him away. During these past four months, he and Delia and Kitty had become a family in the little cabin they shared. Now Missy was ripping that family apart, just like Massa Goodman had torn her first family apart.
Kitty followed Missy inside, numbed with grief and shocked by Missy’s cruelty. She had done some mean things over the years, but this time Missy’s actions were indefensible. Kitty imagined the lash tearing across Grady’s scarred back, and for the first time, she understood his bottomless anger. He had married Kitty in order to rescue her, and now he was going to suffer for his kindness. Kitty fell to her knees in front of her mistress, clinging to her skirts.
“Please don’t whip Grady! Please, Missy Claire! It ain’t his fault that—”