Glimmers of Change

by Ginny Dye

  “Even with this law in place, things could get real bad, couldn’t they?” Polly asked.

  Abby exchanged a look with Rose before she turned back to everyone. “Yes,” she admitted. “I wish I could tell you differently, but I can’t. I’m sorry.”

  “We’re used to bad times,” Gabe said bluntly. He stood and turned to look at everyone in the room. “This Civil Rights bill is a good thing, but it doesn’t mean we can let down our guard. It’s still up to us to protect our families. It’s still up to us to know what is going on.”

  Carrie could hear the rumble of voices as she finished up with her last patient, an elderly man recovering from pneumonia. When he had first been brought in to her several weeks earlier, he had been coughing up yellowish phlegm tinged with blood and gasping for air. She had been alarmed by his high fever and chills.

  She had sent him home immediately, surrounded by blankets from the clinic to keep him warm. His daughter, frightened by her father’s illness, left with a recipe for broth and stern instructions to keep him warm and dry.

  “My daddy be doing a whole lot better,” Bea said gratefully. “I thought you were a little crazy when you told me to make that soup from garlic, radishes, carrots and celery, but his breathing eased up pretty quick.”

  “I thought she was tryin’ to drown me with that soup. Eber time I opened my eyes she was shoving that soup down me.” Dalton rolled his eyes. “My daughter did just what you told her, Miss Carrie.”

  “You took good care of him,” Carrie said approvingly.

  “That she did,” her father agreed. “I think it was that tea you had her make me out of milkweed that really made me better. It didn’t taste so good, but it sure cleared things up.”

  “The pleurisy root,” Carrie acknowledged with a smile. “I haven’t found anything that works better, Dalton. It works on a lot of things. I’ve mashed it into a salve for cuts and sores. I used it once to heal someone who had burned their eyes.”

  Bea eyed her. “Did you learn all that when you was working at the hospital during the war?”

  Carrie grinned. “Definitely not. There are still doctors who practice what is called bloodletting. They withdraw blood from a patient to cure pneumonia.”

  Bea looked horrified. “Why would they do that?”

  “It is based on an ancient system of medicine. Blood and other bodily fluids are regarded as humors that have to remain in proper balance to maintain health,” Carrie explained, knowing her words probably made little sense.

  “You think they be right?” Bea asked skeptically.

  Carrie shook her head firmly. “No.”

  Bea was silent for a moment. “Ain’t you going to a fancy medical school up north, Miss Carrie? What you gonna do when they teach you about this?”

  Carrie grinned again. “I’m going to listen. I’m going to learn it well enough to pass my tests. And then I’m going to do what is best for my patients.”

  “You gonna teach them all this stuff Old Sarah taught you?”

  Carrie’s expression softened as she thought of the months she had spent tromping through the woods with Old Sarah, learning the magic of the plants. “I’m going to try,” she promised. “I already know traditional medicine turns its nose up at some of the herbal medicines. I probably would have too, before Old Sarah taught me everything. She gave me a gift I can never repay.”

  “Then why you going?” Dalton asked.

  “Because I can learn a lot from them,” Carrie said promptly. “There is so much I need to learn about surgical procedures that I don’t know yet. And new discoveries are being made every day. I will always use the herbal remedies in my practice, but I’m sure other things will be developed that can help people. I want to know it all. I want to use whatever will make my patients better.”

  Carrie walked out to Dalton’s wagon with them, waving as they rolled down the road and around the bend. They had wanted to stay for Rose’s meeting, but she was concerned the ride home when the air was even cooler would be too hard on his still-recovering lungs.

  June appeared at her side as the wagon disappeared. “You notice anything different about today?”

  Carrie frowned. She had hoped only she noticed it. “We didn’t have any white patients,” she said.

  “That happens when you’re not here,” June observed, “but there has never been a day when you’re here that white people don’t come.”

  “I know,” Carrie agreed.

  “You got any ideas why?” June pressed.

  Carrie kept her eyes on the road, not able to escape the sense of dread that had filled her all day. Now that all her patients were gone, there was nothing to keep her mind off it. There was something in the air that prickled at her skin. “No,” she finally said, “but things don’t feel right.”

  “I agree,” June said promptly. “I’ve been feeling uneasy all day. I tried telling myself I’m making it up, but my mama always told me to trust when something don’t feel right.”

  Carrie took a deep breath. “I think Annie is right,” she said. She had a sudden urge to be back on the plantation. “How much longer is the meeting going to last?”

  “I don’t think much longer. Rose told me she wanted everyone to get home before it gets dark.”

  Carrie looked at her sharply. Rose almost always had night classes. “Since when?”

  “Since this morning when Rose told me she felt something in the air,” June replied somberly.

  Just then the door to the schoolhouse opened. Greetings filled the air, but the schoolyard emptied quickly. Moments later, they were all in the carriage headed for the plantation. When the house appeared in the distance, smoke wafting from the chimneys, Carrie felt herself relax for the first time that day. Nothing seemed to be wrong. She saw the same relief mirrored in Rose’s and June’s eyes.

  Robert opened the door for them, a broad smile on his face. “You’re home. Annie almost has dinner ready.”

  Carrie smiled as the aroma of fried chicken, collard greens, and cornbread rolled over them. She suddenly realized how hungry she was. “We’ll wash up quickly and be back down,” she said, heading for the staircase.

  “What’s that?” Moses asked with his hand on the doorknob as he started to pull the door closed. He stopped, looking down the driveway.

  Robert frowned. “Hoofbeats.” He reached for the rifle that now had a permanent place by the front door and stepped back out on the porch.

  Carrie tensed and turned back, exchanging a long look with Rose and June.

  Moments later a horse galloped around the curve. They heard a vague cry but couldn’t identify what was being said.

  “It’s only one person,” Robert said. He continued to hold the rifle, but he pointed it down. “I think someone is in trouble.”

  The rider finally got close enough for them to hear the words. “Fire! Fire!”

  Moments later, Clint skidded to a stop, his gelding’s sides heaving and caked with sweat. “The schoolhouse,” he yelled. “It’s on fire!”

  Chapter Eleven

  Rose gripped the seat of the carriage tightly as the horses galloped down the driveway. Robert slowed them only slightly when they reached the turn to the main road, but the amber glow in the distance told her it was already too late. The wooden structure would burn quickly and there was not a water supply to put it out. The single well would be almost useless against a serious blaze.

  No one said a word as the carriage stopped far enough away to protect the horses from the heat. They all jumped out, watching grimly as a portion of the roof collapsed. They could see books and desks burning from the open window, but there was no way to save anything.

  Carrie quickly realized the medical clinic had not yet caught fire. “The medical supplies!” she yelled, dashing for the door. “We have to save what we can!” She covered her mouth with her hand and ran inside, horrified by the sound of the flames devouring the school.

  Robert and Moses appeared beside her, heaving thing
s out the door while Rose, June, and Aunt Abby grabbed them and pulled them away from the building. All of them worked frantically to save what they could.

  A sudden whoosh and crackling sound told Carrie they had run out of time. “We have to get out!” she cried. She grabbed a final box that held medical records. Coughing, she pulled Robert and Moses from the building, recognizing the determined looks on their faces.

  “I can get some more,” Robert wheezed.

  Carrie shook her head grimly. “There is not one thing in there worth your life.” She watched as the roof exploded into flame. She had a vision of the terror Sadie, Sadie Lou, Susie, and Zeke must have felt as the fire consumed them. Shuddering, she stepped closer to Rose and wrapped an arm around her.

  “How did this happen?” Rose whispered. “Moses banked the fire down before we left.”

  “It was no stray spark that ignited this fire,” Aunt Abby said flatly. “Someone set it.”

  Just then Clint rode up on a fresh horse. He vaulted off and ran to where they were standing. “I saw them!” he yelled over the crackle of the flames. “I tried to stop it, but it was too late.”

  “What are you talking about?” Robert asked sharply, reaching for Clint’s hand but releasing it quickly when Clint gave a cry. “What…?”

  Carrie stepped forward quickly. “Your hands are badly burned!” She motioned June to get some of the supplies they had saved and then turned back to him. “What happened, Clint?”

  Clint’s breathing was shallow. “I saw them, Miss Carrie. I was out riding Scottie through the woods when I heard voices. Something didn’t feel right, so I tied Scottie to a tree and snuck up close so I could see.” His voice tightened. “There was a whole bunch of white men that had horses. They went up to the school, broke all the windows, and tossed a bunch of burning branches into the schoolhouse. They was cheering when they got back on their horses and rode off.” He lifted his eyes to Robert. “I’m real sorry I didn’t stop them,” he said hoarsely.

  Robert put his hand on the boy’s shoulder. “You were wise not to try to stop them. They would have hurt you. But you must have tried to put the fire out,” he said with a grim look at Clint’s hands.

  “Weren’t no use,” Clint mumbled. “I ran inside and threw some of the branches out but there were too many. I couldn’t get them all. The walls had already caught on fire…” He cast his eyes down. “I’m real sorry…”

  Rose walked over and took his face in her hands. “What you did was so brave,” she said softly, her own eyes glazed with grief. “Thank you for trying. I’m just so glad you weren’t hurt any worse. Did you burn anything other than your hands?”

  Clint shook his head. “No. They’re okay. They don’t hurt so bad,” he said stoically.

  Carrie took over, recognizing the strained look in his eyes that negated his words. There was nothing any of them could do to stop the fire. “Come with me,” she commanded. “Your hands need to be taken care of.”

  “Here is some cloth, Carrie,” June said quickly. “What else do you need?”

  Carrie realized her supply of herbs and salves had not made it out of the fire. She pushed aside thoughts of the loss. “There is just enough light to gather some plantain. Will you recognize it?”

  June nodded. “I’ll get it. I saw a brand new patch growing this morning.”

  “I’ll help,” Abby said quickly. “Just show me what it is.”

  Robert stayed with Clint while Carrie went through the supplies they had saved. She breathed a sigh of relief when she found a jar of honey. She grabbed it and carried it back to Clint. Robert had pushed him down against a tree far enough away from the fire to be safe, but close enough to benefit from the light the flames produced.

  “Here you go, Carrie,” June said, holding out several handfuls of plantain weed. “What are you going to do with it? You don’t have anything here to create a salve.”

  Carrie smiled grimly as she took a handful and shoved it in her mouth, waving her hand to tell everyone to do the same thing. “We missed dinner,” she said lightly, trying to add humor to a tragedy. “It’s perfectly safe to eat, but it’s a little bitter. Just do me a favor and don’t swallow. When you have it well chewed, let me know.”

  Everyone followed her direction. Carrie chewed determinedly until the weeds had broken down into a paste inside her mouth and then spit it out in her hand. Clint watched her quietly, but she was concerned by the glazed look in his eyes. She knew shock was a danger, especially with the temperature dropping. In spite of his casual attitude, the boy’s burns were serious. “Did we save any blankets?” she asked crisply.

  Robert appeared by her side with several blankets. “Lean forward,” he ordered.

  Silently, Clint leaned forward so Robert could wrap the blankets around his shoulders, leaving only his hands exposed.

  Carrie took one hand gently, wincing at the red, inflamed skin. She spread the plantain over the wounds, accepting everyone’s offering until both hands were covered. Then she carefully spread honey on the wrapping cloths June had given her and swaddled his hands. “They’re going to be very painful,” she said calmly, “but they will heal completely.”

  Relief washed over Clint’s face. “That’s good,” he mumbled. “I was worried I wouldn’t be able to ride again if I messed my hands up.”

  “You will ride again just fine,” Carrie said tenderly, laying her hand on his forehead. She could only imagine the pain he had endured when he rode over to tell them what he’d seen. “But not tonight,” she added firmly. “Robert will ride Scottie home. You’ll join us in the carriage.”

  Clint nodded weakly. “Yes, ma’am.”

  Carrie met Robert’s eyes over the boy’s head. “Stay here with him,” she said.

  Standing, she walked over to where Rose and Moses stood staring grimly at the still-raging fire. Moses held a sheet of paper tightly in his hand, a look of fury in his eyes. “What is that?”

  Moses stared down at her. “I found this on the tree by the road.”

  Carrie reached for the paper, her fury matching his as she read.

  We warned you no good would come from helping the niggers. Since words had no effect, we thought you would pay attention to action. Be warned. We are watching every moment. We will not let our beloved South be taken from us.

  Carrie snorted as she balled up the paper. “Cowards!” she snapped. She turned toward the woods across the road and lifted her fist defiantly. “If you’re watching,” she yelled, “know that you are all nothing but cowards. You can burn it down, but we will simply rebuild. The day will come when cowards like you will no longer have the ability to ruin our beloved South!” Her words rose against the crackle of the flames, hanging in the air defiantly.

  Abby joined her, raising her own fist. Moments later, June joined her. The three women stood as a determined unit against the specter of danger.

  Carrie finally turned to see where Rose was and moaned when she saw the anguished look in her friend’s eyes. Rose stared at the burning building, fear radiating from her face. Before Carrie could move to comfort her friend, she heard… yells coming from down the road. Stiffening, she waited to see if there was to be another attack.

  Robert was by her side instantly, his rifle held ready.

  Moses scowled. “One rifle won’t do much against a band of men.”

  “No,” Robert admitted grimly, “but it’s all we’ve got.”

  “Miss Rose! Miss Rose!”

  Moments later, emerging from the darkness like vengeful ghosts, a large group assembled at the edge of the fire.

  Justine slipped to Rose’s side. “Who set our school on fire?” she cried. “Why would they do that?”

  “Who did this?” another woman yelled.

  “They burned our school!” a wide-eyed little girl screamed, running forward to huddle against Rose. “I’m scared, Miss Rose. They gonna come to our house next?”

  Her question set off a torrent of tears from the children who
had accompanied their parents. “They gonna burn us next, Miss Rose?”

  A little boy named Wallace walked up to Rose and peered into her eyes. “You scared, Miss Rose?”

  A quiet settled down over the clearing. The only sound was the crackling of the flames as they devoured the remaining walls. The light from the fire illuminated all the way to the edge of the woods on the far side of the road, stopping short of what might be lurking just within.

  Rose shuddered, wanting to scream out her fear and uncertainty. Her students were looking to her for strength, but she had none to offer. She stared over Wally’s head as the last remaining wall burned down to where shelves of books had waited for eager children. She fought to breathe as the books caught fire, their pages burning bright as sparks in the raging inferno.

  Carrie, knowing she was incapable of speech, stepped forward. “I am so sorry,” she called. “It was white men who did this.” She held up the sheet of paper Moses had ripped from the tree. “This was done by cowardly men who are attempting to control by fear.”

  “They hate us that bad?” Wally asked. “How come white people hate us so bad?”

  Carrie knelt down to gaze into his eyes, battling a deep sense of shame. Fury rose in her to match the shame she felt over members of her race doing this terrible thing. “They don’t hate you, Wally,” she said tenderly.

  “They just hate everything that be black,” Wally said flatly, the dull knowledge in his eyes revealing he had seen far more than any ten-year-old boy should see.

  Carrie had a sudden wild desire to dash into the woods and pull out any cowardly men watching the results of their destructive act. She pushed the surge of emotion down, speaking calmly as she looked into Wally’s eyes. Only the truth would matter on a night like this. “People hate what they are afraid of,” she admitted.

  “They be afraid of me?” Wally asked, his eyes showing his confusion.