by Ginny Dye
The factory was doing well, working at full speed to fill the orders pouring in. There was still tension, but there had been no outright violence. She knew Jeremy was largely responsible for that. He insisted on being involved with every part of the manufacturing process, spending every minute of the day working alongside the men — both black and white. His presence kept violence from brewing, but she hoped his open-minded fairness was working to gradually change attitudes. Nothing would truly change until people changed the way they thought.
“Long day, Mrs. Cromwell?” Spencer asked sympathetically.
Abby smiled warmly. “A long day,” she agreed, “but a good day.” She had told him about the fire at the plantation. “I sent Carrie and Robert home today with everything they need. With everyone working hard, I don’t think it will take time to rebuild the school.”
“Like my daddy said, lots of hands make easy labor,” Spencer responded. “I reckon he was right.”
Abby nodded and laid her head back against the carriage seat, staring up into the new leaves exploding all over the city. Even with all the destruction from the war, Richmond was a beautiful city. There was still a lot of work to be done, but so much had already been accomplished. Mountains of rubble had been moved outside the city limits, and new buildings were going up everywhere. She smiled as the last rays of the sun kissed the Capitol Building with a pink haze, admiring the dogwood trees that were bursting into bloom with white blossoms that stood out starkly in the waning light.
She was jolted out of her thoughts when the carriage slammed to a stop, the horses throwing up their heads and neighing in protest as a group of men stepped in front of them to form a barricade across the road. Abby sighed in irritation, too tired to feel alarm. She patted the carriage seat beside her and sat up erectly. “Why have you gentlemen stopped us?” she called crisply.
“We’ve stopped you because we have something to say,” one man called back.
Abby looked him over carefully. He was dressed well and his dark hair was carefully groomed. “You look like someone who should have the manners to know there is a better way to start a conversation,” she said calmly, only her eyes flashing her irritation.
The man scowled, anger twisting his features into something quite unpleasant. Abby felt her first twinge of alarm.
“And you look like a woman who would know there is a better way to run a factory than the way you and your husband are running it now,” he shot back.
Abby stiffened when she saw fury settle on the faces of the seven men standing with him, but she couldn’t resist taunting him. “So it takes eight of you to have a conversation with one woman? You could have come to the factory if you have something to say.”
The self-elected leader took a step forward. “I would suggest you not try any smart talk,” he growled. “We already know you and your husband think you can do things any way you want to. We’re here to tell you things don’t work down here the way they worked in Philadelphia.”
“Is that right?” Abby asked evenly, angry enough to be bold but all too aware she was at a disadvantage.
“That’s right,” the man snapped. “You have to lower the wages for the blacks at the factory. It’s not right that they’re being paid the same as white workers. We don’t do things that way here in Richmond.”
Abby knew it was useless to try reason. There was not a man staring at her who would be open to answers and reasoning. She slowly slid her hand beneath her lap blanket. “And if we don’t?”
Anger flared into fury the moment the words came from her mouth. The leader nodded his head curtly. She gasped when three of the men surged forward and grabbed Spencer by the arm, trying to haul him off the wagon seat. Spencer said nothing, but his tight grip on the seat held him in place.
Abby stood, pulling a pistol from beneath the blanket. Knowing the threat alone wouldn’t get their attention, she fired a shot into the air, hoping the noise would alert help but not having any confidence that it would get here in time. Richmond was still far too crowded for the police to have control. “Take your hands off my driver,” she snapped.
The three men cursed and fell back but stayed within easy reach of the wagon. Spencer remained silent, his face set and stoic.
The leader laughed harshly. “One woman with a pistol? Do you think you can stop all of us?”
Abby fought to keep her voice calm. “Probably not, but which ones of you are willing to find out whom I can stop? I have five bullets left in this pistol.” She reached under the blanket and pulled out another one. “I have six more in this one. At such close range, I imagine I could do a lot of damage.”
The leader swore but still snickered and waved his men forward, his face set in cold, harsh lines. They exchanged reluctant looks but did his bidding, grabbing Spencer by the arm and pulling him roughly.
Breathing a quiet prayer, Abby fought to control her pounding heart, then aimed and fired, shooting the front man in the leg. She felt sick when she saw the rapidly expanding blood on his pants.
Cursing louder, he fell back. “She shot me,” he yelled. “She shot me!”
The other two men jumped back, looking wildly between their leader and Abby’s pistol.
“And that’s just the first of you if you don’t all step back,” Abby said, cocking the hammer again. When the men fell back, she turned and aimed the pistol straight at the leader’s heart. “I shot your man in the leg because I think he’s a fool for following your lead. I’ll have no such compassion for you. If you are not out of our way in five seconds, this next bullet is going straight through your heart,” she said grimly. “What I do with my business is my business. I will not allow some cowardly man to dictate my actions.” The image of the burning schoolhouse added fuel to her anger. “Get out of our way!” she demanded, raising her other pistol to aim it at the rest of the men. “I’m not quite as good with my left hand,” she admitted, “so I’m not sure which one of you I will shoot, but I guess that is your problem, not mine.”
The other men fell back into the shadows. Only the leader held his position, his eyes glazed with hatred.
Abby took a deep breath, wondering if she could really shoot a man in the heart, but a quick glance at Spencer’s rigid shoulders assured her she could do whatever it took to protect them.
“We’re not finished,” the man growled. As he stepped back, he stared her in the eye. “There just might be a repeat of what happened to that schoolhouse,” he snapped. “Fire can be very destructive, don’t you think?”
Abby fought back a sudden urge to pull the trigger and relieve the world of this man. She held her hand steady, not looking away from the burning animosity in his eyes. “So can cowardice,” she said quietly. “Your attempts to save your beloved South are doing nothing but causing further destruction.” She leaned forward slightly. “I think now would be a good time to leave,” she whispered into Spencer’s ear. “Just don’t be in a hurry,” she said more loudly. “I’ll be happy to shoot anything that moves.”
Spencer lifted the reins slightly and moved the horses forward.
Abby didn’t take her eyes off the men until they had rounded a bend and gone a few blocks. As traffic increased in the busier part of town, she breathed her first steady breath. “Well…”
“It sure ain’t never boring driving you people around,” Spencer said quietly.
Abby laughed, sagging back against the seat. “I’d heard Carrie got you in some bad situations.”
Spencer nodded. “Yes, ma’am. She’s pretty good with a rifle, though. And then Hobbs started going with us.”
“Did you ever think of driving for someone else?”
“And miss out on all the fun?” Spencer protested. “Not a chance.”
Abby smiled but felt a quick surge of fear. “We have to go back to the factory,” she said suddenly.
“We can’t be going back there,” Spencer protested. “They might still be there, Mrs. Cromwell. Mr. Cromwell won’t never forgive me if I le
t something happen to you.”
“And I could never forgive myself if something happens to Thomas and Jeremy on the way home,” Abby replied, her heart pounding again as she imagined the group of men accosting her husband and brother-in-law outside the factory. “We have to warn them. Besides, there will be less danger with all of us together. Those men are too cowardly to come after all of us.”
Spencer sighed heavily and shook his head, but he turned the carriage around.
Abby sat at attention the entire way, her pistol ready and her eyes scanning the shadows for any movement. She knew the almost-dark roads increased their danger. The thought of Thomas and Jeremy facing those men without warning kept her pressing forward.
Thomas and Jeremy were just leaving the factory when they arrived.
“Abby!” Thomas cried, whitening when he saw the look on her face. “What is it? What’s wrong?”
Abby quickly told him what had happened, her anger growing as she talked. “It was infuriating!” she finished.
Thomas grabbed her arm. “You could have been killed,” he whispered.
The same thought had occurred to Abby, but she pushed it aside. “So could one or more of them,” she replied calmly, annoyed when she felt her insides begin to tremble now that the danger had passed.
Jeremy was standing at attention beside the carriage, his eyes never still as he watched every movement. “I’d suggest we get home,” he said steadily. “I think Abby is right that they won’t come after all of us, but a man with wounded pride can be very dangerous. I say we finish this conversation at home.”
Abby was happy to stay close to Thomas, her hand firmly in his as Spencer drove them rapidly through the darkened streets. She only relaxed when they turned down their street. She could hardly wait to sit down to a hot meal and then talk with Thomas after dinner.
“Spencer! Stop!” Jeremy yelled.
Abby’s mind froze as her eyes searched the street for signs of danger.
Jeremy stood tall in the carriage, staring down at the city spread below them from their vantage point on the hill. “There is a fire,” he said grimly. “Down in the black quarter.”
“Not another one,” Abby whispered, fatigue pressing down on her like a blanket. “Is there to be no end?”
“I’ve got to get down there,” Jeremy said urgently.
“Of course you do,” Thomas said. Jeremy had already told him what he could about his activities. He knew his brother was leaving things out, but he trusted Jeremy was revealing all he could. “Spencer?”
“Yessir,” Spencer responded grimly. “We’ll get there a lot faster in the carriage. It’s the Second African Church,” he said. “I know right where that church be from up here.”
“We should come help,” Abby gasped, her thoughts flying to Marietta, already knowing Jeremy’s thoughts were centered on the lovely young woman who had shared dinner with them several times.
“No, ma’am,” Spencer replied firmly. “Ain’t no telling what is going on down there. You done been in enough danger for one night.”
“He’s right, Abby,” Thomas agreed. He grasped Jeremy’s hand. “We’ll wait up until you get home with the news.”
Abby and Thomas climbed quickly from the carriage when Spencer brought it to a standstill. “Be careful!” they called, as the horses returned the way they had just come. They stood on the porch until the quiet of the night had swallowed all sounds, and then they went inside.
Jeremy wanted to yell at Spencer to go faster, but he knew the horses were going as swiftly as they could on the dark streets.
“You know we ain’t gonna get there in time to save anythin’,” Spencer said grimly.
Jeremy scowled, knowing he was right. “I doubt it was an accident.”
“Don’t reckon it was.” He looked over at Jeremy. “How many people know you been comin’ down to the church to help us?”
“Only Thomas and Abby,” Jeremy replied, looking at Spencer sharply. “You think someone did this because of me?” His thoughts flew to Marietta. Would she come to harm because of him? He prayed she had left the church right after school. The thought of something happening to her had his throat closing like a vise. He struggled to breathe evenly.
Spencer shrugged. “Them men who came after Abby tonight seemed bent on destruction, but if they was the ones who done it, it weren’t because of you. It was because of us. Them men might not like what you’re doing, but it weren’t your church they burned.”
Jeremy gritted his teeth. “I should stop coming if I’m putting anyone in danger.”
“I don’t think so,” Spencer responded quietly. “That would just be giving them what they want. They knows you helpin’ us. They for sure don’t want that.”
“Then they should come after me,” Jeremy snapped. Again, his thoughts flew to Marietta. He would see what he could do for the church, and then he would go to her boarding house to make sure she was safe.
“Be careful what you wish for, Mr. Jeremy,” Spencer warned. “You might just get it.”
“Tell me more about what happened tonight,” Jeremy asked, trying to shake his helpless feeling. “I have a feeling Abby left out some things.”
“She sho nuff did,” Spencer agreed. He spoke quickly as they drew closer to the black quarter, telling Jeremy everything that had happened. “That one man was real bad news. I didn’t recognize him from around town. You got to keep a close eye on Mrs. Cromwell.”
“We will, but I’m also concerned about you. They would have killed you if they had gotten you down from the wagon,” Jeremy growled.
Spencer remained silent, focused on his driving, but the expression on his face said he knew that was true.
“I’m going to get you a pistol, Spencer. You’ll be able to protect yourself, and you can also help protect whomever you’re driving.”
Spencer nodded. “I reckon that be a good thing, but you might oughta teach me how to shoot it once you give it to me. Not many black people, other than them soldiers during the war, ever had a gun. I ain’t never held a gun before. No telling what might get shot. ”
Jeremy chuckled and then fell silent as they rounded the last corner. Spencer had been right — it was impossible to save anything. There was a huge crowd of people standing just outside the ring of heat, but no one was doing anything but staring and crying as the two-story, old wooden building went up like kindling. The roof had already collapsed. The burning walls were sending columns of fire and smoke high into the air.
Spencer pulled the wagon to a stop. Both of them stared at the burning church with a sick feeling. The fire was bad enough, but the malice they were certain was behind it hung in the air like a dark shroud.
Jeremy thought about the simple pews that seated the congregation each Sunday. He could clearly see the rooms set aside for students during the day and then for Secret Society meetings at night. He remembered the picnic he had been invited to a few weeks earlier. Good food, laughing faces, and friendship had resonated throughout the sunny spring day. It was all gone.
“Jeremy!”
Jeremy swiveled his head until he saw Eddie’s wildly waving arm. He jumped down from the carriage and hurried over. “How did this happen?”
Eddie frowned, his eyes a mixture of pain and fury. “It was set. Me and Opal and Marcus was coming over for a meeting. We got here a little early because Opal had made cookies for everyone. She wanted it to be a surprise. Just as we got here we saw a gang of white men running away from the church.” He turned to stare at the inferno. “They started the fires in the back. It done took only a few minutes for it to all go up.”
“Was anyone in there?” Jeremy asked, trying to speak steadily. Not many people knew about his relationship with Marietta.
“I don’t think so. Classes were over for the day and the meetings hadn’t started yet. The pastor is right over there, so I know he’s okay.”
Jeremy nodded with relief — a relief that was short-lived when he turned back to s
tare at the building. He only had one other question. “Marietta? Is she okay? Are you absolutely positive she wasn’t in there?”
As if summoned by his thoughts, she appeared from the darkness. “I’m fine, Jeremy.” She smiled at him, but her eyes were dark with concern and anger.
This time Jeremy’s relief almost swallowed him. “Thank God!” he said fervently. He grabbed both her hands and stared into her face. “Are you sure you’re okay? No burns from heroic efforts to save anything?” He had vivid memories of Carrie’s description of Clint’s burned hands.
“No heroic measures,” Marietta assured him. “By the time I got back here, it was too late to do anything.” Her voice trembled slightly. “I stayed after school late today because I was grading papers. I had just arrived home when one of my students came running to tell me about the fire.”
Jeremy gripped her hands tighter, knowing she probably wouldn’t have had a chance to escape the building if she had been in there when the fires were set. The arsonists had done a thorough job for the building to burn so quickly. “You’re sure no one else was in there?”
“Fairly certain,” Marietta responded. “I called goodbye when I left the building. No one responded. I believe it was empty.”
Jeremy nodded, continuing to stare down into her eyes. Their relationship was progressing, but there had been nothing else said about his feelings for her. He heard the popping sound of exploding timbers. As a more intense wave of heat rolled toward them, he pulled Marietta close into his arms, shielding her body. He buried his face in her hair for a long moment, pleased when she didn’t pull away. “I was so afraid something had happened to you,” he murmured.
Marietta stood quietly and then wrapped her arms around him. Jeremy felt the trembles rippling through her body. He pulled her even closer. “It’s going to be alright,” he said softly.
Only then did she pull back. “Really? This church was one of the centers of the community. What will everyone do now?” she demanded, anger replacing her fear.