by Ginny Dye
“Mr. Matthew!” Miles cried when he answered the door. “How many times I got to tell you that you don’t need to be knocking on this door. This be your home.”
Matthew smiled. “No one was expecting me. I didn’t want to startle you.”
“You go right ahead and startle me,” Miles scolded mildly.
May flung the kitchen door open. “Matthew! It’s about time you got yourself back to Richmond. You been gone way too long.”
Matthew smiled, warmed by their welcome. He hadn’t been back in Richmond since he had pulled out on the train bound for Memphis seven weeks ago. Now that he was home, he let himself feel the fatigue that went bone deep. “It’s good to be back,” he said quietly.
May eyed him for several moments. “You come on in the kitchen. Dinner won’t be ready for a while, but I got me a fresh strawberry pie I just pulled out of the oven. I reckon your skinny body could use some.”
Matthew grinned and rubbed his hands together. “Lead the way.”
Matthew had let May talk him into a long nap after he had gorged on strawberry pie. He felt almost human when the rumbling sounds of a carriage pulling to a stop in front of the house woke him. He yawned and stretched, smiling broadly when he heard Thomas and Abby’s voices as they entered the house.
“What? Matthew is here?” Abby’s excited voice floated clearly up the stairs as he opened the door. “Where is he?”
May was in the middle of an explanation that he was asleep when he walked down the stairs.
“Matthew!” Abby cried. “Welcome home!”
Matthew grinned and pulled her into a hug. When he released her he shook hands with Thomas. “It’s good to be back.”
“Did you know Peter arrived yesterday?” Thomas asked.
“Peter? I had no idea. I haven’t seen him since we left Memphis. Where is he staying?”
“Here, of course!” Peter walked in the front door as Matthew was speaking. “I heard rumors you were headed back to Richmond, so I decided to join you. I went down to the station to meet you, but your train arrived early. By the time I got back, you were already asleep. May told me if I woke you up she would give you all my strawberry pie, so I let her have her way.”
May snorted. “He might just get your pie anyway. It’s time you figured out who runs things around here, Mr. Peter.”
Peter laughed and gave her a hug. “He who runs the kitchen runs the house,” he said playfully before he glanced back at Matthew.
Matthew recognized the flicker in his friend’s eyes. He knew Peter well enough to know he had something serious on his mind, but he also knew it could wait until after dinner. At that very moment, all he wanted to do was eat whatever was creating the delicious aromas wafting from the kitchen. “He doesn’t sound sincere enough to me, May” he said seriously. “I followed your orders when you told me to get some sleep. I think you should give me his pie.”
May waved her hand. “The whole lot of you can just go on in the parlor. There is lemonade and cookies waiting there. Dinner will be ready soon, though, so don’t you be spoiling your appetite.
“Yes, ma’am,” Peter said meekly. “Whatever you say.”
May swatted at him with her apron and disappeared into the kitchen. Laughing, Matthew followed the rest of them into the parlor.
Abby was the first to speak. “I know social protocol says we should have idle chitchat since you have just arrived, but I’m just not in the mood,” she said lightly. She turned to Peter. “We all know you didn’t decide to just stop by Richmond for a casual visit. I’ve been willing to wait for Matthew to arrive before I demanded to know what it is. He’s here. Talk,” she commanded.
Peter nodded. “I appreciate you not pressing the issue,” he said gravely. “I did some more nosing around today. I didn’t like what I discovered.”
“About?” Matthew asked sharply.
Peter settled back into his chair and took a sip of the lemonade before he answered. “Have you heard of the Ku Klux Klan?”
Matthew frowned. He didn’t know what he had expected, but it wasn’t this. He struggled to remember what little he knew. “I’ve heard something about it. I understand it is a social organization founded by six Confederate veterans from Pulaski, Tennessee. They created it right before Christmas last year because they were bored. They wear white robes and hoods to hide their identities. They seem to be fond of bashing picnics and wedding ceremonies. I’ve heard people consider it great fun.”
“That’s how it started,” Peter agreed.
“And now?” Thomas asked.
“I’m afraid it’s becoming something more dangerous,” Peter admitted. “They have grown quite a bit. From what I can tell, the trouble began when some of the people out playing pranks recognized the genuine fear black people felt when they saw them ride by, so they decided to take it further.” He frowned. “It is turning into a secret, oath-bound organization committed to intimidating blacks.”
“Like the vigilante groups springing up around the country,” Matthew said heavily, visions of the Memphis Riot still fresh in his mind.
“Yes, but…”
“But what?” Abby asked. “You’re not telling us everything.”
Peter shrugged. “I’m still trying to learn exactly what is going on myself, but my instincts tell me this is more than a small band of vigilantes.”
“What do you think it is?” Matthew asked, watching him closely.
“They have the power to organize,” Peter answered slowly. “Confederate veterans are flocking to their meetings. What started out as fun has turned into something deadly. I’ve been hearing stories about them burning blacks’ houses. They’re attacking and killing them.”
“Like in Memphis,” Matthew said bitterly.
“What happened in Memphis has made it worse,” Peter revealed. “They seem to be picking up where the Memphis Riot left off. They sweep in at night wearing their robes and hoods so no one can identify them. They do their damage and then disappear.”
“Cowards!” Abby snapped.
“Yes,” Peter agreed, his eyes troubled. “They are determined to re-establish white supremacy. The Ku Klux Klan has already spread to other counties in Tennessee and Alabama.”
“And they’re all attacking the blacks?” Abby asked with horror.
“No,” Peter said quickly. “Right now the majority of them are still just playing pranks on the blacks, but…” His voice trailed off as he looked at Matthew. “What is happening in Washington, DC right now? I hear things from different people, but I wanted to hear it from you.”
“And this is connected to the Ku Klux Klan?” Matthew was puzzled.
Peter sighed. “I don’t know. I do know there are Republicans in Congress pushing for more strenuous Reconstruction acts, especially after the Memphis Riot made it so clear that southern governments can’t be counted on to protect the freedmen.”
“And you’re afraid if the Republicans get their way, it will promote more vigilante violence in the South against the blacks,” Abby stated.
“Yes,” Peter replied bluntly. “I also believe that if the Republicans don’t get their way, the blacks are going to continually face what happened in Memphis. I’ve been talking to some of my colleagues here in Richmond. Vigilante violence is increasing here in Virginia, as well.” He shook his head. “I just don’t know what the answer is.” He turned back to Matthew. “What is happening?”
“The Civil Rights Act was a victory,” Matthew began, “but I have talked to many members of Congress who doubt they really possess constitutional power to turn the goals of the Civil Rights Acts into law. There are many pushing to seek constitutional guarantees for black rights. They don’t want to have to rely on temporary political majorities, and they don’t want the Supreme Court to have an opportunity to declare it unconstitutional.”
“The Fourteenth Amendment,” Peter said. “I understood the Joint Committee on Reconstruction proposed an amendment last year stating that any citizens
barred from voting on the basis of race by a state would not be counted for purposes of representation by that state.”
“Yes,” Matthew agreed. “When slavery was abolished, that meant the full population of the freed slaves, not just the three-fifths compromise established in 1787, would be counted for determining representation in the House. Republicans are concerned about the extra power that will give southern states even though the freed slaves can’t vote.”
“So Republicans are looking for a way to balance that by getting the vote for the black man. They believe the blacks will vote with them,” Abby said thoughtfully.
Matthew nodded. “The amendment was blocked by Democrats opposed to black rights, but it was also opposed by a coalition of Radical Republicans led by Charles Sumner. They didn’t feel it went far enough in securing equal rights for blacks.”
Peter leaned forward. “I understand a version of the amendment finally passed through Congress.”
“That’s true. They finally found a proposal the majority could agree on. It passed the Senate on June eighth, and then received approval in the House on the thirteenth. A resolution for President Johnson to transmit the proposal to the executives of all the states was passed on the eighteenth.”
“Yesterday,” Thomas murmured.
“And are the Radical Republicans happy with it?” Peter asked keenly.
Matthew shrugged. “They are satisfied they have secured civil rights for the blacks, but they are disappointed that they couldn’t secure political rights for blacks.”
“Meaning the Fourteenth Amendment still doesn’t give them the vote,” Abby stated angrily. “So Congress is still blocking both the black right to vote and women’s right to vote.”
“Yes,” Matthew said quietly, knowing how disappointed Abby would be. “I’m sorry.”
Abby frowned. “If they want real change, the blacks will have to be able to vote. As long as they have no voice, the South will try to rip all their freedoms away.”
“I agree completely,” Matthew responded hesitantly.
“What?” Abby asked sharply. “What are you thinking?”
“It may work in our favor,” Matthew said slowly. “Even though the Fourteenth Amendment doesn’t go as far as we wanted it to, it is still going to be bitterly contested by every southern state. I predict that most, if not all, of them will refuse to ratify it.”
“And if they do?” Thomas asked.
Matthew lifted his hands. “I can’t be sure, but President Johnson is losing more power and influence every day. I will be shocked if the Democratic Party retains its power after the fall elections. It is becoming more and more obvious that Johnson’s lenient policies toward the South are a complete failure. The Memphis Riot was more evidence of that.”
“Your and Peter’s articles made that abundantly clear,” Abby said warmly. “They were so well done. I’ve been proud of you for so long, but I don’t think I’ve ever been quite that proud.” Her shining gaze included Peter, as well. “You made sure the entire country knew what really happened.”
Matthew flushed, pleased with her praise because he admired her so much. “It was nice to actually be a voice for change,” he admitted. “Anyway, when Johnson’s party loses this fall, and then when the southern states refuse to ratify the amendment, I believe it will open the door for the Reconstruction Acts to go through.”
“Turning the South into military states,” Thomas said heavily.
Compassion filled Abby’s face. “I’m sorry, my dear.”
Thomas shook his head. “I wish there were another way to accomplish it, but I’m afraid there is not. President Johnson’s policies have made the South believe they can do anything they want to without consequences. The state governments believe it, but now individuals believe it as well. That might actually be worse because it will be almost impossible to govern vigilantes who have no respect for the law. I’m afraid it will take a military crackdown to change things.”
Matthew knew how much Thomas’s admission cost him. He also wasn’t sure that military governments would stop the chaos that was going to reign through the South. He exchanged a long look with Peter, knowing he was thinking the same thing. After their experience in Memphis, they both knew the level of hatred had spiraled out of control.
Jeremy took a deep breath as he settled back in the carriage, exhausted from a long day. Thomas and Abby had left two hours before him because one of the machines had broken down. He refused to leave until it was fixed and in operating order for the next day.
“Tired?” Spencer asked, lifting the reins as he urged the horses forward.
“Yes, but it was a good day,” Jeremy responded. “We got three new orders in. We are ahead of our projections by almost twenty-five percent. I can’t complain about being a little tired.”
“That’s real good,” Spencer replied, but he had an uneasy tone to his voice.
Jeremy looked up sharply. He and Spencer had become too close for him not to recognize when something was being concealed. “What is it?”
Spencer was quiet for a moment and then shrugged. “It’s probably nothing.”
“Just tell me,” Jeremy responded. “I’m too tired to pry it out of you tonight.”
Spencer chuckled but sobered quickly. “You been having any trouble with the workers?” he asked.
Jeremy frowned. “Not that I’m aware of. Things are always tense, but there hasn’t been any outright trouble or violence.” He was proud of the fact that their black and white employees were working together smoothly. They might not like it, but the wages they were earning compelled them to do it. He had even seen a few of them talking casually between shifts. He smiled as he realized the factory was making a difference in more than just family incomes. It was a small thing, but it was a beginning.
Spencer pulled his thoughts back. “What about a few weeks ago?”
Jeremy forced his exhausted mind to concentrate. “I had to fire a man,” he remembered.
“A white man?” Spencer pressed.
“Yes. He refused to work on one of the new machines with two new black men I hired. He made a threat toward one of them.”
“So you fired him,” Spencer said gravely.
Jeremy shook his head impatiently. “What is the point of this, Spencer?”
“The point is that I been hearing things,” Spencer replied. “Not so good things.”
“There have been no more threats made against the factory,” Jeremy protested. “Abby has been back for over a month. There have been no problems.”
“Abby ain’t the one who did the firing,” Spencer said, his eyes searching every shadow as the carriage rolled down the street. “I been hearing threats against you, Jeremy.”
“By who?” Jeremy asked sharply.
“I don’t know. I ain’t heard the threats myself. Some of the fellas told me to tell you to be real careful, though. So I’m telling you.”
Jeremy shrugged, too tired to be alarmed. “Alright. I’ve been warned. Can you just get me home to dinner now?”
Spencer chuckled as he slowed the carriage to turn a corner. “I reckon I can do that.”
The large rock was hurled from the shadows. It barely missed Jeremy’s head as it slammed into his shoulder. He grunted as he fell back against the seat, stunned by the sudden attack.
Spencer groaned and yelled to the horses to run. It was too late. Four men appeared from the shadows, grabbing the horses harness and holding them in place.
Six more men sprang from the darkness, swarming into the carriage.
Jeremy tried to fight back, but a vicious blow to the head blurred his vision and made him nauseous. He could feel the fists and boots slamming into his body, but he was powerless to stop the attack.
He closed his eyes and wondered if he was going to die. An image of Marietta’s glowing eyes filled his mind, followed by Rose’s laughing face. He struggled to remain conscious, but he could feel the blackness descending. He could hear Spencer’s gru
nts as the darkness deepened. The last thing he remembered was the sound of yelling and running feet.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Thomas settled back in his chair, a broad smile on his face as he gazed around the dinner table. It was so wonderful to have Matthew and Peter with them for a few days. He glanced at the clock on the wall. “I’m hoping Jeremy will get home in time to eat with us.” He had already explained the broken machinery that had delayed him.
Abby picked up her napkin, a troubled expression on her face. “Shouldn’t he be here by now?”
Thomas shrugged. “I have no way of knowing how long it will take to fix the machinery.” He watched her carefully. “Is something bothering you?”
“Nothing concrete,” Abby murmured. “Just a feeling…”
Her words were drowned out by the pounding of horses pulling a rattling carriage at a fast speed. “What in the world!” Thomas exclaimed, jumping up from the table to rush to the window. “No one should be driving that fast on this road. Someone will get hurt.”
Abby was beside him in an instant, peering into the darkness. “Who is it?”
“I don’t…” Thomas stopped speaking when the carriage plowed to a stop in front of the house.
“Mr. Cromwell! Mr. Cromwell!”
“That’s Spencer!” Abby gasped.
Moments later all four of them were racing down the sidewalk. Miles and May stood on the porch, their faces grim with fear.