“Me too, baby.” Mama rubbed Jordan’s arm and left to get help.
The two women came back into the room, and Miss Grace explained, “They rounded up lots of men today. It’s harvest time, so they need workers for the tobacco fields.”
“Samuel’s a lawyer! He doesn’t know how to work the fields!” Jordan said, outrage burning in her. “He’s going to die out there.”
Mama turned her head and stared at Jordan. She looked and sounded incredulous as she stated, “Jordan, this ain’t good, but you screamin’ ain’t gonna help him. Your brother worked the fields when he was a boy. He survived it then. He gonna survive it now. I ain’t worried about a few days. We got to worry about the years.”
Jordan flushed. She’d once again forgotten the distance between her own childhood and her brother’s.
Mama looked back at Miss Grace. “Where is my boy?”
“They being held at the auction house until they leased out,” Miss Grace said.
“Auction house?” Jordan asked, confused.
“Slave auction house,” Miss Grace explained. “Where they use to hold slaves before the auctions. Now they use it to hold prisoners waiting to be leased out. Same difference to them.”
Auction house? Leased out? Jordan could not believe what she was hearing.
Mama asked, “How we get him freed?”
Freed. That word burned in Jordan’s soul. How could Samuel not be free? The war was over; slavery was over, yet her brother was being held in an auction house, waiting to be leased to work in the fields of a Southern plantation.
Miss Grace shook her head with a tsk and replied, “There’s not much hope of having him released early. I heard that a White man can get someone back if he say he’s his worker. The Freedmen’s Bureau supposed to have the power to make things right, but they don’t. There’s too many people doing too much wrong for them to keep up. And they packing up and leaving, so no one takes them serious.”
“We need to send word to yo’ father—fast,” Mama said to Jordan.
“You want to put Pops in harm’s way too,” Jordan challenged.
Ignoring Jordan’s outburst, Miss Grace chimed in, “Send a telegram. They’re expensive, but it’s guaranteed to get there by tomorrow morning.”
Mama nodded.
“The fewer the words the less it costs,” Miss Grace explained.
Mama suggested, “How about: Samuel captured. Come now.”
Getting the message that she needed to act more maturely, Jordan took a deep breath to calm herself. She was going to be helpful, not emotional. Jordan said, “That’s great, Mama. Do you want me to go to the telegraph office?”
Mama considered for a bit. Then she said, “We gonna go together. First there, and then back to the Freedmen’s Bureau.”
“All right,” Jordan said.
“Then we gonna find Lisbeth Johnson like your brother say,” Mama continued.
Jordan’s stomach danced. “You want us to go to the White part of town?”
Mama nodded.
“How can she help Samuel?” Jordan asked, working to keep her voice calm and respectful.
“That was her brother that took him,” Mama said.
Jordan’s sucked in her breath. “Are you sure?”
Mama explained, “As soon as I saw him I think his eyes look like I knowed him from before. When your brother whispered to find Lisbeth, I ’membered who he is,” Mama said.
“He can set Samuel free?” Jordan asked, hope stirring in her.
“If’n he wants to,” Mama said with a nod.
Then Mama turned her attention to the other woman. “Miss Grace, we thin’ we may have found one of the girls we lookin’ for. Can you watch over her while we goes out?”
Miss Grace nodded. “I would love the company of a little one. I don’t get enough of ’em in my life.”
Jordan looked for Ella. In the chaos she’d been forgotten. She was curled up small on the ground, wedged between the sofa and the wall. The poor thing looked like her mind was lost in another world. Jordan slid down to the end of the couch and patted Ella’s shoulder. The girl startled and looked up at her. Jordan took her hand and gently pulled her toward the sofa. The girl looked wary, but she rose off the floor and sat down cautiously.
“Have you ever sat on a sofa?” Jordan asked, once again aware of the divide between her own life and this child’s experiences.
Ella shook her head. The girl rubbed her dry hands on the dark-green fabric. A small smile tugged at the edges of her mouth.
“This is velvet, the nicest covering around. Some people get dresses made out of it,” Jordan explained, nodding her head and widening her eyes to confirm this surprising truth to this little girl.
Jordan continued. “Great-Auntie Mattie and I are going to go out. This is Miss Grace. She will take real good care of you.”
The girl’s head dropped, and her shoulders rounded. Looking defeated, she said, “You leavin’ me here.”
“Just for a little while,” Jordan replied. “We’ll be back. I promise.”
“You jus’ gets to come and go wherever you like?” Ella asked.
Jordan sighed and considered the question. It was one more poignant reminder of the vast gap between the life she might have lived and the one she had. Before this trip she would have said yes without hesitation. But now she said, “Not everywhere, but many places.”
The little girl nodded as if she agreed, but her eyebrows knit together in doubt.
“We’re going to get Mr. Samuel free,” Jordan explained.
Ella shook her head and stared off into space. Her eyes took on a vacant quality, as if her mind were no longer in the room. Jordan found the behavior unsettling.
“I’ll see you in a few hours,” Jordan said gently, but the girl did not reply.
The telegraph and post office was their first stop. Mama and Jordan stood at the wooden counter watching the clerk work at his desk. No one else was in the office, so it was glaringly obvious that the White man was ignoring them. Jordan’s anger rose as the time stretched out. She stared hard at the man bent over the desk, hoping he could sense her energy.
Finally he stood up and sauntered over to the counter without actually looking at them.
“Good afternoon, suh,” Mama said in her most obsequious voice.
Jordan felt the bile churn in her stomach. This man deserved to be yelled at for his rudeness, and yet her mother was talking to him like he were a king.
The man grunted.
“We be wantin’ to send a telegraphy, suh,” Mama said, sounding even less educated than usual. “If’n that all righ’. I gots the money right here.” Mama pulled out a small stack of US Treasury notes.
The man’s face changed subtly, but still he didn’t say anything to them. He pulled out a ledger and said, “That’ll be twenty cents a word. Ten-word minimum.”
“I unerstan’, suh,” Mama replied.
Jordan flushed with embarrassment on her mother’s behalf. It took all her will to constrain herself from berating them both.
“Cans it say, Samuel captured. Come now, please.”
Contempt dripped from his voice as he said, “That’s only five words.”
“Yes, suh. We gonna pay for ten but jus’ send the five.”
Jordan was close to bursting out of her skin and desperately wanted to step outside before she said anything she would later regret, but she would not allow this man and his attitude to force her to leave Mama’s side. She turned slightly away from the counter and closed her eyes. While taking a steadying breath, Jordan recited to herself a line from Psalm 23: “Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for Thou art with me.”
She opened her eyes to see the man taking all of Mama’s money from her hand. Jordan cleared her throat. The man looked at her sideways. He peeled off three bills and handed Mama the rest back. Mama smiled politely and nodded.
Jordan’s heart hammered. She probably should ha
ve just let it go, but she was too outraged to stand by while this man cheated her mother.
“Excuse me, sir,” Jordan said. “Did I misunderstand you? Isn’t the price two dollars?” She smiled demurely.
The man grunted and placed a one-dollar treasury bill on the counter. Salmon Chase, former secretary of the Treasury, stared up at her from the paper. The man turned around and went back to his desk. Mama started to leave.
“Please address the telegram to Emmanuel Freedman, Oberlin, Ohio,” Jordan said, hoping she sounded calmer than she felt.
The man looked at her full on, a simmering rage in his eyes. “You tellin’ me how to do my job?”
Jordan took a shaky breath. “No, sir. My mama forgot to let you know where to send it.” Then she added, “She’s not smart enough to know about something as complicated as a telegram.”
“And you are?” he challenged.
“Oh, no, sir. I could never know what you know, sir,” Jordan said. Just a few days ago she would not have believed she could stoop so low, but now she understood what she would do in service of freeing Samuel. The man grunted and returned to his desk. Jordan wanted to see him send the telegram, but there was no point in staying in the office. She had no way of confirming that he would do what they asked. They’d just paid half a month of Pops’s earnings that might be for nothing.
Mr. Brooke immediately recognized them when they walked into the Freedmen’s Bureau, giving Jordan hope that he would work on their behalf. The room was as quiet as it had been when they were here a couple of days ago.
“Where’s the young man . . . um, Mr. Freedman?” Mr. Brooke asked, sounding proud of himself that he remembered.
Mama looked at Jordan, wordlessly encouraging her to do the talking in here.
“My brother has been wrongly captured by the justice of the peace. He has not broken any laws.”
Mr. Brooke’s face fell. “Oh, that is a shame. He was such a nice young man. And a fellow Ohioan too.”
“Can you offer us any assistance for securing his release?” Jordan asked.
“Well, now, as much as it pains me, there is little I can do,” Mr. Brooke said.
Annoyed at Mr. Brooke’s proclaimed impotence, Jordan simply stared at him.
“Is he still in Richmond?” the man asked.
Feeling a slight shimmer of hope that Mr. Brooke had jurisdiction, Jordan explained, “We believe he is at the auction house.”
“Isn’t that a shame!” Mr. Brooke looked incredulous. “The auction house. That is just adding insult to injury.”
Jordan stared at Mr. Brooke, waiting for him to take action. When he just looked at her she said, “Can you secure my brother’s freedom from this injustice?”
“I can make a request that a federal marshal investigate,” he replied.
“Thank you!” Jordan exclaimed, a mixture of gratitude and annoyance surging in her. This man’s kind but ineffective outrage would do nothing to help Samuel; he needed to take some action.
Mr. Brooke took out a notebook. He added Samuel Freedman at the bottom of a long list. Jordan noted that he remembered both her brother’s first and last names.
“His charges?” the man asked.
“Vagrancy,” Jordan replied.
“Oh, that is a shame,” Mr. Brooke said again. “It will be difficult for him to disprove that since he is not employed in the state of Virginia, is he?”
“No, sir,” Jordan said. “He is not.”
“Such a shame,” the man repeated, looking truly pained.
Fury welled up in Jordan. She’d never felt so helpless and angry in her life. Something she’d never before felt built inside her: the urge to punch this White man. She clenched her fists hard and shook them. Mama grabbed her forearm and turned her away from Mr. Brooke.
“We thank you for anythin’ you can do for our Samuel,” Mama said. “We gonna come back tomorrow to see what you find out.”
After they’d crossed the threshold, Jordan said, “Mama, I don’t know how you can be so calm with those men!”
“I gots years of practice, Jordan,” Mama said. “Years and years.”
Jordan sighed, though she really wanted to scream.
“Pray, honey,” Mama said. “You tell God all about how you feelin’. But don’ let none of those men see that they gettin’ to you.”
After the stress of those two offices, the dark and quiet church was a welcome sanctuary. Mama walked to the last bench and sat down to wait for Lisbeth. Jordan wasn’t as confident as her mother that the White woman would show up, but she followed her mother without comment. Who knew whether Emily had even been able to convey the message? Mama prayed quietly, and Jordan stared at the walls, willing her jumpy heart to slow down. She’d tried to pray as well, but she just couldn’t keep her eyes closed.
“Mattie?” a tentative voice said, interrupting the quiet. Lisbeth Johnson was standing over them.
A slow smile spread over Mama’s face. She stood up and hugged the White woman, long and hard. Mama took her two smooth, pale hands between her own and looked right into her eyes and said, “Thank you for coming, Lisbeth.”
“Of course, Mattie,” Lisbeth replied. She looked scared and young. “I’m glad you asked me for help.”
“Come sit.” Mama pointed to the bench. Jordan slid over to make room. Lisbeth took her hand. It was smooth and cold.
“I’m so sorry about Samuel,” Lisbeth said to Jordan.
Jordan’s chin started to quiver, and her eyes burned. She didn’t want to cry, so she bit her lip. Lisbeth nodded at her with a tight smile, but didn’t say anything else. She turned back to Mama. The two women leaned in close, their shoulders touching.
“Your brother took him,” Mama said, her voice high and tight. “Can you talk to him?”
Lisbeth’s shoulders dropped. She bit her lip. Jordan thought she looked scared, but eventually the woman nodded.
“I’ll do it, Mattie, though I don’t believe he will listen to me.” Lisbeth rushed out an excuse. “He is still so very angry that I married Matthew. But of course I will speak to him. I will call upon his vanity. Perhaps that will save Samuel from . . .”
Lisbeth stopped speaking. A tear pushed out of the corner of her eye. Jordan was touched that Lisbeth seemed to care so much, but like Mama said, strong feelings were of no help to Samuel. Her assurance that she would speak to her brother was something, but she did not sound confident in her ability to sway her own brother.
Mama reached out her hands. “Let’s ask for our Lord’s blessing.” Lisbeth offered her hand to Jordan. Jordan clasped the outstretched hands, completing the circle. Mama’s was warm and cozy and Lisbeth’s cold as snow.
“Dear God,” Mama prayed. “We’re yo’ humble servants. Thank you for listening to us. We ask you to keep us strong. Keep our Samuel safe, and return him to us. Provide a safe path to my Emmanuel as he journeys to us. And please, dear Lord, open up Massa Jack’s heart to yo’ love, ’cus we know he needs it.”
The Holy Spirit shot like a lightning bolt through Mama’s and Lisbeth’s hands into Jordan’s soul. For a fleeting instant, she was filled with hope, love, and calm. She hadn’t felt a moment of peace since that man, Lisbeth’s brother, had stopped his horse. Hour after hour, moment by moment, she’d been stifling panic. For just a moment she felt the kind of faith Mama was always talking about but Jordan rarely glimpsed. The feeling was gone quickly, but the echo of it left her with a measure of courage and strength. Somehow, they would get through this together.
She looked at Mama, then at Lisbeth. They smiled and nodded wordlessly. Perhaps they’d felt the Holy Spirit as well. Their eyes sparkled with unshed tears too.
CHAPTER 17
LISBETH
Richmond, Virginia
Lisbeth tossed and turned in bed that night, rehearsing what she wanted to say to Jack in the morning. She imagined the joy on Mattie’s face if she returned with good news. She wouldn’t let herself think too hard about disappointing her
. Lisbeth knew that to be successful she had to ask Jack in such a way that she did not insult or accuse, and that playing to his vanity was going to be the best route to success.
Over breakfast she gauged his mood. He read the newspaper to himself, but he had greeted her cheerfully enough that she decided to take her chance this morning. After he left the table she waited fifteen minutes and then went to his office.
Lisbeth screwed up her courage and tapped on the door.
“Come in,” his resonant voice shouted.
Her legs were weak as she approached her brother sitting behind the desk, the one Father had used in Fair Oaks. It brought back a mixture of childhood fear and sentiment.
“Jack, how are you?” Lisbeth asked, perhaps too sweetly.
“What do you want?” he replied briskly.
Lisbeth used her most flattering voice, putting aside her pride for Mattie. “I understand that as the justice of the peace, you have quite a bit of authority over prisoners?”
“How’d you learn that?” he inquired.
“Mother tells me about your work. She’s so proud of what you do for Richmond,” Lisbeth fawned.
Jack looked at her stony faced. Lisbeth gave him a forced, tight smile.
“What do you want from me, Elizabeth?” Jack growled.
“One of my acquaintances from Ohio was arrested this week.”
Jack stared at her, wordlessly daring her to go on.
Lisbeth cleared her throat. “I wonder if you have the power to have him released.”
“I do,” he replied. “I have power over all of the prisoners in Richmond.”
Lisbeth nodded slightly and swallowed. Her heart was pounding fiercely. “I realize this is a very large favor.”
Jack scowled. “You want a favor? From me?”
“I would not ask if it were not important.” Lisbeth hoped she sounded calm.
“Important—to you!” Jack scoffed. “You betrayed our whole family. You ruined us, and you ask me to take on your concern.”
“I have no right to expect anything from you, but I beg of you.” Lisbeth worked to keep her voice even. “Anything I can do for you I will. Please.”
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