The Silver Highway

by Marian Wells

  Her father’s heavy voice thundered, “Sally Ann, I’ll not have a child of mine attending school in such a place. Shall I read you the article again?”

  “No, dear, but I wish you would tell me why you object.”

  “I received this article at the time you received the information about the finishing school, which is in our beloved South. A fine and dignified school with a good reputation. I just happened to notice this article about that fine school, so richly admired by your friends.” His voice was filled with sarcasm as he added, “From the article it appears that one of the professors, mind you, of a girls’ school, upon hearing that his brother-in-law intended killing him, took a gun, went to the saloon where his brother-in-law sat, and murdered him. I don’t believe I care to have a man like that teaching my daughter.

  “If you will allow me to find a decent school close to Harvard—which I suggest for the express purpose of having her brother be responsible for her safety—well then, Sally Ann, I will consider sending Olivia to school.”

  There was a pause, then her mother sighed. “It is so far—but very well, dear. I know of just such a school. I’ll write today.”

  Chapter 2

  Matthew Thomas turned from the window and grinned down at the fellow sprawled across the one good chair. “I don’t know how you’ve come to be an upperclassman with grades that put the rest of us to shame. Most of the time you more nearly resemble a bum than a senior law student at Harvard.”

  “And you, my dear friend, take life much too seriously.” Alex Duncan sat up and wiped a hand across his face and hair.

  Matthew watched the hand, the amused grin still on his face. “See, you’ve been drinking all weekend, and you don’t have the shakes. It isn’t fair.”

  The door was pushed open and a wary face turned from one to the other. “Fair or not, he’d better sober up quick. I understand Howard’s quizzing us on Blackstone tomorrow.”

  “Blackstone?” Matthew groaned, “What part of Blackstone? And why in the world don’t they print books with a type you can see without getting your nose dirty?”

  The head disappeared as the fellow replied, “Then you couldn’t lift it.”

  Duncan got to his feet. “If it’s a test, we’d better get prepared.” He headed for the door.

  “Where are you going?”

  “The pub, where else? We need to get our blood a movin’ or we’ll never live through tomorrow. Come on.”

  “No. I take my education seriously. Alex, run along. Your tidewater pappy has more money to burn than my father does.”

  Alex turned, for a moment the laughter had faded, leaving his startling blue eyes nearly uneasy. Rubbing one hand across his thick mat of dark curly hair he said ruefully, “You remind me of my responsibilities to the clan. Did my pa hire you to say that at stated intervals?”

  Matthew shrugged. “Go on. I haven’t had a chance to open my mail.” As he shuffled through the contents on his table, Alex reached across his shoulder and picked up the newspaper.

  “Garrison’s tabloid, huh? Where did you get it?”

  “Garrison?” Matthew questioned, dropping the letter he held. “Who is he?”

  Alex chuckled, “You’re a Mississippi cotton baby and you haven’t heard of William Lloyd Garrison and his infamous newspaper The Liberator? Man, he’s an abolitionist.”

  Matthew took the paper from Alex. “Is he that fella Professor Matson mentioned—the one who pushed the North to secede in forty-one?”

  Alex’s smile was sardonic. “Better not read it. These here Northerners are looking for converts. Where did you get it?”

  “It was in my mail. I suppose someone’s getting in his licks—trying to make me see the error of my ways.” He chuckled and shook his head as he broke the seal on the letter he held.

  He caught Alex’s eye and grinned. “Letter from home—from Mother, and my sister,” he added as the second paper tumbled to the table.

  “Sister? How old is she, six?” Alex fingered the scrawled sheet crumpled into a tiny square.

  “Nearly seventeen.”

  “Doesn’t look like it.” Alex poked at the smudged paper.

  “Well, isn’t this 1855?” Matthew glanced up. “Don’t judge her by the letter. Seems you’ll get to meet her. My life is being hampered. According to Mother, she will be joining us in a couple of weeks to attend a Miss Arvellion’s Female Academy, just outside Boston.”

  “I can’t wait,” Alex said dryly.

  “Mother’s just surrendered her to the care and counsel of a Madame Cabet and her daughter, traveling from New Orleans with the destination of same school.”

  “Ah, sounds French; now that’s more like it. Bet they’re Creole. What I know about New Orleans makes the whole situation much more attractive.” Alex grinned, flipped his fingers in a mock salute and backed out the door.

  Matthew was still grinning as he dropped the newspaper in the trash basket, but the grin disappeared as he looked at the letters on the table. They lay beside Blackstone, and he shuddered.

  ****

  “Olivia, I can’t understand why you are going to that terrible, cold place just for school. Even South Carolina is better than the North.” Olivia turned to look at her cousin Lynda as she spoke. Lynda rubbed at the perspiration on her forehead and pouted.

  “Oh, Lynda,” Olivia protested in hard, bright syllables, as she shifted the portmanteau. “You just don’t understand; this place is so provincial. Mama says I need to broaden my outlook on life.”

  Lynda’s sister, Alberta, bent a brittle smile toward Olivia. “Olivia, I know you well enough to guess you wouldn’t go without being forcefully shoved on that boat.” Her smile was mocking as she nodded at the steamboat anchored off shore. “Culture!” she snorted. “You won’t get it in the North.”

  Olivia glanced over her shoulder. Mother was leading the way, and the pile of luggage being pushed behind her made it all terribly final.

  She gulped, and turned to smile at Lynda. “I just can’t believe my cousins are related to each other,” she murmured. “My sweet Lynda, I’ll miss you. And Alberta,” she looked at her cousin’s lank blonde hair, already thready and limp with the heat. “I’ll send you a—” Olivia swallowed the word beau and smiled before she added, “a letter right soon.”

  Mama was breathless as she paused and flipped her fan. “Good of you girls to come. We must get Olivia aboard right now. Oh, dear, what shall we do if the Cabets aren’t aboard?”

  She beckoned to the porter to lead the way. Lynda blinked and Olivia said, “I’m traveling with them. Crystal Cabet will be attending Miss Arvellion’s Academy, too.” Alberta’s eyebrows were still cocked high, but she picked up the basket of fruit and followed Lynda to the gangplank.

  Olivia tried to hurry along. Her feet tangled in her skirt as she looked over her shoulder at the sun sparkling on the bluff high above the Natchez harbor. Tears blurred together the white mansions and the dark green line of oaks behind them. Even the singing of the Negro roustabouts on the wharfboats seemed far away and retreating.

  She tried to concentrate on the words of their song as she blinked at the tears and trotted along the gangplank after Alberta. “Cotton in,” they chorused, “the last barrel, the last sack!” She nearly stumbled as one tenor voice lifted and sustained the note until a shiver went down her spine.

  The others had climbed the stairs winding around the engine room. By the time Olivia had her portmanteau up the steps, her family was clustered around the door of the salon stretching the length of the boat. Olivia had time for only a glance and a nod of approval at the plush furniture, the crystal, and the mirrors before Mama and a dark, round woman surrounded Olivia with rapid French.

  “Mrs. Cabet, my daughter Olivia. Olivia, you stay off the texas deck. She says Crystal has already ruined a frock with embers flying from the smokestacks.”

  Over their chatter, Olivia’s eyes met the dark eyes of the tall slender girl behind Mrs. Cabet. Her tawny heart-shap
ed face was the only motionless object in the room. Olivia immediately sensed kinship with Crystal Cabet; she watched her eyes twinkle as she looked from her mother to the slave beside her.

  Olivia still wondered about that feeling as the day wore on. Late in the afternoon the deep bell began its warning, and Mama, the cousins, and all the visitors surged toward the wharf. Olivia followed the Cabets to the rail to wave. After the steamboat had pulled away and the crowd on shore became dim, they lingered to watch the setting sun throw the shadow of their steamboat against the sun-brightened oaks dipping over the river.

  Mrs. Cabet disappeared into the cabin, and Crystal smiled at Olivia. “You need to meet the boat. Let me show it all to you—except of course—” she slanted a glance at Olivia, “the texas deck.”

  “The texas deck, too. I can smack embers faster than they can burn. We can stand upwind.” Crystal’s serene smile widened as she led the way.

  The boat turned into the channel, trembling as the paddles picked up speed. Olivia thrilled to the thudding beneath their feet as the smokestack threw a shower of sparks into the air. She paused to watch the deck crew swing the sounding pole aboard just as the young man holding the pole threw back his head and yelled, “No bottom!”

  “That means they’ll really pour on the steam.” Crystal glanced at Olivia, “I’ve traveled this route often since I was a little girl. We have cousins in Natchez, and I live in New Orleans.”

  “I’ve only taken a poky slow boat, and I love to go fast,” Olivia murmured. “I haven’t been on a steamboat for ages. But I hear the new boilers are so much better. Mama says our boat will be in Philadelphia in less than three weeks.”

  “But we don’t travel into Philadelphia,” Crystal said. “We’ll catch the stagecoach at Wheeling, and later we’ll transfer to the train.”

  “Oh. Well, that’s exciting too,” Olivia replied. She moved her shoulders impatiently and grinned at Crystal.

  “Let’s go see the gaming rooms,” Crystal whispered, “It’s too early for the men to be there, but they’re just beautiful.”

  Quickly they hurried up the stairs to the hurricane deck and Crystal led the way to the ornate mahogany double doors. As she reached for the door she murmured, “There’ll probably be some of the women in there, but they won’t mind.”

  “Women?” Olivia questioned. The door was pulled open and a woman eased through.

  She turned to face them with a frown. “Are you lost?”

  Crystal shook her head. “I—may we look inside?”

  Unexpectedly the frown disappeared, and the woman grinned. “Thinking of taking up a new career? Takes a lot of practice to handle the gambling tables. Want me to give you a demonstration?”

  “Gambling?” Olivia questioned. “Is that what you do?” She studied the long blonde curls clustered high off the woman’s neck. Her bright blue satin gown was cut low and much too tight, but somehow it seemed appropriate.

  The woman turned a mocking smile on her. “I’m Amelia Randolph,” she explained. “They call me a hostess. You might say I help the fellows have a good time—that includes serving drinks and lots of laughs along with the cards. Would you like me to show you how to deal cards?”

  Crystal shook her head vigorously.

  With a laugh, Amelia said, “I thought not. Better stay away from this place. Sometimes the fellas can’t tell the difference between—” She looked hard at Crystal. “Don’t I know you from somewhere?”

  Crystal nodded. “I didn’t say anything, but I recognized you. Didn’t expect you to recognize me, too. I’ve seen you several times in the past few years. We travel the boats frequently.”

  The woman nodded and turned back into the room. “Take a quick look, and then be on your way.”

  Crystal and Olivia went in and looked around, and after they came out of the room, Crystal glanced at Olivia. Apologetically she said, “Doesn’t seem nearly as nice this time; I must be getting older. Let’s go look at the dining room, and then there’s a place at the other end of the salon where we can go to read.”

  As they crossed the thick carpet, Olivia glanced at Crystal. Their eyes met and Olivia smiled. “You know, I’ve always wanted to travel, to do something exciting, but when my father finally said yes about school, I nearly had the shivers. I think I’m going to like it.”

  She paused, “Crystal, why have you decided to travel all the way to Boston for school?”

  Her lips turned up in amusement. “You’ll never believe this. I’m certain you’ve heard all kinds of naughty tales about Creole women, but Mama decided on Boston because everything about Boston is proper!”

  Olivia grinned. “I think we are going to be the best of friends!” Crystal smiled as she turned to wave at her mother standing in the doorway of their cabin.

  Mrs. Cabet watched the two girls as they walked rapidly to the reading room. Their swaying hoop skirts gently bumped against each other as they linked arms and hurried away.

  With a sigh Mrs. Cabet turned away. “Auntie T,” she murmured to the dark-skinned woman beside her, “I hope this won’t be a mistake. I trust Crystal, but I wonder what influences she will be subjected to? The North is a hostile environment. In Boston they don’t think as we do. Will she be seen as—common?”

  For a moment the two women exchanged a long look. “Now don’t you go fretting,” Auntie T said. “We talked this out, and you’re doing the right thing. Can’t keep chillen on your apron strings forever.”

  Mrs. Cabet’s lips trembled into a smile at the metaphor. Her hand reached for the dark arm. “Tell me I’m foolish to worry about her discovering anything about—”

  Auntie T’s head wagged slowly. “’Tis less likely that far from home. There’s been many tracks laid in Boston since Miss Evangeline was there. She won’t find out; don’t you be worrying about that.”

  Mrs. Cabet sighed and pushed her fingers against her forehead. “Auntie T, her skin is so dark. Will they scorn her in Boston?”

  Tammera watched her mistress with troubled eyes. Mrs. Cabet said, “You might as well say what you are thinking.”

  “Sometime I think she has questions, ’specially when you push all those fancy creams at her. They don’t do a thing about making her lighter. And if she ever found out by accident who her daddy is, it could kill her.”

  Chapter 3

  While the books lay neglected, Olivia brooded over the sullen landscape. Last night’s snow had knocked the last of the scarlet leaves from the trees and faded to black and white the gaily colored scene she had begun to like.

  There was a tap on the door. Glancing at the door, Olivia noticed the spot where the varnish had worn thin. She wrinkled her nose and shuddered. “Come in,” she called as she crossed the room.

  Crystal came into the room and dropped her books on the table. “Now tell me honestly, what possessed you to come to this terrible place?” The smile faded from Crystal’s face. “Surely you didn’t leave Mississippi just because you wanted to come to school where it’s cold and dreary. Oh, Olivia, isn’t this terrible! Let me guess. You have a dark, secret love affair with a rich, lecherous old man, who lives just around the corner.”

  “I didn’t know the place existed until last spring. Mama and Father sent me here. They’ve been threatening it for ages.”

  “Threatening?”

  “Well—it feels like punishment. I suppose they both decided I needed some polish.”

  Crystal’s smile barely creased her lips. “I probably fit in the same category. Although at the last, Mama seemed fearful about my coming here. In fact, I had to press her, to keep her from backing out of it all.”

  “She doesn’t seem well,” Olivia said slowly.

  Crystal shrugged. “That’s Mama.”

  For a moment Olivia watched the shadows in Crystal’s eyes. She is unhappy; but if so why did she come? Olivia turned with a shrug and added, “I’ve had a tutor. Both of us got our schooling that way, Matthew and I.”

  “Your brother?�
� Crystal asked, nodding. “And I suppose your mother was expecting him to take you under his wing, so to speak.”

  “I know she did. She investigated all the schools in the Boston area.”

  Wistfully Crystal said, “I’m an only child. You’ve seen my mother.” She sighed, “At home, life is stodgy, to say the least. I’ve always wanted a brother. Do you have a special relationship with your brother; is he wiser and older?”

  Olivia grinned at Crystal’s questions. “It appears that way. Sometimes I don’t think either Father or Mama realize how impulsive Matthew is. He’s always been fun to be around. But when trouble develops, I get the blame.”

  “And you’re always innocent?” Crystal’s smile was amused now.

  “You’re thinking of last week and that silly prank we pulled on Cassandra. She’s stuffy.” Olivia returned to the subject. “Matthew and I have always been close. But I haven’t seen him since we’ve come. Just a couple of notes saying he’s busy and will come as soon as he can.”

  “Sounds harassed.”

  “That’s what I thought. Anyway, I don’t intend to force myself on him. But I have an idea he’s afraid a younger sister will infringe on his lifestyle.”

  “That must hurt.” Olivia glanced at Crystal. “But at least you have a brother.”

  “And you don’t. I’m sorry. It must be lonely, being an only child. Your mother—I didn’t mean to pry,” Olivia murmured as Crystal pressed her fingers to her forehead.

  “It’s all right. It’s—well, sometime I’ll tell you about it all.”

  The following week in English class Olivia recalled the conversation with Crystal. When she compared the obviously wealthy girl with the drab atmosphere of Miss Arvellion’s Female Academy, the Academy seemed doubly dreary.

  As Miss Hanson walked up and down the aisles, placing a book just below each inkwell, she explained, “I’ve chosen a contemporary novel for you to read for discussion next week.”

  She turned, and Olivia forced her attention away from the knob of hair that seemed determined to shed its hairpins. Miss Hanson smoothed her apron with bony hands and crossed her arms to clasp her sharp elbows. As she continued to talk, her expression caught Olivia’s attention. Her lips were pursed tight under anxious eyes.