by Judith Pella
The book she’d been reading clattered to the floor, but still she could not take her eyes from the outstretched land. There is a world out there, she reasoned, that I know nothing about, except through the books I’ve read. A vast and wondrous place with people and sights that I might one day know. Visions of the locomotive engine loomed before her eyes. I might actually one day board the train in Washington and ride it all the way to the Mississippi. From there I could float downriver and see New Orleans, then travel west and see what all the fuss is about in that place they call Texas.
Texas . . . what am I thinking? If I could just ride the B&O to Baltimore, I’d consider it the adventure of a lifetime.
Carolina mused on these thoughts for some time when a ruckus arose downstairs that made it difficult for her to continue to concentrate on her morose reflections. Hurrying to the stairs, she was stunned to find her brother York standing in the foyer, involved in a rather heated argument with their father.
“I didn’t ask to be expelled,” York retorted. “I simply defended our lifestyle and your good name.”
Joseph caught sight of Carolina’s surprised expression and called an end to the discussion. “We’ll deal with this later.”
“What has happened?” Carolina asked. “York, what are you doing home from school?” Neither man seemed inclined to answer, and so she asked the question again.
“Your brother got into a bit of a confrontation,” Joseph finally said.
“You mean he was in a fight?” Carolina asked, unable to hide her shock. In all her years she’d never known York to resort to fisticuffs under any circumstance. Turning to her brother, she noted the cut on his cheek and frowned. “I can’t imagine you putting a hand to any man.”
York seemed to calm at his sister’s words. He reached out a hand and patted her soundly on the head. “It’s a long story and not one fit for feminine ears.”
“Carolina, leave us to talk,” her father ordered. “York, we’ll take this up in the study.”
Carolina watched them walk down the hall. York’s shoulders were hitched back, stiff in a defensive nature. Joseph’s frame was just as rigid, but only in an attempt to quiet the fury that lay just within his means to control. Father and son, so much alike, she thought, that their very natures and temperaments were generally equally matched. But not this time, she had a feeling. This time was different.
“Father, hear me out. You have no idea what it’s like up north. There is no understanding or sympathy for the plight of the South. They don’t understand how the same tariff laws passed to aid them in stirring up factory productivity and industrial manufacturing could also be harmful to the South in keeping us from trading abroad. I tried to explain our circumstance, but all I got was a fistful of slavery issues and lewd innuendoes.”
“People have questioned slavery since the institution was brought to this nation. Before that even,” Joseph countered. “It still doesn’t justify your actions in getting yourself removed from school. You were nearly ready to graduate. Couldn’t you just have apologized?”
York drew a deep breath. “I refused to apologize for one very good reason. Richard Bedford not only insulted my way of life, he insulted me and impugned our good name.”
Joseph sighed and threw himself into a stout leather chair. “And pray tell, how did he do this? He doesn’t even know us.”
York came to where his father sat. “He sees all southerners as whip-bearing plantation owners who carry on illicit affairs with their female slaves.”
Joseph’s eyes widened. “He said that?”
“Exactly that, though he didn’t express it in such kind words,” York replied, shrugging out of his hopelessly wrinkled petersham coat. He tossed it to an empty chair before continuing. “He suggested it was a rite of passage taught from father to son. I simply lost my ability to reason and could take no more. I didn’t apologize because his behavior wasn’t warranted. Nevertheless, no one gave me the option to apologize as a means to remain in school.”
“I see.” Joseph had calmed considerably under his son’s explanation.
York saw that his father was past the initial shock and dismay of finding his elder son suddenly sent home in disgrace. He knew once he’d been allowed to explain the circumstances, even Joseph Adams would see the intolerable situation for what it was.
“So now what will you do?” Joseph questioned, eyeing York sternly.
“I honestly don’t know.” York plopped down on the chair opposite his father and folded his hands together in a pensive pose. “I know I have little desire to return to college. Especially in the North.”
“But you have less than a year left to complete your degree.”
“I’d have been finished now if not for that bout of measles two years ago. Besides, why should I waste my life at something I find essentially pointless?”
“If you don’t desire to continue with your education,” Joseph said seriously, “there is always the plantation. You are, after all, the elder son and the plantation will fall to your shoulders eventually.”
York shook his head. “I’ve no desire to run a plantation,” he stated simply.
Joseph started at the words. “No desire! Desire doesn’t figure into obligation and responsibility. You have a duty to your family, and upon my death they will look to you for their well-being.”
“I thought you above all other people would understand. I thought you’d remember what it was like to be forced into something you didn’t want.” York didn’t like to cause his father pain, and from the shadow that seemed to cross Joseph’s face, he knew he’d done just that. “I’m not saying that I’ll never want the responsibility of Oakbridge. I’m just saying it isn’t what I want at this time.”
Joseph fell silent for a long time, and York knew he was probably remembering the hopeless feeling of giving up on his dreams of westward exploration. Refusing to be the one to break the silence, York studied the rows of books and waited for his father to speak.
“I suppose,” Joseph finally said, his voice sounding tired and old, “I can well understand your reluctance to run Oakbridge. I do, indeed, remember the apprehension and anguish I felt upon becoming master of this plantation.”
“It isn’t a lack of love for my home, nor is it a lack of respect and love for you,” York said, suddenly desperate that his father not see this as a personal rejection. “I truly love Oakbridge, and the life I’ve known here has been perfect. I fought once for this world of ours here, and I would do it again. And . . .” He let his words trail off as he considered just the right way to voice his thoughts. “I wouldn’t trade my life for all the gold in the world. I love you, Father. I admire no man as much as I do you.”
Joseph smiled at his son with weary resolution. It appeared to York he had battled with himself and come to at least some form of conclusion.
“If not the plantation, perhaps there is a job in Washington that would suit your interests,” Joseph offered.
York perked up at this. “I would like to consider the possibility.”
Joseph nodded. “On my next trip to the city, I will take you with me. We can approach some of my friends there and see what types of positions are available. In the meantime, there is always the newspaper to consider. I seem to remember advertisements for a variety of positions. Perhaps one of those would be acceptable to you.”
“Thank you for your understanding, Father,” York said with a genuine affection. “You won’t be sorry.”
Carolina had returned to her room and had tried to concentrate once more on A Midsummer Night’s Dream. Then hearing footsteps pass by her door that she could identify as only York’s, Carolina slammed the book closed. She knew she had to talk to him. She and her brother were close, though nearly six years separated them in age. Still, he was the brother she had always sought out for advice or consolation. She supposed she revered him a bit, as only a sister could revere her big brother.
She went to his room and knocked. “York, may I
come in?” Carolina said.
“Come ahead,” he answered, but in a tone that did not at once set her at ease.
Opening the door and peering in hesitantly, Carolina smiled. “If this is a bad time, I can come back.”
“Nonsense.” York stood over a large trunk with several items in his hands. “I was just unpacking.”
“You aren’t going back to school?”
York shook his head. “No. I’m done with college.”
“What happened?” she asked. “How can you possibly say that you’re done with college? Why, an education is practically everything.”
York laughed. “And why do you say that, Carolina?”
“Because it is. There is so much to learn, York, and where else, if not the university, will you learn it?”
York put his boot brush and polish on the dresser before taking a seat on the edge of his bed. Carolina waited for him to speak and wondered if he’d consider her question too childish.
“There is always the school of life,” he finally said. “I don’t relish hours poring over books and the written philosophies of men I’ve never heard of. I’d rather hear the teachings of men who will change the future, men who might very well walk across my threshold tomorrow and say, ‘You there, come along with us. We have a plan.’ ”
“But so much of the future has come from thoughts of the past,” Carolina said. “How can you deny the importance of learning from what has gone before?”
“I don’t deny it. I simply don’t wish to steep myself in classes of it. I’m not unread—I enjoy a good book or newspaper now and again. But I have no real desire to waste any more of my life listening to old men prattle about the past.”
“Then what will you do?”
“Father’s already asked me that. I can only say again what I told him—I don’t know.” Carolina thought it odd that there was no real discouragement in his tone. He seemed almost invigorated by the prospect of uncertainty before him. “Father and I agreed that I would go into Washington when he next travels there, and that we would approach some of his friends with regard to employment.”
“I can’t believe you’d rather work at some old job than go to school,” Carolina replied with a wistfulness to her tone. “I would so love to go to a university and learn all there is to know.”
“Perhaps you think too highly of the university, Carolina. You can’t possibly learn all there is to know in four years—perhaps not even in forty!”
“I’d like the chance to try, though!”
“Bah! What good would that do you, a woman?” York leaned back on his elbows and grinned. “You’d never get anyone to seriously consider that proposition.”
“There are schools, I’ve heard it said, that take on women for the purpose of a college education.”
“Sure, women’s colleges. You could get a degree in crocheting or quilting. No wait—maybe you could graduate top in your class of china-cup painting.” He laughed merrily.
Carolina felt hot tears sting her eyes. How could he be so callous? How could he be so harsh with her dreams? At one time he’d cared more about her desires than anyone else. What had happened to the brother she’d once known so well?
“School obviously has its flaws if it’s made you like this!” she retorted in a huff and turned to leave.
“Carolina, wait!” York came to her and quickly turned her to face him. Seeing her tears, his expression softened. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. I’m sorry for being so ill-tempered. The university has left a sour taste in my mouth—that much is true—but I didn’t say those things to wound you so deeply.”
“Then why?” She wiped at her eyes, wishing desperately to not appear as a sniveling female in her brother’s presence.
“Because even if there were a college of credibility which would allow for your admission, what would it profit you?”
“What do you mean?”
“What could you possibly hope to gain by getting an education? You wouldn’t be allowed to use it in a place of employment. No man in his right senses is going to hire a woman to work when there are fifty unemployed men standing at his door.”
“What if that woman is smarter?”
“What if she is? Can she hoist a load of cotton? Can she keep banking ledgers and understand the needs of fellow businessmen? Can she run a shop based on anything of masculine interest and hope to be well thought of by her peers or even taken seriously by those who would criticize her nature?”
“Is it fair to penalize a woman for her gender? Can she not be allowed to expand her mind without facing public ridicule?” In her anger, the tears were resurfacing.
“Be reasonable, Carolina. What man would want a woman the entire world knew could outthink him? Even though I will concede there are women who are more intelligent than their husbands.”
“Husbands! Who said anything about husbands?”
York laughed. “I wish you could have seen your face just now. I might as well have suggested you take a dose of castor oil.”
At this Carolina couldn’t help but smile. She was a bit ashamed of her outburst. “I’m just tired of everyone trying to marry me off. I have other desires right now. It isn’t that I never want to marry—I just don’t want it right now.”
For a moment, all York could do was stare. Carolina wondered if she’d somehow managed to alienate him further.
Finally York cleared his throat. “I suppose I should tell you that I had similar words with Father in regard to my future. I told him I had no interest in running the plantation.”
Surprised by this declaration, Carolina held back her questions regarding her father’s reaction and said instead, “Then you should understand what it is to be expected to be one person, when inside, you’re someone else entirely.”
“I suppose I do.”
Carolina sighed. “I’m sure if anyone can understand me, you can. You’ve always understood me in the past, York.” She walked to the window and pulled back the curtain as she’d done earlier in her own room. “There is a whole world out there, denied to me because I am a woman.” She dropped the drapery and turned. “People cover it up, put a veil over it, and expect you to forget that it’s there. But I can’t, York. I know it’s there. Even with the drapes drawn tight and my face buried in my pillow, I know it’s there. And I know it’s calling me to be there, too. I want to learn mathematics and science. I want to study the stars in the sky and understand about the universe. I want to read about the countries of the world and the people who live there. Who they are, what they do, why they do it.” She felt her face flush. “I want to know about locomotives and the railroad. Oh, York, don’t you see? Husbands and babies will always be there for me, but an education can never be had once I’m tied to those responsibilities.”
York stared blankly at her for a moment; then his eyes seemed to brighten in understanding, and he went to Carolina and embraced her warmly. “I understand. I do understand. And, Carolina, while I’m still here at home, I’ll do whatever I can to help you. I’ll try to teach you some of the things I’ve learned, although science is not one of my strong suits.”
Carolina laughed and stepped away from him. “Neither would it seem that fighting is a subject to which you’ve taken well. Your face bears evidence of that.” Then she grinned. “Oh, York, thank you so much.” She reached a hand up to touch a bruised place above his eye. “I just needed someone to understand,” she said softly. “I just needed to know that I wasn’t alone and that somehow my dreams were attainable.”
“Well, I can’t get you into a university,” he said in voice clearly filled with emotion, “nor can I make those around you accepting of your love for the unusual. But I will do what I can, even if it is merely listening to you.”
Carolina nodded and leaned on tiptoes to kiss his cheek. “Now I know why you were always my favorite.”
“Because I spoil you?” York teased.
“No,” she stated quite seriously. “Because you don’t run away wh
en I show you the innermost reaches of my soul.”
16
Shattered Dream
James Baldwin refused the meal set before him in spite of the look of concern that crossed his mother’s face. “I’m not hungry,” he stated firmly. “Please just go away and let me sleep.”
“But James,” Edith begged, “you must regain your strength. The doctor said—”
“I don’t care! Just go!” He immediately regretted his sharp words when his mother’s face fell in complete dejection. “I’m just tired, Mother,” he said softly, adding a weary sigh as if to further convince his mother of his lie. “Please . . .” But he let the word fade away without stating what it was he desired. He couldn’t very well speak words he didn’t know, and right now he had no idea what it was he wanted.
Edith took the tray and turned at the door. “If you need something for the pain . . .”
“No, nothing. I just need to rest,” James replied. In truth, the pain was nearly driving him mad, but the ghoulish dreams induced by the doctor’s potions were worse by far. It wasn’t until his mother had closed the door behind her that James allowed himself to grimace.
His right leg, splinted and swathed in bandages, was still swollen and the source of much of his discomfort. The doctor had commented on the nasty break, at first even voicing the possibility that James would lose the leg altogether. Pounding his fist against the mattress, James tried desperately to ignore the throbbing which radiated upward from the leg into his groin.
“Better to have let me die than live as a one-legged man,” he muttered. He could only wait and watch in complete helplessness while time decided his fate, as it had that of Phineas Davis.
Phineas. The very thought of his friend seemed to block out the other harsh realities around him. James could still see the look of surprise on his friend’s face when the engine had derailed. Eddie had later come to tell him that a portion of the iron rail had broken away just enough to cause the track to shift. When the engine’s wheels had struck this portion of track, the thing just naturally derailed. Given their speed and Phineas’s precarious perch, the fatal action had resulted in his being thrust headfirst into the iron engine. His neck had snapped and death was instantaneous. The engineer and fireman had been thrown clear, and besides James’ injuries, no one else had been hurt.