She wondered whenever she saw a running stream or the stars in the night sky, or ate fresh rabbit meat, or cooked a stew like Betty Strong Foot had taught her. She wondered if they would ever see each other again. Life with Mama Iona was good, and God had given her a whole new family, an education, and a wonderful job teaching her people how to read, children and old people who were eager to learn.
If she thought back all the way, she’d marvel at how she used to sneak to read just because she was Black, and how Granny almost died from a beating because she was teaching people to read. Knowing Granny’s sacrifice made Daylily more and more determined to teach for the rest of her life.
She still had her little skirt and jacket Betty had made out of Confederate uniforms. At first, when she got way too big for it, she let Vina Madison wear it, but after that she put it away to keep. It was the one thing she had from that time that would bring it all back as if it had happened yesterday. It was a small reminder of Betty’s cabin, Betty’s love, and it brought Luke and Caswell very close to her. She kept it in a cedar trunk that Mama Iona refused to trade for food, because it had been made by Zach’s own hands.
There came a day, then, that brought her up short. It was early October. Corn in Virginia had been harvested. They were making ready for the first frost. One day out of many others when there was something special in the air, in the way the sun shone off the dried cornstalks as she walked to the schoolhouse. In the smoke from someone’s stovepipe, she smelled breakfast.
But this day, she didn’t think about how to divide her ham and biscuit between those children who didn’t have any lunch, or about whether the school could pay her next term. She thought about how many years it had been since that day they had walked into Harper’s Ferry. Ten summers. It had really been ten summers, and now it was early fall. She realized with a start that it was time to go. She would set out in the morning.
CHAPTER 45
BEFORE THE FIRST FROST, 1874
Luke had worked for Percy until he was seventeen, and then he told the retired lieutenant that he had found work that would give him a better chance at life. He wanted a skill, and he could work in the railroad yard. He did not want to be a servant for the rest of his life, but he didn’t want to say that to Percy. They had parted as friends, and Luke would always be grateful to Percy.
As Luke walked down the street in Winchester, Virginia, he noticed three children walking together. They touched his heart. He never saw children without remembering. He never got through a day, really, that something didn’t remind him of Daylily’s giggle and Caswell’s natural stubbornness. He still carried sadness with him that he had not been able to say good-bye to them ten years ago. And he carried a pain in his left leg from the skirmish he had been in. One pain kind of brought the other one, always reminding him of what he had left behind in his youth.
But his limp was the last thing people noticed when he stood up to speak on the race question. His voice was strong, and his spirit was even stronger. He knew the war had been kind to him. He had seen enough battle to know that, even in one year. Others who were left living had missing parts and worse.
Luke had no bitterness about his wound. He was glad he had been able to help bring freedom, if only in a small way, and the wound was a symbol of that. Every time he thought of those days with Daylily and Caswell, he thought how much he would love to tell them about what he had done when he left the Madisons’. About how he had become a water boy for the Union troops, carrying water under fire, until he was shot in the leg. He wondered if they were still there with Mrs. Madison or if they had been split up by White folks.
This morning he was excited. He had learned that Frederick Douglass was coming to Richmond to speak. Luke planned to be there in the front row, learning everything he could about how to help in the struggle for complete freedom. Things were really bad these days, White folks were angrier than ever, and something called the KKK had taken the place of the overseer’s lash.
He was on his way to work. And he was lucky. Colored didn’t have much to pick from. They got the last jobs. Luke was working at the railroad yard, lifting and hauling railroad ties to help with the rebuilding. He limped, but that didn’t keep him from being strong enough to be a good worker. In his heart, he knew his real work was freedom building, and he carried a kind of light with him that other people couldn’t understand but followed anyway. He knew he had this light and he counted it a gift, a second sight almost. He carried with him always the memory of Aunt Eugenia and his mama, Betty Strong Foot, Daylily and Caswell. What he did, he did as much for them as for those to come.
All at once, he noticed that the children he had seen were going in the same direction he was. Two boys and a girl. And then he remembered. Ten summers. The tenth summer was here. The corn was already harvested, and it was time. They had not had a cold snap yet.
He couldn’t let them down. He had to be there. If he hitched a ride on the way to Harper’s Ferry, he could walk the rest of the way. Work would have to wait. And Mr. Douglass would have to wait. He had made a promise to Daylily that he wouldn’t get killed, and he had to keep that promise.
CHAPTER 46
REUNION
As he felt his way through the woods, following the river and dodging low hanging branches, Caswell couldn’t help feeling excited. It still amazed him that they had all survived that ten days in the woods and all their adventures at Betty’s. He had been a baby, really, and the others weren’t much more.
He was the first to arrive. His heart sank when he didn’t see anyone as he approached the cabin. Suppose they had forgotten? Or maybe Luke did go off and get himself killed, and maybe Daylily grew up and forgot both of them. Maybe she was married and had a house full of children and a husband who wouldn’t let her come. As he thought about it, he was sure that’s why she wasn’t there. Of course she’d be married. Who wouldn’t want Daylily for a wife, and what kind of husband would have her running out to the wilderness to meet two men?
His horse picked its way carefully up to the front of what he was sure was Betty’s cabin. Although slightly overgrown, it was almost exactly the same as he remembered it, only it looked even smaller because he was so much bigger. A few vines had begun to cover the sides of the log house. Betty’s little chair that she kept by the door where she went to smoke was still there. Yaller Feet wasn’t there, but his lean-to had almost collapsed, and the garden was completely overgrown with weeds. If Betty was inside, he didn’t want to startle her. He dismounted and tied Strong Foot to a tree, speaking softly and petting his horse’s nose. It is as quiet as death here, he thought. A robin began a song, and the sun went behind a cloud. No dogs barked a warning. He remembered when Yaller Feet and Pretty Boy were stolen.
“Betty?” he said, knocking softly. “Betty? You home?” The door wasn’t latched. He pushed on it and it opened slowly. Caswell looked around carefully. He didn’t want to surprise anybody, especially when he thought about the squatters that could be there using Betty’s cabin. He stepped all the way inside, and his first thought was that everything was so small. It couldn’t have been that small ten years ago.
And his second thought was that nothing had changed. It was all in place. Even the boxes that said “U.S. Provisions” and “Confederate Issue” were still there, but they were empty. He touched the ashes looking for warmth, but the hearth was cold. She had not been here last night, he guessed. Caswell sat down at the table where he had eaten so many meals for two months, and a great sadness flooded his heart. He had not once thought of the possibility that Betty could be dead, and he had not noticed the message for him lying on the table.
Luke would come, he thought. If he was alive, Luke would not let them down. Caswell got a book from his saddlebag, gave his horse some water from the river and settled in to wait.
It was late that evening when Luke walked up to the cabin he recognized as Betty’s. Intense memories crowded his mind in a rush. Tastes and smells and feelings all muddled in
to one. When he saw the horse tied outside the cabin, he was full of anticipation. At least one of them had remembered, unless Betty had got herself a horse.
Strong Foot whinnied, and then Caswell heard him. He went to the cabin’s door, not sure what to expect, and saw Luke standing ten feet away.
“My God, you tall, boy!” was Luke’s greeting. “You been growing like a weed or what, little brother?”
Caswell grinned, and Luke laughed out loud. They embraced as brothers, and for a minute there was a deep quiet between them as they felt the wonder of seeing each other again.
Luke broke the silence. “And you look right White too! Haircut and real boots! You ain’t been out in the sun lately!”
Caswell threw back his head and laughed. “Look at you,” he said. “Ain’t you a sight for sore eyes! All muscled up and clean-cut. Looking like a gentleman!”
“I’ll be a monkey’s uncle if you didn’t remember!” Luke said, laughing again. They punched each other on the shoulder in the way men do when they really want to cry. “Daylily here?”
“No, not yet,” said Caswell, “but don’t give up hope; you know how women are, always late!” They laughed again as if every movement, every word was a delight.
“Betty?” Luke asked in a more serious tone. He knew the possibilities. He had seen the war up close. Betty was living a dangerous life, and now he knew just how dangerous. Caswell shook his head.
“No Betty.”
They went inside the cabin and shut the door. Since it was near dark, they lit a candle. Caswell had a fire going. He had found a stack of small logs by the fireplace and a good amount of provisions, some dried meat and fish and some dried fruit. They talked themselves into the wee hours, sharing plans and ambitions, Caswell’s hope to become a clergyman and Luke’s to become a political activist. Times were bad. It seemed as one war got over, another, trickier one had started. It didn’t look good for Black people and freedom.
Things had been kept up inside the cabin. It was clean, somebody had swept all the cobwebs away recently, and Betty’s pots were mostly in place. Luke saw a feather and a small wolf carving on the table, but it didn’t really surprise him. He was so focused on the reunion that he didn’t pay any attention to the small objects. He just remembered that Betty always had Indian stuff around. The quilts were clean, and it was almost as if Betty had been expecting them somehow, although she knew nothing about their plans to have a reunion. After talking until the wee hours, they finally fell asleep on the old pallets.
CHAPTER 47
HARVEST
At seven o’clock that same morning, Daylily had started out for Betty’s cabin. She wore walking shoes and her teaching dress. Mama Iona knew where she was going and why, but she worried anyhow. Sure that it wasn’t good for a woman to be alone, she begged Daylily to use their mule and ride in the wagon, with the boys Zach Jr. and Matt.
Finally, Daylily gave in and said they could go, because she knew it would take at least twenty-four hours or more to get to Betty’s, even with the mule, but she said they couldn’t go all the way up to the cabin. She couldn’t explain it to them, but she had to do it alone.
Iona knew that this was something that belonged only to those who had survived it. It was only right for Daylily to be alone. Those three had kept each other alive. This belonged only to them.
About a quarter mile away from Betty’s cabin, Daylily said, “Y’all go on back now. Mama said wait till the sun moves a quarter of the way down the sky. If I ain’t hollered out, I’m there safe, and y’all can go home.”
She hugged them both and started out walking for the cabin. “I’ll be fine. Just follow the river back home. My brothers will see me home.” The youngsters settled in to wait, and Daylily disappeared around a bend in the river road.
As soon as she saw the horse, she realized she was nervous. It had been a long time since they were children. She was a grown woman now. Luke was a man. How would they feel, remembering all those things they did as children? Luke knew her better than anybody else in the world. He had seen her close to death, in despair, and half naked and desperate. And Caswell, she was suddenly realizing, was a young White man. In her memory, he would always be the little boy she had come to love, who had almost become Black, but now, today, it would be different.
Luke and Caswell heard or felt her approach, and opened the door. A young woman stood there like an angel in the woods, graceful, slim and dressed in blue gingham with a white lace collar. For a flash of a minute, they thought she was someone else. She had never been so beautiful. And then her face melted into the little girl with the dimples they remembered. They all stood face to face.
“My brothers,” she whispered. “Y’all are my brothers, y’all are the reason I’m alive today.” Her eyes got full, and all her shyness was gone in the embrace of the two young men who would always be her first family.
The day was spent in more talk, more sharing, and a lot of laughter, remembering how clumsy Luke was with a fishing pole, and how comical Caswell looked in his coffee-face disguise. Daylily and Luke each said where they were living, making sure they would never be out of touch for too long. Caswell shared what had happened to him at home, and he vowed to write as soon as he got settled.
As the afternoon shadows grew longer, they sat around catching up, wondering, talking, and thinking about Betty, loving and missing her. They were all thinking the same thing, each unwilling to conjure up what they felt might be true.
Daylily had brought a present for Betty, a new sewing kit, needles and thread in a leather case. Caswell went outside and dug a wonderful new pocketknife out of his saddlebag that he had brought for Betty, and Luke’s gift was seeds, melon, cucumber, and sunflower.
As she laid her gift down, Daylily noticed three objects on Betty’s little table—a bear claw, the carving of a wolf and an eagle feather. “Look, y’all, have you seen these?”
“Oh, yeah. What are you thinking?” Luke answered.
“Luke, I’m thinking she left those for us. Don’t you remember? She used to call us Gray Wolf, Little Bear and Blue Eagle. Don’t y’all see? She’s tryin to tell us something.”
Caswell fingered the wolf carved in wood. The wolf spirit, she had said, is courage, loyalty and faithfulness. His job is to keep the family together and share good medicine.
“She told me I am like the mother bear,” Daylily whispered. “Fierce and protective of the young. Like my granny, a teacher of the way. ‘Old Mother Bear knows things,’ Betty would say.”
“I don’t believe she gave me this,” said Luke. “Do y’all know how special an eagle feather is? You can get one only if you are a shaman, a healer. This was her mother’s. One day she told me her father left it to her because he didn’t have no sons. She was holdin it for her son or . . .” His voice trailed off. He was overcome.
“She is tellin me I have to become a great healer of the people, and lift them up,” he said quietly. “She has faith in me to do this.” His voice cracked with emotion.
“I thought the eagle had let me down,” he said, shaking his head. “But I was so wrong. I understand now. If Betty left me this, it means I am the eagle. I am supposed to help lead our people to freedom.”
They were all very quiet, lost in their thoughts of the past, realizing that Betty had believed in all of them, and had seen the lives they would lead. Luke lit the lamp and put it on the table. They sat around it silently, thinking and just being with their memories of Betty.
Finally, Caswell said, “Is there anything else around here? Anything to tell us where she is? Any clues?”
There was an old blanket hanging on the wall to keep out drafts over the place where they used to sleep. It caught Daylily’s eye, and she began to really look at it for the first time.
Caswell noticed her staring. He was puzzled by her expression. “Daylily, do you see something? What is it?”
She shook her head. “That old blanket that was always there? She was working on it while
we were here. There’s a picture in it I never noticed before. The threads are so much the same colors you can hardly make it out. I thought I saw . . . yes, see? There’s an eagle there. And over there a . . . yes, it’s a bear and . . .”
“A wolf,” said Caswell.
They were silent.
Then Luke said, “It’s a message. It’s us, woven together to look like one thing, but if you look good . . .”
“It’s everyone,” said Daylily. “Everyone different and the same. Like she used to say, the Great Spirit don’t care what color you are or what color the angels are.”
“Should we take it with us, I wonder?” said Caswell.
“No, she might need it,” Luke said.
Daylily shook her head. “She’s gone,” she said quietly. She was fingering her bear claw. “She’s gone. She won’t be back.”
“You mean dead?” Luke looked up from his feather.
“I don’t know. Maybe, maybe not. But she’s left here. She’s finished with this place. She only left enough food for our visit and blankets for us to sleep on. Didn’t you notice? She knew we were coming. But she’s gone. She won’t be back. You know Betty and her ways. Haven’t y’all felt it? I felt it, almost as soon as I got here.”
“I was afraid of something like that,” said Luke. “I just didn’t want to say it out loud.”
Caswell silently agreed.
They sat around the lamp a long time, savoring their memories, knowing it would be some time before they would be together again. Luke would be traveling. He was going to get a job with a Black uplift organization, and Caswell would be up North in some seminary. He didn’t know how he’d pay for it, but he vowed to them he’d find a way. Daylily thought she’d keep on teaching where she was, at least for a while. The presence of Betty was even stronger than it had been earlier in the day. They knew that wherever she was, she was with them.
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