by S A Ison
The waiting came to an end, in late September, Mary’s water broke while she sat on the porch with her master. Startled, John jumped up, holding Ida in his arms. He looked wildly about for help and found none. Mary’s voice calmed him down.
“It’s only my water John, don’t worry, the baby won’t be here for hours. I’ll go down to my cabin and have the women help me with this. Nothing for you to be concerned about.”
“No, I want you to have the baby here, in your mistress’ room. I’ll send for the women. I want you to stay in this house. Your husband can stay with you, if you need.” John said, fear lacing his voice. Mary stared at her master and she was flabbergasted that he would want to have her give birth in his wife’s room. She couldn’t fathom it; John had become almost enfeebled and depended on her a great deal.
“Alright John, I’ll go on up.” Mary said, reaching for the toddler. John pulled away, keeping Ida in his arms, almost squeezing her to keep her with him.
“I’ll hold on to Ida until she needs one of the women. You go ahead and go rest; I’ll send someone up to you and I’ll let your husband know your ready.” John said, his face flushed. Mary looked at the old man, she had no words and nodded her head.
Mary made her way up to her mistress’ room, unsure of what just happened. She wondered if John was losing his mind? He was holding onto her daughter as though Ida was a lifeline. Since loosing his wife and son, John had become almost childlike with Mary. He acted as thought the sun and moon shone only for her. It was as though they had changed positions, she was now mistress of the house and he, her servant. It just didn’t make sense any more, and it broke her heart to see John so broken.
She still hadn’t gotten over the loss of her mistress and she knew that John was just as devastated. She pulled back the bedcovers, and took off her gown, keeping only her shift on. She then went to the linen closet and began to pull old sheets and quilts out. She found old rags and gathered those as well. Liza and Nan came into the room sometime later. The told her Patina was busy with her son and Ida along with several other children. Nan went to retrieve a small caldron of hot water while Liza prepared the bed. She lay many layers of clean rags beneath Mary.
“Massa John is totin’ that child of yours, like she be his salvation.” Liza said conversationally as she crushed herbs into the wash basin.
“Liza, it’s a shame, John is so melancholy, that Ida seems to be the only one who brings him joy. He won’t let me out of his sight. He keeps cryin’ for the mistress at night and carrying Ida during the day.” Mary said as she shifted her body, trying to find a comfortable position. Nothing seemed to help.
“He’s a sad old man. Life is catchin’ up to him.” Liza grunted. She had also brought a kettle of hot tea. She poured Mary a cup and one for herself. Nan sat on the settee and looked out the window.
“He just sits and holding Ida and Drake, talking to them and to himself. Ida is such a joy, a happy child. John just seems to grow older by the day. Like life is leaching out of him.” Mary grunted with pain and stopped talking. She wished one of John’s sons would come home. She didn’t know what they would do should John drop dead. They could all be taken by neighboring farms or sold off and separated. Her heart skipped a beat at that thought and she choked down the fear.
“I’m gonna send a letter out to Theo. I’ll urge him to come home.” Mary said, once the pain had passed.
“You think that boy would get a letter?” Liza asked, surprise raising her nearly invisible brows.
“I don’t know, but I’ve got to try.” Mary said and sipped at the tea. It felt good going down and she was starting to feel the soothing effects of it. The farm was running well, but with all the fighting, Mary was afraid that the growing gangs of deserters would come and devastate the farm and its population. John was no longer an imposing presence.
Patina popped her head in, grinning, she had Ida. She rolled her eyes, “I sent massa John ta his bed. He needed a nap, lookin’ a might worn-out. He didn’t argue. I’ll keep lil miss Ida busy for you. She loves Drake and he loves her.” Patina held each child on her hip. Patina’s son, Theodore Drake Anderson, who was the spitting image of Theo, played with Ida’s hand. Though no one had officially told John that Theodore Drake was his grandson, Mary thought the old man knew. Sometimes he would call his grandson, Theo, mistaking the child for his youngest son. Drake’s fair complexion bloomed with health. He had started walking months ago and getting into everything.
Patina had kept the boy hidden from John for the first six months of his life. No one knew what John would do should he see Theo’s son. The boy was mixed, but you had to look hard to see it. After the loss of his wife, John rarely let the two toddlers out of his sight. At the end of the day, Patina had a difficult time prying Drake from John’s arms. Drake loved his grandfather and John loved Drake.
“Thanks Patina. Let Henry know if you need him to take her.” Mary said and kissed her daughter’s head. The child was sleepy as well and she knew Patina would put her down for a nap as well.
“That child is getting tall, just like her daddy.” Liza grinned. She walked over to Nan and looked out the window as well. It was now a waiting game.
EIGHT
Mary’s labor was shorter than expected and within a few hours, her son was born. He was long and healthy, sending up a mighty bawl. Henry heard the commotion and burst into the bedchamber. Liza and Nan rolled their eyes, at least he didn’t faint this time. Henry had been ordered out of the house and to the smithy, but it would seem he hadn’t listened. Henry sat on the side of the high poster bed, holding his son, when John walked in the open door. Henry immediately stood up, clasping his son to his chest.
“Be at ease Dark Henry, I merely came to take a look at the child.” John said, waving Henry back to Mary’s side. John walked over to Mary, his frail veined hand coming to rest on her shoulders.
“How are you feeling my dear?” John asked softly, his voice shaking.
“I’m fine sir, this was an easy delivery and I had the best of help.” Mary said, nodding to Liza, who was cleaning up. Liza smiled at Mary, and left the room. John looked over to Dark Henry, who was still holding the baby close.
“Boy or girl?” He asked.
“He’s a fine healthy boy.” Mary told him, pride evident in her smile as she looked at her husband and child.
“I have a request and you need not obey; it is merely a request. Can you name the child after my beloved wife? Victor? Perhaps as a middle name?” John asked, his voice hopeful and hesitant. Mary was touched, her eyes glossy with unshed tears.
“Oh, John, I would be proud and pleased to name our son after the mistress. I couldn’t think of a better name, Henry Victor Anderson.” She said, beaming at her husband. Henry’s beautiful smile indicated his approval over her choice and knew the master was well pleased. Both men left the room, leaving little Henry Victor with his mother. Both in need of rest.
Both men descended the staircase and went out to the porch. Evening was cooling and there was a gentle breeze stirring the trees. In the distance, the men heard the slaves coming in from the fields and knew cooking fires would be lit. The crickets and frogs began their serenade, blending with the music of life on the farm. Neither man said a word, but sat listening to their world. Tall Tom joined them, and he too sat quietly on the porch. They let the peacefulness of the evening cloak around them, warm and comfortable. In the companionable stillness, they heard the soft laughter of the women above and the soft cries of Henry Victor.
Harsh winter winds blew across the farm and bit into the very marrow of the bone. It was another cold winter. John had moved Patina and Drake into the main house, into a spare room. Mary smile at the children’s antics and held Victor. John seemed to be doing better with his sorrow, his life filled with children. He sat in the large leather chair in the study, with Ida was at his knee and Drake in his lap. Mary laid Victor into his cradle to finish the darning. The wind shook the windows outside, but insid
e, the study was warm. The men were out on patrol. There had been news of hostile activity. There had also been news that Theo would be returning home before spring.
Theo had been wounded again and would be returning home once he was able. Mary had sent two letters in late September apprising both Theo and Todd of their mother and Samuel’s deaths, as well as the precarious situation of the farm. She told them that many Union and Confederate troops came through, taking anything that wasn’t hidden. John had been unwilling or unable to write his sons with regard to his wife’s death. Mary had questioned him and was shocked that he had not written his sons. She had taken it upon herself to tell them, as well as request their presence home.
The increasing raids from deserters were alarming. Tall Tom had sent several of the men about the property with old muskets and pistols. Tom had instructed the men to shoot to kill, then to bury the bodies. Meager amounts of food were kept on hand to give the raiding armies. The bulk of the food remained hidden. It was feared that if they found nothing, they would fire the property. Tom ensured that only a fraction of their food supply was made available. The women still went into hiding, taking the children with them. There had only been a few occasions that a woman was caught out in the open, but with Tall Tom, Henry and Gabe, nothing had come of it.
Mary knew that John had been torn between elation and fear for his son’s homecoming. Wounded could mean many things. They had all heard stories from Samuel, via his letters, of the atrocious medical care of the fighting men. Many died from the attending surgeons’ tender care. Perhaps death was for the best after the butchery. John had spoken his worries aloud and his worry of what Theo would think about his son, Drake. Would Theo would acknowledge the boy or not? John had come to love his grandson unconditionally.
Children born of white masters were very common. Many of those children were set free as adults, many were kept as slaves, or sent away. Mary knew it tore at John, to think Drake might be sent away. One afternoon on the veranda, John had been in an agitative state about Drake. Drake and Ida were in the yard playing with several other children.
“I won’t stand for him sending Drake away.” John said with vehement.
“Why would you think Theo would send Drake away.” Mary asked, watching the children. She knew Drake couldn’t understand the conversation, but watched the child.
“I know Theo will want to marry Sarah. He won’t want a bastard reminding him. I just know it.” John said hoarsely, his voice quavering, tears standing in his eyes. Mary looked down at the sturdy toddler’s curly hair. Drake had light sandy hair and bright blue eyes, just as Theodore had when he was young. Theo now had dark brown hair with streaks of blonde, but the similarity was striking. The boy had no hint of his mother, except for his full lips and a slight flare of his nostrils. Mary was sure that many whites would never guess the child’s parentage.
“I think when Theo sees Drake, he can’t help but love the boy. Don’t you fret now, you’ll upset the boy.” Mary said gently, laying a hand on the old man’s shoulder. John wiped at his eyes and nodded. Mary looked over to Patina, who shrugged and shook her head. When had John Anderson become so fragile?
Patina was unobtrusive, letting her master dote on the child. The situation had turned out well for her and she knew her son would be well taken care of. She looked forward to seeing Theo once more, she wondered how he would receive his son. Patina still worked out in the house with Mary and caring for the children. She helped Cookie out as well, when her hands were free.
She hoped that Theo was safe. Her heart had nearly dropped when they’d received news that Theo was wounded once again. Her life and happiness were in Theo’s hands, she knew he loved her. But Patina knew that he would marry Sarah, and then her life and the life of Drake would rest in Sarah’s hands. If Sarah were a mean spirited and jealous woman, that would not bode well for her or her son. Only time would tell.
Life was getting harder, the Union soldiers found one of the squirreled away food stores and had depleted them of the much-needed food. Tall Tom sent the younger men out to hunt, supplementing their diet with deer or feral hogs. The sow had died and had been butchered, but part of that had also been found and was taken, over the strident protesting of John Anderson.
Screams jolted the farm early one January morning. Nan strident screams sent up the alarm. A group of rough deserters had entered her cabin and had beaten Gabe unconscious. The men were viciously raping Nan and stealing anything that was remotely editable. Nan was six months pregnant and her fists were beating against the rapist’s face. Nan’s oldest, Joseph, ran up to the main house, his small legs rubbery with fear and his screams echoing those of his mother’s. Joseph’s brothers crying desperately in the corner of the cabin as they watched their mother’s violation. Samuel screaming the loudest. One of the deserters walked over to the huddled children and kicked Samuel in the head. The silence was ominous and sickening.
Nan hearing the abrupt silence, renewed her fighting. One of the other men came to hold her down and Nan was beaten while the man raped her. Her unconscious body received vicious blows, rocking her great bulk. The other children whimpered, holding Samuel’s limp body in their small arms. Their small minds shutting down at the horror and horrific act.
John Anderson burst into the small cabin, flanked by Tall Tom and Dark Henry. The men brought pistols and muskets. Seeing the devastation in that small house, they opened fire without word, on the evil men. There were six men in all, and those men who were not killed by gunshot, were beaten to death by Henry and Tom. Other slaves gathered around the cabin as the bodies of the invaders were hauled out of the cabin and laid out in the yard. There were several unconscious slaves who had tried to help, their bodies littered the yard, among the dead. Their homes ransacked as well. The women were squatted by the unconscious men, trying to revive them. Some of the women picked up the stolen items, returning them to their homes.
Henry and Tom gently lifted Nan onto her pallet, putting her nightclothes to right. Checking Gabe, they found that he was alive, but his head had been split open and he was bleeding profusely onto the dirt floor. Tall Tom took part of the bedding and ripped it to bind Gabe’s head. Several of the women came in, bringing bandages. Their faces carved deep with fear and dread. Tom looked up when he had finished and saw Dark Henry holding little Samuel, the boy was dead. Henry’s eyes awash with tears, told John and Tom there was no hope for the boy.
Henry wrapped the small child in a blanket and laid him by his mother, who was still unconscious. Mary rushed into the cabin, meeting Liza inside the door. Liza sent up a howl of sorrow that filled the whole cabin and yard. She walked over to Samuel’s body and gently picked him up. She turned without another word and quit the cabin. Mary rushed to the bed and began to feel for Nan’s breath. It was shallow and her eyes fluttered but didn’t open.
Hearing a groan, they all turned to see Gabe coming around, his sons gathered round him. Tom helped him over to the pallet, beside Nan. John gave Gabe a dipper of water, from the bucket by the fire.
“What happened Gabe?” John asked, his voice husky and low.
“I heard a noise, like somethin’ movin’ around. I gets up ta see what’s what. I see men in my cabin and before I could do more’n move, they clubbed my head. I ain’t know nothin after that.” He grunted and then turned his head and vomited on the dirt floor. He wiped at his mouth and John offered the water dipper again and Gabe took a drink.
“My children?” He asked, his voice cracking.
“Lil Samuel didn’t make it.” Henry said in a low voice.
Gabe sent up a scream that filled the small cabin. His other children joined in. John wiped at the tears sliding down his face. Gabe rocked back and forth and then turned to look down at his unconscious wife. He placed a trembling hand on her brow. The other women had lit candles and had built up the fire. Mary was examining Nan. The news was not good. Gabe moved away from the bed to the table in the room. He sat and gathered his sons aroun
d him, their soft whimpers muffed in his large chest as he held them to him. John went out of the cabin, to deal with the dead men.
Mary moved about the cabin and then went back to Nan. Her hands moved about the woman’s abdomen. She could hear John’s voice, ordering the dead men taken away in a wagon and dumped out on the road, away from the farm. She looked up at Henry when he came to stand beside her.
“She’s bleeding, Henry. Nan might lose the baby.” She whispered; she didn’t want Gabe to hear.
“What can I do?” He asked.
“Get Bethy and Ginny. There isn’t much else for you to do. Take Gabe and the boys to our cabin. We’ll take care of things here.” She said gently. She knew that Patina would take care of the children at the main house. She watched her husband move to Gabe and lift the man under his arms and walked Gabe and his boys to their cabin. Mary’s heart was breaking.
Bethy and Ginny arrived to help Mary with Nan. The women moved about the small cabin, Nan moaned coming in and out of consciousness. Mary could hear Liza’s cries and once more felt the sting of tears. Gabe came to the cabin and looked in; his face deeply carved with devastation. Mary shook her head and she saw Henry behind Gabe. She motioned Henry to take Gabe back to their cabin.
Within a few hours, Mary delivered the stillborn daughter of Nan and Gabe. Mary’s heart shattered the dead child. She knew Nan would be devastated at the loss of Samuel and her daughter. Bethy took the tiny baby girl, wrapped in swaddling and took the child to her grandmother. Mary heard Liza’s wails once more, now for a lost granddaughter. Evil men had taken two precious babies. Mary sent Bethy to get Liza. She was having trouble stopping the bleeding. Liza knew more about childbirth.
Liza came into the cabin; Mary thought the woman had aged a decade.