“Of course.” Annie could still envision the uproar as Sam and Gabriel’s father carried Laurence into the house, all covered with blood.
“Did he ever tell you how that happened?”
Suddenly suspicious, Annie drew back a little.
“He said Merlin was just feeling his oats and spooked.”
Jamie stuck out his lower lip and looked back down at his feet. “That isn’t what happened. Laurence had given me a hard time about running through the stable—he can act so high and mighty, Annie, you know he can. It’s not as if he’s my father or something.”
Annie said nothing.
“Well, I was good and mad at him for bossing me. So I hid in the bushes, and right before Laurence was about to take that fence, I threw a rock at Merlin and hit him on the flank. He reared, but Laurence stayed on. Then…I don’t know what I was thinking, I was just so mad, Annie. I stood up—Laurence saw me—and I chucked another stone at Merlin and hit him smack in the chest. That’s when he started going wild, bucking and running.”
“Oh, Jamie,” Annie gasped, “you could have killed Laurence!”
“I know that.” Jamie jumped up and slammed his fists into his pockets. “It should have been all right. He would have just gotten a bruised backside, if his big foot hadn’t caught in the stirrup and that crazy horse hadn’t dragged him all over tarnation.” Jamie glanced guiltily at Annie. “He never told you?”
“No.”
“He never told Mother either,” Jamie murmured. “Do you think she’d still love me if she knew?”
Annie reeled with the question. Her first instinct was to blurt out that no, Miriam would never forgive Jamie for doing such a mean-spirited thing. Yet Miriam was amazingly patient. How could Jamie be so jealous and ornery, just because Laurence tried to keep him safe? But then Annie thought about herself and hung her head. Hadn’t she often plagued her big brother with her own defiance of his protective common sense? She felt a rush of guilt.
Lord, Laurence was a phenomenal person, even if he did take his role as big brother and replacement father a little too seriously. Annie would have tattled on Jamie the first chance she’d gotten. It was astounding that Laurence hadn’t. But maybe it was Laurence’s magnanimous, almost noble spirit that made Jamie so mad at him, so jealous all the time.
Annie dropped her head into her hands. These were too many confusing thoughts for one day. But then, it was as if Laurence were in her ear, telling her it was time for her to live up to her role as an older sister. She straightened herself and took Jamie’s hand. “Of course she would, Jamie. You’re her son, her youngest child, which I know is a very dear place to be.” Annie smiled and added, “After all, you’re her baby.”
Wrong words.
“I’m not a baby, Annie!” Jamie ran away.
Would that boy ever end a conversation without darting away in a huff?
Toward the middle of the month, word came that the entire Army of Northern Virginia—all troops under Lee, Jackson, Longstreet, and Stuart—had indeed crossed the Potomac River at Point of Rocks, just north of Leesburg. For the first time in the year-and-a-half-long conflict, the Confederates were on the offensive. Lee’s popularity, the country’s faith in him, soared as some of his troops marched as far as Frederick, Maryland. Surely, Lee would be able to finish off the war soon with this maneuver. While Southerners turned their hopes northward, Miriam hung on to life.
In the midst of this hopeful news, the doctor returned to examine Miriam. He emerged from her room, very pleased with himself. “She’s weak, Annie. She’ll never be the same, that’s certain. I can’t tell how bad the damage to her heart is. Her pulse is quite erratic, skipping beats, fast as can be sometimes. But she’s survived the diphtheria.”
Annie grabbed the banister, dizzy from the intense rush of relief and joy. “May I see her, doctor? I haven’t talked with her for almost three weeks now.”
“Not yet. In a few days I think it would be safe.”
As they reached the door, the doctor turned and grudgingly said, “That darkie of yours is a surprisingly good nurse. I hope she stays with you. All the other ungrateful wretches are running off.”
Annie stiffened. How could this educated man talk that way about Aunt May? Clearly it was she who had saved Miriam’s life and not this pompous doctor with his paltry two visits and unused quinine. Ungrateful wretches? It seemed to Annie that the “ungrateful wretches” were the white families that Aunt May and so many of her race served so loyally despite their inherent bondage.
But all Annie could choke out was “Aunt May is a wonder, doctor. I don’t know what we’d do without her.”
The doctor raised an eyebrow quizzically before tipping his hat and strutting down the stairs.
Frustrated with herself for not saying more, not doing more to bring about the change she now knew was needed, Annie watched the doctor get on his spotless horse and trot down their lane. It was this kind of man who made all Southerners seem monsters; this kind of man who believed slavery to be right; this kind of man who probably did fight to keep people as property. Annie suddenly felt incredibly dirty. She turned toward the house, wanting to shut her door against the doctor and all he represented, all the things she didn’t want to think about, and all the things she’d done wrong herself. As she did, she noticed a wagon overflowing with chairs and bags pull into their lane. One lone cow was dragging all that weight and stumbling as it came. She raised her hand to shade her eyes and tried to make out the figures walking alongside the cow. A white woman, an African woman, and three children. The children trotted behind five hogs they were herding along.
So many strangers had come up their driveway asking for food and overnight shelter since the war had begun. So many hungry people scattered onto roads, not knowing their future. But it took Annie only a moment to recognize this group even though one was a stranger to her. It was Aunt Molly and Annie’s three little cousins.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
September 25, 1862
Hickory Heights
“After this round of warring right through my fields, I said to myself, ‘Molly,’ I said, ‘get to Miriam. She’ll know what to do for my babes.’ This time when they squabbled over Manassas, the Yankees took everything, Annie. They cut down all my corn for their horses, chopped down my apple trees for their campfires. They took off with my gobblers, even though poor Will stood outside the pen and begged them not to take the turkeys he raised up from eggs he’d searched the woods for. Lord, have mercy.”
She leaned across the teacup Annie had given her to whisper, “My boy isn’t the same since he fished up that corpse in Bull Run this spring. Trying to catch some fish for supper for me and his baby sisters, and there he pulls up a soldier’s skeleton, poor wee lamb.” She leaned back and shook her head. “I don’t know what will be left of the farm when we get back. John will be furious with me for leaving our land, but he’s off with General Pickett. Husbands just have to go along sometime. I can’t stay there with armies tramping over me.”
Annie tried to listen, while calculating where she was going to put them all to sleep that night. “Who’s the girl?” Annie nodded toward the young black woman Rachel was talking to out in the hall.
“That’s one of the Robinson kin. Mr. Robinson is a freeman, works his own one-hundred-and-fifty-acre farm, one of my neighbors. He used to do carpenter jobs for your uncle John once and a while.
“Do you know, those Yankees camped all over his fields, took his house for a field hospital, and stole everything he had. I mean everything—even though he told them he was free and it was his land and hard work they were ruining. You got to figure they’d go after us white folk. But they’re so mean, they wreck a man they brag on freeing. The Yankees tore down and burned a mile of fence rails—eight rails high!—around Mr. Robinson’s place. They ate his two fat cows, and made off with eight hundred pounds of bacon and sixty barrels of good clean wheat he had ready for market. I was lucky to escape with my hogs, ’cause they took all h
is plus his two horses, one worth two hundred dollars. He told me they even stole his cooking utensils. And they didn’t pay him one penny for it all.
“Now I ask you. Do you think those Yankees are going to treat the Negroes well if they free them?”
Annie didn’t know what to answer to that. Her head was swimming. She’d forgotten how much her aunt could jabber. Aunt Molly was in good form again, healthy and plump in her calico, and able to talk the broad side off a barn. She hadn’t yet answered Annie’s question regarding the girl’s name or why she was with them.
“Oh, land’s sake.” Aunt Molly laughed at herself. She was a jolly soul, Annie gave her that. “Her name is Lenah. Even though Mr. Robinson managed to buy his wife and some of his children out of slavery, a lot of his kin still is property of someone. Sad fact is, Lenah was about to be separated from her family and sold off. But Mr. Robinson talked one of the richer landowners around Manassas into purchasing her, to keep her in the area until he’d raised enough money to buy her out himself. Her owner then hired her out to Mr. Robinson. He saw me leaving and asked that Lenah come with us.”
“Aunt Molly, we can’t afford to hire her right now. Our fields and livestock are way down. The bluecoats have robbed us, too. If we were going to hire someone, it’d be a field hand to help us keep food coming.”
“Now, Annie, me dear, I know your ma can afford to take us in. Mr. Robinson said Lenah would work for free, for food and to be out of harm’s way, until the fighting’s over.” She leaned back and looked around the room. “Yes, ma’am, a fine place to visit awhile. Thaddeus would never let us near the place after he made off with your ma. Where is Miriam, anyway?”
Annie felt a flare of anger. Aunt Molly had been eating and resting for more than an hour before she thought to ask about Miriam. When Annie told her how sick she’d been, Aunt Molly crossed herself and muttered, “Diphtheria. Sure now, that’s bad. Can she swallow?”
Annie said she could.
Aunt Molly nodded. “Praise be.” Then she looked at Annie with an odd expression. “That’ll be making you lady of the manor. Would there be a room for me and my wee ones?”
“Of course, Aunt Molly. We’re family.” Annie stood up. But which room? She hated to put them in Laurence’s bedroom, purely out of superstition. She’d gladly give them hers and move in with Miriam, but clearly she couldn’t sleep there safely for a while. If she moved Jamie into Laurence’s room, he’d probably rail at being dislodged. No, there was nothing else to do but temporarily put them all in Laurence’s room, save Will. He could sleep with Jamie.
And what about Lenah?
Rachel solved that one. “Lenah can stay with us,” she said, putting her arm around her new friend. Like Rachel, Lenah had beautiful, large, black eyes and a chiseled, striking face.
Annie felt a strange pang of jealousy. She could see an instant bond forming between the servant girls. She foresaw many heartfelt chats between them in the two-room cottage that housed Rachel, Aunt May, and Isaac, and, until he ran off, Jacob, too. But Annie kept to her manners and said, “I hope your journey was not too arduous. Rachel will be sure to get you some food.”
“Yes, miss,” Lenah responded as she went outside to gather her bundle of belongings. She spoke in a clear, nonaccented voice, another similarity to Rachel.
Annie couldn’t help wondering why Lenah hadn’t lit out for Washington, as many slaves in Fauquier County were doing. It made sense to Annie that a young woman whose family was part free, and who clearly had some education, would instinctively want to head for the Union capital. Annie’s fear, of course, was that someday she’d wake up to find Rachel gone.
“Rachel?” Annie reached out and took her hand. “Why would Lenah come here and not…not…not stay with her family?” Annie couldn’t bring herself to broach the subject of crossing the line to the North with Rachel.
“Do you remember that sergeant, the night all those Federal soldiers camped at Hickory Heights?” Rachel asked.
Annie did. He’d made her skin crawl, both when he’d threatened Jamie and when he’d appeared from the shadows to talk with the girls as they hauled water. It was clear he was after something from Rachel—Annie was still uncertain what exactly he’d wanted—but it just felt wrong, as if he were trying to lure Rachel into something.
“Lenah wanted to get away from where the Federals were camped around Manassas. The Yankees scared Lenah, too, the way they talked to her,” Rachel continued. “I think the way the Federals will see Lenah or me will be a lot like it was for Rebecca in Ivanhoe, that book you lent me, Annie. Remember? She’s a beautiful Jewess and one of the knights, that cruel one, falls in love with her, mostly because she’s so different from him. He’s never seen a healer, someone dark like her, before. Just like I bet a lot of Yankees have never seen a Negro woman. And even though that knight in Ivanhoe felt for Rebecca, he’d never marry her because she was a Jew. His commanders couldn’t believe that a Christian could fall in love with a Jew of his own free will. So they accused her of witchcraft, saying she’d put a spell on him.”
Rachel looked away and spoke almost to herself. “I think it’s going to be like that for us with some Yankees for a while. Some of them are going to think of us in ways they’d never think of white women.”
When Rachel turned back, she spoke matter-offactly. “Anyway, I’m just staying here to wait for Sam. He loves Mr. Laurence and wants to see him safe through this conflict. But then…” She shrugged.
Rachel’s coolness hurt Annie. She frowned and drew back.
Rachel picked up on her feelings. “Annie, Mama and Daddy won’t ever leave you. You know they won’t. They love you and Missus Miriam and Mr. Laurence as if you was—were, I mean—their own. You’ve always been good to us. You’re good people. And this is my home. But you have to understand, I don’t want to be seen as anyone’s property anymore. I want to be my own person someday. I want my freedom. Wouldn’t you?”
Slowly, Annie nodded. Of course she would. She took Rachel’s hand again, and the look between them said more than they possibly could with words, given the strangeness of their relationship as defined by their surroundings. What if Laurence legally set Rachel and all their servants free as he’d planned? Could she and Rachel then truly be friends? She resolved to talk to him as soon as possible.
After a moment, Rachel spoke again in a hushed voice. “The end may be sooner than you think, Annie. Lenah told me there was just a terrible battle in Maryland, at Antietam Creek, in Sharpsburg. They heard the news on the road as they came here.”
“Oh, Rachel, did the Confederates prevail?”
Rachel shook her head. “The Confederates have crossed back over into Virginia. I don’t know what that means, except it sure doesn’t sound like a victory for the South.” Rachel paused. “Lenah said word was more than twenty thousand men were killed or wounded, all in one day, Annie, mostly in a narrow road they’re calling ‘Bloody Lane.’ There were dead men piled on top of each other waist-high in that farm lane. Wasn’t Mr. Laurence up there with General Stuart?”
Annie felt clammy. Indeed, Laurence was. And Sam with him.
It would be several anxious days before they heard that Laurence was safe, camped first at Winchester and then outside Martinsburg. Although Laurence joked about his experiences in a brief letter, written on a scrap of paper, Annie could tell that his surviving the fights and the harried retreat was nothing short of a miracle. Two horses had been shot out from under him, including his beloved Merlin. The last time, Laurence had been trapped under the horse as he hit the ground and was knocked unconscious. He was startled awake when a pair of hands yanked him up and out of the way of a racing supply wagon, just in time to avoid being crushed beneath the wheels.
The hands had belonged to Sam. Somehow, in the horrific frenzy of horses, men, and ambulances stampeding along the roadway home, Sam had found him. “I owe Sam my life,” Laurence had ended the scrawled note.
Annie didn’t read Miriam the e
ntire note. She made up parts of it, trying to lessen the unnerving details. Her mother was so frail and gray as she lay propped up in bed, so unlike herself. She constantly put her hand over her heart and took in deep breaths, as if to quiet a beast inside. Annie didn’t want to frighten her. Miriam needed quiet and happy news; Annie and Aunt May were both adamant about it. Aunt May guarded the bedroom door still, refusing to let anyone other than Jamie or Annie in. “Too much fuss and nonsense,” Aunt May had grunted, eyeing Molly and her children.
In fact, Aunt May had quite a standoff with Annie’s blood aunt. Annie heard it as she carried soup up the stairs for Miriam’s dinner.
“Out of my way,” Aunt Molly had demanded.
“That’s my sister in there.”
Annie sat down on the stairs to eavesdrop.
“You ain’t getting near Missus Miriam,” Aunt May had countered.
“How dare you talk to me that way? Miriam needs to remind you of your place in this house.”
“I don’t need no reminding. I raise up Miss Annie, Master Laurence, and Master Jamie from babes. I help bring up Mister Thaddeus, too, what you killed. I know where that scarlet fever come from that took him and those three boys. Missus Miriam brung it home on her from your house and your scroungy litter of Irish brothers and sisters.”
Annie heard Molly gasp and felt herself suck in a sharp breath.
Aunt May kept on the attack. Annie knew from her own fights with her that Aunt May had her arms crossed and her feet planted, a formidable mountain of fury. “I had no use for Missus Miriam when Mister Thaddeus first brought her here. New Irish. Not much better than poor white trash, I told him, even though she was a beauty. But then I come to see her for herself. A gentle Christian woman. Her kindness all the breeding she need. She act a lady without no training for it. She was good to my children and me. It was easy to love her.
“I see the way Mister Thaddeus scare her sometime, even though he say the sun and moon set and rose on her. He could be harsh, certain. I see how she suffered after her babies and husband died. I couldn’t do nothing to help her then. But I can now. She may have forgiven you infecting her—that’s her way—but I ain’t. And you ain’t upsetting her now that her heart is weak. You lucky to have food and a roof. Now, git.”
Annie, Between the States Page 14