“I don’t want to waste my life slaving for everybody else.”
Mama smiled. “You’re young yet. You’ll change your mind. There’s pleasure in bringing up a family.”
But Hannah shook her head stubbornly. “Not me. I have too many things to do.”
“Like what?” Mr. Lawson encouraged.
“I’m going to climb a mountain,” she told him. “And I’m going to visit the president. And I’m going to cross the ocean on a giant ship and tour Europe. Maybe I’ll even go to Africa.”
“Mercy!” Mama exclaimed.
Joel offered her the ghost of a smile. “Then you better marry a rich man. We don’t have money like that.”
“I just told you, I’m not getting married!”
“Good thing,” Justin jeered, “‘cause there isn’t a boy alive who would marry you anyway!”
“Actually, you’ve touched on the reason for my visit,” Mr. Lawson put in.
Justin’s face opened in shock. “You want to marry Hannah?”
A laugh like the throb of an engine boomed out of the big man. “No, no. I’m afraid I’d be an old man by the time she changed her mind. No, Joel touched on the reason I’ve come.” He turned to Mama. “It is no secret that hailstorm destroyed a good share of your wheat crop.”
Mama’s eyes slid to her plate and she nodded.
“It has also come to my attention that your bank note is due very soon, and you are unable to meet it.”
Mama stared up at him. “Now how do you know that?”
Lawson smiled sympathetically. “Joel has been all over town feeling out buyers for certain items, including your north pasture. It was not hard to figure out.”
Mama sighed. “Josiah Patton has always wanted that bit of land, but with him gone to war and their herd of horses so depleted, Molly just couldn’t commit to the sale. Joel was trying to find another buyer.”
“Do you have much time left?”
Mama shook her head. “I’m afraid not. Oh, I hate the thought of the bank getting what we have worked so hard for!”
“I’d hate to see that as well. Mrs. Wallace, what if I told you that I have enough capital to offer you a small loan, say till the end of the year? Would that be of help?”
Mama gasped. “Oh, Mr. Lawson, truly? But you’ve already extended so much credit to others. Are you sure it’s wise?”
Mr. Lawson chuckled. “Don’t worry about me, Mrs. Wallace. They are secure investments. Would you be interested?”
Mama beamed at him. “Mr. Lawson, you are an angel!”
Chapter 10
Hannah always thought of autumn as a calm valley between two stormy mountains. The harvest, that insanely busy period of gathering and storing away food, was finished and cold weather would soon usher in a whole new host of chores. But for a few weeks the beauty of fall foliage and cool temperatures drove her into the woods.
There she might watch the chipmunks bicker and scamper through dry leaves with their mouths stuffed full of nuts. Or chuckle at the fat, rolling bodies of skunks and groundhogs as they browsed for just one more mouthful before their winter sleep. Regretfully, school always interrupted those sweet, lingering days.
Hannah walked to town alone. Justin had run halfway to the schoolhouse already, eager to reunite with his friends. She could just see his blond head bobbing over the farthest hill. Usually Joel accompanied them, but with Pa gone, Joel’s school days were probably over.
A crowd of noisy children chased each other through the schoolyard like a colony of squirrels. Off to one side, three ingenious little girls had tied together lengths of twine and weighted them with an old spool. Now they were busily swinging their jump rope over a bare spot in the yard and chanting silly rhymes with the fervor of a camp preacher. Wes, however, was nowhere in sight.
Sue Ellen waited primly on the schoolhouse steps with Mary Burns, playing a game of cat’s cradle. “Hannah!” she welcomed. “Come join us. If you can get your fingers in here, you can take my place. I’ve gone several rounds already.”
The girls’ fingers were woven with string like miniature looms.
“No thanks. Have you seen Wes?”
The design tangled and the two girls shook their hands loose.
“He’s out back,” Sue Ellen told her. “I think he’s in trouble.”
Depositing her books on the steps, Hannah went looking and found her friend stacking firewood behind the schoolhouse with less than his usual enthusiasm. Crossing her arms, she leaned casually against the corner of the school. “Are you wooing Miss West or just getting an early start working off your bad grades?”
Wes tossed a slab onto the pile and scowled. “Hannah, never let your pa catch you sneaking a draw on his pipe.”
Hannah’s laughter rang out above the sound of children playing. “Was it worth it?”
Wes shuddered. “He made me smoke the whole confounded thing. Got so sick I crawled behind the stable and puked out my socks. Now I have to stay before and after school until this whole load is stacked.”
Her eyes sparkled. “Maybe I can get Pa to send home some good Virginia tobacco for your next birthday.”
He shot her a look of pure disgust.
She chuckled. “Say, were you here when Tommy volunteered to stack wood for Mrs. Clark?” As the memory stirred, hoots of laughter began to bubble out of her till she could hardly stand up.
Wes rested against the pile and shook his head. “I never had to sit under the old biddy.”
She gasped for breath. “He filled the quills of five feathers with gunpowder and smuggled them to school in the center of a half-rotten log. Then he stacked a nice pile for her, put his piece on top, and just waited. Old Lady Clark threw it in the stove after lunch. It took about ten minutes to burn down to the powder, but when it started popping you should have seen her dance!” she whooped.
Wes slapped his leg and howled, but Hannah’s joy in telling the story suddenly spluttered like a spent candle. Somehow, the memory made Tommy’s loss more real.
“He got expelled for two weeks,” she finished lamely.
Wes scooched up next to her and punched her gently on the shoulder. “It’s too bad about Tommy. A real hard knock. But you can’t let it get you down. He died on his own terms, for the good of the country and for the glory of the North.”
Her guts felt like cold mashed potatoes, and for a moment she wondered if glory was enough to trade a life for.
“Just think of how he lived!” Wes continued. “Jiminy! Traveling across the country, seeing new cities, sleeping in a tent, camping with his buddies, cooking over an open fire then singing songs and telling stories around it after dark.”
The pictures Wes painted began to whet her old appetite.
“And when duty called, he met it. He fought bravely and died valiantly. He’s a hero, Hannah!”
Yes, Tommy had lived before he died. The freedom, the excitement, the expectation… She knew if the opportunity arose for her to escape the drudgery of her life, she would take it, too. Even at such a risk.
Her good humor flickered back. “I believe you have a job to finish, General McClellan.”
Wes snapped a sharp salute. “Aye, aye, General Grant!”
With renewed gusto, he threw four more logs on the pile before Miss West rang the school bell.
The teacher couldn’t have been any older than Seth. She was pretty, with dark curls gathered at her neck. She beamed at them from the front of the room and a dimple appeared in one cheek. “Good morning, class.”
“Good morning, Miss West,” they chanted.
“Welcome to a new school year. I am pleased to see all of you. Let’s begin this morning by taking roll.”
As the teacher called out names and jotted down attendance, Hannah reacquainted herself with the schoolroom. The same painted blackboard stretched across the front of the room. The same pictures of Lincoln and Washington graced the walls. Maps of Michigan and America hung in their same places, and the cloakroom h
eld the same lunch pails. The only differences from last year were a few new faces and the absence of others.
Miss West folded the roll book. After prayer and the pledge of allegiance, she stood before the class and smiled. “Much has happened since the last time we gathered. Does anyone have anything to share?”
A little boy in the front row slipped his hand up. “My dog had puppies, Miss West. Five black ones and a golden. They’re four weeks old now.”
“How wonderful, Samuel!” the teacher exclaimed. “Have you named them?”
“Just the one we’re going to keep. Pa says it’s foolish to name animals we ain’t keepin—”
“Aren’t keeping.”
“—but I came up with names for all of them and didn’t tell him.”
“I would like to hear about them. Will you make your puppies the subject of our first composition?”
The little boy nodded his head seriously, and Miss West called on one of the older boys. “James.”
James Beasley stood up with a half-smirk. Everyone knew he was sweet on the teacher, and he sometimes caused a ruckus just for the attention. He sauntered to the front of the room and cleared his throat with mock importance. “The Carter barn burned down in August,” he announced.
Loud guffaws sounded from his friends in the back of the room. “Shoot, everyone knows that!” one of them burst out. Candles, lanterns, and fireplaces could start a blaze that quickly turned deadly. It was a fear everyone lived with, but the Carter barn was old news.
Miss West warned the boys with a stern look before addressing James. “I did hear about that. I assume everyone got out safely?”
“They just lost some equipment,” James told her. “The stock was all outside, and it didn’t spread to the house. New barn’s already up.”
Half of the town had turned out to help rebuild, and judging from the snickers coming from the back row, most of James’s friends had been there too. But they didn’t call out again.
“I’m glad it wasn’t worse. Thank you, James, for that update.”
James grinned widely as he rejoined his friends and took their ribbing.
“Anyone else?” She scanned the silent room. “Nobody? Then let’s start out with current events. Can anyone name the policy change Mr. Lincoln made just a few weeks ago?”
Several students raised their hands. The Emancipation Proclamation was still popping hot news. The farmers lounging near the fireplace in the Wayland House rehashed it every evening, and it was still the topic of choice in the schoolyard after church.
Miss West called on Wes.
“He freed the slaves, ma’am.” Wes grinned smartly, winking at Hannah. Hannah rolled her eyes.
“That’s right, Wesley. Which ones did he free?”
Wes froze. “All of them?”
“I’m sorry, that’s incorrect.”
Hannah leered at her friend as he slumped in his seat.
Across the aisle Sue Ellen raised her hand. “He only freed the slaves in rebel states that haven’t returned to the Union by January first. So technically, it hasn’t taken effect yet.”
Hannah and Wes exchanged glances and rolled their eyes.
“Very good, Sue Ellen. Did anyone else read the copy of the Proclamation printed in the Record?”
A few hands went up. George Stockdale called out with the same bravado his brother Tommy had always shown, “My daddy read it to us and cursed Mr. Lincoln after every other line.” That made the boys in the back of the room laugh again.
“George, you may stand in the corner, please.”
George shrugged and stood up, towering over the teacher on his way to the front. “Sorry, Miss West.”
Wes waggled his hand. “What good will the Proclamation do, really? No one in the South is going to listen to him.”
“That’s a good point, Wesley. It probably won’t have a sweeping effect, but it will cause some changes to be made. At the turn of the year, it will be illegal for escaped slaves to be captured and returned to their owners, so bounty hunters will be put out of business. In addition, slaves will be set free in sections of the South that are liberated by the army. Before, we were fighting just to preserve the Union. Now, in addition, we are fighting to free the slaves, and not everyone agrees with it,” she said, glancing at George.
“I agree with it, Miss West,” Sue Ellen stated. “I think it’s wrong for anyone to own another person.”
“She would,” Hannah whispered to Wes.
“Hannah,” Miss West intoned, coming to stand meaningfully beside her seat, “perhaps you’d like to share your views.”
“No, thank you, Miss West.”
“Really, Hannah. I’d like to hear what you think about the president’s law.”
Hannah glanced at Sue Ellen, then at George listening from the corner. She shrugged. “I don’t really care one way or the other.”
“So you don’t believe slavery is wrong?”
The teacher waited, expecting her to continue. Hannah took a breath. “I guess I don’t hold too much sympathy for slaves. Sure they have to work. So do I. My family works hard for what we have. And if we don’t work, we don’t eat. At least slaves have someone giving them food and shelter and clothing at the end of the day.”
“Well spoken, Hannah,” Miss West praised, “but you have overlooked some important differences. For example, you benefit directly from your work. Unlike a slave, no one else can claim your profit. You also have legal rights: of land ownership, due process, the right to bring suit, and many others. As a free person, you never have to suffer mistreatment at the hands of an owner.”
Hannah shrugged again. The law meant nothing to her. She’d never even seen a Negro, slave or free.
The day passed slowly. By afternoon, Hannah’s seat ached, her head ached, and her hand ached. It required all her willpower to stay in her chair. Even so, she fidgeted like the little boys in the front row. When Miss West finally rang the bell, she dashed down the aisle ahead of everyone.
Justin exploded out the door behind her with his slingshot in his hand. Hannah caught his arm. “Justin, tell Mama I’ll be a little late for chores.”
“Why?” His chin thrust out.
“Because there’s something I have to do.”
He narrowed his eyes. “You don’t have nuthin’ to do. You’re just shirking again.”
Hannah’s voice tightened. “Shut up, Justin.”
“I don’t have to. You think you can do whatever you want, just because you’re older. But you sure ain’t good for much of anything.”
“Shut up, Justin!”
But he was unstoppable. “You’re just sneaking off with Wes again. Probably end up like Maddy. In fact, I wish you would get yourself hitched and move off somewhere.”
“I’m nothing like Maddy!” Hannah grabbed him by the ear. “Take it back, Justin!”
“All right! All right!” he winced, balancing on tiptoe.
She thrust him away and he rubbed at the sore spot. “But I’m gonna tell Mama you’re shirking your chores!” he hollered, setting off at a run.
Hannah waited till he was well down the Plank Road before storming off in the other direction.
Mrs. Clark answered her knock. “He’s out back.” She jerked her head to the rear and shut the door. Hannah stomped around the house and found the artist detailing the sketch of a hand. He looked up and appraised her. “What’s the matter with you? You look mad enough to horsewhip your grandmother.”
“Never met her, but my brother would do.”
“Ah, sibling rivalry. Makes me glad I never had children.”
“There’s no rivalry,” she scowled. “No matter what he says, I can outrun, outwork, and outshoot him, hands down. I’m worth two of him any day! I’m more than equal to any son Pa ever had.”
Mr. Covington scratched absently at his chin. “In my experience,” he drawled, “it’s the fellow who knows he’s guilty that always proclaims his innocence the loudest.”
�
��What do you mean, guilty?” Hannah could feel her anger burning her face. “Are you taking his side? Just because women can’t go to war or—or vote, you think all they’re good for is to mind the house, mind the farm, and mind the children?” She glared at him. “If anyone’s guilty, it’s the men who try to hold women back.”
Mr. Covington gave her a keen glance. “All I’m saying is that you must be pretty convinced of your brother’s words or you wouldn’t try so hard to prove them wrong.”
Hannah’s mouth popped open then snapped shut with a click.
“Anyway, he’s got you so red in the face folks will think I’m painting an Indian. Go get a drink of water and calm yourself down or we’ll end this session right now.”
Hannah wanted nothing more. Her pulse raced like a runaway horse, and sweat oozed from her whole body. At that moment, there was no one she hated more in the entire world than Elijah P. Covington. But she remembered the money in his pockets and stalked to the well to throw down the bucket.
How could he say those things? Of course she wasn’t trying to prove anything. At least, she wasn’t trying to prove herself to Justin. She already knew she could best him.
Then why did her brother rankle her so badly? She didn’t care what he thought. She only cared what Pa thought. She wanted Pa to be as proud of her as he was of any son—Justin, Joel, or Jeremy.
Jeremy!
She jolted to a stop. She wasn’t trying to best Justin. She was trying to best Jeremy!
Hannah plunked to her knees. She could see it now. For years she’d been trying to take the place of that baby. How could she possibly live up to such an impossible goal? No wonder she hated the farm.
But what could she do? She had to make up for Jeremy. Pa was counting on her, and she simply wouldn’t allow herself to disappoint him.
She returned ten minutes later and thoughtfully took up her position.
“Hold steady right there,” the artist told her. “I’ve got to start over. Some wild fool galloped a herd of horses over me the other day, and I spilled paint all over the canvas. Dad gum hooligan,” he muttered.
Despite herself, Hannah felt laughter kicking up its heels like one of Mrs. Patton’s quarter horses, and she fought to tame it. Mr. Covington griped behind his canvas, but she didn’t care. It served the old buzzard right.
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