by Ginny Dye
Robert grinned. He had seen Amber slip into the barn just after the sun rose. Right before she had entered, she had turned and given him a big wave of happiness. “She’s a wonderful little girl. It was the least I could do.”
Annie didn’t comment, but just kept gazing at him.
Robert finally squirmed under her examination. “Is there something you want to say, Annie?”
Annie studied him a few moments longer and then started pulling bacon out of the pans on the stove. “You just keep right on changin’.”
Robert didn’t pretend not to know what she was talking about. “I suppose I do.” The lines between whites and blacks faded a little more every day.
“That be causin’ you any problems?” Annie asked shrewdly.
Robert tightened. He had told Moses about the horses in confidence. “What did Moses tell you?” he asked, trying to temper the sharpness in his voice.
“Moses ain’t been tellin’ me nothing,” Annie replied. “I don’t need nobody tellin’ me somethin’ to know there be trouble brewin’.” She held him with her eyes. “I also ain’t seen nobody comin’ down that drive to buy horses. I was owned by a horseman for a right long time. This be the time of year folks should be comin’ around to look at them fine babies.”
Robert sighed, relieved in spite of himself that Annie suspected his problem. “People aren’t keen on buying Cromwell horses,” he admitted.
“Because of how you handlin’ all the black people on the plantation,” Annie observed. It wasn’t a question.
“Yes.”
Annie thought that over for a few moments. “Somebody gonna buy them horses,” she said stoutly.
“That’s what Moses said.” Robert took another sip of coffee in between bites of his biscuit. His eyes roamed out to the field where the foals, enjoying the cool of the morning, were prancing and running, their tails head high. He smiled. He never tired of watching them at play.
“You figure he’s right?” Annie pressed.
“I want to believe him,” Robert answered carefully. He had thought of Moses’ certainty last night while he had struggled to sleep, but he couldn’t honestly say he shared it.
“You figure it’s best to just worry about it,” Annie said blandly, her eyes kind as she watched him closely.
Robert thought about the conclusion he had come to just before he finally drifted off to sleep. “I figure it won’t do any good to worry, but it would be dishonest to say I truly believe it will all work out. I’m going to make sure those foals are well trained. What happens after that is not something I can control. I’m only going to focus on what I can do and then see what happens.”
Annie smiled. “You’re a good man, Robert Borden. You just keep movin’ forward. I predict you gonna be real surprised one of these days.”
Clattering feet ended their conversation. Robert grinned as John and Felicia burst through the door, followed moments later by Moses and Rose. Evidently, nine-month-old Hope was still sleeping. He had heard her crying late into the night, but it was the fatigue on Rose’s face that really tipped him off. Moses didn’t look much better. Both of them reached eagerly for the coffee Annie held out to them.
“Hi, Mr. Robert!” John crowed as he leapt up into Robert’s lap and wrapped his chubby arms around his neck.
Robert laughed as he managed to set down his coffee cup just in time for the assault. “Good morning, John.” He was constantly amazed that a four-year-old could be so huge. He was definitely his daddy’s son.
“I’m going to work with my daddy today,” John proclaimed importantly.
Robert smiled. There were not many mornings that John didn’t ride through the fields tucked in front of Moses in his saddle. “You’re going to be too big for that pretty soon.”
John frowned and turned around to eye Moses. “Is he right, Daddy? Am I going to be too big to go to work with you?” His ebony eyes seemed to darken even more with worry.
Moses took a drink of coffee, closing his eyes briefly as the first swallow slid down his throat. “You’ll never be too old to work with me, son,” he promised. “But,” he continued, “Robert is right that soon you’ll be too big to ride in the saddle with me.” His face held a faint hint of amazement that it was true.
“What will we do?” John demanded. He turned around to stare at Rose. “You have to fix this, Mama.” His little voice sounded almost imperial.
Rose smiled and knelt down in front of him. “When you want something, John, you have to ask for it. Not demand it.”
John stared at her, but the worried look didn’t disappear from his face. “Mama, will you please fix this?” he implored. “I have to go to work with Daddy every day!”
Rose glanced up at Moses. “Will you please put this little boy out of his misery?”
Moses grinned and exchanged a look with Robert. At just that moment, there was a knock on the front door. Robert lifted John and set him down on the floor.
“Is it here?” ten-year-old Felicia asked eagerly, her eyes flashing with excitement.
“Is what here, Fe-Fe?” John demanded, advancing on her. “Do you know something I don’t?”
“I just might,” Felicia teased, her eyes dancing. She looked over John’s shoulders at Robert. “Is it time?”
“I believe it is,” Robert agreed, not able to stop the smile that spread across his face. He held out his hand to John. “Would you like to come with me?”
John grabbed his hand quickly, but looked back at his mama and daddy.
“We’re coming, too,” Moses assured him.
“Is it a surprise?” John asked solemnly.
“Not for much longer, son. The only way you’re going to find out what it is, is to go with Robert.”
John grinned and pulled Robert toward the door. “Let’s go, Mr. Robert,” he yelled, his eyes snapping with excitement. “I want my surprise!”
Robert followed willingly. He had learned that while neighboring plantation owners weren’t interested in buying his horses, they were more than willing to take his money. It was actually Moses’ money, but no one would have sold to him, so Robert had handled the transaction.
When John flung the door open, he stared up at Clint towering over him. “Are you my surprise?” There was no mistaking the disappointment in his voice.
Twenty-year-old Clint, his handsome face wreathed in a big smile, reached down and pulled John up into his arms. “Aren’t I a good enough surprise for you, little man?” He laughed, and then turned around before John had to come up with an answer. “There is your surprise!”
Robert and the rest watched silently as John froze, his mouth forming a big “O” as he gaped at the driveway. His eyes grew wide and his mouth opened and closed several times, but he didn’t seem capable of speech.
Moses laughed, stepped forward to pull his son from Clint’s arms, and then walked down the porch stairs. “John, I would like you to meet Patches.”
John continued to stare at the black and white pony standing patiently in the drive. “Patches?” he whispered, his eyes devouring the pony. He turned back around to look at Rose, a huge question in his eyes.
Rose’s eyes filled with tears as she smiled at him and nodded. “Patches is yours, John. Your daddy bought him for you.”
Robert hid his smile. He knew Rose wasn’t at all sure John was old enough to ride by himself, but he had convinced her that he was riding before he was five, so John could too.
John turned back to stare at Patches for another moment, and then he gave a crow of delight and squirmed to be let down. When Moses released him, John took a tentative step and held out his hand. “Patches,” he said softly, his voice quivering with delight.
Robert just watched. He had already taught John to move slowly and carefully around all the horses, and Amber always watched him like a hawk to make sure he did.
John stepped forward slowly and lifted his hand to touch Patches’ neck. “Hello, Patches,” he said reverently.
&nbs
p; Patches turned his head and nudged John gently. Robert knew it was the first time John had ever been around a horse that didn’t tower above him. He recognized the instant look of love that suffused the little boy’s face. Robert had never forgotten his first pony — it had been love at first sight.
Moses moved forward and knelt down on one knee. “Do you like him, John?”
“I love him,” John breathed, turning away just long enough to look into Moses’ eyes before he swung back to stare at Patches. “He’s really mine, Daddy?”
“Yes.”
“And I can ride him?” John demanded. “All by myself?”
“Yes. I’m going to start teaching you after work today. Pretty soon you’ll be able to ride in the fields with me.” Moses’ face glowed with satisfaction and pride.
“On my very own pony,” John said, his eyes devouring Patches as he reached up to touch his face. He turned to look at Moses. “Thank you, Daddy.” Then his eyes swung to Rose. “Thank you, Mama.”
Annie stepped out onto the porch. “That be a real nice pony, John, but y’all need to get back inside this here house if you want something other than cold biscuits and bacon!”
Clint grinned as he reached for the bundle she held out to him. “Mama fed me before I left this morning, but I reckon I can eat more.”
“Ain’t never seen a time you couldn’t,” Annie snorted.
“You’re taking Patches?” John said, alarm filling his eyes as Clint took the lead line and turned away.
“Just over to the barn,” Robert assured him. “We built a special little stall for him. He’ll be waiting for you after you finish breakfast.”
John nodded reluctantly, his eyes not leaving his new pony as Clint led him away. “Bye, Patches!” he called. “Bye!”
Moses chuckled, swung him up into his arms, and climbed the stairs. “It’s time to eat.”
John was the first to speak when they sat down. “Fe-Fe, what about you? Where is your pony?”
Silence fell around the table as Rose waited for her answer. She and Moses had talked about getting Felicia a pony as well, but they weren’t sure she would want one. She hoped they hadn’t made a mistake.
Felicia smiled. “I don’t want a pony,” she said.
“Why not?” John asked, his astonishment clearly showing on his face.
“Because I want to spend my time doing other things,” Felicia answered promptly, a mysterious glint in her eyes.
Moses and Rose exchanged a look. Felicia had truly become their daughter since the day Moses brought her home after her parents were killed in the Memphis riots, but they were still discovering things about her.
“Like what?” John persisted.
Felicia merely smiled. “Other things.”
Rose new John wouldn’t give up his questioning unless she took charge. She would discover what was truly important to Felicia when it was time. Until then, she simply wanted to create a safe haven where the little girl could heal from all she had been through. Most of the time you wouldn’t guess the laughing child with twinkling eyes had seen both of her parents killed in cold blood, but Rose had learned to recognize the pained numbness that filled Felicia’s eyes at times. She turned to Robert. “I understand Moses talked to you about his idea yesterday?”
“About duplicating the Tournament and Ball the Blackwells used to host every year on their plantation? He did. I think it’s a wonderful idea.” Just saying the words brought back a flood of memories — meeting Carrie; winning the tournament on Granite; crowning Carrie as his Queen of Love and Light; falling completely in love with her. For a moment, the ache of missing her was a physical pain. He was so proud of her for being in medical school, but there was never a moment he didn’t long for her. Watching her depart four days early to return to Philadelphia had been excruciating. The only thing that made it bearable was knowing she felt the same way.
Rose smiled. “It will be a Harvest Celebration for everyone. They are all working so hard. They need something to look forward to.” She turned back to Moses. “And you’re sure you’ll be finished with the harvest by the third week in October?”
“We’d better be,” Moses responded lightly. “Everything is going smoothly,” he assured her. “We have a lot of work to do, but it’s getting done right on schedule.”
Rose exchanged an excited look with Annie.
“I already done talked to Polly and June,” Annie said, answering Rose’s question before she could even ask it. “They be just as excited as you are.”
Moses hesitated. “It will be an awful lot of work, Mama.”
Annie sniffed. “Ain’t nothin’ I can’t handle, son. When I get too old to do things, I reckon I be tellin’ you about it. That time ain’t come yet. You ain’t got nothin’ to worry about.”
Moses grinned. “Yes, ma’am,” he said meekly.
Annie snorted. “There ain’t no meek bone in your body, boy. Now eat that breakfast and get out to the fields. We’s gonna do our part on this side. It be up to you to make sure the harvest be done when you say it will be done.”
Moses laughed and reached for another biscuit. “You heard her, John. We have work to do. When we’re done, you’re going to get your first riding lesson on Patches.”
John bounced up and down in his seat as he stuffed a big chunk of buttery biscuit in his mouth and chewed as fast as he could.
Laughter rang through the house as the sun rose over the treetops and filled the dining room with glittering light.
Chapter Three
Sunlight was already streaming in through the windows when Carrie finally opened her eyes. She was confused by the feeling of hard wood beneath her until memories of the night before came flooding back. For several minutes she lay quietly, inspecting the room she had been too tired to notice the night before. The room was obviously a study. The walls were lined with elegant built-in shelves that bulged with books. Two rose-colored wingback chairs flanked a fireplace, and a massive desk was positioned so that whoever sat at it could look out the window onto the street. Remembering what Elizabeth had told her, she wondered if the desk used to look out over green pastures and trees. Surely it must be depressing to simply look out at trash and squalor now. Sounds from the street and aching muscles pulled her from her makeshift bed. In spite of what she knew she would see, she stood quietly and moved toward the window.
“It’s gone,” Florence said sadly.
Carrie turned. Florence was still covered by her sheet. The two had shared floor space in the study, sending their three friends off to the beds. “You’ve been up?”
“Yes.” Fatigue made Florence’s voice gruff and her eyes revealed her grief. “There is nothing left.”
Carrie scowled and pushed the curtains aside. There was a perfect view down the street toward Moyamensing Hall. The three-story building had been reduced to charred embers. She could tell other buildings had caught flame, but the fires had been put out before they could destroy anything else. Only the hoped-for cholera hospital had not survived. She wondered how many people had no haven to come to today. She knew it was at least fifty, but she suspected it was far more. Beds had been assembled for 150 patients. Carrie grappled with the mixture of rage and grief that consumed her. “What a waste,” she snapped. “What a total waste.”
“Not to them,” came a quiet voice from the hallway.
Carrie spun around to see Biddy Flannagan framed in the doorway, her tiny, erect frame almost glowing with the sunlight streaming in behind her.
Biddy stepped into the room. “I heard you moving around, so I decided to come up.”
Carrie was once again mesmerized by the soft glow of compassion and life in the old woman’s eyes. “I know they were scared,” she admitted. “I suppose I would have been too.”
“Yes, they were scared,” Biddy agreed, coming to stand beside her and look out at the blackened remains. “It was more than that, though. It’s the residue of centuries of abuse for the Irish here in America,” she mu
rmured. “There is nothing right about what they did, but sometimes you just can’t stop the anger from spewing out.”
Carrie stared at her. “Centuries of abuse?” She searched her brain for what she knew about the Irish. It took her only moments to realize it was next to nothing, other than what Matthew had told her about their part in the riots in Memphis and New Orleans. “I don’t understand.”
“No,” Biddy said easily. “I don’t suspect you would be knowing the truth about my people. It’s been well hidden, it has.” She looked directly into Carrie’s eyes. “It’s not been an easy life for the Irish here.”
“You said centuries.” Florence rose from her bed and came to stand beside them. “I thought Irish immigrants just started coming over in the early part of this century.”
Biddy laughed but there was no amusement in her voice. “Oh, they were coming for a right long time before then, lassie, but no one wants to talk much about the Irish slaves.”
Carrie gasped. “Slaves? The Irish?” Her brow crinkled. “I’m afraid I have no idea what you are talking about.” Her confusion made her totally forget about the fire.
Biddy nodded. “Come on downstairs. Elizabeth, Janie, and Alice are already up. Faith is making them porridge.” She held up her hand when she saw the questions in Carrie’s eyes. “I’ll answer your questions downstairs. You need to eat something.”
Carrie’s stomach rumbled loudly in response. Biddy and Florence laughed as they linked arms and walked down the stairs. Carrie tried to guess her host’s age, but the lively spirit and nimble body conflicted with the wrinkled face.
Carrie managed to hold her questions in while she ate two steaming bowls of porridge and two thick slices of hearty Irish brown bread slathered with butter. She hadn’t realized how hungry she was until she started eating. Only when her stomach was full did she reach for the pot of steaming tea sending out its heady aroma.
“Elizabeth told me you girls have had nothing to eat since lunch yesterday,” Biddy said.