by Ginny Dye
“Our time working together is almost over,” he continued. “Some of you will be staying, but most of you will have to move on and look for other work. I wish I could keep all of you, but it’s just not possible.” He wasn’t telling the men anything they didn’t already know, but he was trying to lay a foundation for what he was going to say next. “Freedom is not easy,” he said firmly, understanding the confused looks on the faces staring back at him. They thought they had been pulled together to talk about work.
“There was nothing about slavery that prepared you for freedom. You were beaten. You were told what to do every moment of your life. You were not allowed to make any choices of your own. You were held in ignorance, and you were punished if you tried to be something more than the animals most slave owners believed you to be.”
Moses prayed he would find the right words as he continued. “When Rose and I ran away, I didn’t know anything about being free. I knew I wanted it, and I knew I would do anything to have it, but I didn’t really know what it meant. Freedom was just a shining light that had pulled me forward for a long time. When I got it, there were times when it was overwhelming, and there were times I hoped I didn’t mess up my opportunity to live another kind of life.” He paused, certain the men were listening closely.
“The whites are just waiting for us to mess up,” he said. “They believe we are animals. That means they believe we don’t have the ability to live as free men. They believe we can’t take care of ourselves. They believe we won’t work to take care of our families. They believe we don’t care enough to get educated.” Moses’ voice rose, carrying his words through the still, crisp air with a strength and clarity that held everyone spellbound. “They believe we will all simply die off because we don’t have the ability to live life on our own, without them controlling us.”
He waited for the angry murmurs to die down before he raised his voice again. “They are wrong, of course, but one of the things I decided when I became free was that I was going to do whatever it took to prove I was different from what they believed. People in the North don’t look at us the same way as Southerners, but most of them still don’t believe we are equal. They just don’t believe we should be slaves.” He let his words sink in, understanding the anger suffusing the faces staring back at him. He waited for a long minute, glad when he saw anger being morphed into determination on most faces. He paused long enough to identify the men who remained nothing but angry, rage shimmering in their eyes and on their faces.
His voice became stronger as he spoke, slightly awestruck at the words coming from him. He’d done nothing to prepare because he had no idea what he should say. He had simply prayed a desperate prayer and then stepped onto the box. The words were coming from a place he couldn’t identify, but his confidence grew as they flowed from him. “Millions of black people have lived and died as slaves in America. Many of them gave their lives to pave the way for us to be free. My daddy was one of them. The men we lost in battle during the war paid that price as well. We all know some of them…” He let his words take root in their minds. “They have given us a gift beyond value. You are free. Your wives are free. Your children are free. Every single one of us has a chance to create a life that the slaves before us could only dream about.” He stopped, hoping his words were getting through. “What you do right now will determine if the price they paid was worth it.”
Dees silence was the only response as they all looked back at him expectantly.
“When you were a slave, did you dream of never being beaten again? Did you dream of being treated like you were as human as the people who controlled you? Did you dream of living a life where there was no fear?” Passion reverberated through Moses’ words. “Did you?” he demanded, taking a moment to gaze at each man standing before him. Most met his eyes squarely, others looked away.
“My question to you this morning is, are you are treating every person in your life the way you dreamed of being treated when you were a slave? Or have you become like the slave owners you hated so much and yearned to be free of?” Moses was aware of Simon’s startled look, but he wasn’t done. “Every single one of you has things to be angry about. There is nothing wrong with anger, because many times it gives you the motivation to change whatever is making you feel that way.” He took a deep breath. “It’s what you do with the anger that can create a problem. So I ask you again… Are you treating the people in your life the way you dreamed of being treated, or have you become like the slave owners you hated so much?”
Moses watched each man’s reaction carefully. He saw thoughtful looks on the faces that registered agreement. He saw caged anger on other faces, and knew he was looking at the men who were abusing their families. Pent up anger that intense demanded an outlet. His gut tightened as he thought of the women and children living in fear.
His eyes sought out Morah’s husband, Abraham, and he saw what he knew he would. The man was a capable worker, but he carried an intense anger that seemed to radiate off him. Moses tensed even more when he watched as Abraham’s eyes sought out Dexter. The two of them together were sure to mean trouble.
Moses understood Morah’s fear that direct intervention could make things more difficult for her, but there was only one thing he knew to do. “From this moment forward, I want it known that no man who works on Cromwell Plantation will be abusive to their family. If I hear of anyone hitting or beating their wife or children, I will let them go immediately. I realize many of you are moving on at the end of the season. Some of you have already come to me about writing a letter you can show to whoever you work for next. I’m more than happy to do that, but if I find out anyone is not treating their family right, you won’t get that letter.”
He stopped, searching for what else he needed to say. He could tell by the looks on the faces surrounding him that he had gotten through, but he felt like he was leaving things unfinished. “I know many of you believe your anger is justified. I agree with you. All of us have the right to be outraged about the years that were stolen from us,” he said. “What we don’t have the right to do is take it out on people who had nothing to do with it. The United States government has decided the black man is the head of the household. That might make you believe that gives you power over your family. What that really means is that you have the responsibility for your family. You have the responsibility to treat them well and give them a chance to build a life different than anything they have ever lived. You have the responsibility to treat your wife as your equal because she is,” he said. “Just because the government has decided men are better than women, that doesn’t mean it’s true.”
Moses wished Rose could be present to hear him. He knew she would be cheering. He felt like doing the same thing. He’d had no idea what he was going to say when he began. He couldn’t know if his speech would have the impact he hoped for, but he was confident he had been heard, and everything within him told him it had been powerful. He had done what Rose had requested him to do. It would have to be enough for now.
“Very impressive.”
Moses turned toward Simon as the men dispersed to their work. “Thank you.” He watched Abraham walk away, his face still an angry mask. “Do you think it did any good?”
Simon looked thoughtful. “I hope so, but only time will tell. June told me some of the women are suffering. The important thing is that you told the men the truth.”
Moses shook his head. “But if it doesn’t do any good…”
Simon interrupted him. “I didn’t say that. What I said was that the most important thing was for you to tell them the truth. You’re not responsible for what they do with it. You’re going to need to understand that as you move forward.”
Moses stared at him. “As I what?”
Simon chuckled. “You and I both know you’re a born leader, Moses. Didn’t you tell me when you got back from the riot in Memphis that you wanted to do more?”
“Yes, but—”
“Now it’s your time to do mo
re,” Simon continued, not even acknowledging his interruption. “Every man here today was listening to you. I’ve heard lots of people talk before that weren’t never heard. Every one of them heard you just now because you spoke in words they could understand, and you knew just how to hit them with what you were saying. Now, I’m not a speaker, but I sure recognize one when I see one.”
Moses opened his mouth to interrupt again, but Simon merely kept talking.
“It’s time for you to do more than talk about being a leader for your people, Moses.”
“I’m a tobacco farmer,” Moses protested, knowing even as the words came from his mouth that his days as a farmer were numbered.
“And a good one,” Simon agreed. “You’ve changed things for a bunch of men, but you’re meant for something much bigger than this.”
Moses turned his head to gaze out over the fields. He wanted to refute Simon’s words, but he couldn’t. He also didn’t know why he was still resisting. He and Rose had already made plans to go to college. He was already thinking about being a lawyer. Why was he still so insistent that he was only a tobacco farmer? He knew the answer before he even asked it.
Fear.
The acknowledgement made him both angry and resolute. He was sick and tired of being controlled by fear.
“Boy. You don’t neber stop bein’ afraid. Fear done grab you when you least expect it, but you can always count on it stickin’ its ole head in. Ain’t nothin’ wrong with fear, long as you don’t be lettin’ it control you. The best thin’ you can do is smile at it and then just keep right on doin’ whatever it is that is makin’ you afraid. I reckon them thin’s that cause you de most fear be the ones you be most meant to do.”
Sarah’s words roared into his mind with the force of waves pounding against the shoreline. The sound of them in his head was as strong as the day she had spoken them to him. And just like before, the peaceful feeling came instantly. The anger faded away, but his resolute determination was stronger than ever. “You’re right,” he said.
“Yep,” Simon replied, a smile flitting on his lips. “June told me you and Rose are going off to college next year. I was waiting for you to tell me yourself, but then decided I might be an old man before you got around to it.”
“I was waiting for it to seem real,” Moses answered. “Not saying it made it seem less real.”
“You don’t want to go?”
“I was afraid to go,” Moses responded. “I’m not anymore.” His decision to face leadership head-on had released an avalanche of feelings within him. Standing on that box and talking to everyone had given him a sense of satisfaction that nothing else ever had. He had been afraid of it, had been certain he wouldn’t know what to say, but the feeling of making an impact with his words was one he wanted to experience over and over. Now he could acknowledge that.
“You have to do more speaking,” Simon said.
“Yes,” Moses replied, surprised when the agreement flowed so easily. “I’m just not sure how.”
“You need to do a meeting at the school once a week.”
Moses froze. “Excuse me?” Deciding to do something was one thing. Having the venue presented to him was something else.
“The only way to do more speaking is to have folks to talk to,” Simon replied as though he was speaking to someone simpleminded.
Moses took a deep breath, pushing away the fear again. “I guess that is true,” he managed.
Simon nodded. “I’ll send out notice for the first meeting to be next week.”
Moses forced another deep breath, his mind racing as he tried to think of a way out of Simon’s proposal, while also admitting the idea gave him a thrill nothing else ever had. “Okay,” was all he said, “but I think we have to wait until after the Harvest Celebration.”
Simon thought for a moment. “That makes sense,” he finally said. “But after that…the next Wednesday?”
“Wednesday,” Moses agreed, wondering how it was possible to be terrified at the idea of speaking, while also wanting to be heard with all his heart.
Simon turned to walk away, but Moses stopped him. “There’s something else I need to talk to you about.”
Simon glanced toward the drying barns, about to suggest they talk later. He had a lot of work to do. The men in the barn knew their jobs, but he was proud of the fact he oversaw every barrel of tobacco that left the plantation. It was the only way he could be one hundred percent sure each delivery met Cromwell’s quality standards.
“It won’t take long,” Moses interjected, “but I need to tell you something.”
Simon turned back, intrigued by the sudden insistence in his friend’s voice. “I’m listening.”
“There’s a possibility you will take over the management of Blackwell Plantation.”
Simon’s eyes grew wide. Whatever he had been expecting, it certainly wasn’t this. “Come again?” His expression was one of bewildered confusion.
Moses chuckled. “You know Perry and Louisa Appleton are here on the plantation.”
“Yes.” Simon searched his brain for more information. “I know Louisa’s family owned Blackwell Plantation, which makes her and Perry the owners now that her parents and brother are dead. I know things aren’t going so well for them down in Georgia. I also know Louisa is like a fish out of water around here, because she has no idea what to do with black and white folks treating each other like normal.”
Moses nodded. “All that is true.” He had known June would tell Simon what was going on. He had been counting on it.
“It’s also true that Perry Appleton thinks no nigger will ever be equal to a white man, and he thinks your idea of blacks working his plantation like they do here on Cromwell is crazy,” Simon said bluntly. “I’m sure you understand why your statement about me taking over the management of Blackwell Plantation makes me wonder if you got kicked in the head by a horse.”
Moses shrugged. “I think Mr. Perry Appleton is going to see the light.”
Simon peered at him. “And you’re basing this on…?”
“On a feeling,” Moses admitted.
“A feeling…” Simon was back to thinking his friend had been kicked in the head by a horse.
“I know the look of a man struggling with his beliefs,” Moses revealed. “He came out on the porch a few nights ago when I was finishing the report for Thomas. The numbers stunned him.”
“They stunned me too,” Simon agreed, “and I was part of every back-breaking hour it took to make them happen. I told June how much money we are going to make, and she about fell over.”
“Anyway, Perry might be a bigoted idiot, but he’s a smart business man,” Moses continued. “He can’t argue with the numbers.”
Simon considered what he had learned about the Appletons and then slowly but firmly shook his head. “No, thanks.”
Moses cocked a brow, waiting quietly for him to say more.
“Me and June are real happy right here.”
“You can make even more money over at Blackwell Plantation,” Moses argued.
“I’m sure we could, but June wouldn’t be around her mama, and little Simon wouldn’t be around his grandma and his cousins. It’s hard to buy something like that.”
“But—”
Simon raised his hand. “It’s more than that. I realize Blackwell isn’t that far away, and I realize we could visit, so you don’t need to throw that argument in the pot. The bigger reason is that I don’t have any intention of working for a man who thinks he is better than me just because his skin is white. I’ve lived with that all my life. I’m done. He may figure out that I know how to make him a lot of money, but that doesn’t mean he’ll see me as anything but a well-paid slave. I like being somewhere where people see me as human.”
“What if Perry changed?”
“I don’t see that happening,” Simon said.
“Thomas changed. Robert changed. I changed when I quit hating white people,” Moses reminded him.
Simon hes
itated. “That’s true,” he finally admitted.
“Let’s just see how this plays out,” Moses suggested. “If Perry doesn’t change, then I will agree it’s a crazy idea.”
Simon shook his head as a sudden realization hit him. “Are you saying you don’t want me to take over Cromwell Plantation when you and Rose leave to go to school?” He tried to push away the hurt feeling that tightened his throat.
“What I’m saying is that Rose and I aren’t leaving until next year. What if something happened to delay us? This could be something for you right now. You would be in charge, and you could make a lot of money. I don’t want you to miss the opportunity. Think of what you could do to your place with that kind of money. Think about what it would be like if you could buy more land.”
Simon had just watched Moses push through his fears about speaking. What if he was hiding behind his own fears by not wanting to leave the comfort of the plantation? “We’ll see how things play out,” he finally said. “I’m not saying I will do it, but I’m also not saying for sure I won’t.” He managed a smile. “I don’t even think I’ll need to make a decision. Perry Appleton is never going to go for it.”
Moses smiled. “I tend to agree with you, but I guess time will tell.”
Louisa realized it would be incredibly rude of her not to help with the preparations going on for the Harvest Celebration. She had certainly commandeered enough celebrations at Blackwell Plantation over the years, but she had always been the mistress orchestrating slaves. She knew she had to acknowledge the changes emancipation had brought, but she couldn’t find it within herself to be comfortable with them. She also couldn’t find a way to be comfortable with strolling in to the kitchen and asking if she could help. She had been stuck in her room all morning as she tried to figure out what to do.
Not that being in her room was a hardship. She had not experienced luxury like this since she and her family had fled the plantation in the first year of the war. When she was in her small cozy home in Georgia she hadn’t missed it, but she could admit it was nice to be back in the world she had grown up in. She gazed around at the flowing white curtains and blue bedspread trimmed in white. Perry had laid a fire in the fireplace before he had gone out to the stables with Robert to go for a ride. Succulent smells were drifting up the stairway. If she closed her eyes, she could almost imagine none of the war had happened…or that she hadn’t lost the only life she had ever known. Almost.