In the Morning Sun (Hearts at War Book 2)

by Lena Hart

  Her new self, however, understood that she could never be content living a life with her head buried in the sand.

  Madeline sighed. “Part of me wants to get away from all this hate and injustice too, Jimmy. But then another part wants me to stay and show those bigots that their plans to intimidate and terrorize us won’t work.”

  He tightened his arm around her. “That’s the part I struggle within myself, which means I’ll just have to do my damnedest to protect you.”

  Madeline fell silent. She hadn’t been naive to think that emancipation would change things over night, but things were still changing. In the end, she was responsible for the schooling of over two dozen men and women who were a consequence of that change. She didn’t have time to waste on anger or resentment.

  “Now what is it you’re thinking about?”

  Madeline lifted her head from James’ shoulder and peered down at him. There were no more walls, no more secrets between them, and for the first time in a long time, she truly felt uninhibited…and free.

  Cupping his cheek, she leaned down and lightly brushed her lips across his. She drew back as a wicked thought suddenly entered her mind, and her lips curved in a teasing smile.

  “I’m thinking we haven’t made love nearly enough to satisfy me.”

  His eye widened with surprise. Then, without warning, he grabbed her and flipped her on her back. He moved over her, his lips inches away from hers.

  “I guess I’ll have to remedy that.”

  Wrapping her arms around his neck, Madeline lost herself under the loving caress of her husband’s skilled fingers. In his arms, she vowed to herself she would no longer allow fear or regret to keep her from reveling in life’s simple pleasures, and would instead live each day alongside him with abandon.

  James was her today and her tomorrow—her now and forever. He was her lover, her friend, and the light that made dreams of love and laughter part of her reality.

  Epilogue

  March 4, 1869

  Washington, DC

  * * *

  Six months later…

  “The question of suffrage is one which is likely to agitate the public, so long as a portion of the citizens of the nation are excluded from its privileges in any State. It seems to me very desirable that this question should be settled now…”

  Madeline stood with the crowd at the U.S. Capitol, watching from a distance as the war hero and now new president of the United States gave his inaugural address. Though she could barely make out President Ulysses S. Grant from where she stood, she was still excited to be among the many who had turned out for his inauguration. This was a momentous occasion and she wanted to bear witness to it, much to her husband’s reluctance.

  “Come, love,” James said close to her ear. “We should start back now before the crowd breaks and the parade starts.”

  James took her hand and led her through the crowd of huddled bodies, wrapped in heavy coats. Madeline rested her hand over her swollen belly as they made their way to the street.

  The weather was bitter and frigid, yet thousands of people, of all colors and races, had turned up on the steps of the capitol to witness the first elected president, since the end of the war, be sworn into office. Grant had won over many of the states and their electoral votes, including Nebraska’s, which she believed meant that many in the country were looking to heal and move the country forward.

  From President Grant’s speech, Madeline was hopeful of better change to come. The recent passing of the fifteenth amendment from the House and Senate had been a move in the right direction. Though women had been omitted from the bill, men of color could no longer be barred from practicing their constitutional right.

  James assisted her inside a waiting stagecoach and Madeline settled into the seat. A sudden shift inside her belly made her start and she pressed her hand against her stomach. James climbed in and sat across her. Another kick came and Madeline gasped from the pressure.

  James frowned. “What’s wrong?”

  She smiled over the sharpness in his tone. Taking his hand, she placed it over her round belly.

  “Do you feel that?”

  His eyes widened as their baby pushed lightly against her belly. It was an extraordinary feeling, carrying a life inside her and feeling it live and grow. With every day that passed, the soft flutters and subtle movements grew stronger and she never ceased to be amazed by it.

  “Is that our son in there?”

  “It’s our daughter,” Madeline said, her smile widening. “And she’s a little warrior. Just like her father.”

  James returned her smile then leaned forward and pressed his lips against her belly. “That she is. I can’t wait for the day we get to meet her.”

  “Soon,” Madeline murmured, rubbing her belly. She thought of the small life growing inside her and a fierce love moved through her. It was followed by an immense curiosity.

  What would their baby be like? What would be her favorite subject in school? Would she be shy or full of energy? How would it feel to hold her…?

  She had all these thoughts and couldn’t wait to bring their new baby into the world.

  “When that day comes, husband, I plan to join the suffrage movement. Our daughter is our future now and this nation can only benefit once it recognizes the value of giving women the simple right to vote.”

  James straightened and eyed her closely. “You don’t have to convince me, love. I’m always on your side.”

  “I know. I don’t mean to lecture you. I’m just tired and frustrated from the lack of progress.”

  Though the fifteenth amendment had been a positive step forward, the growing rift within the suffrage movement due to women’s exclusion in the amendment had created a divisiveness that only helped to further stall their efforts.

  “However,” James stressed, “I won’t allow you to tire or exert yourself while you’re carrying our child. First bring our daughter into the world, then we can continue the good fight.”

  “I wouldn’t call writing letters and signing petitions exerting myself. For now, I’ll let my pen do most of the work.”

  “Good. For a moment, I thought you had a notion of following in Mrs. Harper’s footsteps in traveling around the country giving lectures.”

  Madeline laughed. Maybe one day, but she didn’t voice those words aloud. She didn’t want to give her overprotective husband undue worry, and with her current condition, she understood her limitations.

  “So we will stay on in Washington?” she asked. “Continue our work here?”

  James laced his fingers between hers and kissed the back of her hand. “Yes, love. For now.”

  Though Madeline would miss the open, rural lands of the west, there was more she could accomplish from the battlegrounds of the nation’s capital—or rather from the office of their rented townhome. She wanted to secure a future for her sons and daughters, where they could hold their heads high as Americans. And with the election over, the fight to obtain equal rights for all colored men and women had only just begun.

  Madeline gave her husband’s hand a gentle squeeze. With a man like James at her side, the hope of such a legacy was just at their fingertips.

  * * *

  Also available in Kindle Unlimited…

  Enjoy an exclusive preview of this post-Civil War interracial mail-order-bride romance at the end of this book.

  Dear Reader:

  During my research for IN THE MORNING SUN, I got a chance to uncover so much inspiring history. In Notable Black American Women by Jessie Carney Smith, I learned more about women like Frances Ellen Watkins Harper, her writing, and her influences in the women’s suffrage movement. In The Civil War and Reconstruction, a documentary collection edited by William E. Gienapp, I read personal letters written by soldiers and officers, getting a true account of their feelings and attitudes of the time.

  * * *

  Despite the many issues faced during the Reconstruction era—issues such as racism, unlawf
ul voter restrictions, the neglect of veterans, and the lack of women rights—there were still the hope of brighter days to come. We may not be where we should be on these issues, but it’s my hope that stories like this can show what it means to our future when we all stand together for equal rights and justice.

  * * *

  I was excited to tell Madeline and James’ love story and give them the happy ending they deserved. If you haven’t read the “romantic and daring tale” of James’ great-grandparents, you can find James and Siaragowaeh’s story in A SWEET SURRENDER.

  * * *

  All my best,

  Lena ♥

  * * *

  Additional resources:

  A Shining Thread of Hope by Darlene Clark Hine and Kathleen Thompson

  Black Women of the Old West by William Loren Katz

  Frances Ellen Watkins Harper poems: http://www.poemhunter.com/frances-ellen-watkins-harper-2/poems

  A tale of forbidden love, forgiveness, and redemption…

  It’s the year 1866—the Civil War is over and slavery has ended…

  * * *

  Yet life for 18-year-old Gracie Shaw takes an unexpected turn when she is “encouraged” to marry a man sight unseen. To ensure the financial stability of her family, she agrees—until a handsome stranger captures her attention and makes going through with the marriage almost impossible.

  * * *

  Determined to start a new life far from his old one, former Confederate soldier Logan Finley boards a train headed west—to lawless territory. When he is entrusted with the duty to escort the loveliest woman he’s ever met, he realizes he wants more than just a fresh start. He wants her.

  Prologue

  September, 1852

  Northern Maryland

  “You’ll be free or die, woman.”

  Gracie watched as the stern old woman pointed the big, long gun at her mama. Fear paralyzed Gracie where she sat on the high wagon. Tightening her thin arms around her mama’s waist, she waited to see what the angry old woman would do.

  “Now you sat back down and hold on to your baby girl.”

  Her mama tightened her arms around her and instantly fell back into her seat. Gracie followed her down, never breaking her hold. The angry old woman slowly lowered her rifle, and the stiffness seemed to leave her mama’s slender frame.

  “But what if we get caught? Mr. Charlie gon’ whip us all good. Then he gon’ have Massa sell us down south like he say.”

  Gracie had never heard such fear, such earnestness, from her mama before. Actually, that wasn’t true. She had heard it once, a few days ago, when her mama had pleaded with Mr. Charlie not to whip her daddy. But the mean overseer hadn’t paid her mama’s pleas any mind. Her daddy had been beat anyway.

  And it had been all her fault.

  But tonight, with the air around them filled with fear and panic, all Gracie could do was cling to her terrified mama and keep her arms locked around her waist.

  “Your massa prolly kill you and your man if y’all go back. Then he’d sell your little girl. After he beat her. Is that what you want?”

  Her mama shook her head wildly. “No, no. Massa Flynn ain’t like that. Maybe…maybe if we go back, no one will know we missing?”

  “Hush, woman, and quit your squealing before you get us all caught. We ain’t make it this far just so you can turn back. Now, if your baby girl can be still, so can you.”

  “Moses, she just scared, is all.” The ragged words from her daddy were the first he’d spoken since they’d been riding under the guide of the moonlight. He could barely sit up straight from the lashing he’d gotten from Mr. Charlie, but he managed. “We don’t wanna go back.”

  The woman they called Moses grunted. “Good. Now we got less than an hour before we make it to the next station. This part of the land is gonna be a bit bumpy, so you tell your woman she better not jump up like she did while I’m driving this thing.”

  “She heard you,” her daddy rasped out. “Ain’t that right, Lynn?”

  Her mama swiftly nodded. Before long, they were again trampling through the dark road, with the dry autumn leaves and fallen branches crackling beneath the horse hooves and the weight of the wagon.

  The night before they’d started on their journey, her mama had told her that they would be leaving for freedom, that they would start a new life, that this old woman was the one who would take them to this “Promised Land.” Gracie didn’t know what to expect when they got there, and when she’d asked her mama if they would be happy in this new land, her mama’s eyes had filled with tears, but she’d laughed and hugged her close. “Yes, baby, we’ll be happy,” her mama had said. “A home where we’ll be safe and together is a great blessing.”

  Gracie was anxious now more than ever for them to get to this new land. Her mama was rigid with fear and her daddy was slouched over in pain. Nothing about tonight seemed like a blessing. They had left their warm cabin only to be out here, scared and cold. It wasn’t like they had it bad at their old home. Yes, Mr. Charlie was a mean, quick-tempered man, but Massa Flynn never raised a hand to them. He was a big, burly man with a funny accent and was usually smiling—unlike Mr. Charlie. Maybe if Massa Flynn had been on the plantation yesterday, he would have stopped Mr. Charlie from whipping her daddy.

  The wagon went over a hump and landed hard, jostling them in their seats. Her father groaned but made no complaint. Gracie wanted to tell her mama that she wanted to turn back too. To get back to their home and into her warm bed. But she didn’t dare say a word. The way the old woman managed the horse and buggy said she was determined to get them to their destination. Besides, if her daddy could endure without complaint, she would too.

  “Y’all see that light?” Moses finally said, breaking the silence in the wagon. “That light means we’re close to reaching friends.”

  Gracie pulled away from her mother and peered out into the darkness toward the direction the old woman was pointing. In the distance, she saw a soft glow of light. It wasn’t the brightest beacon of hope, but that small glimmer filled Gracie with a large amount of anticipation and faith. Their new life was near, and soon they would never have to be scared or cold again.

  The wagon went over another ditch. This time, they all bounced slightly from their seat. Without her mama as an anchor, Gracie slid from the wooden bench. She released a small screech as she nearly went flying over the wagon, flailing for something to grab. A strong hand latched on to her arm and hauled her back in.

  “Don’t worry, little darling. I ain’t never lost a passenger and I ain’t gonna tonight!” Moses released a quick chuckle before she eased her tight hold.

  Gracie peered up at the old woman as her mama gathered her in her arms. Once her heart slowed its wild beating, Gracie settled against her mama’s side and, with a soft smile, silently joined in on the old woman’s humming.

  The brightest daaayyy that I can saaayyy… Coming for to carry me hooommme…

  Chapter One

  June, 1866

  Outside New York City

  “She’s a beauty, for sure, Mr. Finley. How much do you want for her?”

  Logan Finley spat on the ground, taking his time before he answered. The right response was crucial in that moment if he wanted a good price for his brown beauty.

  “Two hundred.”

  The old shopkeeper whistled. “That’s pretty steep, don’t you think?”

  “You said yourself she’s a beauty. Strong teeth. Fine bones, too. I won’t take anything less for her.”

  The man made a show of thinking over the price, but Logan knew it was just a buyer’s ploy to get him to squirm over the potential loss of a sale. But two hundred dollars for his brown chestnut was, in his opinion, already a bargain. He hated to part with the horse, but he couldn’t make the trip west with her. He’d just have to hope he could find a suitable replacement with the money from this sale.

  “Do you want her or not, Mr. Morgan? I have other offers lined up for her.” Logan
didn’t, but the other man wasn’t the only one who had a few tradesmen tricks. Besides, the older man owned several local businesses in the town. He could afford it.

  “Okay, Mr. Finley. You’ve got yourself a deal.”

  Mr. Morgan stuck out his hand, and Logan grasped it in a firm handshake. He noticed the way the older man’s eyes widened as he looked down at his disfigured hand. He was prepared for the man to awkwardly pull away, as so many had done while they attempted not to stare at him with pity. The old shopkeeper did release his hand, but he didn’t avoid asking him about it, as Logan expected.

  “What happened there?”

  Logan glanced down at his mutilated right hand where his last three digits had been severed. It was now covered in scar tissue and rough, leathery skin. He usually wore his gloves in public, but with the intense summer heat rolling in, the thick black glove had been uncomfortable. But not as uncomfortable as the sympathetic look the old man was sending him. Suddenly, he was eager to get this last sale over with.

  “The war happened,” Logan finally replied, annoyed and embarrassed by the pity he saw on the man’s face. His hand was a small price to pay given the brutality of the war. Unlike his friends and his father, he was still alive, and that was all that mattered.

  Mr. Morgan made a sympathetic sound and shook his head. “You’re a brave man, Mr. Finley. What a tragedy that our country had to endure such a senseless war by those damn Johnny Rebs. But we sure showed them what for!”

  Logan grunted as the man slapped his back, but said nothing. It probably wouldn’t go over well with the old Yank had he known he was conducting business with a “damn Johnny Reb” and Logan wasn’t going to enlighten him. The modest savings he’d inherited, along with the money he’d made from the assets he’d sold, had afforded him minor luxuries, like new clothes, easy meals, and temporary lodging—luxuries many of his counterparts hadn’t been privileged to enjoy. After the Confederate army had disbanded, thousands of his brothers-at-arms had been left in the poorhouse, forced to work menial jobs, or enter into a life of crime, just to get by.