Three Books in One: A Covenant of Love, Gate of His Enemies, and Where Honor Dwells

by Gilbert, Morris

  “Where’d you learn to shoot like that, Preacher?” Noah demanded.

  “Well, when you’ve got a single-shot rifle, a family of ten children, and a widowed mother to feed with what you shoot, you learn pretty fast.”

  Charlotte reached her hands out, and he took them without thinking. “Pastor, we are in your debt!”

  Noah huffed and said, “Good to see a preacher can be of some practical use around the place!” But he nodded, his old eyes grown warm. “Glad to have you at Gracefield. I hope you’ll be here often.”

  Irons watched as the two moved away, and he looked around to see Amos Steele, who’d come to stand beside him.

  “That was good thinking, Jeremiah,” Steele said with a warm smile. “It was fast becoming a pretty bad situation. Good thing you can shoot like that!”

  “God was in it, Amos.”

  “You sound like a staunch Calvinist. You think God’s in everything?”

  “By Him all things consist,” Irons said quietly.

  “Well, I’m glad you’ve come to serve as pastor here. I love these people.” Steele shook his head doubtfully, adding, “They don’t care for me, because I’m an abolitionist. But they’ll see the light one day. In any case, do what you can for them.”

  Irons said slowly, “Going to take more than a good sermon or two, Amos. The whole country is sitting on a powder keg. And the Rocklins are right in the middle of it.”

  Steele stared at the smaller man, a sober light in his hazel eyes. “It’s a grand and awesome time, as the song says. I’m no prophet, Jeremiah, but as I’ve been told, Noah said yesterday there’s a cloud the size of a man’s hand on the horizon. A dark cloud that I can’t quite understand—but I do believe it’s going to get bigger, and all of us are going to be under it.”

  CHAPTER 4

  THE CHOICE

  July was hot and sultry that year. The heavens withheld the rains, and fine dust rose in tawny clouds as wagons and horses traveled the roads around Richmond. Noah Rocklin did not bear the heat well, and it was on a blistering Thursday afternoon that he said to Thomas, “I’d like to be up North. So hot around here it sears a man’s lungs! And look at that dust over there! I feel like I got hot mud in my chest.”

  The two men were sitting under a huge oak in the backyard drinking tepid lemonade. Thomas glanced at the rising dust, then back to his father. He was worried, for Noah was exhausted, and the constant cough that had plagued him all summer seemed to grow worse day by day.

  “Maybe I ought to take you to Maine,” Thomas suggested. “You always liked it there. Ought to be cool, Father. I’d like to get some good sea air myself.”

  Noah shook his head, started to speak, then went into a spasm of coughing that racked his frail body. Thomas sat there, helpless, until the old man gained control. “No, I don’t want to die anywhere but on my own ground.” He took a swallow of the lemonade, and as Thomas began to protest, Noah said with a trace of irritation, “Of course, I’m going to die. I’m like an animal, Tom. Can feel it coming on.” A flash of humor took him, his black eyes gleaming faintly. “Heard about a place in Africa once, where the elephants go to die when they feel it coming on. Seems to me there ought to be someplace for a man to go to and take care of it, too.”

  Thomas said nothing. He and the rest of the family recognized that Noah was growing weaker day by day, and there was nothing the doctor could do. Finally he said, “Maybe it’ll rain. Cotton could stand it, and so could I.”

  Noah nodded, and the two men sat there very quietly. It was strange that the two of them had grown closer since Noah’s illness. They had never been particularly close, for Thomas was not given to making Gracefield the greatest plantation in Virginia—which had been Noah’s lifelong goal. Although Noah had never said so, he was deeply disappointed in the fact that none of his sons cared for farming. For a time Noah had hoped that Marianne would marry a man who could take over the empire he had built, but, like the others, Claude Bristol was more interested in fast horses and hunting than in raising cotton.

  Noah thought of Amy’s husband, Brad Franklin, who was as dedicated to the world of cotton as he himself had been. But Brad had his own plantation and could not leave it to come to Gracefield. Another spasm of coughing rose in his chest, but he quickly raised the glass and gulped the rest of the lemonade. He leaned his head back on the chair and mused quietly, “You know, Thomas, all this heat and dust we’ve had this summer, it reminds me of the election.”

  “You mean for president?” Thomas was quick of mind and caught his father’s meaning at once. “Lots of heat and dust in the campaigns, you mean, Father? That’s right. Who will win, do you think?”

  “It won’t be Van Buren,” Noah said bitterly. “The country started going bankrupt the year he took office. The Whigs will win, and William Henry Harrison will be the president of the United States.”

  “He’s a Virginian,” Thomas noted with satisfaction. “He’ll help us when he’s elected. Lord knows we need it! I guess he’s tough enough. An Indian fighter, isn’t he?”

  Noah suddenly smiled. “Don’t pay any attention to the newspapers. They’re saying that Harrison was born in a log cabin and loves cider. Trying to make him into a man the common people will love, like Andy Jackson. But Harrison’s no bumpkin, Thomas. He’s from a prosperous Virginia family, went to college and studied law. He’ll win, and as you say, the South will have something to say about the way this country is going.”

  They spoke for a short time of politics; then Noah asked, “What’s the latest report on the courtship?”

  “Oh, I don’t know, Father.” Thomas shook his head with disgust. “It’s gone too far, and if Melanie doesn’t make up her mind soon, I think her father will lock her up for a year.”

  Clay and Gideon’s rivalry had grown as heated as the climate and the political campaign. It had become, in fact, a form of joke around Richmond. A cartoon had circulated showing Melanie dressed in a hoopskirt juggling the two young men in the air. Neither James Benton nor Noah had thought it funny. The two men admired one another and wanted to see their families tied together—but both were heartily tired of the whole affair.

  “I thought the Benton girl had more sense, Thomas,” Noah said.

  “Well, she’s young, Father.” Thomas shrugged. “Any young girl would be excited to have two attractive men after her. Can’t blame her too much, I suppose.”

  “You’d like for Clay to win, wouldn’t you?”

  “Yes, I would. If she marries Gideon, Melanie will have to leave home and follow him to his stations. It’s a hard life for a woman. Some of those forts out west are terrible places, I’m told. But if she marries Clay, it’ll be a tie between Gracefield and Briarcliff. The Bentons don’t have a son, so Clay would be master of the Benton empire sooner or later. That would give us more land and slaves than any other plantation in the South, I think.”

  “Not a very romantic approach to marriage,” Noah said.

  “I suppose not.” Thomas shrugged, then said, “Stephen was always supposed to be the practical son, wasn’t he? And here I am, the ‘romantic’ son, trying to gain more land by marrying my son into a wealthy family!”

  Noah said carefully, “I’ve sometimes felt that you had hard feelings toward Stephen. Maybe I gave you some cause. I never wanted to show favoritism, but perhaps I did.”

  “We’re not as much alike, you and I, as you and Stephen are,” Thomas said slowly. “But I have no complaint, Father. Now that you mention it, though, I do think Clay feels a little antagonism toward Gideon. He’s never said much about it, but I know him well. That’s what worries me about this competition for Melanie. Clay’s always tried to outdo Gideon in everything, and I’ve had the uneasy feeling that it’s not altogether love for Melanie that’s made him throw himself into this rivalry.”

  “You think he might want her just because Gideon’s after her?”

  “I hope I’m wrong, but Susanna and I have talked of it.

  Wh
ichever one of them Melanie chooses, it’s going to be hard. All in the family, isn’t it? And the loser will have to look at his cousin as a ‘winner’ as long as they both live.”

  “Too bad!” Noah said, sadness touching his voice. “I wish she’d drop them both. That would answer. But I don’t suppose she will.”

  “No, Gideon’s coming next week. Maybe he’s tired of the game, too. I got that much from Stephen’s last letter. He and Ruth feel much the same as we do about it. So with a little pressure from us, from Stephen, and from the Bentons, maybe it’ll be settled.” He got to his feet, stretched, and shook his head. “Clay hasn’t been worth a dime this summer. Done nothing but chase around with his crowd. He’s got to settle down.”

  Noah said quietly, “I’ve been proud of the way you’ve taken hold of the place lately, Thomas. You’ve done a fine job.”

  The unexpected praise brought a flush of pleasure to Thomas’s face, and Noah wished suddenly that he’d been quicker in the past to praise this unstable son of his. Sadness washed over him as he realized it was too late. I guess all old men come to this, he thought. Wanting to go back and change the past. But it’s always too late.

  “I think I’ll go to bed for a while, son,” he said. “I’m a little tired.”

  Washington had suffered from the blistering July heat no less than Richmond had, and as Stephen brought the buggy to a stop at the hitching rack outside of the Orange and Alexandria Railroad Station, sweat poured down his face. “Gid, if it’s hotter in Richmond than it is here in Washington,” he grunted, “you’ll melt like butter in the sun.”

  Gideon stepped down, handed his mother to the ground, then answered soberly, “I’m not worried about the weather.”

  Ruth took his arm, holding on to him as if she planned to keep him from getting on the train. Ever since he had come in from West Point, stopping for an overnight visit on his way to Richmond, she had tried to get him to change his mind. Even now with the sound of the steam engine chuffing down the track, she pleaded, “Son, I wish you’d wait. There’s no hurry about all this. Wait until fall, until you have more time to think about it.”

  Gideon looked down at her, smiling faintly. “You think if I stay away, Mellie will pick Clay, don’t you, Mother?” Then he frowned, his square face growing sober. “That’s what I’m afraid of. Clay’s there all the time, and he’s quite a romantic fellow. I’m just a plain soldier, and I’ll be asking Mellie to leave her whole way of life.”

  “That’s what your father and I are afraid of, son,” Ruth broke in, nodding. “Southern women don’t transplant easily. And the woman you marry will have to follow you all over the country.”

  Stephen listened as Ruth continued to plead, but said nothing. He had talked with his son alone and knew there was no hope of changing the boy’s mind. He was, moreover, less resistant to the match than was his wife. He liked Melanie very much, feeling that under her facade of light foolishness lay a strong woman who would make an excellent wife for Gideon.

  An earsplitting shriek rose from the engine, and Gid quickly kissed his mother. “Good-bye, Mother,” he said, then took the hard hand his father offered. “Thanks for the extra cash, Father.” He grinned at Stephen. “I promise not to spend it on anything useful.”

  “Come back as soon as you can, Gid,” Stephen said.

  Gid turned and, plucking his carpetbag from the back of the buggy, dashed toward the train, which was already in motion. He caught the steel handhold with his free hand, hauled himself aboard, then turned and waved as the train picked up speed. When his parents were out of sight, he moved into the car and found a seat. All the car windows were open, and though it was hot, the wind on his face was welcome. The cinders that floated in and stung his cheeks were not, but they were a necessary evil of travel on the Orange and Alexandria Railroad. The car swayed from side to side on sleepers that gave slightly, for much of the line was new.

  Gid leaned back, relieved to have his visit with his parents behind him. He had felt constrained to go and, in a brief conversation with his father, had laid bare his intention. “I’m going to get this thing settled, one way or another,” he had said after his mother had gone to bed. “Mellie’s got to make up her mind. I can’t go on in limbo, and I don’t guess Clay can either. So after this visit, either you’ll have a prospective daughter-in-law, or Uncle Thomas will!”

  As the train moved on, Gideon watched the Potomac roll beside the tracks. He went over his decision again. He had been, he knew, almost useless at the Point—his mind was on Melanie, not his work. And he was honest enough to admit that he had little hope of success with her. As the train made a quick stop at Alexandria, then turned west, he reviewed his chances, finding them not very good.

  She’d be better off with Clay, he thought painfully. I’ll only be able to offer her a bare room in some outpost in Nebraska or some other wild place. If she marries Clay, she’ll have Briarcliff.

  The train chugged along, crossing Bull Run Creek, then Manassas Station. As it roared over the bridge that spanned the Rappahannock River, Gid put his head on his chest and fell asleep. He awoke occasionally, but by the time the train pulled into Richmond, he had a painful neck and was bleary-eyed.

  He made his way to a livery stable, rented a horse, and soon was on his way out of Richmond. Glad to be off the train, he kept the spirited bay at a fast trot, pulling him up now and then for a drink at one of the creeks that crossed the road. He passed the road that led to Briarcliff, then pulled the bay to a halt. It was growing late, and he was tempted to gallop right to the Benton place and put his cause to Melanie at once. But there was a solid patience in Gideon Rocklin, which some mistook for dullness. That was one of the characteristics that made him a good soldier. One of his instructors, Layton Fields, had argued this with another on the staff who thought Gideon was a plodder.

  “Yes, he does plod,” Fields had agreed. “But only until he is certain of his ground. When he knows the enemy and has assessed his own potential, he’ll show enough dash. It’s those fools who rush blindly toward the sound of the guns who scare me. Usually they manage to get themselves and their men promptly slaughtered!”

  So it was typical of Gid that he would pause and consider every facet of the matter before he made a decision. Clay, he thought with a wry grin, would not have hesitated for a single instant. He would have spurred the bay, arrived at Briarcliff with a spent horse, and flung himself toward Melanie without hesitation.

  “Maybe I am a plodder,” Gid spoke aloud as he patted the neck of his mount. Then he shook his heavy shoulders, spoke to the horse, and galloped down the dusty road. The whippoorwills were calling faintly from the woods as he reached the entrance to Gracefield, and when he dismounted, Highboy, the oldest son of Box and Carrie, came out of the stable.

  “Marse Gideon,” he said, his white teeth flashing. “I thought you was off soljerin’ somewhere.” Catching the reins that Gideon tossed to him, he asked slyly, “You come courtin’ Miss Melanie?”

  Gideon laughed suddenly. “Yes, Highboy, I have indeed.” He well knew that the activities of the Rocklin family were the chief topics of conversation for the slaves and thought wryly that there were no secrets in the world of Gracefield. “How’s Mr. Noah?”

  “Real poorly, Marse Gideon,” Highboy said sadly. “De doctuh wuz here dis mawnin’. I heard my maw tell Miss Charlotte dat she better git some medicines from Granny Sarrie.”

  “Grain this horse, Highboy,” Gideon said absently, then walked toward the Big House. Granny Sarrie was a black woman of indeterminate age who trafficked with herbs and voodoo in equal proportions. Charlotte sometimes used the herbs but scorned the rest of Sarrie’s potions.

  He was met at the door by his aunt Susanna and asked at once, “How is he, Aunt Sue?”

  Susanna shook her head, saying, “Not well at all, Gideon. Come in.” He followed her into the kitchen, where he was greeted by Carrie and given a glass of tea. “Most everyone’s gone to Richmond, Gideon,” Susan
na said as he sipped it. “The Governor’s Ball is tonight, you know.”

  “Forgot about it,” Gid said. He looked at her carefully, then asked, “Can I see him?”

  Susanna answered, “He was asleep a little while ago, but he wakes up often. Come along and we’ll see.”

  He followed her to the bedroom on the first floor, and when they entered, they found Charlotte sitting beside the sick man. But Noah was awake and said at once, “Come in, Gid. And you two women can fix us a drink. A mint julep for me.”

  “I’ll fix it,” Charlotte said, and the two women left the room. Gid looked after them in surprise, for he knew that the doctor had forbidden liquor for his grandfather. Not a good sign, he thought, taking the chair beside the bed. Almost as if they’ve given up.

  But he said only, “How do you feel?”

  “Pretty bad, pretty bad,” Noah said, then smiled faintly. “How come you’re not at the ball?”

  “Forgot about it.”

  “Well, you won’t win any points that way,” Noah said. He shifted in the bed, his thin hands pulling at his nightshirt. “How’s Stephen and your mother?” He listened as Gid gave the news, then nodded. He examined Gid carefully. “You’ve got a look in your eye, Gid. What’s on your mind?”

  “Well, I’ve got to settle this business with Melanie,” Gid said bluntly. He told his grandfather how he’d been practically useless, then added, “It’s got to be one way or the other.” A streak of curiosity touched him, and he asked, “Which way are you betting, Grandfather?”

  Noah grinned faintly. “Not sayin’, boy,” he stated. “But I will say that if that girl takes you, she’ll get a winner.” He laughed silently, adding, “I must be going fast. Got to saying nice things to everybody. Never was broke out with that, was I?”

  “I remember when I broke the leg of that promising colt,” Gid said. “You told me I’d wind up picking cotton for a living.” He saw the memory bring a smile to Noah’s lips, then added, “But when I went to the Point, what you said when I came to say good-bye has been a real help to me. You said, ‘Boy, you’re a fool, but all young men are fools. When you get that out of you, the man that’s left is going to do the Rocklins proud.’” Gideon suddenly reached out and took the frail hand in his thick one. It felt as fragile as the bones of a bird, but he said, “That meant a lot to me, Grandfather. More than you know. Sometimes when I was ready to quit, I’d think of that—and it kept me going.”