by Ginny Dye
“Which is exactly why I’m doing things the way I told you,” Anthony answered. “If a driver is working hard, they will make a lot more money than they can make now. If they’re not working hard, and they don’t take as many passengers, they won’t make as much. Regardless, I will make what I need to make from every carriage.”
“That’s smart,” the man admitted. “It could work.”
“But,” Anthony added, “I’ll expect certain things from my drivers.”
“Like what?”
“They have to treat the horses well. If I learn anyone has mistreated a horse, they will be fired immediately.”
“Seems right,” the man drawled. “The horse be the one doing all the work.”
Anthony was pleased the driver was in agreement. A thought took form in his mind as he continued to talk. “I also want them to treat their passengers well. It’s not enough to just take them where they’re going. I want the drivers to be friendly, and I want them to tell their passengers things about Richmond.” He paused. “When someone needs a carriage, I want them to look for ours first because they’ve heard good things about my company.”
The driver nodded again, but had to focus on a traffic snarl on Broad Street.
Anthony sat back, pleased with what he had learned. He would talk with Thomas more about it that evening. He was sure Thomas could direct him to the best stables, and the best places to buy carriages. He could handle purchasing the horses on his own. He already knew the first places he would visit. Cromwell horses were far too fine to pull carriages, but he’d made connections with horse traders who dealt with lower quality stock that would meet his needs perfectly.
Ten minutes later, when traffic was moving smoothly again, the driver turned back to him. “What’s the address on Church Hill?”
Anthony provided it, and then added, “By the way, what is your name?”
“Norris. Norris Bass.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Norris. My name is Anthony Wallington.”
“Pleased to meet you, Mr. Anthony,” Norris replied. “I’m thinking about that address. Do you be going to Mr. Thomas Cromwell’s house?”
“That’s right,” Anthony responded. “He’s a good friend, and I live there with him and his wife when I’m in town on business.”
Norris nodded his approval. “They be real good people,” he said. “There be lots of my friends that work for that factory.” He paused. “If you be friends with Mr. Cromwell, now I know why you be willing to pay so well. You know how to treat people right.”
“I hope so,” Anthony answered. “Besides the fact that it’s the right thing to do, I believe it’s smart business. I’ll make more money if my employees work hard and are happy.”
“Yep, I sure ‘nuff figure that’s true,” Norris said. “You asked me a while back if I might know of some folks who would like to work for you. I figure I can get you all you need, but…”
Anthony waited for him to finish.
“…but I have one condition.”
Anthony hid his grin. “And what is that condition?”
“I want to be the first person you hire.”
“I could do that,” Anthony answered. “With one condition.”
Norris pulled up behind a wagon stopped in the middle of the road, and then turned to face him. “What that be?”
“You’ve got to hire and train all my drivers. I’ll pay you well to do so.” He named a figure.
Norris gasped and stared at him with disbelieving eyes. “That much?”
“You having a job will depend on the success of the company,” Anthony replied. “I believe you would find me the right men, and that you would train them well.” He had learned to trust his instincts. His instincts told him he was right about Norris Bass.
“You can count on that,” Norris said. “I know the men who wants to work hard, and they know I won’t put up with nonsense.”
“Then your wage is fair,” Anthony said, glad he had all the money coming in from the sale of the Cromwell horses. This was the perfect way to invest it – much better than more real estate. “I’d like to meet with you in two weeks, if possible.” He would be back from the plantation, and all the funds would be available. “I’ll be ready to start putting everything together then. You talk to your friends while I’m gone. I’ll start with twenty drivers, and we’ll go from there.”
Norris nodded. “What kind of hours you want them to work?”
“We’ll have two shifts,” Anthony answered. “One will go from six in the morning until two o’clock in the afternoon. The second shift will go from two o’clock until ten o’clock in the evening. No one will have a terribly long day, but passengers will have more options.”
Norris eyed him. “And what if some of the drivers want to work both shifts, so they can make more money?”
Anthony frowned. “That’s a very long day.”
Norris smiled. “We all used to be slaves, Mr. Anthony. We know what long days are. Sittin’ in a wagon ain’t that hard when you’re used to working in fields. It ain’t been so long since we could actually make money. We gots a lot of catching up to do.”
Anthony stared at him. “I suppose you’re right,” he said thoughtfully. He realized they had just turned onto the street where Thomas’ house was. “I’ll consider it. We’ll talk about it in two weeks.”
“Good enough,” Norris said cheerfully. “Just one other thing, Mr. Anthony.”
“What would that be, Norris?”
“Be careful while you’re here in Richmond.”
Anthony cocked his head, wondering at the sudden discomfort in Norris’ eyes. “Why?”
Norris looked even more uncomfortable. “I been hearing things,” he answered evasively.
“What things?” Anthony asked. “There’s no use in warning me if you’re not going to tell me what you’re warning me about.” Norris pulled the carriage to a stop, but Anthony didn’t get out.
Norris sighed. “We don’t rightly know yet,” he admitted. “I’m part of the militia from the Black Quarter. We be expecting trouble, but we don’t know where it gonna come from.”
“What makes you think I should be careful?” Anthony probed. “Richmond is a very large city, with a large number of people. Why me?”
Norris shifted in his seat and glanced toward the house. “You promise you won’t say nothing to Mr. Cromwell?”
Anthony hesitated, not sure it was wise to make a promise like that, but he needed to know what was going on. “I promise,” he said reluctantly.
“Me and the boys are watching the factory every night,” Norris revealed. “We been hearing things that make us think there gonna be trouble.” He raised a hand. “I don’t know nothing more than that, but I would keep Mr. Cromwell away from the factory at night. We figure if something gonna happen, it’s gonna happen then.”
“But if I warn Thomas, he could put more of a guard around the factory,” Anthony protested, already regretting his promise.
Norris shook his head firmly. “That’s not a good idea,” he insisted. “We suspect the trouble is from inside the factory. If Thomas posts a guard, he ain’t ever gonna know the truth. At least not before it might be too late.”
Anthony took a deep breath.
“Mr. Anthony, we gonna watch things real good. Most of the men in the militia work for Mr. Cromwell. None of us wants something to happen to the factory.”
“All right,” Anthony reluctantly agreed. “Thomas and I are leaving tomorrow for the plantation, anyway.”
“You are?” Norris asked. “I reckon that’s good. We’ll keep an eye on things.”
“Have you talked with the new manager about this?” Anthony pressed. “Pierre should know.”
“He knows all he needs to know,” Norris said evasively. “I gots to get going, Mr. Anthony. I’ll see you in two weeks.”
Anthony nodded. “Come here to the house two weeks from today.”
Norris jumped down, pulled Anthony�
�s bag out to deposit it on the walkway, and then leapt back up. Moments later, he was rolling down the road.
Anthony watched him for several long moments before he turned and went into the house.
*****
Moses walked up the porch stairs, still finding it difficult to believe he was home on the plantation for good. He had been thrilled to discover Franklin, Chooli, and Ajei were staying. He had just finished riding through the fields with Franklin, discussing more expansion. Now he was starving.
“The tobacco looks real good, Daddy.”
Moses gazed down at his almost six-year-old son, his heart about to burst with pride. John had ridden through the fields with his father, never once complaining. Indeed, he had seemed to enjoy every moment. “It does, John. Everybody has been working hard.”
John looked toward the barn. “I know you want me to come eat dinner now, but I’m going to go check on Patches after that. I want to make sure he’s all right.”
“Amber will take good care of him,” Moses replied.
“I know, Daddy, but Patches is my pony. He’s mine to take care of.”
“You’re right,” Moses said solemnly. “You can go out as soon as we’re done eating.”
John turned to him with an earnest expression. “Daddy?”
“Yes? What is it, son?”
“Are we really staying, Daddy? We’re staying here on the plantation?”
Moses stopped and sat down on the front step, pulling John down to join him. “We are, son. How do you feel about that?” He realized, much to his chagrin, that he and Rose had been so focused on how Felicia felt, that they had neglected to ask John. They’d assumed he would be eager to come home, but it wasn’t fair that he hadn’t been asked. He had been only four years old when Robert was murdered during the attack on the plantation, but he wasn’t too young to remember it.
“Oh, I’m real glad, Daddy. This is where I belong.”
Moses gazed at his son’s intense expression, recognizing himself in John’s face and rapidly growing body. “How do you know that?”
“I want to be a farmer like you, Daddy,” John said. “There ain’t any use to live somewhere else.”
“Ain’t is not…”
“You’re right,” John said quickly. “There isn’t any use to live somewhere else.”
Moses hid his smile. His son was the best spoken almost-six-year-old he’d ever known, but he wasn’t surprised since Rose was his mama. She turned everything into a game so their children would enjoy learning, but she was quite serious about the games, and she was adamant that they speak well. “Are you sure you want to be a farmer? There are a lot of things to do out there in the world.”
“I’m sure, Daddy,” John insisted. “I’m old enough to learn more things this year,” he added. “Can I work out in the fields with the men?”
Moses hesitated, not sure how Rose would react. “Why don’t I talk to your mama about that?”
John sighed. “That’s always what you say when you’re getting ready to say no.”
Moses chuckled. “That may be true sometimes,” he admitted, “but not always. Sometimes it means I don’t want to make a real big decision without talking to your mama.”
John cocked his head. “Is my wanting to work with the men a real big decision?”
“It is,” Moses assured him. “If we say yes, it means you’re growing up. I’m not sure I’m ready for that.”
“It happens to everyone,” John said patiently.
Moses choked back a laugh. “I suppose that’s true.”
“Daddy?”
Moses could tell John’s next question was serious by the look in his eyes. He knew Annie had supper ready, but it could wait a few more minutes. Having time to talk with his son was what made riding the fields with him so wonderful. “Yes, son?”
“I think I have a bigger problem.”
Moses raised a brow. “And what is that?”
John sighed. “It won’t be too long before I’m too big for Patches,” he said sadly. “Grandma Annie says I’m growing as fast as you did, Daddy. What am I going to do when I’m too big for Patches?” His expression was distressed. “I don’t ever want to be too big to ride him.”
“I know, John.” Moses truly did understand his son’s dilemma, because he knew just how much John loved his black and white pony. “It’s going to happen though, son.” He didn’t see any reason to beat around the bush. “Can you imagine me riding Patches?”
“No!” John exclaimed. “You would hurt him!” As soon as the words came out of his mouth, his eyes grew even sadder. “How long before I’m too big, Daddy?”
“I don’t know, son, but I think you’ll know. And, I’m quite sure Miles will tell you.”
John’s lip quivered. “But what will I do with him? I could never get rid of him.”
“Of course not,” Moses agreed. “Patches is part of our family.” He thought for a moment, pretending he hadn’t already given this some consideration. “What if you were to give Patches to Hope? You’ve done such a good job with him. Don’t you think he would be perfect for your little sister?”
John stared off into the distance with a serious expression before he turned back. “Hope isn’t ready yet, Daddy.”
“Nope,” Moses agreed easily. “She is only three and a half. But maybe when she’s four. That’s when we got Patches for you,” he reminded his son.
“And you think I’ll be too big for Patches by then?” John asked.
“Unless you figure out a way to quit growing,” Moses said with a chuckle. “I think you’re going to be bigger than I am.”
John stared up at him and shook his head. “That’s going to take a real long time.”
“Not as long as you think,” Moses said, realizing just how true it was. “So, what do you think about giving Patches to Hope?”
“And I’ll get another horse?” John asked, his eyes both sad and excited.
“Of course,” Moses replied.
“Then I’ll give Patches to Hope,” John said decisively. He eyed his Daddy. “On one condition.”
“There’s a condition?” Moses asked with surprise, fighting to control the smile twitching his lips.
John nodded. “Miss Abby has been teaching me how to negotiate.” He said the word slowly, feeling his way through the many syllables.
Moses groaned. “God help me.” He took a breath, slightly alarmed at how fast his little boy was growing up, but the alarm was mixed with pride. “What is your condition?”
“I want to pick out my next horse on my own.”
“From one of the foals?” Moses asked, expecting the answer to be yes. He was surprised when John shook his head.
“No, I don’t want to be a horse trainer, Daddy. I just want to be a farmer.” He paused. “I would like to go with you to a sale and pick out my horse. I want him to be big enough so that I’ll never have to give up another one.”
Moses hesitated. “That’s going to be a very big horse, son. I’m not sure you’ll be able to handle something that size right now.”
“That’s not true,” John said earnestly. “Carrie told me I’m not that much smaller than she was when Mr. Thomas got Granite for her.”
“But she was quite a bit older,” Moses protested, still resisting the idea of his young son on top of a horse the size of Granite.
“Age shouldn’t matter, Daddy,” John argued. “I’ll go to the sale with you. We’ll make sure I can ride the horse before we buy it.”
Moses threw his head back with a laugh. “You talked this through with Miss Abby already, didn’t you, John?”
John grinned. “I might have,” he admitted.
Moses laughed again. “You should have told me that from the start. If I’d known you and Abby cooked this up, I would have just said yes from the beginning. I would have known I was going to eventually give in.”
John smiled, but nodded solemnly. “I’ll remember that in the future.”
“Are yo
u sure you’re only five?” Moses asked.
“I’m almost six, Daddy,” John answered. “Miss Abby is going to teach me more about negotiating.”
Moses groaned again before he stood and walked to the house. “Now I really need some food.”
*****
Carl heaved the heavy can of trash onto his shoulders and opened the back door to the alley behind the restaurant. It had been a long, hard day, but the restaurant had been busy from the time they opened the door. The success of Opal’s Kitchen was even more than they had dreamed, but he still struggled with restlessness. He thought of going West on a daily basis.
“Carl!”
Carl looked up, his eyes picking out his best friend, Leo, walking toward him down the alley. He immediately tensed. “What is it?” he asked. He lowered the can onto the ground and looked around to make sure they were alone.
“There ain’t be nobody else out here,” Leo assured him. “I been waitin’ out here for you.”
“Why?”
Leo took a deep breath. “I only been waitin’ a few minutes. I figured I oughta talk to you first.”
Carl gritted his teeth, fighting for patience. “Tell me what it is, Leo.”
Leo nodded, barely visible in the dark. “I heard some white men talking down on the wharf.”
“About what?”
“It was hard to hear what they said ‘cause boats kept blowing their whistles, but I could tell they were angry, and I heard them say Cromwell Factory a few times.”
Carl stiffened. “When was this?”
“About an hour ago,” Leo answered. “I had to finish up my work before I could get here.” Suddenly, he frowned. “I almost forgot. I heard them say the name Thomas a couple times. That mean anything to you?”
Carl dashed to the door of the restaurant, flung it open, and ran inside. “Opal, where is Daddy?”
Opal looked up calmly, steam from the stove making her skin shine. She was busy starting a huge pot of collard greens that would simmer all night. “He left a little while ago, Carl.” Her eyes sharpened. “Why? What’s wrong?”