She heaved a sigh. That seemed a lifetime ago. So much had happened since then. Mama and Papa were gone. The war came. George’s death, then Luther’s. And now freedom for the slaves. Nothing of her old life remained.
Lately, though, a quiet question stirred strange thoughts in her mind, usually in the dark of night as she lay in bed. A question she had yet to answer. If time could rewind, would she want things to remain as they’d been?
Voices drew her attention. Some of the new workers and former Rose Hill slaves came toward them. When they reached the shade of the tree, Ruth was the only one who smiled timidly in Natalie’s direction before settling down next to a tall man who held a fat baby. Adline and the others simply ignored her and Samuel.
“Welcome, folks. Glad you could join us.” Moses stood near the massive tree trunk as the newcomers sat on the grass. “We don’t got a fo’mal preacher that comes Sundays, but we do all right. The Lawd ain’t particular. He just say come in His name, so that’s what we do.”
He nodded to Harriet. She began singing a soulful song in her rich alto voice. A few of the others joined in, softly at first. Little Isaac tried to keep up with his mother, his high soprano squeaking, with him often mangling the words and the tune, though no one minded.
Natalie closed her eyes, enjoying the peaceful gathering. She didn’t know the hymn, but it didn’t matter. It washed over her like a warm blanket on a cold winter’s night. Comforting. Soothing. The first years of her marriage, she hadn’t joined the slaves in the small chapel behind the quarter. George didn’t approve of the meetings, and for a time, after Jeptha and the others escaped, he’d banned the services altogether. Eventually, however, things fell back into their normal routine, including the worship gatherings. By then, though, she’d learned it was not wise to cross George, and she stayed away from the little chapel. After he died, there was nothing to keep her from attending.
With a glance toward Harriet, she recalled the first time she’d stepped foot in the small building. The singing had started before she’d worked up the nerve to enter. An awkward silence washed over the crowded room as everyone stared at her. Just when she thought she would turn and leave, Harriet stood, baby Isaac in her arms, and walked down the aisle between the crude benches. With every eye on them—and a collective intake of breath, it seemed— they waited to hear what the slave, who’d suffered so much loss because of Natalie’s family, would say to her mistress. But Harriet didn’t utter a word. She simply took Natalie by the arm and led her to the seat next to hers.
In that moment of acceptance—and undeserved forgiveness— Natalie encountered her first glimpse of grace.
When the singing quieted, Moses took in the crowd. “It shore has been a week we ain’t soon to forget.” He smiled broadly. “We is free.” His sweeping gaze included Natalie and Samuel. “All of us.” He paused to wipe a tear from his cheek. “I been thinkin’ on what freedom means. One thing I know it don’t mean is we’s all o’ sudden our own massa.” He shook his head. “No. We still has a Master.”
“I ain’t got no massa.” The man with the branded cheeks stood at the edge of the gathering, arms crossed, and glared at Moses. Natalie had only seen him from a distance and hadn’t realized the scars on his face were letters. A large “R” filled one cheek while a large “N” filled the other. She didn’t need to be told he’d received them after attempting to run away from his owner.
“Well, Jezro, maybe we ain’t got a white massa no more, but ever’body got a Master,” Moses said. “The Lawd be our Master. He done made us, so I ’spect He has the right to tell us what to do and what not to do. Long befo’ I come to know Him by name, He already know mine. Long befo’ I come to love Him, He already love me. Same be true for you.” His gaze swept the group. “Same be true for us all.”
Jezro remained silent, frowning.
Moses picked up a cloth bundle lying on the ground next to him. Carefully, he unwrapped the covering. Natalie was not the only one to gasp when he revealed a black leather-bound book, its edges worn and ragged.
Holding it as though it were a delicate china dish, a soft smile settled on his face. After a moment, he looked up. “This here … is the Holy Bible.”
The group remained wide-eyed, staring first at Moses and then at the book. Natalie, too, could not hide her shock. Slaves were not allowed to own books. Their masters feared if slaves learned to read and write, they might start an uprising and demand their freedom.
She glanced at Harriet. Her eyes shimmered with pride. Even little Isaac watched his papa with wide-eyed interest.
Samuel, who had been leaning against Natalie with drooping eyes, got to his knees so he could see the book better.
“Some o’ you know my massa some years back was a preacher man. He a good man. Loved the Lawd. He talked ’bout givin’ me my freedom papers from time to time. We’s livin’ in Lu’siana back then, and it weren’t a good place for a Negro to be turned loose, so I stays with him.” Moses gazed out to the fields with a thoughtful look, perhaps reliving the past in his mind.
“Just befo’ Rev’rend Adams passed on, he says to me, ‘Moses, I wants you to have my Bible when the Lawd takes me on home.’ He’d taught me my letters, and I could read a few words here and there.” A frown tugged his brow. “After he die, they put me on the block down in New O’leans, fixin’ to sells me. I had this here Bible fastened to my leg with rope, under my trousers.” He glanced briefly at Natalie. “Them traders sometime make the slave take off their clothes, so’s a buyer can see what they gettin’. I’s prayin’ they don’t ask that of me, otherwise they find the Bible.”
Natalie had never heard such candid talk from a slave—former slave—about the markets. Shamefully, she’d never considered what they must’ve gone through before her father or father-in-law or some other buyer purchased them and took them home. She peeked at the others in the group, their rapt attention on Moses. Had each of them experienced the disturbing scenario he’d just described?
“Massa Boyd buys me lickety-split, so I’s not have to worry no more ’bout them findin’ my book. He brings me an’ some others to Texas, plannin’ to put us to work in the cane fields. I’s glad when Massa Langford buys me from Massa Boyd to drive his carriage.” His gaze landed on Harriet. “I’s had me a good life since I come here.”
After a moment, he turned his full attention to Natalie. “Miz Natalie, I want to ’pologize for bein’ dishonest ’bout having this here Bible all these years. I know it was against the rules to have a book, but this one be mighty special to me. I hope you can forgive me for keepin’ it hidden.”
The earnest request caused moisture to spring to her eyes. Here was her former slave, asking for forgiveness for owning a Bible when it was she who had claimed ownership of him. It was her husband who’d sold his sons. Why wasn’t he demanding an apology from her instead of seeking her pardon?
“There is nothing to forgive, Moses,” she finally said, her voice thick with emotion.
An understanding passed between them.
He flipped through its pages. “I cain’t read most o’ these words, but they is two that is my fav’rites.” He smiled broadly. “God … and Jesus. When I come ’cross one o’ them, I tells ya, my heart skip with joy. Don’t matter that I don’t know what the words ’round them say. Only matter that they’s in this book, and they’s in my heart.”
The service ended a short time later. Carolina and several others rushed forward to look at the treasured book. Unless they’d been house servants, most had probably never held one in their hands, though even house servants were forbidden to learn to read.
Making her way back to the manor, Natalie couldn’t help but wonder what would have happened to Moses had George or his father learned the Negro had the book.
She shuddered. The thought was too awful to imagine.
Natalie retreated to the privacy of her sitting room, desperately needing the quiet to sort through the tangle of confused emotions swirling throug
h her mind and heart. She hadn’t been there long when Ebenezer announced the arrival of visitors. Her open window faced north, so she wasn’t able to see who was coming, but the dog’s incessant barking didn’t stop. Alexander Lopez had sent word through one of his vaqueros that he’d hoped to visit her the coming week, so she didn’t expect to see the Tejano today.
Could it be Colonel Maish, arriving to check on his men?
The flutter in her stomach sent her racing to the long mirror in her bedroom. She smoothed her hair, wishing she’d spent more time fashioning it that morning rather than resorting to the simple braid she’d taken to wearing lately. Perhaps she could quickly pin it in a coil. At least she’d chosen one of her better gowns in honor of the Lord’s Day. The sheer fabric was not only cooler than her silks and cottons, but the pale green set off her complexion in a way Mama had always told her would be the envy of other women.
A thread of conscience worked its way into her thoughts, recalling Corporal Banks’ comments about the colonel’s family. She’d wondered many times since that day if he referred to the man’s wife and children, or simply parents and siblings. While freshening her appearance for a visitor was not unusual, she certainly wouldn’t want to attract the attention of another woman’s husband.
Her hands stilled, and she gazed at her reflection. Was that what she hoped to do? Attract the Yankee?
“Miz Natalie!” Carolina called from the foyer, something she would not have done had she still been a slave. “A wagon is comin’. It’s wearin’ one o’ them canvas coverin’s.”
Natalie frowned. A covered wagon? Colonel Maish rode his horse when he came to Rose Hill. Unless he was bringing additional supplies or men, she had to assume the Yankee was not their visitor. Disappointment washed over her as she put the last pin in her hair and exited her room. Carolina and Moses waited at the bottom of the stairs, the latter holding a rifle.
“We shore is gettin’ our fill o’ strangers lately,” Carolina said when Natalie joined them.
They moved to the porch to await the vehicle.
“That look like women drivin’ that rig,” Carolina said, moving her head from side to side as though she could get a better view.
“I believe you’s right,” Moses said. He turned and leaned the gun against the wall inside the open door.
As the wagon stopped in front of the porch amid a cloud of dust, Natalie saw that two women, one black and one white, sat on the high driver’s seat, with the black woman holding the reins. The wide brim of their bonnets hid their faces, and Natalie couldn’t begin to guess who the company might be.
The white woman stood after the brake was set, revealing a rather rotund figure. She removed her bonnet, her graying hair plastered to her head, and met Natalie’s gaze with a glare. “Natalie Langford Ellis, I have a bone to pick with you.”
Although her aging face seemed vaguely familiar, Natalie could not place the woman. “I beg your pardon? And who might you be?”
Annoyance mottled the woman’s plump cheeks. “Well, that’s a fine way to greet your cousin.”
Cousin?
“Mrs. Eunice Porter, wife of the late Judge Porter from Shelby County. For pity’s sake, you stayed in my guest room on your honeymoon trip. And this is the thanks I get? Forgotten, in my greatest time of need.”
Cousin Eunice, her mother’s cousin.
“Forgive me, Cousin Eunice.” Natalie descended the steps while Eunice none too gracefully climbed down the wagon wheel. “I fear my memory isn’t as good as it should be. You’ve caught me quite by surprise.” She embraced the large woman, assaulted by the odor of sweat and dust clinging to Eunice’s clothes.
When they parted, Eunice glanced up at the manor. “So, this is Rose Hill. I’ve certainly heard many tales about it. That husband of yours was mighty proud of it. I heard he was killed early on in the war.” She sent Natalie a sour look. “’Course I had to learn that information from Sally Porter since you didn’t have the decency to write to us and let us know. That woman loves to lord it over me that she knows more about my own family than I do, what with her daughter living right here in Williamson County.”
Her loud voice and scolding words transported Natalie back to the night she and George had stayed with the Porters. Mama had insisted the newlyweds stop in Shelby County and stay with her favorite cousin on their way to New Orleans. The farmhouse was modest, as was the guest room, but it would have been a perfectly pleasant stay if not for Eunice’s nonstop gossip and the judge’s overindulgence from the liquor decanter. When they retired to their room, George had nothing good to say about the entire visit. They’d avoided Shelby County on their return trip.
“What brings you to Rose Hill?” She glanced up to the young Negro woman who remained seated on the driver’s bench. The poor thing looked exhausted with droopy eyes and slouched shoulders. Upon closer examination, Natalie realized she was heavy with child.
“The Yankees,” Eunice spat, her upper lip curled in a snarl. “Those no-account devils burned us out.”
Natalie gasped. “They burned your home?” She could hardly believe such news.
“It’s all them Negroes’ fault.” Eunice looked up at the servant, who stared straight ahead as though she hadn’t heard the accusation. “Ever since Judge Porter passed on two years ago, I’ve barely managed to keep food on the table. Then those Yankees showed up on my doorstep, demanding I set my slaves free. Well, you can be certain I refused. How was I to get along without my slaves?”
Natalie had asked the same question when Colonel Maish and his men arrived at Rose Hill. She couldn’t imagine where she’d be now if the Army hadn’t supplied her with workers.
“They threatened to burn the house if I didn’t comply. I told the lot of ’em to get off my property. ‘Them Negroes are mine,’ I said, ‘bought and paid for. If you want ’em, you can pay me for ’em.’” Her eyes filled with moisture. “That hateful captain said I had ten minutes to get what I wanted out of the house before they torched it. And that’s just what those devils did.” She sniffled loudly.
Natalie didn’t know what to say. She’d heard of homes burned to the ground across the South over the last few years of the war, but the war was over now. It seemed beyond heartless to burn out a widow because she wasn’t immediately in compliance with the proclamation. Surely the soldiers could have set the slaves free and left Eunice’s home standing. What difference did it make who delivered the proclamation Natalie herself had read to her people?
“I’m so sorry.” She wondered what the woman planned to do now.
“And that’s why I could not believe my eyes when we arrived at Langford Manor and saw a sea of Yankees on your land!”
“I had no choice.” Natalie felt like an errant child. “They declared the plantation abandoned. Nothing I said made any difference.”
“Your mama would be sick at heart to see those Bluecoats making themselves at home in the very house where you were born.” Perspiration dotted her upper lip, and she used her stiff bonnet as a fan. “A terribly arrogant colonel directed us to Rose Hill when I demanded to know what he’d done with you.”
Colonel Maish, no doubt.
“Please, come sit on the porch and have some refreshments. It’s much too warm to stand here in the sun. Your servant may join us as well.”
Eunice harrumphed. “Lottie there can take that wagon to the barn and tend the animals, is what she can do.”
The young woman’s tired eyes met Natalie’s. Far be it from Natalie to tell someone how to treat her servants, but Lottie looked as though she could topple from her high perch any moment.
“That won’t be necessary. Moses can see to the wagon and the animals.” She turned to Carolina. “Please bring some cool water for Cousin Eunice. You may take Lottie with you to the kitchen and offer her some as well.”
The three servants followed her instructions while Eunice ascended the steps, out of breath when she reached the top.
“I see you managed to ho
ld on to some of your slaves, what with the Yankees trying to turn ’em all loose every which way.” She shook her head as she practically fell onto a wicker sofa. “It t’aint right, I tell you.” She fanned herself, wafting her pungent scent toward Natalie. “The judge would have something to say to those northern devils were he alive. He paid good money for those slaves, same as your pappy.”
“I was sorry to hear of his passing.” Natalie was already weary from the woman’s grumblings. She knew she should invite Eunice to stay overnight, but she couldn’t help hoping the travelers were simply stopping to rest before continuing to their destination.
Carolina arrived with a glass of water, which Eunice gulped down. After wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, she said, “I’m glad my husband didn’t live to see this day.” The sound she made spoke her disgust. “Yankees swarming Texas, setting all them Negroes free. These are sad times for our state, I tell you.”
“You are of course welcome to stay the night with us.” Natalie hoped her true wishes weren’t detectable in the invitation. “Although I’m sure you are anxious to continue your journey. Where is it you’re going?”
Eunice stared at Natalie as though she’d been out in the sun too long.
“Where am I going? Why, here, of course!” Eunice let out a high-pitched cackle, as though Natalie’s question were beyond silly. “My dear, I have come to live at Rose Hill.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
With the sun barely topping a rosy eastern horizon, Levi and Banks made their way to Rose Hill along rain-rutted roads. A fierce storm had blown through during the night, damaging many of the tents where his men slept and leaving debris scattered throughout the Langford plantation. Although he knew Natalie had ample help with Moses, his men, and the new field workers, Levi felt the need to see for himself that all was well with the widow. Her property was, for the time being, the responsibility of the Union Army.
The Widow of Rose Hill (The Women of Rose Hill Book 2) Page 11