by Ginny Dye
Matthew nodded heavily. “I’m afraid that’s true. Many have decided they have no hope for the future. They are leaving.”
Thomas nodded. “Many of the men I knew through the government have left Virginia and abandoned their homes.”
“To do what?” Carrie asked, realizing this was the first time her father had been willing to talk about this.
Thomas shrugged. “Some have gone to the North to start over. Others have left for Europe. Many of them are attempting to reestablish themselves as planters in Mexico or Brazil.”
“South America!?” Carrie asked.
“They’re trying to find a place where they can continue to live the life they have always lived,” Thomas explained.
“And why not you?” Matthew asked.
“I had too much to come back for,” Thomas said simply as his gaze settled on Carrie and then shifted to take in Jeremy, Rose, and Moses. “But that doesn’t mean I wasn’t scared. I realized I may lose my plantation like so many others have, but Moses showed me another way.”
“Are you paying the men?” Matthew asked.
“Of course,” Thomas said. He glanced at Carrie. “I still had some resources after the war — some gold bullion I had hidden away. I have converted it into US currency to pay the men and buy seed.”
“The men have agreed to a monthly wage,” Moses said, “knowing they will receive a fair percentage of the crop profits after harvest. They all know they will make much more that way than if they were just to settle for wages.”
“And you’ll pay them a percentage of the true value of the crop?” Matthew pressed.
“Of course,” Thomas said sharply. “Do you doubt my integrity?”
“Not a bit,” Matthew said immediately. “But that is where the problem is.”
Thomas shook his head. “I’m afraid I don’t understand.”
“I saw the fields today,” Matthew said. “The crops are in and looking good. Do you anticipate a profitable crop this year?”
“It will be an extremely profitable crop,” Moses said confidently.
“And the men will be paid well? And they are also receiving housing? With the freedom to grow gardens and raise livestock for food?”
“Of course,” Thomas said impatiently.
“What do you think will happen when other freed slaves without those benefits learn what is happening on Cromwell?” Matthew asked next, his gaze locked on Thomas.
Thomas frowned, his eyes saying he had made the connection. “I see…” he murmured.
Moses frowned with him. “You’re saying other freed slaves will leave wherever they are working to come here because they will get a better deal?”
“Wouldn’t you?” Matthew demanded.
Moses slowly nodded. “I suppose so.”
“And if you were the plantation owner who was watching your labor disappear, knowing you wouldn’t have a crop this year because of it, who would you be angry at?”
Thomas nodded. “I get it,” he said simply. “My doing the right thing is making it more difficult for them to do the wrong thing. As long as I’m treating my workers fairly, they will be forced to match what I’m doing, and they don’t want to.”
“That would be putting it mildly,” Matthew replied. “Plantation owners are developing labor contracts that are nothing more than a substitute for slavery. Their excuse is that the black man is basically lazy and incapable of self-care.”
Moses snorted.
“It’s an old belief that has no part in this new country,” Thomas said wearily. “I have had this conversation with planter after planter. None of them wants to change their thoughts on it.”
“They’re terrified of losing whatever they still have after the destruction of the war,” Abby said quietly. “Most of them are financially destitute.”
“It’s poor business,” Thomas said firmly. “Even if they choose to harbor their old beliefs, it’s good sense to make restoring the plantations a beneficial thing for everyone involved. They need workers. The freed slaves need income and a way to create their own autonomy. It can work for everyone.”
“I wish more shared your feelings,” Matthew said, “but the labor contracts prove they don’t.”
“What labor contracts?” Moses asked.
Matthew scowled. “They’re terrible,” he stated flatly. “Planters are using labor contracts to reestablish their authority over every aspect of their workers’ lives. They prescribe gang labor from sunup to sundown, as well as complete subservience to the planter’s will.” He took a deep breath. “Many of them prohibit the workers from leaving the plantation or having visitors. When I was coming through Kentucky, I read a newspaper that said the former slaves must be taught that they are free, but free only to labor.”
“That’s preposterous!” Carrie cried.
“Surely they are finding that difficult to enforce,” Abby added in protest, her gray eyes flashing with anger.
“Yes,” Matthew agreed. “Many slaves are just leaving the plantations, but they are not finding better situations because the planters seem to have come to one mind on this.”
“Which makes me even more of a threat,” Thomas observed.
“Yes,” Matthew said heavily.
“You’re concerned about Moses being out here without me,” Thomas observed quietly.
Matthew hesitated and shrugged. “I could be completely wrong,” he replied.
“Or completely right,” Thomas said wearily as he gazed at Moses.
“We’re going to be fine,” Moses said firmly, his face hardening into lines of determination. “It’s really not that difficult. The freed slaves simply want freedom to live their lives. If the planters were to quit insisting things remain the same and instead treated their workers with respect and appreciation, the South could be rebuilt.”
“And I wish every single one of them would listen to you,” Abby said fervently. “Unfortunately, fear overrules one’s ability to listen to reason, especially if there is no desire to change.”
“What is President Johnson doing about this?” Thomas asked suddenly. “I haven’t heard a lot, but his initial moves indicated he wants to assure the freed slaves their rights. Surely he is going to use the military governments to control the situation.”
Matthew frowned again. “I’m afraid our President Johnson has revealed his true self in the last few weeks,” he said angrily.
Abby sighed. “Then your suspicions were correct.”
“Unfortunately, yes.” Everyone waited quietly for him to continue. “In the weeks following the assassination, Johnson said enough of the right things to indicate he believed in black suffrage and their right to political equality.”
“But he doesn’t?” Rose asked.
“President Johnson is a rather unique man,” Matthew replied. “The Radical Republicans in Congress believe military governments should run the Southern states until reconstruction is complete — including true freedom for the former slaves.” He paused. “President Johnson believes that individual traitors should be punished severely, but since the Constitution does not allow a state to leave the Union, legally none of the Confederate states actually seceded. Therefore, they did not give up their right to govern their own affairs. Each state should decide what to do about what he calls the black problem.”
Shocked silence met his statement.
Abby was the first to find her voice. “To say they had no right to secede, therefore they could not, is like saying that because a person doesn’t have a right to commit murder, they cannot.” Her voice rose indignantly. “People do commit murder. And the South did secede and raise four years of war against the North. That was certainly a situation the writers of the Constitution did not foresee.”
Matthew spread his hands. “You already know I agree. I’m just the bearer of bad news.”
“You’re right,” Aunt Abby said quickly. “Please go on. It’s best if we know the truth.”
“President Johnson is a ve
ry prejudiced man. He believes it is up to white men to govern and manage the South now. He has already called for a convention in North Carolina for them to choose their own government.”
“So the same men who got North Carolina into the war will be the ones to attempt to rebuild it?” Carrie asked. “How can that be right? How can that rebuild a society fair to everyone?”
“President Johnson has taken steps to make it clear he has his own ideas of Reconstruction. While the Republicans in Congress have demanded any state’s recognition of reunion has to include the blacks right to vote, Johnson has already extended recognition to Arkansas, Louisiana, Tennessee, and Virginia.”
“Here?” Thomas asked, startled. “I didn’t know.”
“It’s been very recent,” Matthew explained. “Johnson is making it clear he has his own view of Reconstruction. He is moving as quickly as possible.”
“What about Congress?” Carrie demanded. “Why aren’t they stopping him?”
“The full Congress is not back in session until December,” Matthew replied heavily.
“So he just gets to run rampant until then?” Rose demanded. “How is that right?”
“It’s totally wrong,” Matthew replied. “It’s also totally legal.” He held up a hand before anyone said more. “I have many friends who are Radical Republicans. I went through Washington, DC and spoke with them. They are already making plans to block Johnson once they are back in session, but…” he sighed, “they agree he can do a lot of harm before then.”
“And once things are put in place, it will be more difficult to change it,” Abby said sadly.
“So we do what we can,” Thomas said firmly. “The last five years have taught me that politics become a black hole of unreasoning passion that pulls people into chaos. The war is over, but that doesn’t mean the passions that sparked it have been put out. I rather suspect it has flamed them even higher.”
“That’s encouraging,” Carrie muttered.
“It can be,” Thomas responded. “Politicians are always going to create havoc, but that doesn’t mean we cannot continue to create change simply by doing the right thing. Every right step we take will create a ripple of change that will touch other situations and other people. Our running Cromwell with integrity will make some people angry. It will make other people choose to follow our example because the results will speak for themselves.” He took a deep breath and continued in a calm voice. “Some people will resent our factory…”
“Others will view it as an example to emulate because they will see the results of the profits,” Abby said. Her eyes glowed with pride. “I do believe I love you even more than I did a few minutes ago, Thomas Cromwell.”
Thomas reached for Abby’s hand and met Matthew’s gaze. “I appreciate the warning, but we will simply continue to do the right thing. I’ll trust God with the rest.”
Matthew nodded, a broad smile on his face. “I was hoping that would be how you would react.”
Thomas settled back and reached for his glass of lemonade. “So what’s next for you, Matthew?”
Matthew shrugged. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “I know I’m tired of running all over the country covering one disaster after another. That’s the reason I resigned from the Philadelphia Tribune. It’s been my life for so long that I feel rather like a fish out of water, but each day I find I like it more and more. I can’t continue like this forever, but I’ve got time to decide what my next steps will be. I’m just choosing to believe I’ll recognize them when I see them.”
“I’m certain you will,” Abby said warmly. “I’m sure whatever it is will be a wonderful adventure.”
******
Janie had no need to hide to overhear the conversation taking place in Clifford’s study; the heat had forced him to leave the study windows open. The voices of the men congregated in his office flowed out to where she was cutting flowers. She knew Clifford had been furious when he arrived home, but she had escaped his wrath because he had not arrived alone. He merely nodded at her curtly and disappeared into his study. The man with him — someone she had not seen before — had the grace to look embarrassed as he nodded at her courteously. Janie merely smiled, relieved she didn’t have to talk to Clifford.
If possible, he was becoming even more volatile. It was as if it took every bit of his self-control to act the successful businessman during the day, such that when he came home he vented all his frustration and anger on Janie. There were times she wanted to ask him what good he thought it would do, or what purpose it served to make her feel less than human, but she was wise enough to remain silent. And, in fact, she felt no need to confront him. She had simply stopped listening.
Janie smiled softly to herself as she deadheaded flowers and cut enough hollyhocks to fill the tall vases she had scattered throughout the house. It had taken her time, but she had become quite adept at detaching from Clifford’s anger and vehement words. Oh, she stood there as he spewed out his venom, but most of the time the words could no longer pierce the shield she had placed around her heart and mind.
Not only could she block Clifford out — she had a plan…
“Louisiana has the right idea,” Clifford shouted, his voice assaulting her over the flowers.
Janie pulled her thoughts back, reminded she needed to learn everything she could about her husband’s activities.
“I asked Anthony Simmons here tonight to tell us how Louisiana is handling the freed slaves.”
Janie continued to cut flowers while she listened intently.
“Louisiana knows how to handle the niggers,” Anthony said bluntly. “I was down there recently. They govern by the pistol, the rifle, and the whip. They know that as long as there are black people in that state, they must use force to remind them who is the boss. The niggers squawk about being free, but I don’t see anyone coming in to stop it.”
Janie stiffened in disbelief.
“President Johnson has already recognized Louisiana’s re-entry into the Union. He’s letting things play out the way people in Louisiana want them to play out.”
“What about the Freedmen’s Bureau?” one man asked sharply.
“What about them?’ Anthony scoffed. “They make some noise, but there are far too few to make much of a difference. Oh, they’re passing out food, clothing, and medical help, but they don’t have the ability to stop what is happening. And I don’t think President Johnson is giving them a lot of support. He won’t come right out and say they aren’t needed because it will hurt him politically, but he’s not doing anything about Louisiana justice either.”
“I heard a lot of black people are ending up dead in Louisiana,” Clifford drawled.
“That’s true,” Anthony replied casually. “They figure about a thousand have already been taken care of. Those who aren’t killed are beaten so badly they quit thinking about demanding their rights,” he added sarcastically.
Janie gasped, tears filling her eyes as she imagined the pain and sorrow of people who had been so excited about their promised freedom. Her mind flew to Carrie and the rest. Were they okay? Had Rose and Moses been harmed? What about Miles and May? Were Sam and Opal safe? Eddie? Not knowing was about to drive her crazy. She bit her lip to hold back her groan, and then she tightened her lips and forced herself to continue to listen.
“We’ve got to do the same here in North Carolina,” Clifford stated firmly. “If we don’t get things under control now, it’s going to get even worse.”
Janie heard him slap his hand against the table.
“One of those nigger soldiers had the audacity to greet me this morning,” he growled. “I went straight to his commanding officer and told him I would not allow such insolence. I explained to him that in North Carolina, a black was only to speak when he was spoken to first.”
“And how did he respond?” Anthony asked calmly.
“He told me I should get used to things being different,” Clifford snapped.
Janie could feel his anger fil
ling the air with a thick heaviness that weighed on her heart.
“It will do no good to go to the Northern authorities,” Anthony told him. “They are the ones who created this debacle. It is up to us to resolve it. The only way to regain control is to remind the niggers every chance we get that we are the ones in control. Their little dreams of freedom and equality will fade away when they fully realize the price they will be forced to pay.”
“But they are free,” another man protested. “There’s nothing we can do to change that now.”
“You’re right that we can’t change the amendment abolishing slavery,” Anthony agreed, his cold voice freezing Janie’s heart, “but there is no way the government can offer protection to two million freed slaves. We controlled the slaves with fear before — there is no reason we can’t continue to do that. We just need to be a little more subversive in our efforts. Keeping our methods hidden will make them no less effective.”
Janie shuddered as she walked slowly to the house. She’d heard all she needed to hear.
******
Janie smoothed her hair to make sure she looked presentable enough to satisfy Clifford and carried a fresh tray of mint juleps into the office, being sure to keep her eyes down. It was best that her husband not catch even a whiff of the nervous excitement causing her heart to pound.
“Gentlemen,” she said softly when she opened the door. “I thought you could do with a bit more refreshment.”
Talk ceased when she entered the room.
“Thank you, Mrs. Anthony,” one of the men said smoothly.
It took all of Janie’s self-control not to stare him in the face and announce he was a bigoted idiot, but she clamped her lips shut, kept her eyes down, and simply nodded. She backed out of the study slowly and headed straight to her room, closing the door firmly.
Janie stood in the center of the room, taking deep breaths to control her nervousness. Now that the time was here, she wondered if she had the courage to put her plan into action.