She believed because God was real and true. She believed because he was the Creator of the universe and was the Father of Jesus Christ who told man about him and taught mankind what it means to obey him and be his children.
In truth, there is only one reason to believe, and Cherity was now discovering it anew.
She believed because God was true!
Again the sun of faith, which is a reflection into our lives of the great warmth of the overspreading Fatherhood-Sun of the universe, began to dawn into Cherity’s countenance.
And as Cherity prayed, Sydney talked to others… quietly, confidentially. He divulged nothing specific, only that Greenwood had fallen upon some hard times, and that those who loved them were collecting donations for Richmond and Carolyn Davidson in appreciation for their generosity through the years. And, he always added emphatically, no one must utter a peep about it.
Most of the transient blacks hadn’t a penny to their name any more than had Sydney and Chigua upon their arrival. But those who had been with the Davidsons for years and who had benefited from their generosity were all, to a man and woman, ready to turn over every scrap they possessed, all of which had come from the Davidsons in the first place.
Most enthusiastic was Nancy Shaw. Though she had only twenty-nine dollars of her own saved beneath the mattress of her bed, she immediately embarked upon a one-woman mission to all the blacks who were left on the various plantations surrounding Dove’s Landing, quietly spreading the word that even half a dollar here, half a dollar there would be greatly appreciated by the man and woman who had sacrificed so much for the blacks of the community by keeping their little church congregation alive.
Meanwhile, Cherity wrote back to Mr. Glennie.
INTERESTED IN SALE. WILL AGREE TO $8,750 PLUS $100 FOR FURNISHINGS. PLEASE NOTIFY RESPONSE SOONEST POSSIBLE.
CHERITY WATERS.
It didn’t take like long, with Nancy Shaw curiously devising more errands into town and to several of the neighboring plantations than she had been on in five years, to create a stir and hubbub in the black community among those who wanted to help. All around Greenwood for several miles in every direction, unknown to either Richmond or Carolyn Davidson or any of the white community, pennies and nickels and dimes, even with here and there a silver dollar, began to be shaken and broken out of jars and dislodged from hiding places in beds and under boards and from a multitude of secret stashes that dozens of the region’s blacks had been hoarding away like squirrels their acorns in hopes of someday buying their freedom and starting a new life. Nancy told them all that they would be notified when the day was at hand.
Meanwhile, during a brief conversation with Quaker Brannon after a transfer of runaways, Sydney chanced to mention the Davidsons’ need and their attempt to raise what money they could. Brannon listened seriously, then nodded and said that, if they would allow them, he and his wife would like to help. He thought they could likely raise two hundred dollars, and said he would talk to his cousin Mueller in Hanover, Pennsylvania and see that the word spread there too among what blacks they were able to contact who owed their freedom, in some measure, to a railroad layover at Greenwood. Overjoyed as he rode back to Greenwood, for the first time Sydney began to think that their wild scheme just might succeed after all.
Now came the hardest part of all… the wait.
Cherity heard back, in a more detailed letter from Mr. Glennie, that the party interested in her house had agreed to her terms.
Forty-Seven
Seth and Veronica returned to Boston where McClarin excitedly opened the envelope Veronica had received, with Seth photographically recording the event.
Again the editor looked over papers she was to deliver to Cecil Hirsch and shook his head with amazement.
“I can hardly believe they have been able to pass this level of information back and forth without being caught,” he said. “This fellow Smythe and your man Hirsch are definitely playing both sides of the fence without scruples. When are you supposed to meet Hirsch again?”
“I was supposed to meet him today,” replied Veronica. “He will be angry when I am not there. But it can’t be helped.”
“If you can put up with it just a little while longer, with the photographs from Garabaldi’s and the evidence from the transaction in Columbia, you should have enough to turn the tables on him for good.”
When Veronica walked to where Cecil Hirsh was waiting for her after her return from Columbia, she could tell even from a distance that he was upset. Seth was already in place across the street to capture the final exchange of documents. The day was sunny and bright and required no artificial light. He was confident Hirsch would never know he was being caught on film.
“You were supposed to have been here three days ago,” said Cecil angrily as Veronica approached. “Where have you been? I called at your house three times and your housekeeper said she hadn’t seen you in a week.”
“It is a long way to Columbia and back,” replied Veronica.
“Not that long. I know the train schedules. What’s going on, Veronica?”
“Nothing’s going on. I met your man Mr. Smythe. Here’s what he gave me for you,” she added, handing him the envelope. “He said the money was inside. And remember, a third of it is mine.”
“I never agreed to that.”
“It was understood.”
“Maybe by you, but not by me.”
“Cecil,” said Veronica determinedly, at last voicing the words she had been practicing for days, “I told you, I want a third. Otherwise I am out of this for good and you can find someone else to do your dirty work for you.”
Hirsch laughed with derision. He had for so long looked down on Veronica as intellectually empty-headed that her sudden display of backbone struck him as humorously ridiculous. But his laughter was short-lived. Quickly he became serious again.
“I told you, Veronica,” he said, “that you’re in it too deep. You’ll get out when I say you’re out, and not before. Here is your payment—two hundred as always.” He handed her a small envelope.
Veronica took it but did not reply immediately. She returned his gaze with an expression Cecil could not quite understand. She stared straight into his eyes with a bold look of confidence that was every bit the equal of his own. He found himself momentarily nonplussed. He did not exactly know how to respond. This was a side of Veronica he had never encountered before.
“If I refuse to continue?” she said at length.
“Come, Veronica,” rejoined Cecil, “why be difficult? Don’t force my hand. I told you that if you try something like that, I would have no choice…
He let his voice trail away, making his meaning clear.
“No choice but to turn me in? Is that what you are thinking? Have you never stopped to think, Cecil, that perhaps two can play that game?
“Veronica!” laughed Hirsch. “Do you honestly think I have left myself so vulnerable as that? If you so much as hint to anyone that I am involved, it will all fall on your head faster than it did Rose Greenhow’s. Remember what happened to her—she was thrown in prison.”
“Maybe that is a chance I am willing to take,” said Veronica. “Maybe I have a few cards up my own sleeve, Cecil.”
“Veronica!” laughed Cecil. “I have known you too long!”
“Have it your way,” she replied. “But I am telling you that I am through. If you try to implicate me in any way, you may find it more unpleasant than you anticipated.”
She rose and walked away, shaking a little but feeling better than she had in a long time.
Hirsch watched Veronica go, chuckling to himself at what he considered her empty threats, yet with a qualm or two in his stomach.
She sounded confident in herself… too confident. He was going to have to think about all this, and let her cool her heels for a while. He would handle the next couple of deliveries himself before bringing her into it again.
Forty-Eight
As no additional payments
on any of the loans to his four cousins were forthcoming by Richmond Davidson, additional documentation continued periodically to arrive, furthering step by inevitable step the legal procedures against Greenwood. Together Richmond and Carolyn prayed—what else could they do but pray, for they saw no way out of the legal morass other than that Harland and Stuart and Margaret and Pamela drop the proceedings. Thin though they considered that possibility, it was eliminated altogether from their considerations when Harland himself appeared one day at Greenwood.
They greeted him with attempted cordiality which he received with the aloof air of a man who is all business, even with one of his closest relatives, and asked that a room be prepared for him. He would be staying a few days, he said, to look things over and decide what was to be done with the place once it was his.
“Oh, and I thought it best to serve you these papers in person,” he added, handing his cousin a brown envelope. “A court date has been set for a hearing on the case. You will find everything in here and in order—that is, of course, unless you have in recent weeks come up with some means to comply with our demand for full payment.”
“No… no, there has been no change,” said Richmond. “We are unable to meet the demand.”
“Yes, well… right, then—I suppose we shall see you in court, then, and have the matter settled there.”
He glanced to Richmond’s side to where Carolyn stood, her eyes swimming in tears of crushing disbelief to see her beloved Greenwood slowly slipping away.
“I reiterate again,” said Harland, “how deeply I regret this unfortunate turn of events. If there was only some other way… but, sadly, you see, as things stand, my hands are tied. The other three insist on their rightful due from the estate, and… well, there you are. I really have no choice but to go along. Of course, none of us want to see you destitute. We are not without compassion. We will make certain that you are left with ample provision to see that there is a roof over your heads… perhaps some small house in the town here. Now, if you don’t mind, I would like to go to my room and be left alone to go over these papers and double-check the legal descriptions. What time would dinner be served?”
“Six-thirty,” replied Carolyn in a choking voice.
“Ah, yes… right. Good… I will see you then.”
The following days were excruciating for Carolyn, quietly humiliating for Richmond. Slowly word spread throughout the Greenwood family that the haughty visitor who was snooping about and poking his head in everywhere uninvited, was Mr. Davidson’s cousin who was likely to soon be the new owner of Greenwood, after which time none of them would have a place to live. Smoke blew out of Nancy Shaw’s ears to see her beloved master spoken to in such a degrading manner and treated as a common servant as the two men walked about, and she redoubled her efforts to forestall what now seemed to be the inevitable. If for lack of a nail a war could be lost, she would not see her private war on behalf of her master and mistress lost for lack of so much as a single copper penny.
Harland Davidson left.
Papers and packets continued to arrive.
The day approached when they would have to leave for the Southern capital and face the court of judgment. Through Cynthia to Cherity, from Cherity to Sydney and Chigua, and thence to Nancy and the rest, it became known that ten days hence Mr. and Mrs. Davidson would leave and be gone for two or three days, after which time no one could predict what the future would hold for Greenwood. In her own heart, though they never suspected a thing, the hours of waiting hung just as heavy for Cherity as they did for Richmond and Carolyn. Time was running out for everyone.
The ten days became eight… then five.
The next day the mail arrived. Along with the rest was an envelope for Cherity. Carolyn took it to her.
“Cherity, dear,” she said, “you have a letter from Boston.”
Trying to hide her agitation, Cherity took it, closed the door, and with trembling fingers tore open the envelope. Moments later, overjoyed beyond belief, she was dashing out of the house in search of Sydney and Nancy.
Forty-Nine
When Nancy Shaw appeared at the big house to see Carolyn, with all that had been on her mind lately, Nancy’s request was altogether unexpected.
“Does you hab anything speshul planned fo’ services dis Lord’s day, Miz Carolyn?” asked Nancy.
“No, I don’t suppose so, Nancy,” replied Carolyn. “To tell you the truth, I had hardly thought about it. I am not sure I’m going to be much good to do anything,” she added with a weary smile. “Mr. Davidson and I have to leave on Tuesday for a few days and my mind has been occupied with that. Why—did you have something in mind?”
“No, Miz Carolyn, only jus’ dat I been tellin’ folks dey oughta be comin’ ter services. I’m thinkin’ we’s maybe gwine hab a heap er folks on Sunday.”
“That sounds wonderful,” said Carolyn, thinking it appropriate if it was to be one of the final such services to be held at Greenwood. “We will look forward to it.”
Sunday came and dawned bright. Still not quite understanding why Nancy would expect an influx of visitors on this particular day, Richmond and Sydney and some of the Negro men were out early moving carriages and buggies out of the barn to make room for thirty or forty people, which they considered more than ample.
Nancy’s predictions were indeed prophetic. By midmorning blacks from around the neighborhood began arriving in ones and twos and threes. Nancy and Sydney were on hand to greet them and lead them into the barn, but until Carolyn chanced to glance out her upstairs window she had no idea of the magnitude of the crowd gathering outside.
“My goodness!” she exclaimed. “Richmond… Richmond, come here—you have to see this!”
“What in the world is going on!” said Richmond as he joined her. “Is something afoot I didn’t know about?”
“I know nothing about it either. Nancy told me she had invited a few people, but I certainly expected nothing like this. I don’t know if the barn will hold everyone! Look at them—there must be fifty people milling around down there!”
“Well, wife, we had better get ready and get down there. Your congregation awaits!”
“This is hardly my doing! I want you standing beside me—I am used to sharing my heart with women, not speaking to a crowd!”
Their astonishment had only begun. As they walked outside together, they saw a large carriage just rounding into sight.
“If I am not mistaken…,” began Richmond gazing at it making its approach, then as it slowed and stopped in front of them.
“It is Mr. and Mrs. Brannon!” he exclaimed, walking forward with outstretched hand to greet his Quaker neighbor from over the hills. “What a surprise, this is delightful!”
“You remember my cousin Mueller,” said Brannon as they shook hands. He gestured back toward the carriage where the rest of Brannon’s passengers were climbing to the ground. But Carolyn’s eyes had suddenly recognized the Negro man and woman who had come with the two Quaker couples.
A gasp sounded from her mouth.
“Lucindy!” she exclaimed, dashing forward and swallowing the black mother in her arms. “And Caleb!” she added to her husband beside her. “I can’t imagine… Whatever are you doing here?”
“We heard dere wuz gwine be a speshul church service dis mornin’,” replied Caleb with a wide grin. “So Mister and Missus Mueller an’ us, we figgered dat wuz somethin’ we didn’t want ter miss.”
“Well I am delighted! I don’t know that it is going to be anything special. Good heavens—oh, it is so good to see you both!”
Richmond and Carolyn walked with their friends, still greeting and talking with them enthusiastically, toward the barn whose doors stood wide open. The sight as they walked inside took their breath away. The barn was nearly filled to overflowing, mostly with blacks, from Greenwood and Oakbriar and the McClellan and other plantations, as well as from Dove’s Landing.
A hush descended as they walked in, every eye in the place upon th
em, for all knew why they were there… everyone but Richmond and Carolyn Davidson in whose honor and out of respect and admiration for whom they had come, in some cases great distances. There were easily more than a hundred faces staring back at them as the two Davidsons entered, paused, and looked around dumbfounded in the dim light. At first they could see only the whites of a multitude of eyes and white teeth. But as their eyes became accustomed to the shadows of the barn, they looked about to see people on all sides of them, spread out seated on the ground and bales of hay, crowded into every corner, some clustered together on what equipment remained in the place, and rising like a wave of humanity upward into the hayloft, where a few of the more adventurous of the men were crowded together with their legs dangling over the massive crossbeams of the roof.
From somewhere, a woman’s low voice began to sing. They recognized it instantly as Nancy’s.
Nearer, my God, to Thee…
Nearer to Thee!
Within seconds she was joined by the great spontaneous choir all around her, and the barn filled with more complex and rapturous harmonies than could have been imagined this side of glory.
E’en though it be a cross
That raiseth me.
Still all my song shall be,
American Dreams Trilogy Page 142