American Dreams Trilogy

by Michael Phillips

  As the six rings were passed on, however, the seventh was never found. And division remained in the Cherokee nation awaiting a future time when the spirit of the red feather would be buried forever and unity would reign within the hearts of the Cherokee people.

  Eighty-Three

  Seth and Cherity were married in October of 1865 at Greenwood. The Steddings family came to Virginia for the wedding. Rarely had guests to Greenwood been received with more rejoicing.

  After his year-long hiatus, Seth realized that he missed photography. With Cherity’s encouragement, he wrote to Mr. McClarin to ask if his offer still stood. Receiving an enthusiastic reply, he and Cherity traveled to Boston and for the next several years spent a good deal of time in Massachusetts and traveling throughout the country under the auspices of the Herald, photographing the continued growth of the country.

  Thomas and Deanna were married in Mount Holly the following spring of the year 1866. The entire Greenwood family of Shaws, LeFleures, and Davidsons took the train north for the festive occasion which took place at the newly built home of Aaron and Zaphorah Steddings.

  The newlyweds located for a time at Greenwood, where, with Seth and Cherity gone much of the time, Thomas worked with Sydney and his father. Within two or three years the plantation was as prosperous as ever, and able to offer good paying jobs to most Negroes who wanted them, whether from the area or traveling through. Though the Underground Railroad was no longer in operation, Greenwood’s reputation had spread so wide, with so many blacks having spent a night or two there on their travels, that for many years thereafter, transient blacks continued to appear, often hoping simply for a night’s lodging, sometimes asking for food, and occasionally hoping to find work. It was one of the greatest blessings of Richmond and Carolyn’s later years that they never had to turn anyone away, and were always able to offer work to the willing.

  Thomas too had felt what Richmond had noticed, that he was more at peace with himself in the North. He knew that wherever they went, as a white man with a black wife, they were sure to face prejudice and condemnation. It was obvious from looks cast their way whenever they went into Dove’s Landing. But it would likely be less in the North, and it would be there that they would be most able to live a normal life.

  Thomas continued to contemplate and pray about his dream. After more discussion with his father, he enrolled in the Philadelphia College of Physicians. By the time of his graduation three years later, he and Deanna had a daughter, with another child on the way. They settled in Mount Holly, where, before many more years, Dr. Thomas Davidson was known and loved by everyone for miles around. No longer under his brother’s or his father’s shadow, whenever his family came to visit, they had only to identify themselves as Dr. Davidson’s brother, or Dr. Davidson’s father or Dr. Davidson’s mother, and instantly smiles and welcoming greetings spread across the faces of perfect strangers. It warmed Carolyn’s heart to see how respected and loved her youngest son had become in the Quaker community.

  Thomas’s decision to relocate to Mount Holly, along with the realization that they were gradually tiring of travel, eventually brought Seth and Cherity back to Greenwood. By now with a considerable reputation following him, Seth retired from professional photography, though kept up on the latest developments and continued as an amateur photographer for the rest of his life. Much to Carolyn’s delight over the next seven years, two sons and two daughters were born to them.

  Seth and Cherity had visited Veronica and Richard every time their travels took them to Washington, and continued to keep in touch. Veronica became a nurse and was greatly loved everywhere her caring hands ministered to the sick. She and Richard had two daughters.

  Thomas and Deanna eventually became father and mother to seven children to carry on the two proud family lines.

  Mr. Brown’s gold was distributed according to his wishes. In 1866 when land in Kansas was opened for sale, Seth and Cherity and Sydney and Chigua traveled to Kansas together, fulfilling Cherity’s own dream of returning to the place of her girlhood fancies, as well as Chigua’s to connect again with her ancestry. There they purchased five thousand acres in southern Kansas which they gave to the Cherokee tribe. After extensive searching in the area in and around Bluejacket, Chigua found several cousins, as well as one uncle and two aunts who had known her grandfather.

  Word eventually came that Cameron Beaumont had been shot and killed while attempting a bank robbery in Missouri.

  Denton Beaumont died a few years later of unknown causes.

  After his father’s death, Wyatt Beaumont attempted to run operations at Oakbriar for a time though he did not enjoy the work. Less and less of Oakbriar’s land was cultivated and the place gradually ran down. Eventually Wyatt gave up the plantation for politics. He ran for Congress representing Virginia and in time became one of the state’s leading democratic politicians, while secretly also rising in the leadership of the Ku Klux Klan. With Washington as the center of his activities, and facing desperate financial pressure at Oakbriar, he finally offered the property for sale.

  Seth and Cherity and Chigua had been keeping the rest of their portion of the Brown money for some purpose. They now put it to use to fulfill an idea they hoped he would approve of and be proud of. They bought Oakbriar for the purpose of establishing a home and school for displaced black and native Indian children. They also hoped to turn the plantation around into a profit-making venture again where, as at Greenwood, any man or woman willing to work could find a job. It was an ambitious dream. But with the LeFleures and Shaws initially overseeing the operation, word began to spread about their work, and people brought children in need to them, and they slowly began to reclaim the fields and bring the plantation back to life. Leon Riggs was hired as the man who knew more about Oakbriar than anyone, and he and Sydney became close friends.

  And now, as third owners of a large Virginia plantation with land they could pass on to their children, Chigua and Sydney had indeed risen high from the days of their affliction. The stately son of a Jamaican plantation owner was a landowner again. He had always walked tall and proud since escaping the bonds of slavery. All who knew him recognized, like Joseph of old, sold into foreign chains by his brothers, that he was a man in whom the mettle of character had grown strong in the furnace of suffering, preparing him for a higher destiny than his captors could ever have imagined.

  Scully Riggs returned to Dove’s Landing with a Washington D.C. nurse as his bride. He bought the lumberyard near the train station, where he had worked for years.

  Though still a young man, Richard Fitzpatrick retired from government work. He and Veronica had been discussing the advantages to their daughters of a slower paced country environment, now regretting that Oakbriar had passed out of the family. Lady Daphne, who had lived with them in Washington since the death of Veronica’s father, as much as she had once longed for the city life, could not think of anything she would rather do than return to Virginia.

  Richmond and Carolyn heard of their wish to return to the country and immediately set their minds revolving on possibilities. The one drawback to the project at Oakbriar had till then been finding capable teachers and staff. They set the matter before Richard and Veronica, whether Veronica would consider being the matron of the orphanage, and whether Richard would want to assume partial oversight of Oakbriar’s farming operations with Sydney, and in time, if they chose, also to buy into the ownership of the cooperative venture. They would be free to live at Oakbriar without cost as if it were theirs, and share in the profits of what was produced. Within a year Veronica and Lady Daphne were back in their old home. Richard took quickly to plantation work, and the joint operation of the two adjacent plantations, with what was still called the Brown tract between them, under the oversight of Richmond, Seth, Sydney, Richard, and Leon Riggs became the envy of central Virginia. Isaac and Aaron Shaw remained, both married, and eventually became foremen for the two plantations. Veronica’s two daughters became avid horsewomen and
often went riding with Seth and Cherity’s girls.

  It was clear that Lady Daphne found it trying to have dark-skinned children underfoot everywhere in the once proud old Southern plantation house. And the commotion was often a little too much for her. But the life of the place did her good. If she were not yet color-blind, the fact that the children were did her soul good in the end. There are those to whom only a single talent is given, and from them, perhaps, less is expected.

  Veronica, on the other hand, thrived. She took the children to her heart and to them she became the mother many of them had lost. Though Nancy was on hand as a black mother, and Chigua was at Oakbriar most days as a Cherokee mother, Veronica remained the favorite of most, for it was she who tucked the younger ones in most nights and came to soothe away their nightmares in the darkness with soft lullabies at their bedside. She was one of those rare souls, so dear to the Father’s heart, who truly change and grow toward life’s good, who perhaps had only been given two talents, but who in the end gave him back four in return. She and Cherity remained dear friends, and, when their involved schedules would permit, were often seen riding out in the hills together.

  Eighty-Four

  A black lady appeared one day at Greenwood, alone and having apparently walked all the way from town. As she trudged up to the front of the house carrying a single carpetbag, the sweat on her face might have been from a much longer walk. She had taken a journey similar to that which many in years past had traveled on foot. She, however, had come most of the way by train.

  She walked onto the porch, dropped her bag, and knocked on the door. It was Cherity who answered it.

  “Dis be da place dey call Greenwood?” said their strange visitor.

  “Yes it is,” answered Cherity, now thirty-one.

  The lady let out a long sigh of relief. “Dat’s da bes’ news I heard all day!” she said. “I cum a long way an I’s too old ter be trab’lin’ so far. I don’ reckon you git many railroad visitors dese days, but duz you maybe hab room for an’ old black woman wif no place else ter go who remembers dat railroad dat took a heap er folks ter freedom?”

  “Of course!” smiled Cherity. “We always have room. Won’t you come in and—”

  Just then Carolyn joined them from inside the house. Her hair was graying, for she had recently turned sixty, but her smile was more radiant than ever.

  “Carolyn!” said Cherity excitedly. “The railroad is back in business! We have a visitor.”

  Carolyn stepped forward and held out her hand. “Welcome to Greenwood,” she said. “I am Carolyn Davidson. You may stay as long as you need to. Where are you going?”

  “Well, I sent so many people through here when I wuz a stashun mistress, I figgered it wuz time fo’ me ter git on dat railroad an’ ter my sister’s in da Norf afore everyone forgot an I had no more places ter stay.”

  “Surely you did not walk all this way!” said Carolyn in surprise.

  “I cum by train moster da way. But I knew where da stashuns wuz, an’ I speshully knew ’bout dis place here on account er lots er folks dat cum back tol’ me ’bout it. An’ dere’s one young lady I wants ter see agin an’ I’s hopin’ you kin tell me where she got to. Her name’s Lucindy.”

  “Lucindy!” exclaimed Carolyn. “Of course we can! It’s not much farther from here. How do you know Lucindy?”

  “She cum from da plantashun where I wuz. I’s Amaritta… Amaritta Beacham.”

  “Well, Amaritta, you just come in and rest,” said Carolyn, taking her hand as Cherity picked up her carpetbag. “We have a room that is just waiting for you.”

  It happened that Thomas and Deanna and their first daughter were visiting Greenwood at the time.

  Five days later, Amaritta was sitting on Greenwood’s front porch, fanning herself in the heat and gradually feeling rested from her long trip, but in no hurry to leave this idyllic setting. She had already come to realize why she kept hearing about the place called Greenwood through the years, and why they said angels watched over it.

  A little three-year-old girl ran out of the house, saw her sitting there, turned and ran toward her, then scampered up into her lap.

  “Tell me yo’ name agin, honey chile?” asked Amaritta.

  “I’m Hannah Steddings,” she replied. “Would you tell me a story, Grandma Amaritta?”

  “I’s reckon I cud do dat.”

  Little Hannah snuggled down in the huge lap and waited.

  “It wuz a long, long time ago,” Amaritta began. “Dis big land wuz as fresh as spring. It wuz a mighty big land wif green mountains an’ clean ribers an’ everythin’ good dat you cud ermagine. An’ dere were people who lived here too. Dey wuz called Indians. But da good Lord saw dat dey needed frien’s. So he put it inter da hearts er people ober da sea, kings an’ common folk, dat here wuz a land where all people cud live together, whatever da color er dere skin. So folks started ter cum, dey did—w’ite folks an’ black folks, sons an’ daughters er kings. An’ dey wuz kings wif black skin an’ w’ite skin an’ brown skin like yours. An’ dey came from da lan’ er ribers, ter dis lan’ dat had even bigger ribers runnin’ wiff clean clear water. Duz you know what da water in dose ribers wuz called, chile?”

  “No, what, Grandma Amaritta?”

  “Dey wuz called da waters er freedom, chile.”

  From an open upstairs window, Carolyn Davidson stood listening with tears in her eyes as Amaritta told the story of America so simply that her own little granddaughter could understand it.

  Behind her, two young women saw her and approached quietly. They also heard Amaritta’s voice from below and did not want to disturb the story. Carolyn heard them walking softly up behind her. She glanced back, smiled, and stretched out her arms and pulled both of her sons’ wives to her, the one a Cherokee, the other a Negro.

  How blessed they were, Carolyn thought, to be able to know such love between the races in a single family. She prayed that her grandchildren never noticed that they were of different colors.

  Cherity and Deanna leaned their heads against the shoulders of this wonderful woman they loved so much and listened to the story from the porch below.

  “Well, folks came, an’ dey lived wiff dose Indians dat wuz here before,” Amaritta continued to Deanna’s little daughter. “But sum er dose folks forgot ’bout dose waters er freedom, an’ dey did terrible things ter dere brothers an’ sisters. But everybody didn’t forgit dat dream er freedom, folks like dese folks dat live here—dey didn’t forgit, an’ so finally dat dream cum true when folks cud be free an’ all live together like it is here. Now, chile, it ain’t like dis everywhere, no sir! Dere’s still folks dat habn’t taken a good drink er dose waters yet. But one day, dis whole country’ll be like it is here, an den maybe one day da whole worl’. Least dat’s what God’s got in mind, I reckon. Dat’s God’s dream an’ effen he’s dream in’ it, den it’s gwine happen one day. But till den, we’s jes’ all gotter do our part ter live dat freedom dream where he puts us. Dat’s what I tried ter do where I wuz. An’ it seems ter me dat he put you in a right good an’ happy place, ’cause da waters from dose ol’ ribers—they’s jes’ springin’ up all ober roun’ here!”

  Endnotes

  * Though I have fictionalized the landing of the Shield, and drawn upon other sources as well, I am deeply indebted to Janet Whitney’s marvelously written and engaging book, John Woolman, Quaker, George G. Harrap & Co, London, 1943, for its insightful perspectives on New Jersey’s colonization by the Quakers. It is one of the most expertly written and readable biographies I have read and I heartily recommend it to anyone wishing a more in-depth treatment of John Woolman’s life.

  * John Woolman’s Journal, Chapter 1

  * John Woolman’s Journal, Chapter 1

  * John Woolman’s Journal, Chapter 1

  * John Woolman’s Journal, Chapter 2

  * This fictionalization of Woolman’s southern journey is adapted from Janet Whitney’s wonderful account in John Woolman, Quaker, pages 110-
115. I have occasionally used her words and would here credit her not only with perception and insight in her handling of this phase of Woolman’s life, but with her masterful writing craft upon which I could never hope to improve. The brilliant analogy of John Woolman as “thief of complacency” is hers. Her account brings John Woolman the man alive as no other account I have read.

  * John Woolman’s Journal, Chapter 1

  * John Woolman’s Journal, Chapter 8

  * Though here amplified and fictionalized, this account is taken from John Woolmans Journal, ch. 3.

  * Though the scenes of the story, and the persons of Aaron and Zaphorah Steddings and their family, are all fictionalized, John and Martha Woolman, and their ancestry, are factual.

  * A second Fugitive Slave Law, which figured even more prominently into the activities of the Underground Railroad as the Civil War approached, was passed in 1850.

  * A similar account is told in the classic, Friendly Persuasion by Jessamyn West, from which I have adapted Hannah White’s story.

  * From John Woolman’s Journal, Chapter V.