by Mike Ashley
Zack was waving a Bible as he shouted, “ ‘And he that stealeth a man, and selleth him, or if he be found in his hand, he shall surely be put to death!’ That is Exodus chapter 21, verse 16, gentlemen.” Zack pointed at several men in the crowd. “Sinners! Evil are your deeds. You, Nathaniel Stiles, and you, Langdon Shaw, and you, Joshua Pendleton, dealers in flesh, heed the words of the Lord. ‘If a man be found stealing any of his brethren of the children of Israel and maketh merchandise of him, or selleth him; then that thief shall die!’ Deuteronomy 24: 7.”
By now the men whom Zack had singled out had heard enough and were shouldering their way toward their tormentor. Temple heard the grumbling of the crowd increase in volume. Its mood had turned from astonishment to fury. Henley and Hezekiah were still a few yards away from the cart when Langdon Shaw and his fellow slave traders jumped into the cart. Shaw was an ox of a man in a grey frock coat and tall hat who loomed over the slight abolitionist.
“You hush up, Zack Jessop,” Shaw bellowed. “Reverend Percy preaches how the Bible supports slavery in Leviticus.”
Zack shook his Bible at Shaw. “Flesh peddler! ‘Stand fast therefore in the liberty wherewith Christ has made us free, and be not entangled again with the yoke of bondage!’ Galatians 5:1. So much for your false reverend. You can’t have freedom and slavery in the same country, Shaw.”
“Shut him up!” someone yelled from the listeners on the ground.
At this Temple kicked his horse, and the big stallion began a relentless walk through the onlookers. Men jumped or stumbled out of the way. The Jessops had reached the cart and were trying to convince the slave traders to leave, when suddenly Zack jumped on the driver’s seat.
“Citizens of Richmond, take a lesson from our founders! Washington hated slavery, as did Franklin and Madison and Adams! They knew slavery is a sin. They left its destruction to us. Think! We cannot speak of the rights of man, of freedom under God, while slavery exists. It is an abomination!”
“Get him!” Joshua Pendleton shouted. He lunged at Zack along with Shaw and Nathaniel Stiles.
Zack went down under their fists. The Jessops hopped onto the cart and started trying to pull the slave traders off their victim, but Stiles landed a punch on Hezekiah’s jaw. Henley stumbled over someone’s foot and went down beside his son. Zack cried out under the barrage of fists. Both Stiles and Pendleton started kicking. The crowd surged toward the cart, and other men jumped into the fray. Temple had seen enough. He reined in the bay and drew the Colt revolver from the holster he’d donned before he set out. Aiming at a giant oak, he fired one shot into a thick limb. The shot sent wood splinters spewing from the branch. The brawlers turned toward him, and Temple cocked the gun, aiming over the head of Langdon Shaw.
“Gentlemen, I insist that this unseemly conduct cease at once.”
Those on the ground scuttled away from Temple while the slave traders gawked at him for a moment. He didn’t give them time to recover from their surprise.
“Uncle Henley, Cousin Hezekiah, would you be so kind as to help Zack? I’m of a mind to take him home. He has no further business in Wall Street, I reckon.”
Henley grabbed Zack by the collar and lifted him to his feet. Hezekiah hauled his brother off the cart. Zack’s nose was bleeding, and he had a cut on his forehead. He could hardly walk, and he protected his ribs with one arm. Hezekiah half carried his brother to the bay. Temple holstered his revolver and helped Hezekiah push Zack into the saddle.
Retrieving his weapon, he held it so that the barrel pointed at the sky. Temple turned his horse and moved him back through the crowd. One bystander, braver or more foolhardy than the rest, snarled at them.
“We shoulda strung that troublemaker up right here.”
Raising an eyebrow, Temple paused to consider the man. “Don’t hold with murder. Sure glad you didn’t try. I would have hated to put a bullet in anybody today. Haven’t had to shoot anyone since I left San Antonio.” Temple nudged his horse into a trot, leaving Wall Street behind. He felt Zack’s head drop to his shoulder.
“Idiot.”
“Hello, Temple.” Zack slurred his words.
“Hold on. I’m taking you home. Idiot.”
Zack groaned. “Slavery’s evil.”
“Look, Zack. Did you convince anyone back there? No. Did you do those poor Negroes who were being sold any good? No. All you did was rile up the slave traders and their customers, who will likely take out their tempers on the black folk.”
“Someone has to stick up for them,” Zack muttered behind Temple’s back.
“Yeah, they do. But listen to me, my friend. We got to try to free the slaves peacefully.”
“Never happen.”
Temple turned the bay down the street on which the Jessops lived. “But we got to try, because the alternative is bloody and tragic. Isn’t it enough that the planters think the North is going to destroy the South’s whole way of living? Do you have to come down here and make it worse?” He pulled up at the townhouse and dismounted. Handing the reins to the Jessop groom, Temple helped Zack off the horse. The moment his feet touched the ground, his knees buckled. Temple hauled his cousin’s arm over his shoulder and helped him into the house. “Blamed fool. You haven’t got a subtle bone in your scrawny body.”
“All true Christians know slavery’s a sin,” Zack mumbled.
“Really? You think so? ’Cause I wasn’t sure.”
“No need for sarcasm, old man. God, my head hurts.”
Laurietta Jessop was waiting in the entry hall with her daughter. “Zachariah! What happened to you?” She hovered over her son, touching his bruised face. Zack gazed at his mother blearily.
“He’s fine, Aunt,” Temple said. “Just had a little accident.”
Clemency gave a ladylike snort and pointed up the sweeping, curved staircase. “Please take him to his room. We’ll attend to him directly.”
“I’ll send for Dr Benson,” Laurietta said as she examined her son. “Zachariah’s head looks like it may need stitching. I declare I don’t understand you, child. I really don’t.”
Shaking their heads, the ladies proceeded to the pantry and warming kitchen at the back of the house where Aunt Matilda, the housekeeper, kept medical supplies. Temple learned from Augustus that Oram and his wife had gone home in disgust. Henley and Hezekiah arrived soon afterward and were swept along to be doctored. After the injured ones had been tended to, Hezekiah went home. Temple retreated to his room to clean his gun and wonder where the police had been in all the ruckus at the slave markets. Dr Benson came and went, also shaking his head.
An hour later, the mayor of Richmond and a gaggle of police officials arrived and closeted themselves with Henley. Temple kept out of it, knowing that it would take all of his uncle’s powers of persuasion to keep his son out of jail. Over an hour later, Henley emerged from his study and escorted his guests out of the house. Temple was in the library off the front hall buried in a Dickens novel he’d found there. Through the library doorway he saw the mayor and his party leave. Sighing, he tried to return to his reading. He was a lover of peace and tranquillity in the home, and the ructions in the Jessop house had irritated him into a foul mood. Back home he’d built his house south of Austin on a small hill among ancient live oaks, as far away from town as he could get without being too troubled by the distance. And there wasn’t anybody to cause trouble there either, for he hadn’t yet succumbed to his parents’ pleas to get married.
The front door opened again, and Temple saw Henley shoot into the hall dogged by a red-faced, stocky man in a tight, cheap suit. Henley scurried around a marble-topped table, putting it between him and his pursuer.
“I’m terribly sorry for your loss, Mr Coutts.” Henley hovered nervously behind the table as Coutts charged toward the table.
“Look, Mr Jessop, that boy of yours has absconded with my Nigra,” Coutts growled over the marble at Henley, “and I want to know what you’re going to do about it.”
“Do?”
“Seems to me like you and Zachariah owe me the price of the Nigra!”
At the mention of money, Henley drew himself up to his full height and stared at his persecutor. “Are you mad? I owe you nothing. Your man could have run off by himself, and in any case, you’ve no proof my son has done anything wrong.”
“Now see here!” Coutts’ face turned a darker shade of red. “It’s the middle of harvest, and I done lost my only field hand. I seen – saw Zachariah hanging around the cabins last week a preachin’ and carrying on. I chased him off my land and told him not to come back or I’d take my shotgun to him. Next thing I know, my Nigra up and disappears. I can’t afford to get another field hand, and half my crop is going to ruin if I don’t get more help. It’s all ’cause of your boy, and I mean to have satisfaction.”
“I know the law, Coutts, and you must have proof that my son aided in the escape. You don’t have it, or you’d have said so.”
Coutts pounded his fist on the table, his face now almost purple with rage. “By God, Jessop, Zachariah is responsible, and one way or another, he’s going to pay!”
Jamming his hat on his head, Coutts stomped out of the house. Temple watched Henley wipe his forehead with his handkerchief and retire to his study. The Dickens story forgotten in his lap, Temple wondered how many more people Zack had riled near to violence. Coutts appeared to be one of those men of modest origins who burned to rise to the rank of planter. He’d bought a field hand much too expensive for his means, even dressed in a suit that seemed to be his idea of a refined gentleman’s outfit. Zack had riled a lot of folks who didn’t take kindly to being riled. Whatever the case, this visit was turning out to be an even worse experience that he’d feared. He was going to make his excuses and leave in the morning.
Dinner was a quiet, solemn event with only the immediate family. It was a stifling evening, the air full of moisture and insects. The windows throughout the house were open to take advantage of any breeze, and a small Negro lad plied the overhead fan as the Jessops and Temple dined. Earlier Hezekiah and Oram had returned to give Henley the benefit of their opinions about what to do with Zack. Then they left again to try to placate their scandalized wives.
“He’s got to leave,” Hezekiah had pronounced. “You can’t protect him any longer. The mayor is going to arrest and charge him again, and this time you won’t be able to stop them from trying him. He’s already disgraced the family, Father. Get rid of Zack before it’s too late.”
When Henley demurred, his eldest son lost his temper. “Damnation! You’ve pampered that boy since he was born. Let him have his way, let him become an irresponsible rascal while Oram and I had to conduct ourselves like perfect gentlemen. And look at the result!” Under his breath Hezekiah muttered, “And we know you love him above us all.” He had stomped out of the house, but Oram was ready to take his place.
“Listen here, Father. It’s not just the disgrace. Old Tobias Coutts is just a small farmer, and if he doesn’t get his man back, he’ll be ruined. There’s no telling how many Negroes Zack has talked into absconding. And once the authorities find out, there will be no saving your favourite son. He’ll be lucky if they don’t hang him! And think of the scandal. Everyone will say our family has offended against propriety and decency.”
The arrival of the mayor had cut short Oram’s diatribe, and now Henley was morosely silent. Everyone was preoccupied, and no one brought up the subject of the family scandal. Augustus served coffee and liquor in the drawing room after dinner, then left the Jessops and Temple to sit in silence around the dark, cold fireplace. Finally Clemency sighed and set down her cup.
“Papa, what did the mayor say? Is he going to arrest Zachariah?”
Henley, whose lower lip was swollen, hunched his shoulders and refused to look at his daughter.
Clemency pressed her thin lips together. “Hez and Oram are right. We are talked about in the most disgusting manner because of Zack. I receive horrible looks on the streets, and soon we’ll be dropped from everyone’s invitation list. Today’s outrage is beyond endurance. If you don’t separate yourself from Zack, we’re ruined.” When her father remained silent, Clemency jumped to her feet. “Can you say nothing? What are we to do? Zack will ruin any prospect I have of marriage. If you let him do that, I’ll never forgive you!”
“Clem.” Laurietta’s steely voice cut through the shocked silence. “You’re overwrought. Please retire to your room at once. I’m sure your cousin Temple will forgive your rudeness.”
“But Mama, you know –”
“At once, Clemency.”
Laurietta didn’t have to raise her voice. She was one of those women whose relentless calm and assurance achieved more than many women could with their vapours and hysterics. Clemency gave her father a fulminating glance before rushing out of the room.
Feeling distinctly uncomfortable, Temple said, “I shall retire, Aunt, and give you both some privacy.”
“Please stay,” Laurietta replied. “Your uncle and I would like to discuss Zachariah’s situation with you, my dear. You’ve known him for a long time, and you’re not so caught up in this tangle as we are. Cool advice is what we want, and Mr Jessop respects you. Don’t you, Mr Jessop.”
Rousing from his stupor, Henley said, “Yes, Mrs Jessop, quite so.”
“What is there to discuss?” Temple asked. “It’s clear Zack can’t continue as he has. He’s got to go back to Maryland. He can work for abolition there.”
Henley straightened up, alert at last. “He won’t go!”
“We’ve tried to make him,” Laurietta added. “Mr Jessop even put him on the train, but he got off again and hid on some farm. We’ve tried to talk sense into him, but it’s like talking to a fence post. He just listens for a while and then starts preaching at us. He says we should free our slaves at once. It’s impossible to make him see reason.”
“I even gave him money,” Henley said.
Laurietta shook her head. “I told you that wouldn’t work.”
Temple frowned at his uncle. “Do you mean you tried to bribe him into leaving?”
Henley shifted, uncomfortable in his chair. “Well, I figured I could help him set up his law office in Baltimore. Zack’s going to be an excellent attorney, and he wouldn’t be so far away that we couldn’t visit him. But Zack said if I gave him money he’d use it to free Negroes.” Henley’s eyes widened at the thought. “I couldn’t allow him to do that.”
“We’re at a loss, Temple my dear.” Laurietta lifted her china cup and sipped her coffee. “You would be doing us a great service if you’d talk to him. Make him understand how he’s ruining our lives. His sister is desperate. As you may know, she hasn’t had much success in gaining the attention of a suitable gentleman. The poor girl continues to hope, and this scandal is driving her to distraction. And you know how resentful Hezekiah and Oram are. The situation is unbearable.”
“Besides,” Henley said, giving his wife a sheepish glance, “I – I gave the mayor my word that Zachariah would leave tomorrow morning. Temple, my boy, could you possibly take him back to Texas with you? Like you said, there are fewer Negroes where you are. He can do less harm among the Indians and Spaniards.”
That’s how Temple found himself mounting the stairs on his way to Zack’s sick room. “Should never have stopped here. Shoulda gone right to Norfolk and sailed for Galveston.”
Outside Zack’s door Temple met Aunt Matilda, who bore a tray with fresh bandages and bottle liniment. Matilda was a fixture in the Jessop household. Her mother and grandmother had been with the family before her, and Matilda’s three sons and her daughter all remained with the Jessops as well. A tall woman with a wide streak of practicality, Matilda was the one person to whom everyone came for comfort and advice in troubled times. Temple wondered what she made of Zachariah’s abolitionist sentiments. But then, he always figured you couldn’t tell what a slave was really feeling ’cause they weren’t in any position to give their real opinion. If they were smart,
they learned real fast not to let on to white folks what they were thinking.
“I’ll take that tray for you, Aunt Matilda.”
“Don’t be foolish, child. I can carry it. I ain’t that old.”
Indeed, like all her family, Matilda was long-limbed and possessed of a hearty strength that carried her through long work hours and tasks requiring the strength of a man. Temple opened the door for her, and followed her into the sickroom. Zack was propped up in bed as they entered. He was in the act of handing something to a young footman, who pocketed the object, bowed and left. Matilda glared at the young Negro as she set her tray down beside the bed.
“No need to give that boy any extra, Mister Zack. He just spend it on fripperies for a little gal down the road. She don’t need no more from my Benjamin. I don’t approve of fripperies.”
“It wasn’t for that, Aunt Matilda.” Zack winced at she began removing the bandages wrapped around his head.
“You get on out, Benjamin.” Aunt Matilda pointed at the door. “And tell brother Rawley I said you boys ain’t to come up here an’ pester Master Zachariah.”
“Yessum.” Benjamin backed out of the room with speed as his mother continued to grumble.
“Them boys get into mischief, Mister Zachariah. Can’t be having ’em misbehave. They gettin’ too big for that. Benjamin think he a man ’cause he’s seventeen. Lord help me.”
Temple found a chair and drew it up beside the bed as Matilda’s complaints faded. “How are you feeling, Zack?”
“Like devils are pounding my skull. If you’ve come to convince me to give up my abolition talks, spare me.”
“I’m not gonna try to convince you of anything,” Temple said. “It appears to me that neither side is listening to the other anyway. You can’t persuade somebody who isn’t even listening. Seems you ought to have realized that by now.” Temple held up his hand. “Now, don’t start arguing. It’ll just make your head hurt.”
“I’m right!” Zack snapped. Aunt Matilda placed a new bandage over the stitched cut on his forehead, and he gasped. “Ow! Please Aunt Matilda.”