A Free Heart

by Amelia C. Adams

  Harriet opened her mouth to make another retort, but found that she couldn’t. She’d thought Tom’s actions had been impetuous and improper, and true, he shouldn’t have grabbed her like he did, but now, knowing the reasons behind it . . . She saw not a man trying to take advantage, but a boy seeking after his lost love. It was more touching than any romantic novel she’d ever read.

  “I am sorry for being so hard on you, Tom,” she said after a long moment of trying to decide if she could even speak. “I didn’t understand.”

  “Don’t worry about it. In fact, I think it makes for a mighty interesting story.” Tom smiled and gave her a nod. “Now, tell me about this lady we’re about to go meet.”

  They really had nothing else to do to occupy their time, so Harriet told him all about growing up on the plantation and what it was like to own slaves. She wished she could skip over that part of the story and that she could do away with the memory altogether, but that was impossible. She couldn’t change the facts of what happened any more than a bee could change its stripes. So she tried to focus on her good memories, on the fudge Jane used to make and her wonderful dinner rolls, the way she’d come tuck Harriet in at night, even though Harriet had her own nanny, and the way Harriet knew she could always go to Jane when her mother was away or distracted, which happened far too often.

  “In many ways, Jane was like a mother to me as well as being a dear friend,” Harriet explained. “Marrying Sam and becoming an extension of his family would have felt natural because Jane and I were already close.”

  “How did Jane feel about your engagement to Sam?” Tom asked. He’d been listening attentively, which had encouraged Harriet to say even more than she normally would. He probably now knew more about her than any other person alive, and it would be a miracle if his ears still worked at the end of their journey.

  “I don’t know,” Harriet confessed. “She had moved to Kansas by that point, and I don’t know if she had even been told of our plans. Part of this trip is to speak to her about that. I hate to think that we’d made a decision that would bring her grief.”

  Tom shifted in his seat. “You might . . .”

  “What?”“Nothing. I didn’t say anything.”

  “Yes, you certainly did. Now, what was it?”

  Tom shifted again, and Harriet wondered if he’d suddenly sat on a cocklebur. “Jane was a slave for a long time, probably even her whole life. You might want to be open to the possibility that she might not have been in favor of her son marrying her former owner’s daughter.”

  “Even though Sam was in love with me?” Harriet couldn’t help the sharp note that entered her voice.

  Tom held up both hands. “You know as well as I do that tension gets high between the races. I worked on a ranch with a couple of men who used to be slaves. They had plenty to say against the plantation owners, and from where I sit, they were justified. If Jane’s holding any kind of ill feelings, it’s best you prepare yourself for that now.”

  “But I never supported any of my father’s doings when it came to slavery. As soon as I was old enough to realize what was going on, I stood up to him. Wouldn’t she know that? Wouldn’t she understand?” Their perfectly nice conversation had taken a horrible turn, and Harriet couldn’t believe what Tom was saying. Hadn’t he been listening at all when she told him how she felt about the slaves?

  “I’m not saying you had anything to do with it. But sometimes, people have a hard time separating the actions of one person from the actions of another. Listen, Harriet, I don’t mean to imply anything. I’m just trying to prepare you in case you aren’t received the way you’d like to be.”

  Was he really saying anything she hadn’t already thought? No, but hearing it out loud made it real and frightening. She also didn’t like how familiar he was becoming with her situation when they weren’t even friends—they’d only called a truce a few days ago, and that hardly entitled him to become so interested in her life and to offer advice.

  “I believe I’m quite fatigued and will close my eyes for a bit, Mr. White. If you’ll excuse me.” She tried to lay her head on the headrest behind her, which was hard to do while wearing a hat, but she tried it all the same.

  “Well, there you go again.”

  Her eyes snapped open. “What do you mean?”

  Tom looked at her with disgust. “Any time I annoy you, you start using all your fancified language and push me aside like I’m nothing more than a piece of hay under your foot. I guess you expect me to feel put in my place, like I’ve been told what’s what. I have some information for you, Miss Martin. Part of being a free man is not caring anymore what other people think. I’ve never been a slave, but I had to get free from my own situation, and I did. Since that day, as long as I’ve felt right with myself, that’s all I’ve cared about.” He shook his head. “I felt bad for offending you because my actions weren’t what they should have been. But when I’ve done no wrong, when all I’ve tried to do is help you, and you decide I’m no longer worth your time, I refuse to be made to feel like less of a man because of it. Enjoy your snooze, and I’ll wake you when we get there.”

  He turned away and pulled his hat over his eyes. Harriet was stunned into silence. Had she really been treating him that way? Before she’d even finished asking herself the question, she knew that yes, she had, and she was thoroughly ashamed of herself for it. She had made a case for being fair to all the slaves and treating them as equals, and yet she hadn’t done that for Tom, who was also a human being with rights. She peeked over at him, his neatly trimmed blond hair sticking out from under the sides of his hat. She’d been so blind, so determined to prove that the slave and the former slave were deserving of respect, that she hadn’t extended that courtesy to all, regardless of their backgrounds. If she was going to fight for equality, it needed to be offered to everyone or it could not be considered true equality.

  She tried to doze, but her thoughts kept her from it. A bit later, she decided she was hungry, and opened the basket Miss Hampton had packed for them. Tom accepted a sandwich and a bit of cake without saying much, then pulled his hat back down and resumed his nap. At least, that’s the impression he tried to give—Harriet suspected that a hard-working man like Tom wasn’t used to taking naps, and was just trying to avoid her. She couldn’t blame him. She wasn’t pleased with her company at that moment either.

  Chapter Nine

  When the train pulled in to Salina at last, Harriet’s legs were so weak from disuse, she felt as though they would collapse underneath her. She made her way down the aisle and managed to descend the steps to the platform without sagging or swaying, which she considered to be a huge accomplishment.

  After her set-to with Tom, she assumed that he’d forget his vow to take care of her and that he’d just as soon leave her to her own devices. But as soon as they stepped off the train, he was right at her elbow, looking around for clear paths to walk, steering her where it would be easiest to get through the crowd. On more than one occasion, she caught men looking at her with thinly disguised interest, but then their eyes would flick over to Tom and they’d move away. She had to admit, he did make a rather imposing figure, and she wouldn’t want to go up against him for any reason.

  Tom guided her over to the ticket booth. “Pardon me, sir. I have an address. Is this near or far from here? Is it possible to walk?”The man on the other side of the window picked up the envelope Tom slid under the glass partition and squinted at it through his dusty spectacles. “That’s quite a piece from here, son. I wouldn’t try this on foot unless you had all day and a healthy snack. There’s a livery stable just yonder. Renting a buggy is probably your best option.”

  Tom thanked him, put the envelope back in his pocket, and took Harriet by the elbow again. “If anyone asks, we’re married,” he said low in her ear.

  “I beg your pardon. What?” She glanced at him with indignation.

  “You are my wife. Now keep moving off the platform. We need to get out of this
crowd.”

  “You certainly could have picked a more charming way to propose.” She had to move her feet twice as fast to keep up with him. The grip he had on her elbow, while not painful, was definitely firm, and she knew there was no squirming out of it.

  They reached the livery stable just as she caught sight of two men from the train station following them. At least, she assumed they had followed them, but she was sure that many of the passengers just off the train were in need of a buggy. It was probably a coincidence that had placed them all here at the same time.

  Tom spoke to the owner about a rental while Harriet moved down the row and found a nice little chestnut mare to stroke. One of her favorite memories of childhood was riding her horse, Cherry, along the paths that lined the plantation. She had never forgotten that feeling of total independence as she flew along in the wind, her hair streaming behind her. Cherry had grown old and was no longer able to be ridden by the time Harriet was twelve, but she’d visited her in the stables every day until her father finally sold the horse off the property.

  “Looks like there’s more than one feisty little filly in this place.”

  She turned slowly at the voice behind her. The man from the train station leaned up against a nearby stall, his booted foot resting on the lowest rung. A quick glance around told her that she’d wandered farther than she meant to from the front of the stable. “My husband will thank you not to speak to me in that way,” she said, lifting her chin.

  “Your husband? I didn’t see a husband. A brother, maybe, or a cousin, but that man’s not married to you.” He jerked his head in Tom’s direction. “You’re as distant from each other as a cat from water.”

  “We had a slight disagreement on the train. I assure you, sir, that we are quite married. But even if we weren’t, you have no right to address a lady in this way.” Harriet strode past him and found Tom, looping her arm through his. He didn’t seem surprised at all, but merely continued his conversation, the fingers of his other hand stroking hers where they lay on his sleeve. Though she knew it was all for show, she liked the sensation, even through her lace glove.

  “Shall we go, sweetheart?” he said a moment later. “I’ve arranged for a very nice buggy, and this gentleman’s ready to hitch it up for us.”

  “Yes, please, dear. I’m eager to be on our way.” She glanced over at the man in the shadows, who watched with a glower on his face.

  They climbed into their buggy as soon as it was ready and began the next leg of their travels. As soon as the livery stables were far behind them, Harriet exhaled. “I can’t tell you how glad I am to be away from there. That man looked at me like he wanted to toss me in his wagon and carry me off to who-knows-where.”

  Tom flicked the reins to urge the horse along. “You need to keep in mind, Miss Martin, that there are very few women out here. In the towns, sure, there are more, but along the railroads or in the gold mines? There are only a few, and the men have learned that if they want a woman to take them seriously at all, they have to make their intentions known. This isn’t a fancy city where you can take your time going to balls or fancy teas and get to know each other slowly. Sometimes these men are only in town twice a year, and if they don’t pick up what they need while they’re here, it could be another six months until they get another chance.”

  Harriet shuddered. “You make courting sound like a negotiation for goods at the general store.”

  “Sometimes that’s what it is. A man needs a wife, he sees a woman, and he makes a play for her. He’s also got to sell his pelts, pick up some flour and coffee, and get back to his camp before nightfall. He doesn’t have a lot of time to spend on it.”

  “But what about Elizabeth’s situation? She had to shoot and kill a man. He wasn’t looking for a wife. He was looking to harm her.”

  Tom studied the road as he replied, “Not every man in Kansas is like that, and men like that aren’t limited to Kansas. I came with you for a reason, Miss Martin. You shouldn’t be surprised—I warned you what could happen.”

  Harriet fell silent as they clip-clopped down the road. She had resisted his help at first, but now she was overwhelmed with gratitude for it.

  The farther away from town they drove, the houses became more and more spread out, and their condition deteriorated as well. Finally, Tom pulled the buggy up at the front gate of a small, but neat cottage, the nicest one along that stretch. “From what the owner of the livery stable said, this should be it.”

  Harriet stared at the house, her pulse quickening. Her heart was suddenly in her throat, and she wondered if this had been a foolish mistake. Perhaps they should have checked into a hotel first and gotten cleaned up. She was certain she was covered in several layers of grime after that long train ride, and that wasn’t how she wanted to present herself to Jane. She was just about to suggest to Tom that they leave and come back in an hour or two when a nicely dressed man exited the cabin and strolled out to meet them.

  “I beg your pardon,” he said, bobbing his head. “May I help you?”

  “Yes, please. We’re looking for Jane Robinson,” Tom replied.

  “Yes, I know Jane. She’s my wife.” The man glanced back at the house. He seemed torn between going to get her and protecting her. Harriet leaped in, hoping to set his mind at ease.

  “Mr. Robinson, my name is Harriet Martin. Jane used to live on my father’s plantation, and she took care of me when I was a little girl. Would you please tell her I’m here? I’d like to see her, but I’ll leave that to her choice, and if she’d rather not see me, we’ll leave.”

  Mr. Robinson seemed surprised. “Miss Martin, you say? Yes, Jane has spoken of you and your family. I’ll go inside and ask her.” He nodded a few more times and stepped away, then hastened up the walk.

  “He must not be used to strangers showing up at his house,” Tom remarked.

  Just seconds later, the front door flew open and a woman came running out, her skirts flapping behind her. Harriet couldn’t help herself—she leaped down from the buggy without waiting for help, nearly tripping over her own skirts in the process, and ran into the woman’s arms.

  “Baby girl, baby girl,” Jane crooned into her hair as they hugged, and Harriet nearly broke down with her sobs. She remembered Jane calling her that, remembered being carried in the arms that held her now. Jane finally pushed her back and held her at arms’ length, examining every inch of her face. Harriet remembered those kind, kind eyes.

  “I’d say she’s decided to see us,” Tom said with some amusement in his voice.

  “Yes, sir. Let’s bring your rig inside the fence so you can set a spell.” Mr. Robinson took hold of the horse’s bridle and led it through the gate. Harriet glanced over her shoulder at the sound of the men’s voices and saw what they were doing, but then her attention went right back to Jane.

  “Come inside,” Jane invited. “I just put on a pot of tea, and I have some fresh bread straight out of the oven. If I’d known you were coming, I’d have done something a little fancier.”

  “You have no idea how much I’ve missed your bread,” Harriet told her. “I can’t think of anything I’d like more.”

  Moments later, they were all seated around the table in the Robinsons’ neat kitchen, a pot of tea on the table and a plate of warm, homemade bread next to it. Harriet closed her eyes as she bit into her slice, slathered with homemade butter. “Oh, Jane,” she murmured after she swallowed, “this was worth the entire train ride to get here.”

  “Tell me where you’ve come from and how you found me,” Jane said. “I’m surely glad to see you, but it’s quite a surprise.”

  “Well, I ran away from home,” Harriet said, a little bit ashamed at how childish that sounded. “The South is a very uncomfortable place right now for people like me. Sam . . .” She swallowed. She couldn’t hesitate to say his name—talking about him was one of the reasons why she’d come. “Sam had told me where you were living, and I wrote to the postmaster. He confirmed it, and I couldn�
�t stay away. I’ve been in Topeka for the last several days, and now I’m here.”

  “All this way . . . just to see me?” Jane said, wonder in her voice.

  “Sir, I have a new bit of land out back where I’m planning to start a garden. Would you like to see it?” Mr. Robinson rose from the table, and Tom stood as well. It was a transparent excuse to leave the two women alone to talk, but Harriet was grateful for it.

  She waited until the door closed. “Of course to see you, Jane. You meant so much to me when I was a child, and I was heartbroken when you left. And then when Sam came back to Atlanta . . .” She hadn’t expected the tears that formed, but she did nothing to stop them from falling, either. “When Sam came back, I realized that we didn’t have to stop being friends simply because the war had put us on two different sides.”“You were never on a different side, baby girl. You were just a child, like one of my own.”

  “I know that, and I appreciate it so much.” Harriet paused and took a sip of her tea. “Did Sam write to you while he was in Atlanta last year?” she asked carefully.

  “Yes, he wrote to me, and he told me that he planned to marry the most beautiful girl in the world. He was so excited to bring you home with him, baby girl. His whole letter just exuded joy.”

  “Can you read now, Jane?”

  “I can. Sam taught me himself as soon as we moved here. It’s been a blessing in my life, it surely has.”

  Harriet paused again before asking the question she most wanted to ask. “And how did you feel about us getting married?”

  Jane didn’t answer for a long while. “Kansas has been good to us,” she said at long last. “The folks here have been accepting, for the most part, and my husband has a job and we’re able to live a comfortable life. We have everything we need, and nothing extra to clutter it up. Many former slaves have found homes here, and in fact, there’s talk of creating a town of all former slaves just a bit to the north of here. Don’t know if it will ever happen—it’s all talk for now. But I think it would be a good thing.”