Chapter 9

April 29, 1867

We had breakfasted early and were on the road before sun up. I had arranged with Mrs. Johnson the evening before as I settled our bill, for Ruth to deliver a hamper that contained our lunch, at the same time she brought our breakfast. After three days of inactivity we all seemed ready for travel, even though it was to a destination unknown.

During our storm imposed captivity the children and I had formed a friendship. Joshua, while still mute seemed to look upon me as something more than a white stranger. His actions said as much, for he was never far from me and had appointed himself as my erstwhile assistant, whether it came to caring for the animals or fetching wood for the fire. I doubted he ever knew his father. The children never mentioned anyone other than their mother. I had discovered she had died not long ago and they had been turned out by the new owners of a large farm somewhere to the south of where I had found them.

Even Tamar seemed to regard me in a new light. Her suspicions, had been somewhat allayed during the time spent in the barn. I never raised my voice to the children which included Tobias and Ruth. I made it a point to always be courteous and when I spoke to them I tried to sit instead of standing. She still kept the knife close, but now when I approached, she did not immediately seek it.

I pondered what to do with the children. I was certain I couldn’t abandon them. I had rescued them from their new form of servitude, or worse, and I would not leave them to their own devices, despite Tamar’s early protestations that she could take care of herself and her brother. Being in the company of a large well-armed man meant they would be left unmolested.

We set off in the pre-dawn chill, Tamar and Joshua in their usual place under a blanket behind the seat of the wagon. I had let it be known around the inn that I had a horse for sale but that fact had garnered little interest. As we set off again I had Tulip and the spare horse again tethered to the back of the wagon. Gray, as was our practice, unburdened by saddle or tack took the lead. I drove the wagon, well aware that I would be more comfortable on Gray’s back than on the hard wooden seat, but there was nothing for it. After the children settled, I lit a cigar and contemplated the new life of the spring countryside.

We traveled slowly and perhaps an hour later, in the bright morning sunshine I saw them step from the trees at the side of the road. Ruth and Tobias met me with smiles of uncertainty. Each carried a small cloth bundle that contained their few possessions.

I pulled to a stop next to them, and at the same time scanned the road for riders.

Fortunately all was quiet at this early hour, and as I jumped down from my perch, my leg reminding me that it didn’t much care for the wagon seat.

I greeted them. “Any trouble?”

They shook their heads.

“Good. Let’s not tarry. Tobias, get up on the seat. Ruth, into the back with the children. It might be wise for you to keep out of sight for a time.”

Tobias tossed his bundle onto the seat and with the alacrity of youth quickly followed.

Ruth seemed surprised and giggled as I lifted her slight frame over the side rail and gently set her in the wagon. I placed her next to the smiling children who had emerged from under their blanket. They laughed at the sight of her and Tobias on the seat, tickled at having kept the secret of their impending flight since our plan was hatched before we departed Zion Crossroads.

I quickly saddled and mounted Gray, rifle across the saddle, and we set off, this time at a slightly faster pace, trying to put as many miles between us and the inn as possible before any pursuit could be organized. I doubted any fuss would be made over the absence of a black boy and a kitchen girl. Would the Johnson’s equate their disappearance with our departure? Perhaps, but I felt nothing would come of it.

It was not like the days before the war when there were severe penalties for even encouraging slaves to run away, much less be involved in what was considered theft of property. Those laws no longer applied. The Johnson’s had no claim on Tobias, and sadly, because of the hard times, Ruth was merely a girl who could be easily replaced. And if Mrs. Johnson had detected any sign of Mister Johnson’s growing interest in the girl she most likely would have been immediately dismissed. Ruth’s precarious situation would have quickly turned desperate again.

If we encountered anyone on the road they would take little notice of a black boy driving a wagon pulled by a mule. Ruth was another matter. Even under her soot-stained face and the rags she wore, she was pretty and would be noticed. I thought it best to keep her hidden for a while until time and distance made us secure.

Tobias grinned as we traveled the road. I admired his optimism in casting his lot with a white man and some children he hardly knew, although I knew he and Tamar had formed a friendship in the past few days. Certainly the smile on Tamar’s face said much when she saw him emerge from the woods.

During the next hour I occasionally rode back along our track. Finally, about mid-day I ceased to worry, and sheathed my rifle. Traffic on the road picked up, again mostly with wagons loaded with the materials bound for Richmond. No one gave a second look to a wagon driven by a black youth accompanied by a man on horseback. We didn’t stop for our mid-day meal, but ate as we traveled. Mrs. Johnson was an excellent cook although Ruth confirmed what I had surmised, that she had taken on much of the cooking duties of the inn. Ruth told me she was threatened with beating and dismissal if she was ever caught sampling the dishes that she prepared for the Johnsons and their guests. Being hungry and in the presence of such abundance must have been torture for her.

By afternoon we entered the town of Charlottesville. Ruth and the children emerged from under the blanket in the bed of the wagon and goggled at the sight of large buildings, sporting white columns and tall porticos. Charlottesville seemed an active place with little evidence the war had touched it. It was the home of the University of Virginia founded by our third President, Thomas Jefferson who had lived nearby. I thought perhaps Gray would stop here, but as our little caravan traveled the main street, he showed no inclination to pause.

I halted us before a general store with displays of dresses and bolts of cloth in the windows, having decided that it was time to find some clothing for my charges. The rags they wore made me ashamed, although their wretchedness seemed to make no impression on the citizenry we passed. I surmised that blacks were still mostly unseen in the heart of the south. Their ubiquity made them less visible, and their condition was of even less interest since they were no longer property. Unfortunately, as I had learned, they appeared to be blamed for much of the misery brought by the war.

It was obvious that Tamar and Joshua had never been in such an establishment. I smiled as I thought of what they might make of a place like New York City. That thought led to another, and suddenly the face of Elizabeth appeared before me. I pushed those disturbing thoughts away as I watched the members of my ragged little band, move among the well-stocked aisles, eyes wide in amazement at the bounty evidenced in the place. They seemed to arrive at the counter containing jars of brightly-colored hard candy at the same time. It was unclear if they had any idea what delights these jars contained, but they were fascinated. I heard Ruth say, “That’s sugar candy.” She ran her hand along the side of a large clear jar filled with bright red pieces.

Uncomprehending, Tamar and Joshua simply looked at her. Tobias just grinned.

She appeared at a loss as to how to explain it to the uninitiated. “They take sugar and cook it and color it somehow, and it ... it tastes ... divine.” She closed her eyes at some long-ago memory.

The two youngest pressed forward to examine the jars more closely.

“Hey, you! What do you think you’re doing in here?” a loud voice bellowed.

The children jumped. Wide-eyed, they looked for the source of the hostile voice.

The voice belonged to a portly, florid-faced, balding man, dressed in shirtsleeves and black trousers held up by dark braces.

Before I could step forward, he said, “Get out ... out of my store! You don’t belong in here. Now git!”

They turned to flee. Ruth had fire in her eyes, but at the same time looked close to tears, her dream of sweet confections shattered by this rude man. Then they saw me and moved to my side as I raised my hand slightly to indicate I would handle things.

“Sir, no harm was meant, just curiosity.”

Behind the man I saw a young woman in a pale blue calico dress. She was a slim blonde, hardly out of her teens.

“I mean to do some business here, sir, and I wish to purchase some clothing for my companions and some food stuffs and other necessities. We’ll have some of the sweets when we’ve completed our purchases.”

I smiled, trying my best to reassure him that we were there with some purpose.

The man stepped closer and with hands on hips sputtered, “Sir, we do not welcome nigras, and I will thank you to instruct your ... your ... these persons, to depart the premises. You, sir, and this girl.” He pointed at Ruth, although with a look of disapproval, “may stay or go as you wish, but I will not have them,” He pointed at Tamar, Tobias and Joshua, “in my establishment!”

The young blonde woman looked embarrassed at the rude behavior of the man I presumed to be some relation, perhaps her father. I had to use a great deal of restraint to keep from showing my temper. His eyes widened as I realized I had unconsciously moved my right hand across my body and rested it on my holster. With effort, I moved my hand back to my side. We were no longer at war with these people, and rudeness and ill manners were not offenses which warranted death, despite how, in this case, it might serve the cause of humanity.

“Your words are unwarranted, and offensive to me and my companions. I only wish to purchase some items and then resume our journey. You have the items we require and you are in the business of serving the populace. I must insist you provide the items we are seeking.”

“No sir, I will not. I demand you leave the premises now!”

He looked past me toward the door and seemed relieved. “There you are constable. This man and these nigras refuse to leave my store. I demand you arrest them and escort them out!”

I turned to look at the person he had addressed, and saw a familiar face. He was dressed in a dark suit, white shirt and he held a black hat in his hand. Could it be? He had changed but little since we had shared cigars in that yard two years past at Appomattox Courthouse. I wondered if he would recognize me, but then I saw him smile. “Colonel, how are you? Never thought our paths would cross again.”

“Nor did I Colonel, although, I’ve often thought of that day.”

The proprietor looked at the two of us as I stepped forward to shake my acquaintance’s hand.

“You know this man?” He asked with uncertainty.

“Yes, we have met.”

Gathering himself like some strutting rooster, the proprietor pointed to me, “I care little for your past relationship, just do your duty constable and escort these people from my store!”

From the hard look in the constable’s eyes, I could see disapproval. Perhaps, the constable was no more impressed with this pigeon trying to pass as a hawk, than I was.

The young woman moved forward, and I saw her blush under the gaze of the man I only knew as Colonel. I had never learned his name at our brief meeting two years ago. Perhaps, his appearance here was not a coincidence. She seemed to have trouble looking at him and I saw the slightest of smiles from him. What was their relationship? Shortly, she turned to me, her face still aglow, without looking at the proprietor. “Sir, I will accompany you and the children to the sidewalk, where the children may be seated, and I will do my best to accommodate your needs. Please tell me what you will require and I will strive to find the correct items. Perhaps this young woman,” she gestured toward Ruth, “may be persuaded to assist me.”

I could see Ruth was pleased to be called ‘young woman, ‘ but she made no move until she looked to me for approval.

“Thank you Miss...”

“Esther Tremain, at your service sir.”

The proprietor looked as if he was about to speak, but was silenced by a look from Miss Tremain that said she would brook no disagreement. My friend the constable simply watched with arms folded across his chest and a smile of amusement.

Soon the children were seated outside the store on benches provided for passersby and Ruth and Miss Tremain had taken my penciled list back into the store. Ruth came out a few minutes later with a pitcher of cool cider compliments of Miss Tremain. I had Tobias fetch the basket that contained the remains of our lunch and as we waited Tobias passed out thick slices of smoked ham, cheese, pickles, and fresh bread.

“I’m Jonathan Carter.” I held out my hand to the unnamed veteran of Appomattox.

“Isaiah Tillman. It’s a pleasure to see you again.”

“Likewise, a pleasure. Will you join us, we have plenty.” I gestured to the food.

“Thank you. I’ve just eaten.” He eyed the food, and smiled. “To my regret.”

We watched the children at their meal for a few moments and then I apologized. “I’m sorry to have caused a disturbance inside, but I’ve discovered I am woefully uninformed about the prevailing attitudes toward former slaves. I have discovered that little has changed, although perhaps some attitudes have hardened since the conclusion of the war. I can understand some of the feelings, but this attitude, which extends even to children, is difficult to explain.”

Constable Tillman looked at me and after some thought said, “There is a great deal of bitterness toward the North that still prevails. Former slaves are the embodiment of all the things perceived to have caused such hardships of the last six years, and as such, they are blamed. They are also, unfortunately, easy targets. I do my best to keep things quiet and lawful but the combination of bitterness, and in many cases an overindulgence in corn liquor, causes many problems. Take for example, Mr. Tremain. Generally, he seems to be the personification of probity, but he harbors much hatred for anyone of the black race. That hatred extends to you sir, as a northerner and apparently a former soldier. In the company of these black children, you embody all that he despises.”

I simply shook my head. “That is unfortunate. Since I began my travels I have come to see that those things that tore us apart as a nation have left wounds that will take some time to heal.”

“Indeed. “The entire endeavor seems wasteful doesn’t it ... the late war I mean.”

“You’ll get no argument from me.” The Union was preserved, but the cost was close to unbearable and there are many who are still paying the price.” I replied solemnly, sensing his mood.

He considered my words for a moment. “I never owned a slave ... always thought it was a dirty business.”

“Then why?” I immediately regretted my question. “I apologize. It is not my place to question or even ask about your motives. It is my recollection that you are a Virginian.”

He nodded, lost in thought.

I pulled a couple of cigars from my vest pocket and I could see his thoughts were elsewhere as we completed the centuries-old ritual of preparing our cigars for smoking.

We stood on the sidewalk like two old friends watching the few puffs of white in a nearly perfect spring afternoon sky. Finally, he spoke. “I have thought upon that question on numerous occasions over the years. I cannot excuse my actions by saying, as General Lee and others did, that my response to the call to arms was brought about by some feeling of patriotism for my home state. I hated slavery, not only for what it did to the black man, but what it did to the white man.”

Seeing my puzzlement he continued. “We of the slave states, and I find that an unfortunate but accurate description, had two classes of work; slave and everything else. Generally speaking, no white person would do slave work, and no black person was allowed to do white work despite talent or disposition. Despite much evidence to the contrary, we refused to accept the fact that many slaves could do white work. Our imagined perception of blacks as savages at worst, or simpleminded children at best, left us ill prepared for the aftermath of the late war. Men like Thomas Tremain will never let loose of the idea that we were wronged, and that blacks have no place other than in the fields or as servants.”

I nodded my understanding, as he continued.

“I was not early to the war. I had a wife and child and a successful law practice in Culpepper.” He gestured, cigar in hand toward the north. To read newspaper accounts, the South was without need of my assistance. I could pretend that war was something outside my life and it would resolve itself without me. I kept those blinders firmly in place even when the Confederate Army established garrisons there in early eighteen sixty two. In the middle of that year Union Forces pushed across the Rappahannock and into the County, but were pushed out by General Lee later in that year. General Lee made Culpepper his winter quarters that year and actually supped at my table. I came to know General Lee and his officers and despite my early misgivings I discovered many of his soldiers were not fighting to preserve slavery so much as they were to preserve their states from the interference of the Federal government.”

I had heard that argument before.

“Eventually I was recruited into the Fourth Virginia Cavalry.”

He drew on his cigar as he stared into that place four years past. “Colonel, are you familiar with the cavalry battle that took place at Brandy Station?”

“Indeed. Although I was serving in Tennessee at the time, there was much interest in that battle among those of us in cavalry units. Historians are now calling it the greatest cavalry battle to take place in the western hemisphere. It is said that some nineteen thousand men took part.”

“That was my first battle.”

I shook my head. “That must have been quite a baptism of fire.”

He said nothing, still far away. After some time he spoke again, “Perhaps a right-thinking man, a man of principles and conviction, would have packed up his wife and son and abandoned his practice and his friends and neighbors, and headed for the North as soon as the first shots were fired at Fort Sumter. Alas, I did not, and that decision cost me all that I held dear.”

The sorrow in his voice was palpable and his emotions quite close to the surface.

He took off his hat and stared into the distance again, as the breeze ruffled his dark hair.

We stood and smoked in silence for several minutes until interrupted by Miss Tremain and Ruth. They were in a high spirits, and each carried bundles wrapped in heavy brown paper tied with twine.