Storm Clouds Rolling In & On To Richmond (Books 1 & 2 in the Bregdan Chronicles) by Ginny Dye - HTML preview

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Pepper pot, right hot!

All hot! All hot!

Makee back strong!

Makee live long!

Come buy my pepper pot!

Rose smiled at the black woman standing on the sidewalk next to a cart with its kettle of stew. She remembered her amazement the first time she had seen street vendors hawking their wares. The tiny woman who stood on the corner of Washington Street, no matter what the weather, was one of her favorites. Often, she stopped to talk to her, but not today. Today she was in a hurry.

My hoss is blind and he’s got no tail,

When he’s put in prison I’ll go his bail.

Yeddy go, sweet potatoes, oh!

Fif-en-ny bit a half peck!

Rose hurried past the vendor with his sweet potatoes as well. His leering looks made her nervous, anyway.

One look at the sky this morning had told her Philadelphia was going to have another winter storm. She was sure this winter was never going to end. By the first week of March in the South, the air would become warm with the promise of spring. Trees would sprout buds and the first crocuses would pop up from their winter hiding places. Here in Philadelphia, winter still held the city in its brutal grasp. She ducked her head against a blast of cold air and pressed on.

She reached the Quaker School for Females and gave a sigh of relief as she pushed inside. She pulled off her heavy coat, scarf and gloves, adding them to the assortment on the coat stand. Then she hurried into the classroom and took her usual seat in the front row. Today

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more than any other, she wanted to be on time and close to the speaker.

“Good morning, Rose.”

“Good morning, Alice.” It had taken Rose quite some time to become comfortable using her teacher’s first name. She had been taught to always use white people’s titles when she spoke with them. Mr., Miss, and Mrs.

were an integral part of her vocabulary. The Quaker custom of addressing people of all ages by their first names was foreign to her, but eventually it was becoming more comfortable. She appreciated the feeling of equality it offered her.

“Are you looking forward to our speaker today?”

“I certainly am. To actually talk to someone who has taught other blacks in the South… I have so many questions”

“Questions I’m sure she’ll be more than happy to answer,” Alice said with a smile.

The door opened and another group of students pushed their way in from the cold. Alice went to greet them while Rose opened the book she was now reading.

The rest of the room faded away as she once again lost herself in the world of Moby Dick.

It was a sudden silence that caught her attention. She looked up and hurriedly put her book away. The guest speaker had arrived. Rose watched as the matronly, middle-aged woman made her way to the front of the room. She was rather unremarkable looking, except for her eyes, which shone with caring and warmth as bright as the sun. Rose liked her immediately.

Alice made the introductions. “Good morning, class.

This is Marianne Lockins. I told you about her a few days ago. Until last week, she was in one of the contraband camps of Virginia working with the refugee slaves there.

She has returned to accumulate books for her school and has graciously agreed to speak with us today.” Alice stepped aside while Marianne took her place behind the simple podium.

Rose leaned forward, determined not to miss a single word. Her eyes were glued to the woman’s face. You could tell a lot by looking at a person’s face.

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Marianne’s voice was strong and surprisingly deep.

“Good morning. Thank you for having me here today. I have indeed come from one of the contraband camps in Virginia. I can easily say it has been the most exciting time of my life. I hope when I’m done talking that some of you will decide to take what has been given you here and give it to others.”

Rose could feel her heart rising to the challenge. She knew the camps were where she was supposed to be, but when? That was the answer she didn’t yet know.

Marianne smiled and began her story. “The contraband camp is not my first experience teaching in the South. I have been a teacher for many years. The last ten have been spent in southeastern Virginia, near Roanoke. I loved my job, and I loved the people I worked with, the adults as well as the children. Alas, things changed drastically as the war drew nearer. Many people decided those from the North were there to brainwash and miseducate their children. People began to watch me suspiciously—even those I had known for years. As the tensions mounted, there was another campaign mounting to rid the South of all Northern teachers.” She paused. “Even though they did not have qualified teachers in the South to take our places.” A sad look crossed her face. “I stayed as long as I could. When I was certain my life was in danger because of intense feelings, I decided it was time to leave. I came north hoping to start over again.”

Rose stared at her. She could not imagine anyone wanting to hurt this gentle-looking woman. She sighed.

She knew reason often fell to the wayside when intense feelings were involved.

“I was in for quite a shock when I moved north as well.

Because I had been a teacher in the South, I was suspected of disloyalties. I refused to belittle my previous students and friends. I believe the South has made grave errors in judgment. That does not mean I believe Southerners are bad people. There are people erring in grievous passions on both sides of this issue, I think.”

She paused again. “Anyway, I discovered before long there was no real place for me in the North, yet all I wanted to do was teach. I began to ask God what I was to

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do with the gifts he had given me. Not too long after, I heard about the contraband camps.”

Rose resisted the urge to start asking questions. She had to let Marianne finish her story. Alice had promised her some time with the speaker afterward if Marianne could stay.

“Going to the contraband camps was a truly incredible experience. I have always abhorred the idea of slavery, but I think in the back of my mind I held the belief that blacks really were inferior to whites. I wasn’t sure they could learn as well as whites.” She laughed, a deep laugh that spread to her whole face. “It’s rather embarrassing to admit that in a room full of very intelligent black students, but I feel I need to be honest with you. If any of you choose to go down there, I am afraid you will find it a rather prevalent attitude.”

Rose found her liking of the woman increasing. Her refreshing honesty reminded her of Carrie and Aunt Abby.

“I have never seen such a thirst for knowledge as I found in those camps. That seems to be the first thing former slaves want. They want education. They want to read and write. They are eager to make something of themselves.” She paused again, remembering. “My classes were full from the very beginning. Children came during the day, and even the youngest ones were hungry to learn. The adults came at night.” She shook her head.

“I have never seen such a desire to learn.

“And learn they have,” she said. “I have come north to accumulate books, as the supplies I have are simply inadequate. Many of my students have already surpassed what I have to teach them with. I struggle to keep them challenged. They are truly remarkable.” She looked down for a moment and then faced them again. “I realized quickly how unfounded my prejudices were. My students learn as quickly and well as any white people I have taught. Just like in a white school, there are students who learn faster than others, and ones who struggle to catch on. It has absolutely nothing to do with color.”

Her voice grew more serious. “Why I am telling you this? Because some of the teachers going there from the

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North are not willing to reexamine their prejudices. They assume their students are going to be slow. So many of them are. Or they drop out. It has broken my heart to see what has happened in some of the classes when mine are going so well.” She laughed. “I’m not trying to sound egotistical. I don’t necessarily believe my teaching techniques are better. I think it is simply because I believe in my students. My parents taught me from a very early age to believe in the power of an individual to achieve.”

Rose nodded her head as she listened. She had discovered the very same thing in teaching her students.

They achieved because she believed they could. Her belief had transferred to them.

“I truly hope some of you will join me in the camps.

The need is great, and I believe it will continue to get greater. The number of slaves increases every day. If indeed slavery is abolished in the South, the need will be phenomenal. There will literally be millions of people who have never had the benefit of education. You, more than anyone else, are qualified to teach your people. You know what it’s like to have to push beyond people’s prejudices to accomplish your dreams.”

Marianne looked out over the classroom with a brilliant smile. “Are there any questions you would like to ask?”

Rose’s hand was already in the air. “What does it take to be a good teacher, Marianne?”

Marianne smiled. “Well, of course it takes knowing how to teach, but I’d say that is only the beginning. You have to have a heart for what you’re doing. I believe, to be a good teacher, you have to be passionate about it.

Unfortunately, our country is full of women who have become teachers simply because there is nothing else for them to do. Teaching used to be the man’s domain, but when our country discovered women would teach for much less pay, the number of women teachers increased tremendously. Now, with so many of our men at war, teaching has fallen almost entirely into the hands of women. That is both good and bad. Many women have become teachers who never should have, because it’s

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more appealing than working in the mills or in the fields.

Yet, their students suffer.”

“Because they don’t love to teach?” Rose asked.

“Yes, because they don’t love to teach. You cannot impart a passion for learning if you yourself don’t have both a passion for learning and a love for your students.”

She paused. “I don’t want to be too hard on the women, though. Teaching is not only reading and writing.”

“What do you mean?” Rose asked. She blushed and looked around, realizing she was giving no one else a chance to talk. The others didn’t seem to mind, so she turned back around to hear the answer.

“Teachers have a rather difficult place in the community. Especially if they are young women. They are expected not only to teach, but to serve the community as well. The restrictions on them are very stern. For some reason, towns think that if a teacher has fun, it somehow keeps her from being a good teacher. I don’t share those feelings, but they can be very difficult to fight.”

“It’s worth it, isn’t it?” Rose asked anxiously.

“My goodness, yes,” Marianne laughed. “I would do nothing else. There is nothing like watching the face of a child light up when they finally catch on to what you’re teaching them.”

Rose smiled. “I know,” she said softly, more to herself than to anyone.

“You’re Rose, aren’t you?” Marianne asked with a smile.

Rose nodded.

“Alice has told me about you. About your desire to teach.”

“It’s all I want to do.”

Alice stepped to the front then. “It’s time for math class. Gather your books, and I will meet you in the other room.” She turned to Rose. “You may stay here and talk with Marianne. You two have a lot in common.”

Rose turned to Marianne as soon as the room was empty. “Thank you so much for coming today and telling us about the contraband camps.”

“Did you know anything of them before?”

Rose nodded. “I intend to teach there.”

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“Would you like a place in my school? I would be pleased to have you join me,” Marianne said sincerely.

Rose was startled. “Now?”

Marianne nodded. “Alice has told me about your plantation school. She says you are a very bright student, far above many here. You would be a wonderful addition to our school.”

Rose flushed with pleasure but shook her head. “I can’t go now.”

“Why not?”

Rose struggled to explain. “It’s not time yet. I know I will be teaching in the contraband camps, but there is still so much I want to learn. When I begin to help my people, I want to be as well-equipped as possible.” She paused. “I believe my people will be free someday soon. I feel it in my bones. I agree with you they are going to need black teachers who can understand them because they know where they have come from—teachers who understand that their perceived laziness is merely an indication of being told what to do all their lives and being robbed of any personal initiative.”

She stopped and looked Marianne straight in the eye.

“I don’t simply want to be a teacher, I want to be a leader for my people. I want to start schools that will make a difference.” She paused, embarrassed at her own honesty. She had never told anyone the full scope of her dream before.

Marianne reached forward and took her hand. “I believe you will do that, Rose,” she said. “You have a vision and a dream, and a willingness to work hard to make it come true. That combination can never be defeated.” She looked at the clock and rose to her feet. “I have to speak at a luncheon in a few minutes. I’m afraid I must be going, but I will count on hearing from you when you’re ready to come to the camps.”

“You can indeed count on it, Marianne,” Rose said.

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Rose was walking as fast on the way home as she had on the way to school. She knew Moses wouldn’t be home for a while, but being in the house waiting for him so that she could share her news was enough. Bursting through the door, she was startled to see him rise from the chair by the window. Obviously, he had been waiting for her.

“Moses! What in the world are you doing home this time of day? Did you lose your job?” She looked at him more closely. There was a huge grin on his face.

Moses shook his head. “Nope. I quit.”

Rose stared at him. “What in the world did you do a thing like that for?” In spite of his obvious happiness, she felt a pang of uneasiness. “Did something bad happen?”

Moses laughed and stepped forward to take her hand.

“Nothing happened. At least not anything bad. Come over by the window. I want to talk to you.”

Rose followed him to the window and took a seat. “All right,” she said. “I’m listening.”

Moses gave her a brilliant smile. “I was accepted as a Union spy today,” he said triumphantly.

Rose gasped and sank back against the pillows. She knew Moses wanted her to be excited, but the first thing that flashed through her mind was that they were going to be apart. “Why don’t you tell me more about it,” she managed.

“McClellan is finally going to make his move. I heard he met with Lincoln two days ago, and the pressure is on.

The plan is to take Richmond. They figure if they can take the capital, the Confederacy will collapse. They are going to go in from the coast.”

“Past the plantation,” Rose murmured, frightened for Carrie.

Moses read her face. “I’ve thought of Carrie, too,” he said with a troubled look. “I’ve taken a look at the map, though, and we don’t seem to be going too awfully close to the plantation. It looks like we’ll be north of it.”

Rose nodded, but she was still troubled. “What will you be doing?”

Moses shrugged. “Whatever they tell me, I reckon.

They need someone who knows the area and can get around without raising too much suspicion. Someone

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who can help them figure out the best way to get where they’re going. I’ll help anyway I can.”

Rose had rarely seen him so excited. She knew how much he wanted to play a part in helping the Union win, and that he hoped it would mean the end to slavery. She also knew how much he wanted to return south to find his family. She took a deep breath and smiled. “When do you leave?”

Moses hesitated but held her gaze. “Tomorrow.”

Rose felt as if she had been kicked in the stomach.

“Tomorrow?” she whispered.

Moses nodded. “I know it’s sudden, honey, but they are already beginning to pull together the troops. Now that the decision has been made, everything needs to move quickly.”

Rose shook her head, too stunned to really comprehend what he was saying. “How many of you?”

“How many Union troops?”

“No,” Rose answered. “How many black spies?”

Again Moses hesitated. “Just one. Me.”

Rose stared at him. “You’re going to be the only black man with all those white men?”

Moses nodded again, the excitement returning to his face. “I could be blazing the way for more blacks to follow.

If I do a good job, if I can prove myself, maybe they’ll let other blacks serve. There are thousands eager to enlist.”

Rose struggled to push down the bile of fear rushing to her throat. “Let me get this straight. You are leaving tomorrow to be the only black spy with thousands of white men?”

Moses stood and walked over to her, then he lifted her from the chair and took her into his arms. “I’ll be fine, Rose. You know I’ve got to do this.”

“Yes, I know,” Rose murmured into his broad chest.

She wrapped her arms around him and began to sob.

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Dinner that night was a somber affair. Aunt Abby had been as stunned as Rose when she arrived home and received the news. She had insisted on fixing a special dinner. Now, an hour later, Rose could hardly remember what she had eaten. Whatever it had been, it was sitting like a lead weight in the bottom of her stomach. Moses was still talking quietly to Aunt Abby when she excused herself and climbed up the stairs to their bedroom.

When she entered the room, all she could do was stare dully at the canopy bed. Soon, she would be sleeping alone. Soon, she would be spending all her nights wondering if Moses was dead or alive. She knelt beside the window and stared out at the swirling snowflakes dancing in the light of the gas lamps lining the street.

“Lettin’ go of someone you love... Why girl, that be the hardest thing you ever have to do.”

Rose lifted her head as her mama’s words rang through her heart. It was as if her mama was right in the room with her. She could almost feel her wrinkled hand smoothing her hair as she talked.

“You gonna think ‘bout him every day. You gonna miss him with an achin’ every day. That’s how you gonna keep him alive in your heart, girl.”

“But Mama, what if I never see him again? What if something happens to him?” Rose moaned.

“Then you’ll cry and go on livin’. But girl, you be borrowing trouble ‘fore there be trouble to borrow. You done be lettin’ that fear take over your heart again. What happened to your trust, chile? What happened to your trust?”

Rose bowed her head on the windowsill. What, indeed, had happened to her trust? How could she totally trust God one minute and wallow in fear the next?

“Trustin’ done take a lifetime, Rose girl. Every time, it seems like you got to learn it again. But it gets to be some easier. You finally figure out that God does really love you.

Then the trustin’ get easier. God done already know how you feel. Let him take you through the hard times. He’ll teach you to trust...”

Tears filled Rose’s eyes when she finally looked up from the windowsill. A strange peace had entered her

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heart. Along with it came an understanding. Moses needed to leave secure in her love. Secure in her belief in him. “Thank you, Mama,” she whispered.

She was ready for Moses when he finally entered the room. His eyes glowed when he saw her waiting on the bed for him. Not taking his eyes from her, he undressed and lowered himself on the bed beside her.

Rose gazed into his dark eyes for a long moment. “I love you, Moses.” She kissed him as she whispered. “And I’m very proud of you.” She allowed her fingers to trace a pattern on his muscular back, moving gently over the whip scars he had gained in his early years of slavery.

“Oh, Rose,” he groaned. “I love you, too.” He kissed her then, his tenderness quickly changing to passion.

It was a long time before they rolled over to face each other. Moses held both of her hands while they talked.

“I’m coming home to you, Rose. This war is a horrible thing, but we’ve just started new. We still have a lot of living to do. I’m coming home.”

Rose nodded and put her finger to his lips. “I believe you, Moses. I know you have to do this thing. I’m proud of you. I believe you’re going to open up the way for many more black men to follow.” She paused. “One of the reasons I love you is because you’re a leader. I’m sorry I let my fears get the best of me. I guess I’ll always have to fight them.”

She paused again.

“I don’t want to lose you,” she whispered. “You hold all my heart, you know.”

Moses nodded. “And you hold all of mine”, he said gently, leaning forward to kiss her again.

Rose never wanted this night to end. She returned his kiss and pressed her body close to his. Once again, they were lost in the passion of their love. If there were no more, at least they would have this one last night.

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