Chapter Eleven
Carrie breathed a deep sigh of relief when the Cromwells rode away from Blackwell Plantation. It was just ten o’clock in the morning, but she felt like this day had already lasted forever. Thank heavens for the wonderful memory of spending time with Robert down by the river, but she had surely been paying for it ever since.
When Carrie had returned, flushed and disheveled, to her room, Louisa had said not a word. Her pointed silence and withering looks needed no words to impart their message. Sally and Natalie’s looks had been kinder, but they hadn’t spoken either. They seemed to be too shocked. Carrie had wanted to laugh and explain what an innocent rendezvous it really was, but she grew angry, and her anger made her match their silence with her own. If they were all so eager to jump to such erroneous conclusions, then let them. She said not a word as she changed into a more suitable dress. She didn’t even ask for help with her hair. Instead, she deftly braided and secured it into a bun every bit as good as one Rose could have done. Well! At least I’ve proven I can do this.
The silent treatment continued as she descended downstairs for breakfast. Had the whole world been watching when she emerged from the woods with Robert Borden? Did the whole world jump to horrible conclusions when they saw something they didn’t understand? What was so terrible? All they had done was sit by the river and talk. Nothing improper had happened. What big difference did it make anyway if they weren’t properly chaperoned? Carrie grew angry as her indignation grew.
She had seen Robert’s carriage leave before she finished preparing for breakfast. Part of her was angry she had to face all this scathing disapproval alone, but another part was very glad he had escaped the ridiculous humiliation they had done nothing to deserve. Only her father seemed still in possession of some common sense. He had arrived downstairs and given her the same loving smile as always. He had even walked over to lay a supportive arm around her shoulder. Her mother’s suffering silence, however, said all it needed to.
Wasn’t anyone even going to ask what had happened? Carrie was learning firsthand how many people care so little for the truth when the results of their imagination feed their thirst for scandal. Her desire to lash out in fury was intermingled with a need to laugh hysterically. The whole situation was so ridiculous.
Just then, she spied Louisa in the far corner, her head bent low in serious conversation with Mrs. Waterton, a neighbor who lived a few miles north. Carrie barely knew the woman, though she well knew her reputation for being a ruthless gossip. Mrs. Waterton looked up with a grim smile and locked her eyes on Carrie. The older lady observed her coolly for a few moments before she looked away haughtily. So that was it! This was Louisa’s revenge for not being chosen queen—for being thwarted in her attempt to add Robert to her list of suitors.
Carrie had seen enough. She rose slowly from the table, raised her head high, and sailed from the room. Let these people say and think what they wanted. She, Carrie Cromwell, had done nothing to be ashamed of. Out of deference to her mother, she was not going to make a scene, but she most certainly was not going to continue to sit there like a lamb being led to slaughter.
Once upstairs, she dashed into Louisa’s room, ripped off her traveling dress, and put back on the dress she had worn that morning. Back downstairs, she stopped only long enough to whisper something to her father, and then she escaped from the curious stares and whispers. She felt herself coming back under control as she took deep breaths of the fresh morning air. By the time she got to the stables, she could once again see the humor in the situation. Let them talk! In another few days someone else would do something not fitting with proper plantation protocol and remove the attention from her. Gossip always had to have fresh meat on which to feed. Wagging tongues quickly tired of old news.
Carrie was once more enjoying the day when she led Granite, fully tacked, from the barn. She was proud of the fact that she had declined all help from Charles. He had been mortified, sure he would be punished for letting her do it herself. “Oh, poo, Charles,” she had scoffed. “I made Miles teach me how to do it years ago. I’m just not in the mood to play the southern lady today. I need to do this.” He had stepped aside with what looked like a glimmer of appreciation in his eyes and watched quietly.
Thomas Cromwell was standing on the front porch of the plantation mansion when Carrie trotted smoothly up the driveway. He tried to suppress a smile but said nothing until she had pulled Granite to a halt. They both completely ignored the stares of the others on the porch.
“Good morning, Father.”
“Good morning, Daughter.” He made no attempt to hide the laughter in his eyes.
Carrie leaned forward slightly. “I’ll explain later.”
“That’s good enough for me.”
Carrie’s heart surged with love for her father. He knew that whatever had happened this morning must be quite innocent. “I’m not riding home in the carriage,” she said.
“I assumed as much.”
“I don’t think it would be a very good idea. Mother seems to be feeding at the gossip table.”
Thomas frowned. “She loves you, Carrie.”
“Yes, and I love her. But I have no intention of bearing her silent disapproval all the way home.” She knew her father hated being put between the two women he loved so much.
“You could always explain it to her.”
Carrie tossed her head. “I will, but not now. She could have asked me this morning before she decided her wayward daughter had done something scandalous.” She softened. “I just need to be on Granite today, Father. I truly don’t want to upset Mother.”
Thomas nodded. “As long as you talk to her later. Your mother will be okay. I’ll talk to her.” He reached into his pocket for his watch and examined it. “Charles will be here soon. I plan on leaving in twenty minutes, which means you need to go in and say goodbye to the Blackwells.” He smiled at her mutinous look. “It won’t make you feel any better to lower yourself to their standards. It takes great courage to continue being a lady in the face of gossip and misunderstanding. Go in there and show them you’re the better person.”
Carrie stared at him for a long moment, drawing on the strength she saw in his eyes. Her lips tightened, but she dismounted and handed the reins to a nearby servant. She glided up the stairs and gave her father a hug. “Thanks. I’ll make you proud of me.”
Thomas put his hand under her chin and tilted her eyes to meet his own. “I’m always proud of you, Carrie.” He gave her a gentle shove. “Go make yourself proud.”
Carrie forced a smile to her lips as she went in and told her host and his wife goodbye. “It’s been quite lovely. Thank you so much for a wonderful time. I do hope I see you again soon.” Alfred and Lucy Blackwell were both gracious. Carrie felt a flash of triumph when she saw the look of begrudging admiration in Lucy Blackwell’s eyes. Her father had been right. The only way to meet gossip was head on. “Where is Louisa? I’d like to tell her goodbye.”
Louisa’s father shook his head slightly. “She left the house a few minutes ago. I have no idea where she went.”
Lucy Blackwell turned to her husband and protested, “Why, I never saw her leave the house. I’ve been standing right here.”
Her husband fixed his wife with a stern look. “I saw her leave, I tell you.” She merely stared at him. He looked back at Carrie with a smile. “I’ll tell her you asked after her. I would hate for you to be late leaving.”
Carrie smiled back at him. She knew what he was doing. Louisa’s poison tongue was no secret to her father. “Thank you, Mr. Blackwell. Please do tell her I had a lovely time.” She sailed out of the house and down the stairs to where Granite was waiting. Facing up to it had made her feel much better. She could do nothing to stop the gossiping tongues of her neighbors, but she could indeed show herself she was above them. Her heart was light as she led Granite to the mounting block and sprung easily into the saddle.
On the way home, Carrie rode Granite at a steady trot slightly behind the carriage. From her position, she could see her father’s bent head as he talked to his wife. Carrie knew he was trying to ease the way for her. Her poor father. He must grow tired of the tension between his wife and daughter.
The sun was barely above the horizon when Eulalia, dozing in the next room, heard Ike moving around. Knowing a pounding headache was sure to add to his meanness this morning, she wished he had slept later—at least long enough to get the kids out of the house. She imagined him cradling his head in his hands as he tried to remember how he had gotten home last night.
As he groaned and staggered to his feet, Eulalia jumped up from her bed and eased into the kitchen. Her presence would make her, not the children, the target for Ike’s anger.
He turned to her, growling. “Where you been, woman? Where is my breakfast?”
“Your breakfast will be ready in a few minutes, Ike.” She dashed to the fireplace and stirred the coals until she had a small blaze going. She longed to have a wood cook stove like some of her other friends, but as long as Ike spent most of his wages on alcohol, it would remain a dream. She poured water from the pitcher into the black kettle and hung it over the flames. Coffee would help her husband.
She turned from the fire, cut a few slabs of bacon, and sliced several thick pieces of bread. Eating would give him another channel for his anger. At least she wasn’t afraid now. He woke up from his binges mad but not dangerous, and the scars from his verbal tirades could not be seen by her children.
Ike cursed under his breath and headed into the bedroom. She heard water splashing as he performed his inadequate wash-up. Water was dripping from his hair as he lurched out of the bedroom a few minutes later, still clad in the same clothes he had worn all weekend.
Cromwell would not be pleased. He set high standards for everyone, including his overseer. Keeping her voice light, she said, “I got you some clean clothes on the line. I’ll bring them right in.” She held her breath.
Ike’s lips tightened in fury, but the cold water splashed on his face had cleared his brain a little more. He looked down at his disheveled clothing. “Well, hurry up, woman. You’d think God could have given me a wife who cared a little more about her man. I work hard six days a week for you. The least you could do is have clothes ready when I need them.”
Eulalia pressed her lips closed. She had deliberately not told him there was a clean set hanging on the wardrobe. He would only have thought she was belittling him for not seeing them. She poured a cup of hot coffee for him and hurried outside to get the clothes.
Ike gobbled down his food, slurped his coffee, changed his clothes, and grunted before moving slowly out the door. Minutes later she heard him riding down the road. She had no use for niggers any more than her husband did, but she felt a small twinge of sympathy. Ike had had a mean look in his eyes when he rode off.
She knew that anger would erupt on someone today. She only hoped it was gone before he got home.
Eager to be home and to see Rose, Carrie urged Granite into a gallop as soon as they entered the long road leading to Cromwell Plantation. Her mother was sure to be having a fit over yet another exhibition of her daughter’s wild impulsiveness. She released Granite to Miles and ran into the house. “Hello, Sam,” Carrie called gaily.
“Welcome home, Miss Carrie.”
Carrie acknowledged his greeting with a wave of her hand and bounded up the stairs. Just as she hoped, Rose was waiting in the room. “Rose! I missed you.”
Rose smiled. “I missed you, too, Miss Carrie.”
“Oh, Rose! It was glorious! Mr. Borden and Granite won the tournament.” Excitedly, she spilled out the details. Rose moved forward to help her remove her dress. Carrie waved her away. “That can wait. I could hardly wait to get home and tell you about my time.” Her face radiated as she told Rose of the ball. How Robert had chosen her for the queen. How angry Louisa had been. How much fun she’d had dancing. She told Rose everything, just like she always had.
Rose sat quietly.
Carrie finally grew silent. She leaned forward and looked into her friend’s face. “You’re so quiet, Rose. Is something wrong?”
Rose shook her head and gave a small smile. “No, Miss Carrie. I’m fine. I was just listening to your story. It sounds like you had a wonderful time. I’m glad.”
Carrie continued to gaze into the other girl’s eyes. They had been friends for too long. She could read Rose’s face too well. There was something...
Rose changed the subject. “Sadie is sick again. She’s down with a high fever.”
Carrie forgot everything when she heard that news. “Since when?” she asked.
“She came in from the fields after a few hours this morning. Mama sent one of the children up from the quarters to tell me.”
“I told her to stay out of the fields for a few days until she was well,” Carrie said sternly, silently berating herself for not talking to Sadie when she saw her in the fields on Friday. Robert Borden and all the excitement had driven it from her mind.
Carrie looked down at her dress. “I don’t need to change. This dress will do fine to wear down to the quarters. I’ll check on Sadie and come back for Mama if I need her. “
“Would you like me to come with you?”
Carrie thought for a moment. “Yes, I would. You can unpack my trunk later. It’s not going anywhere.”
Carrie was quiet as she walked quickly down the trail to the quarters. Her mind worked furiously. Why had Sadie gone back to the fields? Why was her fever so high again? Carrie liked Sadie, with her quick, gentle smile and the way her eyes lit up when she was happy. She suddenly realized she hadn’t seen that happen much lately. What was going on? Cromwell slaves had always seemed happy. As she walked, she saw now what she had been too blind to see before. The whole spirit in the quarters had changed. A heaviness seemed to hang over everything. Is that what was bothering Rose? But they were best friends. Why wouldn’t Rose tell her? Carrie frowned and increased her speed. She intended to find out what was going on. The slaves trusted her, and surely Sadie would confide in her.
Carrie came to a stop in front of the cabin Sadie shared with several other women. Sadie’s husband, Willie, had died from a strange disease a few years before. Carrie’s mother had fought to save him, but nothing she did worked. Sadie had lived here ever since. Carrie had been coming down to these cabins almost every day for as long as she could remember. Why now did they seem dark and oppressive? She had never thought anything of them before. Why now did she shudder at the thought of living under these conditions herself? Her father’s argument rose in her mind. It is our destiny to be masters over the slaves. It is their destiny to be slaves. It is our responsibility to take care of them, because they can’t take care of themselves. Carrie frowned. The argument sounded weak to her. She shook her head and pushed open the cabin door. She would have to think about it later.
The sight of Sadie shivering on the hard bed sent Carrie rushing to her side. “Sadie!”
“I be fine, Miss Carrie,” she whispered. “I just have me a little fever. It be gone in a little bit.”
Carrie laid her hand on the older woman’s head. “You’re burning up, Sadie. How long has it been like this?”
Sadie shrugged her thin shoulders. “Just this morning, Miss Carrie. It ain’t nothing.”
Carrie pressed her lips together. “I’ll be the judge of that.” She turned to Rose. “Go get a bucket of water from the well,” she ordered. “I also need a pile of rags. We’ve got to get this fever down.” As Rose turned to leave, Carrie called an additional order over her shoulder. “And bring Mama’s bag from the house. I may need something in it.”
“Do you want me to have your mama come down here?” Rose asked.
Carrie thought for a moment and then shook her head. “I can handle this.” The truth was that she wanted to get to the bottom of what was really going on. She knew Sadie wouldn’t talk if her mother were there.
Carrie turned back to Sadie as Rose disappeared. “This fever has to be coming from somewhere.”
Sadie shrugged and turned her eyes away. Sweat beaded on her forehead and her shivering intensified. Carrie looked around the cabin and grabbed several additional thin blankets. She looked with distaste at the barren dirt floor. How awful to be sick in conditions like these. Carefully, she tucked the blankets around the woman’s bony shoulders and watched as Sadie’s shivering gradually subsided to an occasional shudder.
Carrie looked up as Rose entered the door. “Put the bucket here and give me the rags.” She dipped the cloth into the cold water, wrung it out, and laid the compress on Sadie’s hot forehead. In less than a minute, it too was hot. Carrie quickly replaced it with another. She had no idea how long she sat there changing compresses before the fever began to subside. Sadie’s eyes cleared a little, and she smiled gratefully.
“Thank you, Miss Carrie. I be feeling a mite better.”
Carrie nodded and continued her ministrations. “We need to talk, Sadie. You need to help me figure out where this fever is coming from. It’s not like a regular fever. Yours goes away but comes right back.”
Sadie shrugged her shoulders again and looked away.
Carrie persisted, alarmed at the fear she saw lurking in the woman’s eyes. “You’ve got to tell me, Sadie. I can’t make you better if I don’t know what’s going on.” She kept her voice kind but firm.
Sadie turned toward Rose with a silent question in her eyes.
Carrie turned to look at Rose, her alarm increasing as she saw the hesitation on Sadie’s face. “I can’t help if I don’t know.”
Rose locked eyes with Carrie for a long moment before looking back to where Sadie lay on the bed. She nodded. “Tell her, Sadie.”
Sadie lay quietly for several moments. Then she pulled back the covers and struggled to sit up.
“You shouldn’t be moving, Sadie.” Carrie leaned forward to stop her.
“You want to know where the fever be coming from, Miss Carrie?”
“Of course I do.” Carrie was confused.
“Then I be needing to sit up.”
Carrie remained where she was, watching as Sadie reached down and pulled off her shoe with a slight grimace. She raised her leg to lay her foot across her knee where Carrie could see the bottom of it.
Carrie gasped at the sight of the ugly, infected gash across the bottom of the woman’s foot. “No wonder you’re so sick! How in the world have you been wearing your shoes?” The foot was swollen to almost twice its normal size, and Carrie could see the swelling was extending up into the ankle. “Why didn’t you tell me about this before?” Sadie averted her eyes once more, but not before Carrie saw the stark fear glimmering in their depths. “Sadie! How did this happen?” she asked sharply. Silence stretched into the shadows of the cabin. “I’m not leaving until you tell me.”
“Go ahead and tell her, Sadie,” Rose encouraged.
Carrie took deep breaths to remain calm, a sick feeling in her stomach telling her that whatever Sadie had to say was going to be bad.
Sadie kept her eyes on the floor as she began to speak slowly. “Mr. Adams... He... He...” Sadie shuddered as she tried to force out the words.
“Mr. Adams did this to you?” Carrie asked.
Sadie suddenly found strength from somewhere. She raised her eyes to meet Carrie’s. “Yes, Miss Carrie. He cut me.”
“He cut your foot?” Carrie demanded. “Why?” She could feel the blood pounding in her head.
“I weren’t working fast enough in the fields. He wanted me to work faster. He said this would make me remember. He tell me dat if I miss a day of work in the fields, he’d cut the other one.” Sadie’s eyes filled with tears that she blinked quickly away.
Carrie felt sick to her stomach. How had this happened? Her father had always demanded his slaves be treated well. “Are other things like this happening?” The silence filling the cabin spoke louder than words. Carrie’s horror mixed with a steadily building anger. She laid her hand on Sadie’s shoulder and struggled to control her voice. “Sadie, I’m sorry. I will tell my father immediately. He will make sure this never happens again.” She couldn’t miss the terror filling Sadie’s eyes. “My father will take care of it,” she insisted.
“That might not do any good, Miss Carrie.”
Carrie turned to Rose in astonishment. “Why not?”
Rose shrugged. “Mr. Adams is a bad one. The hate is growing in him every day. If your father talks to him, it may make it worse.”
“Not talking to him is not going to do any good, either.” Carrie was sure her father could fix the problem. She caught the deep look of concern the two black women exchanged but knew she had to do something. She couldn’t pretend ignorance now that she had the truth.
“The thing now is to get this foot fixed,” she said, thankful for something to do. ”We need plenty of hot water. Rose, give me some of the white powder out of the bag. Mama says it draws infection out. And start a fire so we can boil plenty of water.” Carrie pushed down her anger and revulsion as she turned her attention to Sadie. Conversation ceased as she worked.
Rose was deep in thought when she entered the house a short while later. She had just enough time to unpack Carrie’s trunk before she would be needed to help with dinner. Her mind spun furiously as she tried to imagine the results of Carrie’s talk with her father. Had she been wrong to encourage Sadie to tell Carrie the truth? Would it result in more trouble?
“We got more comp’ny.” Sam’s voice broke into her troubled thoughts.
“I didn’t know anyone else was expected.”
Sam shrugged. “I don’t do no expecting. I just do what I be told.”
Rose hid her smile. She knew Sam’s compliance was all an act. He helped her get away with a lot of things. A desire for freedom burned deep in his heart, and he dreamed of the day he could escape and be free from the plantation. “Who is it?”
“Somebody just passing through. Had hisself a letter of introduction from some fella Marse Cromwell knows in Richmond.”
Rose nodded and turned to walk up the stairs. Then she stopped and turned back, nudged by a feeling she didn’t understand. “What’s his name, Sam?”
“Mr. Jamison.”
Rose stared at him wide-eyed, suddenly speechless.
“Why you be staring at me like that, girl?”
Rose caught herself. It would never do to make anyone suspicious—especially Sam, who was so protective of her. He covered for her with the school, but this… This was a different matter. She forced herself to shrug casually. “It’s nothing, Sam. I just remembered something Miss Carrie asked me to do. I can’t believe I almost forgot.” She didn’t miss Sam’s disbelieving stare. “I’ve got to go, Sam. Thank you for letting me know there is company here.” She turned and escaped up the stairs, knowing Sam’s eyes were boring into her back.
Within the confines of Carrie’s room, Rose collapsed on the dressing table chair. Mr. Jamison! Here. Today. They had just gotten the note last night. She had never expected him to show up today. She wasn’t ready for him. How was she to communicate with him? Her mind raced frantically as she tried to take in the fact that the conductor from the Underground Railroad was actually at Cromwell Plantation. She took deep breaths and tried to think calmly. After sitting quietly for several minutes, she rose and swiftly unpacked Carrie’s trunk. Just as she expected, she found paper and a writing pen. She sat down at the dressing table and began to write.
Moses started his work in the fields that morning. So far, it was no different from anything he had known before. In fact, working in the fertile fields was almost pleasant. The ground on the plantation he had come from had been overworked, and the plants it produced were yellow and sickly. The overseer said the slaves were to blame. The lash had flown freely, but still the plants came up with little to show for their existence. It was the reason the plantation had failed and been sold. This ground was different—the soil dark and rich, with a sweet odor. The tobacco plants springing from the earth were green and healthy. He would have to ask someone why. He dreamed of owning his own farm someday.
“Quit your daydreaming, boy!”
Moses looked up to see who Adams was yelling at. He had not ceased in his efforts with the hoe. His powerful shoulders kept up the rhythmic swinging easily. He was surprised to see Adams looming over him on his bay mare. He said nothing, just turned back to his work. He had been angry ever since Sadie was removed from the fields. The sun beating down had done nothing to improve his temper.
“I’m talking to you, boy!”
Moses stared at the ground, wondering what he should do. Miss Sarah had told him to be careful. But how was he supposed to avoid this trouble? One look into Ike Adams’ wild, red-rimmed eyes had told him he was dealing with a man just like his brother. Moses looked up slowly. “Yessuh?”
Adams grinned, obviously relishing his power. “Ain’t you used to working where you come from, nigger?”
Moses took a deep breath. “Yessuh.” He knew the look of a man who was in need of giving a beating. Men like Adams thrived on the feeling of power their position gave them. Adams had for too long experienced the kind of hatred that blotted out all reasonable thought. It was demanding an outlet. Moses sighed. He had hoped Cromwell Plantation was going to be different.
“It sure don’t look that way, boy,” Adams sneered. “I think you need a lesson to teach you how Cromwell niggers work. You didn’t learn it too good where you came from.”