American Dreams (21 page)

"I am certain they are safe," Eliza offered into the silence that greeted Temple's comment.

"They never should have let those—people—have their house. Uncle George built it himself. It belonged to him and Aunt Sarah." Temple's voice trembled with barely controlled anger. "That lottery ticket the man had meant nothing. Georgia has no right to give away land and buildings that don't belong to it."

"Unfortunately, there is nothing we can do to stop them." Will forked a generous portion of the sliced lamb onto Shawano Stuart's plate.

"All this talk about lottery and giving away tracts of land to some holder of a pasteboard ticket. I never thought it would come to pass." Nathan stared at the platters of food on the table, but made no effort to dish any of it onto his plate. "I never believed Georgia would have the gall to commit such outright thievery."

"Now that Jackson has been elected to a second term, Georgia will grow even bolder," The Blade warned.

"You cannot be sure of that," Eliza protested. "Look at the stand Jackson took against South Carolina. He dispatched a warship and several cutters to Charleston, and threatened to send troops after Carolina attempted to overrule federal law and claim its own sovereignty. If he feels that strongly—to the extent that he would risk civil war—then he will not allow Georgia to defy the law."

"Jackson will not intervene, you can be certain of that, Miss Hall," The Blade chided her with a dry cynicism. "He has a double standard where Indians are concerned. South Carolina is wrong, but Georgia is right. He told us as much last spring."

"I have heard that Jackson fears if he sides against Georgia as well, she will join South Carolina and secede from the Union," Nathan inserted. "Civil war would be a certainty in such an event."

"Jackson fears nothing," The Blade retorted. "William Wirt himself said that after Jackson's huge victory in the election, he could become president for life if he chose. The enemy is in power and our situation will only grow worse."
 

"We will survive," Will stated calmly.

"How?" The demand shot from The Blade. "What plan does Ross have?"

The tension became palpable. At the October council meeting, The Blade had joined with John Ridge and Elias Boudinot in advocating that a delegation be sent to Washington to negotiate a new treaty. Will and the vast majority had been upset by that plan. Emigration west was not an alternative in their eyes. But the split within the membership had occurred. No longer was the consensus unanimous.

"Now is not the time to discuss it," Will Gordon said sharply. "This is a day of peace. Let us observe it together."

"I agree," Shawano Stuart said, casting a reproachful look at his son, displeased with the dissension he had created.

 

When Phoebe entered the kitchen, she spied Shadrach at the sink, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows and his hands immersed in the water, scrubbing away at the pots and pans. She glanced surreptitiously over her shoulder to make sure her mammy wasn't in sight, then reached under her apron into the pocket of her dress and pulled out her kerchief, all folded in a small bundle to conceal its contents.

"Here. I brought this for you." She crossed to the sink and waited while her brother dried his wet hands on the front of his apron. "I know how much you like it."

When he took it from her and felt its contents, his eyes lit up. "Is it benne brittle?"

"Uh-huh." Phoebe watched as he carefully folded back the kerchief corners to reveal the thin chunks of hard candy inside. "Miss Temple made a big batch of it. I didn't think she'd miss this little bit." He snapped off a small piece of the brittle made with sesame seeds—or benne, as they called them—and popped it in his mouth. "Better not let Mammy hear you crunching on that," she cautioned. "She'll think you stole it from Miss Victoria."

"She didn't make any this year," he said, his left cheek bulging with the sweet.

"You better put that in your pocket just the same. If Mammy finds out, she'll start wailing about stealing and how much trouble you'll be in."

"She does it all the time." Shadrach buried the bundle in the bottom of his pocket. "You saw her today, taking a bite of everything. Just tasting, she calls it. She tasted the whole dinner."

"I know." Phoebe smiled, then studied her little brother, again amazed by how tall he'd grown. The last time she'd seen him, the top of his head had barely come to her shoulder. Now he could nearly look her in the eye. "You've shot up like a weed in a poke patch."

"You've been gone a long time. It hasn't been the same around here without you," he admitted self-consciously. "I can't talk to the others like I could talk to you. Mammy don't—"

"Doesn't," Phoebe inserted, correcting him the way Deu was always correcting her.

"—doesn
V show it much, but I know she misses you a powerful lot."

"I've missed you, too. All of you." Happy as she was with Deu and as much as she loved him, there were still times when she ached to be with her family. The longing was there in her brother's face as well.

Uncomfortable, he turned his head away. "Tell me what it was like when you went up North. Did you really see all those cities Deu said you did?"

"All of them and more. Lots of times, Master Blade, he'd give us a pass so we could go walking about when he and Miss Temple were going to be away from the hotel a spell. I saw the big white house where the president of the United States lives. Nearly all the time, there was a whole stream of people going in to visit him. Course, we couldn't go inside. And when we were in Philadelphia, Deu took me to see Independence Hall. He said that was where America was born. And he showed me the big bell they got hanging in the steeple. He told me there's writing on it that says 'Proclaim liberty throughout all the land unto all the inhabitants thereof.' That comes from the Bible, Deu said. And New York—" She paused to shake her head, rolling her gaze to the ceiling. "That was the noisiest place I ever did see. And so many people, too. Deu wanted to take me around, but I knew we'd get lost. I told him he could go, but I wasn't setting one foot outside that hotel for him nor nobody. Boston was nice, though. Course, everybody was happy there," Phoebe recalled thoughtfully, then cast a rueful glance at her brother. "But the winters up North get brutal cold. Why, sometimes it was so bad, the hairs in my nose froze. And one time the stagecoach driver had icicles hanging off his beard. And snow, lordy, this isn't anything. Lots of times I saw it belly-deep up there and a fella told us that he'd seen it pile higher than the top of a window, nearly reaching the roof. And winter just hung on forever, too. I was so hungry for home when that plantation come in sight, I started crying. It was all something to see, Shadrach, but I wouldn't
never
want to live there."

"Was there any black folks like us up there?"
 

"No slaves. They don't own slaves up North. But we did see some free colored men."
 

"Were they educated?"

"I don't know." Phoebe shrugged, then darted a conspiratorial glance at him. "Deu's been teaching me, though. Master Blade lets him take books from the library. We've read about some knight named Ivanhoe and a wise Greek man—Plato, I think his name was."

"I've been learning, too," Shadrach admitted sotto voce, a grin shining from his face. "Miz Eliza, she leaves books out for me, with the lessons all marked down. Sometimes she even leaves paper out for me and I write things for her and hide them under her pillow."

"She's doing that on the sly for you? That woman sure is filled with surprises." Phoebe shook her head in amazement.

"Yeah." He nodded. Then his expression flickered, like a shadow had fallen across it, and his smile faded, the line of his mouth becoming soberly drawn. "What do you think's going to happen to us, Phoebe?"

"What do you mean?" She frowned, puzzled by his question.

"All this trouble with the Georgians. What if one of them comes here and makes Master Will leave? I know Master George took his slaves with him when he left, but I heard him telling Master Will that he was gonna sell some so he could start him a new place in Tennessee. Maybe that'll happen to us."

"Maybe." But it was too frightening to think about.

Just then the door swung open and Black Cassie came bustling through. When she saw Phoebe and Shadrach standing together, she stopped. "Girl, what're you doin' standin' there? Ain't you got that hard sauce fixed yet fo' the suet puddin'?"

"I was just fixin' to do it," Phoebe lied.

"Humph." She snorted her disbelief. "The way you're movin', the snow'll be melted fo' you was through. I does it myself. You git yerself in there an' clear the dishes. And be quick about it. Miz Temple din't brings you over here t' stand around an' talk like you was white folk."

"Yes'm." Phoebe flashed a quick smile at Shadrach, then hurried from the kitchen.

 

From the window of the family parlor, Eliza gazed at the snow-covered landscape, so pristine and peaceful-looking, the crimson earth hidden beneath a smooth white blanket. The limbs of the trees were dipped in snow, and the cedars bowed under the weight of it. After the uneasy tension between Will Gordon and the Stuarts at the dinner table, Eliza welcomed the tranquillity of the scene before her.

"I had forgotten how beautiful a snowfall can be," she mused aloud to Nathan as he added another log to the fire.

She turned from the window and wandered over to the fireplace, absently noticing Nathan's absorption in the crackling flames. They were alone, just the two of them. Will Gordon was in the library across the hall, going over the plantation accounts. Victoria was upstairs, taking a short nap with little Johnny. With snowy roads to traverse, the Stuarts had left shortly after the meal was finished. At least, that was the reason they had given, although Eliza suspected the current discord between Will Gordon and The Blade played a large part in the Stuarts' early departure from Gordon Glen.

A sadness pulled at the corners of her mouth, a sadness over everything. She tried not to think about how empty the school would be without the four Murphy children. Yet she couldn't entirely rid her mind of its melancholy thoughts.

"Here we are, standing in front of this cheery fire, our stomachs full from all that delicious food. But I can't help wondering about your two missionary friends still locked in their cells on Christmas. You must be thinking about them too," she said, guessing at the cause for his pensive silence. "How were Mr. Worcester and Dr. Butler when you visited them in prison last week?"

Nathan hesitated, as if searching for a reply that would avoid a direct answer.

"Is something wrong?" Eliza frowned. "Tell me."

"Nothing is wrong," he assured her, then hesitated again. "It's just that.. . they were both very troubled when I saw them. As you know, the attorney Wirt has brought another suit before the Supreme Court to force Georgia to obey its earlier mandate and release them."

"Yes, I know."

"The governor of Georgia has suggested a compromise. If they will drop the suit, he will pardon them."

"But they were wrongly imprisoned," Eliza protested. "Surely they cannot seriously consider this proposal. If they accept a pardon, think how it will look. The Cherokees will believe they have given up."

"Some may take that view," Nathan admitted. "But their incarceration has served its purpose. They won their case in court. If they persist, Georgia may align with the nullifiers, like South Carolina. The threat of a civil war has not completely been averted. This could precipitate one. They are missionaries, Eliza. The guilt they would feel if such a conflict should occur as a result of their actions ... I don't think they could live with that on their conscience."

"I suppose not," she conceded.

"And it is a true compromise. Georgia is not demanding that they swear allegiance, only that they cease any further legal action against the state."

"What are they going to do?" Either way, Eliza could feel the weight of the potential repercussions.

"They haven't decided. They have written to Boston to see what the board of commissioners recommends. There hasn't been time to receive a reply yet."

"It takes two weeks for my mother's letters to reach me," she recalled idly.

In a sudden burst of obvious agitation, Nathan swung away from the blazing fire. "I shouldn't have discussed this with you." Then he turned a sharply reproving look on her. "You shouldn't concern yourself with such matters."

She had sat in on too many political conversations during the last two years to feel bound by convention, or to accept the foolish belief that, as a woman, she wasn't intelligent enough to understand the issues involved. But Nathan was already upset. Rather than add to his turmoil, Eliza chose to humor him instead. "But if you didn't talk to me about them, who would you confide in?"

His tension melted faster than the snow outside. A look of contrition and regret flashed over his long, thin face. "This is not the way I wanted us to spend our time together today."

"I know. I would suggest playing some duets on the piano, but with Victoria upstairs sleeping and Mr. Gordon working on his ledgers, it would be impolite. Shall we go for a walk?"

"No. Please, let's sit here by the fire." He motioned to the sofa that faced the fireplace.

"All right," she agreed readily and seated herself on one side of the sofa, angling her body toward him as he settled onto the opposite end. He seemed nervous, and she blamed it on their near disagreement of a moment ago.

"It occurred to me the other day that we have known each other more than two years now," he said with a forced casualness.

Eliza smiled, trying to put him at ease. "Sometimes it seems longer than that."

"For me, too." He brightened at her response, then faltered. "I think it would be fair to say we have gotten to know each other quite well."

"I agree." She had the impression she was being prepared for something. She wondered if he had been recalled and had come to tell her good-bye. "We have become friends."