The Sun Rises (Southern Legacy Book 4) (5 page)

“Rosa, send for Dr. Andrew.”

* * * *

Josephine found her cousin in the nursery, rocking Peggy’s youngest. No more than a few weeks old, the baby slept soundly in the afternoon’s repose. Grace Ann glanced over at Jo, and then returned her gaze to the sleeping child.

“Dearest, whatever have you gone and done to cause Mr. Whitney’s terrible mood?”

“I fear I have unintentionally offended him,” Jo said, overcome with an overwhelming sadness. A silent tear streamed down her cheek.

“You will apologize, won’t you? I know he has been a brute as of late, but it is quite understandable. Such a tragedy. I worry so about him.”

“And I worry about you.”

“There is no need,” Grace Ann assured her in a soft voice, as if not to wake the baby.

Staring at Grace Ann, memories assaulted Jo, old ones…good and bad. Pushing back the emotions that threatened to overpower her, she leaned down and kissed her cousin’s cheek. Grace Ann reached up and squeezed her hand.

Jo eased out of the room, descended the stairs and out of the house. Hurrying down the steps into the waiting carriage, she reached over and took her daughter from Rosa. Across from her, Andrew sat with the little boy lying across his lap.

“You said your good-byes?” Andrew asked.

Nodding, Jo could find no words. She wanted only to get back to Magnolia Bluff as quickly as possible. She would not be returning.

Josephine walked onto the porch of the old cabin and paused before she entered. The sun waned, giving way to a still darkness. Lantern light shone under the crack of the door and smoke climbed the chimney. Miss Hazel had kept her word. She had come.

Not bothering to knock, she eased open the door. A slight smile formed on her lips at the sight before her—the small scared boy snuggled into the crouch of the old black woman’s arms in the creaky rocking chair. Her dry, wrinkled hand caressed the small face.

His faint smile whisked her back to the day she had first seen Tome on the Whitneys’ lawn, an innocent young boy loyally waiting by his friend until her mother came for her. She wondered whether his innocence was lost forever.

“Come in, child. Don’t dawdle.”

“You are quite right. We don’t have much time.” Jo shut the door behind her. “Andrew is giving Mr. Syms a tour of the grounds as we speak. We tried to hold him back until morning, but he wouldn’t hear of it.”

The Montgomerys’ offer to pay for the boy had been refused. Instead, Mr. Whitney had sent his overseer to Magnolia Bluff to ensure the boy’s return.

“Now, now, donca worry none. Ain’t gonna let anything happen to this youngin’.”

“We won’t have a say if Syms finds him.” Jo sighed. “Amos drove me over in the buckboard with Rosa. I don’t know the exact details, but Andrew says he has made the necessary arrangements to get Tome down to Beaufort.”

“When?”

“Immediately.” Jo fumbled in her cloak pocket and felt to make sure the small envelope she brought was secure. She hadn’t thought it would be this hard. Though unrelated by blood or color, the realization how much she relied on this woman swept through her. She swallowed hard. “Miss Hazel, I fear I have a request of you.”

“Law, child, just ask. I ain’t gonna refuse to help this young man.”

“It’s more than help, Miss Hazel.” Jo drew up a chair from the dining table and sat. “I want you to take Tome north. Raise him yourself.”

“Leave?” Miss Hazel’s eyebrows rose in question. “This is my home.”

“Oh, Miss Hazel, just do as I ask,” Jo said in a much harsher tone than she intended. The last days had worn on her frayed nerves.

Tired. Exhausted. Her mind fought against her heart. Her Southern upbringing had taught her not to question what tradition had handed down. For years, she had accepted the peculiar institution, that in time the South itself would do away with it. Until then, she had believed that the blacks were in much better hands under their guidance. Now, everything had become confused.

“Now, Miss Jo, I’ll take the boy to Beaufort for ya, but I’m sixty-two. I can’t raise the boy and I ain’t leavin’ my farm.” Miss Hazel looked sharply at Jo. “Already got runaways in the marshes waiting for me to abandon my cabin. Whatca think will happen? Won’t have a home to come back to…”

Jo stood and slammed her fist on the table. “You don’t have a choice!” Her voice trailed off and she stood in silence. Miss Hazel’s eagle eyes met hers, which Jo had no doubt conveyed her fear.

With her emotions toiling, Jo walked over to the fire in silence. Taking a deep breath, she turned back to her mammy. “You have to go. I saw the devastation of a festered hatred. In turn, the revenge inflicted. Those men are here at Magnolia Bluff.”

Jo gestured her frustration and waved her hands in front of her. Finally, she fell back into the chair and took her head in her hands. Endless moments passed, and then she looked up imploringly at the confused Miss Hazel.

“The loyalty and love for my home has not diminished, but it riles my temper not to be able to question an atrocity…as if doing so implies I’m betraying God, country, and family. But none of their threats will make me turn the boy back over to Mr. Whitney.”

“Oh, Miss Jo, I knows your heart, but ya will make it worse for yourself. Ya and I know what Mr. Whitney is to ya. What if he…?”

“I have no control over his actions,” Jo interrupted. “Only my own. He will do as he must, as I will do what I must.” For a moment, time stood still. “That day when they were chasing Tome in the woods…when I took his hand, I looked in his eyes, I saw Gillie. I knew then what I had to do…what I couldn’t do for her.”

In all the years she had known Miss Hazel, Jo had never seen her cry. Her mammy had always been a pillar of strength. Today, tears welled in the old woman’s eyes.

Sighing heavily, Jo regained a semblance of her composure. “There’s more. Buck is back. Andrew assures me that Buck would not be foolish enough to retaliate at me directly. I myself doubt that Buck would have the backbone to try it by himself, but not to lash out to hurt me in any manner he had at his disposal—you.”

For a moment, Miss Hazel paused before she answered. “I will go.”

Relief mingled with sadness gripped Jo’s heart, but she couldn’t afford the luxury of being overcome with emotions. She took the envelope out of her pocket and moved over to her mammy.

“Amos is waiting to drive you down to Beaufort. He will stay to make sure that you make the necessary contacts for you to gain passage to Philadelphia.” She squeezed the envelope into Miss Hazel’s hand. “This will help. May God go with you.”

Miss Hazel lowered her gaze at the young boy. “Now, Tome, tell Miss Jo thank ya for her kindness.”

“Thank ya, ma’am,” Tome said, trying to be all proper.

Jo stepped back and allowed the two to leave the cabin. She heard Amos greet Tome. Shortly after, the buckboard creaked and Amos snapped the reins to their old mule, Gus. She sat in the stillness until Rosa informed her that Andrew had come to escort them back to Magnolia Bluff.

* * * *

A slight sea breeze whisked through, rustling the budding trees of the low-country forest. Birds sang; wildflowers bloomed. Ignorant of the widespread conflict of the region, nature awoke from the dormant sleep of winter.

A festoon of Spanish moss swung in a slow rhythm, hanging from the water oaks. Heyward walked along the overgrown path down along the shoreline. Beaufort had become a safe haven for runaway slaves since the Union occupation.

North of the town, a refugee camp had been established for the contraband slaves. The area was overcrowded with crudely built shanties and tents that had been quickly erected for the influx of needy. He searched for his mother in the chaos.

The tall black man trudged into the newfound community. Each step taken added to his frustration. These camps had become notorious for their lack of decent housing and food. Paying work was scarce and most of the inhabitants had no education.

“The information I obtained said she was down by the church.” Lieutenant McFadden pointed to a small whitewashed building. “From what I understand, she has begun teaching reading at the missionary school.”

As he turned the corner at the dirt road, his anxiety eased and affection warmed his heart. He caught sight of his mother, sitting outside of one of the hastily built shelters. A flock of children surrounded her as she held a book in her hand.

His anger had been vexed by the information Lieutenant McFadden had relayed only hours before—his mother had been a refugee for well over a month—information Captain Claiborne had seen fit to withhold from him.

Hell, if not for McFadden, he still wouldn’t have known. He had enough of that damn arrogant captain and found him no better than any plantation owner he had ever known: barking orders at him, calling him nigger… Where was the respect that was supposed to come with freedom?

Over the last few weeks, he had come in and out of Beaufort at least three times. Claiborne made no mention of his mother, though Heyward knew well Claiborne had the information.

Heyward’s days had been hectic. The network was floundering for the same reason this camp was overcrowded. The Underground Railway, in turn the foundation of their network, had been founded with brave souls willing to place their lives in peril to help others in need.

The fact that had been overlooked until lately: most of those souls in the Deep South were slaves themselves…slaves who now were able to escape. With President Lincoln’s proclamation freeing slaves, hope was instilled into their lives for those who yearned for that freedom.

All through South Carolina, paranoia ruled the land. Men looked suspiciously over their shoulders at any stranger. Moreover, bandits, deserters, and runaway slaves littered the woods, waiting to take advantage of any lone traveler.

Heyward feared the network had worn out its usefulness and had become too dangerous to maintain. Mitchell had yet convinced Captain Claiborne of that fact.

His last trip into Beaufort, Heyward had been fired at by an unknown assailant in the woods. The bullet whizzed by his head. Walking barefoot with nothing but the clothes on his back, Heyward assumed that the thieves quickly surmised he was a worthless target and allowed him to move on without another attack.

“Heyward! My boy!”

His pace quickened and he walked briskly to his mother’s side. Despite her height and frame, he picked her up and whirled her around. Her welcome laughter echoed in his ears as her arms wrapped around his neck.

As they slowly came to a stop, she clapped Heyward’s cheeks. Her plump face lit up, smiling into his eyes. She repeated, “My boy! My boy!”

“Ma,” Heyward began. “I would have come sooner, but I knew nothin’ ’bout ya being here. No one told me. What happened? The last we talked, ya swore ya would never leave Magnolia Bluff.”

“So much…so much,” she began, but was abruptly cut off by a pull on her skirt.

Heyward looked down at the small boy vying for Miss Hazel’s attention. Thin with the largest brown eyes, he was light-skinned, even for a mulatto. If not for his thick, tight curled hair, he could have passed for a white child. He wore ragged clothes and no shoes, but a large smile was plastered on his face.

Something about the eyes mesmerized him for a split second.
Lord Almighty!
For a moment, he swore it was as if Gillie looked back at him. Then it passed. Heyward shook his head in quick dismissal. Then the child spoke.

“Grammy Hazel…Grammy Hazel, is this my new pa?”

Heyward shot a shocked look over at his mother, who broke out into a long laughter. He watched his mother take the boy by the shoulders and face him.

“Yes, Tome, this is who we have been waiting for…my son, Heyward.”

At a loss as to what to say, Heyward pointed his finger at the boy and then halted. As he stood in the middle of the hastily built shelter, angry confusion washed over him.

There was only one room. On either side of the single fireplace, an area served as makeshift sleeping spaces. Furnishings were meager, with only a crudely built table with hand-crafted benches as seats. A lantern sat in the middle of the table and served as its only means of light during the night.

“It was time, Heyward. Simple as that.”

He had listened to his mother talk with only half of his attention. He had heard enough when she said Miss Jo sent her away. His repressed ire at the name of that woman surfaced. He said nothing for a long moment. Finally, he spoke. “I have been trying to getca out of there for months. Said it was too dangerous and you won’t act until Miss Jo tells you to go.”

“I told ya, son. The boy had to disappear.”

Heyward wasn’t a fool. He knew his mother. She had fought him on leaving her farm with every fiber of her being. Her home meant too much to her…it was hers. Not many black women in South Carolina could claim that honor.

Moreover, he didn’t know a smarter, braver woman. She had manipulated and maneuvered anything and everything to be close to him when he was a slave. She had long maintained her farm, but that had been with the Montgomery blessing. With Wade Montgomery’s death, the protection their name gave her weakened.

To be honest, he hadn’t worried about her until lately. Most times, she was up at the main house with Miss Jo. Recently, though, his feelings had changed. The war hadn’t gone the way the Rebs had planned. He feared the land would break out in chaos and give little thought to taking out their frustration on an old black woman living alone.

“I ain’t saying he didn’t haf to, Ma. I just don’t understand what ya are doing here with him.”

Her large, shrewd eyes looked over at the boy, who sat quietly on the lap of Lieutenant McFadden. “I tole ya, Heyward. It is time…time to be a family. Tome needs a pa. Ain’t never had one. He wasn’t claimed by no one at the Whitneys’. His ma’s man wanted nothing to do with him. Most nights, he slept at the steps of their cabin unless someone took pity on him.”

Her tone was subdued, but Heyward saw the workings of his ma’s mind. She figured it would fix everything if the three of them formed some kind of family, but it wouldn’t work. His ma was wrong on this one.

He wasn’t the fatherly sort. At one time, he thought he could have been with Gillie, but Gillie was gone, along with any desire he had had for a family. His heart had hardened to the thought.

“What you are asking, I can’t do, Ma. Besides, I can’t leave. I got a job to finish,” Heyward said in a grave, solemn voice. His eyebrow lifted as he watched the boy climb down off Lieutenant McFadden’s lap and walk over to him.

“That’s what Grammy Hazel told me,” Tome said. “Said you are a soldier helping fight for our freedom. I want to do that too…just like you. I told Grammy Hazel she got nothing to worry about. I’ll protect her from the bad man.”