Glimmers of Change (23 page)

Gabe, from his place next to Polly, raised the next question. “Has that bill become law yet?”

Rose shook her head. “Not that I know. I do know it passed both the Senate and the House of Representatives, but President Johnson had not yet signed it into law when Matthew sent this letter.”

“What if he doesn’t sign it?” another woman called.

“That’s a good question,” Rose responded. Let me read what Matthew said about that.”

You can tell your students the bill will certainly become law. Republican sentiment to ensure equal rights for blacks is quite determined. They may have to override the president’s veto, but they have the votes necessary to do it.

Silence fell on the room for a moment as they absorbed her words. A slightly built man, stooped from years in the cotton fields, stepped forward. “All that sounds real good, but how they gonna enforce it? Seems to me the white men down here ain’t gonna care about a piece of paper telling them what they supposed to do. They done pulled out most of the troops down here. Didn’t you tell us President Johnson done allowed all the states to form their own governments again? I don’t see them making that kind of thing stick.”

Rose sighed. She had been wondering the same thing. She made no attempt to correct Abner’s language. He had just started school two weeks earlier and had not yet conquered reading. It was too much to ask for proper speaking yet. “I don’t know the answers to that,” she answered honestly. “I’ve been having the same questions.”

Abby raised her hand slightly. “Could I say something about that?”

Rose had seen her slip into the back of the room shortly after the meeting started. “Please,” she said with relief, and then turned back to everyone. “Most of you know Abigail Cromwell. She delivered this letter to me yesterday from Richmond because she knows how important it is.”

All eyes turned toward the only white person in the room.

“Making any kind of change is a difficult thing,” she began. “I became part of the abolition movement back in the Thirties. I truly believed slavery would be over quickly because it was simply the right thing. I found out very quickly that reality was different from what I expected.” She smiled wryly and then added, “It took much longer than I thought it should, but it
did
happen. Equal rights for all of you is going to be the same way. It seems just as obvious to me that blacks and women should have the right to vote, but I suspect it is going to be a battle. There will be some steps forward, there will be some steps back, and then there will be times when you’re convinced everything is simply standing in place, not moving anywhere.”

Every eye was fixed on her.

“This Civil Rights bill is just a step,” Abby continued. “But it’s an important step. It was written when moderate Republicans still believed President Johnson was a reasonable man with the best interests of the freed slaves at heart. They no longer believe that. In a way, that’s a good thing.”

“A good thing that our president don’t — I mean,
doesn’t
think we deserve equal rights?” Gabe asked.

“No, of course not,” Abby said quickly. “That’s not what I meant. It’s a horrible thing that he feels that way, but now everyone sees him for who he is. They realize he’s not a man of reason, and that he doesn’t have the best interests of the freed slaves at heart. They will pass this bill, but the next one that follows will be even stronger. It will demand more rights.”

“How they gonna enforce it?” Abner asked again, his eyes fixed defiantly on Abby.

Abby shook her head heavily. “I don’t know the answers to all these questions,” she replied. “I don’t know that anyone does. The country is still reeling from losing President Lincoln’s leadership. Many things happened under President Johnson last year that I don’t believe should have happened.”

“Even with this law in place, things could get real bad, couldn’t they?” Polly asked.

Abby exchanged a look with Rose before she turned back to everyone. “Yes,” she admitted. “I wish I could tell you differently, but I can’t. I’m sorry.”

“We’re used to bad times,” Gabe said bluntly. He stood and turned to look at everyone in the room. “This Civil Rights bill is a good thing, but it doesn’t mean we can let down our guard. It’s still up to us to protect our families. It’s still up to us to know what is going on.”

Carrie could hear the rumble of voices as she finished up with her last patient, an elderly man recovering from pneumonia. When he had first been brought in to her several weeks earlier, he had been coughing up yellowish phlegm tinged with blood and gasping for air. She had been alarmed by his high fever and chills.

She had sent him home immediately, surrounded by blankets from the clinic to keep him warm. His daughter, frightened by her father’s illness, left with a recipe for broth and stern instructions to keep him warm and dry.

“My daddy be doing a whole lot better,” Bea said gratefully. “I thought you were a little crazy when you told me to make that soup from garlic, radishes, carrots and celery, but his breathing eased up pretty quick.”

“I thought she was tryin’ to drown me with that soup. Eber time I opened my eyes she was shoving that soup down me.” Dalton rolled his eyes. “My daughter did just what you told her, Miss Carrie.”

“You took good care of him,” Carrie said approvingly.

“That she did,” her father agreed. “I think it was that tea you had her make me out of milkweed that really made me better. It didn’t taste so good, but it sure cleared things up.”

“The pleurisy root,” Carrie acknowledged with a smile. “I haven’t found anything that works better, Dalton. It works on a lot of things. I’ve mashed it into a salve for cuts and sores. I used it once to heal someone who had burned their eyes.”

Bea eyed her. “Did you learn all that when you was working at the hospital during the war?”

Carrie grinned. “Definitely not. There are still doctors who practice what is called bloodletting. They withdraw blood from a patient to cure pneumonia.”

Bea looked horrified. “Why would they do that?”

“It is based on an ancient system of medicine. Blood and other bodily fluids are regarded as humors that have to remain in proper balance to maintain health,” Carrie explained, knowing her words probably made little sense.

“You think they be right?” Bea asked skeptically.

Carrie shook her head firmly. “No.”

Bea was silent for a moment. “Ain’t you going to a fancy medical school up north, Miss Carrie? What you gonna do when they teach you about this?”

Carrie grinned again. “I’m going to listen. I’m going to learn it well enough to pass my tests. And then I’m going to do what is best for my patients.”

“You gonna teach them all this stuff Old Sarah taught you?”

Carrie’s expression softened as she thought of the months she had spent tromping through the woods with Old Sarah, learning the magic of the plants. “I’m going to try,” she promised. “I already know traditional medicine turns its nose up at some of the herbal medicines. I probably would have too, before Old Sarah taught me everything. She gave me a gift I can never repay.”

“Then why you going?” Dalton asked.

“Because I can learn a lot from them,” Carrie said promptly. “There is so much I need to learn about surgical procedures that I don’t know yet. And new discoveries are being made every day. I will always use the herbal remedies in my practice, but I’m sure other things will be developed that can help people. I want to know it all. I want to use whatever will make my patients better.”

Carrie walked out to Dalton’s wagon with them, waving as they rolled down the road and around the bend. They had wanted to stay for Rose’s meeting, but she was concerned the ride home when the air was even cooler would be too hard on his still-recovering lungs.

June appeared at her side as the wagon disappeared. “You notice anything different about today?”

Carrie frowned. She had hoped only she noticed it. “We didn’t have any white patients,” she said.

“That happens when you’re not here,” June observed, “but there has never been a day when you’re here that white people don’t come.”

“I know,” Carrie agreed.

“You got any ideas why?” June pressed.

Carrie kept her eyes on the road, not able to escape the sense of dread that had filled her all day. Now that all her patients were gone, there was nothing to keep her mind off it. There was something in the air that prickled at her skin. “No,” she finally said, “but things don’t feel right.”

“I agree,” June said promptly. “I’ve been feeling uneasy all day. I tried telling myself I’m making it up, but my mama always told me to trust when something don’t feel right.”

Carrie took a deep breath. “I think Annie is right,” she said. She had a sudden urge to be back on the plantation. “How much longer is the meeting going to last?”

“I don’t think much longer. Rose told me she wanted everyone to get home before it gets dark.”

Carrie looked at her sharply. Rose almost always had night classes. “Since when?”

“Since this morning when Rose told me she felt something in the air,” June replied somberly.

Just then the door to the schoolhouse opened. Greetings filled the air, but the schoolyard emptied quickly. Moments later, they were all in the carriage headed for the plantation. When the house appeared in the distance, smoke wafting from the chimneys, Carrie felt herself relax for the first time that day. Nothing seemed to be wrong. She saw the same relief mirrored in Rose’s and June’s eyes.

Robert opened the door for them, a broad smile on his face. “You’re home. Annie almost has dinner ready.”

Carrie smiled as the aroma of fried chicken, collard greens, and cornbread rolled over them. She suddenly realized how hungry she was. “We’ll wash up quickly and be back down,” she said, heading for the staircase.

“What’s that?” Moses asked with his hand on the doorknob as he started to pull the door closed. He stopped, looking down the driveway.

Robert frowned. “Hoofbeats.” He reached for the rifle that now had a permanent place by the front door and stepped back out on the porch.

Carrie tensed and turned back, exchanging a long look with Rose and June.

Moments later a horse galloped around the curve. They heard a vague cry but couldn’t identify what was being said.

“It’s only one person,” Robert said. He continued to hold the rifle, but he pointed it down. “I think someone is in trouble.”

The rider finally got close enough for them to hear the words. “Fire! Fire!”

Moments later, Clint skidded to a stop, his gelding’s sides heaving and caked with sweat. “The schoolhouse,” he yelled. “It’s on fire!”

Rose gripped the seat of the carriage tightly as the horses galloped down the driveway. Robert slowed them only slightly when they reached the turn to the main road, but the amber glow in the distance told her it was already too late. The wooden structure would burn quickly and there was not a water supply to put it out. The single well would be almost useless against a serious blaze.

No one said a word as the carriage stopped far enough away to protect the horses from the heat. They all jumped out, watching grimly as a portion of the roof collapsed. They could see books and desks burning from the open window, but there was no way to save anything.

Carrie quickly realized the medical clinic had not yet caught fire. “The medical supplies!” she yelled, dashing for the door. “We have to save what we can!” She covered her mouth with her hand and ran inside, horrified by the sound of the flames devouring the school.