Her Captain's Heart (17 page)

“Now, because before the war I owned too much land to suit the abolitionists in Congress, I was barred from taking the oath of loyalty to the U.S. or holding office. Virginia was in the process of writing a new state constitution. I had hopes of at least regaining the vote. Now this.” Dace looked at the paper with loathing.

Dace felt that his right to vote was more important than Samuel's? Matt's ire fired up. “What did you think was going to happen, Dace? The war supposedly settled once and for all the issue of slavery—”

“I can accept the end of slavery,” Dace cut in. “I must.”

“But you don't accept that Samuel is free now and will vote just like any other man,” Matt said. “And people like Orrin Dyke are still actively fighting the changes that freeing the slaves must bring. In other Southern states there have been race riots and lynchings. The slaves can be free as long as they don't act free. Isn't that what you mean, Dace?”

With his clenched fist, Dace hit the table, turned and stalked out.

 

Annie's grandmother had left to spread the good news. Now Verity stood in front of the row of first-graders and began dictating their spelling words. The children had their chalks poised over their slates and were listening so hard that it made her smile. “Spell
rob.
” Squeaky chalk scribbled on the slates.

The joy of locating the first family of a lost soldier still bubbled inside her. Verity couldn't wait to write her sisters this evening. This was cause for celebration.
Wait until Matthew hears. Maybe now he will believe in the power of love to reach hearts and change minds.
Then she made herself concentrate on the spelling test. “Spell
mob,
” she said.

 

After school on that happy day, Verity strolled home, lighthearted, through the early twilight. She'd stayed late, tidying up the schoolroom and correcting papers written by the older students. As she approached her home, she noted that there was a strange carriage parked in front of her house. Who could be visiting? Verity hurried up her back steps and into the warm kitchen, where Hannah was standing at the stove. Verity bent to pat Barney as he greeted her. The room was fragrant with the scent of ham roasting. Beth was at the table, doing her homework.

Hannah swung around to face Verity. “I'm glad you come home, Miss Verity,” Hannah whispered. “Joseph and Matthew are in the parlor, entertaining two gentlemen. I didn't like the look of them.”

Verity took off her gloves, cape and bonnet and hung them on a peg by the door, smoothing back her hair. “Who are they?”

“I don't remember their names, but one is black and one's skinny and white. Looks like he never had a square meal.”

Verity grinned. “Do we have enough to invite them to eat supper with us?” Hannah nodded. “Then I'd best go in.” Patting Beth on the back, Verity headed to the parlor. She paused at the entrance to the room, a smile of welcome on her face.

Joseph jumped up from his chair, but Matthew made the introductions. “Verity, these two gentlemen, Mr. Alfred Wolford and Mr. Jeremiah Cates, are from the Freedman's Bureau. Gentlemen, this is Mrs. Verity Hardy.”

She walked forward, holding out her hand.

The two men who'd stood up were staring at her in a funny way. It turned out that Mr. Wolford was the tall, thin white man and Jeremiah Cates was the large, robust-looking black man. After they had shaken hands, she said, “Please be seated again, Friends. I'm so happy to entertain thee in my home.”

“Don't you mean the Freedman's Bureau's home, young woman?” Mr. Wolford glowered at her.

This caught Verity just as she was about to lower herself into one of the chairs. “I beg thy pardon?”

“This home, in fact, belongs to the Freedman's Bureau, doesn't it?” Mr. Wolford insisted in a scratchy voice that was higher than expected. His Adam's apple bobbed in his scrawny throat.

“Thee knows that is true.” Verity sat down. “But why does thee bring it up?”

“We bring it up,” Mr. Cates said in his full deep voice, “because rumor has it that you have overstepped your bounds, ma'am.” He sat down again, while Mr. Wolford remained standing.

“Indeed?” She widened her eyes in surprise. “And thee listens to rumors? I never do.” Of course she shouldn't have included those final three words.
But it's the truth.

She glanced at Matthew to see if he could offer her any enlightenment as to what was going on here. He merely stared at her in stony silence. Smothering fear pressed on her lungs.
What do these men want?

From his stance at the fireplace, Mr. Wolford glared at her. “Young woman, we've heard rumors that the Freedman's school here has openly included white children. And your father-in-law has admitted that this is true.” Mr. Wolford sounded as disgruntled as if he were at table and someone had pulled away his plate of food.

“So, ma'am, you see it's good we listen to rumors,” Mr. Cates said with a sly, smooth smile.

Her gaze on Matthew, Verity replied, “That is true. We have four white students attending here.” As she thought of this triumph, sparkling happiness filled her as usual. “Why shouldn't white children attend public school? They would in the North.” Matthew's face was clenched and rigid.

“Now, ma'am, is it fair for children whose parents owned slaves and fought against the Union to receive a free education at the government's expense?” Mr. Cates asked in his rolling baritone. “You are forgetting who the enemy is.”

Verity tried to stifle her increasing apprehension, a stiffening at the back of her neck. “Do we still have enemies a year after the war ended? The war is over, Friends. I didn't come here to prolong it. I came to do what President Lincoln wanted us to do. I wanted to bind up the nation's wounds, to bring help and healing here. White children should not be punished for the actions of their parents. And I would think that having white children and black children attending the local school together would advance this—”

“Young woman, this isn't a Christian mission,” Mr. Wolford snapped. “The Freedman's Bureau is a government body with very specific purposes paid for by taxes.”

She again looked to Matthew, appealing for his backing. He said nothing, but looked back at her with a pained expression. She tried reason again, saying, “I don't understand why four white children in school is objectionable. I assure thee that the black children don't complain. Perhaps thee doesn't understand the situation Mr. Ritter and I faced when we arrived here.”

“Mr. Ritter gave us some indication of this, ma'am. But we would be glad to hear what you have to say.” Mr. Cates motioned to her to speak.

Some indication? An odd sensation came over her, like ants crawling up her spine. What had Matthew told these men about her? “When we came to Fiddlers Grove, the white people here were set against having a Freedman's school in their town,” Verity began.

“And they didn't hesitate to make this known.” Joseph spoke for the first time. “They attacked Matt, attacked my daughter-in-law, burned our barn and tried to burn our house down. Or should I say the
Freedman's Bureau's
house down?” Joseph looked flushed and angry. “Why wasn't the Bureau here then to try to protect
its
house and my daughter-in-law?”

Seeing the men's expressions hardening into anger, Verity spoke up, her words stumbling over each other in her haste. “I think that my father-in-law is trying to tell thee that we had a very difficult time at first. But with God's favor, I won some of the people over by appealing to their better selves.”

“Young woman, where in your instructions did it say anything about including white children in a Freedman's school?” Mr. Wolford demanded, ignoring what she'd said. “A Freedman's school is to educate black children and adult Negroes—freed slaves—who must learn how to read and write in order to become informed voting citizens.”

“Aren't white children supposed to become informed voting citizens, too?” Verity asked in what she hoped was a reasonable tone, fire beginning to burn in her stomach.

“That is not the point in question,” Mr. Cates replied, rising to stare down at her. “Are you aware that the former Southern states have been dissolved and the South is now under military jurisdiction? The South is unregenerate. They will not ratify the Fourteenth Amendment, giving former slaves citizenship.”

Each word hit her like a well-aimed missile.

“The Freedman's Bureau is a bureau in the War Department,” Mr. Wolford added. “You and Mr. Ritter were given very generous funds in order to carry out a specific program to benefit black children and freed slaves, just as Mr. Cates has said. Not to open a school for all the children of Fiddlers Grove, Virginia.”

Mr. Cates nodded his agreement.

Verity stared at them in dawning disbelief.
No, no, please, no.
Were they listening to themselves? “White children sitting in the same building as black children costs the U.S. nothing.”

Frowning, Mr. Cates said, “I don't like repeating myself, but you have overstepped your bounds, ma'am. No doubt from the best of motives. But as usual, a woman doesn't easily grasp legal distinctions.”

The man's casual insult of her intelligence just because she was female left Verity openmouthed, gasping, speechless.
When someone deems thee inferior because of thy dark skin, does thee like it?
She bit her lower lip to stop herself from tossing this question into his condescending face.

Mr. Wolford moved toward the parlor door. “Mr. Cates and I will be staying in the area. We expect that you will dismiss the white children from the school. Otherwise we will have to inform the Bureau that
you
should be dismissed.”

One last time, Verity tried to catch Matthew's eye, but he wouldn't meet her gaze. Her face burned from their scorn.

“Mr. Ritter, we'd like to meet the men you mentioned earlier, the ones you think will carry on the Union League after you leave Fiddlers Grove.” Mr. Cates's rich voice boomed in the strained silence in the room.

Matthew was leaving Fiddlers Grove? Verity felt as if she'd been hit with a second hammer.

“Good evening, ma'am.” Mr. Cates gave a perfunctory bow and left, followed by Mr. Wolford who gave her only a parting glare. Matthew departed without even a backward glance.

When Joseph returned from seeing the men to the door, he and Verity just looked at one another.

“Does that mean they are going to put Alec and Annie and the other white students out of our school?” Beth stood in the doorway into the parlor, Barney whining at her feet.

Seeing Beth's troubled expression made Verity feel nauseated. She sat back down. “I can't believe…I just can't believe it.”

Beth hurried to her, her dark braids bouncing. “You're not going to let them do that to Alec, are you, Mama?”

Verity rested her head on her hand. She tried to understand why Matthew had remained silent while these two bureaucrats had scolded her for doing what God had sent her here to do. Surely there was something she and Matthew could do to avert this. Sending Alec and Annie and the other white children away was too awful to imagine. There must be a way to stop these men from ruining everything.

Then an awful realization trickled through her like icy water. Why did she think Matthew would help her?

Matthew had sat here in the same room and had said nothing to defend her. He'd remained as remote as a disapproving stranger. But then, Matthew didn't support what she'd done here. He'd only tolerated it. At this thought, she pressed a hand to her pained heart. How did that mesh with the promise she thought he'd made to her in this very room on Christmas Eve?

 

Matthew stepped inside the back door and hung up his jacket and muffler. In the warm, shadowy kitchen, he turned and saw Verity, obviously upset. He'd almost gone to his cabin for the night—he hadn't wanted to face this. But he wasn't a coward. He'd seen the light in the kitchen window and knew that she was up and worried.

I can't do anything about Wolford and Cates. I can't change anything here for her.
He felt like a failure. Was this how his father had felt all those years ago when he'd done right but was helpless to change Virginia or to protect his family from injustice?

Verity stared up at him, hurt visible in her warm brown eyes. He folded his arms across his chest to keep from reaching for her.

He searched for something to say, something to keep from discussing what she would want to discuss. What he could do nothing about. What he was helpless to alter. “Hannah's gone home for the night?”

Verity looked confused. “Of course. Did thee eat?”

Food?
Had he eaten? “No.” His stomach growled as if upon command. He looked past Verity, not wanting to meet her gaze. Facing enemy fire had been less taxing than remaining silent while Cates and Wolford had berated her. But how could he disagree with them? Everything they'd said was absolutely, point-by-point true.