The Freedom Star Part 10

"Sir, I come from Mr. Day's, up Milton way. I has a table for Mr. Patterson." Isaac couldn't control the tremble in his voice or the shake of his hands. He removed his hat and bowed slightly.

"d.a.m.n, boy, you're half frozen! Get in here." The door swung open. A short, gray haired gentleman with a full beard stood aside, his belly pressing against the b.u.t.tons of his waistcoat. He waved toward the glowing fire. "What in tarnation is Day thinking, sending his nigras out on a night like this?" Mr. Patterson shook his head. "Here, set down on that stool and warm yourself."

Isaac hurried to the hearth.

Mr. Patterson walked to the darkened staircase and cupped his hand beside his mouth. "Raleigh," he called, "fetch a blanket and brew a pot of tea. We have us a boy here who like to froze himself to death."

Isaac pulled the stool close to the fire. Mr. Patterson stirred the ashes and added a log. Coals glowed red, then flames leapt around the newly added wood. Isaac scooted back as the heat brushed his face.

"Thank you, sir. Wagon went in a ditch. I fell in trying to unstuck a wheel."

"I can see that, boy."

Footsteps padded down the stairway as Isaac stared into the dancing flames. Mr. Patterson handed him a blanket. The footfalls trailed off toward the back of the house. Isaac wrapped the blanket around his shoulders.

"Where's your wagon, boy?"

"Out front, sir. I'll go fetch your table-" Isaac started to rise.

"You sit, boy." Mr. Patterson pointed to the stool, then walked to a door that led to a back room. "Raleigh, when you finish there, go wake Ezekiel and tell him to get that table off the wagon out front, and have him put that horse up in the barn too. Be sure he gives that poor beast a good rub down."

"Thank you, sir," Isaac said. "Mr. Day will be appreciating your kindness."

"No sense in letting a good animal die from exposure. No sense in you trying to get back to Milton tonight neither. You get warmed. I'll have my house girl bring you dry clothes." Mr. Patterson started up the stairs, then paused and turned toward Isaac. "You can sleep in the barn tonight."

A door creaked followed by soft footfalls. "Here, drink this." The voice was clear, like the song of a wood thrush. Isaac turned. She stood beside him holding a steaming cup of chamomile tea.

Isaac stumbled to his feet, dropping the blanket to the floor. That same pale blue dress, now covered with a dark blue ap.r.o.n . . .

He gazed into large, almond eyes.

She smiled. "We have not been to church lately. Missus Patterson took ill, so we have not made the trip to Milton."

Isaac stepped away from the hearth, wiping sweat from his brow. "I . . . I been most every Sunday." He poked at the stool with his foot. "About gave up on seeing you again."

_____.

She faced away as Isaac peeled off the wet clothes and dropped them in a pile. He pulled on a pair of Ezekiel's trousers and slipped the borrowed s.h.i.+rt over his head. "They's a mite loose, but they's dry."

She turned around and looked him over, then motioned toward the fire. "You may sit a spell longer-just until the chill is gone. Do you have a name?"

"They calls me Isaac . . . 'cause I was the first son of Abraham. He's my pa."

"Nice to meet you, Isaac." She smiled and dipped in a mock curtsy. "My name is Raleigh, because that is where I was born." She sat on the sofa facing the hearth.

"Raleigh . . . that's a nice name." Isaac nodded. He took a sip of tea. "You been here long?"

"I have been in Mr. Patterson's employment for one year."

"He just bought you?"

"No. I am a free woman."

"How is you free? Was your mama free?"

"No, she died giving birth to me, but she died a slave. The Pattersons bought me when I was six years old. They raised me and taught me and, in return, I take care of their household needs."

"But you said you come here just last year?"

She rose and walked to the fireplace. "I said I came into Mr. Patterson's employment one year ago. When I was twelve, Mr. Patterson told me that if I worked hard he would pay me a small stipend to cover my needs. I told him my need was to be free, so he agreed to let me buy my freedom, one dollar at a time. A year ago he marked the debt paid and gave me my papers."

Isaac leaned toward her. "So, if you's free, why ain't you in New York, or Boston, or Philadelphia? Why's you here?"

"The Pattersons are the only family I've ever known. The Lord never blessed them with children, so they have no one to look after them in their old age. I guess I'm their family too." She sighed. "You'd best get out to the barn now. Take the blanket. You'll find saddle blankets in the tack room if you need more. I'll bring you coffee and biscuits in the morning."

"You be at church this Sabbath?"

Raleigh lowered her head. "I don't expect so." She wrung her hands, then looked up. "Now, go make your bed in the straw. And, Isaac . . ."

He turned as he headed toward the door.

"Stay warm." She smiled.

Isaac reached for his medallion. His hand wiped the front of his empty s.h.i.+rt.

Chapter Fourteen.

April 1861 "War! They've fired on Fort Sumter!" The cadet raced down the hallway banging on doors, shattering the Sat.u.r.day routine of cleaning rifles, polis.h.i.+ng shoes, and tending to uniforms. Cadets in every manner of dress rushed into the hallway. Henry tossed his musket on the bed and ran to the door.

At the end of the hall, a cadet held up a page of newsprint. "The paper says Captain Beauregard commanded the southern cannon."

"Beauregard?" Edward said. "He didn't last five days when he was up here as superintendent, but it sure sounds like he's making up for it now." He nudged Henry with his elbow. Nervous laughter pa.s.sed through the crowd.

"I hear tell West Point relieved him because of his secessionist leanings," a cadet called out in a down east accent.

The plebe with the newspaper held up his hand, silencing the crowd. "It says here Brigadier General P. G. T. Beauregard of the Confederate forces ordered his batteries to open fire on the U.S. fortress early Friday morning after negotiations between Beauregard and Major Anderson, United States Army, reached a stalemate concerning the surrender of Fort Sumter."

"Appears to me you make rank quickly in that rebel army," a Vermont cadet added. Several cadets laughed.

"Bet Sumter's guns showed them rebels what for," a lad from New Jersey said, waving his fist above the crowd.

"Did we take casualties?"

"Who won?"

"Where's the Navy?"

Questions flew at the self-appointed town crier as he appeared to try to make sense of the terse news story.

"Did who take casualties?" Henry glared at the gathering of cadets. The hallway became silent.

He studied his cla.s.smates. The sameness of their uniforms belied the differences in their hearts. Many wore confused, questioning expressions. The realization began to sink in; Americans had fired on fellow Americans.

"My G.o.d, what have they done?" Henry shook his head and walked away.

_____.

Henry avoided the cliques-southern cadets in one room, northerners in the next. Hushed discussions might be taking place behind closed doors, but the friction of earlier days appeared to have lifted. The weekend was cloaked in a surreal mantle of tense politeness.

Henry rose early Sunday morning and went to chapel. Many attended, but there seemed little agreement as to what their prayers should be. Afterward, Henry wandered back to the barracks, speaking to no one. He entered his room without a word, tossed his hat on the bed, and began unb.u.t.toning his tunic.

"What will you do?" Edward asked. He had broken the rules by lying on his bed during daylight hours. In different times, cadet officers roaming the hallways would have been quick to issue demerits. On this Sunday, no one bothered. He crossed his feet and put his hands behind his head.

"Virginia is Union and she'll stay Union," Henry said as he hung his tunic on the wooden peg. "We had our election a week ago. Secession was soundly defeated. I stand with my country and I stand with Virginia."

"That might get you by for today, McConnell, but what about tomorrow? What about next week? Virginia is a slave state. She won't be staying."

"Then ask me again next week. I go where Virginia goes."

_____.

The rattle of drums woke Henry with a start. Rubbing his eyes, he climbed out of bed. Through the window, gray dawn heralded another Monday. He splashed cold water on his face and began preparing for morning muster when a commotion came suddenly from the hallway outside his room. He cracked open the door. A crowd filled the pa.s.sageway.

"Sumter surrendered," a cadet shouted. "Anderson struck his flag."

"And Lincoln's calling for an invasion of the south," cried another plebe.

Politics and lies-a waste of his time. Henry slammed the door and finished dressing. He hurried down for morning formation.

Subdued requests replaced the normally sharp commands barked by the cadet officers. Henry took his place in formation. On command, the company covered down, filling gaps vacated by the cadets he'd seen packing their bags over the weekend. South Carolina, Mississippi, Florida, Alabama, Georgia, Louisiana, Texas-all gone.

As they marched to cla.s.s, Henry reflected on the tensions created over the last several days. He'd have never guessed that he would look forward to algebra cla.s.s. He smiled to himself. At least there were no politics in the cla.s.sroom.

_____.

Henry strode to the blackboard and wrote out his solution in large block numbers.

"Mr. McConnell, please enlighten us with your solution to problem number three." Professor Robertson sat on the corner of his desk holding a wooden pointer across his shoulder.

Henry pointed to his solution, explaining each step.

"Precisely, Mr. McConnell, a worthy recitation. Are there questions?" The professor looked around the cla.s.s.

"Just one." Cadet Wheatley rose from his seat. "How much longer are you seceshers going to linger here abouts? The true patriots among us are growing tired of having traitors in our midst."

Professor Robertson jumped to his feet. "Remove yourself at once, Mr. Wheatley." He swept the pointer toward the door. "I will tolerate no such outbursts in my cla.s.sroom."

Cadet Wheatley picked up his books. He glared at Henry, then turned and marched out the door.

"Get back to work." The professor tapped his pointer on a desk. "Problem four. Are there any volunteers?"

_____.

At the end of cla.s.s cadets filed from the room. Professor Robertson motioned to Henry. "Cadet McConnell, a moment, if you please." The professor waited until all the other cadets had departed, then settled on the edge of his desk. "What's your decision, Henry?"

"There is no decision to make. Virginia stays with the Union; I remain with her."

"Did you hear the news?"

Henry shook his head.

Professor Robertson walked around behind his desk. "Word just came up from Was.h.i.+ngton-Lincoln is asking for volunteers. He's calling for seventy-five thousand men to invade the south and quell what he calls the rebellion. Virginia will never stand for northern troops pa.s.sing through her to invade our neighbors. Virginia will have to secede, mark my word."

"I pray you are wrong, sir. I cannot envision lifting my sword against my country or putting a fellow cadet in my sights."

The professor smiled. "Not even Cadet Wheatley?"

Henry straightened. "Sir, in Virginia we are partial to our jacka.s.ses. They serve a useful, though often uninspiring, purpose."

"Touche, McConnell." The professor saluted with the pointer. "A word of advice. Keep an eye on Fitzhugh Lee. Follow his lead."

"Lee? Yes sir, Lieutenant Lee is well regarded by all cadets, north and south. Truly, a man to be followed."

"Good. Then watch Fitz.

_____.

The news arrived late Wednesday night, hitting the barracks like a flash of lightning: "Virginia secedes!"

Henry closed the door, leaning against the frame.

"What is it?" Edward asked, sitting up in his bed.

Henry waved him quiet, then blew out the lamp and dropped onto his bunk. An early spring breeze lifted the faint scent of honeysuckle and new gra.s.s through the open window. The familiar fragrances took him back to a simpler time-spring evenings in Virginia.

Somewhere down the hall a door slammed, followed by angry voices. Henry snapped back to the present. Gaslights outside cast the shadow of the window frame against the ceiling, forming a cross. Secession? It couldn't be. The academy, the army, even the republic-now, all were his enemy? He closed his eyes, but sleep would not come.

Dawn brought no respite. Henry didn't bother preparing for cla.s.s, but took extra time to ensure his uniform was inspection ready.

"Others will be watching, wondering what you Virginians will do." Edward stood before the mirror adjusting the line of his tunic.