Читать книгу Her Rebel Heart - Shannon Farrington - Страница 10
ОглавлениеChapter One
Baltimore, Maryland 1861
Samuel Ward watched the rising sun and wondered why he had even bothered to go to bed the night before. He hadn’t slept, nor had he expected to. How could he when the woman to whom he’d pledged his love and devotion had broken his heart?
Julia’s words sliced through his mind.
You are a coward. I will not marry you.
He raked his fingers through his reddish-brown hair, trying to comprehend such a declaration. Just a few weeks ago, they’d been happy and in love. Their future had seemed secure. But the bloody conflict that had divided the nation into North and South had divided Sam and Julia, as well. The final straw had come last night when word had spread that Federal troops were in the process of occupying Baltimore. Angry and frightened, Julia had wanted him to say that he’d support the Confederacy and drive the Northern troops out of their home. But he could not say it. He could not support States’ Rights. And that was something she could not accept.
The hole in his heart was vast but as a history and rhetoric teacher at the Rolland Park Men’s Seminary, he had a duty to perform. He picked up his watch and gathered his books. He knew the campus would be in an uproar because of what was happening in the city. He prayed for wisdom.
Help me, Lord. Help me follow Your path.
When Sam arrived at the seminary the halls were filled with talk.
“That army is going to arrest anyone with Southern sympathy.”
“Those that had it left town last night.”
“They won’t be the last to leave. You can be certain of that.”
Sam walked into his classroom. He stopped briefly to glance at the painting of Francis Scott Key, which hung prominently above the blackboard. The father of the “Star Spangled Banner” had once been caught between two opposing armies. Samuel couldn’t help but wonder if Fort McHenry would once again be the center of rockets’ red glare.
One month ago, Confederate forces had fired upon Fort Sumter. President Lincoln called for volunteers to put down the rebellion. When Northern troops tried to pass through Baltimore en route to Washington they clashed with pro-secession citizens. Rioting commenced. The soldiers opened fire. People were killed.
His country was at war. So was his family.
He took out his books. When his students filed in he called the roll. Five were missing. He stared at the empty chairs, rumors of their departure circulating around him.
“They rode to Carroll County last night,” one student volunteered.
“They packed their haversacks with foodstuffs and took their pistols.”
“They will be in Virginia before the week is through.”
Julia’s brother Edward was a member of the Maryland Guard. He and many other men from the state militia had gone south last night. Sam wondered if his students would fall under Edward’s leadership. He prayed that wherever they were this morning that God would protect them.
The remaining men in the classroom wore faces of uncertainty. All they wished to discuss was the army that had invaded Baltimore. They were just as divided as the city. Some were for the occupation.
“Life will get back to normal now because of this show of force.”
Others were not so sure. “What do you think General Butler’s true intentions are?” one of the men asked.
Sam drew in a deep breath, wanting to remain calm and unaffected by it all, or at least show as much to his students. The last thing they needed was a teacher stirring up their concerns by airing his own fears. But his anxiety over Edward’s safety and his despair over the loss of Julia’s love made it hard to sound optimistic.
“I should hope that his intentions are as he stated in his proclamation, to ‘…enforce respect and obedience to the laws.’”
The notice from the Union General had been printed in the local papers that morning. Anyone who could get their hands on one had read it.
For months now the newspapers had been reporting on Maryland’s possible political future. The state legislature swung one month toward Federal sovereignty and then unfettered States’ Rights the next. Now Maryland’s position had been determined for her. She would be kept in the Union by force.
“We have much to attend to today,” he said, trying to keep the political discussion limited. “Please open your books to chapter four.”
Sam tried to continue with his lesson plans but his heart was heavy and his students were distracted. The combination of which did not make for a very engaging time of study. He ended up dismissing the young men early.
“Look after your families,” he told them.
The students seemed grateful to go. They rose quickly from their seats and hurried for the door. Their teacher, wishing to join them, moved to pack his books in his satchel. But where could he go? The Stantons, Julia’s family, were the closest thing he still had to family. But her words the previous night had made it quite clear that she would not welcome his company any longer. Her words were still ringing in his ears.
You are a coward. I will not marry you.
A knock on the door frame caused him to look up. There in the opening stood Dr. Charles Carter, the dean of students.
“And how are you today, Mr. Ward?” he said evenly as though it were any other spring day.
Sam had only known the man for a short period of time but he had come to respect him. Dr. Carter was a by-the-book disciplinarian but impartial and evenhanded, as well.
“Well, sir. And you?”
Dr. Carter smiled a tempered smile. “Oh, well enough.” He stepped toward Sam’s desk. “How was your class? The attendance in particular, if I may ask.”
Sam sighed and gave the man his report.
Dr. Carter nodded silently, as though he had suspected such. “I am afraid to say that this is the case in many classrooms this morning,” he said. His eyes swept the empty room then turned back. “Do not be discouraged, young man. The hand of Providence still guides.”
Sam appreciated the remark but did not have time to express so.
The dean then asked, “Have you a moment?”
“I do, sir.”
“Then would you walk with me?”
“It would be a pleasure, sir. I was headed outside myself.” Sam quickly packed his satchel and closed his classroom.
“These old rooms get so musty in the springtime,” Dr. Carter remarked. “I much prefer the fresh air.”
Sam followed the man to the end of the hall. They descended the large, walnut staircase, crossed the main foyer and stepped out onto the tree-lined campus before Dr. Carter spoke again.
“I couldn’t help but notice the small volume on your desk just now. Tell me, Mr. Ward, if you will be so kind, do you find Frederick Douglass’s words captivating?”
Heat crept up Sam’s neck. His tie and collar seemed a little too tight. He hadn’t even been aware that an autobiography of the former Maryland slave was lying on his desk. He must have placed it in his satchel with his other school books that morning.
He had bought the book in Philadelphia during his time at the State Street Teacher’s College. It was there he had first been exposed to the true realities of slavery. The more he learned, the more his conviction had grown that he could not support an institution that allowed one man to own another. It was a “state right” he could not condone for anyone’s sake. Not even Julia’s. Sam wondered where Dr. Carter’s inquiry was leading but he answered truthfully.
“I do not find them so much captivating, sir, as I do haunting.”
Dr. Carter nodded, though his face gave little indication to what he thought of the admission. “Why is that?” he simply asked.
Sam wished now that he hadn’t agreed to this walk. Slavery was a dividing issue. The last thing he wanted was to cause controversy between him and one of his colleagues. But he could not deny the certainty that he felt in his heart. He had no wish to offend, but he wouldn’t deny his beliefs. He answered the question carefully.
“We are all created in the image of God,” he said. “We should treat each other as God treats us.”
Dr. Carter stopped beneath one of the maple trees. He turned to Sam and smiled.
“I, too, share your thoughts,” he said.
“You do?”
“Yes. Have you ever met Mr. Douglass?”
“I have. A few months ago.”
“You were educated in Philadelphia, yes?”
“That is correct, sir.”
They started walking once more, choosing the stone path that led to the library.
“Fine work they are doing in Philadelphia,” Dr. Carter said. “Fine work, indeed.”
Sam wasn’t certain if he was referring to education or something else. He sensed it was the latter.
“I met Mr. Douglass once, myself,” Dr. Carter said. “In Boston.” He glanced at Sam. “There is fine work going on in Boston, as well.”
Sam did not reveal that he had once been there, as well; but by now he was beginning to suspect that Frederick Douglass and the fine work up north were related. Coupled with Dr. Carter’s first question, he reckoned that the Dean of Students had sided with the abolitionist cause. He seemed most curious to know what Sam’s position was.
“It is fine work,” Sam said. “Something I think that there should be more of.”
Dr. Carter’s eyes practically sparkled with excitement. From his vest pocket he produced a small scrap of paper. He handed it to Sam. “Then perhaps you would be interested in meeting some of my friends.”
Sam studied the note. It was an address in the Fell’s Point area. “Are your friends engaged in fine work?” he asked, borrowing the phrase.
“They are and they are always looking for God-fearing young men such as you to be part of such.”
He was cautiously intrigued. He had met a few abolitionists in Philadelphia. Most of them were kindhearted, wonderful people. A few, however, had such wild, vengeful looks in their eyes that frankly, they scared him. Sam wanted no part of a group like that. He believed judgment should be reserved for God alone.
A group of students exited the library. They walked toward Dr. Carter and Sam.
Dr. Carter’s countenance changed, a firm disciplinary look replacing the smiling excitement his face had just shown.
“Four o’clock, next Friday,” he said matter-of-factly. Then he opened the door to the library. Sam watched the white-haired gentleman walk into the building. Then he slipped the scrap of paper the man had given him into his own vest pocket.
Dr. Carter had left him with many questions. Abolitionists were a varying lot, and Sam wasn’t exactly certain what he might be getting into. He would appreciate his future father-in-law’s counsel. But given what had taken place with Julia, he wondered if Dr. Stanton would receive him. Does he know about our broken engagement? Will he side with Julia? He decided to take the chance. After all, he was concerned for their safety.
Heeding his own advice to look after one’s family, he hurried to visit the Stantons.
The streets of Mount Vernon were nearly deserted that afternoon. Barricades had filled the streets; but, as of today, the citywide state of “armed neutrality” had given way to at least the appearance of submission. Maryland state flags and the Palmetto flag, the symbol of South Carolina and secession, had been removed. The armed men that had been patrolling the streets for the last month were nowhere to be seen. The Federal guns pointing at Monument Square had discouraged outside activity.
Sam was eager to be indoors as well. To his relief, Dr. Stanton greeted him warmly when he arrived. He invited Sam to join him in the study. The man had surrounded himself with his medical journals.
“I came to see how everyone was,” Sam told him, “and to see if you were in need of any assistance.” And, if I may, get your opinion about something, he thought.
Dr. Stanton nodded. “I thank you. My wife has spent the entire day in bed.”
Sam’s concern rose. He decided to forgo his planned request for advice. Dr. Stanton had more pressing concerns.
“I am sorry to hear that. Is she ill?”
“Not really. Edward’s departure has broken Esther’s heart. She doesn’t know what to do.” He rubbed his mustache. “I suppose we all are that way. All I can seem to concentrate on are my medical books. Julia has busied herself in the kitchen. She has baked four loaves of bread today.”
Sam caught himself smiling, though it was a sorrow filled one. Julia had always baked when she was upset or angry.
“Is there any word from Edward?” he asked.
“No, and I fear that there won’t be for a very long time.”
Neither man knew what to say next. Dr. Stanton went back to his journal. Sam sat quietly and stared at the ceiling. He could hear the rattle of pots and pans coming from the kitchen. He wondered if Julia knew he was here.
“How were your classes?” Dr. Stanton asked.
“I had five missing from my history class alone.”
“They left to fight?”
“So the rumors say.”
Dr. Stanton sighed long and slow. He tugged at his spectacles. “And those that remained?”
“Their minds were far from the Roman Empire.”
“I imagine so.”
Sam heard the rustle of her petticoats even before he saw her. Julia’s approaching footsteps drew their attention to the door.
“Father, we are in need of wood for the stove…”
The moment she saw Sam an unnerved expression filled her blue eyes. The rest of her words escaped her. He purposefully maintained his gaze. His heart was pounding.
Julia brushed the trace of flour from the front of her green cotton day dress and slowly regained her composure. She looked at her father.
“Will you ask Lewis to fetch some?”
Sam seized the opportunity. “I will see to it.”
“Oh, thank you, son.”
Son. Dr. Stanton had always called him that. Nothing had changed from his perspective it seemed. Julia, however, did not even acknowledge his presence. She turned her head and looked away as he passed by her.
Sam did not let her actions discourage him. Instead of hunting down Lewis, the family stable hand, he walked to the lean-to.
There was no wood available. He was not surprised. It was Edward’s job to see that the kindling box remained full. With all of her baking Julia had depleted the supply that her brother had last chopped. Sam picked out several logs in need of splitting. He could not ease the tensions in his city or his nation. He couldn’t protect Edward, his students or Julia. But this was something that needed to be done that he could do. He took off his frock coat and set to work.
Julia watched him from the kitchen window. Sleeves rolled up, hair falling over his forehead, arms taut with the ax; in a matter of minutes Samuel had already split enough wood to last for the rest of the day.
He has always been such a hard worker.
She had known Samuel Ward since she was a child. Their families had attended the same church. When his parents had died of typhoid fever when he was but sixteen, he’d practically become a member of their family. Mother doted on him. Father took pride in his accomplishments. Edward treated him like a brother. And she…she fell in love with him. The time he’d spent away from Baltimore, continuing his studies at the teachers’ college in Philadelphia, had been almost unbearable. She’d felt that she couldn’t wait for him to come back to her, so they could begin their life together.
He was the quiet, steady type, far different from her outspoken, impulsive nature. As different as he was though, he completed her. And, up until last night, she could not imagine life without him.
The knot in the pit of her stomach tightened. She turned from the window and moved to the stove. She had responsibilities, none of which included watching him.
I am right to break the engagement. I thought I knew him but clearly I did not.
A pot of chicken soup was waiting to be heated. Julia planned to take a bowl up to her mother. She knew it would make her feel better.
She stirred the cold mixture then moved to the counter. She punched down a mound of rising dough then kneaded it carefully. She could hear the chop, chop, chop of Samuel’s ax. She tried to ignore it. She slipped the dough into a waiting pan.
A few minutes later, the back door opened with a creak. Julia resisted the urge to turn around. She busied herself by wiping the flour from the table. She then washed her hands. From the corner of her eye she watched him.
Samuel carried in the wood for the kindling box. He quietly loaded the crate then moved to the stove. Julia started to object, ready to say she could light the fire herself. She turned to face him fully. Just one glimpse of his brown eyes brought a lump to her throat.
I promised to love him, she thought. I promised him forever.
She backed away and Samuel’s attention returned to the stove. He stuffed it with kindling and day-old copies of the local newspaper, The Baltimore Sun. He struck a match. The fire ignited and he then turned back to face her.
The lump in her throat grew bigger. Thank you, she knew she should say, instead out came, “Why are you here?”
Her words were sharp and accusatory but Samuel did not flinch. He simply looked at her, his eyes melting her hard stance.
“I think you know why,” was all he said.
She swallowed hard and watched as he closed the burner lid then went to the pump to wash his hands. Julia held her breath, her emotions drifting through anger and remorse, respect and disdain.
Samuel dried his hands and rolled down his shirtsleeves. When he turned toward her she quickly busied herself at the table with another pile of dough.
“Julia, we need to talk.”
She punched down the soft, sticky mound. “What is there to discuss? Did I not make it clear that I wish to sever our engagement?”
“You made that perfectly clear last night.”
Last night. Pain gripped her heart. Just thinking of Edward’s departure, of the arguing that had taken place, brought tears to her eyes.
“Then you understand,” she said.
“I understand that you are upset,” he said, “and rightfully so. You are worried about your brother.” He paused. “For some reason you are taking it out on me.”
Her spine stiffened. She turned and glared at him. “Some reason?”
“Julia, I have nothing to do with the soldiers occupying the city or with Edward’s enlistment.”
“That’s right. You don’t. You haven’t done a thing to stop it. You abandoned Edward and the rest of the volunteers when they needed your help.”
“What is it that you wish me to do?” he asked. “Shall I ride to Virginia tonight and join Edward? Would a saber and an officer’s commission truly make you happy?”
Emotions tore through her. If he joined Edward, then yes, she believed she would have a measure of peace. Samuel could look after him. But experience told her otherwise.
He cannot be trusted. He is not a man of his word.
“It is far too late for that, Samuel,” she said. She was doing her best to keep her voice steady, in control. It would do no good to argue with him. She had already said everything that needed to be said. He had made his decision. She had made hers.
Sam watched her in silence for a few moments. Her face showed fatigue. More than likely she had slept just as little as he. He imagined that after his departure she had spent the long night pleading with Edward not to go south.
Even still, she was beautiful. Her dark curls had escaped her bun. Much of her hair now hung long and loose about her shoulders. Sam had rarely seen it that way. He liked it.
His eyes drifted to her unadorned left hand. He wondered what she had done with his engagement ring. Last night she had ripped it from her hand and held it out to him.
He had refused to take it back.
Look at me, Julia.
Seconds passed. He knew she could feel the weight of his gaze. Finally, she spoke.
“If you will excuse me, Samuel. I have work to tend to.”
He drew in a shallow breath, knowing he had a decision to make. He could argue. He could refuse to leave. He could force her to turn around.
But when a lady makes a request, a gentleman will oblige her.
Walking out of the kitchen was one of the hardest things he had ever done. He wanted to take her in his arms, to set things right. He wanted to convince her that her anger toward him was pointless. He loved her. She loved him. He could see it in her eyes.
But Julia Marie Stanton was a stubborn woman. No amount of convincing could change her mind. She would have to do that for herself.
He was determined to wait until she did.
And in that time spent waiting, he’d pray that she would one day see things from his perspective.
He walked back to the lean-to. He placed the ax on the shelf then gathered up his outer clothing. Rather than return to the house by way of the kitchen, he entered through the garden door.
Dr. Stanton was still in the study. His spectacles were perched upon his nose, medical book still in his hands. He looked up.
“Thank you, son. Will you stay for supper?”
The offer was tempting. Goodness knows he wanted to. Even apart from his longing to stay with Julia, there was also the comfort to be found in time spent with Dr. and Mrs. Stanton. The prospect of returning to his lonely, cheerless home held little appeal in comparison.
But he had caused enough tension in the house already.
“Thank you, sir,” he said. “But I have some errands to run this evening.”
“Ah, I see. Be careful. I was out this morning and I noticed several boys in blue.”
Sam nodded. “What do you think the next few weeks will bring?”
Julia’s father shrugged. “Hard to say but I hope it is little more than an intimidating presence.”
It reminded Sam of the answer he had given his students.
“After all,” Dr. Stanton added, “the state legislature voted on their own accord to remain loyal to the Union. Let us hope and pray that that is the end of it.”
Sam shook his hand and headed out to the street, praying silently but most fervently that Dr. Stanton’s words would prove true. But the sinking feeling in his heart warned him that there was far more trouble awaiting them still.
From a crack in the kitchen door Julia had seen Samuel’s broad back as he talked to her father. She had not been able to hear what they said. She wondered if he had told her father of their broken engagement. She wondered if Samuel had taken that moment to seek his advice on how to win her back.
Well, he won’t win me back. He has proven his intentions. I will stand on my convictions whether he comes to chop wood or not.
From her vantage point she watched him shake hands with her father. Then as Samuel turned, Julia let the door close. She returned quickly to the stove. As she stood stirring the chicken soup, she heard the front door shut.
She peeked out the window. Samuel was walking down the street in the direction of the harbor. His hands were thrust deep in his pockets. His topper was set low on his forehead but she could tell he was deep in thought. Was he thinking of Edward? Was he thinking of her?
Her father came into the kitchen. Julia immediately left the window.
“He has gone to have a look about the city,” he said, knowing exactly whom she was staring after. “Now, do you want to tell me what is going on?”
Julia turned from the stove to look at her father. She could tell that he had also endured a long, sleepless night. Tired lines were prevalent on his face. His left leg, which had been injured in a carriage accident years before, must have been bothering him. He was favoring it.
“I am making soup for Mother,” she explained.
“I’m not talking about soup, Julia.”
Her father’s tone was firm, almost scolding.
Samuel has talked to him, she thought. I knew he would. “He told you, didn’t he?”
“He?” Her father repeated, eyebrows arched. “I assume you mean Sam. And no, he didn’t tell me anything. It was your indifference toward him when you came asking about the wood that caught my attention. Now what is going on?”
Julia could feel her cheeks reddening. She knew her father liked Samuel. He always had. Would he understand her position? Would he support her decision?
She stirred the soup once more, stalling, searching for words.
Her father was drumming his fingers on the kitchen table. She knew he would not leave until she had given him an answer.
I will have to make it known sooner or later. It might as well be now, she thought. “I have decided not to marry him.”
The drumming stopped. “Does he know this?” her father asked.
Julia kept her eyes on the soup. Little bits of carrots and chicken were floating in the broth. “Yes. He knows.”
He grunted. Then there were several seconds of silence. “When did you decide this?” he asked.
Julia put down her spoon. It was obvious that her business in the kitchen was not going to deter her father’s questioning. “Last night.”
“Last night?”
“I told him so when Edward—” Fresh grief over her brother’s enlistment choked her voice. She looked at her father, hoping her eyes could convey the rest. Surely you must feel the same.
Her father drew in a deep breath. “I see. Is this about you and Sam or is it about Edward?”
“It is both,” she admitted. “You have seen what has happened here. That day at the train station… Father, the soldiers fired upon us! Our fellow citizens were killed!”
“I know, Julia. I treated the wounded.”
“Yes, and Edward has decided to do something! He’s gone to Virginia to fight. But Samuel, he won’t go! He won’t defend what he says he cares about!”
“Because he won’t go to Virginia?” Her father sighed. “Perhaps I set a poor example. Perhaps I remained neutral on this issue for too long. The issue of States’ Rights, slavery included, never affected us.”
“They affect you now,” she said, “or they soon will. Northern soldiers have guns turned on this very neighborhood. If we don’t stand against them, how can we ever be safe again?”
“And you think Samuel joining the Confederacy will change all of that?”
She blinked, not knowing how to answer.
Her father continued. “Sam has traveled. He has experienced life and drawn from others’ life experiences. As a result, he carries a wider perspective of the world. He has spoken to me a few times about a man named Frederick Douglass.”
“Yes, I know. The man from Boston. He mentioned him once.”
The subject of slavery may have been a contentious topic in the nation for years but not so in the Stanton household. Julia’s family did not own any slaves and none of their closest friends did either. Julia had never truly formed an opinion on the subject—and saw no need to now. The plight of a man living in Boston mattered very little to her compared to the safety of her family and friends right here in Maryland.
“Did he tell you he is a former slave?” her father asked. “A former Maryland slave?”
“No.”
“Well, perhaps he wished to spare you the indelicate details. The things he spoke of have given me cause to think.” He paused. “Rights are all fine and good until they infringe on the rights of others.”
Julia shook her head. She still didn’t see what that had to do with anything here in Mount Vernon. “But what about the soldiers?”
“I don’t like their presence any more than you. Sam doesn’t either, for that matter. But, given the scope, the turmoil that this nation is now facing, I understand why they thought it necessary to occupy Baltimore.”
Julia let out a disgusted sigh. Her father had always encouraged her and Edward to express their own opinions. She did so now. “How can you even say that? What if their occupation leads to more trouble on the streets? It won’t be safe for Mother or me to venture outside.”
“Soldiers follow the orders of their commanding officers, of the president. The Bible tells us to pray for those in authority over us. If the military leaders remain honorable then we have nothing to fear.” Then he added, “As for your honor, should the worst come, I have no doubt that Samuel Ward would give his life to protect you.”
She felt her chin begin to quiver. Samuel had promised her such but she didn’t believe him. He had professed loyalty to her family as well; yet he had abandoned her brother when he needed him most.
“Edward and Sam are two very different men,” Dr. Stanton said. “They always have been. You know that better than anyone. Their friendship worked because they complemented each other’s strengths, each other’s weaknesses. They accepted one another’s differences.”
Scenes of years past flashed through her mind. Edward and Samuel had been schoolmates and best friends for as long as she could remember. Tears filled her eyes when she thought about what their relationship had become.
“And now?” she asked.
“Disagreements come to every relationship, some large, some small. It is how those disagreements are navigated that determines the future course of the relationship.”
Silence hung heavily. Like the steam from the stove pot, it permeated the kitchen. Finally, her father asked, “Is that soup ready?”
Julia had nearly forgotten it. She removed it from the heat. “It’s ready.”
“Then I will take a bowl up to your mother.”
She filled a dish and placed it on a tray. Then she sliced up a loaf of bread, buttered it and laid it with the soup. She handed it to her father.
“Thank you, child.” Then he turned for the door.
Julia was left alone to think about what he had said.
