Red Rock: A Chronicle of Reconstruction Read online

  CHAPTER V

  DR. CARY RETURNS FROM THE WAR, AND TAKES AN INVENTORY OF STOCK

  The home-coming of the men who went to the war was about the same timeof the year that most of them went forth. While the troops of thevictorious army were parading amid the acclaims of multitudes, theremnants of that other army that had met and defeated them so oftenwere making their way back to their dismantled homes, with everythingthey had fought for lost, save honor. They came home singly or insquads from northward, eastward and westward, wherever their commandshappened to be when the final collapse came. And but for certainphysical landmarks they would scarcely have known the old neighborhood.The blue mountains still stretched across the skyline, with the nearerspurs nestled at their feet; the streams still ran through the littlevalleys between the hills, under their willows and sycamores, as theyran when Steve Allen and Jacquelin and the other boys fished and swamin them; but the bridges were gone, and the fishing-holes were dammedwith fallen trees, some of them cut down during the battles that hadbeen fought on their banks. And the roads made by the army-wagonsoften turned out through the unfenced fields and the pillaged andfire-scorched forests.

  Dr. Cary, now known as Major Cary, from his title as surgeon in GeneralLegaie’s brigade, and Captain Allen and Sergeant Stamper came hometogether as they had ridden away together through the April haze fouryears before. They had started from the place of their surrender witha considerable company, who had dropped off from time to time as theyhad arrived at the roads which took them their several ways, and thesethree were the last to separate. When they parted, it was at the forkswhere the old brick church had stood when they last passed that way.The church had gone down in the track of war. Nothing remained of itnow except fragments of the walls, and even these were already halfhidden by the thicket which had grown up around them. It brought thewhole situation very close home to them; for they all had memoriesof it: Dr. Cary had buried his father and mother there, and Stamperand Delia Dove had been married in it a year before. And they did nothave a great many words to speak—perhaps, none at all at the verylast—only a “Well—Well!” with a rising inflection, and something likea sigh; and then, after a long pause, from the older officer, a sudden:“Well, good-by, Steve;—good-by, Sergeant. We’ll have to begin overagain.—God bless you—Come over and see me. Good-by.” And from eachof the other two, “Good-by, Major—I will;—Good-by, Tarquin,” to theMajor’s tall, gray-haired body-servant, waiting silently, on his wearyhorse; then a couple of hard handgrips and silence; and the horseswent plashing off in the mud, slow and sullen, reluctant to leave eachother. All turned once to look back; caught each other’s glances andwaved their hands; and then rode on through the mud, their heads sunkon their chests, and the officer’s two body-servants, old Tarquin andyoung Jerry, following silently behind their masters.

  The meeting at home was in the dusk.

  The little group waiting on the hill-top at Dr. Cary’s for the smallcavalcade as they rode up through the waning light had been waiting andwatching for days; but there were no words spoken at the meeting. Only,Mrs. Cary walked out from the others and met her husband a part of theway down the hill, and Blair followed her a moment after.

  When the doctor reached his door, walking between his wife anddaughter, an arm around each, he turned to his old servant, who washolding the horses:

  “Tarquin, you are free. I present you the horse you rode home. Take thesaddles off, and turn them out.” And he walked into the house, shakingby the hand the servants clustered about the door.

  It was only when he was inside, facing the portrait of a young boy withhandsome, dark eyes, that he gave way.

  The very next day Dr. Cary, to use a commercial phrase, began to “takestock.”

  “Taking stock” is always a serious thing to do, and it must come ofteninto every thoughtful man’s life. He is his own ledger. In all cases hemust look back and measure himself by himself. Perhaps some hour bringshim some question on which all must hinge. It may come unexpectedly,or he may have seen it advancing with inevitable steps. He may havebrought it on himself, or he may have fought strenuously against it. Itis all the same. It comes straight down upon him, a cyclone threateningto overwhelm him, and he must meet it either as a brave man or acraven. It comes, sweeps past or over him and leaves him in its track,unscathed or wounded or slain. But it comes. And this is Life. Theancients called it Fate; we call it Providence or Chance, or the resultof natural laws. But by whatever name known, it is inscrutable.

  So Dr. Cary felt that soft spring morning as he stood on the frontporch of the roomy and rambling old mansion, where the Carys had hadtheir seat and had made the Birdwood hospitality celebrated for morethan two hundred years, and looked across the wide lawn, once welltrimmed and filled with shrubbery and flowers, now ragged and torn. Hiseye took in the whole scene. The wide fields, once teeming with life,stretched before him now empty and silent; the fences were broken downor had disappeared altogether. And yet the grass was fresh and green,the trees and bushes were just bursting from bud to leaf; the far-offmountains rose blue and tender across the newly washed sky; the birdswere flitting and singing joyously, and somewhere, around the house,a young girl’s voice was singing sweeter than any of the birds. Thelook on the old soldier’s face was for a moment one of deep gravity,if not of dejection; but it passed away the next instant, as Blair’ssong reached him and as a step sounded behind him, and a hand was laidlightly on his shoulder, followed by an even softer touch on his arm,as his wife’s face rested for a moment against it. At the caressingtouch his expression changed, he looked down in her eyes and, when hespoke, it was with a new light in his own eyes and a new tone in hisvoice.

  “Well, Bess, we’ll begin all over again. We have each other, and wehave Blair, and we have—the land. It is as much as our forefathersbegan with. At least, I think we have the land—I don’t suppose they’lltake that away. If they do—why, we have each other and Blair, anyhow.If we only had the boy!” He turned his face away.

  “He died for his country,” said the mother, though her voice belied thecourage of her words.

  “He died like a soldier: with all his wounds before.” He looked downinto his wife’s eyes.

  “Yes.” And she sighed deeply.

  “We have to take care of what’s left. Where is Jim Sherwood? I have notseen him.”

  “He has gone.”

  “What!” The Doctor gave a whistle of amazement. “I’d almost as soonhave expected Mammy Krenda and Tarquin to leave.” Jim was one of themost trusted men about the place, a sort of preacher and leader, andhad married, as his third wife, Mammy Krenda’s daughter, Jane.

  “Yes, Jim has gone. He went two weeks ago, and I was rather glad hewent,” said Mrs. Cary. “He had never been quite the same since theYankees came through; you know he behaved very badly then. He hadchanged more than almost anyone of them who remained. He had beenpreaching a good deal lately, and appeared to be stirring the othersup more than I liked. There seemed to have been some influence at workamong them that I could not understand. It was said that Mr. Still,Helen’s manager—But I don’t know,”—she broke off. “I heard them onenight, at the house, and went out to the church where they were, andfound them in a great state of excitement. They quieted down when Iappeared. That repulsive creature, Mr. Gray’s Moses, was there, andI ordered him home, and gave them a talk, and the next morning JimSherwood was missing too, and a few days later Jane said that she hadto go also. I told them they were free, but if they remained here theymust observe my regulations. I put Gideon in charge and told him youwould look to him to keep order till you came. And he has done so tothe best of his ability, I believe. I hear that he gave Jim Sherwoodto understand that he would have no more of his preaching here for thepresent, and that if he wanted to preach for Hiram Still he could go toRed Rock and do it, not here. And now you are here, this is the end ofmy stewardship, and I surrender it into your hands.”

  She made her husband, half-mockingly, a profound
curtsey—perhaps toturn off the serious thoughts which her words called up. But the Doctordeclared that, at least, one of her slaves recognized too well theblessing of servitude to such a mistress to wish for freedom, and thathe declined to assume control.

  “Why, Bess, we men fought a quarter of the war and you women foughtthree-quarters. Do you imagine we want to depose you?”

  Just then a young girl came around the corner of the house, her darkeyes full of light; her hair blown back from her forehead by themorning breeze, and her hands full of jonquils and other early flowers.Her face was glowing with the exercise she has been taking, and herwhole person was radiant with youth.

  “The morn is breaking. Here comes Aurora,” said her father, gazing ather fondly, at which Miss Blair’s cheeks glowed only the more.

  It was proposed by the Doctor that they should invite to dinner such oftheir friends as had arrived at home and could be reached.

  “Our first reunion,” said Mrs. Cary, smiling, and she began to givewhat she called her ménu, in which, corn-bread, dried fruit, black-eyedpease, and welcome figured as the principal dishes. She laughed at herhusband’s dumb amazement.

  “Bess,” said the Doctor, humbly, “I retract what I said a little whileago about our having fought a fourth of the war—it was the speech of abraggart.” And having followed her with his eyes, as she went into thehouse, he walked around to have a talk with his negroes.

  He found a number of them congregated and evidently expecting somethingof the kind.

  “Gideon, tell the men I wish to speak to them.”

  In fifteen minutes they had collected. He called them all up, andstanding on the portico of the office where he had been accustomed tospeak with them, addressed a few calm words to them.

  For a moment he went over the past. They had been faithful servants, hesaid. And he was glad to be able to say this to them. Now there were tobe new relations between them. He told them they were free—on whichthere was an audible murmur of acquiescence—and they could leave, ifthey pleased. There was another murmur of satisfaction. But if theyremained they would have to work and be subject to his authority.

  Upon this many of the older ones signified their assent, while some ofthe others turned and, looking back, called to some one in the rear ofthe crowd:

  “Come, Brer Sherrod, you done heah de noration; now come and gi’ de’sponse.”

  A low, stout negro, of middle age, whom the Doctor had not beforenoticed, came forward somewhat sheepishly, but with a certain swaggerin his gait. It was evidently concerted. The Doctor’s mind actedquickly. At the speaker’s first word, he cut him short.

  “I decline to allow Jim Sherwood to be the spokesman,” he said. “Hedoes not belong here. I left him in a position of trust, and he hasfailed in it. Fall to the rear; I make no terms with outsiders.”

  Taken by surprise at the tone of authority, the exhorter fell or wasmoved back, in sudden confusion, while the doctor went on:

  “Gideon, I appoint you; you have proved trustworthy. This place hassupported two hundred souls in the past, and we can make it do soagain. Tell them that all those who remain here and work under you,including Sherwood, shall be supported and treated fairly and paid whatis proper if it takes every acre I have to do it; the others can go andfind homes elsewhere.” He turned on his heel and walked into the house.

  The next day there was a good force at work in the fields.

  Some of those he had addressed had gone off in the night; but most ofthem remained, and the Doctor told Mrs. Cary he thought things wouldwork out all right; he was ready to accept present conditions, andmatters would adjust themselves.

  “Time is the adjuster,” he said.