Mockingbird's Call (7 page)

Seven

As he walked across the campus, Jared pulled up the collar of his greatcoat. The rough wool scratched his chin, but the material kept cold air from reaching his neck. He waved at one of the freshmen as they passed each other but did not stop to talk. It was far too brisk out this morning, and he wanted to get to class in plenty of time to hear the lecture. He lowered his head and trudged onward through the cool, morning air.

“Wait up.” Benjamin's deep voice drew his attention from the frosty ground.

Jared looked over his shoulder and let out an exasperated sigh. “I thought you were going to march with the early parade and go to Whitsell's makeup class since you performed so poorly on that last geography exam.”

A shrug answered him. Benjamin's mischievous grin appeared, raising Jared's suspicions. “Maybe I wanted to hear the infamous newspaper editor.”

“I wish William Brownlow had been able to come.” Jared turned back to the pathway leading to North College, the name given to the northernmost building of the university.

Benjamin caught up with him and slung an arm over his shoulder. “I know. But after all the strife he was igniting with the anti-secession views in his newspaper, it's no wonder he had to run for his life. If the people of East Tennessee had gotten their way, you and I would be Unionists instead of Johnny Rebs. Since the occupation of the Confederate Army, things have been tense between the two groups, and his inflammatory pieces weren't helping much.”

“Inflammatory pieces?” Jared shook off his friend's arm. “Didn't he have the right to print what he believed?”

“Don't get angry with me.” Benjamin raised both his hands as if he was preparing to ward off a blow. “I didn't say there wasn't some truth in his articles, but you read them. In fact you read several of them to me. You have to admit Parson Brownlow doesn't know the meaning of tact.”

“It's not a newspaper's job to be tactful. Every newspaper has a duty to inform its readers of the facts. Don't you remember studying Thomas Carlyle's reference to reporters as the Fourth Estate? He believed it was more important than the church, the nobility, or the middle class. Although I disagree with his putting journalists above the importance of the church, I do believe they hold great power and even greater responsibility, especially now that we are at war.” Jared realized he'd stopped walking. He was going to be late. And he'd wanted to be early. “I don't want to debate this with you, Benjamin. I'm going to class. I'm sure Martin Stone has a lot to say about the importance of newspaper publishing. He is the editor of the
Tennessee Tribune
, and it's become the largest publication since Brownlow's
Whig
was put out of business.” He started walking again.

“You're right.” Benjamin matched his pace. “Why do you think I decided to tag along this morning?”

Jared didn't answer. He reached the steps of North College and bounded up them two at a time. He pulled open the heavy door and held it open for Benjamin to precede him. “I don't really know why you're here. You've never shown the least interest in writing.”

Benjamin pushed his chest out. “I'm turning over a new leaf. I'm going to concentrate on writing.” He linked his arm through Jared's as they climbed the stairs to the second floor. “Maybe we can open a newspaper of our own. Isn't that how your hero Brownlow got started? Then we can publish our own beliefs and change the world.”

A snort escaped Jared. “Don't you remember how you struggled over that essay last week? I doubt you are eager to become a writer.”

“Maybe you could do the writing.” Benjamin grinned at him. “And I can manage the other aspects of the business. Think of how famous we'll be when
our
efforts end the war.”

Benjamin's words seemed to echo in the wide hallway. Jared was reminded of his belief that words really could make a difference. Excitement buzzed through him. “The pen is mightier than the sword, right?”

“I don't know about all that,” Benjamin answered. “But it's certainly much lighter to wield.”

❧

Amelia sneaked down to the barn before joining her aunt and uncle at the breakfast table. Little Nebo's forehead was hot, but that was to be expected. She coaxed him to drink another draught of the willow bark tea Melek's mother, the cook, had prepared. When she pulled away the bandage covering his arm, she was relieved to see it was not swollen or draining. She glanced at Melek, who watched her from one corner of the tack room.

Melek asked, “What is your opinion, little mockingbird?”

“I think he will recover.”

“Can he travel today?”

She shook her head as she replaced the dressing. “He needs sleep to fully recover.”

“If he is caught here, his captors will not be concerned about his rest.”

Amelia's lips straightened. “Would you rather kill him yourself by moving him too soon?”

Silence was her only answer. She finished her work and looked around. At least six people crowded in the little room. “Does anyone else need my help?”

Declining whispers and headshakes answered her. Amelia pushed herself up from the pallet holding Nebo and closed her bag of medicines.

Melek escorted her from the room. “Thank you.”

“I will check back later.”

“No. You must stay away or your family may become suspicious.”

His warning echoed in her mind as Amelia hurried to the breakfast room. She seated herself and bowed her head briefly over the plate that was set in front of her. When she had finished blessing her food, she listened to her uncle's latest diatribe.

“I'm afraid women simply don't understand these things.” Uncle Francis's comment was not intended to irritate Amelia, but that's the effect it had. Her mouth dropped open, but he continued on, oblivious to her consternation. “Tennessee had no choice but to secede from the Union when
Lincoln called for troops to fight against our brothers at Fort Sumter.”

A thousand emotional retorts filled her imagination, but Amelia opted for logic. “Then why did Kentucky refuse to follow our lead?”

Uncle Francis shook his head and glanced toward Aunt Laura before answering Amelia's question. “My dear, suffice it to say Kentucky has many reasons to declare neutrality. Politics are often convoluted. Better to ask whether our brothers in Kentucky wish to abolish slavery. The answer would be a resounding no.” He folded the newspaper he'd been reading and slapped it against the table for emphasis. “I have little doubt Kentucky will bow to the inevitable before the end of the year and join the Confederacy.”

“I'm sure you're right, my dear.” Aunt Laura washed a bite of toast down with her cup of tea. “If the war lasts that long. I pray every night it will end before any more young men are killed or wounded. I'm so concerned about our son's eagerness to join the fighting.”

“I don't want to see him enlist any more than you do, but Benjamin is a grown man. We raised him to take pride in his heritage.” Uncle Francis reached a hand across the table, palm up. “We must allow him to make his own decisions even if we'd prefer to keep him safe at home.”

Aunt Laura placed her hand in his. The look that passed between them was full of love and tenderness.

A rush of empathy filled Amelia. Her aunt and uncle were good people. They were obviously worried about their son's future. And hadn't they welcomed her with open arms? They'd made sure she was introduced to all the right people. She appreciated the lavish ball they'd thrown for her birthday and felt more than a little guilt over helping the escaping slaves when she knew her relatives would never approve of her actions.

Aunt Laura pulled her hand away and turned her gaze to Amelia. Her eyes were suspiciously bright, but she cleared her throat and forced her lips into a shaky smile. “What do you have planned for today, my dear?”

Amelia was thankful for the change of subject. “Luke Tal
bot is supposed to come over later this morning. We are going rid
ing in the park.”

“That Talbot fellow is getting to be a regular visitor.” Uncle Francis raised his eyebrows. “I don't know when he has time for studies.”

A blush crept up Amelia's throat and heated her face. “Luke has always been like an older brother to me.”

“Yes, I thought at first that was his reason for coming over, to make sure you were comfortable in your new surroundings.” Aunt Laura's smile widened. “But you have been with us for almost two months now. He must have some other compelling reason to continue his attentions.”

“Why would he not?” Uncle Francis winked at his wife. “Our niece is as pretty as a picture and sweet natured to boot. Half the young men in Knoxville are trying to turn her head.”

Amelia pressed a hand against her hot cheek. “You're the one turning my head, Uncle. I'm sure the only reason they are interested is because I am a novelty.”

“Has your new riding habit arrived, dear?”

“Yes, ma'am. It's lovely.” Amelia poured her enthusiasm for the new ensemble into her voice. “I can hardly wait to wear it.” She thought of the short braided jacket and white garibaldi shirt that lent the riding outfit a militaristic appearance. The skirt was long and full to allow her freedom, whether she was seated on a horse or walking.

“I'm sure you'll cut quite the figure.” Uncle Francis's voice was warm to match his smile. “The other young ladies had better look to their swains, or they are likely to lose them.”

Amelia pushed back her chair and ran to hug her uncle. “You are undoubtedly prejudiced, but
I appreciate your kind words.”

“Go on, child.” He laughed and shooed her out of the room.

Her conscience, which had been tempora
rily silenced by the affection of her aunt and uncle, roared once again as she saw the front page of the paper lying on the table. It was full of advertisements seeking information on runaway slaves and promising huge rewards for their return. As she trudged up
stairs, Amelia wondered how she would ever reconcile her world with her morals and her faith.

Tabitha was waiting for her in the bedroom and helped Amelia don her new riding habit. Her admiring gaze met Amelia's in the mirror. “You do look a sight.”

A heavy sigh filled Amelia's chest and escaped her in a rush. She was the most hypocritical creature on the planet. Here she was concentrating on new clothes when there was so much she ought to be doing instead.

“Whatever is the matter with you today?”

Amelia turned and faced Tabitha. “How can you stay here with me?”

“I. . .I don't know what you mean.”

“Don't be ridiculous, Tabitha. I know you too well. You're smart and pretty. You must have thought about running away.”

Tabitha turned away and busied herself with folding Amelia's nightgown and wrapper before storing them in the cedar chiffonier next to her dressing table.

“Don't you want to leave this household and taste freedom for yourself? Don't you want to use the Underground Railroad? Meet someone special? Start a family and know that your children and your children's children will grow up safe and able to determine their own futures?”

Tabitha turned to look at her, a frown marring her wide brow. “Of course I've thought of it.” She paused as if considering her words. “Not everyone is as brave as you.”

“Brave?” Now it was Amelia's turn to frown. “I'm not brave at all. In fact, I have been wondering all morning why I do nothing to fight against a system that I abhor.”

“It was brave of you to risk your reputation to help Melek and the others last night.”

“Yes, I risked my reputation. But that's nothing compared to you and the others. You risked your very lives. If I had been caught, my aunt and uncle would have been scandalized—they might have even returned me to my parents. I can understand Cook helping her son. But you and the other slaves will most likely be hung for your involvement if you're discovered aiding Melek.”

“We all risk a great deal.” Tabitha walked to the birdcage and pulled off its cover. Amelia's mockingbird hopped onto its perch and opened its beak. A song as bright as the sun outside filled the bedroom. “But it was worth the risk to know they will soon live free.”

Amelia's breath caught. “That's what I mean. Don't you want to go with them? Don't you want to experience freedom and not live in fear?”

Tabitha giggled. “I don't fear you. Aren't we friends? Didn't you teach me to read? I am content to stay where I am for now.”

“I wish I could find my own way to contentment.”

Tabitha laughed.

“What?” asked Amelia, hurt that her friend was making light of something that bothered her so.

“I don't know. It seems funny to me that you have so much and yet complain that you are not content.” She stopped and looked at Amelia. “We are both blessed. We live in a beautiful house, we have full bellies, and we're surrounded by friends.”

“Yes. I know I should be counting my blessings. And yet how can I when I am part of a culture that treats human beings as property?” She pointed to the wide four-poster piled high with feather mattresses and quilts. “Slaves have no more right to demand consideration than that bed over there.”

Tabitha's eyes narrowed. “ ‘Who knoweth whether thou art come to the kingdom for such a time as this?' ”

The biblical quote shocked Amelia into silence. Was God planning to use her as He had used Esther? Could she be instrumental in the deliverance of slaves? Hope blossomed in her chest like an early spring. A little voice, her conscience perhaps, whispered that she could not be chosen. People who were chosen were not so riddled with doubt. “I don't have the ear of President Jefferson Davis. I can do very little.”