Part 9 (1/2)
”Tomorrow's Christmas. Get yourself cleaned up-and you be on time for a change-don't go breaking your mother's heart by disappearing again.”
”Yes, sir.” Henry started up the stairs.
”Henry . . .”
He turned.
”I reckon Florence won't mind having Isaac here for a few days. You can take him back to Milton before you head up to West Point next week.”
”Yes, sir. Thank you, Papa.”
”Get on, now, and have Tempie pour you a bath.” Morgan shooed him away. ”You smell worse than a week old possum carca.s.s.”
_____.
Sunlight sparkled on the frost covered lawn. Henry dressed quickly and bounded down the stairs to the front parlor. The family was gathered around a Christmas tree bedecked with strings of popped corn, garlands of colored paper, and candied fruits. Polly, Tempie, and Joseph sat on the floor. Isaac, Abraham, and Florence stood in the archway leading to the dining room. Patrick took a seat on the sofa. Morgan was in his usual chair.
”Good morning, Henry. Merry Christmas!” Ella smiled from her rocker.
”Here, this is for you, Henry.” Polly handed him a package.
He took a seat beside his brother and unwrapped the box.
”For the cold New York winter,” Polly explained.
Henry smiled, holding up a pair of woolen stockings. ”Thank you, sister. My toes will remember your kindness.”
Morgan opened a present from Ella, a pair of chamois-skin riding gauntlets embroidered in red silk with his monogram.
Gifts pa.s.sed from hand to hand. Tempie seemed delighted with a hand-me-down dress from Polly. She held it in front of her, turning for all to admire. Joseph excitedly accepted the wooden top that had pa.s.sed from Patrick to Henry, then to Polly. Now it was his. The string had been replaced and the paint was faded, but otherwise it was in fine condition. Patrick got on the floor and showed him how to make it work. Everyone clapped when Joseph pulled the string, spinning the top across the wooden floor.
Henry offered Polly a small box. With a questioning look she opened the package. Inside was a pale yellow stationary with a single flower in the upper right corner of every sheet.
”So you can keep me posted on happenings around here while I'm out in the Indian territories with my cavalry troop,” Henry said.
Polly smiled. ”You always think of the nicest gifts. I'll write you every month *til the stationary runs out. You'll know it's from me by these pretty yellow envelopes.”
Abraham stepped forward, clearing his throat. ”Uh, Miss Ella? I done fixed you up a shelf for your tea service.” He reached behind the archway and pulled out a honey pine shelf with a plate groove cut across the top. ”If'n you likes, it can be hanging in the dining room before dinner.”
”Oh, Abraham, it is lovely!” Ella clasped her hands together. ”Yes, yes, go put it up right now. I would dearly love to see my teacups and saucers on display when we sit down to our Christmas dinner.”
”No university educated gentleman should be without a proper ledger set,” Henry said, handing his brother a dark mahogany box with bra.s.s hinges. Patrick opened the lid, revealing styluses, an ink well, extra nibs, and a supply of paper.
”I'm not looking for letters, dear brother,” Henry said with a smile, ”just an accurate accounting of our tobacco sales.”
”Like you'd know if the figures were close by even ten acres worth,” Patrick chided him.
”That's a mighty fine gift,” Morgan said, pointing to the lap desk. ”Is the army giving you an extra allowance these days?”
Henry smiled. ”A cadet from Boston wagered that desk against my riding boots that he could out-jump me on horseback. He figured himself a better horseman than any Yankee I've ever seen.”
Morgan and Patrick laughed.
”Quiet! All of you!” Ella stared at Henry. ”You know I don't hold with gambling. It's the devil's play.”
Patrick slapped Henry on the shoulder. ”It ain't gambling, Mother, not if there's no chance of losing.”
Her face turned crimson as the room filled with laughter. ”You hush, Patrick McConnell. You're encouraging your brother's bad habits. Now all of you, go get ready for breakfast.” She turned to Florence. ”We will be seated within the quarter hour. Kindly finish the preparations.”
_____.
The afternoon sun caught the tops of the bare trees in its fading light. Slaves sang as they returned to the quarters carrying bundles of new clothes, shoes, and sacks of flour and sugar--all gifts from their owners. Henry stood in the doorway. ”Good Christmas, don't you reckon?”
Isaac nodded as he sat, dangling his legs over the side of the porch. Being home had made it special.
”Got something for you,” Henry said as sat down beside Isaac. ”Didn't want to give it to you this morning in front of everybody. Anyway, figured you were tired of those children's books, so . . .” He handed him a sack.
Isaac reached in the bag and withdrew a clothbound book. On its cover was a man dressed in rags wearing a broad-brimmed gra.s.s hat.
”Rob-robin . . .” Isaac's finger followed the letters as he tried to sound out the words. ”Robinson, Robinson Crusoe?” He looked at Henry.
”Yes. It's about a fellow who gets kidnapped by pirates and then he's marooned on an island. He finds himself a native fellow he names, *Friday.' Reminded me of us. Now, don't let Papa or Patrick catch you with it.”
”I'll be careful.” Isaac tucked the book under his s.h.i.+rt. ”I ain't got no present for you.”
”Having you home for Christmas was present enough. Now get, before somebody sees you with that book.”
_____.
Isaac set his foot in the stirrup and swung into the saddle.
”Go on down by the quarters and say your good byes,” Henry said. ”I'm going to see if your mama has some biscuits I can take along for the ride. I'll catch up.”
Isaac waved and turned his horse. ”I'll be waiting by the post road.”
He rode slowly down the lane, turning into the clearing where a few slaves sat in the morning sun mending tools. Others were busy hanging wash or cooking in large cast iron pots over the campfire.
”Hey there, Banjo,” Isaac called out. ”Hey, Aunt Lilly. Y'all take care *til I gets back this way.”
”You stay safe down there in North Carolina, you hear?” Lilly shook out a quilt as she spoke and hung it across the top rail of the fence.
Isaac studied the quilt's pattern. Embroidered on a four-inch square of cloth toward the top was a star. Through the center a vine made of rags wound its way around the other squares, each with their own unique design. The outer squares added a colorful border. To the white folks, it was a simple bed rug, but to those on the run was a map to the Promised Land.
Isaac cautiously scanned the grounds, then lowered his voice. ”Freedom Train running tonight?”
”Sh-h-h. No telling what ears might be listening.” Lilly stepped closer. ”A feller from over Danville way is running. I's hanging the quilt in case he pa.s.ses this way needing directions. Pattyrollers be out and about too, so you watch yourself.”