Spring Will Come (35 page)

             
Rose looked up then hurried on. “I’ll bring you another book this evening,” she called over her shoulder.  It was like this every morning.  The people in the camps, thrilled to have someone of their own race as a teacher, had embraced her whole-heartedly.  She, in return, was giving them everything she could. 

             
“Miss Rose, you still coming to our house for supper tonight?” one little girl asked shyly as soon as Rose appeared on the porch.

             
Rose knelt down and smiled at her.  “I wouldn’t miss it for anything, Annie.  Is your mama sure I can’t bring something?”

             
“Yes, ma’am,” Annie replied anxiously, her long black braids bobbing as she nodded her head.  Her thin face, made thinner by giant black eyes, revealed her excitement.  “My mama said you was just to come.  I reckon she’ll be cooking all day - in between doing wash for the army, that is.”

             
“I’m looking forward to it,” Rose promised.  Then, “Did you read your book last night?”

             
“Yessum!  I read everything you told me.  Did you know the world ain’t flat, Miss Rose?  I been looking at that ocean for a few weeks now and figured sure enough those boats must just drop off the end if they go too far.   According to this book you gave me, though, the world ain’t flat.  You really think that’s true?  That the world is round?”

             
“Yes, Annie.  I think that’s true.  The world is round.  Just like the book says.”

             
“Well, what keeps things from dropping off when they get to the bottom side?”  Her voice was deadly serious.  “I watched a bug crawl around a plum the other day.  He dropped off when he got to the bottom.  I reckon people must live on the top part of the earth.”  She seemed relieved to have solved her problem.

             
Rose smiled.  “People live all over the earth, Annie.  A thing called gravity keeps them from falling off.” 

             
“Gravity?  What be that?”

             
The long day passed in a flash. 

Rose was tired but happy as she moved down the lane toward Annie’s house.   There were not many nights she did not share a meal with one of her students.  There was a great competition to see whose invitation she would accept next.  The white teachers ate with their students, too, but not as often. 

              Annie’s family had a small plank structure on the outskirts of the camp.  The superintendent had managed to find ten acres of land for Annie’s father to farm.  Rose knew the association was fighting for more refugees to be given land to farm.  As she neared the simple home, Annie ran from the door and raced down the road toward her.

             
“Miss Rose!  Miss Rose!”  Soon her whole family had gathered on the porch.

             
Rose looked around appreciatively as she gathered Annie in her arms and then took her hand as they walked the rest of the way together.  The rich dark soil had been well-worked, and a variety of vegetables grew toward the sky.  Rose’s mouth began to water. 

             
“Hello, Amos.  Hello, Harriet.”  Rose smiled and then examined the faces of her hosts.  They were smiling, but their faces and eyes were clouded with tension.  “Is something wrong?” she asked quietly, her heart suddenly heavy with foreboding.

             
Amos was the first to speak.  “Them soldier fellows are at it again,” he stated bitterly. 

             
“Now, ain’t all the soldiers bad,” Harriet protested. 

             
“Didn’t say they was,” Amos snapped.  “But they be enough of the bad ones to cause a passel of trouble.”

             
“What happened?” Rose asked then glanced at the children.

             
Amos noticed.  “The children know what’s going on.  Ain’t good to hide trouble from kids. They won’t be on their guard when it comes close to them.”

             
Rose recognized one of the truths of slavery.  Everyone, even children, had to be prepared for hurt and pain.  She waited for Amos to tell her what had happened. 

             
“A friend of mine - fella who ran off from the same plantation as me been farming not too far from here.  Him and some other fellas used they own money to work and plant ‘bout sixty acres.  This afternoon, some Union general - I think his name be Burnside - came through with his troops.  Them soldiers done destroyed nearly all their crops!”

             
“But why?” Rose exclaimed, knowing the answer before Amos gave it.

             
“There be a powerful lot of hate in them Union folks, too,” Amos growled bitterly.  “I reckon there ain’t never going to be a time we ain’t gonna have to fight for things.”

             
Rose wanted to contradict him, but she was too sure he was right.  Anger threatened to overwhelm her as she thought of all the hard work needlessly ruined.  How many people would go hungry because those crops were destroyed?  “I’ll talk to the superintendent,” she promised. 

             
“Oh, I done went and talked to him.  He’s a good man.  He’ll do what he can.  Trouble is you can’t control all them soldiers.”  He looked around his own farm with a sigh.  “I been lucky so far.  I wonder how long it will last?”

             
Annie sidled up to Rose.  “Do people really hate me just cause I’m black?”

             
Rose knelt quickly, her heart constricting.  “Yes, honey, there are some people who will hate you just because you’re black.  Some people are ignorant and just don’t know better.  But there are a lot of good, kind white people out there, too,” she hastened to add.  “White people who are fighting for us to be free.  White people who are sending books down here so you can learn.  White people who are raising money to help you eat.  Why, it was a white person who made it possible for these very camps to exist.  He was a general just like the man who destroyed the crops.” 

             
“We got white teachers, too,” Annie said in a thoughtful voice.

             
Rose breathed a sigh of relief.  More than anything she did not want the people in the camps to learn to distrust all Northern whites because of the activities of some.  She nodded.  “That’s right, honey.  Being good or bad isn’t a color thing.  It’s a heart thing.  We all have to work on our hearts.”

             
Amos was still angry.  “I’ll work on my heart.  But I’ll also work on some Yankee soldiers if they come near my place.  I spend all day working for that army.  I don’t reckon I’m going to let them walk all over me.  I ran away from slavery so’s I wouldn’t have no one walking on me.”

             
Rose didn’t answer.  She understood his anger.  Placing her hand on Annie’s shoulder, she said, “Now, how about we go inside and taste your mama’s good cooking?”  She exchanged a long look with Harriet.  Perhaps the meal would help them forget today’s bad news.

             
Annie smiled and took her teacher’s hand, leading her into the humble home.

             
Annie had been right.  Her mama had been cooking all day.  Dish after dish of hot vegetables graced the table, and mounds of fresh cornbread spun its delicious fragrance into the air.  Rose was stuffed when she finally pushed back from the table.  “Harriet, that was wonderful,” she groaned, patting her stomach. 

             
Annie jumped up from the table.  “You said we could sing tonight, Mama!”

             
“So I did, young’un.  Go get your daddy’s fiddle.  I reckon he can rustle us up some songs.”

             
Rose felt her worries and cares float away as song after song flowed into the darkening night and drifted up to dance with the stars.  She had discovered long ago she could not carry burdens and sing.  The very act of singing seemed to lift the burdens right out of her soul. 

             
Finally Amos put down his fiddle.  “I reckon I better be getting you back to your house, Miss Rose.”  The angry, haunted look had faded from his eyes.

             
Rose hated to leave, but she knew he was right.  She thanked Harriet, hugged the children, and walked with Amos down the road.  Neither talked, content to let the magic of the night hold them.  They were perhaps a half mile from the house when a distant shout caused them to turn and look back. 

             
“Was that Harriet?” Amos said with a puzzled look on his face, leaning forward to try to penetrate the darkness with his eyes. 

             
Craning to listen, Rose was suddenly aware what she was hearing - the thud of horse hooves and the faded shouts of men.  Soldiers! 

             
Amos realized it at just the same instant she did.  “Soldiers!” he growled, his voice tight with fear and anger.  “I got to get to my family,” he cried desperately.

             
“I’m coming with you!” Rose declared, trying to push aside the pictures crowding into her mind.

             
“No!”  Amos said fiercely.  “Go get help!”  Then he turned and ran.

             
Rose gazed after him for just a moment and then ran in the other direction.  She would go to the superintendent. Mr. Crosby would help.  It seemed like forever before she was pounding on his door.  The door opened almost instantly, the kindly man’s face staring out at her anxiously.

             
“Rose?  What’s wrong?”

             
“Amos... Harriet and the kids...,” her words tumbled together.  She took a deep breath.  “Soldiers are there.  Amos was gone - walking me home.  He’s gone back... I’m afraid...,” she gulped, unable to say more.

             
“I’m on my way,” Mr. Crosby promised.  “I’ll get some men to help.”

             
“I’ll come with you.”

             
“No, you go back to your house.  It’s simply not safe for you to be out right now,” he said firmly then turned to call over his shoulder.  A man Rose knew well appeared behind him.  “Walk Miss Rose home.  Don’t leave until you see her in the house.  I’m on my way out to Amos’ place,” he said quickly then turned and disappeared. 

Rose was sitting in the living room when the long awaited knock finally came.  She sprang toward the door.  Marianne, who had waited up with her, followed right behind.  She pulled the door open expectantly. Her whole body tightened with fear when she saw the look on Mr. Crosby’s face.  She held the door open wordlessly
then followed him into the living room. 

             
He stood at the mantle for a long minute, staring down at the empty fireplace.  His tall body sagged with fatigue, and his face was lined with sorrow and anger.  He seemed to be struggling with what to say. 

             
“What happened?” Rose finally asked.  It was better to know than to continue to hang in the torment of wondering.

             
“Amos didn’t make it in time,” Mr. Crosby finally managed.  “Harriet and Annie...,” he choked on the words.  “They were raped,” he finally said, his eyes filling with tears.  “They’re still alive,” he added.  “They will be okay.”