To Whisper Her Name (24 page)

Ridley managed a laugh, surprised Uncle Bob had revealed his plans. But then, they weren’t a secret.

Harding glanced at the clock on the mantle. “A few of the men who served under me in the war have already gone out there. I hear it’s beautiful country.”

Tensing a little, Ridley nodded. “That’s what I hear too, sir. I’m looking forward to seeing it.”

“My only concern is the yearling sale in June of next year, Mr. Cooper. I’d like a commitment from you that you’ll stay through that event before leaving. There’s a great deal of work to be done, and I would appreciate your facilitation. And who knows?” He shrugged. “Seven years from now, you may find yourself still here.”

Ridley managed a smile, knowing that wouldn’t be the case. He had just two years to claim and develop his land out west. He’d have to leave next June at the latest or risk losing his land forever. But another year at Belle Meade meant more time to learn from Uncle Bob. “You can count on me staying through the yearling sale, sir. Next June. But after that, I’ll be on my way.”

Harding rose and held out his hand. “We’ll see about that when the time comes. But until then, I appreciate your commitment. A man is nothing without his word. And in my book, a handshake is as binding a contract as any words dried on paper.”

Ridley matched the general’s strong grip, feeling a nudge of guilt over Harding not knowing the whole truth about him. Perhaps, in time, Harding’s bitterness toward the Federals would ease. But looking at that beard — and certain it had grown an inch just since they’d been in the office — Ridley doubted that would be the case.

He followed Harding to the door.

“Something else I’d appreciate, Mr. Cooper, are your ideas on how you think we might draw interested buyers. This being Belle Meade’s first yearling sale, I want to make it a successful one. I considered holding it this summer, but not every Southern gentleman’s bank book is what it was before the war. The demand for fine horse flesh is on the rise, however, and I believe that by next year, there will be a strong market for my thoroughbreds.”

“Yes, sir. I agree. I’ll be sure to give that some thought.”

“Very good.” Harding reached to open the door. “My wife tells me you were assigned to Nashville for the war, Mr. Cooper.”

Ridley winced and was grateful Harding’s back was to him. “Yes, sir. That’s right. For the majority of the time.”

Harding opened the door. “Who was your immediate commanding officer? I met some of the men from South Carolina. Perhaps I knew him.”

Ridley paused inside the doorway, feeling more like he was balancing on the edge of a cliff. Against a stiff wind. What were the odds the general would recognize the name of a Union officer? From Pennsylvania. And with so common a name. “Samuels,” he answered truthfully, determining in that moment — and respecting this man and himself enough — not to lie. Yet he also had an obligation to Uncle Bob to keep
their
secret safe, which he would, regardless of whether or not his came to light. “My commanding officer’s name was Robert Samuels.”

Harding repeated the name, frowning. “Can’t say that name rings a bell. But there were so many of us. Still …” The general sighed, staring out across the meadow. “After all was said and done, it wasn’t enough, was it, Mr. Cooper?”

Ridley looked at him, eye to eye — thankful the man hadn’t asked what regiment he’d been in — and shook his head. “No, sir, General Harding. It wasn’t.”

N
ow it’s your turn, Jimmy. And try to write it exactly like I showed you this time.”

Ridley stood outside the door of the tack room, making no secret of his presence, but doubting Olivia had noticed him. For the past two weeks, he’d observed her teaching and found his gut instincts about her talents proven correct. He enjoyed watching and listening to the spirited exchange between teacher and pupil.

Or pupils
, he silently amended, noting Jimmy’s younger sister snuggled against Olivia.

“But, Missus Aberdeen” — Jimmy’s eyes grew bigger — “I can’t do it ‘zactly like you done, ma’am. You got yo’self a heap more practice at it than me.”

“Just do the best you can, Jimmy. That’s all I’m asking.”

“Miss ‘Livia?” Jimmy’s little sister, Jolene — two or three years younger than Jimmy, Ridley guessed — tugged on Olivia’s skirt. The girl was nearly as tall as her brother and claimed the same lithe build. Ridley smiled at the way Jolene took hold of Olivia’s hand whenever the little girl asked a question.

“Yes, Jolene.” Olivia leaned down. “What is it, sweetie?”

“When’s it gonna be my turn to have the slate, Miss ‘Livia?”

“After me, Jo-Jo.” Jimmy shot his sister a glance. “You already done had it twice. And these is my lessons. I’m pert near to bein’ a man. That means I get to learn first, over a girl. Right, Missus Aberdeen?”

“Actually, Jimmy …”

Ridley grinned, hoping Jimmy was ready for the response that statement was certain to garner.

Olivia slipped an arm around his and Jolene’s thin shoulders. “I
think both you and your sister should have the right to study and learn if you so desire. Boy or girl, it makes no difference.”

Jolene lifted her chin a couple of notches just as Jimmy lowered his.

“Now, Jimmy …” Olivia pointed to the slate. “Write that row of letters there as best you can.”

Hunkered over the slate, Jimmy did, then held it up.

“
Very
good!” Olivia smiled. “Now, Jolene, it’s your turn.”

Little Jolene took more time than her brother, but finally held up the slate, hopeful.

“
Very
good as well!” Olivia beamed, slipping her hand into her pocket. “And for all your hard work in recent days …” She placed something into each of their hands.

“A sugar stick!” Jimmy crunched down on the candy.

Jolene gave hers a delicate lick. “Thank you, Missus Aberdeen, for givin’ this to us.”

“Oh, I didn’t give it to you, Jolene. You both
earned
it. There’s a difference.”

Ridley grinned at the life lesson. Olivia was gifted at teaching. She had a way of breaking things into bite-sized pieces Jimmy — and now Jolene — could grasp. And she was so patient with them. He wondered though …

Did she grasp what a daring thing it was she was doing? For years, it had been illegal to undertake a slave’s education, and yet here she was — a white woman — teaching the children of former slaves at one of the largest plantations in Tennessee. When he thought of it that way, he couldn’t help but admire her, while also being glad it was only two students and not a freedmen’s school. That would be an entirely different situation, with far greater risks than he would ever encourage her to pursue.

Listening to her answer a question from Jimmy, Ridley wondered if General Harding knew about her teaching. He quickly guessed he didn’t and could wager the man wouldn’t approve of her actions.

“Ridley, got a minute to help me with somethin’ outside?”

Recognizing Uncle Bob’s voice, Ridley started to turn, but Olivia glanced up right then. She smiled and mouthed
hello
. Ridley winked and nodded, proud of her in a way he couldn’t define and wishing it were just the two of them having dinner together tonight instead of him joining the entire Harding family. It wasn’t being with the Harding women that he dreaded. They seemed nice enough. It was spending
time in General Harding’s company — especially since the incident with Seabird — that wore on him.

In recent days, when visiting the stables, the general had struck up conversations with him that always led to war talk. The man had reminisced at length about his own experiences, while Ridley only commented when forced to. And even then, he’d kept to generalities. He’d caught Harding looking at him pensively a couple of times, as though the man knew he wasn’t being as talkative as he might.

Ridley joined Uncle Bob outside and started to grab one end of a hefty crate of supplies.

“Mr. Cooper!”

Ridley glanced up to see Jedediah, along with a handful of other workers with him. “Jedediah. Gentlemen.” He nodded to the rest. “Everything all right?”

“Oh yes, sir.” Jedediah smiled, then glanced at the other men with him. “Everythin’ be fine.”

Ridley didn’t know the other stable hands as well as he did Jedediah, but he’d worked with them on several occasions. One of the men — Bartholomew, an ox of a man, one of the hardest workers Ridley had ever seen — met his gaze then lifted his chin slightly. Ridley sensed that his part in the gathering either wasn’t his cup o’ tea, or maybe he wasn’t here of his own volition.

“Mr. Cooper,” Jedediah continued, “we been gettin’ some extra pay in our pouches, sir, and … we just come by to say thank you. We know it was you who done it. Who got it for us. Got us the same pay as the white workers.”

All the men nodded — even Bartholomew — but none of them looked Ridley in the eye, and it became clearer to him in that moment what they were feeling. It was something he understood only too well. In a blink, he was back at Andersonville, filthy bowl outstretched, hunger clawing the back of his stomach even as pride choked his throat. It was a humiliating thing for a man to have to act beholden to someone for something that should be rightfully his.

“I appreciate that, Jedediah. Gentlemen.” Ridley looked at each of them, seeing a part of his past he’d never forget. “But I didn’t
get
you anything. A man deserves a fair wage for a fair day’s labor. Keep doing the work, and you’ll keep getting paid.”

A glint sparked Jedediah’s eyes. Bartholomew stood a little taller,
as did the others. “Yes, sir, Mr. Cooper,” they said one after the other before walking away, heads higher than when they’d come.

Uncle Bob looked over at him but said nothing, which suited Ridley fine. Ridley hefted the other end of the crate, and together they carried it inside to the hallway.

“That’s mighty good of her,” Uncle Bob said, nodding toward the tack room as they lowered the crate. “What she doin’ with them young ‘uns.”

Ridley straightened, his sense of pride in her returning. “Yes, it is. She seems to enjoy it. And she’s good at it too.”

Uncle Bob looked at him, then nodded.

“What?” Ridley asked, catching a curious flicker in the man’s expression.

“I didn’t say nothin’.”

“No. But you
want
to. I know you do. Might as well go ahead and get it out. You’ll end up telling me on the front porch tonight anyway.”

Uncle Bob looked up and down the hallway. “I’s just wonderin’ if you ready for this fancy dinner tonight. Ready for whatever talk might come up.”

Ridley eyed him, matching the man’s whisper. “Do you know something I don’t?”

Uncle Bob hesitated. “I got word they’s gonna be some other people there.”

“Other people?”

“Folks from out of town. A couple and two other gentlemen. Two men who fought with General Harding.”

“War buddies,” Ridley whispered, more to himself than to Uncle Bob. “I’ve tap danced my way around things so far. I guess I’ll just do it again.”

“I know you did, sir. I heard you in here the other day. I’s surprised you got any sole left on the tips of them boots.”

They both smiled, but not for long.

“This may sound selfish, but I’m not sorry I came here. What you’re teaching me, what I’ve learned …” Ridley looked away. “What I
am
sorry about, though, is that I’ve put you in a predicament that might bring you harm.”

Uncle Bob’s brief exhale tugged his attention back.

“Sir, there’re times in life when you know — as sure as the sun’s gonna come up in the east and go to bed in the west — that what
you’re doin’ is what the Maker wants you to do. I feel that way every day here at Belle Meade. Always have. And I feel it when I’m workin’ with you. Never in all my years would I’a guessed a man like you would be here, and that I’d be teachin’ you. But you’s here for a reason, sir. I know that with everythin’ in me. So no matter what comes, sir …” He shook his head. “Don’t you ever say you’s sorry. ‘Cause I sure ain’t.”

“What’re you men doin’ talkin’ all low and serious like that? You ain’t careful, I’m gonna start me some rumors.”

They looked up to see Rachel Norris walking toward them down the corridor. She carried her customary herbal pouch, as Ridley had come to think of it. “Afternoon, Rachel.”

She smiled, exchanging a brief hug with Uncle Bob. She was older than Uncle Bob by several years, Ridley guessed, though he wasn’t good at measuring such things. He knew they’d known each other for a long time.

Uncle Bob reached for the pouch. “You bring me some fresh makin’s for poultices?”

Rachel swatted his hand. “This be for Missus Aberdeen. She was supposed to come by for it directly. But with it bein’ such a fine day out, I thought I’d bring it myself.”

Ridley glanced at the pouch, hoping Olivia wasn’t feeling poorly. But surely not. She looked in full health to him. At the far end of the stable, a ranch hand entered with a mare and Uncle Bob excused himself.

Ridley gestured down the hall. “Mrs. Aberdeen is working in the —”

Jimmy and Jolene appeared in the doorway of the tack room, followed by Olivia.

“Rachel!” The children yelled in unison and ran straight for her.

The older woman embraced them, then produced two wrapped pieces of candy from her pocket. Ridley recognized Rachel’s homemade caramels, as did the children, judging by their grins. Rachel gave them another hug before they scampered off unwrapping their sweets. “I heard you been teachin’ Jimmy and his sister, Missus Aberdeen. Awfully kind of you.”

Olivia beamed, looking equal parts woman and girl. “Believe me, it’s my pleasure.” She glanced at the herb bag. “Is that what I think it is?”

“It is.” Rachel handed it to her.

Ridley looked between them. “Why do I get the feeling you two are up to something?”

Olivia looked at him, her expression hinting at guilt.

But Rachel eyed him. “Tell us your secrets first, Mr. Cooper. Then we’ll tell you ours.”

“That’s right,” Olivia chimed in, borrowing confidence.

Ridley held his hands up in mock truce. “I know when I’m beaten.”

Olivia smiled at him, then looked at Rachel. “Thank you so much for this. I was nearly out. It’s working wonders! Just like you said it would.”

His curiosity definitely roused, Ridley didn’t dare push for more information. Not with Rachel here. But he quickly decided the herbs couldn’t be for anything personal for Olivia. She hadn’t blushed in the least when referring to using them. Maybe later tonight — if they had some time alone, like he intended — he could make sure she was all right.

Olivia tucked the pouch behind the ledger in her arms, hiding it. “I’ll see you at dinner?”

The question was aimed at him. He nodded. “I’ll be there.”

He watched her go, then realized — too late — that Rachel was watching him watch.

She just smiled. “I’m good at keepin’ secrets, Mr. Cooper.”

He tilted his head in acknowledgment. “As am I, Mrs. Norris.”

She raised an eyebrow as though impressed, her blue eyes seeming even more so. “You ready for dinner at General Harding’s table?”

“As I’ll ever be, I guess.”

“What you plannin’ on wearin’?”

“I have my best shirt clean. Same for my trousers.”

She looked at him thoughtfully. “They need pressin’?”

“I did my ironing last night too. Nearly burned my collar
and
my thumb in the process.”

“Well, at least you didn’t burn down the old Harding cabin. That’s sayin’ somethin’.” She grinned. “By the way, I been meanin’ to ask you. How’d you like our church?”

It was his turn to grin. “It was …
different
. But good.”

He’d only been to the Negro church once, tired of Uncle Bob asking him to go. But he was glad he’d visited, even if he’d felt a little awkward. And not because he’d been the only white person there. His discomfort, if he could call it that, had stemmed from feeling like
he was the only person there who didn’t really
know
the Almighty. Not like the rest of them, anyway. But watching them worship, listening to them sing, made him want to. More than he ever had before.

“I’ll be back this Sunday,” he said, giving Rachel a look. “Long as you promise I don’t have to preach.”

“No.” She waved the comment away. “We don’t make you preach ‘til your third time.”

Later, after bathing in the creek, Ridley made his way back to get ready for dinner. His hair was still damp but would dry quickly enough in the summer sun. It was nearly to his collar again, but — he ran a hand over his jaw — at least he was clean-shaven. When he crested the hill, he spotted Rachel sitting in Uncle Bob’s rocker on the porch. She stood as he neared.