HIlls of Pride

By Mary Sheppard

Jamie Montgomery accompanies her father from the New Orleans she loved and understood to the very different world of Winchester, Virginia. As she struggles to understand and to be accepted, this new world she is trying to embrace begins to crumble about her. As we walk with her through these hills of pride, Jamie must learn how to cope with a society that claims she is not worthy of inclusion, with a cherished man whose love is ever out of reach, and with a town and nation torn asunder. The resourceful, loving woman who emerges at once astonishes and delights the readers of this profound and authentic story.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Indigo Sea Press
• Release date: Sep 10, 2014
• ISBN: 9781938101687

Book preview

Chapter 1

A rumbling cloud hung over the South in late February of 1861, a cloud so dark and threatening over South Carolina that there could be no doubt that a violent storm was at hand. The cloud was billowing out all over the deep South, sending thunderclaps on up through North Carolina and making dark, foreboding patterns across the sunlit hills and valleys of Virginia. And across the land spread that exhilaration and wild thrill that comes to many when the unleashed forces of a storm are upon them.

Jamelle Montgomery didn't give a fig for storm clouds. She had far more pressing matters on her mind.

Pa, I’m cold. She slipped her feet out of the new green slippers and tucked them as best she could under the wool of her matching cloak. My feet feel like they’re dead.

The bulky Negro woman who sat by her in the carriage leaned over, puffing as she did so, to feel the brick beneath the girl’s feet. Miss Jamie, you mean that hot brick done cooled off?

Cooled off? It’s been like a big icicle ever since we left Strasburg.

The two men who sat facing the girl and woman across the carriage smiled understandingly at each other. "Now, cherie," the girl’s father said, with an accent that might or might not have been French, it’s not really that cold. And besides, we’ll soon be in Winchester, and you can get nice and warm in a hurry.

Jamie bit her lip to keep back the tears. The fires of Hades couldn’t warm this—

Miss Jamie, the old woman interrupted sternly as she frowned at the petulant girl. You ain’t done nuthin’ but fuss and fidget dis whole trip. You ain’t had a thing on yo’ mind ‘cept fussin’ and Noo Orleans.

The long pressed-back tears began to slip down the girl’s cheeks, but Mammy Rose paid no attention. Here we is travelin’ through country that’s the nearest to Hebbin the Almighty evah made, and you ain’t even looked out the winder.

I don’t care— Jamie tossed her dark curls, and turned away.

Co’se you care, honeychile. The husky old voice was softer. Co’se you care. You jest been too busy frettin’ and fussin’ to know it. And here dis nice gent’man yo’ Pa met on the train done offered us a ride in his cahridge to Winchester, and you ain’t hardly spoke a word.

The young man referred to laughed. Now, Mammy Rose, don’t be too hard on Miss Jamelle. I don’t reckon anyone likes to leave her friends. He turned to the girl and smiled warmly. I expect I’d act a right smart worse if I had to leave the Valley.

Jamie’s response did not carry even a hint of warmth. She kept her eyes on her hands that were tightly clasped in her lap. Mammy Rose exaggerates something awful. I stopped fretting about leaving friends a long time ago.

The older man, tall and thin in a shad-belly coat with salt and pepper hair showing beneath his black bowler, took a quick puff on his cheroot and laughed shortly. I’m afraid my daughter is rather tired, Mr. Haynesworth. After a night’s rest I’m sure she will want to join me in thanking you for making this part of our trip so delightful.

My pleasure, sir. The young man bowed slightly. After a long train trip, these last eighteen miles can be rather too much. But at least I do feel that my carriage is somewhat more comfortable than the regular stage.

Indeed it is. By the way, I wonder why Winchester doesn’t do something about getting the railroad on down through the Valley?

We’re working on that now, sir. We have the Winchester and Potomac coming in from the North, but no lines going South until we get to Strasburg. By next year, though, I expect we’ll be riding the cars right into Winchester. We’re an up and coming town, Mr. Montgomery. You’re going to like it here. He flicked his eyes across the carriage. And I hope your daughter does also.

Still the girl did not raise her eyes as her father answered a bit apologetically. I’m afraid Jamelle takes a little time to adjust to change. It’s been many years since she was in Virginia, and she had grown inordinately fond of New Orleans. You know how young girls are.

Indeed I do, sir. Clay Haynesworth spoke with assurance, as though he had a vast knowledge of the fairer sex, as indeed seemed most likely. He was a handsome young man, with a shock of dark curly hair that had a way of falling down over rakish brown eyes. His leanness had a wiry look that more than made up for the fact that he was only of medium height. He lounged with an easy grace and was, in fact, a typical young gentleman of Virginia. I not only have a younger brother but I also have two sisters so I understand, he continued. The older sister, Priscilla, and Miss Jamelle are about the same age, I should say.

"Hear that, cherie? Mr. Haynesworth has a sister about your age."

Yes, Pa.

Mr. Montgomery shot an exasperated glance across at his daughter, then went on to the other man, I do hope they can meet soon. It means a lot to a girl in a strange town to have a friend. Perhaps we can—

Of course, sir. I’ll see to it. And, by the way, we’re almost to your property. You did say you’d bought the old Chase place, didn’t you?

That’s correct. Bought it sight unseen. I’d be mighty obliged if you’d point it out to me. I know I took quite a risk, but it was represented as a good buy.

Oh, it’s a nice home, all right. Just down the road a piece from our own place, Crestview. It’s just over the next rise in the pike.

Mr. Montgomery and Mammy Rose peered forward eagerly and even Jamie raised her eyes.

This old rock fence starts at the southern line of your land, Mr. Montgomery, and continues to the northern end. As I’m sure Mr. Chase told you, the house is old. Built not long after Isaac Hite completed his famous Belle Grove down the pike, and they built to last in those days. There! You can see the house through the trees now. That’s Fairdale, sir!

Fairdale! Such a pleasant name, but it ran through Jamie like a shivery, little chill. Fairdale. It really was a lovely home and she reckoned maybe she was being downright foolish. She joined the others in peering out the carriage windows and suddenly the chill was gone for it was fair indeed. Not with any magnificence of design or appearance of grandeur, but simply and sturdily built of huge old stones with a comfortable looking porch across the center of the front and an identical porch to the side. It was tall, a full two stories, with the shorter windows of a basement showing also above the ground. There was an el to the back and Jamie could see a pleasant porch running the length of it along both stories with banisters upstairs and down. The lawn was large and the drive wound in through an avenue of trees to the porch entrance on the side. To the back was a huge, two-story barn with the second story protruding over the first, and what appeared to be several smaller outbuildings. About the entire place was a look of solid, comfortable living. A frisky little stream made its way along the far side of the lawn under the shelter of some huge old trees. It was a home of which anyone could be proud.

It looks like a home, Jamie said, and the other three looked at her in mild surprise.

"It is a home, her father said, with new depths in his voice and with no trace of an accent. Our home from now on."

Don’t say that again. Jamie’s lips were once more quivering. Not again, Pa.

Mammy Rose interrupted hastily. I do declare, Marse Perry, you done found us a moughty fine place. I sho’ does like this here home.

Thank you, Mammy Rose.

Want me to have Pompey drive down to the house so you can get a better look? asked their young host.

How about it, Jamie? Want to go down there now? It will be at least tomorrow before you see it if we don’t.

Jamie drew back from the window and leaned back against the cushions. No, Pa. I just want to get warm.

Instantly Clay was contrite. Please excuse me, Miss Jamelle. I don’t know what I could have been thinking, what with knowing you were more than a mite chilly. He yelled up to the elderly man who was driving the sleek, frisky bays. Hey, Pompey. Get a move on there. Miss Jamelle’s not used to the nip we have in the air.

He turned enthusiastically to Perry Montgomery. Oh, I say, Mr. Montgomery, Mother would never forgive me if I let you folks go to the hotel. After all, we’re neighbors. You must stay with us at Crestview until your home is ready.

Well, now, that’s mighty kind, but we could not—

Nonsense. Of course, you can.

Well, that’s certainly neighborly and we appreciate it.

Jamie leaned forward, speaking sharply. No, Pa.

"Aw, now, cherie. If Mr. Haynesworth is kind enough to invite us—"

"No, Pa. And please don’t call me ‘cherie.’"

The look of enthusiasm faded from the man’s face as he coughed nervously. "I guess you’re right, cher—uh, dear. We mustn’t impose upon our new neighbors."

No imposition, I assure you, sir. Mother and Father are always delighted at the prospect of congenial guests. But, of course, and again he wasted a smile on the girl across the aisle, we must always bow to our ladies’ wishes.

Thank you just the same, Mr. Haynesworth, she said without looking up. You are very kind.

Why, jumping Jehoshaphat, Miss Jamie, what’s kind about entertaining a neighbor? That’s just living.

The heavy carriage bounded around a turn in the Valley Pike and to the right stood a white mansion, placed well back on a wide expanse of lawn. Magnificent trees dotted the area and outlined the smooth drive which started in the center, swept in a graceful curve to the front of the high pillared gallery, and swung on around to form an exit at the same place of entry. It had a look of wealth and well-being with an elegance not seen in many of the other houses along the pike. Involuntarily Jamie sucked in her breath. How lovely, she murmured. It’s like the homes on the— and then she stopped.

That’s Crestview, Clay explained. Mother wanted to look like Tidewater Virginia even though it was practically the frontier here when she and Father built that house nearly thirty years ago.

"Magnifique! What a prince of a home!" exclaimed Mr. Montgomery. Jamie looked at him sharply.

Clay was obviously pleased. The gardens are lovely in the spring. Again he turned to Jamie. I’d like to have the pleasure of showing them to you.

Thank you, she murmured, still looking back at the majestic white structure standing proudly by the pike and looking across the Valley.

That’s Winchester you see ahead now, Clay explained, as the outlines of buildings began to form upon the late afternoon horizon. We’re a thriving little city here, sir. I tell you, Mr. Montgomery, there’s no place like it.

I’m much impressed. Frankly, a feeling of peace is something which I can’t say I’ve experienced to any great extent, but somehow this Shenandoah Valley has a peaceful feeling that kind of reaches out and takes hold of a fellow. I get a sense of quietness that— His voice dwindled away.

Jamelle looked up, and smiled across at him. It was her first real smile of the long carriage ride, and it was like a full moon breaking out through dark clouds on a particularly squally night. Her dark eyes sparkled with a subdued sort of glow as she said softly, I’m glad you like it, Pa. Truly, I am.

Mr. Montgomery chuckled and leaned across to pat her cheek. "That’s more like my little girl. No more fretting about that young chap in New Orleans, eh, cherie?" Jamelle drew back, and the dark clouds spread swiftly over the bright moonlight once again.

Houses were now appearing more frequently along each side of the pike, and then suddenly the carriage swung to the left. We’re on Loudoun Street now, Clay explained. This is our main street. They all looked out as they rode past the modest but apparently well-built houses along both sides of the tree-lined street. Jamie noted quite a few of the same stone construction as their own Fairdale, plus many of brick and frame. The houses sat close up to the street with neat little patches of lawn, usually enclosed by fences or low stone walls, but in the back could be seen spacious two-story porches. Large, secluded gardens peeped around the corners of the houses, giving a hint of quiet, gracious living.

They passed probably a half dozen side streets and then the carriage slowed as Pompey jockeyed for a position in the traffic before the hotel. Well, here we are, Clay informed them. Winchester, Virginia, in the heart of the lower Shenandoah. Then, apparently forgetting the others, he leaned across the carriage to Jamie. Please, Miss Jamelle, give the Valley a chance. Believe me, in all the South, there’s no country to compare with ours. Just wait a little while, and you’ll come to love the Valley as no other place on earth.

At the seriousness of his voice, Jamie looked up and their eyes met across the narrow space between the seats. From his eyes a spark flashed to Jamie, a flash so warm that it drove away all thought of cold and brought a bright flush to her face.

And suddenly a wild, flaming hope came to Jamelle Montgomery. Perhaps here she could be happy. Here in this land of beauty and plenty the problems that had beset her for almost as long as she could remember could be forgotten. Perhaps here she could even forgive Pa.

Chapter 2

The Taylor Hotel was Winchester’s finest hostelry. It was a white frame building, three stories high, and fronted on busy Loudoun Street just up from the white courthouse. Unlike the courthouse, though, it had no grassy lawn enclosed by a wrought iron fence, but instead sprawled right by the side of the street. Each story had a porch where guests sat on summer evenings, exchanging pleasantries or calling to friends passing by, but the bitter sting in the air today had driven all but the hardiest souls inside. If there was any dawdling to be done this night, it would very likely be around a roaring fire.

Such a fire was crackling merrily in the large, pleasant room just off the second floor porch where Jamie stood with her back to the flames.

Her full hoopskirt was pushed down close to her in front so that it spread as high as her head in the back, leaving the lower part of her body exposed to the warmth. She backed up another step toward the fire.

Mammy Rose, bustling busily around the room, called out a sharp warning. Miss Jamie, you trying to burn them new pantalets right off’n you? You move one inch closer and yo’ whole backsides is gonna’ be blazing.

Jamie giggled and inched forward a bit. I reckon you’re right, Mammy Rose, but, oh, it feels so good. I was cold right to the bone.

The old woman stopped her bustling, and planted herself before the girl. What’s come over you, honeychile? You ain’t giggled like that since you knew we was goinna’ leave Noo Orleans. Is you up to something?

Jamie tossed her dark curls. Not a thing. How could I be? Besides, I’d think you’d be delighted that I’m beginning to feel better. You’ve certainly fussed at me enough because I didn’t.

That I am. That I am! the old woman said fervently. I don’t feel like I can stand no more of this mooning’ around, making your pore pa feel bad, along with ever’body else. Ain’t I always tole you, you aint got no call to feel bad about yo’ Pa anyways?

Oh, believe me, you sure have. Over and over till I’m weary of hearing it. But my feeling better now has nothing to do with Pa. And do be careful with that yellow silk. It looks so-o-o pretty with my new green cloak.

Yes’m. It sho’ do. Only you ain’t throwing me off with no changing talk. I ain’t’ fergitting, but right now I’s gonna go git some water so’s you can take a nice hot bath. With a look at the girl, she gave up the argument, and lumbered out.

Slowly Jamie undressed before the fire until she was down to her pantalets and stay cover. Then she stood waiting impatiently for Mammy Rose to return. She made a lovely picture standing there, soaking up the warmth of the blaze. Except for the petulance on her face, she was an extraordinarily pretty girl. Although only seventeen, she was well-developed and her breasts, already generous, appeared even more so above the tiny waist that needed very little lacing to make it unbelievably small. She was short, not over five-two or three, one would guess, but she held herself as though she could look over the head of anyone she ever saw.

As she kept turning with a restless movement, the firelight was reflected in the dark depths of her hair and in her almost black eyes. Those eyes were what made Jamelle Montgomery a girl never to be forgotten by anyone who ever saw her. Even when gaiety brought a smile to her lips, there were those restless, stormy eyes. Right now there was no storm brewing, but even when the clouds were parted and the light showed through, it was the bright moonlight, never the blazing sun. And yet behind that cold light, there was no question that somewhere in Jamelle Montgomery there was a seething flame. No one who ever knew her could doubt that. Mammy Rose often said that one of these days something was going to simmer Miss Jamie down and then she was going to be peaceable, as a real lady should be, but so far there had been no simmering.

Hell’s bells, Mammy Rose, the girl cried, when finally the woman appeared with a small tub, followed by two, toe-headed boys carrying buckets of steaming water. Did you have to go out and look for a spring?

Now, Miss Jamie, was Mammy Rose’s imperturbable reply, as she got the water poured into the tub and sent the boys on their way. I warn’t gone no time a’tall and you knows it. And ain’t I done tole you a hundred times that ladies don’t pick up no such talk? You can’t hep the places you been, but you sho’ nuff can hep taking up their ways. That ain’t no way for a daughter of Miss Jamelle Haskins to talk.

I reckon I’m just a daughter of Pa, and that’s all, Mammy Rose. And now, do turn that screen so I can feel the fire while I bathe. When I move away from it, I still feel downright shivery.

Sometime later, dressed in the yellow silk, Jamelle was openly admiring herself before the mirror. I do declare, Mammy Rose, this yellow is just scandalously becoming to me.

Miss Jamie, Mammy Rose said with resignation, it ain’t ladylike to brag on yo’self.

I know, Mammy Rose, but you know I can’t ever be a lady anyway. Pa’s always seen to that.

‘Now, Miss Jamie—"

Well, I don’t care. I made up my mind in New Orleans not to think about it anymore.

Yes’m, and if we hadn’t a-gotten you outta’ there, you’d’ve made up yo’ mind about a heap more than that. Mammy Rose’s eyes grew wide and solemn, the whites looking like two blobs of snow thrown upon the darkness of her face. "But, Miss Jamie, it ain’t money that makes a lady. It’s fambly and breedin’, and ain’t nobody what has a better fambly than yo’ Ma. Don’t you never forget that, Miss Jamie. You is a lady."

But Jamie was paying no attention. She was preening this way and that; wondering if she could dare hope to see Clay Haynesworth again that evening. Just then she heard her father’s knock on the door and ran to open it.

"Why, cherie, he exclaimed. Let me look at you. He turned her around slowly. Finally he swallowed, cleared his throat, and said humbly, There never was a lovelier sight. Except, of course, your mother." Then, as some emotion took hold of him, he choked up and turned quickly to the fire.

Jamie waited a minute, then put her hand on her father’s arm. Don’t be silly, Pa. All that was long ago.

He turned to her. Long ago? What difference does that make?

It should make a lot of difference, she cried. You’re always thinking about my mother, but what about me? At least, you had her. What did I ever have?

Miss Jamie, don’t— The old woman spoke pleadingly. 

Perry Montgomery turned and looked at his daughter with deep compassion. You’ve always had me, Jamelle.

Old resentment simmered on her face as she said slowly, Yes, Pa. But that’s all I’ve ever had.

Marse Perry,’ Mammy Rose moaned, she don’t mean—"

He smiled sadly across at Mammy Rose. I’m afraid, Mammy Rose, that we’ve both known for a long time exactly what Miss Jamelle means. Then, turning with a small bow, he held out his arm to his daughter. Come, Jamelle, I think we’ll find that they’re already serving dinner downstairs. With great courtesy, Perry Montgomery led his daughter from the room.

The lobby was almost deserted as they descended. From the dining room could be heard a pleasant hum of voices along with the occasional clatter of a dish. Walking demurely by her father and looking forward to the evening, Jamie still had an unpleasant sensation. It was almost as though she had hit a defenseless person, but, good gracious, she hadn’t done anything and, besides, who could ever call Pa defenseless? Why, Pa was tough as a pine knot. Hadn’t she seen him take care of himself in plenty of scandalously bad places? No, Pa certainly was not defenseless. She was just being silly.

They passed through the lobby and entered the large dining room. There was candlelight, snowy white tablecloths, and a dark, polished floor. Just inside they hesitated, and, looking around, Jamie felt relief as she saw that most of the diners were prosperous looking and the ladies were fashionably dressed. Winchester was certainly not the backwoodsy mountain town she had expected.

Mr. Taylor himself greeted them. Ah, Mr. Montgomery and this charming miss. I trust that you are now refreshed after your long trip.

Jamie smiled and flashed her dark eyes at him, as her father replied. "Oui. Refreshed and looking forward to one of your famous dinners. I hear they are excellente."

"Thank you, sir. And now if you’ll come right this way, I have a nice table for you near the fire where I’m sure you’ll be most comfortable."

He led the way to the table and when they were seated, Jamie turned to her father enthusiastically. Smell that ham, Pa? Umm, I’m so hungry I could snatch the food right off someone else’s plate.

The hurt look was not gone from his face, but he gave her a soft, tender smile. You know what Mammy Rose would say if she could hear you say that.

I don’t care. I’m empty right down to my toes. She waited impatiently, tapping her velvet clad foot and glancing around the room as she did so.

To her right was a group of men, most of them her father’s age or older. The large, heavily built man who sat at the head of