From These Ashes Part Iii: Through Wisdom Is a House Built...Proverbs 24:3

By T.E. Reynolds

Even in historys darkest times, enlightened men looked to the heart when choosing a friend. From These Ashes, is about a young man from Barnwell County, South Carolina who inherits 150 of his fellow human-beings. Part I, A Friend Loveth at All Times, speaks of the close relationships that existed on plantations between master and slave and the unrecognized struggle for freedom complicated by loyalty to a fair master.
Part II, A Brother Offended, continues the story through the war. The characters serve with the 2nd South Carolina Cavalry under Edgefields M.C. Butler - sharing in such adventures as Brandy Station, Hamptons cattle raid and the bitter return to South Carolina to fight against Kilpatricks Army, who gloried in burning a path from the low country to Columbia with more vengeance than Sherman dealt Georgia.
After the war, the main character returns home to find another challenge. Following true accounts of the Reconstruction, Part III, Through Wisdom is a House Built, places the characters into this agonizing time. In Part III, the main character does what he must to build a safe future for those he loves from the ashes left by Kilpatricks invasion.
From These Ashes celebrates positive qualities in men of both colors. Reynolds believes what we give our power over to will manifest. With this story he has chosen to celebrate the good in mankind - the good that was present then and is now. President Lincoln once said when meeting Harriet Beecher Stowe, So youre the little lady who wrote the book that started this great war! Reynolds shares a veiled history with a new generation of Americans. Knowledge brings understanding and understanding empathy. So with this tale his prayer is set free Let the South be free to celebrate her Confederate heritage.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Feb 18, 2011
• ISBN: 9781456701178

T.E. Reynolds

In 1859 South Carolina stood on the threshold of war. The end to an era boldly knocked on every Southern door until even the peacemakers had no recourse but to allow its entrance. Without mercy, the war changed Southern lives forever. No amount of blood sacrifice shed during those tragic four years would atone for errors of past generations or gain empathy for those who so bravely fought for Southern independence. Reynolds considers himself a 21st century freedom fighter. Being a student of the War Between the States for the past forty years he felt called to tell this tale. Believing he has heard the voices of countless, honorable good men in gray, who served for a cause they believed in, crying out to be heard and not forgotten, he has written the story because he believes it is time the truth be told. So much history of the South’s struggle for independence has been written by the victor. Reynolds realizes his writing is no great literary accomplishment — just an interesting story that reveals a valuable truth to all Americans. He hopes his story will draw a reader, with no interest in this era, into the daily conflicts faced by those who lived during that time and provide them with an insight into the events that dramatically shaped 20th century America.

Book preview

From These Ashes

Part III

Through Wisdom is a House Built…Proverbs 24:3

T.E. Reynolds

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© 2011 T.E. Reynolds. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

First published by AuthorHouse 2/15/2011

ISBN: 978-1-4567-0116-1 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4567-0115-4 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-4567-0117-8 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2010918911

Printed in the United States of America

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Contents

Introduction

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Bibliography

Bibliography (continued)

Bibliography (continued)

Bibliography (continued)

Bibliography (continued)

Be not thou envious against evil men, neither desire to be with them. For their heart studieth destruction, and their lips talk of mischief. Through wisdom is a house builded; and by understanding it is established…

Proverbs 24:1-3

Introduction

The events in the story you are about to read are taken from accounts documented by men who lived through those terrible years of Reconstruction. Although the events in Part III are particular to South Carolina, they were common throughout the South after the war. The fictional characters from Part I & II have been placed into the actual events of the day. What you are about to read is shocking — shocking because having been omitted from our nation’s text books, it may be the first time you have heard it.

Before you draw any conclusions about the past, you deserve to know all the truth. After researching the material for Part III, the author finally understood the events that dramatically shaped 20th Century America. The fact is to the detriment of every Southerner —both black and white —the federal government stood idly by and allowed the Carpetbaggers and Radical Republicans to foster racial resentment that still lingers to this day.

For those of you who may doubt the validity of the events that are described on these pages, a bibliography has been included at the end of Part III. You are encouraged to read these books and draw your own conclusions.

Chapter One

The early morning songbirds woke James up on his first morning at White Oaks. For a moment he was content to just lie there — taking in everything his senses would allow. The smell of the fresh linens and the feel of the soft feather bed beneath him reminded him of how good it was to be home again. The sight of the dimly lit room with the old familiar furnishings made it seem as if a miracle had spared White Oaks from the evil that had changed so many things throughout the South. Then he thought of Melinda and her direct telegraph line to her Heavenly Father and smiled.

Pushing back the sheets, he swung his legs over the edge of the bed and stretched his arms over his head. He sat there deep in thought, until the north window beckoned him. At the window, he pushed back the draperies and looked towards the graveyard where Cassy lie. With no one stirring in the upstairs bedchambers, James dressed for the day then quietly left the Big House. On the path leading to the garden, he could see the sun beginning to peak over the horizon. He stopped there to gather the few remaining flowers not trampled underfoot by Kilpatrick’s men, then walked across the lawn in the direction of the family cemetery. Dew sparkled on the green grass, giving the toes of his well-worn boots a polished appearance. At the gate, he paused for a moment to reflect on his past. His mind scanned a lifetime of memories laid to rest behind that fence. For several moments more, he clung to those precious moments he had spent with Cassy, moments that were gone forever.

When he placed his hand on the wrought iron gate, it felt as cold as the last goodbye kiss he had placed on her lips the day they put her to rest beneath the red earth of White Oaks. At the grave where she and their child rested, the mound of soil once heaped high was now flat with the passing of time. Knelling by the grave, he placed two flowers there — one for her and one for their child. Lingering for a moment, he thought of the irreplaceable time they had shared. Knowing the time was drawing close when he would be giving his heart away again, he whispered the words almost apologetically, I will always love you both, no matter who else I let into my life. I want you to know that.

Then a simple question filled his thoughts. How can I be at peace knowing you’re so sad? A tear gathered in the corner of his eye when he realized that was exactly what love was all about. And there was no doubt in his mind that was the experience they had shared. It seemed as though Cassy’s words of love from the grave were giving him permission to live again. Loving her had been a good thing, no matter what the world thought of it. He would never regret those moments. She had shown him that love — sweet and pure was within his reach. Cassy and the boy would always be a part of his soul. He knew if there was such a place as Heaven, they surely were there.

While James knelt on the hillside, Willie and Leah walked towards woodpile behind the kitchen for kindling to start the morning’s fire. It was there she noticed him in the growing light of day, kneeling by her daughter’s grave. She sucked in a deep breath and laid a hand on Willie’s arm. When she looked up at her husband, a tear rolled down her cheek. Willie smiled tenderly and wiped it away. What she saw had touched her heart. The same four years that had not diminished her love for Cassy appeared to have left James’ love intact as well. It was then that Leah realized the man kneeling on the hill deserved her friendship.

Quietly Leah loaded Willie’s arms with the wood, making sure she didn’t disturb the young man. James stood up and walked towards the graves of the other two important women in his life. After placing a single flower on both his mother’s and Mammy’s graves, he walked towards the gate and swung it open. He paused with his back still to the headstones. Old insecurities, magnified by his failure of the last four years, dominated his thoughts. Then he heard the words he hated. Worthless! You’re worthless! He turned around to look at the place where his father rested. God help White Oaks! The sound of Beau’s voice echoed over and over in his mind.

Then James thought about how he had been told by so many that he was one of the lucky ones. True – he had been spared the deadly consequences of the fray, returning home with nothing more than a slight limp on rainy days. And for that he was thankful. But being one of the lucky ones brought its own burden. The consequences of those four years haunted him day and night in his waking thoughts and dreams. The failures he had experienced on his four-year journey back to White Oaks only served to support Beau’s opinion of him. Had he not given his very best, and at times more than he had to give, during these past four years? Yet, he still had ridden home with nothing to show for his sacrifices. He had suffered the weather, wounds, near starvation, loss of his best friend and so many other good men. And once back on their native soil, in their last desperate struggle, Hampton’s men had been unable to prevent Kilpatrick from laying waste to South Carolina. Had it not been enough for the damn Federals to defeat the Confederate Army without destroying so many homes and farms? Perhaps if he had fought a little harder, a little longer — ridiculous! He had given all he had and would have given more, if Hampton had ordered them to Texas.

Their bitter defeat only reinforced in his mind that perhaps Beau had been right all along. He was worthless. How could his father have been so sure he was going to be a failure? He must have seen something. Perhaps all who looked at him saw the same thing. Why did he ever think Beau had been wrong?

Then from nowhere came the redeeming voice of a child, sparing him from the hell his thoughts had created. Sighing deeply, he turned his head to little Jeffy, who was calling his name. James let the gate close behind him and walked towards the child running to greet him. When he knelt down, Jeffy flung himself into his arms. Giving his uncle a big hug, he said, I’m so glad you’re still here, Uncle James.

So am I, Jeffy. So am I. The child had no idea just how much he really meant those words. ‘Home, Sweet Home’. He must hang up such a sign as soon as he could.

Will you sit with Jenny and me in the kitchen while we eat our breakfast? Auntie Leah has it ready.

Certainly. James stood and took the boy’s hand.

James could feel Jeffy staring at him. Finally the boy said, You look funny in that beard.

Oh, do I now?

Yes, you do. Mama said she hardly knew who you were with all that hair on your face.

Do you think your Mama would like me to shave it off after breakfast?

Yes, and I should like that too. Then I’ll know for sure my Uncle James is home. Are you staying forever now?

Yes. The war is over.

Mama said my Papa’s not coming home. She said he’s in heaven.

It must make you sad that you won’t see your father again.

Yes, but when she told me Papa wasn’t coming home, I was really afraid you wouldn’t come home either. When I asked her if you would be coming home, she said I must pray every night and ask God to keep you safe. So I did that. And here you are.

You certainly are your mother’s son. James smiled and tousled the boy’s dark curls. Kneeling down to look the boy in the eye, he promised, You need not worry or be afraid anymore. I’ll always be here for you. Jeffy gave James a big hug just before Leah came to the kitchen door and called him to the table.

Sit down der, child, and eat yo’r breakfast before it gets cold. Leah pulled the long wooden bench away from her kitchen table, then went to the wood stove and removed the cast iron frying pan. She placed fried cornbread and scrambled eggs on Jenny’s plate. James walked over to the little girl and bent down to give her a hug. She immediately pulled away and stared at him with a puzzled look on her face. Scurrying towards Leah, she clung tightly to her.

She’s just goin’ to take a while to warm up to yo’. Dat’s all.

You think so? She certainly does favor her Aunt Jessica. James smiled, watching Leah soothe Jenny’s auburn curls. When he felt the child’s icy cold stare, so reminiscent of Jessica’s, he shook a little.

Leah, picking up on the unspoken words, chuckled along with him. Don’t I know? But her Auntie Leah loves her anyways.

While James kept the children company during their breakfast, Leah poured him a cup of the brew she was substituting for coffee these days. During the meal, James sipped at his ‘coffee’ and caught up on the past four years with Willie and Cato.

While James visited with Willie in the kitchen, Melinda set the dining room table in the Big House and then went upstairs to dress for breakfast. Looking at herself in the full length mirror, she thought about how tired she was of wearing black. She had worn it sincerely when her father died. But it seemed like a mockery to wear it for Jefferson. Waiting in the pantry for Leah to bring the food from the outdoor kitchen, her heart beat a little faster when she heard James’ footsteps in the dining room. She wondered why the prospect of seeing her old friend had her as nervous as a mouse within the reach of a hungry cat. Hearing Leah at the outside pantry door, she opened it to let her enter.

Is James out there?

Yes, ma’am.

Melinda smiled at her. Tucking a stray hair nervously into her mourning cap, she leaned close to Leah’s ear and whispered, How do I look? Do I look alright?

Leah grabbed both of her hands and nodded. Yo’ look fine — just fine. Smiling to herself, Leah thought how nice it would be if Miss Lindy and Massa James could make a life together. They would be so good for each other.

When Melinda breezed through the pantry door, James looked at the beautiful young woman, who was also his best friend. He walked over to her place at the table and pulled back the chair. You are the best sight of home I’ve seen so far. Just look at you. You look even more beautiful than I remembered. After pushing her chair in, he sat at the head of the table. Melinda rang the china bell and the door to the pantry opened.

After Leah served them breakfast, they said in unison, Thank you. Looking at each other, they smiled.

I’s goin’ to close des doors so yo’ all can eat without dem children botherin’ yo’. Leah walked to the big double doors separating the dining room from the drawing room and pulled them shut.

Melinda passed a bowl of scrambled eggs to James. It’s so good to have you home.

I can’t tell you how good it is to be home.

What are your plans for today?

Shaving off my beard so Jeffy’s Mama will recognize me without all this hair on my face, James teased.

That little rascal! There’s not a thing you can say in front of him that he doesn’t repeat.

It must keep you honest.

You’d think I would learn. Melinda smiled. Looking at James, she thought how wonderful it was to have her old friend home again. She had missed him so.

I think once I’m recognizable, I’m going to talk to my people about their freedom and what it means to them. I want them to understand that this will be a lean year. I’ll give them my word that if they stay and help raise the food crops, they’ll get an equal share. We can talk about next year’s cash crop and how they’ll be paid for the work they do.

I already told them they were free to go if they wished, when Kilpatrick’s troops crossed over into South Carolina. At that time, several families left. One family has already come back.

How many remain?

About ninety-seven. Nineteen families in all.

This year, my main concern is keeping a roof over our heads and feeding everyone at White Oaks. We’re already behind in our planting, but as long as we can get our food crops in, I’ll be satisfied. We have time enough to worry about a cash crop next year — especially since you told me about the contents of your secret hiding place in the root cellar.

It was a clever idea Willie had, wasn’t it?

Clever is an understatement! James looked up from his plate and smiled at Melinda. Both of you are brilliant. Your insistence upon payment in gold for last year’s cotton crop was pure genius. Why, Melinda, it was you who saved White Oaks for us.

‘For us’… Melinda’s heart beat a little faster with those words.

It will buy us the time we need and allow for any emergencies. Brilliant! Absolutely brilliant!

And what about the perfect hiding place?

Last night when Willie showed me the root cellar and explained what he’d done, I had to laugh at his cleverness in fooling the blasted Yankees.

Let me tell you about the first night he started digging. Melinda could not contain her laughter thinking about it. Once able to proceed, she told James the story about sneaking in the dark of night to see where the noise of Willie’s digging was coming from, her blood-curdling scream, and Willie hitting his head. James and Melinda laughed together at her story, just like old times.

When they finally recovered, James asked, What livestock do we have left?

We have a cow. She’s in season right now and needs to be bred soon. The Smith family – you know those dreadfully poor folks just outside of Blackville with all those little boys and the new baby girl, have a bull. I’m sure they wouldn’t mind making some money by breeding our cow. We also have about six laying hens, a rooster, and two pigs that managed to wedge themselves between the fence and the shed when the Yankees were here. Willie had the devil of a time getting them out. I sure don’t know what I would have done without Willie and Leah.

They certainly have been good friends, haven’t they? That day in Charleston when I bought Willie and his family, he made a promise to me. A promise he has never broken. When Willie saw how angry my father got, he told me he was never going to make me sorry that I saved his family. He truly is a man of his word. James thought how wrong Beau had been about his decision to buy Willie’s family. He had done the right thing that day at the Vendue Range. Willie’s loyalty was proof of it.

I don’t think you ever told me about that day. What happened?

Listening to James’ story, she thought of how much she appreciated everything about him. James was the kind of man she had always wished to marry. When the story was over, she said, How kind of you to do that for them. James looked at her and smiled. She was so unlike her sister. Melinda was just the kind of woman with whom he had always hoped to share his life.

It was a miracle the troops didn’t burn down the Big House. James changed the subject. Is that more of your praying saving the day? James teased, and smiled at his friend.

You rascal! Truthfully, if it wasn’t for the fact God placed Jefferson’s cousin in the right place at the right time, both White Oaks and June Hill might not have fared as well as they did. However, they did burn the barn before he could stop them. And they took off most of our livestock, as well.

I noticed the carriage house and stable are still standing. Is Lady Shane’s colt still here?

Yes, believe it or not, he’s still with us. We have one draft horse left. All but one of the cotton wagons are gone.

What about the buggy and carriage?

The Yankees, led by your old overseer, Earl Coombs, shoveled manure in the carriage. We tried to clean it out the best…

Earl Coombs dressed in blue! What could be worst than that?

Nothing! He’s a horrid man. He frightened me so. I hope we’ve seen the last of him. If it hadn’t been for the captain, we would have fared much worse. After a few moments of silence, curiosity prompted Melinda to ask, What were the events surrounding Jefferson’s death?

James related the story of her husband’s demise. Listening to the tale, Melinda thought it was a befitting end to such a unkind man. Realizing what she had just thought, she quickly prayed for forgiveness. When James finished the story, he asked, How are you doing now that Jefferson is gone?

Melinda sighed. She knew she could speak the truth to James without fear of reprisal. I would be a liar if I said I grieved. I feel only relief. It’s a mockery to wear black. He never really got to know the children. And if he had, that would have been the only tragedy in it.

I understand perfectly. James remembered how he had felt after Jessica’s death.

All in all, I have to say we fared a lot better than most folks. And I thank God daily for what we have left. Oh, James, the devastation of it all. To see so many things of beauty ruined — so many beautiful people gone, too. Families still grieve. There’s sadness everywhere. It breaks my heart to go into Blackville. I try to stop by the Johnson’s when I’m in town. They’re such good people. They were so devastated when they heard of Philip’s death. It just broke my heart.

Placing his fork next to his plate, James lowered his eyes. Please, let’s not speak of it. Didn’t he think of it enough? Didn’t he relive it in his dreams? How many more nights would he lie awake and think of those last terrible moments with Philip?

Melinda sensed her comments had greatly affected James’ lightheartedness. She changed the subject. Haven’t the children grown like weeds?

Yes, they have. James’ thoughts were still on Philip and all the others who would never come home.

What is it, James? You can tell me. Haven’t we always told each other about what is lying heavy on our hearts?

It’s best we don’t talk about Philip’s death. I struggle not to think of it. I… I know of no other way to leave it behind. James pushed his chair away from the table.

No, James. Wait! Before he could stand, Melinda knelt at his feet. The faded black of her skirt flowed around her. Oh, my dear friend, she whispered and reached up to place her hand on his cheek. What horrors you must have had to endure. I’m so sorry. I’m so very, very sorry. I hate that you had to be there when it was happening, as much as I hate for my words to take you back again. How I wish there never had been a war. She rested her hands on his shoulders and leaned against him.

So do I, Lindy. Returning her embrace, he whispered in her ear, So do I.

They clung to each other for that moment. When she pulled away, she saw the extreme grief in his eyes. Gently, she kissed him on the lips. For a brief moment James pulled back. But when he looked deeply into her sparkling green eyes filled with love, he realized a truth that perhaps he had always known. Without hesitation, the words spilled from his lips. I love you, Lindy. I always have. I love everything about you. I love your good heart, your endurance, your faith, your spirit, your caring ways, your beauty. There is absolutely nothing at all I would change about you. If it were not for you and the children there would be nothing for me to live for. In that magical moment, Melinda had realized her wish. For when James looked at her, he only saw their future waiting for them.

Oh, James, you spoke the very words that are in my heart. It’s exactly how I feel about you. I love you. And if the truth be known, I suppose I always have as well. Their eyes gazed deeply into each other’s souls and recognized a familiarity of the ages. Without reservation they embraced their destiny.

***

The next day, James made a list of what he would need in order to put his ‘year-one’ survival plan into action. After he tucked the list into his pocket, he placed some family silverware into a canvas sack. The gold would remain undisturbed for now. No need to draw attention and unwelcome visitors to White Oaks.

In the barn, he found Willie and Cato hitching the wagon. James slipped the bag under the seat and walked into the stall of their only surviving cow. After James had her secured to the back of the wagon, Willie climbed on to the buckboard and pulled it out of the barn.

On their way into town, along the sides of the roads, James and Willie could see the shanties that had emerged. Remnants of Blackville’s carnage had been thrown together in a haphazard fashion to keep their inhabitants sheltered from the rain. However, they appeared to be hardly sufficient against the spring rain, let alone this year’s winter winds. Some of them had small patches of corn growing next to them. Most of the patches of corn were overgrown with weeds, while their inhabitants sat in the shade of nearby trees.

I expect dem folks will be knockin’ on our door come dis winter when der bellies is hungry. Willie shook his head at their lack of insight. The way I see it — de Bible says we got to earn a livin’ by the sweat of our brows. And I do believe God was meanin’ yo’ got to work to do dat, even if yo’ is free!

James laughed. You’re probably right. Unfortunately, their little sabbatical will cost them dearly.

Free or slave, we still is goin’ to have to work to earn our keep. Dey just ain’t figured dat out yet.

They’ll arrive at that conclusion sooner or later.

I’m afraid it’s goin’ to take some of dem more time den what’s good for dem. Willie sighed and slapped the reins over the horse’s back.

When James and Willie approached Blackville, the sound of the train whistle in the distance raised a sense of familiarity. However, once they arrived on the main street, James’ heart sank when he saw that the charred skeletal remains of Farley’s general store was among the other buildings burnt beneath Kilpatrick’s torch. James felt a glimmer of hope when he saw the train pulling into the station. In defiance of the destruction around them, the approaching train boldly displayed a Confederate battle flag painted on the outside of a passenger car. James, in his uniform jacket and slouch hat, felt a sense of pride looking at his country’s flag. Like so many other veterans, either out of necessity or desire to make a statement, he also wore his shell jacket of Confederate gray.

James had seen enough. He suggested they try to find the new location of the Farley’s store. Let’s see what news Mrs. Farley has for us. If anyone knew where to get a plow, it would be her.

They found Mrs. Farley and her husband sitting in rocking chairs on the delivery platform of their old warehouse. Their home was now in the building that they had once used to store surplus wares — a far cry from the comfort of their old living quarters above the store. He had also noticed that several blocks away a building was under construction by a stranger. A sign in front said, without remorse, Future site of the Blackville Mercantile.

Willie and Cato stayed with the wagon while James climbed the delivery platform stairs to shake Mr. Farley’s hand. How do you do, Mr. Farley, Mrs. Farley? He tipped his slough hat to the old woman. It’s a pleasure to see you all again after such a long time.

And you too, my dear James. Oh, my — how thin you are. Mrs. Farley shook her head. How she had hated to hear all those terrible stories of the troops starving. It had broken her heart to think of what those brave young men had endured. Before her thoughts made her weep, she changed the subject. Let me see. What rank is that on your collar and sleeves? I can never keep them straight.

Those are a Major’s insignias, Mr. Farley proudly informed her, winking his approval at James. He remembered when James had been just a lad peeking over the counter at the candy.

What? Mrs. Farley was getting a little hard of hearing, although she would never admit it.

Major. I said Major! Mr. Farley repeated much louder the second time.

Well, then, Major Travis, we’re so glad to see you made it home from the war. Mrs. Farley used his military title out of respect for his service to their cause. Military titles flowed freely these days in the South.

Who’s building the new store I passed coming into town?

Mrs. Farley sadly shook her head. The store you see going up down there belongs to a Yankee Carpetbagger. You should be at the train station these days. Why, there isn’t a day the train stops that it doesn’t bring another pack of money-hungry wolves from the North to Blackville or points beyond. As for us, I’m sad to say, we’re practically paupers now. We’re still trying to pay debts we owed to Yankee distributors from before the war. Tears began to well up in the old lady’s gray eyes. James felt a stab of pity for her and her husband.

Haven’t we lost enough? You’d think the federal government would reimburse those Yankee merchants and bear some of the responsibilities for the devastation their army wrought. Mr. Farley and I are inches away from the poorhouse door. Starting all over again at our age seems more than we can bear. I ask God every time I pray why we must spend our last years struggling to repay Yankee creditors. At our age, we should be released from these debts. It’s only fair that they share the burden of what their army robbed from us. We had always paid our debtors before the war.

If it hadn’t been for them destroying our towns, we would be more able to make good our debts. Mr. Farley added.

Once that store gets built, we’ll be entirely out of business. Certainly we’ll be no competition for them. The old woman looked forlornly at James.

Now, Mrs. Farley, you know those of us who belong here won’t choose to do business with that Yankee. Your friends will stand by you until you can to get back on your feet again. James reassured her.

Did you know we lost our only grandson in the war? You remember that dear, sweet boy?

Yes, ma’am, I surely do remember him.

He was going to take over the store for us so we didn’t have to work so hard in our old age.

I’m truly sorry to hear he’s gone. If there’s anything I can do, please don’t hesitate to ask.

Well, I do have something, but I’m ashamed to ask. I know none of us have anything left, Major. But there was a debt on the books of twenty dollars before the store burned, she said apologetically. Mrs. Benet has been very good about paying what is owed, but with all the turmoil of Kilpatrick’s men in town, I think it must have slipped her mind. I feel dreadful bringing this to your attention and I wouldn’t if…

Please don’t apologize. James laid a hand on the woman’s shoulder. Wait one moment. I’ll be right back.

James walked back to the wagon, pulled the canvas bag from beneath the seat, and looked over his shoulder to make sure he had not attracted any attention. When he saw there was no one around, James discretely removed a silver tea set and server from the canvas bag, knowing it was worth far more than twenty dollars. After slipping it into another sack, he carried it to where Mrs. Farley sat. Handing her the bag, he said, I think this will make us even.

Mrs. Farley opened the bag and peeked in. What on earth? How did you manage to keep this from the Yankees?

James bent down and whispered in her ear, teasing her like before the war. It’s a secret.

When she looked up at him with her eyes sparkling from the hope of learning something no one else knew, he winked at her. Understanding she was falling into their old game, she slapped at his arm playfully. But really, James, this is worth far more than what you owe us.

I need all of this. James handed her the list from his pocket.

Mrs. Farley read the list and said, The silver is still worth more than what you would owe me — even after what’s on here. James just shook his head and smiled. God Bless you, Major, for trying to help us.

We have to stand together now more than ever before, if we’re to make it through all of this. James followed her into the warehouse.

Placing his seeds on a counter constructed of planks stretched over two barrels, Mrs. Farley asked, Is that everything for now?

I think so. But I just want you to know, I’m planting only food crops this year, and I promise at harvest time, I won’t forget the two of you.

How thoughtful of you; you always were such a good boy.

Oh, I just remembered. I do need something else. Can you tell me where I might purchase a plow? I only have one left and I’ll need another one in order to do this year’s planting before it’s too late.

Major Travis, there’s no place here in town besides those Yankee carpetbaggers and the Freedmen’s Bureau in Barnwell where you’ll be able to get a plow in time.

I certainly don’t want to give those carpetbaggers my money.

Without a doubt, but I do understand the Freedmen’s Bureau is giving away plows and other farming utensils. If you bring some of your people, they may give you one. However, you do have to prove you are destitute.

Swallowing his pride, James rationalized, I think they owe us that much at the very least.

Getting a plow here by any other means, even from that Yankee carpetbagger, would take a month or more. If you’re worried about getting a crop in before it’s too late, I’m afraid the Bureau is your best option.

Yes, as much as I detest the idea. I best get home so I can get an early start tomorrow morning for Barnwell, James said, resigning himself to his fate.

Once they walked out onto the warehouse platform, Mr. Farley sat down and asked, So have the Yankee soldiers with the Freedmen’s Bureau been out to your place yet?

What would they be there for?

Haven’t you heard? James shook his head. The military is supervising the formation of contracts between you landowners and your former slaves.

They’re what? James was indignant thinking that they believed he would not treat his people fairly.

That’s right. The angrier Mr. Farley got, the more his hand trembled on his cane. They don’t think we can take care of our own Negras. Right now we have no organized state government and the military is in control. They have jurisdiction over everything from petty larceny to murder. It’s no trial by jury anymore. Oh no, he said, shaking his head back and forth. Whether you’re guilty or innocent is decided by the provost court or military commission, depending on just what you’re charged with. Same men we were just shooting at are now deciding our fate as if they could be objective. Justice is a mockery these days.

Mrs. Farley added. And, Major Travis, if that’s not enough of an insult — they’re putting freed slaves in blue uniforms and giving them guns — calling them the Black Militia.

Why would they do a fool thing like that? That’s only setting the Negroes up for trouble. James hated to see them being used in a vendetta against the Confederate veterans. Surely the federal government knew putting the Negro in this position would be interpreted as harassment.

I can tell you why they’re doing it. That’s simple, Mr. Farley commented. They’re out for revenge. They don’t think they’ve demoralized us enough by destroying our homes. And you know, Major Travis, not everyone treated their slaves as fairly as you did at White Oaks. Some of the slaves have quite an axe to grind.

Hearing Mr. Farley statement caused James’ mind to travel to Mullins. Those bad apples will always spoil the barrel for us.

Mrs. Farley nodded in agreement and then added, Some very greedy and destructive Yankees are putting ideas into their heads. Ideas these darkies might not have come to, if left on their own. Now these darkies are insulting folks throughout the state. Their impertinent attitude is going to lead to trouble.

Who would think such a ridiculous plan would help bring peace and reconciliation? James wondered out loud.

The damn fool called the federal government would. Nothing but damn fools would think this wise. None of us know for sure, but we’re speculating this Black Militia might be the work of President Johnson or Secretary Stanton. But whoever it was that thought up the idea — it’s clearly saying to us, ‘Listen up, Rebs, don’t get too comfortable because this war’s not over yet’.

On their way home from Blackville, the Yankee soldiers Mrs. Farley had warned them about, overtook James and Willie a mile before the turnoff to the Big House. Fearful the soldiers were heading to White Oaks, Willie snapped the reins over the horse’s ears urging the old horse on faster.

Melinda was picking greens for supper when she heard the sound of horses’ hooves beating the earth. She walked to the front of the Big House just in time to see Michael Daley calling his troops to a halt on the tree-lined drive. Hearing an insulting whistle come from the ranks, she looked towards the offender and the masterful smirk of Earl Coombs. Melinda’s heart sank knowing Coombs was still in the vicinity. Daley dismounted, walked up to her and removed his hat. By way of greeting, he nodded and said, Mrs. Benet.

Captain Daley, Melinda replied coldly, annoyed that he remained in South Carolina.

I stopped by at June Hill and couldn’t find anyone there. Is Jefferson about?

Your cousin was a killed in the war. I thought you knew that.

No. I never received word. I’m sorry to hear that. His thoughts turned to Melinda’s future.

What brings you to White Oaks today? she asked coldly. Her tightly pressed lips and narrowed eyes reflected feelings Melinda chose not to conceal.

My duties connected to my assignment here in South Carolina. Daley did not miss the fact that he was unwelcome.

So you’re not done with us yet? Are you?

It’s not through my choice. Melinda certainly knew how to anger him. I’ve been assigned here because of my familiarity with the region.

I see. Melinda sighed deeply. Her hopes of never seeing him again vanished.

Is the owner of White Oaks about?

Just as she was opening her mouth to respond, she heard the wagon rumbling down the drive. Instead of replying, she sighed with relief. A snap of the whip made the tired old horse run as fast as he could up the tree-lined drive. The sound of the approaching wagon caused Daley’s head to turn in its direction.

That would be Major Travis now. Melinda proudly tilted her chin upwards.

Daley was disappointed when he recognized that she considered Major Travis to be her savior of the moment. He felt a bit of jealousy stir, watching James jump out of the wagon and take his place by her side. Silently, Daley cursed the power she still held over him.

I’m James Travis. White Oaks is my home. What is it you want here?

Daley even more miffed now by this defeated soldier’s haughty attitude said, It’s not entirely yours until we know whether or not your treason will be pardoned. If it’s not pardoned, White Oaks will become the property of the federal government. I’m here to let you know that you might not qualify. Daley knew very well how near and dear land was to a Southerner.

What are you talking about? James demanded.

It appears you may very well be in violation of President Johnson’s Amnesty Proclamation of May 29th, exemption number 13.

And just what might that be, Captain? James asked with loathing in his voice.

We are here to assess the value of your taxable worth. If it exceeds $20,000 and you have voluntarily participated in the rebellion, you are not eligible to take the oath of amnesty at this time. And as I can see, Major, you have been involved.

Get off my land!

Perhaps you didn’t hear me. Right now we’re not sure it is your land. I will be sending out an assessor to White Oaks and June Hill. Then we will decide who owns these properties, Major Travis — you or the federal government. It’s best you don’t resist this action. We expect your full cooperation.

James heard a snicker coming from the federal soldiers. When he looked up he saw Earl Coombs nod at him. That was just what he needed — Earl Coombs back in Barnwell County.

If that’s all you have to say, it’s now time to leave. James glared at Daley and then at Coombs.

Not just yet, Daley interrupted. James heard Coombs laughter coming from the ranks. I’m also here on an order dated May 15, 1865 that impacts all ex-slave and landowners. This announcement from Major-General Gillmore, Commander of the Department of the South, declares that all people of the black race are free citizens of the United States. We expect all of you ex-slave owners to respect their rights to freedom immediately. If you should fail to inform your Negroes before June 30th, one week from today, that they are free — your lands are subject to confiscation under the act establishing the Freedmen’s Bureau and will become the property of the federal government.

Is that all? James asked impatiently. He heard Coombs laugh again.

No. In addition, another reason we are here today is to supervise the formulation of written contracts between you and your former slaves.

Captain Daley, all of our people know they’re free. They have known that since you and all of your fire-happy bummers crossed over into South Carolina. And furthermore, I’ve given them my word, which they trust, that we will take care of them until we can plant a cash crop next year.

"Your word means nothing to the federal government,