The report Raimond was reading had been forwarded to all Union commanders, informing them that the experiment had been a great success. Not only had the lessees planted their crops, sold them, and repaid the government, but most of the free Black farmers had also turned a profit. In one case more than a thousand dollars had been cleared. Many attributed the success of this particular group of freedmen to the attitude of their former master, Joseph Davis, who’d been known to encourage enterprise and self-respect among his slaves. Raimond attributed the success to the determination of the former slaves themselves, who were handling their own business transactions, setting up their own court procedures, and enforcing their own laws.
News of the success at Davis Bend filled him with pride. He hoped the Northern press would pick up on the story, counter balancing clamorings of the “Know-Nothings” across the country who believed the Black population of the South could never provide for itself. They believed the race was intellectually inferior and predisposed toward laziness. Never mind that Black hands and backs had built every major city in the South, laid hundreds of thousands of miles of railroad tracks, and worked in all kinds of occupations. Never mind that before the war, slave labor had made the American South one of the wealthiest regions on earth. Many people in the North and South were convinced Blacks would
never work when freed, not without the lash across their backs to prod them on.
But Davis Bend spoke for itself.
Another success story came from a colony on Roanoke Island where contrabands had leased the land and built 591 houses. The land value had increased almost forty-fold by the time they celebrated their first year of freedom.
All over the South, contrabands were staking their claim to a better life. Many were leasing the very land they’d worked as slaves. Others leased wherever they could, whatever they could. Land ownership coupled with an education were the chief goals of a free man, and thousands were working toward those ends. Now that the freedmen could own their cabins and were not as crowded as they’d been during slavery, the cabins were being fixed up and whitewashed. Wells were sunk, crops planted. If the freedmen were given the chance to compete on an equal footing with their former masters, Raimond envisioned great success, not only for the freedmen and women, but for the country as well.
He slid the reports aside and searched through the clutter for his marriage ledger. Once a month, the army sent a chaplain to conduct marriages, and today was the day. The first marriage day had occurred about a week after the camp was established, when there were so many couples wanting to tie the knot, the chaplain had married them en masse—191 in the first hour alone. Raimond had no idea what the numbers would be today, but overseeing the ceremonies was one of the few duties here he genuinely enjoyed. It had touched his heart to see the love in the eyes of a former slave couple who’d been together for fifty years but been denied the right to marry, or to hear the story of a man who’d walked from plantation to plantation looking for the wife who’d been sold away from him decades ago. A report out of a Vicksburg camp had counted more than three thousand marriages conducted over an eight-month period. Five
hundred, or one-sixth, of those couples had been forcibly separated by slavery.
Sable hurried to finish the last of her hospital paperwork so she could head off to the wedding festivities. She’d not been at camp for the last marriage day, but she was looking forward to what Bridget described as a “good ol’ time.” According to her, in the evening after the ceremonies, there would be fiddlers, dancing, and much socializing. Sable was looking forward to seeing Major LeVeq. Every time she thought back on last night’s dinner, the memory of the sensation of being in his arms rose vividly. He’d left her breathless. She’d never known kisses could be so moving or that being held against him would leave her feeling so singed. Thankfully he’d remained clear-headed enough to prevent passion from totally possessing her; otherwise the evening might have turned out quite differently.
The crowd was already thick by the time Sable made her way from the hospital to the area near the Message Tree where the ceremonies would be held. It appeared as if every contraband in camp had come, and she saw many familiar faces as she stood on tiptoe in an effort to locate Bridget. She waved and called out hellos to those she knew and asked if anyone had seen her friend. A few said they had, but no one could offer a definite location, so Sable gave up for the time being.
There appeared to be quite a few couples waiting to be married by the chaplain. Some of the men were soldiers who looked smart in their starched blue uniforms. Many of the women were being married in the only dress they owned, but it didn’t seem to matter. The love on their faces mirrored the true measure of their wealth. The couples were old and young. Many had been together for as long as Sable had been alive, while others had met and fallen in love there in the camp. In the years before the war a few of the masters back home had per
mitted their slaves to marry, but Carson Fontaine had not been one of them.
The chaplain was a young, redheaded man from Boston named Charles Drayer. He and Sable had talked many times over at the hospital. His family were staunch abolitionists from Boston.
The tall, bearded LeVeq stood next to the shorter chaplin, and the sight of him filled her eyes. He seemed to sense her interest, because he turned from speaking with the chaplain, looked out into the crowd, and met her gaze. The world seemed to stand still. He nodded and as she nodded in return, the intensity of his gaze heightened the pace of her breathing and made her lips part unconsciously. Once again she felt singed.
Sable didn’t realize Bridget had sidled near until she heard, “He truly is a gorgeous man, isn’t he?”
Sable grinned at Bridget, then directed her eyes back to the man in question. “Yes, he truly is.”
Sable wanted to talk with Bridget about his desire to make her his mistress, but with the crowd pressed so tightly, she decided to wait for a more private moment.
Bridget kept hopping up and down trying to see over the heads blocking their view. “I can’t see a damn thing. Come on, let’s look for a better spot.”
She and Sable worked their way over to a place with fewer tall people, then watched as the first couple came to stand before the chaplain. Thirteen couples were waiting in line, and both Sable and Bridget beamed upon seeing Avery and his wife, Salome, among them.
“I thought they were leaving,” Sable said as Avery recited his vows loud enough for all the world to hear.
“The church in Rhode Island wouldn’t sponsor them until they were married. They’ll be leaving tomorrow.”
Sable’s heart swelled with pride as Salome, holding the infant Avery the Younger, spoke her pledge too.
A few more couples stepped up and were married, then came the curious sight of a man who stood before the chaplain with two women.
His name was Hiram Geerson and the two women were the two different wives he’d had under slavery. Neither woman appeared pleased to be there. He looked sheepish. His dilemma revolved around which one to marry.
“Well,” said Chaplain Drayer, “which one do you wish to marry?”
“Both,” came Hiram’s reply, and everyone laughed.
Smiling, the chaplain shook his head. “The law says you can have only one wife.”
“How am I supposed to decide?”
The chaplain shrugged. Several members of the crowd called out to suggest Hiram flip a coin or have the women draw straws. Arms crossed, both women shifted impatiently.
Finally the chaplain asked, “Which woman has borne you the most children?”
Hiram pointed to the woman on the left.
“Then she’s the one you should marry.”
The woman who’d lost Hiram asked pointedly, “And what of
my
children? Who will provide for them?”
Out of the crowd rang a loud voice, “I will, if you’ll have me.”
Everyone laughed, thinking it was a joke, until a man who rivaled Raimond LeVeq in both size and good looks stepped forward. The woman appeared as surprised as everyone else. “But you don’t know me and I don’t know you,” she countered.
“You’re right. My name is Levi Bond. I’ve a job and some land not far from here and I need a woman to help make it a home. Your younguns will be welcome. Will you have me?”
She looked up at the chaplain, who appeared quite pleased with the outcome, then back at the tall waiting man. Tears in her eyes, she nodded yes.
Shouts of approval rang out from the crowd. The new couple got in line behind Hiram to await their turn to become husband and wife.
When the ceremonies ended some time later, the crowd began drifting away. Some came forward to congratulate the newlyweds. Sable and Bridget hugged both Avery and Salome, then wished them well on tomorrow’s journey North.
Bridget headed back toward the laundry, promising to come and get Sable later so they could attend the evening’s celebrations.
Sable started out for the hospital, only to have the major fall in beside her. “Hello, Miss Fontaine.”
“Major.”
“May I have the pleasure of your company this evening?”
She paused to look up into his playful eyes. “I’d enjoy that.”
“Good, then I will come by the hospital later.”
Sable knew she was staring at him, but couldn’t seem to stop herself.
He told her boldly, “If there weren’t a hundred pairs of eyes watching, I’d kiss you right here.”
“And I’d let you,” she countered softly.
He bowed and departed.
True to his word, he came for her at the end of her shift. He held her hand as they walked together in the November moonlight toward the bonfires, where the revelry was already well underway. “You’re the first man I’ve ever walked with in the moonlight,” she said.
“I still find that hard to believe.”
“It’s the truth. I was sweet on a young coachman a few years ago and I’m fairly certain he returned my feelings. He’d promised to dance with me at the quarter’s New Year’s gathering, but Sally Ann wouldn’t let me attend. I spent the whole evening serving cake and tea to her friends.”
“Whatever happened to him?”
She shrugged. “Later that spring his master moved to Texas. I never saw him again.”
Sable and Raimond reached the festivities just in time
to catch the end of the broom jumping. Broom jumping was a parlor game of sorts. The idea was to see who would wear the pants in the household of the newlyweds—the new husband or the new wife. The broom was held about a foot above the ground and it had to be jumped backward without being touched. The person who cleared the broom would be the boss.
Sable laughed as the man Levi Bond got his big boots tangled in the broom and crashed to the ground. His smiling wife waited until the broom was held aloft again, then raised her skirts and jumped over it as neat as a cricket.
Her feat was met by laughter and applause. Several folks told Levi he wouldn’t be able to leave the house without his new wife’s approval after the way she’d sailed over that broom, but Levi just laughed. To Sable he appeared more than pleased with his choice of a mate.
As she and the major strolled off, Sable said, “I wonder if Levi and his wife will be happy together.”
“Time will tell, but he’s a good man to take on an unknown woman and her children.”
Sable thought so too.
“Hungry?” he asked.
She nodded.
“There’s a reception being held for the soldiers who were married. Would you like to attend?”
“How fancy is it?”
“Pretty fancy.”
Sable looked down at her scuffed and muddy army boots, her stained and ragged black and white checked dress, and said, “Maybe I’ll decline. I wouldn’t want my appearance to reflect poorly upon you.”
“You will be the most beautiful woman there.”
“Not in these clothes.”
“How about I go inside and steal a couple of plates? We can eat elsewhere.”
“That would be better,” she confessed, glad for his understanding.
“Then that’s what we’ll do.”
The reception was being held in the large tent that usually served as the soldiers’ dining hall. Outside, waiting for the major to return, Sable tapped her toe to the lively fiddle music and listened to the happy chatter of the party goers. The smell of the pig roasting nearby made her stomach growl.
“Well, if it isn’t the murderess.”
Out of the darkness stepped Major Borden.
Sable didn’t acknowledge him with more than a leveling look before turning away.
Borden stepped closer. “Your jig major embarrassed me yesterday, but he’ll get his and so will you.”
Sable remained silent.
“In fact, I’m working on it right now, missy.”
At that moment Raimond stepped up to them. “Working on what, Major Borden—bad manners? A gentleman does not accost a lady in the dark.”
“You got a real foreign way of talking, LeVeq. Where’re you from?”
“New Orleans.”
“Oh, you’re one of those French jigs.”
Raimond didn’t bat an eye. “Haitian, actually. My ancestors helped kick the French out of Haiti and save Andrew Jackson from the English in 1812. What were your people doing in those days?”
“Owning slaves.”
“Just as I suspected. Well, know this,” he said, and his voice softened with warning, “if you try to compromise Miss Fontaine or her freedom, you will have me to answer to.”
Not even the dark could mask the surprise in Borden’s eyes. He finally sputtered, “How dare you threaten me!”
“That wasn’t a threat, Major,” Raimond replied smoothly, “that was a promise. Now, Miss Fontaine and I are going to find a quiet spot to eat our dinner. Have a good evening.”
Sable walked away feeling as stunned as Borden undoubtedly did. Having been a slave all her life, she’d never heard a man of the race speak so forcefully before. “Won’t you get in trouble threatening him that way?”
“Probably. But he’ll think twice about causing you harm.”
“What will happen if he reports you?”
“In a fair world, it would be my word against his, but since fairness is as fickle as the wind in this country, I would probably be booted out.”