The Calm and the Strife Page 3

  But reality began to creep back as she noticed once again how the houses increased in size the farther north she walked. It was a reminder of the social distinctions that were important to so many residents. Everyone knew who was at the top of the social ladder and who was at the bottom. The judge who had taken her father away from her had cast a mark on her family, and people did not forget these things. Her friends were fewer now, and many people simply avoided her. She had done nothing wrong, and yet everywhere she went people whispered and stared.

  She hurried through the village square where the main roads met to form a cross. Continuing north, she wondered whether her mother had discovered her absence yet. Mentally, she replayed the argument from the night before, rethinking her responses. In this version, she was the one who made all the forceful and convincing points, so that her mother eventually relented, begged forgiveness, and granted her permission to go south with Wes.

  She knew it would have been different if her father had been there to stand up for her. In former days, the family lines had been drawn more fairly, with Mary and Georgia on one side and Ginnie and her father on the other. But her father had been gone for six years now, first in prison for a “misunderstanding” as he called it, then in the Poor House north of the city. The boys, as they grew, had naturally sided with their mother so that Ginnie always felt that she had no support.

  She missed her father’s company and backing desperately. Mary and Georgia sometimes referred to him with contempt, as though they were embarrassed to be related to him. Ginnie found it hard to believe all the things they attributed to him. She had seen him drunk, of course, and had watched, terrified, as he smashed things in his rage and threatened the family with harm. But this was not the real James Wade. Ginnie remembered the man who got up in the middle of the night to kiss her gently on her forehead when she had bad dreams. She recalled how he had carried her on his shoulders during their long walks in the woods while he talked endlessly about his life in the beautiful hills of Virginia. He had teased her with special secrets, whispering that she was his only real daughter, that he loved her more than anyone. He said that he had named her Virginia for his beloved birthplace, and that someday she should go there and marry a rich plantation owner.

  But that James Wade was gone. What remained was only a hollow remnant, his mind ruined by alcohol. Four years ago, Mary had him committed as “incorrigible and insane.” A year later, repenting her action, she applied to have his status changed to voluntary commitment so he would be free to visit home during his rational periods. He made several such visits and was always eager, it seemed to Ginnie, to make amends. Ginnie was glad for these visits, but after one final violent episode the judge had him committed permanently. His last visit home had been more than two years ago, the main legacy of which was a new child, her brother Harry. Another mouth to feed for a family already stretched to its financial limits.

  From time to time, when the house became too crowded or the fights with her mother or sister grew too intense, Ginnie would head north, as she was doing this morning, to the Poor House to see her father. She knew her mother would punish her with extra chores, but it no longer mattered. Behind her mother’s angry eyes she sometimes glimpsed a silent sympathy. Mary never spoke of it, but Ginnie believed that her mother still loved her father and understood her need to go see him once in a while.

  The sun was above the eastern horizon by the time Ginnie arrived at her destination. It had been months since she had seen her father and she felt a bit of trepidation. Over the past year he had become more haggard, his face drawn and hopeless. He was only forty-two years old, but his hair had grown a shocking white which made him appear ancient. On each visit, he seemed to have deteriorated a bit more. There were times when he was too ill to leave his bed and the men at the door would turn her away.

  She stood for a time looking at the low, dirty building set back from the road in an ill-tended field. Trees blocked much of the view, planted discretely to hide these men the county seemed determined to forget. The Adams County Alms House, or the “Poor House” as people called it, housed all the county derelicts, emotional as well as financial. Most had gambled or drunk away their savings and then, having lost everything including their self-respect, had been ordered into the Poor House by unsympathetic courts and angry creditors. Some, like Ginnie’s father, had been declared dangerous to the community and placed there for lack of a more appropriate facility. It was an odd assortment of men with a variety of backgrounds, but all shared a reputation as failures.

  Each morning the men were escorted to the outhouses prior to an early breakfast. Ginnie tried to time her visits to coincide with these walks since the attendants would not permit her inside the building itself. Soon after she arrived, the door opened and a line of men spilled forth. They walked casually in twos and threes, talking quietly. For the most part, nothing appeared unusual about the group; they might have been laborers leaving for their jobs in the morning. She strained to find her father among the crowd. For a moment, she was afraid he might not appear; perhaps he was ill again. Then she saw him, his white hair standing out boldly in the sun’s low morning rays. He walked by himself, quietly smiling at some inner dialogue.

  Ginnie moved forward, walking down the path that led to the building. Off to one side stood a large man with his arms crossed, watching the procession. He was the attendant charged with supervising the more disturbed of the House’s inhabitants. Ginnie approached him cautiously, trying to make her presence known so as not to startle him. The man turned, caught sight of her and a scowl darkened his face.

  “Excuse me,” she began as respectfully as possible. The man managed a grunt, allowing his eyes to slide down the length of Ginnie’s body. His leer made her shiver and she lowered her eyes. “I’m here to see my father.”

  The man continued to stare at her with suspicion, even though he recognized her from previous visits. “And who might that be, young miss?” His voice was low, sounding more animal than human.

  “It’s all right, Samuel. She’s here for me.”

  Ginnie turned to see her father walking slowly toward her. She ran to him, throwing her arms around his neck. “Papa!” He embraced her for a moment, then stood back to admire her. “I’m so glad to see you,” Ginnie sputtered. But she stopped when she saw his face. It was badly bruised on one side where a nasty-looking welt ran down along his left cheek. She reached for it but he pulled away from her hand. “What happened to you?” she asked in a tiny voice.

  He looked away, but could not hide the discomfort in his eyes. “Nothing. I was someplace I shouldn’t have been.”

  Ginnie turned to glare at the attendant who hovered nearby. He returned her stare impassively. Despite her father’s white hair and haggard face, Ginnie felt a kind of maternal pity for him. He seemed so innocent and naïve, more like a brother than a parent. His eyes darted around the groups of men huddled in the yard, some of whom stared back at Ginnie with interest. Feeling protective, he took her by the arm and led her back toward the building, away from the others.

  “You’ve been fighting with your mother,” he said knowingly. His eyes, despite their hollow look, maintained something of their old sparkle.

  Ginnie couldn’t help but smile. “Yes.”

  He nodded. “You’ll have to stop that. Your mother needs you now that I’m not there, and she can’t be worried that you’ll run off every time you have a disagreement.” He sighed sadly. “Was it about me? I’ve caused your mother a lot of pain. I’m better off here where I can’t embarrass her. You should forget me. I’m not worth the effort.”

  “Don’t say that,” she scolded gently. “I think you are. That’s why I came. To get your opinion.”

  He smiled thinly. “Why would you want a crazy old man’s opinion?”

  “You’re not crazy,” Ginnie said emphatically. On days like today it was almost possible to believe that he was normal.

  He nodded vacantly and stopped to pick a wi
ld flower for Ginnie which he slipped into her hair. “Now, what did you come all this way to ask me?”

  “It’s about a boy,” she began hesitantly.

  Her father’s face showed surprise. “A boy? God a’mighty, you’re too young to be thinking about such things.” He looked at her piercingly, then shook his head with some dismay. “Well, maybe not. No, I suppose you’re starting to grow up.”

  Ginnie couldn’t help blushing. She had turned this moment over and over in her mind, thinking how she would approach the problem. But now that the moment had come, she was afraid that her question might sound ridiculous.

  “So, what is it?” He dropped his voice. “You’re not in trouble …that way, are you?”

  “No!” she cried, her face flushing with indignation. “No. He just wants me to wait for him. He’s going south to work and wants me to wait until I’m old enough to go with him.”

  “I take it your mother wasn’t thrilled with that idea,” he said, trying to look solemn. She couldn’t tell if he was laughing at her or not.

  “No. She doesn’t like him. She doesn’t like the South. She wants me to stay here.” Wringing her hands nervously, she was afraid she might start to cry. Her father rubbed at his cheek and shook his head.

  “I suppose I had something to do with her not liking the South. And how do you feel about it?”

  “I think I’m in love with him,” she laughed, unable to believe what she was saying.

  “Then wait for him,” he said decisively. After a moment he shook his head again, leaning toward her. “Just don’t tell your mother,” he whispered.

  A thrill of joy ran through her. She had been certain that he would be on her side. But then she covered her mouth in surprise when she thought of the implications of what he had suggested. “But that means I’d have to lie to her.”

  Her father pondered this idea for a moment. “You can be forgiven if you go to the church and confess it to God. Anyway, she’ll find out in due time. And you can apologize on your wedding day.”

  Ginnie laughed again, feeling the excitement of the night before returning. She hugged her father warmly, gratefully, tears of gratitude washing away her previous frustration. Then with a quick peck on the cheek she bade him farewell. If she hurried, she would have time to slip into the church for a quick prayer and still get back in time for her morning chores.

  Chapter 3

  FREEDOM

  Gettysburg, Pennsylvania

  August 1856

  There was a palpable silence in the room when Wes’ brother, Will, finished speaking. It seemed for a moment as if time had stopped and rendered those around the table incapable of movement. The carefully prepared Sunday ham sat untouched at the head of the table. Wes, afraid to break the stillness with the smallest gesture, scanned the faces across from him without turning his head. Julia and his older sister, Annie, sat with their hands in their laps, their eyes fixed on their father. He sat stoically at the head of the table, his weathered skin and sunken eyes inscrutable in the light of the flickering gas lamps. Wes watched him out of the corner of his eye, dreading his father’s response to the idea of his sons leaving Gettysburg.

  The rumors had been whispered around the carriage shop for over a month. Mr. Hoffman had for some time been making arrangements to move his company south, and it was only a matter of time before word began to trickle out to the community. The majority of Mr. Hoffman’s customers lived in the south, and thus the move was logical. When Hoffman finally made the news public, there was turmoil in Gettysburg since almost fifty wage earners were faced with the loss of their jobs. Hoffman, however, gave his workers the option of moving to Virginia if they wanted to retain their positions. While some refused to move away from family and friends, for Wes it was just the chance he had longed for. Virginia was the very place he most wanted to be in order to build a new future for himself…and Ginnie. He had waited patiently while his older brother made up his mind. Will had a wife and child to consider and the thought of not being able to support them had finally forced him to agree to the move.

  The elder Culp had assumed that his sons would quit their jobs to work for him, and Will’s announcement that he had decided to join the migration south had caught Jesse off guard. Now, as their father pursed his lips and glowered at the ham, they watched in silence, waiting for his tirade to begin. The quiet was shattered by a hacking cough from Wes’ mother, which served to heighten the tension at the table. For the past few weeks, they had listened as she struggled to catch her breath between the wracking fits of coughing that came more and more frequently.

  Jesse, raising his eyes for the first time, took a deep breath. Wes tried to keep from wincing as he anticipated the angry words that were certain to follow. But his father simply looked at Will for a long moment and then nodded his head, a motion so slight that it was almost lost in the gray shadows of the flickering lamps. But Will and Wes both saw the sign of assent and stiffened in surprise. When their father finally spoke, his voice was breathy and hoarse, sounding infinitely tired.

  “Of course, I knew that this day would come sooner or later. You’re grown now and you have a family to look after, a wife and a three-year-old son. I don’t like the thought of you being far away. Your mother will miss you. But you have a good job, and you must do what you think is right.”

  Never once did Wes’ father take his eyes from Will’s face. He had made a point of not including Wes in any of his words, and Wes’ anxiety continued to rise. When his father paused, Wes could resist no longer.

  “Father, can I go, too?” Immediately, he chided himself for interrupting his father, and for the childish sound of his request. He did his best to maintain a positive expression on his face, but the look faltered when the old man turned his gaze toward Wes.

  “Of course not.” His father’s lips barely moved when he spoke, and the words came out sounding sarcastic and condescending. Anger poured into Wes’ body, building into rage at being treated like a child. But all of his carefully thought out arguments failed him when he looked into his father’s scornful eyes. He stuttered for a moment in one final attempt to argue his case, but all that came out was a whimpering “W…why not?”

  There was a moment’s pause before his father spoke again. The old man’s voice was steady and even, but what Wes heard was pure contempt.

  “Because you still act like a little boy. Because you’re too young to go off by yourself. Because your mother needs you here, and God knows you need a mother to look after you. And because I wouldn’t burden Will with the responsibility of looking after you. He’s got enough to worry about with his wife and child to care for in a town full of strangers. You can just start looking for work right here in Gettysburg. And in the meantime, I’ll see to it that you’re not idle.”

  Wes had prepared a hundred things to say in support of his case. But as he opened his mouth to say them, the words ran out of his head before they could reach his lips. He could think of nothing that would soften the granite face at the end of the table. And so he deliberately pushed his chair back from the table, stood without looking at anyone and walked toward the door.

  “Come back here!” his father’s voice boomed after him. Wes could imagine the old man’s face flushing red. “I didn’t excuse you from this table!” But Wes willed his feet to keep moving and stepped though the door into the kitchen, then opened the back door and escaped into the warm afternoon. Before he pulled the door closed, he heard his father mumble, “See? It just proves my point. The boy is just a stubborn child.” Wes heard the sound of his mother weeping and slammed the door before he could give way to his own tears.

  As the time for the move approached at the end of September, life dissolved into a flurry of preparations. It became harder and harder for Wes to drag himself out of bed each day to get to work, which now involved crating up all the various materials and machines used in manufacturing the Hoffman carriages.

  The more vacant the once-crowded shop became, th
e more Wes’ co-workers were filled with excitement. With few friends in the shop, he hung around his brother and his brother’s friends, Ed Skelly and Billy Holtzworth, who chattered non-stop about the big move and all the novel sights that would await them in Virginia. Nearly half of the employees were going, and it was all they seemed able to talk about. Wes could do nothing but stand back and listen to the enthusiasm of the others, each day hoping that his father would change his mind, and each day being more certain that he would not.

  Even Will was caught up in the excitement. “I’ve never been out of Gettysburg,” he mused one evening as they walked back toward the house. “I wonder if it’ll be much different. It’ll be so nice not living with Ma and Papa. Do you think the people will be much different?” It was an endless stream of random thoughts, each biting deeper into Wes’ resentment. He could not remember seeing his brother so worked up about anything before. But Wes held his tongue, preferring to keep Ginnie’s and his dreams to himself. And his jealousy was tempered to some extent by happiness for his brother because, as Wes listened to him talk, he understood Will’s excitement better than anyone knew.

  To Wes, Will had always been the lucky one. He was tall and ruggedly handsome, but there was a gentleness to him which made him easy to like. He had a talent for making difficult things look simple. As a child he could throw a rock further than anyone else; as an adult he could shoe a horse or fix a machine without effort. His easy nature had won him many admirers, and the young ladies in town had fought fiercely over him. That contest had been won by Salome Sheads, who was not only beautiful but talented and gracious as well. The couple – everyone agreed they were a perfect match – were soon married, producing a son and a daughter in quick succession. Will’s luck had failed him only briefly when a fever had struck the year before and carried their daughter away. Her death pulled the small family more tightly together and made their son, Willbertus – “Bertie” – even more precious to them.