THE PROVOST MAKES HIS FIRST MOVE
Leech shortly determined to give the neighborhood an illustration of
his power, and, striking, he struck high.
A few days after the Provost’s arrival Dr. Cary received a summons to
appear before him at the court-house next day. It was issued on the
complaint of “the Rev. James Sherwood,” and was signed, “Jonadab Leech,
Provost commanding,” etc.
General Legaie, who was at Birdwood when the soldier who served the
summons arrived, was urgent that Dr. Cary should refuse to obey it;
but the Doctor said he would go. He would obey the law. He would not,
however report to Leech, but to Captain Middleton, the ranking officer.
The General said if the Doctor would persist in going, he would go with
him to represent him. So next morning the two old officers rode down to
the Court-house together, the General very martial, and Dr. Cary very
calm.
When they reached the county seat they found “the street,” or road in
front of “the green,” which was occupied by the camp of the soldiers,
filled with negroes, men and women. They had made booths of boughs in
the fence-corners, where they were living like children at play, and
were all in the gayest spirits, laughing and shouting and “larking”
among themselves, presenting in this regard a very different state of
mind from that of the two gentlemen. They were, however, respectful
enough to them, and when the riders inquired where the commanding
officer was, there were plenty of offers to show them, and more than
enough to hold their horses. Some of them indicated that the commander
was in the old store on the roadside, which appeared from the throng
about it to be the centre of interest to the crowd.
“Dat ain’t nuttin but the buro, sir; the ones you wants to see is up
yonder at Miss’ Dockett’s; I knows de ones you wants to see,” said Tom,
one of the Doctor’s old servants, with great pride.
To settle the question, the Doctor dismounted and walked in, giving his
horse to the old man to hold.
The front of the store was full of negroes, packed together as thick
as they could stand, and simply waiting. They made way for the Doctor
and he passed through to the rear, where there was a little partition
walling off a back room. The door was ajar, and inside were seated two
men, one a stranger in uniform, the other, a man who sat with his back
to the door, and who, at the moment that the Doctor approached, was
leaning forward, talking to the Provost in a low, earnest half-whisper.
As the visitor knocked the official glanced up and the other man turned
quickly and looked over his shoulder. Seeing Dr. Cary he sprang to his
feet. It was Hiram Still.
“I wish to see the officer in command,” announced the Doctor.
“Good-morning Mr. Still.” His tone expressed surprise.
“I am the officer in command,” said the official, shortly.
“Ah! you are not Captain Middleton? I believe he is in command.”
“No, I guess not. I’m Captain _Leech_, head of the Freedmen’s Bureau.”
His voice was thin but assertive, and he spoke as if he had been
contradicted.
“Ah! It is the regular officer I wish to see.”
“I’m regular enough, I guess, and if it’s anything about the freedmen
you’ll find, I guess, I’m the one to see.” He turned from the Doctor
with studied indifference and motioned to his companion to resume his
seat. The latter, however, came forward. He had apparently recovered
somewhat from his confusion.
“This is Dr. Cary, one of the finest gentlemen in our county,” he said
to the officer, as if he were making a speech, and then turned to the
Doctor: “Captain Leech is the gentleman to see about getting our hands
back. Fact is, I am just down here about that now.”
Leech had been looking at the Doctor with new interest. “So you’re
Dr. Cary?” he said. “Well, I’m the one for you to see. I summoned you
to appear before me to know why you turned the Rev. Mr. Sherwood out
of his home.” His manner was growing more and more insolent, and the
Doctor stiffened. The only notice he took was to look over Leech’s head.
“Ah! I believe I will go and see Captain Middleton,” he said, with
dignity. “Good-morning,” and he walked out, his head held somewhat
higher than when he went in, leaving Leech fuming in impotent rage, and
Still to give the Head of the Bureau behind his back a very different
estimate of him from that which he had just declared so loudly in his
presence.
“He’s one of that same sort with your young men,” said the manager,
“only more so. What did I tell you? See, he won’t _talk to you_!
He wants to talk to Captain Middleton. You trust me, I’ll keep you
informed. I know ’em all. Not that he ain’t better than most, because
he’s naturally kind-hearted and would do well enough if let alone, but
he can’t help it. It’s bred in the bone. But I’m too smart for ’em.
I was too smart for ’em durin’ the war, and I am still.” He gave the
Provost a confidential wink.
“Well, he’ll find out who I am before he gets through,” said Leech.
“I guess he’ll find I’m about as big a man as Captain Middleton.” He
squared back his thin shoulders and puffed out his chest. “I’ll show
him.” He turned to the door.
“That’s it—that’s it,” smiled Still, delightedly.
Meantime Dr. Cary had joined General Legaie, and with the single remark
that it was “the commanding officer, not the commissary,” that they
wanted to see, they rode up the hill.
When the two gentlemen arrived at Mrs. Dockett’s they found that
energetic lady, trowel in hand, among her flowers, and were received
by her with so much distinction that it produced immediately a great
impression on her two lodgers, who, unseen, were observing them from
their window.
“Gad! Larry, there’s Don Quixote, and he’s brought his cousin, Dr.
Filgrave, along with him. He must be a lieutenant-general at least.
See the way the old lady is smiling! I must learn his secret.” And the
little Lieutenant sprang to the mirror and rattled on as Middleton got
ready for the interview which he anticipated, and the two gentlemen
came slowly up the walk, bareheaded, with Mrs. Dockett, talking
energetically, between them.
The next moment there was a tramp outside the door, and with that
rap, which Thurston said was a model for the last trump, Mrs. Dockett
herself flung open the door and announced, with a wave of her hand:
“General Legaie and Major Cary.”
The two visitors were received with great respect. Middleton was at
his best, and in the face of a somewhat depressing gravity on the two
old officers’ part, tried to give the interview a friendly turn by
recalling pleasantly his visit to Red Rock before the war, and his
recollection of Dr. Cary and his daughter. He ventured even to inquire
after her. He supposed she was a good big girl now?
“Yes, she was almost quite grown and was enjoying very good health,”
said the Doctor, bowing civilly, and he proceeded forthwith to state
the cause of their visit, while Thurston introduced to the General,
somewhat irrelevantly, the subject of fishing.
Captain Middleton listened respectfully to all the two gentlemen had to
say. He agreed with them as to the necessity of establishing some form
of civil government in the counties, and believed that steps would be
taken to do so as soon as possible. Meantime he should preserve order.
Matters relating to the negroes, except in the line of preserving
order, were, however, rather beyond his province, and properly under
the control of an entirely distinct branch, which was just being
organized, with head-quarters for the State, in the city. He said he
would go with Dr. Cary before the Provost and see that he was not
annoyed by any frivolous charge. So he accompanied the two gentlemen
back to Leech’s office and attended the trial. It was galling enough
to the two gentlemen as it was; and but for the presence of Middleton
might have been much more so. Leech’s blue eyes snapped with pleasure
at the reappearance of the old officers, but were filled with a vague
disquiet at the presence of their companion. However, he immediately
proceeded with much importance to take up the case. The “trial” was
held in the court-house, and the Provost sat in the judge’s seat. The
negroes around took in quickly that something unusual was happening,
and the court-room was thronged with them, all filled with curiosity,
and many of the older ones wearing on their faces a preternatural
solemnity. Sherwood was present, in a black coat, his countenance
expressive of comical self-importance. Dr. Cary and General Legaie sat
behind the bar, the Doctor, somewhat paler than usual, his head up, his
mouth compressed, and his thin nostrils dilating; the General’s eyes
glowing with the fire that smouldered beneath. Middleton sat off to one
side, a little in front of the bar, a silent but observant spectator.
The case was stated by Leech, and without the useless formality of
examining the complainant who had already given his story, Dr. Cary was
asked by the Provost, why he had driven Sherwood off.
The Doctor rose and made his statement. When he first stood up the
compression of his lips showed the feeling under which he labored; but
the next second he had mastered himself, and when he spoke it was with
as much respect as if he were addressing the Chief Justice. The land
was his, and he claimed that he would have had the right to drive the
man off had he wished to do so; but, as a matter of fact, he had not
done so—he had not done so on account of Sherwood’s wife, who was the
daughter of the old mammy in his family, and a valued servant. He had
only deposed him from being the manager.
The Provost was manifestly a little disconcerted by this announcement.
He glanced about him. The Doctor had evidently made an impression.
“Can you prove this?” he asked, sharply. The General wriggled in his
chair, his hands clutching the sides, and the Doctor for a second
looked a trifle more grim. He drew in a long breath.
“Well, my word has usually been taken as proof of a fact I stated,” he
said, slowly. “But if you desire further proof, there are several of
my old servants present who will corroborate what I state. Perhaps you
might be willing to accept their testimony?” He looked the Provost in
the eyes, and then glanced around half humorously. “Tom!” he called to
the old man who had held his horse, and who was now standing in the
front row. “Will you state what occurred, to this—ah—officer?”
“Yas, suh—I’ll groberate ev’y wud you say—‘cus’ I wuz dyah,” asserted
Tom, with manifest pride.
“Dat’s so,” called out one or two others, not to be outdone by Tom, and
the tide set in for the Doctor.
The Provost, in this state of the case, declared that the charge was
not sustained, and he felt it his duty to dismiss the complaint. He,
however, would take this occasion to state his views on the duties of
the former owners to their slaves; and he delivered a long and somewhat
rambling discourse on the subject, manifestly designed for the sable
part of his audience. When he concluded, and just as he started to
rise, the General sprang to his feet. The Doctor looked at him with
some curiosity, perhaps not unmingled with anxiety, for the General’s
eyes were blazing. With an effort, however, the General controlled
himself.
“Permit me to say, Mr. Provost, that your views, like those of a good
many people of your class, are more valuable to yourself than to
others.” He bowed low.
“Dat’s so, too!” called out Tom, who was still in a corroborative mood,
on which there was a guffaw from the negroes. And with this shot,
the General, after looking the Provost steadily in the eyes, turned
on his heel and stalked out of the court-house, leaving Leech trying
ineffectually to look as if he, as well as others, appreciated the
humor of Tom’s speech.
As they came out, Middleton took occasion to reopen their former
conversation as to the necessity of establishing some form of civil
government in the counties. He believed, he said, that the two
gentlemen might find it better to apply to the head of the bureau in
this section—Colonel Krafton—rather than to attempt to secure any
cooperation from Leech, who, he said, was only a subordinate, and
really had little authority.
Middleton and Thurston quickly felt the beneficial effect of their
civility to the old officers, in the increasing cordiality shown them
by their landlady. Mrs. Dockett gave them a full account of both
visitors, their pedigrees and position, not omitting a glowing picture
of the beauty and charms of the daughter of Dr. Cary, and a hint that
she was bound to marry either Jacquelin Gray, the owner of Red Rock,
or her cousin, Captain Stevenson Allen, who, Mrs. Dockett declared,
was the finest young man in the world, and had applied to her for
table-board that very day.
This was interesting, at least to Thurston, who declared that now
that he was succeeding so well with Miss Dockett, it was necessary
to utilize Middleton’s figure. Events, however, were moving without
Thurston’s agency.
An order came to Middleton from head-quarters a day or two later to go
to the upper end of the county and investigate certain “mysterious
meetings” which, it was reported, were being held in that section.
The list given of those who participated in such meetings made
Middleton whistle. It contained the names of Dr. Cary, General Legaie,
Captain Allen, and nearly every man of prominence in the county.
The name given him, as that of the person who could furnish him
with information, was Hiram Still; and the order contained explicit
directions where to meet him. He would find him at a certain hour at
the house of a colored man, named Nicholas Ash.
So the Captain rode up to a small cabin situated in a little valley
near the Red Rock place, and had an interview with Still, who appeared
to Middleton far more mysterious than anything else he discovered
on his trip. The meetings referred to, seemed to be only those
social gatherings which Dr. Cary had already spoken of to the young
officer. When Middleton prepared to leave, Mr. Still offered to show
him a nearer way back by the ford below the old bridge that had
been destroyed during the war, and as it was late in the afternoon,
Middleton accepted his offer.
They were almost at the ford when an old carriage came out of the road
which led down from the Red Rock plantation, and turned into the main
road just before them. Still pulled up his horse, and, excusing himself
from going any farther, on the ground that if Middleton followed the
carriage he would be all right, turned back. All anyone had to do, he
said, was to keep down the river a little, so as not to hit the sunken
timbers; but not to go too far down or he would get over a ledge of
rock and into deep water.
As the road was narrow and Middleton supposed that the driver knew
the ford, he kept behind the carriage, and let it cross before him.
One of the horses appeared to be afraid of the water, and the driver
had to whip him to force him in. So when he entered the stream he was
plunging, and, continuing to plunge, he got among the sunken timbers
and fell.
Middleton was so close behind the carriage that he could hear the
voices of two ladies inside, one of whom was apparently much alarmed,
whilst the other was soothing her, and encouraging the driver. He heard
her say:
“There’s no danger, Cousin Thomasia. Gideon can manage them.” But
there was some danger, and “Cousin Thomasia” appeared to know it. The
danger was that the frightened horses might turn and pull the vehicle
around, upsetting it in the deep water below, and as the fallen horse
struggled, Middleton dashed in on the lower side, and catching the near
horse, steadied him whilst the other got up. Then, springing from his
own horse, he caught the other just as he got to his feet, and held to
him until they reached the farther bank, where he assisted the driver
in bringing them to a stand-still, and enabled the ladies to get out
and see what damage had been done.
He had taken in, even as he passed the carriage in the water, that the
two occupants were an elderly lady and a young lady, the latter of whom
appeared to be holding the former; but it was after he reached the bank
that he observed that the younger of the two ladies was one of the
prettiest girls he had ever seen. And the next second he recognized her
as Miss Cary. She evidently recognized him too. As she turned to thank
him, after she had helped her companion from the carriage, the color
rose to her face, appearing the deeper and more charming because of the
white which had just preceded it, and which it so rapidly followed; and
there was a look in her eyes which was part shy embarrassment and part
merriment. He saw that she knew him, but she did not admit it.
He began to examine busily the harness, which was old, and had been
broken in several places. He had some straps on his saddle, he said,
which he would get. The girl thanked him, with quiet dignity, but
declined firmly.
They would not trouble him. Gideon could mend it, and she could hold
the horses. She bowed to him, with grave eyes, and made a movement
toward the horse, holding out her ungloved hand to catch the bridle,
and saying, “Whoa, boy,” in a voice which Middleton thought might have
tamed Bucephalus. Miss Thomasia, however, mildly but firmly interposed.
“No, indeed, my dear, I’ll never get into that carriage again behind
those dreadful horses, unless this—this—gentleman (the word was a
little difficult) stays right by their heads. I am the greatest coward
in the world,” she said to Middleton in the most confiding and friendly
manner; “I am afraid of everything.” (Then to her companion again, in
a lower tone:) “It is very hard to be beholden to a Yankee; but it is
much better than having your neck broken. And we are very much obliged
to you, sir, I assure you. Blair, my dear, let the—” She paused and
took breath.
“_Yankee_,” said Middleton, in a clear voice, much amused, as he worked
diligently at a strap.
“—_Gentleman_ help us. Don’t be too obstinate. Nothing distinguishes a
lady more than her manner of giving in.”
So, as Middleton was already at work, the girl could do nothing but
yield. He got his straps, and soon had the breaks repaired, and,
having, at Miss Thomasia’s request, held the horses while the ladies
re-entered the vehicle, and then having started them off, he stood
aside and saluted as they passed, catching, accidentally, Miss Cary’s
eyes, which were once more grave. The only remark she had volunteered
to him outside of the subject of the broken harness was in praise of
his horse, which was, indeed, a magnificent animal.
A few minutes later, the young Captain galloped by the carriage, but he
did not glance in, he simply saluted as he passed, with eyes straight
to the front.
When he reached home that night Larry Middleton was graver than usual;
but little Thurston, after hearing of the adventure, was in better
spirits than he had shown for some time. He glanced at Middleton’s
half-discontented face, and burst out:
“‘Oh! cast that shadow from thy brow.’ It was clearly Providence. Why,
Larry, after that they are obliged to invite us to dinner.”
“Why, she didn’t even speak to me,” growled Middleton, puffing away at
his pipe. “And I know she recognized me, just as clearly as I did her.”
“Of course, she recognized you—recognized you as one of the enemies of
her country—a hated oppressor—a despicable Yankee. Did you expect her
to fall on your neck and weep? On my soul! she’s a girl of spirit! Like
my own adorable Elizabeth! All the same, we’re as good for invitations
to whatever they give as a dollar is for a doughnut.”
And when a day or two later a note from Dr. Cary, in a formal
handwriting and equally formal words, was brought to Captain Middleton,
thanking him for his “opportune and courteous aid” to his daughter
and cousin, Lieutenant Thurston declared that it was an invitation to
Middleton’s wedding.