Tall Tail

Saturday, September 11, 1784

As promised at the Friday dinner, DoRe Durkin and his son Moses brought a blooded mare to Catherine. Catherine Garth Schuyler’s fame as a successful breeder had spread throughout the mid-Atlantic. Ewing, proud of his daughter’s singular achievement, one that no man could subsume, urged Francisco Selisse to deliver his best mare to be bred to Reynaldo, Catherine’s powerful yet refined stallion. Catherine adored riding this fierce horse, scaring her father and sometimes even John, for the animal was hotter than a pistol. Yet he loved Catherine and obeyed most times.

Jeddie Rice hurried out of the barn when he heard the open wagon clunking along. The mare, Serenissima, was tied to the back, trotting along.

“She’ll live like a queen.” Jeddie took the sleek chestnut by her halter, good English leather.

Moses fell in on the other side of the horse while his father pulled the wagon away from the front of the large stable, large enough for three cupolas and one big weather vane in the center of the roof.

DoRe climbed down slowly. Like most horsemen, sooner or later one limps. He walked into the stable, his lopsided gait giving off an irregular beat.

Looking around, he said admiringly, “Best stable in Virginia. Miss Catherine thought of everything.”

“That she did,” Jeddie agreed. “The hardest part of building this stable was getting her father to agree. We still use the old stable.” He indicated it with his eyes as he led Serenissima into her stall. That was in an older, smaller stable twenty-five yards behind this one, a covered hallway connecting them.

DoRe shook his head. “Francisco wouldn’t spend a penny on a walkway, but he’ll order furniture from France.”

Moses, glum, said nothing.

As she’d seen the mare arrive, Catherine walked from the house to the stable. She handed an envelope with tips to DoRe and one to Moses.

“She’s a beauty. DoRe, did you talk Francisco into this? He can be hardheaded, you know?”

DoRe grinned. “No, Miss Catherine, you did.”

Moses knelt down on one knee. “Miss Catherine, I beg you to help me.”

Shocked and fearful, DoRe put his hand under his son’s armpit, hauling him up. “Pay him no more mind than if he was a goat barking.”

Eyes filling with tears, the young man disobeyed his father. “He violates my Ailee. He forces her, Miss Catherine. She has finger marks on her throat and sometimes a black eye and Missus Selisse beats her, declares she entices him.” Trembling, Moses sobbed, big racking sobs.

Catherine, distressed, touched Moses on the shoulder as she looked from his father back to him. “Sit over here, Moses. You, too, DoRe. Jeddie, please fetch these men something cooling.”

Led by Catherine, the two men dropped onto stacked hay bales. She pulled one into the aisle while DoRe swiftly put another bale onto that.

“Miss Catherine, this isn’t a fitting chair for you.”

Catherine smiled her dazzling smile at DoRe. “It’s not only fitting, it’s welcome. I’ve been standing and talking to my father for over an hour. You know how Father can go on.”

Nodding, smiling, DoRe sat down. “Do, Miss Catherine, do. But he knows what he’s talking about.”

Moses was crying still. Looking over at Catherine, he said, “You have your mother’s heart. Oh, please, help Ailee, Miss Catherine.”

Jeddie returned with lemonade; Bettina had fixed a pitcher and a tray with four glasses. Before Jeddie reached the stable, Bettina hustled up behind him.

“Gimme that tray, Jeddie. You have no more couth than is on a yellow stick.”

Meekly, the wiry young man allowed Bettina, who had tied on a brighter headscarf than she wore in the kitchen, to take the tray. Jeddie followed.

Catherine looked up. “Oh, Bettina, thank you.”

“Jeddie, pull over another hay bale,” Bettina ordered. “Now you all refresh yourselves. I know you two men are hungry, but I wanted to find out would you like something cold on this September day or something warm?”

While the soul of hospitality, Bettina also wanted to visit a bit with DoRe, who had lost his wife two years back. She knew a good-looking man when she saw one, and a hard-working one, too.

DoRe stood up, as did Moses. “Oh, Lord, an angel can’t cook as good as you.”

Waving him off, Bettina repeated, “Cold or hot? I have stuffed eggs, sliced chicken with crisp skin and my special tiny potatoes, in a bit of crème with parsley. That’s to set you up for peach pie. Oh, I forgot the biscuits, butter, and you know my raspberry jam. You two men need to fortify yourself for that drive home.”

DoRe held up his hand. “Bettina, stuffed eggs, cold chicken, you are temptation itself. Our missus would kill to get your cold-chicken recipe.”

Bettina, with an edge to her voice but smiling, said, “She’d have to.”

“Can we help you carry anything?” DoRe offered.

“No, the girls can help.” She shot a look at Jeddie. “You get on in the tack room and fix up some kind of table, you hear?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Jeddie nodded.

As Bettina left, Catherine watched her walk, head high, singing to herself. Jeddie sped into the tack room.

Catherine returned to Moses. “Shall I assume everyone knows?”

“Can’t hide the bruises.” Moses wiped his eyes.

“I say leave it,” DoRe added. “It’s the way things are, and Master will flay Moses alive if he gets in the way.”

“Yes, he will. Francisco’s evil temper is no secret,” Catherine agreed.

“You have your mother’s heart and your father’s brain. That’s what folks say about you. I will do anything you say to help my Ailee,” Moses pleaded.

“Yvonne is the head woman over there. Can she help?”

“She tries to keep Ailee busy, away from him,” Moses answered, “but he comes looking for her when he wants her.”

“Is there anyone who has it in for Ailee? Another pretty girl? A field hand who wants her?”

“All the men want her, but she’s mine.” Moses uttered this with pride. “She’s a good girl. She pays them no mind. She’s polite. I don’t think any of the girls want to hurt her.”

DoRe interjected. “They’re glad he’s after her and not them.”

“Yes, of course.” Catherine understood. “Can you think of anyone who would feed the missus anger or foolishness?”

“She don’t need no help,” Moses bitterly replied. “Sheba fans the flames.”

“Yes, I’m afraid she doesn’t,” Catherine agreed. “And you’re right about Sheba.”

Bettina arrived with two girls pulling a little wagon. Didn’t take five minutes for them to fix up the table in the tack room. Jeddie stepped back. Never interfere with Bettina at the helm.

The middle-aged, well-padded good woman did thank him. “And you can eat some of this, too.”

Catherine walked into the tack room. “Bettina, you outdid yourself. Of course, you must sit down and join us. And the girls, too.”

“Those worthless girls have work to do at the big house.” Bettina smiled at Catherine, then turned to glare at the girls, who curtsied and left.

Catherine smiled. Bettina’s desire to shine was quite obvious, and she did shine. As they all sat at the makeshift table, Catherine couldn’t have given a fig that this truly wasn’t protocol for the lady of a great estate. Catherine did what she wanted, one of the reasons she occasionally frightened her father and delighted her husband.

As they ate, Catherine, after asking permission from Moses, drew Bettina into the problem. There were two reasons for this. DoRe loved his son, and if Bettina could help, well, that might help Bettina, clearly taken with the man. The other reason was Bettina had a good head on her shoulders. She knew a whole lot about a whole lot of people.

Bettina listened gravely, looked at her mistress, then at DoRe. “You need to keep Moses far away from the master. I know you can’t always do that. Keep your boy level.”

Moses cried out, “How can I be level when he’s hurting my woman? He beats her, Bettina. If she doesn’t do his bidding, he knocks her around.”

Bettina reached over, put her hand on his forearm. “Moses, trust in the Lord. You’ve trusted Miss Catherine and now you’ve trusted me. If this can be solved, it’s women who will do it.” She took a deep breath. “Masters sleeping with pretty slaves is as old as your name, Moses.”

“Beating them isn’t,” Jeddie couldn’t help saying.

Catherine loved Jeddie, not only because they’d played together and worked with horses since they were children, but because of moments like these. He was like a brother. She truly loved him, and it never occurred to her that he would want to be free.

As for Jeddie, he could imagine freedom, but not life without Catherine.

“True, so true, but the Lord has set this burden upon these fine people.” Bettina looked at DoRe with sensitivity. “Even Mr. Jefferson takes up with his beautiful Sally.” She inhaled again deeply. “Whether a woman wants the master or not, there are gains to be had. Gains, indeed. With those gains like a serpent’s tongue flickering comes the jealousy of other women, our women, their women and a few men.”

Catherine quietly affirmed Bettina’s thoughts. “Maureen Selisse more than fulfills your prophecy.”

“She would,” Bettina said with disgust. “Moses, hear me. You have been given a terrible trial, and so has Ailee. You must bear it as long as you can. I will set my lights to this—”

“And I,” Catherine pledged.

“But it will take time,” said Bettina.

As the two men prepared to leave, Catherine took Jeddie by the arm, walking out the other side of the barn so Bettina might have a few moments with DoRe.

“I hope the mare catches.” Catherine used the term for a mare becoming pregnant.

“I hope Ailee doesn’t,” Jeddie answered.

She squeezed his arm, then released him. “Jeddie, pray that she doesn’t, because Maureen will kill her. Remember, Mrs. Selisse is barren.”

Bettina now walked back to the house. Catherine hurried to walk with her while Jeddie returned to the stable.

“The sorrows of this life,” Bettina murmured, voice low.

“Come with me, Bettina. Let us speak with Father.”

—

Entering the house, they found Ewing Garth in his study, shirtsleeves rolled up. A sheaf of papers commanded his attention. He was a neat man; tidy piles rested on his desk. A graceful bureau, of bird’s-eye maple and crafted to his specifications, held his current papers, maps, and blueprints. He had it specially built five years back by a master cabinetmaker, Howard Holloway.

He removed his spectacles, turning to them, smiling. “Aha, I am about to be dragooned into something.”

“Yes, you are.” Catherine stood before him, as did Bettina.

She then concisely outlined the problem.

Face darkening, Ewing clasped his hands together. “What can one do?”

“You can buy Ailee,” Catherine firmly said.

Ewing leaned back in his chair. “My dear. I can’t buy every woman so used by her master.”

“Using is one thing, Father. Violating and beating is another, and don’t forget Maureen.”

“Feral, aren’t they?” Ewing blurted out.

“Mr. Ewing, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me,” Bettina intoned, her voice melodious.

Ewing’s hand flew to his eyes, tears rolled down. “Ah, my beloved angel.”

His late wife would quote this from Matthew 25:40.

Catherine leaned down to kiss her father. “She’s always with us, Father.”

“Yes. I lose my way. She brings me back. I will send Jeddie over tomorrow with an offer.”

—

Later, twilight filling their senses, a few bats zigzagging overhead, Catherine and John walked together across the lawn. She’d told him what had transpired.

In the distance they saw Ewing standing in the family graveyard before his wife’s handsome statue, lamb recumbent, holding a cross.

John Schuyler put his arms around Catherine. “Promise you won’t die first. I couldn’t go on.”

Surprised by this outburst, she said, “We do not get to pick our hour, but if God is kind, He’ll take us both at the same time.”

“No, me first. What about the children?”

She laughed. “Ever my practical John. Well, we’d better apply ourselves to the task.”