Tall Tail

Wednesday, October 6, 1784

The eastern side of the Blue Ridge Mountains glowed golden, then reddish, as the sun rose. At sunset the displays behind the range varied from a thin silver shine outlining the mountains to explosions of swirling scarlet, pink, lavender, gold, purple. Few people living within sight of these ancient mountains could resist being mesmerized by them. At sunrise, the mountains themselves change color as the sun, rising in the east, touches them.

Not yet nineteen, Jeddie fell under their spell. Sometimes, with a task completed, he’d sit on an upturned box, a hay bale, or the top of a fence and just stare. He thought about the horses, his desire to improve as a rider and a horseman. He was fascinated by breeding. One needed a powerful memory and for the last three years Jeddie studied every horse he saw, on the estate and off. He would recite their pedigrees the way some men recited John Milton. The more fun-loving recited Chaucer.

This morning, he led Serenissima through a heavy dew. She played with him. She’d push him with her nose. He’d correct her. She’d push his shoulder. Then he’d turn her out. She’d fly away, stop abruptly, turn to thunder right toward him. Then she’d stop in front of him and smack her lips. The lip smack meant many things, and “I love you” was one of them.

He’d pull her lower lip, run his hands over her ears; he’d smack his lips, too. She repeated the running away, the return, and finally a big, big kiss as long as he would continue playing with her.

This morning they played for twenty minutes, the lovely early morning light softening everything.

Jeddie didn’t hear Catherine walk up behind him until Serenissima flicked her ears.

“Jeddie.”

He straightened up. “Yes, Miss Catherine.”

“She likes you best.”

Pleased, he tilted his head to the side for a second and Serenissima nuzzled his cheek. “I love her, Miss Catherine. I will sleep in her stall if she needs me. I will do anything you ask or she asks.” His ear-to-ear grin made Catherine grin back. “I knew you wouldn’t let Yancy Grant have her!”

Catherine held out her hand for the mare to sniff. “He knows horses, but he doesn’t care about them. It’s all money to Yancy.”

“Everyone around knows he offered Mrs. Selisse four thousand dollars for her.”

“That he did. I offered more and this morning I’m feeling poor.” She laughed. “Well, Mother left me some of her money. I expect she thought I would use it as I saw fit. If we breed her with care, I think we will establish one of the finest lines of blooded horses in the country.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Jeddie, there are fine horsemen all over. I find the northern breeders look for a longer angle on the hip. Here, I’ll show you.” She traced an elongated isosceles triangle on Serenissima’s hip. “They want carriage horses. More towns up there, and the estates are smaller. Soils not much in many of those states. A man with exceptional driving horses is a big bug. Here, more riding, running. But wherever breeders are, at least what I have observed, is they aren’t systematic.”

“Yes, ma’am. That’s why I’ve memorized the bloodlines you told me about.”

Catherine smiled at this young man. “Good. Now tell me, how is Crown Prince doing?”

“He can be ornery, but he’s quick to learn.”

“Queen Esther’s bloodline is.” She inhaled the air. “Doesn’t it smell and taste like fall?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Here come Binks and Ralston.”

The two younger boys reached the paddock.

Catherine teased one of them. “The sun came up, but you didn’t.”

Binks, twelve, looked stricken. “Miss Catherine, Momma said I had to sweep out the room.”

“Binks, that doesn’t take that long, but better not to get on the bad side of your momma. Jeddie and I will be back in a little while. But you have time to loosen up Sweet Potato, and Ralston, walk out King David.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Ralston liked King David, such a powerful fellow.

As Catherine and Jeddie walked toward the row of slave quarters, she said, “You’ve been wise, keeping quiet about Moses when he and DoRe brought the mare.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“If people knew what Moses had asked of me to save Ailee from Francisco, they might think all manner of things. Sometimes, Jeddie, I wonder what goes on in people’s heads. Not much that’s good, I fear.”

“Yes, ma’am. Too much loose talk.”

With piles of firewood neatly stacked by the front door, walkways swept, back gardens tended, and colorful flowers by porches, on windowsills, the cabins bore testimony to the artistic impulses of the inhabitants. The slaves didn’t have much, but they made the most of what they had. In particular, the women cared about their flowers. Serena grew huge mums. No one else could match her mums. They all tried. Her sight failing, Old Paulette nurtured her white and purple morning glories, which climbed around her porch posts.

Catherine loved the display. She did her best with her mother’s garden, but she lacked the touch.

Walking down the straight row of cabins brought back memories of her mother in rapt discussion about their flowers with other ladies, who had also departed. Catherine would stand next to her mother as theories abounded and once she remembered Paulette, straight as a stick then, getting worked up with the late Abby over the merits of acorn squash versus pattypan. Paulette was a pattypan devotee.

They reached the weaving cabin, the last in the row, close to the woodline.

Catherine opened the door, the big loom in the center of the large room.

“I like to hear the click-clack.” Jeddie noticed the rug on the loom, half finished.

“Me, too. A woman needs good hands and a good eye for this work. One mistake and you’ve ruined the pattern. Let’s go upstairs.”

The wooden boards reverberated as they climbed up.

“They finished this in jack time.” Jeddie admired the loft.

“Did. I wish they could have tapped into the chimney and built a fireplace up here. Maybe next year. That would take so much reinforcement and time. It’s always warmer up top so maybe winter won’t be so bad up here. Just go to bed with a well-stoked fire.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Catherine looked out the window. The place had real glass, not an oiled skin pulled up or down. At the back of the cabin, the newly built kitchen jutted out. They realized one couldn’t really cook close to the loom and the stored hemp, cotton, linen, and wool, all of which lay on their sides on square shelves downstairs and now upstairs. The large center fireplace in the large cabin also had a mesh screen, a luxury, again to make certain no embers escaped from a downdraft, given the flammable contents of the cabin.

The stairs reverberated again as the two descended. Catherine poked her head in the kitchen. That newly built brick fireplace had on each side huge hearth openings in which to place freshly baked bread. The bread stayed warm next to the flame yet protected from it.

Fireplaces and hearths demanded a careful sense of detail. Those slaves involved in carpentry, masonry, bricklaying, flue building, knew what they were doing. A few had such renown they could be identified by their brickwork or stone work.

Standing in the center of the main room, a cot at one end with a small bureau and table, Jeddie asked, “Is Mr. Ewing gonna make a glassworks?”

“My father resisted spending the money for the glass in this building. Now he thinks he can lure glassblowers here and build a furnace for them. He says if we have our own small forge, we should have our own glassblowers. I asked where he thought he would find them. He said he didn’t know but he would find them. That’s my father.”

Jeddie smiled. “Yes, ma’am.” He changed the subject. “When are John and Charles coming home?”

“Soon, I should think. They will be full of stories.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

As they walked back, the sun higher now, Catherine spoke. “Jeddie, Bumbee will move into the loom cabin. She knows everything about weaving and Bettina said she wasn’t getting along with Howard.”

Howard was Bumbee’s husband, a man with a roving eye. His body roved with it. Bumbee was in her late thirties, and possessed good sense as well as artistic talent. Her rugs, even shirt clothes, had a tight weave or a loose weave, whatever you needed. When asked how she found designs, especially for the rugs, she swore she would dream about them, wake up, and she had it.

The loft also had an outside stairway so one could come and go unnoticed. The woodline would provide cover for Ailee if she left the loft.

“Bumbee threw a pot at Howard yesterday.”

“Hit him?”

Jeddie laughed. “No.”

“Bet he ran like the devil.”

Jeddie laughed. “That man burnt the wind getting away from her.”

“I would, too.” Catherine laughed as well. “If you should see anything, you know, out of the way, down there, someone you don’t know, go up the back stairs and warn them.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“And keep the little ones out of there. There’s Sweet Potato.” Catherine put her hands on her hips. “Well, Binks, she hasn’t bucked you off.”

“No, Miss Catherine, not yet.”

Catherine looked at Jeddie. “Come on. I’ll race you to the stable. Let’s see who can tack up first.”

Jeddie won, but they rode out together, joining Binks and Ralston. Supposedly the four were working horses but really, they reveled in a gorgeous October morning.

—

That night was fog enshrouded and damp. Bettina and Father Gabe led Ailee out of the cave. Her blind side got scraped with limbs and bushes, but they made it to the loom room.

Father Gabe opened the door. Bumbee wasn’t moved in yet. The place, quiet, chilled to the bone. Father Gabe built a fire while Bettina, lighting her lantern now that they were inside, led Ailee up the stairs. Ailee studied the room. It was clean with a bit of color on the floor as Bumbee put down one of her red-and-yellow rugs. A small bed with a horsehair mattress covered in canvas was tucked in the corner. Bettina had made the bed with old sheets and two blankets. A pitcher, bowl, and water stood on the nightstand.

“Ailee, the men will carry up a bureau tomorrow. We’ll fill it with clothes. You’ll be able to keep warm. All will be well.”

Ailee nodded.

“If anyone comes that you don’t know, or you see a white man walking down the row and you don’t know him, you go out that door, out the stairs, and the woods are right there. There’s a narrow path, you can go as far down as you like. No one will see you go out. One of us will come and bring you back when all is safe.” Bettina liked the loft, liked being able to look out high. “I will visit you every day and Bumbee will cook until you can. God bless.” Bettina kissed her cheek.

Once alone, Ailee walked around, touching everything. Then she lay down on the bed, pulled up a blanket. The left side of her face still hurt.

What a good place this would be to live with Moses. She cried and cried, finally falling asleep.