They feared leaving the room unattended, several times they had come home to find a family trying to move in. Ben had chased them off and ordered his wife to stay put while he and George went to look for work. There was no door on the room, there was no privacy, no light, nothing but dank air and darkness. Ginny sat for hours waiting fearfully for her husband or son to return.
They had only a few candle stubs, which they used at night when they ate their meager fare. The winter was long and cold, the damp grinding into Ginny’s bones. Her hands started to curl with arthritis and her joins ached miserably. Ben had finally found work at a slaughter house, he earned a nickel a week, he was also allowed to bring home bits of bone and hide. George rummaged around for kindling and debris to use for fire. His mother needed something to keep her warm and to cook. Ginny kept a sharpened piece of iron handy, for any who would not be turned away with mere words. There were many who were desperate, needing to find shelter from the harsh and deadly winter. Life was miserable at best for Ben and his family. They planned to head back to the Anderson farm as soon as the weather broke and spring’s warmth on its way.
During the long trudge back down south, they had encountered Charlie and Jane, and their two sons, Willy and Teddy. They had dismal luck in finding work, there were just too many ex-slaves and immigrants to compete with. They had long ago used up their money they had been given. When they had passed through Pennsylvania, Carl and Ellen, with their three, Mary Beth, Sue and Thomas, had joined in the small party and made their way back to the Anderson farm.
Theo had welcomed them back with open arms, grateful for more help. The families took over Liza’s old cabin and Bethy’s cabin. The men built another cabin for Ben and his family. Liza moved into a smaller cabin, the one Patina had lived in.
“It sho is good ta be home. That world done gone crazy.” Ben said, wiping tears from his eyes.
It was good to be home, they all agreed. Life was hard at best, but worse if you were an ex-slave. The whites treated the ex-slaves with indifferent repugnance up north and barely concealed hatred down south. The only way to go was west and everyone feared the red savages that lived out there. The Anderson farm was a sanctuary in the middle the tempest that now held the recovering country.
The Anderson farm thrived because of the joint effort between Theo and the people that called the farm home. The children grew under Mary’s guiding hand, she had taken Drake and Rachel under her wing, knowing that Patina would have wanted it that way. Theo was grateful. Though Theo still grieved after his beloved Patina, he loved and reveled in his children. Theo never married; he could not bare to bring a woman into his home. He knew she would never love his children, their blood tainted with slave blood. Theo didn’t see it that way, but he knew that the people in the area and white people in general did. There had been a few incidents, when hooded riders came through. Tom, Henry and several other men stood shoulder to shoulder with Theo, refusing to be intimidated by the hooded cowards. The hooded demons had berated Theo for his mongrel children, threatening to take them away. Theo had shot one of the men between the eyes, telling his cohorts that should any of them ever enter his land again, he would shoot first and ask questions later.
Several more attempts were made and several more men were shot. After the fourth one, no one else dared to come onto the land. Word spread that Theo Anderson was a crack shot and a deadly and persistent enemy. With the solid phalanx of men on the farm, there weren’t many who were foolish enough to push their luck. Death was a sure thing on the Anderson farm.
Subsequently, none of the Anderson inhabitants were openly harassed. When any of them went to town to trade or do business, they went en masse, the men carried farm implements, their deadly threat apparent. The towns people soon went back to their lives, though still watched warily from their windows.
Life settled once more into a rhythm of hard work and laughter. The children of the farm were all taught to read and write, Mary held class in the morning. Ida absorbed learning like a sponge, Drake and Victor had to be separated, they constantly played in the makeshift classroom. Rachel was a natural, loving anything to do with drawing. Theo had purchased canvas, paints, paper, pens and pencils for his daughter, encouraging her love of art.
Lil Theo was enthralled and bewitched by Carl’s twin daughters, Mary Beth and Sue. The girls carried him around like a little prince, until he was too big to carry. Thomas, who was sixteen, seemed the most obsessed with learning. His haunted eyes
