been confirmed with a toast by the British general Hugh Gough at an uncomfortable dinner hosted by General Grant after the surrender of the British forces at Hamilton.
Toronto had fallen without a shot, and the Americans were now well east of the city at Oshawa, and, to the north, had taken Guelph. Grant was consolidating and taking Ontario as he wished. The remaining British forces were frantically entrenching at Ottawa and Montreal, while Grant, unknown to them, had no intention of pursuing them that far. At least not in the foreseeable future.
“Now that the slaves are free, all we have to do is free the slaves,” Nathan said cryptically.
The Emancipation Proclamation had freed only those slaves in the rebelling Confederate states. Those slaves in the so-called border states remained in bondage. Lincoln was able to free the slaves in the rebelling states by acting in his capacity as commander in chief of the armed forces. As such, he was striking at an enemy's capability to wage war. However, he had no such authority over those states not in rebellion; thus, their freedom awaited an act of Congress. This was being debated, with the only problem to be resolved being the amount of compensation to be paid to the slave owners.
In the meantime. Lincoln had promised a grant of one hundred dollars for each adult slave who made it north from the Confederacy. This would be given either in cash, land for resettlement, or passage back to Africa. In conversations with free black men, the Union government and the abolitionists had been astonished at how few wanted to go to Africa, even to Liberia, the nation founded by the United States on behalf of freed slaves. The vast majority of the black freemen had been in the United States all their lives, as had generations before them. The importation of slaves had been legally halted more than a half century before; thus, many Negroes were descended from slaves who'd arrived in America well before many white people. They had no cultural ties to Africa, only the faintest possibility of distant relatives in the Dark Continent, as few blacks had any real idea where in that enormous continent their ancestors had come from, and no desire to go to a land they all perceived as savage and barbaric.
The United States had terrible problems regarding Negroes, but to most black people it was still better than living in Africa. Or the Confederacy.
The freeing of the slaves was considered a major political stroke against Great Britain, as it put England squarely on the side of slaveholders. Previously, she could claim that the North held slaves, too, so what was the difference? The British government had quickly tried to claim that the retention of slavery in the border states was blatant cynicism on the part of Lincoln; thus the urgency to pass the legislation that would free slaves everywhere. It amused Lincoln and Seward to be outmaneuvering the old fox, Lord Palmerston.
General Scott had commented that the outflow of slaves from the South would be crippling economically to the Confederacy, and would be damaging militarily. Many troops would have to be assigned to protect slave owners' property and to return those slaves who attempted to migrate north.
Militarily, the North had won a great victory in Canada. Politically and morally, the North had won a great victory with the Emancipation Proclamation.
“I have missed you,” Rebecca said, “and your fame as a negotiator goes before you.”
“When you're in a position of such enormous strength as General Grant was, you are dictating, not negotiating,” he said. Although only a colonel in an army filled with colonels, he had noted a degree of respect conferred on him in brief meetings with other officers encountered en route to Washington. It was heady stuff, and later he was to meet with Lincoln and Stanton to discuss both Grant and the Canadian situation.
She shifted so that she was kneeling on the couch and facing him. She was not wearing hoops, which would have made the move ludicrous, if not impossible, and she moved with a dancer's grace. “Enough of politics and emancipations,” she said with a catlike smile.
Nathan pulled her to him and she slid across his lap. Her arms went about his neck and they kissed with an intensity that astonished both of them. They broke free and stared at each other. Then they laughed softly.
“Like young adolescent children, aren't we?” Nathan grinned.
“But alone,” she whispered. She recalled her brothers taking young girls into the shed behind the house and returning later all disheveled and flushed. She laughed inwardly at the memory. None of her brothers friends had tried to take her into the shed.
They kissed again and Nathan felt himself getting aroused. For a moment he felt embarrassed, then reminded himself that Rebecca'd been married for several years and doubtless knew what was happening to his body.
She pulled her lips away. “Do you know what the future will bring, Nathan?”
“I don't have a clue,” he said hoarsely. “But I hope and pray that a large part of it will be with you.”
“As do I, dearest Nathan. But we are alone for the first time since we met, although it's likely to end at any moment. So let us take advantage of it while we might and, yes, like adolescent children.”
Again they kissed. Nathan's hand cupped her breast. She withdrew it, smiled, and unbuttoned the top of her dress so he could slide it in and caress her bare flesh.
She groaned as the feel of his hand on her nipple erased any other memories. “Whenever you want me. I'll be your lover.” she said. Their caresses were more actual lovemaking than she'd had in three years of marriage.
“You already are my lover,” he muttered as he nibbled her ear. Both knew their culmination wouldn't be this afternoon or even in the foreseeable future. The house, however large, was too small for them to be unnoticed, and it would not do for them to attract attention. They would wait for the right time and place.
Hannibal Watson fired his shotgun directly at the oncoming horse and rider. Both buckled and fell heavily as the shotgun pellets shredded their skin. The horse scrambled to its feet blind and screaming like something demented. One eye hung from a socket. The rider, a white man in his early twenties, was on his hands and knees and covered with blood. Hannibal drew his knife and slashed across the man's neck. He slumped and lay still as his blood gushed out onto the ground.
All around Hannibal, a dozen other skirmishes were taking place as black man and white man hacked and shot each other. The battle had been accidental. The two groups had blundered into each other while moving down the same trail. In neither case was there time to deploy or withdraw. In seconds, they were all fighting for their lives.
The freed slaves were winning, although a number of black bodies lay on the ground. They outnumbered the white riders about two to one, and, while the surprise had been mutual, Hannibal's men had reacted more quickly and with a ferocity born of desperation.
In a moment, it was over and a half dozen riders flew for safety down the trail. Once again, Hannibal groaned, they had left survivors who would bring still more riders back down on them. Hannibal thought they were close to the Tennessee border, but he wasn't sure. Having to avoid towns and roads made telling distance a good trick.
It also looked like his earlier fear that they would never see freedom in the North was coming true. The Emancipation Proclamation had resulted in a doubling and redoubling of Confederate patrols in an attempt to catch slaves fleeing north. The lure of freedom and the promise of money, some said a thousand dollars while most thought it was a hundred, was virtually irresistible, especially to those slaves who were young and strong. Older slaves might be afraid of the effort needed, or be too sickly to try, but a large number of young slaves were more than restive. They wanted their freedom, and they wanted it now.
“Gather everything,” Hannibal yelled. His people, those who were left, were too busy celebrating. The fools. The time for celebrating would be later, if ever. Once he'd had more than a hundred people, but constant skirmishing and marching had whittled that down to half and this days fighting had further depleted his numbers.
“They'll be back,” Hannibal hollered again and saw that he'd finally gotten their attention. “And this time there'll be more of them. That was militia we fought and not just red-neck slave catchers. Where there's some militia, you'll find a lot more. Let's go!”
Buck kicked and cajoled some of the more tired onto their feet. They'd just fought a hard battle. They were exhausted and many were wounded, some badly. These could not be taken on the retreat, as they would slow down the healthy. Those who could not get up and who did not look like they could keep up, were quickly dispatched by Buck, who was not deterred by their feeble cries of protest. It had to be done. One of them was Bessie, who'd been with them since the first day and who had pretended to be a lost slave on more than one occasion. Her arm had almost been severed by a sabre slash and her blood puddled beside her.
