Vernon Stevenson, owner of the barbershop and godfather to Nate’s daughter, Magic, wandered in. “What’re you doing, Eli?”
He explained and a grin split the barber’s face as he hooted, “Hot damn! That’s good news. Be nice to have the Gazette going again. You planning on cleaning the place up?”
Eli nodded while wondering if mice had gotten in over the winter.
“Be glad to lend a hand if you need one. No customers at that moment. I’ll grab some brooms.”
By later that morning the news that Eli was expecting an important visitor who might help him reopen the Gazette spread across the Grove. It also brought volunteers to help with the cleaning, among them his mother, Abigail, and her husband, the irascible old lumber beast Adam Crowley.
“Is it true, Eli?” his mother asked excitedly as she moved into the doorway aided by her carved ebony cane. “G. W. Hicks wants to buy the Gazette?”
Eli greeted his mother with a smile. “Not sure about the buying, but he might be interested in adding us to his syndicate.”
Pleased, Adam nodded. “Be a good thing.”
“Yes it would be.” They stepped outside so he could talk to them and not be in the way of the sweeping.
Abigail searched her son’s face. “Adam and I truly hope this will be the offer we’ve all been praying for.”
“Even if you are a Democrat,” her husband tossed out with a grin, arms crossed over his massive chest.
The topic of Eli’s political affiliation was a never-ending, yet friendly, debate between the two men. “Everybody’s going to be a Democrat before long, Adam,” Eli pointed out confidently. “You’ll see.”
“Not while I’m living.”
Eli counted himself amongst the small but rising number of Black men registered to vote as Democrats. With the majority of the race still in the pockets of what the national press called the Lily White Republicans, Eli and other like-minded individuals were showing their disillusionment with the party of Lincoln and its increasing refusal to back issues most important to its Black constituency by aligning themselves with the much-hated Democrats. Of course, he had nothing but contempt for the southern members of the party who’d rather commit murder than allow Black men to vote, but the Republicans were taking Black votes for granted. Something had to be done to shake them up, and Eli and the other Black Democrats hoped this would be a way to bring that about. “Adam, if all men of good conscience would just consider…”
Abigail held up a hand. She’d heard this argument a hundred times before. Looking pointedly between the two men she loved best, she stated, “You two can pick up this eternal argument at another time. G. W. Hicks is the topic for now. When will he arrive?”
Eli grinned at Adam. Although Abigail would never admit it, she was as irascible as her husband. “Tomorrow’s train.”
“How long do you think he’ll stay?” Adam asked.
Eli shrugged. “But I’ve talked to the Quilt Ladies. They’ll be putting him up while he’s here.”
The Quilt ladies were the self-appointed moral society of the Grove and the owners of the best boardinghouse and dining room in the area.
“He’ll enjoy that,” Abigail added. “Caroline and her ladies can be harpies sometimes, but they run a fine house.”
A short while later, the work was done. Eli thought everything looked fine and hoped Hicks would agree.
After having dinner with Abigail and Adam, Eli went home to his small cabin and dug out the Gazette’s ledgers, along with some of the old copies of the paper he’d saved and his subscription lists. He was sure Hicks would want to review the financial aspects of the operation, so he planned to have them available.
At the height of the Gazette’s popularity, there’d been subscribers as far west as Chicago and as far north as Muskegon. The Detroit area had its own Black papers, very popular papers, but the Gazette had a few subscriptions on that side of the state as well. Then, after his funds ran out, he had nothing. No subscribers, no newspaper. Hicks was supposed to be a man of vision. Eli hoped it was true because reopening the Gazette would put purpose back into his life.
It hadn’t always been that way, though. In fact it had taken him quite some time to figure out what to do with his life because, as a young man, chasing women had been his one and only passion. On many occasions his mother had accused him of being too handsome and too arrogant for his own good, and she’d been correct. Every scrap of trouble he’d ever gotten himself into had been because of his affinity for the softer sex. Back then he’d juggled women like a performer in a circus act with mistresses in Kalamazoo, Niles, Muskegon and one particularly talented brown-skinned beauty across the lake in Chicago. Filled with hubris he’d even committed the cardinal sin of sleeping with Nate’s first wife, Cecile, while Nate was away fighting Lincoln’s war. All their lives they’d been close as brothers, but after Nate learned the adulterous truth, Cecile was sent packing, divorce papers in hand, and Eli? Nate refused to speak to him, or acknowledge his presence. As far as Nate was concerned Eli no longer existed.
Eli dropped his head into his hands at the painful memory. The guilt and shame had been so much he’d turned to the bottle, becoming pariah to both family and friends. Although the liquor had him convinced that being an outcast hadn’t mattered, it had.
Then, five years ago, Dr. Viveca Lancaster blew into the Grove like a western cyclone. After the dust died, she and Nate had fallen in love, and Eli and Nate began taking small steps toward reconciliation. Eli doubted Nate would ever fully forgive him, nor would Eli ever forgive himself, but the cousins were closer now than they’d been in a long while and were pleased with the healing of the rift everyone in the Grove thought permanent.
With that episode no longer coloring every aspect of his life, he was doing his best to stay on the straight and narrow. Being the publisher and editor of the Gazette had been instrumental in helping him achieve that. Now having caught the attention of G. W. Hicks the future looked bright.
The train from Detroit was late, which only added to Eli’s nervousness. When it finally arrived in a hail of smoke, whistles, and brimstone, he had to inhale deeply to regain a semblance of calm. Dressed in his best brown suit and with his Sunday hat in hand he searched the faces of the passengers exiting from the train for the man he’d come to greet. A woman with two small children stepped down onto the platform first, followed by a bearded elderly man and an equally old woman. When no one else appeared, he wondered if maybe Hicks had missed the train somehow, and his feelings began to deflate. Then down stepped a portly dark-skinned man sporting graying muttonchops, and dressed in a fine black vested suit and snow white shirt, and Eli began to relax, even as the nervousness took wing again. G. W. Hicks. Had to be him. The newspaper magnate looked a bit rumpled as would be expected after the long journey from New York, but he had an air of authority about him that seemed to radiate.
Eli walked over and inquired politely, “Mr. Hicks?”
The man gave him a quick up and down. “Yes. And you are?”
Eli stuck out his hand. “Eli Grayson. Welcome to Michigan, sir.”
“Pleased to meet you, Grayson,” he offered with a firm grip. “Hoped my letter would arrive ahead of me. Post can be slow.”
“Yes, it can. I received your letter yesterday. Do you have a trunk?”
“I do.”
“Then let’s find the porter so we can be on our way.”
On the ride back to the Grove, Hicks seemed content to enjoy the view. He didn’t volunteer any conversation so Eli remained silent, too, but he could see his visitor taking in the trees and the rolling land with what appeared to be appreciative eyes.
Hicks finally asked, “You born here?”
“Yes, sir. My grandparents settled here back in the thirties.”
“Really?”
“Yes. Came here from Carolina.”
“All that way?”
Eli nodded.
“I was born in Philadelphia. There’s
a good-sized rural area still within the city’s boundaries but nothing as grand as this. Land here takes a man’s breath away.”
The assessment pleased Eli. “That it does.”
“What are the winters like?”
“Harsh and long, but when spring finally comes, we’re reminded why my grandparents chose this place.”
“Beautiful country.”
Eli sensed he’d passed the first hurdle. It was as if the land knew it needed to make a good impression and was showing itself off with style. The sun was shining and the sky was blue. It had rained last night for a short time and as a result the countryside was lush and emerald green for as far as one could see.
“Beautiful country,” Hicks voiced again before lapsing back into silence.
Eli wanted to discuss the reason for the visit but decided it best to wait and let Hicks initiate the conversation.
They made it to town an hour later, and as they slowly drove down Main Street Eli pointed out the businesses.
Hicks glanced around. “No idea you lived in such a small town. Your editorials have such scope I assumed you were from larger environs.”
Inside, Eli grinned in response to the praise. Outwardly, he showed only polite calm. “I wasn’t aware you knew anything about my writing until your letter arrived, sir.”
“Know a lot about it. Know you’re a Democrat, too.”
Eli stilled, and forced his voice to remain casual. “That going to be a problem?”
“If it was son, I wouldn’t have come,” he stated bluntly. “I like a man willing to climb out on a limb. Even when I think he’s wrong.”
Eli knew that Hicks and Adam Crowley would hit it off right away should the two ever meet. “My stepfather holds the same opinion.”
“Sounds like a smart man.”
Eli drove on. He could see folks on the walks eyeing his passage. Everyone knew Eli would be bringing the newspaper man to town that day. A few people even called out welcomes to Hicks, and that seemed to surprise him as well.
Eli explained, “There are no secrets in a place as small as this. Everybody knows who you are and why you’re here.”
“And why do they think I’m here?’
“To put the Gazette back into business.”
Hicks didn’t comment but asked instead. “How many people here can read?”
“Everybody. Male and female. It’s the law.”
“The law?”
Eli met his startled eyes. “Yes, sir. If you’re born here you have to attend school.”
“Females, as well?”
“Particularly females. My grandmother Dorcas had that written into the Grove’s original charter.”
“How interesting.”
“Men from other places who marry Grove women don’t always appreciate having a wife who can think circles around them. We on the other hand don’t mind. Accustomed to it, I guess.”
Hicks sat back. “Incredible.”
Eli smiled inwardly. Incredible indeed.
They rolled past the doc’s office with the big sign out front Nate had erected a few years back.
“Town has a doctor?”
“Yes, sir. My cousin-in-law, Viveca.
“Viveca? The doctor’s a female?”
“Yes. She’s originally from California. Got her training at the Woman’s Medical College of Pennsylvania.”
“Prestigious institution.”
“We’re grateful to have her. Not many townships have their own doc.
“Or a lending library.” Hicks nodded at the building as they rode by. “Who’d have thought such a small place could be so progressive? I’m very impressed, Grayson.”
“Thank you, sir.” Eli’s voice was even-toned but inside he was cheering.
As they drove by the storefront that had housed the Gazette, Eli pointed it out, and Hicks replied, “Looking forward to seeing the inside.”
“Whenever you’re ready, sir.”
Because of all the prizes and ribbons their beautiful hand-stitched quilts had won at county fairs over the years, Caroline Ross, Poppy Pernell, and Brenna Sanders were known as The Quilt Ladies. The elderly ivory-skinned ladies with their antebellum hoop skirts and elaborately coiffed gray ringlets considered themselves morally superior to their neighbors due to the miscegenation in their bloodlines. As a result, when they weren’t winning prizes they were overseeing the morals of the Grove whether the residents wanted them in their business or not.
Usually they acted like queens among the rabble, but when Eli introduced them to Hicks, they fluttered around him like butterflies.
Caroline Ross, wearing a faded green gown with hooped skirts, stepped forward and gushed, “Welcome to the Grove, Mr. Hicks. I’m Caroline Ross. We are honored to have such a distinguished guest in our midst.”
Hicks looked surprised by both her and her attire and he eyed Eli for a moment, but Eli kept his face void of reaction as Hicks replied, “Thank you, Miss Ross.”
She then introduced the others: Poppy, who owned the house, and the violet-eyed Brenna.
“I hope you won’t be put off by the Grove’s country ways,” Brenna stated “We’ve been doing our best to bring a modicum of culture here.”
“On the contrary, I’m finding the Grove to be most progressive.”
“Really?” From her voice one would have thought he’d voiced a preference for women with twin heads.
Hicks explained, “You have a doctor and a lending library. Not many places can boast that.”
“Our doctor has Spanish blood. She’s really quite the lady,” Poppy said with a smile. Of the three Quilt Ladies, Poppy got along with the rest of the Grove the best.
“Just don’t play billiards with her,” cracked a new voice. Out of the back walked Maddie Loomis dressed in her usual brown buckskins. In spite of her unconventional attire, she was one of the most beautiful women in the county: tall, lean, with jet black eyes, and the sleek fluid movements of a cougar.
Hicks blinked.
Eli made the introductions. “Mr. G. W. Hicks, Maddie Loomis. She runs the lending library.”
Maddie stuck out her hand. “Pleased to meet you.”
The gesture seemed to throw him, too, then he shook. “Pleased to make your acquaintance as well.”
She turned to Caroline. “I think the dogs got all the rats in your cellar. If you see anymore just let me know.”
“Thanks, Maddie.”
“You’re welcome. Mr. Hicks, nice meeting you, Eli. See you later.”
“Bye, Maddie.”
Hicks watched her departure, then seeming to realize he was still staring at the door through which she’d exited, he shook himself back to the matter at hand.
Caroline asked, “Would you like to see your room now.”
“Yes. Please.”
Eli sensed Maddie had made an impression but wasn’t sure whether it had been good or bad.
They were taken to a spacious bedroom on the second floor. Putting down his leather travel bag, Hicks looked around. “This will do nicely, Miss Ross.”
“We hoped it would. Would you like something to eat? We’ll be serving luncheon in about thirty minutes.”
“I’d like that. In the meantime, Grayson, why don’t you show me your operation.”
“I’d be honored.”
At the Gazette office Eli stuck the key in the lock. “I took down the glass, so I’m not sure how much you’ll be able to see.”
Once the door was opened, he lit a lantern to supplement the swath of sunlight streaming in behind them.
Hicks stared around the dimly lit space, then settled his gaze on the printing press. “Pretty old press.”
“I believe ancient is more the word, sir.”
“Only the one?”
Eli nodded.
Hicks took another slow look around, then said, “I’ve seen enough.”
On the ride back to the boardinghouse, Hicks kept his thoughts to himself. Eli didn’t say anything either, but he was wor
ried because of the visit’s brevity. When they reached their destination, Hicks stepped down from the wagon. “I’m going to go in and get something to eat, then rest up for a bit. I’d like to have supper with you this evening if we can. What time do they serve?”
“Four. Doors close at six.”
“Then let’s plan on five. Do they happen to have a private room?”
“Yes. Ask Mrs. Ross. She’ll arrange it.”
“I’m impressed by you and your town, Grayson. Since I don’t own any newspapers in this area, we ought to be able to work something out.”
An elated Eli wanted to jump up and down. “Thank you, sir.”
“Bring your books and your wife. Like to meet her, too.”
“My wife?”
Hicks nodded. “Only hire married men. Been my experience that bachelors are unreliable and undependable. A man with a wife and family will give you an honest-day’s work.”
Eli froze.
“She can come, can’t she?”
“Uh. Yes. Yes, she can.”
“Good. Looking forward to our discussion.”
“So am I, sir.”
Hicks walked to the door and Eli turned the wagon around. Stunned and speechless he drove away. He supposed he should have told the man the truth, but he’d been so taken aback by the ramifications of the caveat, he’d said the first thing that popped into his head. Now it was too late. If he went back and confessed, Hicks would not only find another newspaper to fund, he’d think Eli was a liar. Outdone, he asked himself, “Where in hell am I going to find a wife?”
Chapter 2
It was wash day, and a weary Jewel Crowley was glad she was almost done. Doing laundry for her five brothers was work enough, but when sheets, pillow slips, shirts and the rest were tossed in, it was a wonder she got it all done before the sun went down. At twenty-four years of age, she was by society’s measure a spinster. She had no husband and no prospects for one, but she had plenty of wash, she thought wryly, adding six more pairs of denims to the nearly full clotheslines strung between the trees in the field next to the house. She blamed her lack of suitors on the Grove’s remote location—no one of any interest ever came to the Grove—and on the fact that Adam Crowley was her father, and Noah, Abraham, Jeremiah, Ezekiel, and Paul were her brothers. No potential suitor in his right mind would come calling knowing he’d have to face down six burly lumber beasts guarding her like archangels girded for war, so her life was rooted with them instead. Not that she minded. She had a good life, good family and friends, but when she went Home to the Lord, she wanted to have something on her headstone besides She Took Care of Her Brothers.