The 13th Amendment

Before reading: Note that this story takes place on a plantation in Kentucky in the 1800's. It will be difficult to sympathize with the main character and dated terms are used in the story which are offensive in our present day.

Jonathan William Smith sat on the swing beneath the cover of the porch at the entrance to his home. He watched the members of his household scuttle around as they went about their chores. Marcus, clad only in a pair of britches several inches too short, struggled with an ornery mule. The beast was refusing to pull the plow, as usual. Smith couldn’t blame the animal. The light frost covering the ground this December made turning soil arduous.

Smith had considered purchasing a new draft horse for the chore, but had opted to save the money instead. He had come to the same conclusion when contemplating a pair of shoes for the boy. He considered himself a fair man, though, and decided he would buy Marcus a flannel shirt for the upcoming colder months.

Smith’s breath caught in his chest as Molly came out of her hut to greet the morning. A bright red kerchief helped tame her unruly hair and expose her beautiful, slender neck. The high-collared blouse of her dress covered her bosom, but Smith knew the skin there matched the texture and caramel coloring of that exposed by her bound hair. Last night, when Molly had visited his bed, Smith had spent more time than usual enjoying Molly with his eyes before he did the same with other parts of his body.

Jonathan had been in love with Molly since she’d come to the plantation. It hadn’t been by chance that she’d found herself here. She had been Smith’s greatest prize at a high stakes game of cards hosted by Emeril Lee in honor of the new year in 1852. Molly, one of Lee’s house negroes, leaned over Jonathan Smith’s shoulder that night to top off his cup of ale. She smelled of lye with a hint of lilac.

Smith’s eyes followed Molly every time she entered the room. Emeril must have noticed because he offered her as a last bet to go ‘all in’ on his hand of cards when the play narrowed to himself and Jonathan. Jonathan hadn’t moved a muscle in his face as he made a show of contemplation while staring at the straight flush in his hand.

That night, Jonathan’s wife had balked when her inebriated husband had stomped through the front door of their home and announced he had brought his lady a servant. Tabitha Smith was no fool. She had taken in Molly’s appearance in seconds, observing her lighter skin tone and dress, far too fine for that of a slave, and called to Mammie. Mammie had belonged to Tabitha’s father and had accompanied Tabitha to Jonathan’s house as part of the girl’s marriage gift. Mrs. Smith instructed Mammie to show Molly to her new quarters outside.

Keeping Molly from sleeping in the house and relegating her to manual labor was not a deterrent for Jonathan. Sleeplessness plagued his frail wife, and she regularly took a tonic before bed. The woman woke for nothing. This allowed Jonathan to enjoy Molly as he chose and the relationship between the two blossomed.

Jonathan pulled his mind from the past and stood from the swing. He took several steps forward to have a better view of the yard and propped his forearms on the porch railing. His and Tabitha’s youngest boy, Samuel, was trying to help Marcus get the mule to pull. Jonathan found warmth in the way the brothers could work in harmony. He glanced involuntarily over his shoulder to check on Tabitha through the window. She preferred for her son to maintain a respectful distance from the workers. Samuel’s boot found a soft spot in the earth and the boy’s next step revealed a foot caked in brown muck. Tabitha was going to know Samuel was in the fields again.

Jonathan looked back at Molly. She was watching the two boys as well. He couldn’t see the expression on his lover’s face, but he liked to think she was smiling and enjoying this moment with him. It wouldn’t be long before things changed around here. The Smith Plantation, in the heart of Kentucky, had kept their family together as long as they could. Jonathan would make his announcement today. As a result of the 13th amendment, ratified yesterday, Smith would no longer have control over most of his family.

He would never dream of sending his negroes off into the world alone. As part of his announcement, he would offer lodging and work for anyone who wanted to remain on the plantation. There was no need for anyone to go without. Smith would continue to provide for his negroes until the time they felt prepared to go out on their own.

Jonathan knew some would leave as soon as they heard his decree, but most would stay. Where else could they go? They had no money and little in the way of possessions to barter or hock. It might be less grand, but the family Smith had curated over the years would maintain a semblance of sameness. Not for the first time, Jonathan wished for his wife to share his love of the hand-picked family spread throughout the property. Tabitha remained wrapped in the throes of her embroidery as he stepped from the porch.

One by one, the workers noticed Jonathan standing at the foot of the stairs in his customary place for the day’s announcements. Though comments were made between the dark-skinned folk crowding the area before Smith, none voiced confusion to Smith regarding the unusual time of day for an announcement. As a head of household should, Jonathan prided himself on his ability to greet each negro by name as he or she approached in anticipation of his words. He even remembered to ask Tilly how her infant son fared. He had come into the world several days prior, and though Tilly’s return to the field signified all was well, Jonathan thought it to be a kind gesture to ask.

“Good afternoon,” Jonathan began. “As good Christians, the Smith family will abide by the 13th Amendment to The Constitution of the United States. As I am sure you have heard, you are now all free people. For those of you in need of work and shelter, I welcome you to remain here as part of our family.”

Jonathan Smith had been prepared to go on, offering the services of Molly and their son Marcus to any who wished to depart. He planned to ask Molly to help those wishing to leave to finish up their chores and ask Marcus to drive those leaving into town by wagon. Smith never got the chance. Each of his negroes, men and women Jonathan thought of as extended family, turned and walked away. Some looked over shoulders, uncertain.

Samuel ran from the field to stand at his father’s side. He tugged on Jonathan’s shirt tail to get his attention, but Jonathan was lost in his own disbelief. At the rear of the group, practically herding the force of negroes from the property, was Molly. Jonathan’s heart forgot to beat. She had been so kind. She had cared for him. Jonathan had been so sure of their love.

Tabitha spoke from the porch behind him. “I’m sorry it took a decree from the government to wake you from your fantasy. I know you loved her. I know you loved them all, in your way, but they were never family. You were their owner, not their father. They acted out of fear, not love.”

She turned her attention to the boy at Jonathan’s side. “Come now, Samuel. Leave your father. He needs some time alone to come to terms with the destruction he has wrought upon his family.”