Page 6 of Just Imagine
“Oh. Well, I guess I’m just inherently prejudiced. The Yankees killed my dog, Fergis. Best dog I ever knew. I mourn him to this day.”
Magnus’s expression softened a little. “What’s your name?”
She paused for a moment, then decided it would be easier to use her own first name. Behind Magnus’s head she spotted a can of Finney’s Harness Oil and Leather Preserver. “Name’s Kit. Kit Finney.”
“A mighty funny name for a boy.”
“My folks were admirers of Kit Carson, the Injun fighter.”
Magnus seemed to accept her explanation and was soon outlining her duties. Afterward, they went into the kitchen for breakfast, and he introduced her to the housekeeper.
Edith Simmons was a stout woman with thinning salt-and-pepper hair and strong opinions. She’d been cook and housekeeper for the former owner and had agreed to stay on only when she’d discovered that Baron Cain was unmarried and there’d be no wife to tell her how to do her job. Edith believed in thrift, good food, and personal hygiene. She and Kit were natural-born enemies.
“That boy is too dirty to eat with civilized people!”
“I won’t argue with you there,” Magnus replied.
Kit was too hungry to argue for very long, so she stomped into the pantry and splashed some water on her face and hands, but she refused to touch the soap. It smelled girlish, and Kit had been fighting everything feminine for as long as she could remember.
As she devoured the sumptuous breakfast, she studied Magnus Owen. From the way Mrs. Simmons deferred to him, it was obvious that he was an important figure in the household, unusual for a black man under any circumstances, but especially for one who was so young. Something tugged at Kit’s memory, but it wasn’t until they’d finished eating that she realized what it was. Magnus Owen reminded her of Sophronia, the cook at Risen Glory and the only person in the world Kit loved. Both Magnus and Sophronia acted as if they knew everything.
A pang of homesickness struck her, but she pushed it away. She’d be at Risen Glory soon enough, bringing the plantation back to life.
That afternoon when she finished her work, she sat in the shade near the front door of the stable, her arm draped across Merlin, who’d fallen asleep with his nose resting on her thigh. The dog didn’t stir as Magnus approached.
“This animal’s worthless,” she whispered. “If you was an ax murderer, I’d be dead by now.”
Magnus chuckled and lowered himself beside her. “I got to admit, Merlin isn’t much of a watchdog. But he’s young still. He was only a pup when the major found him rootin’ around in the alley behind the house.”
Kit had seen Cain only once that day, when he’d curtly ordered her to saddle Apollo. He’d been too full of himself to take a few minutes to pass the time of day. Not that she wanted to talk to the likes of him. It was just the principle of the thing.
The Yankee newspapers called him the Hero of Missionary Ridge. She knew he’d fought at Vicksburg and Shiloh. Maybe he was even the man who’d killed her daddy. It didn’t seem right that he was alive when so many brave Confederate soldiers were dead. And it was even more unjust that every breath he drew threatened the only thing she had left in the world.
“How long’ve you known the major?” she asked cautiously.
Magnus plucked a blade of grass and began to chew on it. “Since Chattanooga. He almost lost his life savin’ mine. We been together ever since.”
An awful suspicion began to grow inside Kit. “You weren’t fightin’ for the Yankees, were you, Magnus?”
“ ’Course I was fightin’ for the Yankees!”
She didn’t know why she should be so disappointed, except that she liked Magnus. “You told me you were from Georgia. Why didn’t you fight for your home state?”
Magnus removed the blade of grass from his mouth. “You got a lot of nerve, boy. You sit here with a black man and, cool as a cucumber, ask him why he didn’t fight for the people who was keepin’ him in chains. I was twelve years old when I got freed. I came North. I got a job and went to school. But I wasn’t really free, do you understand me? There wasn’t a single Negro in this country could really be free as long as his brothers and sisters was slaves.”
“It wasn’t primarily a question of slavery,” she explained patiently. “It was a question of whether a state has the right to govern itself without interference. Slavery was just incidental.”
“Mighta been incidental to you, white boy, but it wasn’t incidental to me.”
Black folks sure were touchy, she thought as he rose and walked away. But later, while she put out the second feed for the horses, she was still mulling over what he’d said. It reminded her of several heated conversations she’d had with Sophronia.
* * *
Cain vaulted from Apollo’s back with a gracefulness unusual for a man of his size. “Take your time cooling him out, boy. I don’t want a sick horse.” He tossed Kit the bridle and began to stride toward the house.
“I know my job,” she called out. “Don’t need no Yankee telling me how to take care of a hot, sweaty horse.”
The words were no sooner out of her mouth than she wished she could snatch them back. Today was only Wednesday, and she couldn’t risk getting fired yet.
