Editor’s Note: This is an ongoing series which runs each Thursday morning titled the Richland Chronicles, by author Paul Lintern. It is set in the 1860s and tells the story of Richland County through the eyes of young people. The books are available from Lintern for $25 a set, tax and shipping included. Each book is about 120 pages written for intermediate readers (4th grade) with local illustrations. Volume I is Amelia Changes Her Tune. Volume II is Isaac and Wolf Paw Find Their Home. Volume III is Autumn Keeps Her Secret. Volume IV is Mr. Gamble Starts a School. Volume V is Jacob Blows his Horn. Volume VI is Cassie Fights the War.
The news was always on everybody’s lips in Mansfield, indeed in every town across the country. The telegraph had allowed rapid spreading of any event, true or otherwise, and newspapers were in constant contact with each other, passing along what was known about anything.
The students in Emilene’s fourth grade class were as talkative as ever when they arrived Monday morning at West School on First and Mulberry. Miss Porter, their teacher, seemed to know that many questions were on the hearts of her students and so she was less concerned about shushing them and more interested in teaching them.
“Class, this morning we have much to discuss before we get to our lessons. Who was able to see President Lincoln’s train Friday night?” she asked.
More than half the students raised their hands, including, of course, Emilene.
She’ll never call on me. Hope the others have as good a story as mine.
“I seen him go by in Crestline,” Buck said.
“I SAW him go by in Crestline,” Miss Porter said.
“Then we musta been near each other, but I didn’t see you.”
Everybody laughed, even Miss Porter. It seemed that each student’s family had picked out a special location to watch, between Shelby and Crestline — a ridge, a shed, a family farm, a barn.
They all commented about the rain and how it did not stop them, about the lateness of the hour and how they were able to stay awake, about the slow pace of the train and the solemness of its passing, about the sadness of seeing Mr. Lincoln’s body lying in the casket in the last car.
“Did you know that his son Willie was in the train, too?” Billy chimed in.
“He was only 10 when he died in ’62,” Thomas said.
“They dug him up so he can lay next to his father,” Richard said.
I don’t even know where my father is, Emilene thought.
“Why do you think so many people went to such an effort to see the train?” Miss Porter asked.
A flurry of comments poured out.
“I went because my father said he saved the country for us, and died doing it.”
“I wanted to see it for myself.”
“He was a people president. We all knew he was looking out for us.”
“I’m glad he’s dead.”
Everyone went silent. They all knew who said it. Jed.
“Mr. Spencer, that was a cruel thing to say,” Miss Porter said.
“But it’s true. He drafted my daddy, my daddy went to Virginia, and Johnny Reb shot him dead. I’m glad ol’ Abe is dead.”
I can’t blame the President. My father volunteered. He volunteered to leave me.
“Mr. Spencer, as I have told you many times, I truly am sorry for your loss, and there are several in here who feel that same pain — Daniel, Esther, Emilene — and no one can fix it for you, I realize. But Jed, we have to move forward. We have to help each other through this. We have to forgive and ask God for strength.”
“But God wasn’t there when Johnny shot my daddy, otherways he’d a brung him back. He coulda brung him back with a piece missing, I’da been good with that.”
Like Nate.
“Miss Porter,” Lucinda raised her hand. “Yesterday in church the preacher said this is a time for letting go of all the hatred and anger because otherwise it will eat into us like a carcinoma. He said the last four years is evidence of that.”
“It surely is, Lucy, but that is not an easy thing to do, and Jed, I understand more than you know. Please, set your sights ahead. It’s what your daddy would want you to do.”
That’s easier said than done.
“And I know that is easier said than done, but do it we must,” she said.
Jed just looked down and fixed his gaze at a spot on the floor.
Another hand went up. It was Dorthea.
“Miss Porter, in my church yesterday we prayed for soldiers that died on a steamship in the Mississippi. Do you know what that was?”
“No, Dorthea, I don’t know about that. I hadn’t heard.”
Oh, that’s what Mr. Day talked about. Up shot Emilene’s hand.
“Miss Porter, I heard Mr. Day talk about it. He said a big steamer with lots of Union prisoners exploded on the Mississippi Thursday, and nearly 2,000 died!”
The students gasped.
“He also said that many from Mansfield were on it as well, as many as 100.”
The students began talking excitedly. Miss Porter had to pound the desk with her ruler to get the class to quiet down.
“I wish I knew what the facts were, Emilene. I know Mr. Day to be very reliable and you, too, but until we are sure, be careful what we say.”
I know what I heard, but then, Mr. Day was not entirely sure.
“Yes, Miss Porter,” Emilene said.
After school, the girls gathered around Emilene to ask about the new children that were living with the Pleasants. She had mentioned them at lunch but only mentioned. Because of where they lived, they would be attending East School.
“They are nice, Lily and Ivy. Lilly is our age, and Ivy a year younger. I only got to visit with them a short time with Sarah Day and her brother,” she said.
“They darkies?” a voice asked. Jed, again.
“I don’t use that word, Jed. Yes, they are Negroes.”
“Figures. Now that the war is over, they’ll be invading like flies.”
Emilene turned to give him what-for, but he had already passed by and down the stairs.
