Read Online Winds of the Storm by Beverly Jenkins - Free Book Online

with Roland and Alfred in her office.
    Roland was at least a foot shorter than his giant cousin, but he had the same muscular build. “Learned all I know from my old master—one of the best gamblers on the Mississippi.”
    â€œThen you’re just the man we need.”
    â€œFor Ms. Tubman I’d walk through fire,” he declared with conviction. “She helped my folks go north back in the fifties, and I’ll always be grateful.”
    Zahra understood his devotion. Araminta was responsible for hundreds of people escaping captivity. “All the gambling operations will be under your control. If there are supplies you need purchased, please let me know.”
    â€œYes, ma’am.”
    â€œYou’ll be reporting back to the Loyal League in Memphis?”
    â€œYes, and they’ll be sending me any news they think you should pass on to the other Leagues.”
    â€œHow are things going for the race there?”
    â€œNo better or no worse than anywhere else. The riots in ’66 let us know who our friends were though, and while some progress has been made, many of us are terrified it will happen again, soon.”
    The Memphis riots of 1866 began harmlessly enough with the collision of two hacks on a Memphis street. One driver was Black, the other White. It evolved into a three-day orgy of hate and murder fueled by mobs, the police and the local news organs. Forty-six people were killed, forty-four of them Black. Eighty-five people were injured. $100,000 of property, goods and money, much of it owned by the Black soldiers and their families stationed at nearby Fort Pickering was either stolen or burned. When the riot ended, a local newspaper crowed, “Thank heaven the white race are once again ruler in Memphis.” But the Congressional hearings convened to investigate the matter found the riot to be “…an organized, bloody massacre of the colored people, inspired by the press and led on by officers of the law…”
    â€œWell, welcome to our odd family,” Zahra said genuinely. “Alfred will show you around the place, then he can take you to some of the boardinghouses.”
    He nodded, and the cousins departed.
    Left alone, Zahra wondered where this would all lead. Opening night was less than two weeks away, and she still hadn’t filled all of her household positions. The most crucial was the cook, who’d been expected to arrive yesterday. According to the railroad agent, the train the woman was traveling on from Atlanta had experienced some mechanical difficulties and would arrive at the station today. Zahra hoped so, because they could hardly have a grand affair without food. Her staff was also on her mind. Although they all came highly recommended, common sense told her that at least one, if not two, would eventually prove untrustworthy. To believe otherwise was to be naive. Trusting Wilma seemed logical, but Zahra knew that many former friends of the race were just that—former. She also knew that if the president or Congress got wind of rumors that some leaders of the race were contemplating leading the freedmen out of the South, the ramifications would roll across the nation like a wave. Radical politicians would lose their constituencies, and planters, their cheap labor. An outraged Congress would probably hold hearings to find the conspirators responsible for “influencing” a race of people the country deemed too feebleminded to think for themselves. So, considering all that was at stake, the only counsel Zahra could wisely keep was her own.
    The cook did arrive later that day, but there was a problem.
    â€œWhat do you mean, she’s not staying?” the confused Zahra asked Lovey, who’d come up to the office to announce the cook’s decision not to take the post.
    â€œShe set one foot inside, looked around, and stomped out. You should come down and talk to her.”
    Zahra found the tall, chesty woman