Northern Light by Annette O'Hare Read Free Book Online Page A

know what it’s like to be a slave then.”
    “What?”
    “I understand the Irish are the barely paid slaves of the North. Am I correct?”
    “Well, I suppose ye could say that.” Thomas scratched his head. “I can attest to the fact that it were the Irish who dug the canals, and it were the Irish who laid the railroads up north, and for what…a penny and a pat on the back. That’s what! And me people are no more welcome to associate with the hoity-toity New Yorkers than the Negro is with his owner.” Thomas braced his side. The outburst caused a sudden ache to arise. How did he do that? I was quite prepared to defend the North and the man causes me to curse the very town I come from.
    Mr. Logan raised a single eyebrow and his mouth curled up in satisfaction. “Sorry, Mr. Murphy, didn’t mean to rile you so. Do you want to know my opinion?” He held the bowl of his pipe and pointed at Thomas with the mouthpiece. “This war did not start out to be about slavery as you may believe. Of course, there are plantation owners willing to send their sons to their death to keep their slaves. But did you know that the tyrannous North refuses to recognize the rights of the South?” Mr. Logan’s voice got higher and louder with each word. “Did you know the South is only allowed to sell its cotton and raw materials to northern factories? We can’t sell out of the country either. And worse yet, the North has the backing of Congress, who levies the taxes so high on their finished products that we can’t even afford them down here. And that, my friend, is why the South made the decision to secede from the Union.”
    Thomas squirmed a bit in the bed. Anything he said could be taken the wrong way, and he in no way wanted to offend the man who was feeding him. He changed the subject. “So, Mr. Logan, what are ye planning to plant in yer garden?”
    Mr. Logan relaxed back in his chair and took a draw from his pipe. “I’ve got a good batch of seeds saved up from last year’s crop. We’ll be putting out turnips, lettuce, Brussels sprouts, collards, spinach.” A grin rose on the man’s face. “And here’s one you’ll like…Irish potatoes!”
    Thomas laughed. The thought of digging his hands into soil gave him a good feeling. “Mr. Logan, do ye think I might be able to help ye with yer garden, sir?”
    “Well, I don’t know. Seems the missus has you on a pretty short leash. I’ll have to check with her whether or not you’re able to leave the house yet. But that would sure free me up to do some other things around here.”
    “Oh, I’d be much obliged if ye would ask. I’m so ready to get out of this bed.”
    Mr. Logan laughed. “I’ll have Margaret prepare the seeds, and I’ll see what I can do to get you a reprieve from the warden. Oh, but if you do get Caroline to give you a work permit, take care that you steer clear of my beehives. I don’t want you swoll up with bee stings.”
    “Aye, so ye keep bees. Do ye get much honey from yer hives?”
    “We get a fair amount of return. Enough to slather on our biscuits and sweeten our coffee, I suppose.” He nodded his head. “Oh, and we use the wax for our candles too.”
    Thomas was excited at the thought of getting on his feet again. “Mr. Logan, do ye mind if I ask ye another question, sir?”
    “I supposed there’s not much I can do to stop you.”
    Thomas was growing to like this man. “Well, I was wondering…you and yer wife have treated me with such hospitality. And yer children have all taken to me—all…except for…one, yer precious Margaret. I don’t understand why the young woman feels so much hatred toward me. She’s such a beautiful lass…I hate for her to harbor such awful feelings inside. It can’t be good for her.”
    Mr. Logan puffed on his pipe and gazed up at the ceiling as if thinking how to answer the question. “Thomas, my daughter has seen a great many disturbing things since this ol’ war began. It broke her heart when she