Page 26 of Because I Could Not Stop for Death

“They have been saying that for a generation,” the first man scoffed. “There will always be those who want to upset the applecart.”

The man with the yellow mittens agreed. “Even when we were fighting the British, there were those who sympathized with Britain. True unity is an impossibility. People need to learn to live with their differences. Let everyone have their space and peace of mind. That’s the true heart of America. We should be showing one another tolerance. Let one man do what is best for him and leave him be.”

“You say this even if what the other man is doing is against the teachings of the Bible?” his companion in glasses asked in disbelief. “Are you saying I should be able to stab another man, and others should tolerate that?”

“You are exaggerating. That is much different from what I mean.”

“Tell me how when Black men, women, and children are being killed and sold like cattle. How is that different?”

“There is slavery in the Bible,” the man in the yellow mittens said gruffly.

“There is also murder in the Bible. Slavery in the Bible was a fact of the time it was written, but the Bible doesn’t condone slavery. It never calls it righteous.”

Yellow Mittens folded his arms across his chest and hid his mittens under his arms. “The truth is we must keep the peace. Let the states decide what it is they want to do on slavery. The Union must not have a hand in it. It will lead to nothing good.”

“That isn’t possible when there are runaway slaves and they pour over into Northern states. What do we do when a slave catcher comes for those men, women, and even children who cross our borders?”

Yellow Mittens didn’t have an answer for that.

“You see,” the man with the glasses said. “You can’t leave it to the states to decide because try as you might it will spill over into the free states and always will until it’s finally decided one way or another. Mark my words, this will come to conflict in the end. What Congress has done so far is just put a piece of thin linen on a seeping wound. It has already bled through.”

Yellow Mittens shook his head. “Americans won’t fight Americans. It’s just not our way. Every state needs to be left to make its own choices. That’s what the country was founded on, states’ rights. To take that away now would change everything. The United States of America would be no more. I didn’t fight in the Revolution and the War of 1812 to have these fools tear apart what we built.”

“Willa, are you ready to leave?” Emily asked in her breathy voice.

I nodded. “Sorry. I suppose you caught me daydreaming.”

“Daydreaming is serious business, and I would never interrupt you unless it was time for us to depart.” Emily smiled at me. “Mother and Vinnie will be wondering what became of us.”

Our conversation caught the old men’s attention.

“Miss Dickinson, when will your father be home from Washington?” Yellow Mittens asked.

Emily turned to look at them. “He will be home at the end of March. There are many things that he needs to do to finish up.”

“It’s a shame that he didn’t have another term. I have always liked your father’s politics. We need more Whigs in Washington,” the man with the glasses said. “They are levelheaded men.”

Emily thanked him.

“When he gets home, have him come see us. We would love to hear what he has to say about all this unrest that we keep hearing about from Washington. I believe that the newspapers are inflating it for sensation,” Yellow Mittens added as he eyed his friends.

Emily nodded but made no promise that she would do that. Without saying goodbye, she walked to the street and waited to cross as two carriages rolled by. Carlo walked over to her, and she patted the dog’s head. “At least we have Carlo to lead us home.”

I wished I could be that confident just to turn away when I didn’t want to speak to someone, but then again, I wasn’t a Dickinson. My snubbing wouldn’t be as well received.

—

Finally that night, after all the chores were through, I removed the brown paper–wrapped package from the pocket of my cloak. I sat on the edge of my bed and held it on my lap. From the feel, weight, and shape I knew it must be a small book. This would not be unusual for Henry to have had since we both had a love of reading. Perhaps he left a favorite novel for me to enjoy. However, I didn’t know if I could read it knowing that it was his last gift to me. When it was read it would be over, and Henry, in heaven I prayed for God’s mercy, would be that much more distant from me.

Maybe I should have shared this moment with Emily. She had helped me. Without her insisting that I go to the stables that day I don’t know when I would have received the package. If I were in Jeremiah’s shoes, I certainly would have been afraid to approach the Dickinson house with a gift for me.

And what would Miss O’Brien think if I had a young man come to the back door asking after me? Nothing good, I wagered.

Perhaps he would have found another way to locate me. I supposed he would have. He seemed determined to keep his promise to my brother.

Inside the brown package was a leather-bound book no bigger than the palm of my hand. A leather cord held it shut. I had never seen it before.

With shaky hands, I loosened the cord and opened the book. I let it lay on my lap no longer tied but still closed. I had no idea what was inside the book, and I was unsure if I wanted to know.

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