Three

Clement’s Hotel 15 January 1831

 

Black Judith brings me the weekly paper after one person or another leaves it in the parlor or in the dining room. This morning’s paper [name of paper] contained a Letter to the Editor railing about the laxity of the Town Constable in failing to prevent illegal horse-racing on the main thoroughfare and beyond.

I am certainly in agreement, although I am too new to Greensborough to know what attempts, if any, the Constable has made. I remain doubtful of the civility of this town, but it is gratifying to know someone is literate and conscientious enough to make the complaint. Poor lad, but my sympathies truly lie with the mother. I well remember the heartache attached to a child’s unexpected death.

This afternoon, I walked to my husband’s place of business. Last time I was there, he had a simple sign saying “Blacksmith.” I noticed this time that John added to his sign, “John LeBois, Proprietor.” There was a small sign to the side says, “Horseshoes, Wagon Repair, Carpentry” in a vertical column. He hopes to soon add, “Cotton Gins” to it. I feel such pride in him! He is always tinkering on something and building an improved gin is of the highest priority.

Unsure I could walk or stand much longer, John brought his wagon around to take me down to our house. I could see from the shop the two chimneys, but I could also see part of a frame. As we drove down the path to it, I could see more and more.

Between John’s shops and where John began building the home he intended for us, a cabin is being built. It is for a Mr. Shackleford who, John says, has a good business owning a dry goods store. Such an endeavor must be profitable since several other stores are located within a hundred yards of where his is which is near to the corner opposite John’s shops.

It appears it will be a modestly large home. The frame and roof show it will be a two-story structure, similar to our home in Perry County, but larger. Several stacks of logs split lengthwise were stacked on the sides of the house, and a few rows of the logs were already in place. The flooring also.

I did not linger on the Shackleford place, for the next building had come into view.

“John LeBois, I thought we talked about this!”

“We did.”

“And I thought Mr. Gayle advised you not to build anything! I did not say anything further about your shops because you seemed determined to open business there and I figured you could sell the buildings to someone. But, the house…”

“Mr. Gayle advised me I was taking risks by building on rented land. He left it to me to decide if the risks are worth it.”

“Left it to you…”

I turned away so he did not see my tears of indignation. I know of no man who consults his wife over such things, yet I somehow believed John would do so.

We pulled to a stop and I could no longer look away.

“Oh… John…”

The frame of the main house was up, and the roof started. I could see it will be a grand house. Do I dare to dream it, when it might be taken from us?

My tears of consternation changed over to tears of feeling blessed. Maybe this will no longer ours someday, but even a few moments here is beyond what I have ever hoped.

John lifted me from the wagon. I had my rugged boots on which I have been using the past few years when outdoors in muck. Though I could do little more than waddle, and even that with John’s help, I wanted to see more.

The January sun was fading, shining its remaining rays onto what will someday our front door. Maybe onto our front veranda, maybe through the western windows of my bedchamber. I always wanted a house which faces west so that I could watch the sunset each day as I rock on my porch.

The floors are not yet built, and though John wished to walk around the interior of the house to get an idea, I was not going to risk twisting an ankle or worse. John bounded over the foundation, and, looking toward me, shouted to me “and this is where the staircase will be built” and “the windows on either side of the chimneys will be here!” Then he climbed over the back wall and kept striding.

“This will be the wing off the back!” Then, “and this is where we shall build the kitchen with room on the second floor for the servants!”

I motioned I could not understand what he was saying any longer because he was at such a distance. Just before the sun set, John returned to my side and helped me back into the wagon. We are staying only a few hundred yards away, but I was quite worn out.

#

Last night, the Clements invited John, Patsy, Tommy, and me to dine at their residence next door. My sister arrived yesterday with my nephew Tom. It was quite the feast!

“We have much to celebrate!” Captain Clement pulled out a chair for me, and then Patsy, while indicating where John and Tommy should sit. “I believe this shall be a splendid year. The four of you are among our very first guests in the hotel, and I am honored. You know,” said he, pointing a glass toward John, “your husband was among the first group of Methodists who met in this very house! And tomorrow, though many years later, we shall join together here again.”

Capt. Clement explained they have not yet raised sufficient funds to build a proper church. The lot is purchased, but that is as far as they have gotten.

“We shall soon have the funds, sir.” John hesitated, cleared his throat and continued. “I have been in discussions with John Erwin and he is prepared to donate a princely sum.”

“You know my feelings on the matter, Mr. LeBois.”

“I do. This is why I have not before discussed it with you at length. If the jury can find the man innocent, so must we. We should not be judging even if they found otherwise.”

“Mr. LeBois,” I began, interrupting because I could not help it, “what charge was brought?”

“Murder. Rather, dueling, but the state looks at it as the same.”

“Oh, John!”

I could not help but revert to my husband’s Christian name. This was beyond what manners could dictate.

“This is the man from whom you are renting the land? A man who dueled? Oh, John, I suspected he was of ill character.”

My husband dabbed the corner of his mouth with his napkin and placed his hand over mine, caressing it.

“My darling, it was Mr. Gayle who represented him, and I am certain he would not represent one whom he felt the law should punish. Mr. Gayle has a fine mind and unassailable character, and now he is the Speaker of the House of Representatives in Alabama, running for governor!”

Captain Clement suggested he and John should continue discussion on the matter for another time. “I believe we are about to be served a fine dessert, and then, Mrs. LeBois, it is my hope you will play something for us on the piano!”

Mrs. Clement thankfully intervened, noting that it is not proper to ask such a thing of a guest who likely will require her bed very soon. I do not yet know her, but I hope Mrs. Clement is a woman upon whom I can safely rely in the future.

#

*****Add that John received funds from John Erwin to build his first full-scale cotton gin for Mr. Erwin to use on his property [check date.] Another reason to trust and forgive.*****

Last Sunday, John, Patsy, and Tommy attended services in the Clement home, and I have returned to the pattern of solitude expected of women in my condition. Patsy returned within an hour and a half, saying John and Tommy were lingering for the luncheon after the services.

“Mrs. Clement saw to it her girl will bring us plenty to eat! Given that Judith will be the primary cook, we are assured all meals will be delicious!”

“Patsy, am I a shrew? An unreasonable, demanding consort?”

“What do you mean, Louisa? I cannot imagine!”

“I wish I could understand how John just does not see what kind of man this Mr. Erwin is! I feel he will take advantage of my sweet husband. He sounds rather ruthless.”

“Louisa, you have not met the gentleman, and your husband knows him well. Do you not trust John’s judgement in the matter?”

“I hardly think John knows him beyond brief words concerning a business transaction, one of many, no doubt. He is just so trusting, always the optimist. I have a bad feeling about the man and his so-called ‘word’…”

Tonight, Mrs. Clement’s girl, with the help of another, brought up our meal. At a time when I should be always famished, I scarce could eat a bite. Patsy was more than happy to have both our portions.