Free All Things New by Lynn Austin

gathered on one of the corners. “They look just like the soldiers who lived in the Big House after you and Miz Eugenia left.”
    “We don’t have to be afraid of them, Lizzie. The Yankees in Richmond treated us real good. And if they hadn’t put out the fires, the whole city would have burned to the ground. They gave us food, too. I think we can trust them.”
    They eventually came to a dirtier part of town with run-down shacks and warehouses and the railroad station. “I believe that little brick building is the one Saul was talking about,” Otis said. “Come on.”
    The front door stood open, and a young Yankee soldier sat behind a desk inside. Lizzie and Otis knew better than to go through the front door, so they walked around the building and knocked on the back door. A moment later, the same young man opened it.
    “May I help you?”
    Otis removed his hat and gave a little bow. “Good evening, sir. We’re looking for the Yankee who’s helping all the slaves. Is this the Freedmen’s Bureau?” He spoke the title clumsily, as if unused to the strange words.
    “Yes. You’ve come to the right place. I’m Alexander Chandler.”
    Lizzie stared as the man extended his hand for them to shake. When neither of them took it, he lowered it again. Mr. Chandler looked much too young to work at such an important government job. He was tall and skinny, and instead of a beard he had a lot of bushy whiskers on both sides of his face but not on his chin or below his nose.
    He smiled, and his light blue eyes looked kind. “What can I do for you?”
    “Well, sir. I’m Otis and this here is my wife, Lizzie, sir.” She could tell that Otis was nervous. She was, too.
    “Pleased to meet you both. Come on in. And listen, you don’t need to use the back door. Come in the front way next time.” He led them through an unlit room crowded with boxes and into the office in the front of the building. A big desk, piled with papers, filled most of the space. “You know, this is really your office, ” he told them.
    “ My office?” Lizzie echoed. What in the world did she need with an office?
    “Yes. It was set up to help freedmen, like you. Have a seat.” There were two chairs right in front of his desk, but neither Lizzie nor Otis dared to sit in them.
    “Excuse me, sir,” Otis said, “but I never have sat down with a white man in my whole life. It ain’t allowed.”
    “I understand.” Mr. Chandler nodded and remained standing, as well. “Where are you folks staying?”
    “We belong to one of the plantations just outside of town called White Oak.”
    “You mean you used to belong to them,” Mr. Chandler said with a smile.
    “Yes, sir. Well, we’re still working and living there, even though everyone else is gone. My brother, Saul, said we should come talk to you. He says we need to hear what you have to say.”
    “I’m glad you did. We know there are a lot of freedmen like you who are wondering what to do and where to go, so this agency was set up by the government to help you get a new start. And since food is scarce down here, we’re trying to make sure you’re all fed, too.”
    “Thank you, sir,” Otis said. “Miz Eugenia says she’ll feed us if we keep on working for her, but the white folks don’t have much to eat, either.”
    “You can take some supplies home with you tonight. Do you have children?”
    “Yes, sir,” Lizzie said. “Three of them.” Mr. Chandler smiled again, and she thought he must be a contented person, deep inside. She couldn’t get over the fact that he was talking to them as if they were as white as he was and they were all sitting around his parlor having a chat. Couldn’t he see they were Negroes?
    “How old are your children? School age?”
    Lizzie had to think for a minute. She kept track of their ages by counting how many planting seasons had passed since they were born. “Jack is six, Rufus is eight, and my daughter, Roselle, is fifteen.”
    “The reason I ask is