Indentured

by Jeanie P Johnson

  “Sam, take Leatrisha’s trunks up to her room. The last one at the end of the hall, and Tipsy, can help her unpack.”

  Sam swung the trunk up on his back as though it hardly weighed a thing, and Leatrisha, started to follow him, but then she turned.

  “Would you mind if I took one of your horses from the stable, and went for a ride?” she asked. “I would like to see everything.”

  “I could take you,” he said, but I have some things to do first.

  “I would rather go alone,” she told him.

  “If you wish. I’ll tell Felix to saddle you a horse.”

  “I don’t need a saddle. I will just put on my trousers, and ride bare back,” she insisted.

  “Very well. I said you could do as you please until I need you,” he murmured.

  The look in her eye bothered him though.

  A half hour later, Rand looked from his window, to see Leatrisha, dressed in her boy’s clothes, her hair streaming down her back, the same dark color as the horse she rode. She had picked a high strung black, and Rand shook his head. The horse suited her, he thought. He was the only one who ever rode that horse, because the black was so hard to handle, yet Leatrisha seemed to ride it effortlessly, letting the horse have it’s head as she galloped it down the road between the cotton fields.

  His mind went back to the night in the hotel, his hand on her was like soothing a high spirited horse, he thought idly to himself. He could still feel her trembling under his hand, and hear her murmurs as he showed her the wonders of her own body, and how the touch of his lips or hands could expand her inner world. The remembrance of the taste of her, and the smell of her lingered in his head. Just thinking about it now, as he watched her body rise and fall with the movement of the horse, excited him.

  But he didn’t like lingering on memories of that night, because it was just too dangerous. The six years had barely begun and he was beginning to doubt his ability to keep a strict rein on the situation already. He had to keep reminding himself that Leatrisha was a child, budding into womanhood. She didn’t have enough maturity to be the wife of an important plantation owner. She would throw the place into a tizzy, if he gave her even one small thread of responsibility. All she was good for, so far, was as a decoration on his arm at dances and parties, where she could practice her lessons at being a lady, and keeping Monica in her place. Other than that, she may prove to be a millstone around his neck.

  Leatrisha, relished the feel of the wind in her face, and her hair flowing behind her. The thought of riding besides James, flashed through her mind, and stabbed her heart. Where was James now, she wondered. She hoped he would be able to find what he was looking for in America.

  This horse could easily make it over any rock wall, she smiled to herself. James was right about Pepper. She was fat and slow, but this black carried her over the dirt road like she was literally flying, and it gave her the sense of power she did not feel when she was in the plantation house.

  There she was just another object. While she was not a slave like the rest of the black people on Rand’s plantation, she was still an object that he owned, and in six years, she would leave his services, and become someone else. She just didn’t know who at the moment. She felt a sense of loss. At least in England she knew who she was. She was a Crawford. Someone important who could have any upstanding man as her husband, if that was the kind of life she had wanted to live.

  Here, she wasn’t sure who she was. She wasn’t a slave, yet she wasn’t an equal, even though she had her freedom to do as she pleased, she did not have any position except as a deceptive bride to be, who couldn’t even go to her so called future husband’s room, if she pleased.

  The thought of that beautiful quadroon, sharing Rand’s bed, was even worse than the thought of Monica doing it. Rand wanted the quadroon in his bed, and would continue to have her there. Rand had awakened Leatrisha’s body enough to allow her to know that being in Rand’s bed would be something special, if he ever actually wanted her there beside him.

  She wished he had never touched her, because then she wouldn’t know how it felt. James had not made her feel that way. He hadn’t had time to do much but cause a strange excitement to grow, but Rand had brought that excitement to it’s fullness and allowed it to bloom into something beyond description.

  The horse seemed to tire. She had allowed it to have its head. Like her, it had been cooped up too long, and needed to stretch its legs, but now its restlessness was spent, and she took the time to look around her, as the horse started back in the direction of the plantation.

  Leatrisha liked the sound of the singing that hit her ears, as she got closer to where the slaves were working the fields. She slowed her pace even more, as she entertained herself by watching the group walking through the fields, pulling long white sacks that were strapped over their shoulders, behind them, each taking a row of cotton and pulling the white puffs from the plant, depositing them in the bag.

  Leatrisha noticed a young girl, that was farther behind the rest, pulling her bag as she picked the cotton. She began keeping pace with the girl as she tugged at the bag.

  “Hello,” she said to the girl.

  The girl barely glanced up. Leatrisha could see that her fingers had little spots of blood on them, barely visible against her dark skin.

  “Your hands are bleeding,” Leatrisha announced.

  The girl shrugged, and gave a fearful glance in Leatrisha’s direction.

  “I’m trying to keep up,” she mumbled.

  “Why are your hands bleeding?” Leatrisha pressed, not able to figure it out. The cotton was soft.

  “I’m not getting blood on the balls,” the girl insisted. “I was hurrying too much, and kept hitting spikes around the cotton,” she explained.

  “Spikes?” Leatrisha climbed down from the horse’s back, and walked over to where the girl was dragging her bag.

  “On the cotton plants. When they get dry, they push up the cotton, but the part that holds the cotton, has points on them, and you have to be careful to keep your fingers back from them when you pull out the cotton. I was in too much of a hurry. I have to finish my rows before sundown, or I don’t get my evening meal.”

  “How old are you?” Leatrisha asked.

  “Ten, I think. I’m not sure.”

  “What’s your name?”

  “Sissy.”

  “How can they expect you to pull this bag and keep up with the others?” Leatrisha asked.

  “I’ll get stronger,” the girl promised.

  “But you are not strong now. Not strong enough to keep up with the rest,” Leatrisha insisted.

  Leatrisha pulled a ball of cotton from one of the plants as she walked beside the girl, her horse following slowly beside them on the road.

  “Two sets of hands can work faster than one,” Leatrisha told her. “I bet between the two of us, we can catch up with the rest. What do you think?”

  “Oh, ma’am, I can’t have you helping me pick cotton. You aren’t a slave. You come from the big house.”

  “So what. I am free to do as I please,” she insisted, as she started picking the cotton balls and throwing them in the girl’s bag. “Oh, I see what you mean,” she said, as she sucked on her finger that she had pricked on the cotton plant. “I will have to be careful!”

  The two of them walked side by side, picking cotton, as the horse followed, and slowly they started to catch up with the rest, as Leatrisha helped Sissy pull her bag. “Teach me the songs you are singing,” Leatrisha begged.

  The girl looked at her like she couldn’t believe that Leatrisha was asking. Slowly the girl began to sing, and Leatrisha copied until she finally caught on. Sissy giggled.

  “You make a strange looking darkie. Wearing britches, and all. Where did you come from anyway? You talk funny,” she said.

  “I am from England, which is a long ways from here over the ocean. Your master brought me back with him.”

  She didn’t tell Sissy that she was s
upposed to be Rand’s future bride, because she didn’t think it made any difference to the girl who she was anyway.

  The two of them started in singing again, and by that time they were practically up to the rest of the group, who looked over their shoulders in surprise at the young white girl picking cotton beside Sissy.

  “And what do you think you are doing?” Leatrisha heard Rand’s voice booming at her.

  “Hello, Rand,” she said cheerfully. “I am learning how to pick Cotton, and sing those wonderful songs your slaves are singing,” she announced.

  “No, my dear, that is not what you are going to continue to do. Step out of the fields, this moment. You are supposed to be my future bride, not my slave. Look at your hands! You will have them scared, if you keep this up!”

  “So, your slaves all have scared hands, and you don’t seem to mind,” she returned.

  “They are not my future wife,” he said.

  “And neither am I,” she hissed.

  “Lettie! Mind your mouth! Now step out of the field, and get back up on your horse, or I will forbid you to ride out alone any longer.”

  “Sorry, Sissy,” Leatrisha said. “You are almost caught up now, though,” she smiled.

  “Thank you, Ma’am,” Sissy said.

  Rand got down and placed Leatrisha back up on her horse, and then remounted his bay.

  “What did I tell you about the slaves?” he asked, as they rode side by side back towards the stables. “They are objects of service. You don’t work with them, you don’t sing with them. You don’t make friends with them.”

  “She is only ten, and couldn’t keep up. I was just helping her,” Leatrisha snapped. “You act like they don’t have any feelings, or know pain. Did you see her hands? And you worry about mine!”

  “Her hands will toughen up in time. Your hands are not supposed to toughen up. While you have the run of the place, and I don’t care what you wear when you go out riding, you will still conduct yourself as though you are my future wife, even though you may never become my future wife. Letting you work besides the slaves, will make me a laughing stock of the area, if the word ever got out. My future wife is supposed to be on the same level of breeding as I am.”

  “And you said there is no status in America? I fear you were misleading me,” she murmured. “While your wife must be on the same level of breeding, apparently the breeding of who you take to your bed, doesn’t matter! Strange how that works,” she hissed, and kicked her horse forward, but Rand caught up with her by the time they reached the stable.

  He pulled her down off of her horse, letting the groom lead both of their horses away.

  “You seem to be preoccupied with who I take to my bed. What concern is it of your’s? he asked, as they walked side by side, he holding her arm so she couldn’t pull ahead of him.

  “None what so ever. I just see so much contradiction in your actions and your words, it boggles my mind.”

  “What I do, is my business. And what you do, is my business as well. You just keep that in mind, if you want to continue to have your freedom.”

  Leatrisha, looked stonily up at him.

  “Of course,” she mumbled.

  Rand looked at her blazing green eyes that sparked at him, even while her voice was calm and quiet. “I love it when you look at me so passionately,” he whispered, as he pulled her to a stop. Then his arms were crushing her to him, as his lips took over her senses. When he lifted his head, he chuckled, at her surprised expression.

  “Can’t I even kiss my future wife?” he asked teasingly, and then left her and went on into the house.

  “Future wife, my behind!” she hissed, as she followed him in.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Leatrisha glanced down the hall, and stopped motionless, with her hand on the knob of her door. Rand had put her at the opposite end of the hall from him, as far away from his room as he could stick her, she thought angrily to herself. T he quadroon’s room was right next door to Rand’s room, and she fumed inside, as she watched the woman, wrapped in a red wrapper, come out of her own room and enter Rand’s room. Her hand was shaking on the knob, and she was so confused at why she even cared. But she could not be in the house when she knew that Rand would be taking the beautiful slave to his bed.

  Instead of going to her own room, she turned and went down the hall and down the back stairs. She needed air, and freedom, she told herself as she found herself running to the stables. As she entered the stables, she slowed. There were soft voices coming from somewhere inside, and somehow they pulled her towards them. Tender sounds being exchanged by two people, a man and a woman.

  She could tell by the accent that the voices belonged to slaves. She thought all the slaves were supposed to be in their houses. It was the rules. But she didn’t want to actually get anyone in trouble. She was just curious as to why there were slaves in the stables at night?

  “Sam,” she heard the woman whispering, “you sure know how to love a body,”

  Leatrisha put her eyes up over the top of the stall door, where she was standing, and looked down in the stall. The light from the lantern hanging in the main walkway, shown dimly into the stall. Just enough to see it shimmer on their black bodies. She took in her breath, when she realized the two of them had no clothes on, but she couldn’t pull her eyes away, as she watched the large black slave lowering his head over the woman laying in the straw. She could not see the woman’s face, because Sam’s body shadowed it.

  Leatrisha’s eyes widened even more, when Sam turned, and she could see him completely. The size of him astonished her, and as he lay himself over the woman, she remembered how Rand had explained to her why a man was built like that. She heard the woman let out a moan of pleasure, when he began to move.

  Leatrisha stood mesmerized watching Sam move against the woman, the dark muscles of his back bulging, and the woman crying out with each move he made. This was what Rand was doing with Mazy, she thought. What he could never do with her, because she was a virgin, and no man had ever used her that way before. The fact that the woman was crying out in pleasure, urging the man on, made Leatrisha realize that what they were doing must feel as good or better, than what Rand had done to her at the hotel with his hands and mouth.

  She watched to the finish, as Sam let out a low cry himself, and then fell against the woman, telling her how wonderful her body was, and how good it was to be with her like that.

  Slowly Leatrisha moved away, and continued on down the walkway, until she came to the black’s stall. She put the bridle over his head, and quietly led the horse out of the other end of the stable, so she would not have to pass the stall that the two slaves were in.

  As soon as she was outside, she swung herself up on the black’s back, and raced away, down the dirt road, feeling the wind in her face, pushing the tears from her eyes. She wasn’t sure if it was the wind in her eyes or her own emotions that created the tears, but what difference did it make? This was the only kind of freedom she could feel, as long as she remained an indentured servant.

  Rand looked up, as Mazy entered his room. She was the most beautiful quadroon he had ever seen, and couldn’t believe his good fortune when he was able to purchase her. But now, he could not bring himself to look into her eyes. Her alluring body tempted him, and it had been so long since he had had a woman completely, that he should be ravishing her the moment she stepped into the room.

  “I have missed you,” she murmured, as she came to the bed.

  “You look as beautiful as ever,” he sighed, as she opened her wrapper to expose her nude body to his view.

  “I am always here for you master,” she whispered, sitting on the side of the bed, and running her hand down his chest, until she reached that part of him that was slowly coming alive, but he reached out his hand, and stopped her.

  “I am tired,” he murmured. “I have had a long voyage, and…”

  “It is your future wife you desire,” she said in a low voice. “I see the way you loo
k at her. It tells me you have not had her yet,” she stated.

  “She’s a virgin,” was all Rand said.

  “All the more reason to use me instead,” Mazy reasoned.

  “But not tonight,” he whispered. “Not my first night home. I should probably go to her and make sure she is settling in all right. We sort of had words earlier today.”

  Mazy stood and pulled her wrapper back around her.

  “I am always at your disposal,” she said, and left the room.

  Rand rubbed his eyes. What was coming over him? The imp was bewitching him! He got up from his bed, and pulled his robe on, and then went down the hall to Leatrisha’s room, and knocked. When there was no answer, he pushed the door open, expecting to find her asleep in her bed, but the bed had not been slept in. What was she up to now, he asked himself as he went to his room and pulled on his trousers, and then headed down stairs?

  The house was quiet. Most of the slaves were gone to their own houses. Where did the imp go? Rand walked out towards the stables. She loved horses. Maybe she was out to be with the horses, he reasoned. As he approached, the stables, he saw Sam and a young slave from the fields, coming out of the building.

  “Why aren’t you in your houses?” Rand asked.

  “I was getting ready to go stoke all the fires,” Sam told him.

  “What about her?” Rand asked.

  “He was helping me get some water from the well. We were looking for a bucket in the stable,” she told him.

  Rand pointed to a bucket by the wall of the stable. “Apparently you missed that one,” he grumbled. “Have you seen my woman out here?” he asked.

  “Nope,” Sam said.

  “You sure?”

  Rand started to get that same sinking feeling he had gotten when he couldn’t find Leatrisha on the ship. Had she decided to run away, he wondered?

  “I’ll check the stalls just to make sure,” Rand said, and walked past them. He went straight to the black’s stall, and when he saw it empty, he knew she had taken the horse. Rand grabbed his bay, and threw the bridle on it, and then swung up on it bareback, and headed down the road, wondering if she was riding away from the plantation towards town to escape, or just out to ride for the thrill of it?