Their first view of the house as the wagon came up over a small rise, took Vanessa’s breath away. It seemed nothing had changed, except for the silence that settled over the place because no one was working the land. Usually, there had been the sound of the slaves singing in the fields, and once the slaves became servants, they also sang in the fields. The house stood regally, situated in the most prominent position, with smaller buildings surrounding it. The pink walls with white trim shimmered in the sun, as the upper story rose above the rest below, which was surrounded by a wrap-around porch with large, square, white pillars, accented with gray painted designs on their faces, supporting the porch roof, and spanning half way around the main floor on either side. The upper arched windows yawned in welcome as the sun reflected off of their panes. Massive, aged oak trees, along with graceful magnolias that must have been there for generations shaded the yard.
A low hedge lent greenery around the porch, reaching the bottom of the railing along the porch floor, three steps higher than ground-level. Happy flowers that had pushed up and had been watered by the spring rains lined the walk leading to the steps of the porch, looking a little wild, as some had scattered to the lawn. Rose bushes, lending their perfume to the riot of aromas, grew over an arbor at the other end of the walk. Not far to one side of the house was another little pink house, where the slaves had once lived, but then was given to the outside workers to live in after the war, while the house servants lived in the basement rooms. Red ivy was making its way up the trellis in front of the porch on the little pink house.
Orange trees, which were now in bloom, filled the air with their sweet fragrance as well, all growing along the drive leading down to the plantation. It was a lovely sight to behold. Vanessa took in a deep breath, filling her lungs with the familiar smells of her homeland.
Beyond the house, in the back were several white outbuildings which consisted of the sugar house that was filled with machinery, a kitchen house where meals for the workers were cooked and served, combined with sheds where carts were stored that were used to bring the cane in from the field, and other sheds where the cane was brought to be crushed. Otherwise, if the cane was not to be turned into sugar on the premises, the bundles of cane stocks, stripped of their leaves, were left in the fields in bundles, so they wouldn’t start to ferment, before loading them onto wagons to transport to the docks. From there, it would all be loaded onto barges or paddleboats, depending on how and where the crop was to be transported. The Mississippi River was a highway for commerce for all farms and plantations along its banks.
There were stables off to one side for the horses and a building to hold the wagons. All the stables were empty now, and Vanessa wondered where they would get the money to buy livestock to use for pulling the wagons of sugarcane to the docks. She was certain the old slaves did not have any horses or mules to pull wagons, and all of her great aunt’s stock had slowly been sold off as business dwindled, and then, eventually, her aunt died. Also they would need farm animals to furnish food for everyone to eat, along with vegetable gardens that would have to be planted. There were already fruit and nut trees which had been part of the plantation’s bounty for years.
Planting new sugarcane shoots wouldn’t even begin until February, and it was past time to get any new plants in since it was now late spring. It would probably take a year to put everything in order anyway, she decided. First they would have to find sharecroppers to farm the land and they would have to cut new cane starters and furnish the plantation with whatever it did not have that was necessary in order to grow the crops. Vanessa realized it was going to be a time-consuming endeavor.
She could see there were still remnants of the old cane field that had continued to grow while she was away. Most cane fields could continue to furnish cane for years, but for good crops they were only used for three years. These crops had not been tended since the plantation had been shut down, and the plants were surrounded by weeds now. Also, none of the old, dry, leaves had been stripped from the canes and they were no longer in uniform rows, as new growth shot out from the older plants in different directions. Because they had not been cut back, their stocks wouldn’t be sweet enough to produce good sugar. None of the old crop could be used until it was cut back and all put in order again, to be made ready for the beginning of a new season.
As they got closer, Vanessa noticed that the shutters had been opened. When she closed the house, before leaving, she had snugged all the shutters tight to protect the windows from storms or prowlers, who may try to break in. That could only mean that someone was there at the house. She assumed it must be the overseer her father had hired, and she felt a little angry that her home had been invaded before she had a chance to return.
As Broken Feather directed the wagon to the front of the house, where he could hitch the horse up to a ring, connected to a post in the front, it was then that Vanessa saw a tall man come out onto the porch. She took in her breath, because she recognized him, and scrambled down from the wagon before Broken Feather could assist her.
“Chandler, what are you doing here?” Vanessa called as she scampered up the steps and threw herself at an old family friend. “I thought you had been killed in the war!”
Chandler staggered back at her sudden embrace, and Vanessa realized he had a cane in one hand, and she had almost thrown him off balance. She straightened up, feeling embarrassed.
“Well you certainly have grown since I saw you last,” Chandler laughed. “I was wounded in the war, and remained at a hospital. I couldn’t remember who I was and so everyone assumed I was dead. When I finally healed, someone visiting the hospital recognized me, and brought me home, where my memory slowly returned to me. The place had been burned to the ground, though, so I stayed with friends. It has been hard going since the war.”
“But why are you here? My father wouldn’t have known you were alive to inform you I was returning.”
“I was told by your lawyer that your father was looking for an overseer to make sure you were able to get the plantation running again. Since your father knew me, he was happy to give me the position.”
“Chandler, this is wonderful!” she cried. Vanessa had expected some old stuffed-shirt to be lording over her to make sure she kept her father’s instructions.
“I was told your husband was killed in some sort of accident on a ranch, where he worked. I am truly sorry, Vanessa. I hope you are able to get over your loss.”
“I didn’t know him very well,” Vanessa murmured. “It was an arranged marriage and we hadn’t had much time to even get to know each other,” she told him, trying to stay as close to the truth as she could so she didn’t’ make any future statements that did not fit the story her father decided to weave about her.
At that moment they could hear the cry of a baby, and Vanessa started, and then suddenly turned from Chandler and ran to the wagon again. Broken Feather was tethering the horse, and Vanessa lifted Glenda up out of the back of the wagon where she had been sleeping in a basket filled with soft blankets. She hugged the babe to her, patting her gently to calm her, while she walked back to the porch, where Chandler stood, watching on.
“This is my…” Vanessa paused and cleared her throat. “…my escort’s daughter,” she mumbled. “Broken Feather’s wife died in childbirth and he was a trusted scout in the army, saving my father’s life, and even my life, while he was in service. Therefore, my father offered him a position here if he would bring me home, and in exchange I offered to take care of Glenda,” she told him, coming closer to show him her daughter.
He limped forward, leaning on his cane, and Vanessa realized his wounds from the war limited his mobility. She felt sorry for him but was overjoyed to see him again and know she would have an old friend staying to oversee her efforts, rather than a stranger.
“Wasn’t Glenda your mother’s name?” Chandler mentioned, looking a little puzzled.
“Yes, it was.” She paused and then trudged on. “Broken Feather hadn�
��t named his child. He was heartbroken at his wife’s death, and I suggested the name,” she lied.
As Broken Feather reached her side, Vanessa smiled. “Broken Feather, this is Chandler Cunningham an old friend of the family. We thought he had been killed in the war, but here he is and is going to be the person overseeing and reporting back to my father,” she beamed. “Chandler, this is Broken Feather. You can totally trust him, the same as my father has trusted him to bring me here safely. He was also the man who took me to my husband in Texas, and even worked at the ranch for a spell. He saved me from a flash flood and everyone on Jason’s ranch from the Comanche. We are deeply indebted to him. He knows nothing about growing sugarcane, though, so someone will have to teach him.”
Chandler nodded at Broken Feather, and Broken Feather raked his eyes over Chandler, already feeling uneasy, knowing this had been a close friend to Vanessa and her family. He was feeling more out of place than he had from the moment he pulled up to the plantation.
“Come inside,” Vanessa smiled. “I want to see how the place weathered, and give Broken Feather a tour of the house.”
“I had one of your old slaves come in and clean the place a little,” Chandler told her. “I have been trying to round up as many of your old slaves as I could find that didn’t have work, to offer them sharecropping positions on the plantation. They have slowly been straggling in, but there is a far cry to go before we have enough workers to put this place back in business again.”
“I am so glad you are the one my father chose to oversee us. I would have hated some stranger to take over,” Vanessa told him, as she took his arm that wasn’t holding the cane, while holding Glenda in her other arm, and walked through the entrance door that was still open from when he first came out onto the porch.
“I understand Broken Feather will help run the place, making sure the workers keep their end of the bargain in the sharecropping agreement. He really doesn’t need to know that much about the sugarcane business seeing as how the workers already know the trade. He just has to make sure no one slacks off and that they pay their fair share in crops, and work together when it comes time to either make the sugar or ship the cane out. I think at first, it would be easier just to ship the crop until you make sure the farm is running smoothly enough to start processing the plants.”
“I agree,” Vanessa smiled. “Your family used to own a sugarcane plantation, so you can help teach Broken Feather all he needs to know,” she told him.
Chandler glanced at Broken Feather, dressed in his fringed buckskin and chuckled.
“It might be best if he dresses in more acceptable clothes so people don’t think the Wild West has transported itself onto your plantation,” Chandler suggested.
“That may be difficult to do. Broken Feather is very proud of his heritage; just like us southern people are proud of our own heritage. The army couldn’t get him to wear their uniform, so I doubt we will have much luck in changing Broken Feather’s choice of clothes,” Vanessa laughed.
Broken Feather frowned as the two talked as though he was not standing right next to them and was just a lowly servant. Then he realized he was to act the part of a servant, and managed to push down the anger that was starting to rise up inside of him.
He took an immediate dislike to Chandler, even though he barely knew him. The way Vanessa was clinging to the man’s arm disturbed him, but his chances of ever having Vanessa as his own were rapidly dwindling away. He knew he would never convince her to go with him to Mexico, and now this was what his future held.
Vanessa led the way through the immense plantation house, showing Broken Feather all the rooms. He was certain Chandler already knew his way around the place. The furniture was still shrouded in dust sheets, and it felt haunted to Broken Feather, and he didn’t’ believe they were friendly ghosts.
As they were making their way through the house, a young black girl came up to them and curtsied.
“This is Sadie, Chandler introduced the young girl. She and her mother are freshening the place up for you.”
“Sadie, aren’t you Marybeth’s daughter?” Vanessa asked, recognizing the girl. “She used to work in our kitchen.”
Sadie nodded and smiled. “Yes’am,” she smiled. “I was jus a little thin’ back then,” she murmured.
“It will be so good to have all of our old slaves and servants working here again,” Vanessa cheered.
“We’z all lookin’ forward ta comin’ home again,” Sadie smiled. “Mammy Sue will be a comin’ too.”
“Mammy Sue! That is wonderful, she can help take care of my… my new little ward. I think of the baby as my own daughter, since I have taken on the responsibility of her from the day she was born. She’s such a lovely little thing.” Vanessa hugged Glenda tighter.
“Mammy Sue will be happy to take on your little motherless child,” Chandler assured her. “I remember how caring she was with you when you were little. I often saw her cuddling you in her arms.”
“You are several years older than I am, so we never played together when I was young,” she pointed out. “You were always running around with the older boys.”
“And when you tried to follow, they would always shoo you away. I sort of took pity on you, only they would think I was a sissy boy, if I tried to play with you. Sorry about that.”
“It was so exciting when everyone gathered here for outside festivities at harvest time,” Vanessa remembered.
“You were still rather young, when I went away to war. Only eight or nine, I think.”
“I watched when you and the other young men marched away to join the fighting. I was sad to see you go, and then when you didn’t come back, and everyone assumed you were dead, I cried.”
“I am sorry you had to waste your tears on me,” Chandler smiled, looking down at her. “That seems so long ago, now. I was just a sixteen-year-old kid back then.”
“The war ravaged us all,” Vanessa mumbled, trying to stop herself from looking at his leg.”
He noticed it, and gave a shrug. “I almost lost my leg. They were going to cut it off, but I managed to crawl away and hide. Eventually, it healed without getting gangrene, so I was lucky, only I have a permanent limp now.”
“Better that, than no leg at all,” she murmured.
“I agree,” he smiled.
“Is there something you need me to do?” Broken Feather asked impatiently. He didn’t like listening to Vanessa and Chandler talking about their past together.
“Well, if you wish to bring my trunks up to my room, you could do that. “Sadie, show Broken Feather where the master bedroom is, so he will know where to put my things.”
Sadie curtsied and turned to scamper up the stairs, while Broken Feather followed.
“I am so glad you were the one chosen to come oversee the place. It will give us a chance to get to know each other again,” Vanessa said, as she glanced up at Chandler. He had grown so tall, she barely recognized him. She liked the fact that he was tall.
“When I heard you were returning, I was anxious to be of some help. I didn’t know you had an infant to care for, though.”
“I am surprised my father didn’t mention it,” she murmured.
“Actually, he didn’t say much except that his daughter was returning to the plantation since her husband had died and she had no other place to go. I only got that much from his lawyer, who takes care of his estate business.”
“When Mammy Sue shows up, it will be a lot easier,” Vanessa mumbled. “I have grown to love Broken Feather’s daughter.”
“Only if Broken Feather finds a new wife, she can take over caring for his child,” Chandler suggested.
Vanessa looked up, shocked. She hadn’t thought about that. “I suppose we will have to cross that bridge when we come to it,” she shrugged. “I think it would be difficult for me to give her up,” she admitted.
“You seem like a loving person. Broken Feather is lucky to have you take his child under your wing.”
&
nbsp; “It was part of the agreement for him to come here,” she told him. “He claims he doesn’t wish to remarry, but one can never tell.”
“In the meantime, I will be looking forward to helping out and rekindling our friendship, even though it wasn’t much, growing up.”
“I always watched you from afar, so I felt like you were a close friend,” Vanessa admitted. “I was sad when you went off to war, because I thought I would never see you again. You left a couple years after my father did. He had sold Zack before he went off to war, and I felt like I didn’t have any friends left to me any longer.”
“Yes, I remember Zack, the little black boy that worked shining shoes in the big house. He was always so proud of himself, because he didn’t have to work in the fields and could be at the house where the two of you could play together.”
“Only my father didn’t like me playing with the slaves. I think that is why he sold Zack.”
“But he trusts Broken Feather with you,” Chandler stated.
“Broken Feather is more Seminole Indian than black. The army hired the Black Seminoles as scouts, and they are all very loyal to the army.”
“All your old slaves, who then became your servants, seem to be loyal too. The ones I was able to contact, were all happy to learn that you were returning home. They were sad when your father's aunt died, and they all had to leave. I returned home a couple of years before you left for Texas, but I was recovering then, and was just getting my memory back, or I would have come to visit you.”
“Well, you are here now, and it makes me very happy,” Vanessa smiled up at him.
She noted he had a rather handsome face, looking a lot older than she remembered him, though. He had gentle, hazel eyes that she found had a way of drawing her in, beneath thick, dark, eyebrows, and black hair, which fell over his forehead when he looked down at her, returning her smile.
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