The Prodigy Slave, Book Two: The Old World: (Revised Edition 2020)

by Londyn Skye

  Before I end this letter, I just want you to know that it’s eating a hole in my soul not to touch you and hold you in my arms late at night. I can’t even find the peace to sleep anymore without you near me. I’d give anything to have you that close to me again while we talk about our problems together, the way we used to on the road. But I know that you much prefer the space and time to deal with everything that’s happened alone. So, for the time being, I will find the strength to keep my distance. However, I’ve moved into the guest bedroom on the bottom floor. My window is always open at night if you ever feel the need to come to me. And I’m praying every day that you will. Whenever you are ready, I will always be here for you. In the meantime, please know that I’m doing everything in my power to make things right for all three of us.

  Please take care of our little one.

  I love you both more than anything.

  James

  As soon as he completed that letter, James packed up the few belongings in his room that meant anything to him and took them to the guest bedroom. He wanted Lily to have easier access to him, but he moved there mainly because he could not bring himself to sleep in his room after what happened there with Mary Jo. He was sure to leave the blankets and sheets that Mary Jo had touched right where they were. If it was up to him, he would have torched them all, including the mattress, in a massive bonfire on Mary Jo’s front yard.

  After moving his belongings, James opened the guest bedroom window, climbed out of it, and traipsed toward the slave quarters with his letter in hand. He stopped in his tracks when the bitter cold shook him to the core. He suddenly became even angrier about what Lily and his baby were being subjected to at night. He turned around, climbed back through the window, and took yet another blanket from the guest bedroom. With Lily’s letter and her new blanket in hand, he scurried across the field to get out of the bitter cold. He walked into the quarters and suddenly got that same sick feeling in the pit of his stomach as he had when he was twelve. Again, the guilt of white privilege hit him hard after he was reminded of how the cold on the inside of the slave’s “home” was not much different than the outside. He could barely stand to look at the mass of bodies sprawled out on hay, covered with tiny thin blankets that left them subjected to the freezing temperatures. He was so bothered by it again that he had to turn away as he went on to Lily’s room. He quietly walked in and was happy to find her sleeping soundly; it gave him the chance to gaze at her angelic face for a while before laying another blanket on top of her. He then laid her letter beside her, but this time without an envelope. He hoped that perhaps there would be words her eyes would be unable to avoid that would prompt her to want to finish reading it. With as many times as he had mentioned it, he hoped that the word to draw her attention would be “love.”

  James knelt after placing Lily’s letter nearby. He could not resist the chance to kiss her gently on the cheek. “I love you,” he whispered in her ear, hoping to infuse that sentiment into her dreams, just in case she did not read it in his letter. Lily stirred to consciousness and felt the moisture from James’s kiss still lingering on her cheek and the heaviness of yet another quilt. She opened her eyes in time to see James walking away and then turned to find a piece of paper laying nearby. She ignored it, readjusted on her pillow, and went back to sleep without another thought. James, however, had made his way back through his window and was lying in his bed with the whipping wind cutting his uncovered skin, still unable to sleep. He laid there awake in the freezing cold, never once getting up to find another blanket. After the sinful crime he had just committed against Lily with Mary Jo, he felt as though he deserved the brutality of the frosty night air.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Slave Code

  Article II Section I

  Sundays and holidays are to be strictly observed. No slave shall be permitted to work more than 15 hours per day in summer, and 14 hours in winter, or on any holiday or Sunday, except as a punishment or unless they are paid. All Negroes otherwise found at work on these days shall be confiscated.

  “I haven’t stopped thinkin’ about our erotic rendezvous,” Mary Jo expressed to James with a sensual tone in her voice.

  You and me both … unfortunately, James complained inwardly while staring out the front glass window of Gideon’s office, refusing to look anywhere in Mary Jo’s vicinity. He had cursed aloud the second he saw her being helped out of her carriage, overly dressed as usual. He figured she would saunter into Gideon’s office and add even more insult to his mental injuries, which she now stood there proving.

  “Now I know why your whore was singin’ your praises in those letta’s,” Mary Jo stated, nearly moaning the words.

  “What do you want, MJ?” James asked, sounding thoroughly irritated. His arms were folded across his chest, and his eyes were still directed out the window.

  “We have a lunch date, don’t you rememba’?”

  “No! I don’t rememba’,” he said coldly, finally turning to look at Mary Jo. “Are you really intendin’ to go through with this bullshit act?”

  “Trust me, it won’t be an act for long. There’s not a man in town immune to lovin’ me … you included.”

  “How the hell can you eva’ be okay with any ‘a this?”

  “I’m an assertive woman. My fatha’ taught me that if there’s anything I want in my life, I need to do whateva’ it takes to acquire it.”

  “It? You say that like I’m a horse or a fuckin’ house. Maybe you’re too self-centered to notice, but I’m a human! I should have a say in whetha’ or not I want a relationship with you.”

  “This is the relationship you want! You just don’t know it yet. It doesn’t get any betta’ than me. You’ll realize that soon.”

  “I disrespectfully disagree.”

  “You betta’ watch how you’re talkin’ to me,” Mary Jo snarled. “Don’t tell me you have some grandiose dream that you could eva’ have a life with your caramel-colored whore. If you believe that then perhaps you’re too much of a moron to be with me.”

  “The day I give up that belief will be the day I die.”

  Mary Jo lowered her eyelids and pursed her lips tight. The sincerity with which he had spoken the words made her hatred for Lily grow exponentially. “Oh look, it’s Dr. Whitfield,” she said after hearing him walk through the door. Her personality instantly changed, and the fake smile returned to her face, all while keeping her squinted eyes firmly on James.

  “Hello, Mary Jo!” Gideon greeted as he sat his bag on the desk.

  “Wish we could stay and chat, but James just asked me out to lunch,” she explained, staring at James with nastiness still in her eyes.

  “Oh, how nice,” Gideon smiled, genuinely happy to hear the news that he was attempting to court her.

  “Gideon, if you need me, I can stay,” James said, attempting to get out of his “date,” all the while reciprocating Mary Jo’s nasty glare.

  “I’ve run this place by myself for decades. I’m quite sure I can handle it alone for an hour,” Gideon laughed. “You two go enjoy yourselves.”

  James and Mary Jo continued their nasty stare-down for a moment before James finally conceded and left with his nemesis.

  Being the daughter of Virginia’s wealthiest cotton and tobacco tycoon, most of the people in town worshipped Mary Jo like she was the princess of Fayetteville. Maintaining that perceived position on the town’s hierarchy dominated Mary Jo’s life. Her number one daily priority was figuring out crafty ways to present herself to the townspeople in a way that would continue to make them bow down to her. With James now having the title of doctor preceding his name, Mary Jo felt having him by her side would help boost her higher on the social envy pedestal. She was not opposed to being a fraud, using blackmail or her body, or even losing her self-respect to maintain her position on Fayetteville’s throne, which she began proving the moment she stepped into the town square with James. Heads quickly swiveled in her direction as she walked arm in arm across the
road with the town’s most desired bachelor. She chatted with him and displayed her fake smile while they made their way to the most elegant restaurant that Fayetteville had to offer to the likes of folks like herself. Per Mary Jo’s request, they were seated dead center of the busy establishment. With a roomful of upper-class eyes on them, Mary Jo then began putting on a show of forced conversation and affection to further stake her claim over James in front of the sort of people who mattered to her. The discreet whispers and smiles in her direction were immediate. The attention gave Mary Jo an instantaneous adrenaline rush. The same could not be said for James, though. He felt like a slave who had been bought and controlled and was now on display, being sold to the minds of the townsfolk as Mary Jo’s new beau. As humiliating as it was for James to sit there tethered to Mary Jo’s ball and chain, he played along with her rouse, feigning happiness, and enduring her torture with a forced smile … for Lily’s sake.

  After the embarrassment of spending an hour with Mary Jo, James would have guided his horse straight out of town and never looked back had it not been for Lily. Instead, he led his stallion through the barn of his childhood home, watered, and fed him and stepped out into the chilly night air. He slid his hands into his pockets as he stared over at the slave quarters. He was fighting the never-ending urge to go lie next to Lily. She needs time, he reminded himself, and then reluctantly forced his feet to move toward his father’s house. It was silent when he entered. He was glad his father had gone to bed early. The only person he wanted to speak to was resting on a haystack three hundred yards away. With no appetite to guide him toward the kitchen, he bypassed it and headed directly for the guest bedroom. He opened the door and was hit with the scent of a very familiar aroma.

  “That’s just my way of sayin’ thank you,” a faint voice said from behind James after he had walked over and found the source of the wonderful smell: a bowl of his favorite Jambalaya and cornbread.

  After being startled, James quickly turned around to find Lily standing there in the doorway. The fact that she knew where to bring the food confirmed to him that she had indeed read his letter this time. “Thank you for what?” he asked her.

  “For givin’ me anotha’ blanket, and for bein’ kind enough to give everyone else one too.”

  James had placed a sign in front of Gideon’s office, asking people to donate gently used jackets and blankets. Once he had collected enough, he loaded them up in his wagon and took them straight to the slave quarters on his father’s plantation to fulfill a goal that he felt was thirteen years overdue. Not long after he arrived, words of gratitude and appreciation had roused Lily from her makeshift bed. She had peeked her head around the corner in time to see James handing out jackets and thick comforters to every last one of his father’s slaves. The sight of it softened Lily a bit, and so too had his letter. But, at the time, she still did not have the strength to speak to him or anyone else. She was not ready to come to terms with the collapse of her career and the loss of her dear friends. Instead, she shed a silent tear over James’s generosity and laid back down, feeling grateful for what he had done and about the fact that he was willing to give her the time and space to sort out her emotions.

  It instantly made James’s day to simply hear Lily’s voice as she stood before him now expressing her gratitude. He was so excited that she had the desire to speak to him that he nearly forgot to respond. “I was happy to do it,” he finally said. “You don’t eva’ have to thank me for somethin’ like that.”

  “Yes, I do. It’s only right to let you know that I’m grateful … And I truly am.”

  They stood there in awkward silence staring at each other for a moment. With Lily standing so close, James was fighting his urges even harder now. He wanted to walk over and touch her, hold her, and kiss her gently, but he stayed put. “And thank you,” he said as he slid his hands in his pockets to keep them from reflexively reaching out for her. “For the wonderful dinna’.”

  “Enjoy,” Lily replied with a nod. “Good night.”

  Please don’t go! “Good night,” James forced himself to say instead, still not wanting to push her to do more than she was comfortable with. He wanted her to come to him when she was ready and therefore let her walk away without any objections … none that she could hear anyway. The silent voice within him was begging for her to stay. James stepped over to the window and continued to watch Lily walk across the fields until she disappeared into the slave quarters. When she was out of sight, he looked back down at his meal and realized that he actually felt the urge to eat for the first time in days. Feeling ecstatic that Lily’s emotional healing had likely begun, James sat down and finished every bite of the wonderful meal she had prepared for him.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Ghost Rider Oath of Allegiance Excerpts

  I do solemnly swear never to violate the great Ghost Rider fundamental principles nor violate the supreme laws of the Ghost Rider constitution…

  I do solemnly swear to fight and defend until death the preservation of American institutions, the constitution, and to maintain white supremacy forever…

  Jesse’s long-time friend, Duke Dixon, was in Ohio to help his cousin, Tex, capture slaves who were sneaking across state lines. He wanted to capitalize on the financial opportunity along with his fellow Ghost Riders. More than anything, though, he wanted to experience the thrill of personally sending Negroes back into captivity where he felt they belonged. After a successful night of round-ups, he sat relaxing with his cousin in the very same dilapidated log cabin that Jesse had visited while he was in Ohio in search of James. While they sat drinking beers, Tex slid Duke the school newspaper that Jesse had left behind. “How’d y’ur friend, Jesse, make out with findin’ this piano playin’ nigga’?” Tex asked.

  Duke took a moment to read over the details of the article. “This was Jesse’s slave?” he asked, sounding stunned.

  “Sure was.” Tex sipped his beer and let out a silent belch. “He said his son was traipsin’ around the country havin’ ’er perform in shows.”

  “You can’t be fuckin’ serious?”

  “You mean he ain’t mentioned it to you?”

  “Obviously not dipshit.”

  “He said you told ’em he could come to me for help if he needed it while he was here,” Tex explained.

  “Yeah, he said he was headed up here, but he neva’ told me why. I definitely would’ve neva’ guessed it was ova’ somethin’ as serious as this shit,” Duke replied, referring to the article as he tossed it back on the coffee table in disgust.

  “You gotta be shittin’ me. Have you seen ’em since he got back to Fayetteville?”

  “Saw ’em just a few days ’fore I come up here. He ain’t make a single solitary peep about any ‘a this shit.”

  “Afta’ all the stories you’ve told me about the sort ‘a punishments Jesse’s handed out ova’ the years, I thought for sure he’d’ve barbequed that piano playin’ nigga’ at one of y’ur rallies by now.”

  “If he did, he must’ve done it behind my back. But it ain’t like him not to make a show outta somethin’ like that.”

  “That’s what I figured too. Hell, I’s wantin’ to hear every graphic detail. Thought you’d have anotha’ epic story to tell, ’specially afta’ how angry he was when he came in here rantin’ and ravin’.”

  “What the hell’d he have to say?”

  “He was bitchin’ and moanin’ about the fact that we didn’t put a stop to that nigga’s show while she was performin’ at that William fell’urs house,” Tex explained, pointing at the article. “He blamed us for the fact that she was on tour. He said we should’ve sent the both of ’em an unpleasant little message as soon as we caught wind ‘a what was goin’ on there.”

  “He’s right.”

  “I know. I realized how bad we fucked up afta’ he left. We were so caught up in makin’ money off ‘a runaways that we let a major problem slip through our finga’s. Won’t be a mistake we eva’ let happen again
, I can assure you of that. Had to do all I could to set things right, though. I rounded up every Ghost Rida’ in our arsenal and we rode out to that William fell’urs estate. We took out his guards and the two nigga’s that were there. Then I personally burned that old fucker’s house to the ground.”

  “Did you take out that nigga’ lovin’ music teacha’ too?” Duke asked, pointing to the school article again.

  “Nah, he wasn’t home. Ain’t seen ’em ’round these parts since then eitha’.”

  “Sounds like he got the message then.”

  “That ain’t good enough for me. I lost my brotha’ that night. I want that old fucker’s head to roll!”

  “Rusty’s dead?” Duke asked, shock obvious in his tone.

  Tex nodded. “Shot right in front ‘a my goddamn eyes. Chopped the fuckin’ head off the piece ‘a shit who shot ’em though. Left his fuckin’ head hangin’ from one ‘a the crosses in William’s yard.” He tossed his beer bottle across the room. “I’ma personally hang that old fucker’s head on a cross next time I see ’em! Still eats me alive on the inside to know I lost my brotha’ fightin’ on behalf ‘a that fat bastard you call a friend!”