Holding the stunned and trembling girl with one beefy hand, Miles lowered his suspenders and fumbled to unbutton his trousers. He exposed himself.
“Think of your little sister,” she pleaded.
“I don’t have a sister.”
“Please…please don’t,” she begged. “Please don’t ruin me. I’m a virgin.”
He sneered. “If you had as many stickin’ out, you’d look like a porcupine.” He ripped her blouse, exposing a tender white breast. He nuzzled at it with slobbering lips while she squirmed and screamed for Cassie. She fought valiantly, clawing bloody streaks down the man’s face and neck.
Ordinarily, Cassie enjoyed watching the chickens tussle, argue and cluck over tidbits left over from the kitchen. Not so today. She hastily dumped the food into a pile and walked briskly back to the house. An uneasy feeling gnawed at her insides. She broke into a trot when she heard the screams and old Duke’s barks. She scurried inside, grabbing a wet mop as she passed. She pounded on the locked door, yelling, “Open this door! Damn you, Yankee son-of-a-bitch! Open this door!”
For only a few frustrated seconds, Cassie beat on the door and hollered at the man inside. She ran out the front door with the mop. She grabbed a wrought iron chair and smashed a window to let the snarling dog inside. “Sic ‘em, Duke! Get that man that’s hurtin’ Miss Dayme.” Then she crawled inside.
“Old woman, you’ll have to wait your turn,” the soldier hissed as the wet mop crashed onto his head and the dog latched onto a britches leg. “Stop it, you black wench, or I’ll kill you both!”
EARLIER AT THE LAST RIVER CROSSING ON THE WAY TO LARKSPUR
Seeing the army detail on the other side, Benjamin drew the team to a halt. The cavalrymen splashed across. The Union officer scrutinized Benjamin’s face. “Have we met before?”
“Highly possible, major,” Benjamin replied dryly as he handed the officer his papers. “I served under Gen. Braxton Bragg in Gen. Lee’s Confederate Army.” He met the major’s gaze with unwavering eyes. “Perhaps we met at Bowling Green or Chattanooga, Stone Mountain or maybe Atlanta.”
The major chuckled as though he admired the rebel’s spunk. “Do I detect a northern accent in your speech?”
“I note you speak with a southern brogue, sir.” Benjamin’s tone carried an accusation. “This is my hometown.” He said nothing about having been educated up north.
“My home is South Carolina, but I know how to pick a winner. Maj. Keith White, sir. Investigating the untimely death of a Negro law officer. Dead about a month, give or take a day or two. How long have you been back, Reb?”
“Three weeks and three days. There are witnesses.”
“Member of the White Rose?” The officer studied Benjamin with tongue in cheek.
Benjamin stiffened. “If I were, I wouldn’t tell you, Sir.”
“No,” the major replied. “Don’t suppose you would.” His gray eyes revealed respect for the defeated captain’s honest answer. “Where you headed?”
“Larkspur…my plantation.”
Turning around in the saddle, Major White gestured behind him. “I have men scattered all up the road interrogating plantation people. I believe Sgt. Miles was assigned to Larkspur. Good day, Captain.”
After the soldiers left, Benjamin climbed down from the buckboard. “I’m taking your mare,” he told Logan. “I have an uneasy feeling in….” The rest of the sentence was lost in the wind as he splattered across the creek and disappeared over the hill with the sorrel mare in a dead run.
Hearing the commotion inside and the spotted hound’s snarling growls, Benjamin slid off the lathered mare and raced to the broken window. Cassie yelled at him as she continued to pound the would-be rapist with the wet mop. “Kill ’em, Mista Ben! Kill this greasy-headed son-of-a-bitch before he….”
Grabbing the soldier by the shirt, Benjamin jerked him off the davenport and onto the floor. Old Duke bit the man’s arm and snapped at his face as he struggled to his feet. Benjamin hit a crashing blow, causing blood to spurt as the sergeant fell to the floor on his back. Rolling over, Miles tackled Benjamin around the ankles, and together they rolled over and over, knocking over chairs in the struggle. The soldier swung blindly when the two scrambled to their feet, but his trousers fell down around his ankles. He reached for the trousers, and Benjamin struck again, his ring cutting a deep gash above the man’s eye. The Yankee blew blood out of his face like a charging bull and lunged again.
Dayme covered herself as best she could with the torn dress and cowered in a comer. Cassie was beside her, yelling and cheering Benjamin on. “Beat his ole head plumb off his dirty old neck!”
The crazed soldier’s face resembled raw meat but he refused to stop fighting. He flailed his arms like a blind man until Benjamin’s final blow doubled his mid-section and he crumpled helpless to the floor. Benjamin was so enraged that he jumped astride Sgt. Miles and thrust both thumbs into his Adam’s apple and squeezed. The man’s face turned blue-purple.
“No!” Dayme screamed, tugging at Benjamin’s arm. The dress she was holding slipped down almost to her waist. “Stop! Please stop! They will hang you for this. You’re killing a Union soldier!”
Her pleading words finally penetrated Benjamin’s brain, and his sense of reason returned. He loosened the grip. “Get up, you low-down, Yankee son-of-a-bitch!” He harked and spit in the soldier’s face. Furious, he dragged the man by the neck of his long-handled drawers and literally kicked him down the portico steps. The beaten man rose up on one elbow but old Duke growled and snarled, daring him to move a muscle.
The three soldiers who rode past the plantation earlier galloped their mounts toward the commotion. Two enlisted men quickly dismounted and restrained Benjamin. The officer rested the gun he leveled on the saddle horn. “Call your dog off that man, or I’ll shoot him,” he demanded. “What have you done to Sgt. Miles?”
“You can see for yourself,” Benjamin replied, panting for breath. “This animal is in a state of undress. He tried to force himself.…”
“Did he?”
“No, but he exposed himself. He beat her. Ripped her clothes. It wasn’t because he didn’t try.”
Cassie enveloped the trembling girl in her comforting arms. The bruise on Dayme’s cheek had caused a swelling under the left eye and it was almost shut. The spotted hound sensed her pain. He whined and licked her hand.
“Lt. John Stewart here,” the officer introduced himself. “I apologize for this man’s unbecoming, libertine behavior, Miss.” Dayme recognized the young officer from the tavern. If he recognized her, it didn’t show. “This sort of conduct is not condoned by the United States Army. On your feet, soldier! You’re under military arrest!”
Sgt. Miles fastened his trousers and mounted the mule. He was embarrassed in the presence of his peers. “She led me on,” he mumbled, causing Benjamin to break loose from his captors. He lunged at the man with a flying tackle, grabbing him by the leg and pulling him down from the horse.
Again, Lt. Stewart leveled the weapon. “Hold it, Reb! I’ll put a bullet through your heart if you so much as twitch. The Union army takes care of it’s own.”
The officer asked him several questions unrelated to the incident…his name, how long he’d been back and how many freed slaves were on the plantation. “Do these people know they’ve been emancipated?”
“They know the bill is before Congress. Then it has to be ratified.”
Lt. Stewart grinned. “Don’t you think it’ll pass, Reb?”
“We knows we been freed,” Cassie butted in. “We knows the law.”
“Thank you, Madam.” The officer tipped his hat. “I’m addressing Capt. Farrington.”
“They know they’re free to go or stay.”
“That isn’t enough. You’ll have to go to the courthouse and fill out contracts on these people. Each must accompany you and sign their X before a witness and it’ll have to be notarized in order for work papers to be legal. All Negroes must have papers in o
rder to work for you people and to be able to vote. It’s illegal for planters to work Negroes who have not been contracted. Your slaver days are over, Reb. Any man you work will be paid wages.”
“I’m aware of that legality,” Benjamin replied tersely.
“You have seven days,” the officer warned. “Those who don’t comply will be hauled before the provost and jailed.”
Before leaving, the young officer turned again to the disheveled girl. “Sorry about this unfortunate incident, Miss. This soldier’s disgraceful behavior is certainly not typical of United States troops. He faces court martial. Yes, my dear…even Yankee gentlemen respect womanhood. He will be dealt with severely. He won’t bother you again.” The lieutenant saluted Benjamin. “Good day, Sir. Mount up men.”
“Here’s your coat ‘n hat!” Cassie's eyes blazed as she tossed the clothes on the ground. Tears were streaming down her kind old face as she led the girl back inside. “He’s gone, child, that rapin’ bastard is gone. The ugly devil will pay for the hurt he done. The Good Bein’ll see t’ that. Honey child, this is the fruits o’ workin’ in that awful old place an’ temptin’ men folk. Ain’t nothin’ goes over the old devil’s back that don’t come back under his belly.”
Chapter 6
Billowy white clouds mushroomed atop an ominous blue-black wall in the western sky. They churned angrily, blotting out the sinking sun as the storm moved closer to Larkspur. The atmosphere was still, too still. Not a twig moved.
“Meet yo' new overseer,” Logan bragged as he climbed down from the buckboard. “I am the boss around here from now on. Ya’ll get to unloadin’ this stuff and I mean NOW! That storm ain’t gonna wait on no shufflin’ feet. Ring the bell, Lazarus. Bring ’em runnin. Mista Ben said all of’em.”
Josephus backed down the ladder with a bucket of hot tar he’d used to daub nail holes in the red barn’s tin roof. “Aw go on. Ain’t no whitie gonna let no black man boss.”
“Yes, I am. Mista Ben said so hisself. That sorrel mare tied up yonder, she’s mine, too.”
Josephus snickered in disbelief. “You ’spect us to believe that? I saw Mr. Farrington ride it home. He slid off that lathered horse and raced up the portico like he had just wiped on poison Ivy.” All the men laughed. Not one of them believed Logan. He was prone to exaggeration. “Just ’cause you got to go to town with Mr. Farrington ain’t no call to getting’ uppity. Come on, ever’body. Grab somethin’ ’fore we all get lightenin’ struck.” He cupped his hands and yelled, “Get a move on!”
The overseer didn’t do any of the work himself. He leaned against the spokes of the wagon wheel, giving orders. “It is mine an’ I am the overseer. We’re free men. Mista Ben said all us folks am gonna be paid money wages. I’m the boss. Better start giving old Logan some respect.”
Luke laid down his hammer and stared at his father. “You really mean that don’t you, Pap.”
“That’s right. Kinfolks don’t cut no ice with me. You ‘n Ike’ll do as I say, or I’ll fire your black asses an’ kick you off’n Lawkspur same as anybody else. Mista Ben said we need jobs to make ends meet, and he said what I say goes.”
Lazarus snickered mischievously as he loaded a sack of flour in the wheelbarrow. “Speakin’ o’ makin’ ends meet…yonder comes Rachel.”
“Man,” Ike declared. “Look at all that flour! Ain’t had no flour since afore the war. I can just taste them mo-larapin’ hot biscuits ‘n honey. Goodbye cornbread.”
“That flour’s for the big house.” Logan informed him. “Gotta eat cornbread, I reckon, but we ain’t slaves no more. Got the right to work or leave.”
“You mean…” Josephus said evenly, straining under the weight of a hundred pound sack of grain. “You mean we got the right to work or starve. Wonder how all of ‘em that run off is farin’ these days? Heared tell that jobs fo’ coloreds in Mississippi is mighty scarce.”
“Wish Elly and Tom hadn’t o’ run off.” Logan lit a cigar. “They coulda enjoyed they freedom right here on Lawkspur where they’s borned at with the rest of they kin.”
“It warn’t Elly, Pap. She’d a-stayed if it warn’t fo’ lovin’ her man like she do. I b’lieve she’d a follered Tom off that high bluff into the Mississippi River. Pap, would Mista Ben let ’em come back if they asted him?’ Ike asked.
“Maybe…can’t never tell. Maybe one o’ these days they’ll come draggin’ back. Me an’ yo’ Mama pray ever’ night to the Good Bein’ they’ll come on back an’ bring them grandbabies home.”
Josephus was a tall muscular man in his early thirties. When he spoke, he usually had something to say. The veins stood out on his brawny neck as he pulled another sack of feed off the wagon. “Might’s well face it, Logan. She ain’t comin’ back. Tom’s too prideful a man. Don’t blame ’em a damn bit for tryin’ to better theyselves. Hope they find what they’re lookin’ for. The big man in Washington, he says we’s free. The Yankee soldiers an’ the carpetbaggers, they say we’s free. Now, Benjamin says the same thing, but he’s still givin’ the orders.” Coming out of the bam, the big black man gazed over the trees toward the storm in the west. “Tom ’an Elly, they’s free, and they aim to stay that way.”
“It ain’t like it was. Coloreds been ‘mancipated,” Logan insisted stubbornly. “Gov’ment done guaranteed it. Coloreds am protected now. Mista Ben, he….”
Josephus gritted his teeth in disgust. “Oh yeah? What’s Mista Ben gonna do about white men in tall hats ’n hoods lynchin’ and murderin’ and maimin’ and burnin’ houses o’ pore black men tryin’ to hold they heads up? I don’t give a wave at your ass what Mr. Farrington or the gov’ment says. Mark my word. Long’s we’s in Mississippi, colored’s is gonna be slaves.”
“Hell! We ain’t neither! Gonna be paid wages.” Logan was getting a little irritated.
“So?” Josephus argued. “Might be wage-drawin’ slaves but slaves just the same. Still ‘spected t’obey white men, say’yes, Suh’ and look up to ‘em. White men got their foot on coloreds, and they intend to keep it that way.”
“If you feel that way, Joe, why didn't you leave with the others?” Luke asked.
“Because I ain’t no fool, that’s why. A colored man without money ain’t got no chance out in the world.”
“You’se right, Josephus,” Ike added as he led a Holstein cow into the shelter. “Right as that rain a-comin’. Don’t guess there’s nothin’ we can do about it.”
Josephus lifted another sack of grain out of the wagon. “In time, I’m gonna do somethin’ about it.” His voice was filled with bitterness and emotion. “My old grandpappy spent a lifetime tryin’ to escape from mean old man Cobb. Had scars all over him where he’s beat. He’s chained up like a bitin’ dog, an’ tortured. Old man Cobb give Grandmaw to the breeders. He sold off all their younguns what warn’t growed up. My mama told me stories about how it was back then. They finally gelded Grandpaw for meaness. It was hot summer. Pore old thing died with the fever.”
“None o’ you younguns been beat bad,” Logan insisted. “Strapped a few times. I ain’t been slapped since I’s yore age. Miss Bess an’ Mista Ben looked on us like fam’ly. Always tends t’ our needs.”
“Don’t hear no whities callin’ us black folks ‘mister’,” Josephus said angrily. “Makes no difference how old a colored man is, all they call ‘em is boy.”
“The younguns,” Luke interrupted softly. “Our younguns ain’t gonna be slaves to nobody. Gonna see better days, they is.”
“Luke,” Logan corrected. “Don’t say ‘they is’. It ain’t good English. S’posed t’ say ‘they am’. Miss Dayme learned me that. I am the only black around here with any education. I can even spell my name--Ell--oh--gee--a--en. See?”
Agnes waddled awkwardly, holding her aching back with one hand. There was a milk bucket slung over the other. Resentment reflected in her face. “Seem like I just get set down and I haft t’ get up again since Mista Ben come back. Things gonna drift back in the same ole pattern.” She sat do
wn on the three-legged stool and buried her head in the cow’s side and started milking. Lucinda, Rachel and Mandy helped with the unloading and the other night chores that had to be done.
Logan kept leaning against the wagon wheel and bragging like a know-it-all because he’d been to town with the master of Larkspur. “Speakin’ o’ education, the gov’ment decreed all coloreds learn t’ read an’ write like me. Did you know that a college for coloreds is openin’ up in Jefferson next year. It am gonna be called the Lincoln Institute after President Lincoln. Colored chil’ren gonna get learnin’ same as whities.”
Josephus glared at him. “Well? Don't you think it’s about time? It’s hard to explain to ten-year old boys why they can’t read books like white chil’ren. My boys are smart. They learn fast. If they could only read”…. He gestured helplessly. “I can’t teach ‘em b’cause I don’t know how. So…they’s buildin’ some schools. So what? Blacks gonna be joinin’ the whities? Or is they gonna be stuck off by theyselfs so they won’t contaminate ’em?”
“Guess we can’t ‘spect white folks to let coloreds set with white chil’ren. Not yet. But it’s a start, Josephus. It’s a start. Jacob!” Logan shouted as he jumped quickly to his feet. “Head off that ole Pole ‘n China sow yonder!” The sow had squeezed through the half-open gate and headed across the field toward the Negro quarters with Jacob and two more boys in hot pursuit.
Trees whipped suddenly in a strong wind preceding the storm. The fresh scent of nearby rain filled the air. Lightening flashed and thunder rolled. The storm descended upon them. “Get movin’!” Logan ordered. “Hurry! b‘fore ever’thang gets wet.” He turned back to Josephus. “Don’t worry about it. Thangs gonna be fine. Mista Ben gonna take good care o’ us an’ pay us wages a ‘n feed us ‘til the cotton crop comes in next year. He’s callin’ a meetin’ in the mornin’ to explain it.”
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