Heir of Hope: Return to Ironwood Plantation (Ironwood Plantation Family Saga Book 2)

by Stephenia H. McGee

  Ruth dipped her chin but didn’t answer.

  I slowed the mare to a walk and looked over the fields. I didn’t know what to look for so I simply mimicked what I’d seen my father do. He’d only taken me around our small fields once, a few weeks before my wedding. When Charles took me around Ironwood to show me the layout of my new home, I was glad it wasn’t the first time I’d ever done such a thing.

  I squared my shoulders as we approached the head foreman on his large white horse. He lifted his hand in greeting. “Morning, Mrs. Harper.”

  I inclined my head, trying to remember to appear competent in the operations. “Good morning, Mr. Peck.” I glanced over the fields and repeated the question I’d heard Charles say. “Are the numbers looking good today?”

  He spit a stream of tobacco and adjusted his hat. “Yes, Ma’am. They’re all healthy and working steady this morning. Hadn’t had any issues so far.” His eyes fell on Ruth. She twisted in her seat and looked out over the fields.

  “And the cotton?” I asked, drawing his attention back to the matter at hand.

  His eyes darted back to me. “Growing good enough in this drought, but rain would be a blessing, sure enough.”

  As Charles had mentioned often. “Yes, it certainly would. Thank you, Mr. Peck.” I lifted the reins to continue my journey.

  “Uh, Ma’am?”

  I paused. “Yes?”

  “Are you going to be taking all of Mr. Harper’s ride today?”

  I drew a breath. Did he doubt my capabilities? “Why do you ask, Mr. Peck? Is there something going on during my husband’s absence I need to be aware of?” My voice snapped harsher than I intended, and he lowered his eyes.

  “No, Ma’am. We all respect Mr. Harper, and not a one of us would slack any in our duties during his absence.” He sat a little straighter in his saddle. “It just might not be safe for you two….uh,” he hesitated and glanced back at Ruth. Surely bringing my maid along did not break a protocol? I lifted my eyebrows and he hurried along. “Uh, ladies, to be out alone without an escort. I don’t know if Mr. Harper would want his young bride driving around the slave quarters alone.”

  I bristled, but the sincerity in his eyes curbed my tongue. “I appreciate your concern. The hands should all be in the fields working under the supervision of your managers. Surely they should not cause me any distress from there?”

  “Of course not, Ma’am.”

  I clicked the reins and continued around the side of the field. My pride would not allow me to turn back, although my confidence began to wane. The wind started to pick up, the cool air struggling to release my bonnet from my head. I held it tight with one hand and glanced up at the sky. Though the air felt as if it wanted to threaten rain, the sky looked gentle.

  I cast a sidelong glance at Ruth, who sat rigid next to me and managed to contain my sigh. Maybe the rounds weren’t such a good idea, but I could not turn back now. Perhaps I’d just do an early luncheon and enjoy the meadow Charles had shown me on our last ride. The turn lay just ahead past the slave quarters, which were coming into view over the slight rise in the road.

  Suddenly the buggy lurched, sending Ruth crashing into my side. We both nearly tumbled out of our seat. Startled, I snatched back on the reins and the mare jerked to a halt.

  Ruth quickly righted herself, the white parts of her eyes appearing larger than usual. “I’m sorry, Ma’am! I didn’t mean to hit you like that. I shoulda been holding on better. I promise, it won’t happen again.”

  Why did she look so terrified? I straightened my skirts, giving her a moment to breathe. Perhaps if I kept my voice gentle, the unwarranted fear would leave her eyes. “We hit a hole, Ruth. You are not responsible.” I eased myself down the step and looked at the wagon wheel. Nothing appeared to be broken, and the buggy still sat level. “Well, no harm done.”

  I circled around the front to stroke Snowflake’s soft muzzle, thankful for a seasoned and well-mannered horse. A younger filly might have bolted. Snowflake tilted her head into my fingers and I allowed myself a few minutes to stroke her while my heart slowed its reckless pounding.

  When I seated myself again I could feel Ruth’s eyes on me. I glanced at her. “What?”

  “Nothing, Ma’am.”

  I tapped the reins and let the horse settle into a comfortable walk. We neared the slave cabins, and the little ones stopped playing in the dirt to stare at us with open curiosity. Several of the smaller ones ran to hide behind the simple skirts of older girls left behind to tend them.

  “Why are they staring at us like that?” I whispered to Ruth, not taking my eyes off of the small central courtyard.

  “Maybe ’cause they ain’t never seen no black girl ridding in a buggy with the white lady before.”

  I ignored her. That could be it, but I didn’t remember them staring quite like this when I came through with Charles. I slowed the buggy, intending to speak a few words to the children, when I saw a young blond man emerge from the cabin closest to us.

  Shock flitted across his face for an instant, then he straightened himself and nodded to me. I should have nodded back and continued on my way, but there was something in his eyes that gave me pause. I’d seen him before, but did not know his name. Charles hired him a short while ago when he showed up at our house looking for work. He was one of the many men Mr. Peck charged with supervising the field hands. Which was where he should be now.

  I halted the mare. “Why would he be here in the middle of the day?” I uttered mostly to myself.

  “Ain’t no daddies around in the middle of the day,” Ruth whispered between clenched teeth.

  I cut my eyes to Ruth, feeling the hatred roll off her. My stomach turned. I squared my shoulders, and lifted my hand for him to approach.

  He sauntered to the buggy with an annoying confidence. I wanted to slap the smile from his face. “Why are you in the cabins during midmorning? Shouldn’t you be tending to a field?”

  His dark eyes studied me a moment then slid to Ruth. He licked his lips and tossed his finger back to the cabin. “Got a sick fella in there. Didn’t show up this morning, so I had to come down here to check on him.”

  I looked back at the cabin. Just then a young girl around ten or eleven years of age walked out onto the front steps, her arms wrapped around her chest.

  I looked back at the foreman, my face growing hot. How could I check his story? I couldn’t go in there myself to talk to the man. I looked back at the girl, and her haunted eyes locked on me.

  “You! Girl!” I shouted across to her. “Is your daddy or your brother in there with an ailment?”

  She glanced between the man and me, before her eyes fell on Ruth. She seemed to hesitate. Then she nodded, her shoulders slumping. I glanced over the small crowd of children. None of them looked at me now. They studied their hands, feet or the dirt underneath them.

  I frowned. “Mister, uh….”

  “Webb.”

  “Mister Webb,” I started again, my clenching jaw muscles making it difficult to speak politely, “I suggest you return to your post at the field and oversee your job.”

  He bobbed his chin emphatically, his shaggy hair bouncing around his shoulders. “Headed that way now, since my business here is done.”

  “Where is your horse?”

  He ran his fingers through his long, greasy hair. “Tied up to a tree in those woods so it would have plenty of shade.”

  “And no doubt so someone else wouldn’t know you were here at the cabins.” My voice dripped with venom but I made no effort to contain it.

  “Well, I’m done here,” he said. “Guess I’ll be moving on now. You be sure to have a pleasant day, Ma’am.” He dipped his chin and disappeared behind the cabins.

  I looked to the steps where I had last seen the girl, but she had disappeared and the front door was shut. Many of the others had vanished as well. Only a few pairs of eyes looked back at me, questions and accusations shining in eyes old enough to comprehend yet still too young to kno
w not to show it. I wanted to run, to forget what I’d seen and dismiss what I suspected. But I couldn’t. I couldn’t let it go. I will never forget the look in that girl’s eyes.

  I snapped the reins, startling the horse. We left at a quick trot, passing the next field without stopping. When we finally made it to the safety of the meadow, I yanked the mare to a stop and put my head in my hands. Emotions clamored within me, and I fought to contain the bile rising in my throat.

  I took a deep breath. Feeling a little more in control, I looked at Ruth. She studied my face a moment, as if she were trying to figure out what she saw there. Neither of us spoke. Finally, she climbed down and tied Snowflake to a tree. She stroked the mare’s neck and went about preparing the picnic lunch I had so looked forward to, but now couldn’t stand to eat.

  “There was nothing I could do,” I said softly, my eyes on the ground.

  No response. I played with a fold in my skirt, waiting.

  When I finally looked up, Ruth stood with her back to me, one hand on the rough bark of a pine tree and facing the open meadow. I got down from the buggy and came to stand beside her. Then I noticed the tear stains down her cheeks.

  “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know. I swear I didn’t.” My voice cracked.

  Ruth turned to me, her eyes full of fire. “White people know and don’t care, or they just don’t care to know at all. Y’all live in big safe houses where no one comes to take from you the only thing you have left that is yours to own.”

  Her anger washed over me like a tidal wave. Emotions I’d fought to contain for so many years burst through the walls I’d built to hold them. The anger swelled within me, and I forgot who I was supposed to be. I forgot everything in that moment but the bitterness that constantly devours me.

  “Big houses don’t save you,” I said through clenched teeth. “They don’t keep you safe from guests who come to your room in the middle of the night.” My hands began to shake, but now that I had opened the doors to the pain trapped inside of me, it would not be contained. The words rushed out of my lips, eager to be free of the prison they’d long been trapped behind.

  Even now, it is hard for me to write. But I must let out the poison that eats at me. I must leave it here, on this page, and pray it will stay there.

  Ruth stared at me with giant eyes as I continued on my tirade. “Their doors are not strong enough to keep them out! And when that big, fancy house is just another place for a party, who is there to protect you or hear your screams when all the adults are dancing and drinking in the ballroom? And when it is all over who can you tell when the man is an old family friend? There is no one to tell and no one to keep you safe when he comes the next time and the next. All you have left is who you are supposed to be!

  “No. No one can know when your worth and hope for marriage is based off your purity. Because who would ever want a wife who is tainted? Who could ever love one who is soiled, torn and broken?”

  Ruth’s wide eyes glistened with unshed tears. Suddenly, she reached for me, pulling me into a fierce embrace. I allowed her to hold me. My pain overshadowed all I’d been taught. Our differences no longer mattered. All that mattered now was the pain that bound us.

  I buried my face in the crook of her neck and let the sobs rack my body until there were none left to release. I lifted my head and tried to clean my face with the sleeve of my dress, no longer caring about what was proper. Proper kept me captive for far too long.

  Ruth held my hands and looked into my eyes. I saw a softness and compassion there I never expected. “Maybe you and me got more in common than we thought.”

  “Did that… what we saw at the cabin, did something like that happen to you?”

  Ruth took a deep breath. Her voice radiated with pain, but she spoke with more peace and strength than I expected. “Most days, when my daddy was in the fields, the white man would come ’n take from me and my sister what he said was his by right. I never told my daddy ’cause I know he’d try to kill him. I didn’t want to see my daddy hanged, so I never said nothing.”

  I chewed my lip, suddenly realizing the ramifications of treating people, especially women, as property. It shames me I’ve never considered such things before. Things that should have been obvious. Ruth was right. We didn’t care to know. Wrapped up in our own lives of leisure, we never think about the lives of those who serve us. “Was this man the plantation owner?”

  “No. His son. He weren’t no more than a youth, but acted like he owned the place and everyone on it.”

  I picked at my fingernails, not able to look her in the face. “Do you think….is this something that happens all the time?” I could barely bring myself to say it, afraid she would confirm all my fears.

  Ruth sighed. “After my daddy died, Momma told me why I looked so different from my siblings. She said that one of the white foremen used to come for her, and I was the result of that. I is part white.”

  I squeezed my eyes shut, not wanting to hear more, but unable to stop her.

  “When the plantation burned, I lost Momma and my baby brother in the fire. Me and my sister, we ran for the woods. We were safe there for a little while, until that driver found us and rounded us up. He took a liking to my sister. Eventually, he beat her to death. That was two days before we came through your town. I’d prayed God would save me from that man, ’cause I knew it wouldn’t be long before he came for me, too. We kept moving and I kept on praying. It was all I had left. Then I heard you yelling at him to stop hittin’ me and I thought, Lord, what kinda white woman is this?”

  I gave a little shrug, a grin pulling at my lips. “I promised myself I’d never be my mother.”

  I laughed then and Ruth joined me, a welcomed moment of necessary relief from the grief. I pulled her to me and hugged her close. “Oh, Ruth, I am so sorry. I’m so sorry for all that happened to you.”

  She eased away from me and shook her head. “Don’t you be sorry. You is the answer to my prayer. I’ll always be thankful for that.”

  I ignored the tears that welled in my eyes, letting them spill over onto my cheeks. Ruth slowly shook her head. “It seems to me like evil pays no mind to you’s status or color.”

  I straightened myself, filling with resolve. “I will not let it be so here. As soon as Charles is home, I will tell him what is happening.”

  Ruth offered a sad smile, but I didn’t have time to contemplate the meaning behind it. Thunder cracked over our heads, startling us both. I hadn’t noticed the darkening of the sky, I had been so lost in Ruth’s story. Unexpectedly, the heavens released and a torrent of rain spilled over us, instantly soaking through our dresses.

  “Hurry! Let’s get back in the buggy,” I shouted.

  Ruth struggled to untie the mare and then climbed into the seat. I pulled back on the reins, attempting to get the horse to back up, but I had haphazardly stopped in the middle of the trees and couldn’t get turned around. The buggy caught on a raised root, and Snowflake pawed the ground, tossing her head and whinnying her protest. The rain beat down so hard I could barely see.

  “I’ll lead her!” Ruth shouted over the rain and leapt from the side into the quickly gathering mud. Holding onto the horse’s bridle, she twisted and backed the mare from the small space and turned us around in the clearing. As soon as she heaved her soaking skirts into the seat, I urged the mare toward the small path that would lead us back to the main road.

  The driving rain and slick ground made our travel slow, and the wind gained strength with the building storm. A strong gust ripped the shade from the buggy like it was an umbrella in hand. Our only protection from the rain now gone, we were holding onto the sides of our seat as the buggy bounced and our bodies were drenched.

  I could see the main road approaching and knew we were going to make it, when my seat suddenly dropped from beneath me. Ruth slammed into me, pushing me against the rail. I heard a sickening crack and thought that my ribs had broken. When I caught my breath, I realized the sound had come from outside
my body.

  I scrambled down to look at the damage, Ruth by my side. As I feared, the wheel had cracked in several places.

  “We have to get Snowflake unhitched! We can’t use the buggy anymore.” I picked up a broken wheel spindle and tossed it in the seat. Ruth disappeared to the other side of the buggy and Snowflake’s rigging jerked with her efforts. I quickly undid my side of the harness and then lifted my hefty skirts to navigate through the mud to the other side.

  A scream ripped through the air. My heart galloped. “Ruth!” I scrambled around to the other side of the cart, tripping over my skirts and sliding on the slick ground. “Ruth!”

  I froze. The same vile man from the cabins had wrapped one arm around Ruth’s waist, with his other hand over her mouth. Her eyes screamed the fear her voice could not.

  “Just take yer horse and get on home, Ma’am. I’ll make sure this little gal is taken care of.” He yanked Ruth’s arm, freeing her grasp from the harness and allowing the rigging to drop.

  My feet remained planted in the ground. The thudding in my head blocked out all sound. I heard only the woosh of blood in my temples. The rain fell before my eyes in slow motion. I couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. Frozen.

  “There’s your horse,” he said, snarling. “You can get on back to the house now.” He tossed the reins at me. I watched them tumble to the soaked earth. When I looked up, my eyes found Ruth’s but their previous fire was now doused by torrents of hopelessness. Instead only haunted emptiness greeted my stare. Just like the little girl on the steps.

  Something in me snapped. Or maybe something broke free. Rage consumed me. I don’t remember how the wheel spoke got in my hand, but I do remember the satisfying crack it made landing across that disgusting, depraved face.

  Startled, he released Ruth and focused his fury on me, but I couldn’t be stopped now. I looked at the splintered spindle in my hand, its long tapered end sharp and jagged. He stepped toward me.

  Wrong choice. I felt power ripple through me. My muscles tensed, and my aim was sure.