Ransom of Love

by Al Lacy

“All day long I’ve noticed that you seem troubled about something. Is there anything I can do for you?”

  “It is nothin’ you can do anythin’ about, ma’am. Thank you, though.”

  Martha shook her head. “I can’t let you look so burdened without learning what it is, Mose. Now I insist that you tell me.”

  He cleared his throat nervously, then said, “Mrs. Colvin, what has me upset is a bad dream I had last night.”

  Martha’s brow furrowed. “A bad dream?”

  “Yes, ma’am. I have not been able to shake off its effects since I woke up in the middle of the night and wasn’t able to go back to sleep.”

  “My, oh, my. It must have been some dream.”

  “It was, ma’am. It was.”

  “Well, tell me about it.”

  “Yes, ma’am. Before I do, I want to make sure you understand that as a born-again Christian, I do not put stock in dreams as some kind of message from God. I believe He speaks to His children through His written Word and by the Holy Spirit in their hearts. Often He guides them by circumstances He brings into their lives. Do you understand this, ma’am?”

  “I assure you I do,” Martha said. “But I want to know about this dream that has so upset you.”

  Ol’ Mose ran a hand over his mouth. “I dreamed las’ night that Master George was ridin’ his horse at a gallop. The horse stumbled, throwin’ him to the ground. His head hit somethin’ hard, Miss Martha, and it killed him.”

  Martha’s eyes widened, and her hand went to her mouth.

  “Please do not let it bother you, ma’am,” Mose said in a comforting tone. “It was only a dream. The reason it upset me so much was because it was so vivid. Like dreams sometimes do, it stayed with me after I got up for the day. I jis’ couldn’t shake it from my mind, even when I came to work this mornin’. I still can’t get it out of my thoughts.”

  By this time, Martha was trembling, and tears were misting her eyes.

  “Miss Martha, please don’t let it upset you. It was jis’ a dream. I’m sure I will get over it by tomorrow.”

  “No, Mose. You don’t understand.”

  “Understand what, ma’am?”

  “At this very moment, George and Edward are racing each other on horseback at the back side of the plantation.” She pulled a hankie from the sleeve of her dress and pressed it to her nose. “I’m frightened, Mose.”

  Finn came through the doorway of the parlor and heard Martha’s words.

  Mose was saying, “Please do not let it upset you, Mrs. Colvin. It was only a dream.”

  Both of them turned toward Finn as he came closer and saw Martha in tears. He looked at Mose and said, “What dream? What’s this all about?”

  When Mose told Finn, he laughed and laid a hand on Martha’s shoulder. “Hey, Martha, calm down! So Mose dreamed that George got killed riding a horse. There’s nothing to it. Dreams don’t mean anything.”

  “But those boys are out there riding right now! That’s what worries me! They’re racing each other.”

  Finn chuckled. “So? They race each other all the time. Now stop crying. Nothing is going to happen to George.”

  Finn turned to the old man. “Don’t you have some work to do?”

  Finn Colvin was sitting on the back porch, reading a newspaper he had picked up in town. Suddenly, the sight of two horses coming at a walk past the slave shacks caught his eye. He squinted, and it took only a few seconds to see that Edward was leading George’s limping horse, with George draped over the saddle.

  He dropped the paper and bounded off the porch. Slaves looked on wide-eyed as Finn ran up to Edward and saw that he was weeping. He shot a glance at George’s lifeless form.

  “Wha—what happened?”

  His face void of color, Edward slid listlessly from the saddle and said, “We were racing, Pa. George’s horse stumbled on a broken tree limb. George was thrown from the saddle as the horse went down. His head struck a rock. He’s dead.”

  Finn examined George’s bloody head and ejected a wordless wail, then sobbed, “It’s true! It’s true! Exactly as Mose dreamed it!”

  Edward put an arm around his father’s shoulders. “Pa, what’re you talkin’ about?”

  Finn looked at his youngest son. “Ol’ Mose had a dream last night. He dreamed that George was riding his horse. The horse stumbled, and George was thrown from the saddle. He hit his head and it killed him! He told this to your mother and me no more than two hours ago!”

  Finn worked to get himself under control. “Oh, I hate to have to tell your mother. This will tear her to pieces.”

  “Pa … do you want me to tell her?”

  “No, son. I have to do it. I’ll let you explain how it happened after I break it to her. Let’s take George into the house.”

  “I’ll carry him, Pa.”

  “No. I’ll carry him. Turn the horses over to the slaves and let them remove the saddles and bridles.”

  As he spoke, Finn planted his feet firmly next to the horse and eased George’s body into his arms.

  When they moved inside the house, there was no one in sight. Finn carried the body past the kitchen. “I’ll put him on the love seat in the sewing room. You stay with him. I’ll go find your mother and bring her.”

  Martha suddenly appeared at the far end of the hall and froze when she saw the body in her husband’s arms. She dropped a vase of flowers and cried out in horror.

  “Go to her, Edward,” Finn said, “while I lay him down.”

  Edward hadn’t taken the first step when Martha bolted toward them, crying, “What happened? What happened?” Her eyes were wide and her face like stone as she said, “Edward! Is he—”

  He gripped her shoulders. “Yes, Mom. He’s dead.”

  She shut her eyes tight. “The dream was true, Edward! It was true! Mose’s dream was true!”

  Finn came from the sewing room and brushed past Edward to fold Martha in his arms. “I don’t understand it, Martha,” he said. “I don’t understand it, but George was killed exactly as Mose dreamed.”

  “I want to see him,” she said, choking on her words.

  “I know. But I have to warn you. It’s not a pretty sight. His head is caved in where he struck the rock. There’s blood …”

  Martha pushed him aside and ran to the sewing room. At sight of her son, she released a wail and fell across his chest.

  Finn stood beside her, his hand on her back. She cried as if her heart would shatter. Edward, who stood next to his father, saw movement at the door and turned to find Ol’ Mose.

  The old man’s wrinkled face twisted as he said, “Master Edward, was he thrown from his horse?”

  “Yes. Pa told me about your dream.”

  Mose seemed unable to say any more. He leaned on the door frame until Martha brought her emotions under control and with Finn’s help stood to her feet. She looked at Mose and said, “How? How could you have known?”

  “I didn’t know, Miss Martha. It jis’ happened in my sleep when I dreamed. It … has to be only a coincidence.”

  “Strange coincidence,” said Finn. “Last night you dreamed this very thing would happen. And now, here lies George, dead from being thrown from his horse.”

  Mose met Finn’s gaze with tender eyes. “I don’t understand it, Master Finn. I am so sorry.”

  Finn took a deep breath and closed his eyes for moment, then said, “It’s no fault of yours. Go on back to your work.”

  TWO DAYS LATER, GEORGE COLVIN’S BODY lay inside an expensive coffin in the shade of huge magnolia trees surrounding the family burial plot. The Johnsons and the Moores were there, as well as neighbors from miles around.

  Zack and Catherine Johnson, and Charles and Evelyn Moore waited for the graveside service to begin. The minister was from a large church in Charleston. Although Finn would not darken the door of any church, they weren’t surprised that he would want some semblance of spirituality connected to George’s burial.

  There was no singing before the ministe
r approached the coffin and began his short speech. He read one verse from the Psalms, told what a good man George Colvin was and that he had gone to heaven as a result of his good life.

  When it was over, the Johnsons and the Moores stepped into the line of people waiting to express their condolences.

  When it was their turn in front of the Colvins, Catherine and Evelyn spoke kindly to Finn and Edward, then embraced Martha.

  “Honey,” Catherine said, “Evelyn and I would like to spend some time with you soon.”

  Finn bristled at their words. “I know what you have in mind, and I’ll have none of it! I don’t want you talking to Martha about the Bible or anything connected to it!”

  He turned to Martha. “Don’t you talk to them, do you hear me?”

  Charles stepped closer and said in a soft tone, “Finn, our wives only want to help Martha.”

  “She doesn’t need any of your religious fanatic help! Now I’ll thank you to leave this property!”

  Martha’s face pinched as she looked at Catherine and Evelyn through tears.

  Zack started to say something, but Finn cut him off. “Now, I said! Leave this property now!”

  Benjamin had completed two weeks at the Johnson plantation and thoroughly enjoyed the work assigned to him. He felt a special pleasure in spending time with the slaves and helping them with their work.

  On a bright spring day, he left his quarters and entered the Johnson mansion by the rear door. Catherine was in the kitchen with her slave, Daisy, who was in her early twenties. Daisy had lived on the plantation for ten years and was promised to one of the young men who had been the Johnsons’ slave for almost as long as she had.

  “Good morning, Benjamin,” Catherine said. “Did you have a good night’s sleep?”

  “Yes, ma’am. I never knew what a real bed was until I came here.” He glanced at Daisy. “Good morning to you, Miss Daisy.”

  “And to you, Benjamin.”

  “And how is Theodore? Is he working in the fields today?”

  “He is fine,” Daisy said. “And today, Master Zack has him working in the number two barn.”

  Benjamin smiled. “So how long till you and Theodore become husband and wife?”

  “ ’Bout three months. Preacher Zebulun is havin’ sessions with us, teachin’ us about marriage and all.”

  “Well, that is nice. The two of you make a handsome couple.”

  “Thank you,” Daisy said, a pleased smile creasing her lips.

  “Benjamin, I’ve got some work for you to do right away,” Catherine said. “Master Zack said to tell you he will pay you for the past two weeks when he gets back from town.”

  Benjamin flashed a smile. “I still cannot believe I am actually going to be paid for being your servant, Miss Catherine. The Lord has indeed been good to this South African man. So what do you want done right away?”

  “Angeline gets together with Priscilla Moore once a week and they spend the day together.”

  “Is Priscilla Moore the daughter of some plantation owners, ma’am?”

  “Yes. The Moores are neighbors and very good friends. We belong to the same church, so our families visit each other quite often. The girls alternate spending time at one house, then the other. The past couple of weeks, things have been so hectic at both places, they haven’t been able to meet. However, Priscilla and her slave are coming here today.”

  “Yes,” said Daisy, “and Dorena always spends some time with me when they are here. We’re very close friends.”

  “So what I need, Benjamin, is for you to make sure the parlor is spic and span. The girls will spend a great deal of time in there and I need you to make sure the back porch is swept and clean, because part of their day will be spent there, too.”

  “Yes, ma’am. I will take care of it.”

  Priscilla Moore stood in the vestibule of her home, talking animatedly to her mother about plans for a day with Angeline.

  Priscilla’s father waited at the open door, watching for the carriage.

  “Oh, Mother, I’m so happy for Dorena! She’s going to get to meet him today!”

  Charles looked over his shoulder. “Who is Dorena going to meet today, honey?”

  “Benjamin, Papa!”

  Charles gave her a blank look. “I don’t understand.”

  “Charles, dear, you must be getting hard of hearing,” Evelyn said.

  “What do you mean?”

  “All Dorena has talked about around here since the auction a couple of weeks ago is that handsome Benjamin the Johnsons kept Finn Colvin from buying.”

  “Oh, him! I sure was glad when Zack and Catherine told us about Benjamin being led to the Lord by Dan.”

  Priscilla nodded. “I think it’s so wonderful what Mr. Johnson did by making Benjamin the house servant, rather than a slave. Anyway, Papa, Dorena has had this great big crush on Benjamin ever since that day at the auction, and she’s been talking about him nearly all the time. I’m surprised you haven’t heard her.”

  Charles grinned. “I guess I’ve just been preoccupied. Anyway, from what I know, Benjamin is a fine young man. I hope he and Dorena can become friends. Speaking of Dorena … how come she’s not down here yet?”

  “She’ll be here any minute, Papa. She’s been fixing herself up very special.”

  Just then, Dorena appeared at the top of the stairs. “I’m sorry if I’m holding you up, Miss Priscilla,” she said.

  “You’re not. The carriage isn’t even here yet.”

  Charles and Evelyn could not believe their eyes as they watched Dorena descend the stairs.

  She had dressed herself with great care, choosing a sky blue calico dress with white and yellow flowers dotting the pastel fabric. The delicate collar accentuated her graceful, slender neck.

  Her braided hair was wrapped around her head in coronet fashion. Tendrils of unruly curls framed her lovely face. On her feet were soft black slippers, which she usually wore only on Sundays or in cold weather.

  “Will you look at this, Mother!” Charles said. “Dorena, I’ve never seen you look lovelier!”

  The young girl smiled shyly. “Thank you, Master Charles.”

  The carriage arrived, and moments later Charles was in the driver’s seat, putting the horses in motion. The girls waved at Evelyn standing on the porch.

  When the carriage came to a halt in front of the Johnson mansion, Angeline was outside, waiting for them. Charles helped both girls to the ground.

  “Thank you, Papa,” Priscilla said and kissed his cheek.

  “Thank you, Master Charles,” said Dorena.

  Charles smiled, then said to his daughter, “I’ll pick you up after supper.”

  As Charles Moore drove away, Angeline led both girls inside the mansion and took them to the parlor.

  Catherine ran her gaze over Dorena and said, “You sure look nice today, honey. I love your hair.”

  Dorena curtsied. “Thank you, ma’am.”

  “She’s all fixed up for a special reason, Mother,” said Angeline. “She’s hoping to meet Benjamin.”

  Dorena lowered her gaze to the floor.

  Catherine smiled and laid a hand on her shoulder. “Don’t be embarrassed, sweetie. Some of the girls here on the plantation have crushes on him, too. He’s a very handsome young man. And a very nice young man, I might add.”

  “Yes, ma’am. I was glad to learn that he has become a Christian.”

  “We’re all happy about that,” Catherine said.

  “Is Benjamin in the house now, Mrs. Johnson?” Priscilla asked.

  “No, dear. I kept him pretty busy here until about a half hour ago. But when I ran out of work for him, he went to the fields to work with the slaves.”

  Priscilla’s eyebrows raised. “Really? I thought he was a hired servant.”

  “Oh, he is, dear, but this young man is very special. When his work is caught up around the house and the yard, he chooses to work with the slaves.”

  “Just shows what kind of pers
on he is,” Angeline said. “Mother is right. Benjamin is special.”

  Dorena sighed. “Yes. That is what I thought when I saw him the day of the auction.”

  “Well, I’m sure you will get to meet him, dear,” said Catherine. “He will come in from the fields with the others. If you want to see Daisy, she’s upstairs in my room, doing some work for me.”

  “All right,” Dorena said. “I will go on up. Maybe there’s something I can do to help her.”

  It was late in the afternoon when Angeline and Priscilla were sitting at a table on the back porch of the mansion. The back door opened and Dorena came out with a tray.

  “How about some lemonade?” she said. “Daisy and I are going to have some in the kitchen. I thought you might be thirsty.”

  Priscilla smiled at her. “I am, now that you mention it. Thank you.”

  Angeline let her gaze trail off toward the barns. As Dorena set the tray on the table, Angeline said, “Here comes Benjamin!”

  Dorena’s head snapped up. “Oh, it is him!” she gasped, as she set a glass of lemonade in front of Priscilla.

  “Relax,” Priscilla said, laying a hand on her arm.

  “But now that it’s about to happen, I’m scared.”

  “It will be all right,” Priscilla said.

  Benjamin was veering in the direction of his quarters.

  Angeline stood up to get his attention and called to him.

  The tall, handsome servant stopped. “Yes, ma’am? Is there something I can do for you?”

  “Yes! Please come over here. There is someone I want you to meet.”

  As he drew up, Benjamin’s eyes went to Dorena, who was having a hard time breathing.

  “Benjamin,” said Angeline, gesturing toward her best friend, “this is Priscilla Moore. Mother told you about our neighbors, the Moores, whose plantation is about three miles down the road.”

  Benjamin was still looking at Dorena, reliving the moment when she had passed by the auction block and smiled at him. Her striking beauty had captured him then and he had memorized her lovely features. He had thought of her many times since that moment, not knowing who she was or to whom she belonged.

  Completely in awe of her, he mentally shook himself. He pulled his eyes from her and looked at Priscilla. Bowing, he said, “It is my pleasure to meet you, Miss Priscilla.”