SLAVE CHILD
by
Angela Dorsey
Kindle Edition
Copyright Angela Dorsey 2011
www.angeladorsey.com
Kindle Edition: Licence Notes:
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. Thank you for respecting the author's work.
Published By:
Enchanted Pony Books on Kindle
www.ponybooks.com
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“She’ll be home in fifteen minutes. You can take both her and the boy then.” The woman glanced at the dirty five-year-old boy crouching in the corner of the shabby room. He watched them with desperate eyes, like a frightened animal that has nowhere to run. A satisfied expression swept onto her face. Finally she would be rid of the two orphans her husband had forced upon her.
“She better be a good worker. Her scrawny little brother won’t be very useful,” the man said with a brutish voice. “He’ll be more of a burden than anything.”
The woman turned sharply toward him. “But if you want her, you have to take him, understand? That was our deal.” She thumped her teacup down on the table to emphasize her words and the last drops in the cup splattered onto the hard surface.
“Mama?” A timid voice came from the doorway to the bedrooms. She turned in her chair and immediately her face softened. “What is it, Serena?”
The well-dressed, dark girl came forward warily. She paused before speaking, as if taking time to gather her courage. “Please don’t do this, Mama. It’s not right. You know it’s not right. Giselle’s had such a hard life. She needs us.”
The woman held her arms out. “Come here, my love. There’s nothing to worry about.” Her arms encircled her daughter. “This is a wonderful opportunity for Giselle. Her new family will send her to school. You don’t want to stop her from getting an education, do you? And the boy will go to school too.”
“But Mama...”
“Now you listen to me, young lady,” the woman interrupted with a hard voice. She pushed Serena back so she could look into her eyes. “Giselle will be better off in the city.”
Serena wasn’t able to hold her mother’s gaze and her eyes dropped to the ground. The despair and frustration on her face said what she didn’t dare speak aloud – that she didn’t believe her mother’s words.
The woman’s tone lightened. “Once she learns to read and write, she can write to you. You’d like that, wouldn’t you, darling?”
A whimper came from the corner. The little boy was crying again. The woman glanced at him with disgust, then fought to compose her features before looking back into Serena’s worried face. “Now go get changed out of your school clothes. You should have done it hours ago.”
The girl lowered her head and turned toward the doorway. Reluctantly, she shuffled a few steps, then suddenly spun back around. Words flew from her mouth. “But I’ve heard people aren’t nice to the restavecs sometimes, Mama. And they don’t let them go to school even when they say they will. They’re not given enough to eat and they have to sleep on the floor with rags for blankets. They’re made to work all the time, and...”
Serena’s mother raised her hand. The girl’s mouth snapped shut and she stepped away in a single fluid motion. She knew from experience that her mother’s slaps were not gentle.
The woman slowly lowered her hand. “You heard wrong, Serena. That’s what I get for letting you hang around the schoolhouse too much. That teacher of yours is spreading lies. From now on, you come home straight after school. With Giselle gone, there’s going to be more work around here for you to do anyway.”
The girl tried one more time, her voice a wheedling whine. “But Mama...”
“That’s enough, Serena! Go! Now!” The woman’s words bit through the air, her patience completely gone.
Serena turned and looked at the boy cowering in the corner. Tears brimmed in her eyes. “Good-bye, Robert,” she whispered. “I wish...” Unable to say more, she fled from the room.
The woman sighed and lifted her bulk from the chair. She grabbed the cracked teapot from the counter.
“A strong looking girl,” the man said behind her. “She’d make a good restavec.”
The woman spun around, her eyes full of fire. “That one is my daughter,” she spit at the man. “She will never be a servant!”
“The other isn’t your daughter?” asked the man. He ran his fingers through his dark, oily hair.
“No. She is nothing to me,” said the woman as she sat down, the teapot handle clenched in her fist. She tipped the spout toward the man’s empty cup. “Would you like some more tea?” she asked, her voice sweet once again.
Giselle was so tired. Gratefully, she looked up at the mountain looming in front of her. The sun had almost disappeared behind it. Time to go home.
With a groan, she pushed herself up from the row of vegetables she’d been weeding. She stretched to ease the clenched muscles in her back, her face squinting in pain. She’d been hunched over the greenery for far too long, ever since early that afternoon when Madame Celeste had told her, in no uncertain terms, that she wanted the entire garden weeded by nightfall. And that was after Giselle had scrubbed all the floors in Madame’s house and washed the dirty dishes Giselle was sure Madame Celeste had saved for the last week.
Giselle had worked extra hard to do everything Madame had asked. She’d even laboured through the oppressive heat in the hottest part of the afternoon, when everyone else in their tiny Haitian town found a shady spot to rest. Giselle couldn’t have Madame getting angry with her today, because today she had to collect the wages she’d earned over the last month. Her aunt had told her that morning that she expected to see everything Madame owed her that night when she got home.
Giselle walked to the door of the small mud house. Madame wasn’t a rich woman. The only way she could afford hired help was because of the income she received from selling the vegetables from her garden and occasionally renting out her pony, Domi. Even then, she couldn’t afford to hire anyone other than Giselle, thanks to the incredibly low sum Giselle’s aunt charged for her niece’s labour.
Giselle knocked on the door. There was no response. She waited a moment, and knocked again, a little louder. When there was no obvious sound from within, Giselle held her ear next to the flimsy door. Maybe Madame was asleep.
Even if she’s sleeping, I have to wake her, thought Giselle. And she’s tried to pretend she was asleep before, to get out of paying. She’s probably hoping I’ll go away. She sighed. She couldn’t force Madame to pay her, and Aunty was going to be furious with her if she didn’t get at least some of the money owed her.
“Madame Celeste!” The door shook as she pounded on it with her fist. “Madame, please. I must speak with you,” yelled Giselle. “I can’t go home until I speak with you,” she added, so that Madame would think she would wait all night if she had to.
Giselle heard the metallic scrape as the bolt was pulled back, and then the door opened a crack. “Be quiet, girl. Are you trying to disturb all the neighbours?” said a reedy voice.
“I’m sorry, Madame,” replied Giselle politely. “But Aunty told me I must get my wages from you tonight.”
Madame answered her but the words were so low that Giselle couldn’t understand what she was saying.
“I’m sorry, Madame. I can’t hear you.” She turned her head to hear better.
“I said I won’t have your money until tomorrow. Are you deaf?”
“But I must have it tonight,” Giselle said. She hated to hear
the panic rising in her voice, the pathetic desperation. But what would Aunty do if she turned up empty-handed?
Ever since her uncle, her mother’s brother, left to work in the sugar plantations across the border, Aunty had been cruel to Giselle and Robert, her little brother. Giselle had known that her aunt felt she had enough mouths to feed with her own children, and that the two orphans were an inconvenience to her, and so she never minded working and giving all her money to her aunt. She felt that at least she should pay for Robert’s and her food. In her ignorance, she thought that would be enough to make her aunt feel more kindly toward them. It didn’t.
One week after their uncle left, their aunt told Giselle that she wished both Giselle and Robert had died of the fever that killed their mother and father. Giselle was aghast. Though she’d known they were a burden to their aunt, she hadn’t realized how much their aunt disliked them.
In the weeks that followed, their aunt became even more abusive. Only Giselle and Robert’s two cousins, Serena and Pierre, knew of their mother’s seething anger, and both of them tried to appease her in their own way. When they realized there was no saving Giselle and Robert from their mother’s rage, Serena started spending a lot more time at the school and Pierre left with his friends as much as possible. Giselle’s aunt blamed her and Robert for her children’s absence.
“I tell you, I’ll give it to you tomorrow. Are you stupid?” hissed Madame Celeste, bringing Giselle’s thoughts back to the present. “Monsieur Dupont comes tomorrow to get the pony, and then I can pay you.”
For a moment, Giselle couldn’t speak. Could hardly breathe. When she finally was able to form words, her voice felt scratchy. “Monsieur Dupont? He’s coming for Domi?”
“Yes,” said the woman, then her voice became softer. “I know you like this pony, but he is getting old, Giselle. When I have enough money, I’ll buy a younger pony to take his place. You will like this new one just as much, oui?”
“But Madame,” emotion choked Giselle’s voice. “Monsieur Dupont buys horses and ponies for slaughter.”
“Yes, but that is the way of life, Giselle.”
“But Madame...”
“No more talking. Come back tomorrow and I’ll give you your money.” The door shut in Giselle’s face. She stood for a moment, breathing heavily. Tears sprang from her eyes. She had to do something, but what? If only she had the money to buy Domi, but the wages Madame owed her wouldn’t be enough to buy even one small black hoof.
A soft whinny came from across the yard and Giselle’s shoulders tensed even more. She put her hands to her eyes and a sob broke the silence in the yard. “What can I do?” she whispered in a rough murmur. “I have to stop her somehow. She can’t sell Domi to be slaughtered.”
Giselle stumbled toward the pony’s canvas shelter. As usual, the night had dropped over the town almost as fast as a blanket falling from the sky. Halfway to Domi’s shack, she realized she hadn’t watered the pony since late afternoon and groped for the water pump. As the bucket filled with water, she used the time to compose herself. There was no point in worrying Domi. And maybe, if she could just think, she could come up with a plan. When the bucket was full, she carried it to Domi’s shelter and stepped inside. The pony greeted her with a nicker.
“We have until tomorrow, Domi. I’ll think of something,” Giselle whispered and put the bucket at the pony’s hooves. “Maybe if I promise to work for free for the next three or four years, Madame will keep you. She’ll recognize it’s a good deal for her. She’s not unreasonable.”
But Aunty is, Giselle suddenly realized. And she won’t like it if I don’t bring money home even from one job. Or she might find out that I’m buying Domi with my labour and try to sell him to the knacker herself. I’ll have to swear Madame Celeste to secrecy.
Giselle gently rubbed the gray pony’s withers as he took a long drink. Madame was right about one thing. Domi was getting old. He was thinner than he used to be and his hair didn’t have the same sheen it once had. He needed her to take good care of him.
“Don’t you worry, Domi. I’ll figure it out and stop by first thing in the morning to talk to Madame,” she said softly. Her fingers traced down the center of where she guessed the white streak on his face would be if it weren’t too dark to see. “And I’ll figure out what to do with Aunty too,” she continued. “Maybe I can take another job or ask for a raise at one of the other places I work. As long as Aunty doesn’t find out, we’ll be okay.”
The pony nuzzled her arm. Giselle drew a trembling breath and gave Domi a quick hug around the neck. “Goodnight, my friend,’ she whispered and left the shelter. His soft whinny followed her into the night.
Giselle passed through the back streets like a shadow. She knew it was dangerous to wander around the unlit streets after night fell. Unsavoury characters seemed to come out of nowhere when the sun went down, even in her small town. In the distance, she heard the voodoo drums begin their steady beat. They would continue until dawn, she knew, as they did almost every night. Giselle hurried into her aunt’s back yard and closed the metal gate behind her.
A sudden chill ran down her back and she froze. Someone was watching her. She could feel it. She strained her eyes trying to pierce the cloak of darkness. And she saw something! A man! Or half a man? A split second later she knew what she was seeing Pierre’s clothes, drying on the clothes line. She almost laughed out loud.
Then she heard a slight movement in the shadows beside her. Her heartbeat swelled to thunder in her ears and the hair on her arms prickled in abrupt fear. So it hadn’t been her imagination! Someone was there, in the darkness, watching her.
“Giselle?” The voice was as soft as a breeze.
Giselle felt an explosion of relief. It was only her cousin, Serena. “Yes, it’s me,” she whispered.
A warm hand touched her arm. “Come, quick. Behind the mango tree. And quietly. She can’t know you’re here.”
“What is it? What’s wrong?” Giselle asked as she stepped behind the sturdy tree trunk.
Serena released her arm. “Giselle, you must go. You must run away. Tonight.” She shoved a sack into Giselle’s hands.
Giselle pushed the sack back at Serena but her cousin wouldn’t take it. “What? Why? Why must I leave? I don’t understand.” She couldn’t stop her voice from breaking. Did Serena hate her too now?
There was a long silence from Serena. Giselle searched the intense darkness for her cousin’s face. If she could just see one feature, maybe she could comprehend why Serena was acting so strangely. “I don’t understand,” Giselle finally added. “I thought we were friends. I thought…” She couldn’t finish.
Serena’s response was to throw her arms around Giselle. She laid her head on Giselle’s shoulder and sobbed quietly. “What is it?” Giselle asked again, almost overwhelmed with relief. Serena still liked her. She patted her cousin on the shoulder. “Please, tell me.”
“You must go,” choked Serena. “Mama has...” She stopped. In the distance, the voodoo drums became louder.
“Has what?” asked Giselle, though she didn’t want to ask. Didn’t want to hear the answer.
Serena pulled away and Giselle waited fearfully as her cousin gathered her emotions. When Serena spoke, her voice was forced, strained. “She is sending you away, to be a...a restavec.”
Giselle staggered backward, and only Serena’s hand on her arm kept her from falling. Now that Serena had started, she couldn’t stop. “She and an agent are waiting in the house for you to come home,” she continued quietly but insistently. “That is why she asked that you get your money from Madame Celeste tonight. She is planning to take your wages from you before you go. And Giselle, there is more.”
“What?” The word seemed to come from somewhere outside Giselle. She leaned against the tree, her knees shaking.
“Robert is to go as well.”
The thought of her baby brother being taken to the city to work as a restavec, a child labourer, was even worse
than being taken herself. Giselle knew she could survive something like that because she would remember what it was like not to be a restavec. Restavecs were usually only kept while they were children and young teenagers, and within a few years she would be turned out of her master’s house to fend for herself. Somehow she would be able to survive. But Robert was only five years old. If he were taken now, he would grow up never knowing what it was like to have a family. His mind would be stunted and warped by the life he would lead as a restavec.
“The police,” choked Giselle. But even as she said it, she knew there was nothing they could do. Robert would be taken toward the city early in the morning, long before the police station opened for the day. Even if she could find an officer that night, it would be too late. The agent would shortly take Robert from her aunt’s house and hide him away until morning. And perhaps worst of all, she knew it was unlikely a policeman would believe her. All her aunt needed to say was that Giselle was lying or crazy or stupid, and Giselle knew how convincing her aunt could sound, how sweet and caring, when she wanted to. “What am I to do, Serena? How can I save him?” she whispered, her voice desperate.
“You can’t. It’s too late for him. But it’s not too late for you, Giselle.” She reached down and felt the ground for the cloth bag. Giselle hadn’t even realized she’d dropped it. Serena pushed the bag of food back into Giselle’s hands. “Run away, Giselle. Into the mountains. To some other town. Just get away from here. You can’t let this man take you.”
“But Robert...” A high-pitched whine.
“No buts,” said Serena, sounding uncannily like her mother. “You can save yourself. Now go, before it’s too late. They’ll come looking soon, and then we’ll both be caught.”
Giselle stumbled toward the gate. The dirt beneath her bare feet felt strangely cold, the bag in her hands, insubstantial. Her life had just reached a new low, something she hadn’t thought possible. Before tonight, she may not have had parents or an education, she may have been beaten by her aunt for every little thing, but at least she had a home to go to. At least she and Robert had a family. But no more. It was all over. She’d finally lost everything. Everything but her freedom – and that would be stolen from her too, if she didn’t act quickly. Serena was right. Her only hope was to leave. If she stayed anywhere near the town, her aunt and the agent would find her. She had one chance, and that was to run and run far, somewhere her aunt wouldn’t think to look.
Slave Child (Horse Guardian) Page 1