Seth eyed the young woman in front of him.
He made his decision.
“Women in a family way will be allowed two extra rest periods. One in the morning and one in the afternoon.”
Lucy’s eyes widened with surprise, as did those of the woman who’d stepped forward. When Monroe’s head jerked in his direction, his mouth open for argument, Seth met his angry gaze. “If anyone has a complaint against this new rule, he can take it up with me later. Now, get back to work, all of you.”
The crowd dispersed, with several people casting curious glances toward Seth as they went.
“Massa Luther ain’t gonna like this when he hears,” Monroe sneered.
Seth heard the unspoken threat. “As overseer, I will take it up with him when I see him next. Until then, I expect you to follow my instructions.”
The two men glared at one another for a long moment before Monroe turned his back and stalked to his horse. Seth watched him gallop off in the direction of the field workers, barking orders as he went.
Heaving a sigh, Seth took off his hat and rubbed the back of his sweaty neck. If these first few days were any indication of what the future held for him as Rose Hill’s overseer, he knew he’d have his work cut out for him. Last night he’d fallen into bed, exhausted from trying to learn his job while having to act as though he knew what he was doing. Monroe’s surly attitude didn’t help. Luther expected Seth to have things under control from the beginning, and that’s the image he was trying to portray to everyone.
Except he knew the truth. He wasn’t cut out to be an overseer on a large cotton plantation. The fact was, he wouldn’t be there if it weren’t for his injury. He longed to be in the saddle, riding the open range, never knowing what danger or excitement might find him that day. That’s the life he’d dreamed of since he was boy and saw his first Texas Ranger. When a Comanche raiding party terrorized settlers near his father’s farm, they sent for help. Seth would never forget the day a group of riders galloped into the yard, sitting high in their saddles with long rifles across their laps. Young Seth stared in awe and wonder, gaping at the rough, rugged men. Days later, when they returned with tales of their success fast on their tongues, Seth knew farming was not the life he wanted.
“Mistah Brantley, suh?”
The small voice startled Seth from his memories. He looked down to find the boy with the floppy hat a few paces away, staring up at him with inquisitive eyes.
“Yes?”
Suddenly shy, the boy ducked his head. “I jest wonderin’, suh, iffen you’d like a drink, suh.”
Seth’s brow rose in surprise. “Well, that is very thoughtful of you to offer.” The boy lifted his head a notch to peek up at him. Seth tapped the canteen hanging from his saddle. “I have my own water, though.”
Disappointment drooped the child’s shoulders. “Oh.”
“But I’m sure my horse would like some water.” Seth dismounted with the boy watching. “I’ll cup my hands, and you pour water into them. We’ll give Chester a nice drink.”
The boy hurried to obey. After they’d watered the animal, Seth eyed the child. “What’s your name?”
“Oliver, suh. Oliver Ellis,” he said, using the last name of his master the way most slaves did.
Seth looked him over, from his baggy overalls to his dirty bare feet. “How old are you, Oliver?”
“Mammy says I seven last month.” He beamed with pride. “Says I old ’nough to tote water now, like my brother done toted ’fore he went to work in dem fields.”
“Well, you are doing a fine job, Oliver.”
The boy’s grin grew. “Thank’ee, Mistah Brantley. Mammy be right pleased to hear such. Says I gots to learn how to be val’able to Massa Luther so he don’t up an’ sells me to some other white man.”
The honest words hit Seth in the gut. He stared at the child, wondering if Oliver simply repeated unfounded fears he’d overheard grownups talking about. Then he remembered the slave auction in Galveston and knew the fears were real. Children younger than Oliver had been ripped from their mother’s arms and sold to the highest bidder.
He looked into Oliver’s happy face, who was smiling because he was being valuable to his white Massa. No seven-year-old boy should have to worry he might be sold away from his family. Seth knew his father would never think of selling off the children of his slaves, splitting up families the way other plantation owners— including, apparently, Luther Ellis—had no qualms doing.
“No,” he finally said. “We wouldn’t want that. You keep doing a good job, and I will be sure Master Luther hears about it.”
Oliver tilted his head to the side, studying Seth in a way no grown slave would ever do. “You shore is diff ’ernt from Mistah Haley.” With a shrug of his bony shoulders, he lifted the bucket by its wooden handle. “I best gets back ta work or Monroe come a’lookin’ for me an’ box my ears.”
Seth watched the rail-thin boy head out to the cotton fields, his spindly arms weighted by the heavy bucket. How many miles did the child travel each day, toting his pail back and forth from the creek or well out to the fields? A flash of his own carefree childhood, running and playing as children should, reminded him what an impossibly different life Oliver and the other slaves lived.
CHAPTER SIX
Dusk settled over the plantation, bringing with it a quiet that Adella craved. Natalie’s arrival that afternoon had the entire household in an upheaval. Aunt Lu was in a foul mood, and even Papa had retired to his study with the door closed, leaving George and Natalie in the parlor, oblivious to everyone but each other.
Taking a chance no one would notice her absence, Adella hurried down the path that led to the horse barn. Warm night air scented with the sweet fragrance coming off Mama’s rose bushes along the porch caressed her skin, while a sliver of moon in the cloudless night sky lit the way. She wanted to see Freedom again since it was unlikely she’d have another opportunity while Natalie visited. With a pat on the round bulge in her pocket, she glanced about, making certain she was alone.
The heavy barn door gave a loud screech upon opening. Adella stilled, her hand on the latch, listening for voices from within. But with the sun long settled below the horizon, the stable hands were most likely back in their cabins for the night. A glance in the direction of the quarter revealed cooking fires ablaze with shadowy forms moving back and forth in the glow. Bits of conversation floated on the evening breeze. A laugh. A baby’s cry. It seemed everyone was in for the night.
With that knowledge, Adella crept inside the cavernous building on silent feet. Once the door closed behind her, blocking out the pale moonlight, she realized a lantern was required to find her way down the aisles without tripping. Recalling that one usually hung on the post near the door, she felt in front of her with outstretched hands. Carefully inching her fingers up the wood, she met the cool metal of the lantern along with a bundle of matches wedged between the handle and chimney.
Warm yellow light spilled into the gloomy darkness once the wick flamed. Horses shifted in their stalls, disturbed from their rest. Some poked their heads out to see who was stirring. Speaking in hushed tones, she moved down the row with unhurried steps, reassuring them all was well. The last thing she wanted was a stable full of spooked animals.
Rounding the corner to the second row of stalls, Adella slowed. Freedom’s was at the end, far away from any of the other horses. She hoped the stable hands were taking good care of him and not starving him out, as she’d once overheard some of her father’s guests describe. Wild horses, they’d claimed, could be brought to submission much easier if they were weak from lack of nourishment. One of the other guests had laughed, saying he found the same to be true of his Negroes.
Closing the distance with cautious steps, Adella held her breath when he came into view. His huge eyes glowed in the lantern light, giving him an even wilder look than usual. In the shadows of the stable, she couldn’t tell if he was still tethered on each side of his powerful neck.
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“I imagine you thought I wouldn’t come back,” she said, her voice soft and low. With her free hand, she slowly reached into her pocket and pulled out the apple. “But I made you a promise, and I intend to keep it.”
The horse didn’t move but continued to watch her. The fact that he didn’t shy away as he’d done that morning was a good sign. It meant he was getting used to human contact, which would make taming him that much easier.
Locating a nail on a nearby post, Adella hung the lantern then stepped back into the pool of light it cast. “See,” she said, the apple flat on the palm of her hand where the horse could see it. “This is for you.” She crept closer. “Now, be a good horse, and I will give it to you.”
When she’d come as close as she dared and the horse hadn’t moved, Adella relaxed her tense muscles. “There, I knew we could be friends.”
Her teeth clamped on her bottom lip. She leaned toward the animal, but a strong hand reached through the darkness and grabbed her arm. The apple dropped to the ground.
“I wouldn’t do that,” a deep voice said at the same moment she let out a shriek. Freedom backed deeper into his stall at the ruckus.
Adella whirled to find Seth Brantley holding her. Her heart pounded so hard she was certain he could hear it. For one frightening moment, she’d thought Monroe had found her alone in the barn. “You scared me nearly to death,” she said, wrenching her arm from his grasp. “What do you think you’re doing, sneaking up behind me like that?”
“Possibly saving your hand from a nasty bite, or worse,” he replied, a hint of a smile on his lips.
His audacity fueled her annoyance. “I sincerely doubt that, Mr. Brantley. I have been around horses from the time I could walk. I was simply giving Freedom a treat. Not exactly a threat to my well-being, wouldn’t you agree?”
His brow raised. “Freedom?”
Too late, she realized she’d used the pet name she’d given the wild horse. Embarrassment quickly cooled her irritation, and she looked away, hating that she had to explain herself to this stranger. “Just a silly habit, I suppose. I have always given names to the animals on the plantation.”
She braced herself for his laughter. It didn’t come.
After a moment, he glanced to the horse and nodded. “It fits him. A big beast like that should run free, not be confined to a stall.”
Surprised he understood, Adella relaxed a bit. “I hope you won’t mention this to my father. He doesn’t think it is proper for me to be down here in the barn.”
“I would have to agree with him. It is not a place for a lady. Not in the daylight hours—” one dark brow arched, assuring Adella of his disapproval at finding her here with Jeptha earlier “—but especially alone at night. Any number of things could happen, the least of which is you being injured by a wild mustang.”
The censure in his voice rankled. “Mr. Brantley, Rose Hill has been my home my entire life. I have no reason to fear for my safety.”
His gaze boldly swept her from head to toe. “Then you underestimate the temptation you present, Miss Ellis.”
Her eyes widened at his improper insinuation.
“While I don’t think most slaves would abuse a white woman and risk a hanging, I understand there are runaway slaves in the area.” His hand brushed over his thigh in what seemed an unconscious move. “A man in a desperate situation will do just about anything.”
Adella frowned. She’d heard Papa and George speaking of the runaways, but it never entered her mind they might pose a danger to her or anyone else on Rose Hill land.
“My intention is not to frighten you, Miss Ellis,” he said, retrieving the apple and handing it to her. “Your father has entrusted me with a great responsibility on his plantation, although I realize you are not necessarily part of that responsibility. Nevertheless, I will do my utmost to ensure the safety of everyone at Rose Hill, should I believe they are in danger.”
Taken aback by this show of gallantry, Adella accepted the apple hesitantly. “I … I appreciate that, Mr. Brantley. Quite honestly, it never occurred to me the runaways could cause harm, but I suppose, as you say, desperation could lead one to do something he would not attempt otherwise.”
Their eyes met in the dim light. Warmth spread across Adella’s belly and up her neck, realizing how completely alone they were. A nicker from behind her thankfully drew the handsome man’s attention away.
“I think Freedom would like his apple now.”
Glad for the distraction, she looked at the apple in her hand and back to the horse. “I suppose I will just roll it to him as I did before since you don’t think it wise for me to get too close.”
“I didn’t say that.” He leaned his shoulder against a post and crossed his arms over his chest.
“You most certainly did.” She waved the apple in his direction. “I was about to give this to Freedom when you nearly scared me witless.”
He had the nerve to chuckle. “I simply said I wouldn’t do that if I were you. Freedom’s restraints have been loosened, and you hadn’t given him enough time to become familiar with your presence before getting close. I have no doubt he would have bitten your hand.” He nodded to the animal. “We’ve been here long enough now that he understands we aren’t going to hurt him.”
His words made sense, much to her chagrin. Presenting her back to the vexing man, Adella flattened her palm to balance the fruit. Freedom’s nostrils twitched at the scent, and his big eyes followed her every move. “This is for you, Freedom. Now, take it nicely and show Mr. Brantley that you and I are friends.” With cautious steps, she neared the big animal. When she’d come as close to the stall door as she dared, she leaned forward as she’d done before Seth grabbed her arm.
“Take it,” she whispered, her hand shaking slightly, more from excitement than fear of being bitten by the horse.
Freedom stared at her for several long seconds. Finally, he took a step closer, his ears alert and tail swishing. Ever so slowly, he stretched his neck over the stall door, and in a quick movement, snatched the apple off Adella’s palm without touching her.
A munching sound was her reward.
With a laugh, she turned to Seth, triumphant. “See? All ten fingers still intact.”
“I see.” He grinned. “But now I think you best get back to the big house before someone comes looking for you.”
Adella knew he was right. If George or her father found her in the barn—alone with a man, no less—there was no telling what kind of restrictions they would place on her.
Seth took the lantern from the nail and led the way down the aisles toward the door. Just before they reached the opening, a chestnut-colored horse poked his nose from his stall, nickering and showing his teeth.
“Chester, boy.” Seth stopped to rub the animal’s nose. “Sorry, I don’t have a treat for you. Freedom is the only lucky one tonight.” He tossed a grin at Adella.
Smiling, she joined him, the horse nosing her cupped hand in a friendly manner. “Is he yours?”
“Yep.” He rubbed the animal’s sleek, powerful neck. “Chester, this is Miss Ellis. Maybe if you smile real big, she’ll bring you an apple too.”
He tickled the horse under the jaw, causing the animal to bare his teeth.
Adella laughed. “I don’t think I have ever seen a horse smile like that before.”
With a good night pat on the horse’s neck, Seth continued to the barn door. “I’ve had Chester nearly five years now. He’s carried me halfway across Texas and back. We’ve been through a lot together.”
Stepping into the faint moonlight, a dozen questions tumbled across Adella’s mind about their new overseer. She cast a curious glance at him as he secured the door. “I imagine being a Texas Ranger was quite exciting.”
He didn’t look at her but motioned with his hand up the path toward the house. “It was. It was all I ever wanted to do.”
His quiet admission touched her. Papa had cleared up the mystery of why Seth had to leave the Rangers,
stating it was because of an injury, although he didn’t go into detail. The limp indicated that Seth’s leg still hadn’t fully healed, if it ever would.
“I hope to see Galveston and the ocean someday,” she said, hoping to change the subject. She hadn’t meant to pry by bringing up his time with the Rangers. “Papa does his best to describe it, but I am sure one has to see it for oneself to fully appreciate it.”
“It is something, all right. All gray and powerful. The sound of waves crashing onto shore is like nothing I have ever heard.” He glanced at her, then away. “But Galveston isn’t a place for a lady like yourself.”
She harrumphed. “There you go again. First, I am not allowed in a barn, and now I can’t go to Galveston. Where can a lady such as myself go? The parlor? The kitchen?”
A look of surprised humor filled his face. “Now, don’t get all riled because I think a lady should be protected and sheltered. Some unsavory business takes place in Galveston, which in turn draws in disreputable people. It isn’t a place I would take my daughter, should I ever have one.”
The image of the slaves Papa recently bought came to mind. Shackled together in the back of the plantation wagon, looking sad and lost. She could only imagine what the slave markets must be like, knowing even babies and children were often sold there.
A shudder went through her. “Perhaps you are right. But I would still like to see the ocean.”
He gave her a thoughtful look. “I have never told this to anyone before, but someday I plan to see the Pacific Ocean.”
“Gracious, but that is so far away,” she said, his declaration taking her by surprise. “I have heard tales about California, but I have never known anyone who traveled there.”
“Actually, I’m thinking I would like to go to Oregon now that it has become a state in the Union.”
She came to an abrupt stop, the big house directly in front of them. “Oregon? Forevermore, why?”
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