The Planter's Daughter

by Michelle Shocklee

  “Your father has asked me to escort you to your brother’s wedding Saturday.” When she began to protest, he raised his hand. “I told him I would only do so if you gave your consent.”

  Adella narrowed her eyes. “Why would you do that? You and Papa seem to have everything regarding my future planned down to the minute.”

  “I am sorry you feel that way, Adella Rose. Truly, I meant no harm in moving forward with our engagement before you and I had a chance to properly court.”

  His apparent sincerity drained the last of her fight. Emotionally exhausted, she closed her eyes for a long moment. When she looked at him again, eager hope filled his countenance. “Very well. You may escort me to the wedding.”

  With a slight bow, he reached for her hand and placed an unexpected kiss on her knuckles.

  From the barn, Seth watched Adella and Marshall as they stood on the lawn, talking. He couldn’t hear what they said, but their conversation seemed intense. When Marshall kissed her hand, Seth turned away, a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach.

  “Chester sho’ did get him a nasty cut, Mistah Brantley, suh,” Jeptha said, examining the horse’s foreleg where trails of blood had already begun to dry. “But I fix him up real good with one o’ Mammy’s poultices. That do the trick.”

  Seth had to chuckle. “Mammy doctors the horses too?”

  Jeptha grinned. “Mammy doctors ever’body.”

  While Jeptha went off to make the poultice, Seth ran a hand over Chester’s strong neck. “I’m sorry, ol’ boy,” he said, feeling a world of guilt after taking the horse through a briar patch. He should have been paying closer attention to where they were going, but his mind could think of nothing but Adella. Maybe it was fate that brought him back to the barn in time to see her with Marshall.

  Jeptha returned with a thick, smelly yellow mixture smeared onto a rag. “We tie this around his leg an’ change it ever’ few hours. That oughta keep infection from gettin’ in.”

  Seth watched the slave clean the wounds before carefully tying the bandage on the horse. Thinking back on the day he and Adella rode through the plantation, he recalled the stories she told about her childhood with Jeptha as her playmate.

  “Miss Ellis was worried about you.” He kept a firm hold on Chester’s bridle so the horse wouldn’t spook at Jeptha’s ministrations. “She wanted to know where you’ve been. You weren’t at the party.”

  Jeptha glanced up. “Missy askin’ ’bout me?”

  Seth nodded. “She thought you might be sick.”

  Uneasiness crossed Jeptha’s face. He resumed his treatment of the horse, but Seth got the distinct feeling he wanted to say more. When Chester’s bandage was in place, the slave gathered his supplies and stood.

  “Is something troubling you, Jeptha? Something about Miss Ellis?”

  The slave’s eyes stayed downcast, but he nodded. “Does Missy know ’bout Celia an’ me?”

  “No.” Seth wondered why that was important. “I haven’t told her, and I doubt Master Luther or George would mention it.”

  Jeptha visibly relaxed. “If it be all right wit’ you, Mistah Brantley, suh, I’d ’ppreciate it if you didn’t tell her. No need for Missy to know.”

  Although Seth had no intention of revealing Jeptha’s situation to Adella and had successfully avoided it once before, he still wondered why it mattered to the slave. “Why don’t you want her to know?”

  For the first time since he’d entered the barn, Jeptha looked directly into Seth’s eyes. “Because I ashamed of it, Mistah Brantley. I ashamed, and I don’t want Missy to know. Please. Please don’t tell her.”

  The sheer panic in the other man’s eyes told Seth how important this was to him. “All right. I won’t tell her. But I don’t see what you have to be ashamed of. You are obeying what your master told you to do.”

  Jeptha shook his head slowly. “Don’t matter none if it be what Massa Luther say. God say it wrong. Celia an’ me don’t jump the broom or nothin’. An’ I has me a bad feelin’ she ain’t gonna be the only gal Massa want me to lie with.”

  Seth had never heard such honest words from a slave about the realities of living in bondage. Jeptha wasn’t an animal looking to breed with every female he could find, as Luther assumed. The same uncomfortable twinge he’d felt Sunday in the service crept over Seth, knowing he was responsible in some way. He may not have owned Jeptha, nor was it his decision to force Jeptha and Celia together, but his role as overseer made him just as guilty as Luther and George.

  “I could ask Master Luther to allow you to jump the broom with Celia.” He knew the offer wasn’t a solution, but it seemed better than nothing.

  Jeptha shook his head. “No, sir. Wouldn’t want you to do that.”

  “But isn’t that what’s bothering you? That you aren’t married to her.”

  “I don’t love Celia, Mistah Brantley. I don’t want ta jump the broom with a gal I don’t love.”

  Several moments ticked by with Seth sorting through the things he’d always believed about Negroes and what he’d learned the past few minutes. It forced him to see Jeptha not as a slave but as a man—a man not so different from himself, except for the color of his skin. How would Seth feel if he’d been forced to marry someone he didn’t love? Adella and her engagement to Brevard came to mind. In some ways, Luther Ellis was doing to his daughter exactly what he’d done to Jeptha.

  The realization made him sick.

  Turning his back on the slave, he led Chester to his stall. When he returned, Jeptha had just finished putting the bucket and rags away.

  “How is the mustang doing?” Seth almost referred to the horse as Freedom.

  “Real good.” Jeptha seemed relieved to talk about something else. “He takin’ to the bridle an’ rope. Won’t be long ’fore he ready to break.”

  They walked down the aisle to where Freedom stood groomed and untethered in his stall. He looked like an entirely different horse than the one Seth and Adella had seen only the week before. The horse eagerly came forward, and Jeptha let him nuzzle his hand. Seth wondered if Adella had snuck down to the barn lately with an apple tucked in her skirt pocket. No doubt Brevard would put an end to such activities once they married. The thought made him sad.

  “You ever break a horse?” Seth noted how the animal appeared to trust Jeptha as he stroked its powerful neck.

  The slave shook his head. “No suh. Mistah Haley al’ays hired a man to come break ’em.” He lifted his eyes to Seth. “But I be willin’ to learn.”

  Seth grinned. “You may not be so willing after Freedom bucks you off a dozen times.”

  Jeptha’s brow rose. “You know ’bout Missy namin’ him Freedom?”

  “She let it slip.” Seth shrugged. “I guess I did too. Let’s just keep the name between us, okay?”

  Serious eyes met his. “Wouldn’t ever say nothin’ to nobody that might bring trouble for Missy.”

  For some reason, the slave’s loyalty to Adella brought Seth a measure of comfort. He’d want to know she was taken care of when he left Rose Hill. Even if that meant marriage to Brevard.

  “If you’re serious about learning to break a horse, we have a lot of work to do.”

  Jeptha smiled. “I ready, suh.”

  “Fine.” Seth moved back down the aisle with Jeptha trailing behind. “We’ll start first thing in the morning. Monroe can keep watch on the field workers. It will take the better part of a day to get Freedom used to the saddle. Depending on how stubborn he is, it may take all week to get him used to a rider.”

  Later, as Seth rode back out to the fields on a new gelding, he grinned, thinking of the following day’s events. He might not know much about overseeing a cotton plantation, but he knew about horses. Breaking a wild horse was second nature to him. He’d trained more than a dozen to heed his command and had a reputation back home for never being bucked off.

  Glancing toward the big house in the distance, he blew out a breath. He wished women were as easy to manage as h
orses.

  Near the end of the day, after Seth began his headcount of the slaves, a lone horseman came toward him. Squinting beneath the brim of his hat to see who it was, ire filled him when he recognized Marshall Brevard. What the dandy was doing in the fields, he didn’t know, but it was safe to guess it couldn’t be good.

  His mount began to prance as Brevard’s mare drew close, but Seth kept the animal under control as he waited for the man.

  “I want a word with you in private, Brantley.” Marshall’s tone was as unfriendly as his eyes. He rode a short distance away, where the slaves returning to the quarter wouldn’t hear the conversation.

  Loathe to give the man any respect, Seth knew it wouldn’t do well to have every word of their exchange circulate through the quarter, so he nudged his horse forward. When he came abreast Brevard’s mount, Seth steadily met the man’s gaze without speaking.

  After a moment, Marshall smirked. “You think because your father is an old friend of Luther’s you have some sort of legitimate place here on Rose Hill. An overseer who takes his meals with the family and escorts the owner’s daughter to dinner.”

  Seth ignored the comments. “I would appreciate it if you would say your piece. I have work to do.”

  “Precisely my point.” His gaze traveled over the acres of cotton then back to Seth. “I am a landowner, Brantley. I am a rich and important man with connections in Austin and Washington. The woman I marry will never want for anything, nor will our children. The reality is, I am everything you will never be. Why, even the State of Texas saw you for what you are.”

  Though the jab stung, Seth didn’t let it show. “There are more important things in life than position and money.”

  “A laughable statement coming from a man who has neither. You have nothing to offer a woman. Certainly not a woman of Adella Rose’s station.” When Seth didn’t reply, Brevard smiled. “I believe you think yourself in love with her.”

  Fighting to keep his face devoid of reaction, Seth wondered if everyone suspected his feelings for her.

  “Hear this, Brantley.” Marshall’s face turned stony. “Your days on Rose Hill land are numbered. I have much influence over Luther. Once I am married to his daughter, I will make certain he understands your services are no longer necessary.”

  Seth leaned forward in the saddle. “Sounds like you want to get rid of me real bad. Almost as though you’re afraid of something.”

  Brevard looked Seth up and down, disdain practically dripping from his nose. “What could I possibly be afraid of?”

  “That she cares more for me than she does for you.”

  The gauntlet thrown, Seth waited for the reaction.

  It came swiftly. Marshall’s face turned scarlet and his fists clenched. “Consider this your one and only warning, Brantley,” he said between gritted teeth. “Stay away from Adella Rose. If I so much as see you look in her direction, you will regret it.”

  Seth watched the man ride away, feeling dread in the pit of his stomach.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  “Hold on, Jeptha!”

  Seth’s shout of encouragement brought Adella out from behind the barn where she lurked, desperate to watch the action in the corral, yet wanting to remain unseen. Seth stood a short distance away, leaning against the corral fence, his back to her and his eyes on Jeptha astride Freedom. If she stayed here, she could watch the excitement without attracting attention, which suited her just fine. She hadn’t spoken to Seth since Sunday, and she had no idea what to say when she did come face to face with him again. Her emotions were so mixed up, she didn’t think she could put together a coherent thought, let alone explain how much he’d hurt her.

  “Whoo-ee, ride ’em, boy,” Joseph called, her father’s old carriage driver grinning as he watched Jeptha hang on for dear life. Freedom kicked and galloped around the corral, stirring up a cloud of thick dust. The wild mares brought in with Freedom, who were penned nearby, whinnied and snorted, watching their leader fight against the saddle and rider.

  All morning, the shouts and wild bellows coming from the corral had tormented Adella. At first, she thought a horse was being tortured, its cries and screams traveling across the plantation grounds and up through her open bedroom window. But word soon swept through the servants that Jeptha and Mr. Brantley were breaking the mustang stallion. Feeling a kinship to both the horse and the slave, she hurried from the house at the first opportunity. Thankfully, after the midday meal, Papa and George took Marshall and the other guests target shooting on the east side of the property where the fields were fallow. They’d be gone for hours.

  Filled with fascination and more than a little fear, Adella watched as Freedom bucked and jerked, trying to unseat Jeptha from his place in the saddle. The whites of Jeptha’s wide eyes flashed by as the horse galloped around the corral, looking for all the world like the wild beast he was.

  “Magnificent,” she whispered. If she were a man, that is exactly where she’d want to be—astride that beautiful animal.

  “That’s it. Hold him steady,” Seth called.

  Suddenly, Freedom leaped off the ground, lifting all four hooves simultaneously. He arched his back, and then with a quick twist of his powerful body, spun around, causing Jeptha to lose his balance and his grip on the reins. Before he could right himself, Freedom’s back legs beat the air, sending Jeptha flying.

  Thud.

  He landed hard in the dirt.

  In one swift move, Seth was over the top rail and hurried to Jeptha’s motionless body. Joseph and the other slaves, who’d been shouting encouragement only moments before, now stood silent, watching with worried expressions. Freedom darted to the opposite side of the corral, still bucking the now empty saddle and dragging his lead.

  Adella ran to the fence. Lifting the hem of her skirt, she climbed onto the bottom rung and hoisted herself up so she could see. A breath of relief escaped when she saw Seth help Jeptha to a sitting position. “Is he hurt?”

  Seth looked over at her, a flash of surprise in his eyes. “He’s all right. Just got the wind knocked out of him.”

  She nodded. Their gaze held for a long moment before he turned back to the injured man. After another minute or so, Jeptha got to his feet, dusting himself off. Seth walked him over to the gate where she met them.

  “You could have killed yourself,” she said, making sure he was indeed all right. No blood or visible wounds were obvious, but a fall like that could have damaged something inside.

  With dirt smudged across his face, Jeptha grinned. “Nah, Missy. I too ornery.”

  But she noticed he kept his arms wrapped protectively around his middle and winced when he leaned against the fence post.

  Seth closed the gate behind Jeptha, remaining in the corral. “Take a rest while I get him calmed down. You stayed on longer that time. Next time will be better.”

  “Next time?” Adella looked from one man to the other. “He can’t ride again. He’s injured.”

  The men locked eyes, some silent message going between them before Seth’s attention returned to her. “I am sure we appreciate your concern, Miss Ellis, but I know what I’m doing. Freedom needs to understand he can’t buck off his rider and get away with it.”

  Adella frowned. “It is not the horse I am concerned with, Mr. Brantley. Jeptha’s hurt.” She turned to him for confirmation. “Aren’t you?”

  With indecision in his eyes, Jeptha glanced from her to Seth and back. “I shore I’ll be fine, Missy Ellis. I wants to ride Free— uh, that mustang. Cain’t let him get the best of me, now can I?”

  His grin didn’t fool her. She poked him in the ribs, causing him to recoil. Satisfied, she turned to Seth. “See? I think he has a broken rib. Maybe several.”

  Retracing his steps, Seth opened the gate, closed it behind him, and walked over to Jeptha. Appearing to know what he was doing, he placed his hands on the slave’s rib cage, giving gentle pushes here and there. With each one, Jeptha grimaced, though he didn’t cry out.

/>   Heaving a sigh, he stepped back. “She might be right.” His tone said he wished it weren’t true.

  “I fine, Mistah Brantley, suh.” When he saw the stern look on Adella’s face, Jeptha added, “Maybe just a bit bruised. Nothin’ bad wrong.”

  Adella waited for Seth’s reply. If she had to, she’d use her position as Luther Ellis’ daughter to keep Jeptha from getting back on that wild animal.

  Seth rubbed his jaw in thought. “I’ve had bruised and broken ribs before. The last place you need to be is on that horse.” He shook his head. “But I don’t like putting Free—” he briefly glanced at Adella, “the horse in his stall after he’s bucked you off. He’ll think he won.”

  “Then I reckon you need to finish the job, suh,” Jeptha said with respect and admiration in his voice.

  After a moment, Seth gave a half smile. “You did real good today. I would hate for all your hard work to go to waste.”

  Jeptha accepted the praise with a nod.

  Without glancing at her, Seth returned to the corral, motioning for Joseph and the others. They climbed the fence, entered the arena, and spread out. Adella watched the four men slowly circle Freedom, who’d finally settled down and stood as far away from them as possible. As Seth drew close, the animal searched for an escape, trying to dart between the men. But Seth was too quick. He grabbed the reins and soon had the horse under control.

  “He real good with hosses.” Jeptha’s voice was low and almost reverent as he watched Seth speak to the animal. “Knows things I ain’t nevah heard.”

  Adella glanced at Jeptha, momentarily forgetting all about Freedom and Seth. “Where have you been? I haven’t seen you in days. When you didn’t come to the party, I thought you might be sick.”