The Planter's Daughter

by Michelle Shocklee

  Adella’s heart drummed against her ribs. He couldn’t force her to marry Marshall, but the look of triumph in his eyes sent a wave of apprehension racing through her veins. “What measures?”

  His face hardened. “You leave me no choice. If I am to lose the plantation, I will have no need for workers. Therefore, I will sell the slaves, one by one, starting with Jeptha.”

  For a moment, Adella couldn’t breathe. Surely he didn’t mean it.

  “He is young and healthy and will fetch a good price at the market in New O’leans. Sugar cane growers are always in need of a strong back.” Papa’s eyes narrowed on her. “After I sell Jeptha, I will sell Lusanne, then Carolina. Each day that you ignore your responsibilities as my daughter, I will sell off a slave.” His brow raised in thought. “Of course, Negroes don’t last long in the cane fields. The brutal work breaks them fairly quickly, from what I hear, especially old women and children.” He chuckled. “Those cane plantations go through slaves faster than the traders can keep the markets stocked.”

  Marshall smirked as though Papa had told a joke.

  With tears stinging her eyes, Adella stared at Papa. In her heart, she knew he was not making idle threats. He would do exactly as he said. Jeptha, Aunt Lu, and the others could suffer untold misery if she refused to marry Marshall. Though she’d never been to a slave auction, she envisioned the horror of being bought and sold like livestock, not knowing the kind of person who purchased you or how you would be treated. To know that she would be responsible for her friends enduring such an experience when she herself would be safely married to Seth, was something she could not bear.

  Defeat came with her next breath, even as Papa’s vile threat hung in the air. She sagged with the sudden loss of all her hopes and dreams. She couldn’t marry Seth. Not if it meant putting Jeptha and the others in jeopardy. Tears spilled down her cheeks.

  “I will have your decision.” The gleam in Papa’s eyes revealed he already knew her answer.

  Forcing the words to her lips, Adella closed her eyes. “I will marry Marshall.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  From the far north section of cotton fields, Seth watched Luther’s carriage enter Rose Hill land and travel up the long tree-lined lane to the house. He’d chosen this field to oversee today for the very purpose of knowing the moment the carriage returned from Le Beau. Though the conveyance was little more than a brown spot from his distant vantage point, thus preventing him from making out the occupants through the open windows, relief surged through him.

  Adella was home.

  More than anything, he wanted to race Chester across the acres of plants that separated him from the woman he loved. It was all he could do to stay put, supervising the daily drudgery of slaves hoeing one row after another, they unaware of the rush of elation that enveloped him. If they noticed their master was home, they didn’t make it known. No one stopped to look toward the east but instead continued tilling the dirt, removing tiny weeds that, if left growing, would fast overtake the money-producing cotton.

  Seth sat back in the saddle, the tension he’d felt all morning easing from his body. From the moment Adella left with her father to visit Brevard’s home, he’d lived for this day. He’d done nothing but think of what he would say to Luther the moment they returned in order to claim Adella for his own. There wasn’t anything the older man could say that would keep him from marrying her. He knew Luther would be angry. The possibility of his disowning Adella had crossed Seth’s mind more than once. But one would hope Luther’s long-standing friendship with Seth’s family might soften the blow of her breaking the engagement to Brevard.

  With his back to the afternoon sun, he watched the carriage make the final turn in the lane and disappear beyond the trees, taking them on to the house. He would have to wait until after the evening meal before he could see Adella. He had work to do, and she was no doubt tired from the long day of traveling. But the moment they were alone, nothing would stop him from taking her in his arms and holding her the way he’d longed to since the day she left.

  Returning his attention to the workers, he touched the scrap of paper folded in his shirt pocket. On it, he’d calculated how much Luther owed him in salary, and although the sum was not much, added to the bit he’d saved from his Ranger days, it would give him and Adella a start. And if what Pa said about their neighbors back home wanting Seth’s talents was true, he might be able to increase the savings until they had enough to travel to Oregon.

  Oregon.

  The very word made him smile.

  It would be too late in the season to head west if he needed to work to save more money. With all the mountain ranges they had to cross filling with snow by early fall, it wouldn’t be wise to start their journey until next spring. But he guessed it would only be a short nine or so months before he and Adella could pack up their belongings and head off into their new life on the frontier. Until then, he was certain Pa and Ma would welcome them to stay on the farm.

  “Mistah Brantley! Mistah Brantley! Hurry!”

  Brought out of his reverie by the cry of alarm, he turned in the saddle to find a cluster of slaves some distance away. One of the women—it looked like Oliver’s mother, Millie—stood apart, waving frantically at him.

  Kicking Chester into motion, he quickly came upon the group.

  “Lucy havin’ her baby, Mistah Brantley! Right now!” Millie said, pointing to the young woman kneeling on the ground, surrounded by the others.

  As though she needed to verify the validity of Millie’s words, Lucy doubled over and let out an anguished cry. Her hands gripped her swollen belly, and Seth saw her slight body shudder with pain.

  Unsure what to do, he glanced back in the direction of the house. It was too far for the pregnant woman to walk to the quarter, and he couldn’t let her deliver the child here in the field, despite knowing that other plantation overseers would do just that. This baby was George’s child, after all, whether he acknowledged it or not.

  “Help me get her on my horse,” he said to several of the men standing nearby.

  Screaming in pain, Lucy fought the men as they took her by the arms and hauled her up none too gently. Despite her large belly, the men easily hoisted her into Seth’s waiting arms. When she looked at him, he saw terror in her eyes.

  “I’m going to take you to Mammy. She’ll know what to do.”

  Whether his words comforted her or not, he couldn’t tell. She squeezed her eyes closed and clutched her belly. “Hurry, suh,” she breathed.

  He didn’t need to be told twice. Holding the young woman with one arm, he pushed Chester into a gallop. Not caring that the horse’s hooves tore up cotton plants as they sped across one field after another, Seth sent up a silent prayer, asking God to please keep him from dropping the woman in their frantic flight.

  It seemed forever, but finally, the quarter came into view. Mammy stood outside, hanging freshly laundered clothes on a line tied between two trees. Several naked youngsters played nearby. She looked up in surprise as Seth charged toward her.

  “Mammy, Lucy is having her baby!” he shouted just before he pulled back on the reins. Chester skidded to a stop, sending a cloud of dust into the air.

  “Lawd have mercy, I thought you’s gonna run me over.” Mammy put her hand to her ample breast, her fright evident on her wrinkled face. One of the toddlers began to wail and ran to Mammy, clinging to her skirt, while the others stared wide-eyed at the big horse. “Why you’s comin’ in here like da world on fire, Mistah Brantley? Womens been havin’ babies since da beginnin’ o’ time. Ain’t nothin’ to yell ’bout, scarin’ ever’body.”

  Ignoring the old woman’s reprimand, Seth swung out of the saddle. Lucy moaned as he lifted her into his arms. “Where should I put her?”

  Mammy looked puzzled. Finally, she motioned to the ground. “You can jest put her down, Mistah Brantley. I take her on in to da cabin.”

  Nodding, he set the young slave on the ground, but she immediately cr
umpled into a moaning heap. Alarmed, he looked at Mammy for help, but she waved him off.

  “Go on, now, Mistah Brantley. I done delivered dozens a’ chillens. Lucy heah ain’t nothin’ special.” She gave him a pointed look. “Neither is her young’un.”

  With that, Mammy walked over to Lucy, coaxed her to her feet, and disappeared with her into the closest cabin. The gaggle of youngsters stayed outside and continued to stare at Seth.

  Unsure what to do next—should he wait to see that Lucy was safely delivered of her child, Luther’s grandchild?—Seth glanced at Chester. The horse’s sides still heaved from their race to the quarter, and he needed a long drink of water before heading back into the fields. Perhaps by then the baby would have made its appearance. With one last glance toward the closed cabin door, he took hold of the lead and walked the animal toward the barn.

  Adella breathed in the musty scent of manure and hay, listening to the sound of Freedom munching his apple. She and Papa had only been home a few minutes, but she’d needed the solitude of the barn to gather her thoughts before facing anyone. The entire journey home from Le Beau had been filled with Papa’s plans for Rose Hill. He acted as though money were not an issue and spoke more freely than he’d ever done about his ideas to increase the plantation’s profits.

  “With Marshall as my son-in-law, those bankers will think twice about denying me a loan, you mark my words. We’ll be able to plant the acreage we purchased last fall and acquire even more land. ’Course that will mean buying more slaves.” He smirked. “I would guess that yellow gal I bought for Jeptha is carrying his seed by now. It would be a shame if she turns out a girl child. I didn’t go to all that expense and trouble for another house servant.”

  The disbelief Adella felt upon hearing his declaration still unnerved her as she remembered the conversation.

  “You bought Celia for Jeptha? Just so they would have children?”

  Papa nodded. “Yes. That is the reality of owning a plantation the size of Rose Hill. We need strong, capable slaves to work it. It would be cost-effective to raise our own, don’t you agree? To get the best product, however, one can’t leave them to their own carnal instincts. Making sure Jeptha mated with the right gal was imperative.” Seeing her shock, he huffed. “It is high time you started thinking like the wife of a plantation owner instead of some spoiled child who believes the slaves are her friends.”

  “Some of them are my friends,” she’d argued. In fact, she’d wanted to say, some were dearer to her than her own family members. But she’d thought better of blurting out such a thing to her father, when the past two days had clearly proven he cared nothing for her, or anyone else, for that matter.

  “Marshall won’t tolerate you mollycoddling his slaves the way you have mine. He uses the whip more than we do. As soon as I get rid of Brantley, I will hire a new overseer who is not afraid to discipline. Marshall has someone in mind he’ll recommend.”

  It made sense that Papa wouldn’t keep Seth on as overseer, but for some reason, she’d hoped he would be here when she came for visits after she married Marshall. That it would be painful to see him was something she’d accepted, yet that pain would be worth enduring if she could but see him and hear his voice. Now, even that hope had been snatched away by Papa.

  Stroking Freedom’s silky mane, she couldn’t help but smile despite her heartache. “Jeptha has certainly done a good job with you. Remember when you wouldn’t let me come near?”

  The horse continued to munch, never flinching when she moved her hand to pat his strong neck. He was no longer the skittish creature he’d been when he first came to Rose Hill. With hard work and persistence, Jeptha had managed to break the wild streak in the animal. She’d heard Papa tell Marshall he intended to use Freedom as a stud, hoping to strengthen the bloodline of the plantation’s horseflesh for profit.

  She heaved a sigh.

  No one escaped being exploited by Papa, it seemed. She’d never thought she and a horse would have so much in common, but just as they’d broken Freedom and forced him to do their bidding, Papa had broken her. She’d bowed to his will despite the desperate desire to run away. At least she’d won the battle against him when he and Marshall insisted the wedding take place immediately. With more fortitude than she knew she possessed, she’d steadfastly refused to have her wedding at Le Beau. Finally conceding, Marshall agreed to come to Rose Hill in a week’s time. By then she would have her belongings packed, although there would be no time to have her trousseau sewn. No matter. She wasn’t the excited bride like Natalie. She’d just as soon wear black the rest of her days since she was indeed in mourning. Mourning the life she would never have with Seth.

  Leaning her forehead against the cool wooden stall, she shook off the despair that threatened to overtake her. She needed to focus on the good that would come from her marriage to Marshall, the most important being that Jeptha and the others would be safe. She’d made Papa promise he would never sell them if she went through with this, and he’d given his word. Despite the pain he’d caused her, she believed he would keep his promise. It also brought her a measure of comfort to know her sacrifice would benefit her family for generations to come. Rose Hill would remain theirs, with George inheriting it eventually. To know that his children would one day live on the land she loved helped soften the deep feeling of loss that gripped her heart.

  A noise behind her drew her attention. She gasped when she saw him.

  “Seth!”

  The smile that filled his face brought tears to her eyes. He was so handsome, so dear. How could she face life without him by her side?

  “I assume those are tears of happiness at seeing me,” he joked.

  She could only stare at him. Though she’d rehearsed what she intended to say, words refused to come now.

  A slight frown puckered his brow. “You don’t look well.” He closed the gap between them and touched her cheek. “Adella? What’s wrong?”

  Involuntarily, she leaned into his hand. “Oh, Seth.” Tears spilled onto her cheeks. How could she tell him that everything was wrong?

  Concern washed over his features, and he tipped her chin, giving her nowhere else to look but into his hazel eyes. “Tell me what’s going on, Adella Rose.”

  Knowing now was not the time or place to tell him about Papa’s financial debacle, the agreement he and Marshall had come to, and Papa’s threat to sell the slaves, Adella forced a smile to her trembling lips.

  “I am just happy to see you,” she said, her voice shaky with emotion.

  His thumb caressed her cheek, sending warm tingles up her spine. “I have missed you.”

  He chuckled. “I have been going mad, imagining all sorts of terrible things. Knowing Brevard would do his best to occupy your attention nearly drove me insane. I almost talked myself into riding to Le Beau a few days ago. If Aunt Lu hadn’t sprained her ankle and had the house in an uproar, I would have.”

  When she didn’t smile at his teasing, he grew serious. “Something is wrong. I can see it in your eyes. Tell me. Is it Brevard? Did he take advantage of you?” His anger mounted. “I will kill him if he laid a hand on you.”

  With tears running down her face, Adella shook her head. “No, no, Seth. Nothing like that happened.” Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath before meeting his gaze again. “There is so much to tell you, but not here. Not now.”

  A deep frown settled on his face. “Adella Rose, what is this about? You must tell me.”

  “I …” Words failed her. She implored him with her eyes to understand.

  “Adella, please.” He gripped her arms. “You’re scaring me.”

  With a pang of deep loss, as one letting something of rare beauty escape, she took a step away from him. “I can’t marry you, Seth,” she whispered, her whole body shaking with emotion.

  A horse whinnied from a nearby stall in the stillness of the barn.

  Seth stared at her, confusion and hurt shining in his eyes. “What do you mean, you can’t marry
me? Of course you can, Adella Rose. Whatever your father and Brevard said to convince you otherwise is not the truth. You and I are in love. Your father will understand when we tell him.”

  Without meeting his gaze, she shook her head. “No, Seth. I have to marry Marshall. We will lose Rose Hill and all the slaves if I don’t.”

  “You aren’t making any sense,” he said, anger raising his voice. “What do Rose Hill and the slaves have to do with anything? With us? You don’t own them. They aren’t yours to lose.”

  “Papa is in terrible financial trouble, Seth.” She wrapped her arms around her waist, the ache in her heart making it difficult to breathe. “He and Marshall have come to a business agreement that will allow Papa to keep Rose Hill.”

  It took a moment, but Seth’s face suddenly grew stony. “Let me guess. You are part of that agreement.”

  Ashamed to admit she’d been used in such a way by her own father, she ducked her head. “Yes.”

  “I don’t believe it.” Seth’s fists clenched. “They are lying in order to get you to marry that buffoon. I refuse to believe the mighty Luther Ellis is in such financial ruin that only his daughter’s marriage can save him. Are you so naïve that you can’t see that?”

  His accusing tone hurt. “It is true, Seth. I saw the document they both signed, giving Marshall a portion of Rose Hill profits for the next ten years. They’re waiting for George to return and sign the papers before everything is finalized.”

  She watched the play of emotions cross his face. Anger. Disbelief. Frustration.

  “Even if that is all true,” he said, his voice clipped, his jaw tight, “it doesn’t mean you have to marry Brevard. We can work something out to help your father. I won’t take a salary, and my father would help, I’m certain.”

  Hopelessness settled in her heart. “It is not just Rose Hill in jeopardy, Seth.” She bit her lip to keep it from trembling. “Papa threatened to sell the slaves if I don’t marry Marshall. He will start with Jeptha and then Aunt Lu and Carolina. I … I can’t let them go through that. Don’t you see? I would be responsible for their misery.”