The Planter's Daughter

by Michelle Shocklee

  With no warning, Seth jerked his hat from his head and threw it against the stall, startling Freedom. The horse nickered and backed away.

  “Don’t you see that your father is using the only weapon he has to make you do his bidding?” Seth’s irate voice echoed in the cavernous barn. “So you marry Brevard. What’s to prevent Luther from selling the slaves afterward? After it is too late for you and me?”

  Adella’s chin trembled. “He promised,” she said, realizing how feeble such a defense sounded in the face of all her father had done.

  Seth stared at her as though she were insane. “And you believe him?”

  For the first time since she’d agreed to Papa’s and Marshall’s demands, she began to have doubts. “I don’t know what to believe. Papa promised he wouldn’t sell them if I marry Marshall, but on the way here he told me terrible things. Did you know he bought Celia to give to Jeptha? He wants her to have babies. Boy babies. So he won’t have to buy more slaves.”

  She expected Seth to appear surprised, but he didn’t.

  “You knew?”

  He nodded. “Yes. He told me after he purchased her what he planned. I have never been opposed to slavery, Adella, but some things just aren’t right. Breeding slaves is one of them. Fathering slaves is another.”

  Adella stilled, shocked at the implications Seth made with that statement. “Are you accusing Papa of … of …?” Heat rushed to her face, and she couldn’t utter the awful words.

  “I don’t know about your father, but I do know for a fact George has fathered at least one child with a slave.”

  The charge hung in the air between them. It couldn’t be true. George was her brother, after all. Mama had raised them to be God-fearing, morally upstanding people. To allege the kind of behavior Seth insinuated was like a slap in Mama’s face.

  Indignant, Adella lifted her chin. She had to defend her family, even against Seth. “I realize you are angry with Papa, but to accuse George of something so heinous is uncalled for. He is no saint, but I cannot believe he would do what you have accused him of doing. Why, he and Natalie just celebrated their wedding. “

  “You want proof?” Seth snatched his hat off the ground. “Fine. I will give you proof.”

  In the next breath, he took her by the arm and hauled her toward the door.

  “You’re hurting me, Seth.” Tears sprang to her eyes, more from their argument than from the pain. When she tried to get away, his grip only tightened on her arm. “Where are you taking me? Please, Seth. Stop this. You’re scaring me.”

  But he remained mute and continued to lead her down the cart path until they reached the quarter. Passing several cabins, he came to a stop in front of the one where Mammy lived. The door stood open, and two tiny dirt-smudged faces peered out at them. The distinct sound of a newborn baby came from within.

  “What are we doing here?” she said, her voice just above a whisper.

  Seth finally turned to her. “Giving you proof.” His voice, hard and sure, brooked no argument.

  With wide eyes, she stared at him. Then, ever so slowly, she turned toward the cabin. The baby’s cries had quieted, replaced by the low murmur of Mammy’s and another voice in conversation. Propelled by an unseen hand, Adella cautiously made her way into the dimly lit cabin.

  Mammy glanced up from her place beside the crude bed, surprise on her face. “Missy, what you’s doin’ heah?” She shot a look down to the occupant in the rumpled covers.

  Lucy lay slightly propped up, with her hair wild and loose from her kerchief, and her gown pulled down to partially expose one breast. Her eyes rounded with fear, and she looked from Mammy to Adella and back. Then she looked down at the tiny babe asleep in her arms. With protective instincts, the new mother clutched the bundle closer to her before returning her wary gaze to Adella.

  Time seemed to stand still while Adella fought to take in what she was seeing. Seth’s accusation of George fathering a child was ridiculous, yet he’d brought her to this cabin to offer her proof it was true.

  Her eyes drifted down from Lucy’s golden brown face to the face of her baby.

  The infant’s skin was nearly as white as her own.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  Seth stood in the doorway to the small cabin. He hated that he’d done this to Adella, but she had to know the truth. She had to know the kind of men her father and brother were. The kind of man Marshall Brevard might be, too. Men who didn’t blink when it came to using others for their own gain.

  “How can this be?” Adella whispered, her hands pressed against her breast.

  “Now, Missy, whatever you thinks goin’ on heah, just never you mind it.” Mammy came to Adella’s side. “You’s get on back to da house now. You’s all tuckered out, I ’spect.” The old woman tried to steer Adella toward the door, but she wouldn’t budge.

  “No.” She moved to the edge of the bed with determined steps. Lucy stared up at her, chin trembling. “Who is the father of your child, Lucy?”

  Lucy’s eyes darted to Mammy, who shook her head. The young slave woman returned her gaze to Adella. “I dunno, Missy.” She cowered against the pillow.

  But Adella wasn’t fooled. “Yes, you do, Lucy. Tell me the truth. I am not going to hurt you or the baby. Who is the father?”

  After a long pause, Lucy’s face crumpled. “It yo’ brother, Missy. Massa George be da father o’ dis little chile.”

  The room grew still. Only the sound of the baby stirring in Lucy’s arms interrupted the silence. Finally, the little one let out a tiny wail.

  “Shhh.” Lucy jostled the bundle, her fearful eyes going from the child to Adella.

  With her back to him, Seth couldn’t see Adella’s face. But he could imagine the thoughts whirling through her mind. That her own brother had fathered this child meant it was part of her bloodline.

  “Is it a boy or a girl?” she finally asked, her voice strained.

  “It be a girl, Missy.” A faint smile came to Lucy’s lips. “I name her Mara. Ol’ Moses say it mean bitter.” She looked down at the babe, who peacefully slept again. “But I think o’ her as bittersweet. Don’t much care for da way she come to me, but I gonna love her anyhows.”

  After a long moment, Adella’s tense shoulders sagged. She turned then to look at Seth. When their eyes met in the dim light, he knew she accepted the truth. The child was George’s. He offered a small nod, simply as a way of saying he understood her pain.

  “May I hold her?” she asked softly when she returned her attention to Lucy.

  Hesitating just a moment, Lucy gathered the baby’s rough blanket around her and held up the precious bundle.

  Taking great care, Adella accepted the babe and nestled it against her breast, staring into the wee face. With her free hand, she wiped a tear that trailed down her own cheek. Seth crossed the space that separated them and put his arm around her waist. She needed his support now more than ever.

  “Hello, Mara.” She touched the soft skin of the baby’s cheek with the tip of her finger. “I’m your Aunt Adella.”

  Seth tightened his grip on her, knowing how difficult it was for her to admit the truth.

  When Adella eventually passed the baby back to Lucy, their eyes met. “I will see that you have extra rations.” She turned to Seth. “I don’t want Lucy working in the fields any longer. When the baby is old enough to stay with Mammy, Lucy is to be assigned to the weaving house.”

  Surprised by the authority in her voice, Seth’s brow raised. “Yes, ma’am.”

  His response brought a hint of a smile to her lips. With one last glance at the sleeping babe, she bid the two slave women good-bye and led the way outside into the fading sunlight. They walked a short distance from the quarter in silence before she came to a stop beneath the branches of a huge oak. Inhaling a deep breath, Adella closed her eyes.

  “Are you all right?” Seth worried she might collapse.

  When she opened her eyes again, he expected to see tears, but he was wrong.
<
br />   “Yes, I’m fine. In fact,” she said, with a slight laugh, “I am better than fine. For the first time in weeks, I feel like I am in control of my life once again.”

  Confused but thrilled she wasn’t falling apart, Seth smiled. “And when did this come about? Because the last time I looked, you were meeting your niece born to a Rose Hill slave.”

  She nodded, sobering. “Yes, it is shameful what George has done. I cannot imagine what poor Natalie will do if she ever finds out.” A look of resolve replaced the concern in her eyes. “But when I looked into Mara’s tiny face, knowing she has Ellis blood flowing through her veins, I realized I could not allow Papa and George to continue using people and ruining lives at their whim. They may own the slaves because manmade laws give them that right, but I know God does not look down on this with favor.”

  It was all Seth could do to keep from capturing her in his arms right there in broad daylight. “You amaze me, Adella Rose Ellis.” He loved her more than ever.

  That love was mirrored in her blue eyes when she gazed at him. “Do you forgive me for being weak and letting Papa and Marshall convince me there was no other choice?”

  Risking the chance someone might see, Seth caressed her soft cheek. “There is nothing to forgive, my love.”

  “Let’s go tell Papa I won’t be marrying Marshall. He won’t be pleased, but it cannot be helped.” Her brow puckered into a frown. “I fear what he will do, especially to the slaves, but I won’t allow him to take away my only chance at happiness with his threats and bullying.”

  As much as Seth wanted to do that very thing, it didn’t seem the best plan. “I don’t think we should tell him just yet.”

  “Why not? I want us to be married right away, Seth.”

  Her anxiousness warmed his blood, and he ached to plant a kiss on her upturned mouth. “As do I, but we need to think this through.”

  “Well, we haven’t much time.” She frowned. “Marshall will arrive a week from tomorrow. We are to be married here at Rose Hill a few days later.”

  “One week then,” he said, his mind already whirling, working to come up with a solution.

  “If only there was some way the slaves could get away.” She glanced back to the quarter. “They will be the ones Papa will punish when I refuse to marry Marshall.”

  Knowing she was right, Seth mulled over the problem. He had no doubt Luther would follow through with his threat to sell the slaves, especially the ones favored by his rebellious daughter. Seth had no money to buy the slaves himself, not that Luther would sell them to him anyway. No, in Luther’s anger at Adella’s betrayal, he would exact as much pain on Jeptha and the others as he possibly could. And that meant taking them to the market and letting fate fall where it may. It was therefore up to Seth to find a way to help the slaves and still whisk Adella away from Rose Hill forever.

  An idea began to take root in Seth’s mind—a crazy idea, but one that just might work. Reaching for Adella’s hand, he kissed her knuckles.

  “How would you feel about being married to an outlaw?”

  “Jeptha?”

  Seth glanced from side to side, making sure no one watched him sidle up to the stinking shed. The sliver of moon barely put out enough light to see his hand in front of his face, but still, he couldn’t take any chances on being caught now that Luther had returned.

  “Jeptha!” he said a little louder, although he kept his voice low enough that it wouldn’t travel to the quarter nearby. Everyone should be asleep by now, but one could never be sure who might be up and about.

  “Mistah Brantley, suh? What you’s doin’ here in the dark?”

  Seth shushed him. “Keep your voice down. We don’t want the entire plantation to wake up.”

  A soft chuckle came from the opposite side of the wall. “I reckon not if it ain’t mornin’. Didn’t think I’d been asleep that long.”

  Cool night air made Seth aware he was sweating. Whether from nerves or the coat he’d worn, he wasn’t sure. With the back of his hand, he mopped his brow, giving one last look toward the quarter. “I have something for you,” he said, reaching into his coat for the large burlap-wrapped bundle he’d tucked there on his way out of the kitchen earlier.

  He grinned, trying to imagine what Aunt Lu would say when she discovered the leftover meat pie from dinner was missing. Along with a thick hunk of cheese, some ham, and two of Freedom’s apples.

  “What you got, Mistah Brantley?” Jeptha said, his voice closer and no longer muffled by the wall. Seth guessed his face was in the hole, but he couldn’t see him.

  “First, I need you to give me your word you won’t tell a soul about this. Not even Celia.”

  Jeptha snorted. “That gal don’t give a lick ’bout me. She done found her a new man, from what I hear.”

  That bit of news surprised Seth since he hadn’t heard about it, but it would certainly work in their favor if Celia were occupied. He briefly wondered who had risked punishment to sneak bits of information to Jeptha. “Good,” he said. “But I still need you to give me your word.”

  “I won’t tell no one that you came to see me tonight, not that anybody care.”

  Putting his trust in the black man didn’t come easily to Seth, but he didn’t have a choice. “Here. Take this,” he said, stuffing the items through the hole.

  He felt Jeptha’s hands receive the food. “I … I don’t unde’stand, Mistah Brantley. Why you’s givin’ me all this food? Massa Luther take the whup to my back if he find out I has this.”

  “He won’t find out as long as you don’t tell anyone about this.” Looking back over his shoulder, Seth lowered his voice even further. “Don’t eat it all at once. Your stomach isn’t used to getting that much food. It will make you sick, and you’ll vomit it up. Eat it nice and slow. We need you to gain your strength.”

  The other side of the shed was silent for a good long time. Finally, Jeptha said, “We? Who’s we?”

  Taking a deep breath, praying his trust was not misplaced, he plunged forward. “Missy Ellis is in trouble. Master Luther is forcing her to marry Brevard to save the plantation from financial ruin. He’s threatened to sell all the slaves, starting with you, if she doesn’t marry him.”

  He heard Jeptha blow out a breath. “Guess I done for. Why you bring me this here food? So I be nice an’ fat when I get to that market down Gav’ston way?”

  “No, of course not,” Seth said, frustrated the other man would even think that. “Missy Ellis and I plan to run away together and marry. We want to take you with us.”

  An owl hooted from a nearby tree, but Jeptha remained silent.

  “Did you hear what I said? We want you to go with us. Maybe some of the others. You can head down to Mexico or even out West.”

  “You ain’t funnin’ with me, are you, Mistah Brantley, suh? So’s I’ll agree to somethin’ then get a whuppin’ or somethin’ worse for plannin’ to escape?”

  The other man’s suspicion was justified. “No, Jeptha. If Missy Ellis could come down here, she would tell you this herself. But we only have one week to get everything ready. You won’t make it if we don’t get some food into you and build up your strength.”

  “You’s serious, ain’t you?”

  “Completely.”

  The nightly chorus of crickets, toads, and whippoorwills filled the air while Seth told Jeptha about the plan. “I haven’t worked out all the details, but you will need to be ready to travel by next week. Adella and I will take care of gathering provisions. I figure we’ll start off together, but we might need to split up eventually, so we’ll need to make sure you have enough to get you to Mexico.”

  Silence came from the shed again. For a moment, Seth wondered if Jeptha had fallen asleep.

  “I don’t know what to say, Mistah Brantley,” he finally said. “I dreamed ’bout going to ol’ Mexico ever since a Negro passed through here talkin’ ’bout it. Massa Luther sold him right quick so’s he wouldn’t infect the rest of us with his lies, is what Massa
Luther say. But I know’d that boy tellin’ us the truth. Says we’s free in Mexico.” He paused. “More than anything, Mistah Brantley,” he continued, his voice cracking with emotion. “More than anything, I wants to be free.”

  Later, when Seth walked away from the shed toward his own cabin, he couldn’t help but shake his head at the irony of it all.

  A runaway slave desperate for freedom stole his career and nearly ended his life.

  Now he desperately wanted to free this slave who had become his friend.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  Adella paced in front of the parlor window, wringing a lace handkerchief and wondering what Seth had accomplished in the two days since they’d last spoken. He’d planned to tell Jeptha about their scheme and begin gathering the supplies they would need. She’d been poised to do her part as well, but George and Natalie returned home from their honeymoon trip several days earlier than expected, sending the house into an uproar. Natalie, doing her best to fulfill her role as mistress of the manor, had everyone scurrying here, there, and everywhere, changing this or rearranging that. And if she wasn’t barking orders at the servants, she monopolized Adella’s time by regaling her with tales of the gorgeous hotels and plantations they’d stayed at while traveling.

  “Really, Adella Rose, you and Marshall simply must visit the Royal Hotel in New Orleans,” Natalie said from her place on the settee, where she thumbed through yet more wallpaper samples. She held one up, tilted her head as though envisioning it on the parlor wall, then tossed it aside. “They have the most stunning chandelier in the foyer, with gas lights, mind you. Senator Slidell and his lovely wife took us to dinner there, twice. George ordered champagne, and the Senator didn’t blink an eye. Can you imagine?”

  Listening to Natalie prattle on about their trip, knowing George had been fully aware of Papa’s financial situation and his plan to marry off Adella in order to save them from bankruptcy, she nearly growled in answer. “Can I imagine George letting someone else pick up the bill for his own extravagance? Why yes, Natalie, dear, I can. My brother has become very adept at using people for his own gain.”