A Guardian of Slaves

by Naomi Finley

  I swallowed hard and stepped back. Silent tears spilled from me.

  Ben’s eyes widened, and his expression grew distressed. He held up a hand. “I didn’t mean to come off so harsh. We don’t know who these men are, and if they choose to come after Jones and me, I can’t risk you being in the way. If something were to happen to you…” The gun dropped to his side.

  His words did nothing to soothe my worry. I whisked the tears off my face. “As you say, Uncle,” I said, my own voice hard. I glowered at him.

  “Willow…I…” His words withered on his tongue. A grimace contorted his face, and his gaze shifted downward.

  I felt a pang of remorse. He didn’t deserve to be shunned because he reminded me of my father. Nor because fear of losing another person I loved was a constant in my life. I placed a hand on his arm. “Please forgive me. I’ll take care of things here until you return.”

  His eyes captured mine. The pain I read in his eyes thickened my throat. Building a relationship with a daughter he didn’t know couldn’t be any easier on him than it was on me.

  He lifted a hand and cupped the back of my head, bringing my forehead to meet his lips. Stepping back, he rested his hands on my arms. “I love you, daughter. We’ll sort this out together.”

  “Be careful.”

  “I promise.” He tucked the revolver into his waistband and strode toward the doorway, where he paused and turned back to me. A haunting softness shone in his eyes. “I’m not my brother.”

  “I know,” I whispered.

  He nodded and left.

  I placed a hand against the wall to steady myself.

  Please watch over him.

  AFTER BEN PAID THE CONSTABLE a visit, patrols on the roads sent the masked men into hiding, and for the time being, the folks of Charleston and surrounding areas breathed easier.

  Christmas arrived, and for the first time in years, Livingston wouldn’t be hosting its annual ball. Though I’d removed the mourning attire from my wardrobe, I continued to use my father’s death as a way to get out of social engagements. When Josephine’s family sent an invitation inviting us to the Christmas banquet at their plantation, I wanted to decline, and Whitney concurred, but at Ben’s insistence, we accepted.

  Tonight I sat in our best carriage on the way to the party. Next to me, Ben’s legs were lost in a sea of silver silk making up my gown. Whitney, the model fashion plate, sat across from us. Her ivory gown was accented with matching rosebuds that pulled up a layer from the hem, revealing an underlayer of beautiful lace. She’d donned a green cape over the dress.

  The glow of lights on Josephine’s family’s plantation came into view, and the driver turned up the lane leading to the front of the home. Soon we came to a stop, and the carriage door opened.

  As we stepped outside, the music from the band drifted from inside. I’d visited a time or two when I was younger, but now the white house with its black shutters was luminous in the abundance of lanterns that lined the path to the front steps. Holly and greenery wrapped the railings of the front veranda.

  Mr. and Mrs. Abbotts, Josephine’s parents, stood just inside the front doors, greeting their guests as they arrived. After an exchange of pleasantries, Mr. Abbotts guided Ben off to introduce him to some other gentlemen. To folks, the mystery around the appearance of the other Hendricks brother was a topic of conversation, and like my father, he’d caught the eye of the unwed ladies of Charleston. People were eager to peel back the layers of the newcomer.

  Josephine swept toward us as a finely dressed manservant took Whitney’s and my wraps. Her rose-colored gown reflected a pinkness in her plump and gleaming cheeks. Long, elbow-length gloves covered her hands, which she rubbed as if to relieve an ache. She bestowed a grand smile on her mother. “Mother, I’ll see to our guests.”

  “Do enjoy yourselves,” Mrs. Abbotts said. She gripped her daughter’s arm and leaned in and whispered in her ear.

  Josephine’s face paled.

  “I mean it, Josephine Abbotts. On your best behavior,” Mrs. Abbotts said with a hard bite of her jaw before wandering off to mingle with her guests.

  After she was gone, Josephine turned back to us. “I’m delighted to see you two.” But sullenness had replaced the warm girl from the last time we’d met.

  “Your home is beautiful.” I glanced around in appreciation before resting my gaze back on her. “As are you.” I touched her hand.

  A wan smile brightened her face. “I don’t deserve your and Whitney’s kindness. Lucille and I haven’t exactly been cordial over the years.” The sadness returned.

  “Sometimes the company we keep has everything to do with it.” Whitney regarded me with an admiring smile.

  I waved a hand in dismissal. “A real friend should lift you up.”

  “Lately, Lucille finds any reason to belittle and humiliate me. With my recent weight gain, she’s been rather cruel. She has a way of demoralizing me.”

  “We’ve all become a target of hers at one time or another. But you choose to be her friend, whereas we do not.” Whitney shrugged.

  I placed a hand on Whitney’s arm to stop her forwardness before she offended our hostess in her own home.

  Unaffected by Whitney’s blunt opinion, Josephine said, “It’s quite all right, Willow. I wish I had Whitney’s courage to speak my mind.” Her eyes drifted past us, and I swerved to see what held her attention.

  The slave who’d taken our wraps stood against the wall with his head lowered, waiting for further instructions.

  “Her nagging is as bad as my mother’s,” she said dryly, returning her eyes to us. “Lucille will come undone with Father’s announcement this evening.”

  “Announcement?” I asked.

  She dropped her voice. “Father will be announcing my betrothal to Theodore Carlton.”

  A gasp came from the slave behind us, and I cast a glance in his direction. He quickly composed himself and moved to take the top hat and coat of an elderly man.

  Josephine led us down a corridor for privacy.

  “This Mr. Carlton, are you in love with him?”

  “No, of course not! He’s old enough to be my grandfather, and his lustful eyes unnerve me. But he comes with a fortune, and that’s all my parents see.” Tears welled in her eyes.

  I stroked her arm.

  “My only hope is that he’s one step from the grave. I had such grand ideas for my future, and it seems I’m meant to live a life of misery. I’ve never felt so alone in all my life.”

  “You can’t reason with your father about the matter?”

  “I’ve openly expressed my thoughts, but that earned me nothing but his wrath.” She involuntarily lifted a hand and rubbed her cheek, her mind reverting to a distant memory.

  The stress of Josephine’s current predicament would be reason enough for her weight gain. Adding Lucille’s nagging to the mix wouldn’t make it easier on her.

  “Men would lose their minds if we were to dictate to them as they do us. It’s exhausting, how they think we are too delicate and weak to feel and think for ourselves,” Whitney said with a disgusted huff. “Some womenfolk are made of sounder minds and greater strengths than the strongest of men.”

  Her opinion brought a laugh from Josephine. “One thing about Father’s announcement that I’ll delight in is the look on Lucille’s face. She’s unaware of my betrothal. I thought if I didn’t breathe the words, then it wouldn’t be true. The shock of the news will send her into a fit of rage. I’m sure of it.”

  Over Whitney’s shoulder, I had a clear view of the front doors. Silas entered, looking dapper. He removed his hat and outer coat and gave them to the servant.

  Lucille glided into the foyer. She clapped her hands in excitement at Silas’s arrival.

  “The mountain lion creeps in on its prey,” Whitney said, as if reciting a script. “Wait for it…”

  “Mr. Anderson, I’m delighted you’ve come.” Lucille’s voice carried like the unnerving squeal of hogs on butchering day
. “I insisted that Josephine and Mrs. Abbotts extend an invitation to you. The evening simply wouldn’t be as enjoyable without your attendance.”

  “Attack,” Whitney whispered, throwing a triumphant fist in the air.

  Josephine and I giggled.

  “Always making a spectacle of herself! I’m embarrassed for her,” Whitney said with a shake of her auburn locks. “The woman doesn’t have the slightest clue how irritating she can be.”

  The three of us moved from the shadows to get a better view.

  “Miss Carter, you are a vision.” Silas charmed her with a smile.

  Lucille placed a hand to her throat as she basked in his compliment. “I ordered this dress straight from Paris. The designer took the utmost care in designing this one-of-a-kind gown.” She moved in and placed her hand into the crook of his elbow and led him away.

  “One-of-a-kind gown,” Whitney mocked, screwing up her face.

  Josephine and I shared a glance, followed by laughter, as we went to join the rest of the guests in the parlor. Most of the furniture had been removed to open the space. Dressed in dark trousers and pressed white cotton shirts, men from the quarters formed the band of musicians in the far corner of the room.

  Pleasant laughter stilled my breathing and turned my head toward Bowden, who stood with a beautiful petite blonde. The woman leaned in and was speaking to him. From across the room, the unmasked delight he took in what she was saying stirred a slow burn in me.

  “Who’s that woman with Bowden?” I asked Josephine.

  “Why, that’s Cora O’Brien. Her uncle is a general in the US Army. Word has it he was at the battle with the Mexicans along the Rio Grande…”

  Josephine’s chatter blurred as I became engrossed in the pair across the room. “I’ve never seen her before.”

  “I don’t suppose you have. She’s from Texas and recently moved here after the death of her father and brother. I feel for the woman.”

  “How so?”

  “Why, her brother and father were taking a wagon train of settlers to California when they were attacked by savages. The heathens slaughtered the whole wagon train.”

  My heart went out to Miss O’Brien, but it didn’t still the jealousy tunneling through me.

  “It seems her uncle was an acquaintance of Bowden’s grandfather,” Lucille’s voice whispered in my ear. My lips parted as I glanced at her over my shoulder. She stepped back with a pleased, smug smile. “I’ve seen Bowden and the stunning Cora O’Brien with her uncle around town a few times lately.” Her eyes gleamed with pleasure as she added, “I see it’s true, then?”

  “What?” Narrowing my eyes, I turned back to the pair.

  “That you did release him.” Her hot breath steamed the skin of my neck.

  “Lucille, not now!” Whitney hissed.

  “I warned Willow this was bound to happen,” she said with a shrug of her bare, flawless shoulders.

  “Did Mr. Anderson tire of you already?” I glared at her.

  “My father stole him away. But don’t you worry, he will return.” Her chin tilted up, and she turned to study Bowden and his companion. “He’s obviously intrigued by Miss O’Brien. I mean, how could he not be, right? I heard she has the voice of a nightingale. Her pa sent her to Europe to learn opera. From what I hear, her voice surpasses Jenny Lind’s.”

  “A wagon master rich enough to send his daughter all the way to Europe? Do you hear the ridiculousness of your words?” Whitney said.

  Blocking out Lucille’s ramblings, I allowed my eyes to be drawn to the woman who had captured Bowden’s complete attention. My gaze moved to Bowden, trailing up his jawline to his neatly swept-back dark locks. The desire to be lost in his eyes and have him laughing with me instead of her overtook me.

  I had no one to blame but myself. I’d done this. I’d set him free to all the women waiting in the wings to snare a man like Bowden. At this moment, I wanted nothing more than to push my way through the guests and swear my undying love for him. To have his arms surround me and to have the beautiful Cora O’Brien be a bystander while he lavished me in sweet kisses.

  Bowden’s eyes met mine, and I swallowed hard. His smile disappeared.

  Miss O’Brien glanced to see what had stolen his attention, and uneasiness covered her soft, delicate features.

  “I’m not feeling so well. I need some fresh air. If you’ll all excuse me.” Gathering the side of my gown, I pushed through the suffocating press of party guests.

  Whitney’s scorn followed me. “I hope you’re pleased with yourself, Lucille.”

  “YOUR WRAP, MISS?” THE SERVANT said as I pushed past him and swept out the door.

  I ignored him in my haste to relieve the constriction of my lungs. The cool evening air spilled over me, and I released a breath.

  Descending the stairs, I slipped out of the light of the lanterns and away from the curious stares of guests fraternizing on the veranda.

  Had I expected Bowden to wait for me? Hadn’t he said there’d never be another woman for him? Selfishly, I’d clung to his words, allowing them to lull my mind and clot the bleeding of my heart.

  “Willow,” Ben’s voice rang out.

  I turned to find him moving toward me, shrugging into his frock coat with my wrap draped over his arm. He swung the wrap over my shoulders, and his fingers fumbled to clasp the button at my throat. I smiled at him trying to take care of me as a parent would a small child.

  “I saw you leave.” His face was taut with concern.

  I rubbed the chill from my arms.

  “I’m listening.”

  “I let a man I can never have steal my heart. I was the one to let him go, but to see him with her…” My voice shook with the despair and hopelessness that settled around my shoulders like a waterlogged cloak.

  “You’re referring to the lovely blonde on Bowden’s arm.”

  “He—he has the right to court whomever he pleases, but it doesn’t make it hurt any less. She is lovely, isn’t she?”

  He gawked at me, his lips parting, before a frown creased his brow, as if he was wondering if it was a trick question.

  “Life can’t always be this hard. If only things weren’t so complicated. Why can’t I be someone less complicated?”

  “You can’t wait for life to bring you happiness. You must go and find it on your own. I’ve spent a lifetime of living in the shadows while the woman I loved was with another. Don’t make the same mistakes your mother and I did. Don’t waste your life loving from afar.”

  “There is no way for me to change what is predetermined. Marrying Bowden would be like throwing away the key to my soul.”

  “Without him, will you ever be whole?”

  “I don’t know what I understand anymore. It’s like I’m walking through life in a fog, a stranger to myself and everyone around me.”

  “Give it time. But don’t push Bowden into the arms of another, or you’ll come to regret it.”

  Feeling helpless, I shrugged. “It will be what it will be. I don’t have the inclination to ponder such things. Let’s get this night over so we can go home.” I slipped my hand into the crook of his elbow as we walked back toward the house.

  THE PARLOR WAS ALIVE WITH vibrant twirling gowns as gentlemen gracefully led ladies around the dance floor. The band played “The Girl I Left Behind Me.”

  I stood outside the parlor, taking in the cheerful faces of the couples as they floated from one end of the room to the other. Under my gown, my foot tapped readily to the beat.

  “May I have this dance?” Ben held out his hand.

  I slipped my hand in his and followed him into the midst of the dancers.

  The song ended and another began. The dance switched to the galop. Ben swung me briskly around the floor, and when the song finished I was winded, my face warm with exertion. The gaiety of the evening renewed my spirit.

  Ben guided me to a nearby table of refreshments. A servant dressed in white and black held out a silver tray filled with glass
es of punch. I greedily selected a glass and nodded my thanks as I took a long sip. The cooling liquid coated my parched throat.

  I handed the empty glass back to the servant and moved to a corner of the room with Ben. I looked out at the dance floor and saw Whitney with a group of ladies, appearing bored at their topic of conversation. The Abbottses hadn’t extended an invitation to Knox because he wasn’t part of their social class.

  Lucille’s voice carried, and with a sideways glance, I saw her speaking to Silas. The poor man was still clutched in her talons. “You own one slave?” she asked, her brow narrowed.

  “His mama ran off when he was younger. He’s become more like family,” he said rather loudly. Over Lucille’s head, his eyes pierced mine.

  “Family!” she said with a slight curl of her lip. “Those lazy devils can hardly be family. My pa says that the slaves need to know who’s master. He says that if Southern gentlemen keep cozying up with the slaves, it’ll be the end of our pure race. Masters bearing children with the creatures…” Her face lost all prettiness with the disgust that transformed her features. “Why, it’s an abomination. They may as well go out to the field and breed with the hogs. All these mulattos running around is unchristian.”

  Silas shifted his weight from one foot to the other. The stiffness in his body was evident, but like a gentleman, he listened without interruption. He was a saint. More than I could say for myself as I bristled with each word that came out of Lucille’s mouth. My fingers curled in my gloves. Buttons sewed to Lucille’s lips to muffle her belligerent chatter would ease all the bleeding ears in the room.

  “A while back, my pa bought a new slave,” she continued. “His eyes flash with fire like he’s possessed. Pa says he just needs to be tamed and shown who his master is. The slave’s endless chanting of ‘I’m no man’s slave’ is permanently etched into my brain. He claims he’s a free man.”

  Ben’s and my eyes locked as our ears perked up. We moved closer to eavesdrop on the conversation.

  Lucille, who loved to hear herself talk, went on. “But my pa will show him how the Carters take to slaves that don’t understand their place. He’ll be a prized bull by the time Pa is done with him.”