by Lora Thomas
“Splendid,” came a voice from behind them. All turned to find Mrs. Windstrum standing in the doorway. “I arrived to see the best part.”
“Get out, Edith. Get a hobby, ride a horse or go find someone to screw. I don’t give a damn what you do, just get out!” Amanda shouted.
“How dare you!” the plump woman replied. “My husband is highly influential in the state government. I’ll see that he hears about—”
Amanda picked up her pistol and pointed it at the older woman. “You’re about to hear the shot of my pistol as it hits your overly large backside if you don’t leave!” she said as she slammed the door in the woman’s face.
Emmett gasped in shock, Andrea let out a disgruntled moan as she rolled her eyes, Ott and Michael laughed. Only Amanda could find a way to cause a scandal worse than a forced wedding.
Chapter Fourteen
After the wedding, Michael stormed out of the home. The birds were singing a cheerful song as the sun made its upward climb. Butterflies floated gracefully over the fragrant flowers. Jar flies created their ear-shattering noise as the sun warmed their bodies. A chicken squawked loudly and chased a small dog away from its chicks. The beauties of the surroundings were invisible to Michael. He was stressed and needed a release. While he walked across the yard towards the barn, he spotted Young Amos. If anyone knew who would help him release his stress, it was him.
Michael motioned for the man to meet him. When Young Amos arrived, Michael gestured towards the cotton barn. Young Amos followed Michael into the barn. Once inside, Michael turned to the older man.
“I’m in need of a good fight. Do you know of anyone who would be willing to comply?”
The short black man looked at Michael and shook his head. “You sure have strange ways about you, Mr. Michael.”
Michael dismissed the observation and asked again, “Do you? If anyone knows anyone who is itching for a fight, it would be you. I’m frustrated and angry and need a way to burn off steam.”
Young Amos wrinkled his brow. “Yes, sir. I know someone who’d fight ya . . . maybe. Mr. Ott bought him a few months back. His last master was awfully mean ta ‘em, beat ‘em bad. He don’t care none too much for white folk.”
“Perfect. That’s just what I want, a biased opponent. He won’t hold back, will he? I mean, afraid that there will be retaliation for fighting with me?”
“He shouldn’t once I tell him you won’t turn him over.” Young Amos headed towards the back barn doors. “I’ll be right back.”
He was gone several minutes and returned with one of the broadest men Michael had ever seen. He wasn’t nearly as tall as Michael, but what he lacked in stature, he made up with in muscle. The man with Young Amos remind Michael of a young bull—full of spirit and untamable.
“This here’s Tobias. Tobias, this is Mr. Michael. He wants a good fight.”
Tobias looked suspiciously at Michael. He asked in a whisper to Young Amos, “Is this a trick?”
“I can assure you that this is not a trick,” Michael replied. “I am in need of a good fight, if you are willing.”
The muscular slave studied Michael for a minute. He looked back to Young Amos. The other man just smiled.
“Go on now, Tobias. Mr. Michael can be trusted. He won’t tell on ya.”
Tobias looked reluctantly back at Michael and nodded his head. If Young Amos said he could be trusted, then it must be so.
“Good,” Michael replied. He walked over to his opponent and extended his hand. Tobias stared skeptically at Michael’s outstretched hand. “Go ahead, take it. I don’t want us to have any hard feelings towards one another. Once this fight is over, we will shake again. It’s all in sport and fun.”
Tobias reluctantly shook Michael’s hand. Michael could feel the strength in the young man’s grip and the hardness of his knuckles. A malicious smile crossed Michael’s face and he swatted the young man on his bicep. He was going to be in excruciating pain after this fight.
Michael pulled his hand back after the shake and walked towards the center of the barn. Taking off his shirt, he tossed it to the side. He twisted his neck side-to-side and then motioned for Tobias that he was ready.
Michael landed the first punch to Tobias’s midsection and pain surged through his knuckles up to his elbow. The younger man didn’t move. Michael hit him two more times, once to the chin and then to his nose.
“Come now,” Michael complained, holding his hands outward in frustration. “I won’t fight you if you don’t hit back. Wouldn’t be sporting.”
Without warning Tobias landed a punch to Michael’s mouth. The blow sent Michael staggering backwards several feet. Blood trickled from of the corner of his mouth. Michael shook his head to clear the stars from his vision and the ringing from his ears. Taking the back of his hand, he dabbed at the corner of his mouth. A smile crossed his face.
“That’s more like it,” Michael replied as he advanced towards Tobias.
The fighting men quickly drew a small crowd. There were cheers for both men when they landed punches. Michael’s fists seemed to have little effect on his stoutly built opponent. However, Tobias’s were affecting Michael. He had a busted lip, a black eye, his right cheek was beginning to swell, and if Michael had to guess, he had several broken ribs.
Tobias’s last punch sent Michael stumbling backwards and he fell onto the ground. Tobias advanced towards Michael, but Michael motioned him to back up.
“Please stop. I think that last punch of yours broke something of importance,” he said as he attempted to laugh. He stopped as pain surged through his left side as he sat up.
Tobias extended Michael his hand and helped him stand. Michael patted the young man on the back and could feel the raised scars through the material of his shirt. Michael felt empathy for the younger man. He extended his own hand out and offered Tobias a firm handshake.
“Good fight, old man. I never dreamed someone would give me a better fight than my brothers.”
“You okay?” Tobias questioned as he watched Michael stagger.
Michael shook his head like a dog clearing water from its fur. “I’m fine. Just a little dazed, but nothing that won’t soon pass.” Michael took a step away from Tobias and fell to the ground.
“How hard ya hit him, Tobias?” Hezekiah asked, racing over to Michael.
A feeling of dread entered Tobias. It was against the law to raise a hand to a white man, no matter what the situation. He looked frantically around. If Michael was badly injured, then he would surely be beaten to death.
Michael watched the turmoil cross his opponent’s face. “It’s quite all right, Tobias. I’m fine. If anyone asks, I’ll tell them I made Miss Mandy angry.” The barn echoed with laughter at his statement.
Suddenly, the laughter ceased. Hezekiah looked up and slowly stepped away from Michael. Michael couldn’t hold himself up and fell back, his head hitting the barn floor with a thud.
“Damn that hurt,” he mumbled and closed his eyes.
Andrea looked down at her husband and her eyes grew wide. “What happened?”
Michael opened one eye and looked upward. Andrea was standing over him with a look of concern on her face. He knew he was severely bruised. The image of Eli entered his head. Eli and Max had a “disagreement” right after the announcement. Eli’s excuse for his injuries was that he ran into a brick wall. Michael grinned sheepishly at her and decided that Eli’s reasoning would be suitable in this situation as well.
“I ran into a wall.”
There were several chuckles from the men in the barn.
Andrea looked around at the small crowd. “Don’t you have work you’re supposed to be doing?” The men quickly began departing. She knelt down beside Michael. “A wall did this to you?”
“It was a brick wall,” he elaborated and attempted a small laugh again. The motion of his chest moving made him flinch.
Andrea looked around and spotted Old Amos. She called him over. “What happened to my husband?”
Andrea took a controlling breath. “Yes. What happened to him?”
Old Amos looked down at Michael. Michael gave him a wink. “He walked into a brick wall, jest like he said, Miss Andi.”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake, Old Amos,” Andi stated with exasperation. “Who was the brick wall?”
“I didn’t get a good look at him. I was too busy dodging his fists,” Michael answered and laughed, the pain making him act dimwitted.
Andrea looked down at Michael. He was a pitiful mess. His right eye was swollen shut and his lip was still bleeding. Telltale signs of bruising were beginning to show on his right cheek and there was a small cut to the bridge of his nose. She sat down and placed his head in her lap. Pulling a handkerchief out of her sleeve, she dabbed the blood on his lip. “You went looking for a fight, didn’t you?”
“Now what gave you that impression?”
“When you left the house you slammed the door so hard that you almost knocked it off the hinges. So I put two-and-two together.”
Michael looked up at the beautiful woman holding his head in her lap. It hurt to breathe, it hurt to move, it hurt to do anything, and all he was concerned about was trying to find a way to kiss her.
“Was it that obvious?”
“Yes,” she said as she continued to address his injuries.
Michael could see the pain in her eyes. He had heard some of the slaves mention how she would sometimes wonder why men never found her attractive, never wanted her. His actions at their marriage must have been a continued rejection in her mind.
“I know you don’t want me—”
“I think after the incident in the cave we both know that isn’t true.”
A blush crept up her high cheekbones. “That’s not what I meant.”
“You’re a beautiful, desirable woman, Andrea.” Michael looked into her eyes as he spoke. “All men want you. You just scare the hell out of them.”
“Thanks,” she stated with sarcasm.
“Well, think about it. You are smart, clever, and if I had to guess, as good of a shot as your mother. Men don’t like women who are independent and think for themselves.”
“What about you? Do you like women who think for themselves?”
“I find it growing on me.” Michael said with a roguish smile. She playfully slapped his shoulder. “Ow! You hit harder than that brick wall. I think he would tend to my injuries more gently”
“If that’s the case, I’ll let the brick wall tend to you,” she joked and raised his head up.
She stood up and reached down to help Michael stand. He took her hand. As she was pulling him upward, he pulled her down on top of him. He flinched from the pain the move inflicted on his ribs. She let out a small cry as she fell. She attempted to push up from him, but he held her in place.
“You know, my injuries need attention.”
“So you’ve stated,” she said, struggling against him. “Now, please let me up.”
“You know, when I was little, my mother used to kiss any injuries.”
“Really? And did that truly help?”
“Actually, no. It didn’t when I was younger, but let’s see if it does now,” he replied huskily.
She was tempted to kiss him. She enjoyed his kisses. They made her feel wanted, desirable. But she recalled what happened the last time she kissed him—it placed them both in an unwanted marriage. She looked at his mouth and chewed on her lower lip.
“Just one little kiss,” she said, lowering her head to his. She gave him a quick peck on his cheek. “There now, all better.”
“But I have other injures.”
“Then I suggest you be the one to kiss them, since you asked for this punishment. Now, kindly let me up before someone finds us like this.”
“Why? What are they going to do? We’re already married.”
“You’re incorrigible.”
“Never doubt it for a minute, Pixie.” He loosened his grip from her waist. “Now if you don’t mind, I would like to lay here for a while until I can breathe without pain.”
“You can’t lie in the middle of the barn floor,” she protested.
“Why not?”
“I don’t know. It’s just not done.”
“Like that has ever stopped you from doing things.”
“That’s different.”
“How?”
“It just is,” she sputtered. “Now get up before someone runs you over with a wagon.”
He nodded his head and slowly stood, fighting the dizziness. He would have to remember not to choose Tobias as a sparring partner again. That man almost beat him senseless. He staggered to the wall and began walking towards the door. He reminded Andi of a drunken man. Michael would push away from the wall only to walk right back into it again.
Andi walked over to him and placed an arm around his waist to assist him. “I’m taking you to see Nellie.”
“Who’s she?”
“She is our . . . our . . . ,” She furrowed her brow together trying to think of a description to call Nellie. “Well, she’s like a doctor.”
He stopped and looked down at her. “Egad, she’s not a voodoo woman, is she?” he asked in mortification.
“No,” she said, frustrated.
“Good.” The couple began walking again. “My brother Eli has one of those as a house servant. That woman scares the hell out of me. She walks around with a chicken foot around her neck and mumbles to herself all the time. I think she’s trying to put a curse on me.”
“Really?” she said with doubt to her voice.
“Yes. You’ll see. When you meet her, you’ll see that I’m not mad.”
“And just how am I supposed to meet her?”
“You are my wife and I live—from time to time—at Governor’s Harbour.”
“Oh,” she said as the realization of what he was saying hit her. He lived in the Caribbean. She was his wife and would be expected to reside with her husband. She would have to leave her family. But would that be a bad thing? She did like to travel, not that she had been anywhere other than up and down the coast of South Carolina and Georgia. “So is your home large at Governor’s Harbour?”
“I don’t have a home of my own. There is no use in me to have one really. I travel almost the entire year, so when I am home, I stay with my parents. But, yes, it is a large home—three stories.”
“That is a big house.”
“It had to be. There were nine of us after all—eleven, if you count my parents.” He drew his brow together as he looked at her. “Well, I’ll be damned . . . it would have been twelve if my father had known about Max.”
“Who’s Max?”
“Oh, that’s right, you weren’t there when I discussed my family.” Michael went on to explain his family. As they walked, Michael studied the buildings around him. The slaves’ quarters were well made and maintained. All were brick with glass windows and sturdy doors. Each home had small a chimney extending from the rooftop. They were nothing like the shacks that he had witnessed at some of the other plantation owners’ estates.
When they stopped in front of a home, he ended his story with, “I can’t wait to return. I had to depart early the next morning after father’s announcement. Max has a daughter so I have a new niece to become acquainted with.” He drew his brow together in thought. “Aw, hell . . . I have one more niece or nephew on the way since Max’s wife, Kristina, is expecting.”
Andrea hadn’t realized his family was so large. They all traveled and were infrequently home, but they were close, closer than she was with her own family. She looked up at the handsome man beside her and a feeling hit her in the center of her chest. She could feel her heart tighten as she gazed at him. She broke the feelings building inside her by saying, “We’re here,” and she assisted him up a small step.
She knocked on the door once and waited. A minute later an old black woman e
merged from the home. She was stooped over midway down her back. Her white hair was pulled back in a bun on the back of her head. She looked around and Michael noticed that her eyes were just as white as her hair.
“Who’s there?” the woman asked and reached out in front of her.
“It’s me, Nellie,” Andrea answered, patting the old woman on the hand.
“Why, Miss Andi, what brings ya by ta see me sa early today?”
“I have someone who needs your attention.”
“And who would that be, child?” Nellie asked, a caring smile on her face.
Andi swallowed nervously. “My husband.”
Michael watched the smile melt off the old woman’s face. She pulled Andi closer to her. “It ain’t that Earl fella, is it?” Her voice was far from being quiet, letting whoever was around know that she did not care if they heard.
“No, I’m not,” Michael replied.
“Oh, ho! He sounds like a handsome fella. I like deep voices,” Nellie replied as she reached towards Michael. “Makes me wiggle.” A coquettish smile crossed her face.
Michael took her outstretched hand. She patted his knuckles and a concerned look came to her face. “Who’ve you been fightin’ with?”
“How did you—”
“Yer hands are rough, sa I can tell yer used ta hard work and been doin’ it fer a while. But yer knuckles shouldn’t be swollen, unlessin’ yer new to it, which ya ain’t.”
“Amazing,” Michael responded, observing the blind woman before him.
“It’s jest common sense. Now what do I call ya?”
“His name is Michael St. John,” Andrea answered.
Her faded eyes lit up. “Oh, yer that ship man, ain’t ya?”
“Yes.”
Nellie allowed her hand to travel to the bend of Michael’s elbow. “Help an old blind woman find a chair while Miss Andi gets us somethin’ ta drink.”
Michael assisted Nellie to a rocking chair on the porch. “Go on now, child. I promise I won’t try and steal yer man.”
Andi smiled and entered Nellie’s home. When Nellie heard the door close, she sat down in her chair but held onto Michael’s arm. She pulled him down to her. “Treat her good. She’s a wild spirit and I would hate ta see that spirit broken.”
