Bittersweet Endeavors

by Tamara Ternie

  A man within the line snarled and threateningly narrowed his eyes. It was an attempt to intimidate him after overhearing, albeit low, what he had said to his father, but he failed miserably at scaring him. Nothing ever frightened him, not the occasional Injun who scouted out their colony, and certainly not a petty thief who had made his way of passage through such means as servitude.

  Seth stepped up and observed the insolent man and nodded his head toward him. “Tis bothersome to know that more criminals shall be lurking about our home and mayhap cause trouble. Shouldn’t we consider mother and my sisters, father? Lord knows what these animals mayhap one day bid upon them.”

  “Not all these men and women are here on servitude fleeing from the court’s penalty,” his father reminded harshly. “Many simply come by way of compensation for passage.”

  Seth lowered his head, shamed and embarrassed by the public rebuke his father gave him. It hurt greatly when he found disfavour within his father’s eyes, and more so when it came from his mouth. In that instance, it came from both.

  “What if you negotiate the bonds today?” His father’s suggestion was an attempt in softening the reproach. “But they’ll also be your responsibility once we arrive home,” he warned.

  Seth smiled wide. His father had always taken on the task. Even at three and twenty years, his father still thought of him as a child. Yet now, he entrusted him with a task befitting a man and he planned to make his father proud.

  “How many shall be purchased today?” Seth poorly controlled the excitement in his tone.

  His father shook his head. Clear blue eyes that mirrored his own softened, but Seth saw the discouraged look in his father’s eyes.

  “Very few, I’m afraid, son.” He kept his voice low, not wanting their neighbors to hear about their financial woes. “There’s not much tobacco left for trading, for we spent nearly all our yearly provisions last month in seeing us through winter.”

  Seth nodded, and as his shoulders slumped downward, so did his spirits. Seth hoped he’d show his father his ability to purchase good, strong workers who’d prove productive in their tobacco fields. Yet he wondered how he’d accomplish that task if there was only a scant amount of laborers procured. He understood his father’s plight, though. Since joining the colony, their funds were pinched for the construction of their new plantation home, as well as providing their daily necessities. However, Seth’s disappointment didn’t go unnoticed.

  “Albeit from our present financial state, I think we can afford at least six,” Anvil Preston declared.

  Anvil smiled up at him. Seth outgrew his father by nearly a head in the previous two years. Anvil raised his hand and patted his back, and Seth saw the proud gleam in his father’s eyes.

  “Now, get busy choosing some good workers before the best ones are spoken for.” With a curt nod, Anvil Preston crossed his arms and urged Seth onward with another nod.

  Seth rushed down the line and inspected the many prospective field hands who would tend the fields and aid in the building of their plantation home.

  “Do not forget, Seth, your mother wishes for a new maid,” Anvil called after him. “Be sure to find someone who’ll be agreeable with her.”

  Seth nodded his acknowledgment and continued down the line of indentures. He saw three exceptionally large men who looked fit and not bothered by their journey, or did they seem unduly distressed by the cold, brisk snow beneath their bare feet. He decided he’d bid well for them, and if his good fortune held out, one may be that of a carpenter.

  As he made his way toward the end of the line, he saw of a young girl who stood slightly away from the others. The trader followed his gaze and the man promptly reproached her. Seth winced when the trader thrust her forward with the brunt of his hands and forced her into standing aside the rest of the bondsmen and women.

  Seth stood still and watched the scene as it enfolded. Several onlookers had taken notice of the attractive girl, too, and although the men knew better than voice their intent on what they’d like to do with her, they markedly revealed their unspoken suggestions with wicked expressions.

  A surge of protectiveness flowed through him, but he didn’t know why. Throughout the years, he watched many young bondswomen as they came through the lines, but there was something different about the girl. Seth wondered if it was because she looked about the age of Margaret, his younger sister. Certainly it wasn’t due to her comely appearance, for she looked as small as a child. He shrugged off the unwelcomed thoughts that emerged. Weren’t they the same thoughts that he silently rebuffed the others who ogled her?

  The crowd scurried their way in front of her, and he pushed and prodded his way through the hoard of people until he stood in front of her. “What is your name?” He wanted to demonstrate his ability to wisely choose servants, but there he was, asking a meaningless question. He knew he looked foolish, but yet he eagerly awaited her answer.

  The girl faced all the men who stood in front of her, and looked at each of them one by one. The men gawked and inspected her head to heel. Seth wondered if they waited excitedly as he in hearing her name, too.

  Then, she looked at him.

  His breath caught in his chest, and he forced himself to breathe. Her amber eyes beheld a wealth of gold, but he saw her fear within their depths. Seth accounted for her fear to the reaction she received around her. Undoubtedly, if one of the men claimed her, she’d fulfill her time of servitude on her back. The supposition plagued him until a dull pang invaded his belly.

  “Myra. My name is Myra,” the raven hair beauty finally declared.

  Although only a whisper, Seth felt the harmony of her voice as it cascaded within him. It spread soothingly through him and summoned a peace within that he’d never known.

  However, quick as the feeling came over him, he forced it below the surface. He was acting like a besotted fool. He wondered what his father would think of his foolishness over a bondswoman.

  Seth examined her closely. He slowly swept a glance from her rich black hair to her tattered wool-covered feet. Despite her shabby clothing, she possessed a comely face. Even so, he would bet his share of their tobacco farm that she had been a whore or thief back in England, two common offenses of the women. At least, for those bonds who hadn’t entered for the sake of their passage. Seth decided a tender voice and a pleasing face wouldn’t fool him.

  What was your crime, child?” He sufficiently raised his voice and sent a surge of authority into his tone. He watched many men purchase indentures throughout the years, and as he learned, it was essential keeping the upper hand, as well as portraying superiority over them.

  The young girl fidgeted with a lock of her long, black hair that had let loose from a poorly styled knot atop her head. She twirled the strand nervously around her finger. Seth suspected she was dispirited by the attention she received. She raised her chin and again looked at him. Vexation plagued her lovely, pale skin, and Seth felt a pang of regret.

  He couldn’t let her weaken his senses. He scowled at her.

  The girl scowled back!

  “I asked you a question, child.”

  “I am not a child,” she forced out.

  “You are only a mite,” Seth grunted.

  The crowd joined his goading of her, and soon the crowd was in an uproar of laughter at the girl’s expense.

  “You don’t look to weigh that of a sack of flour and stand no taller than a fencepost. Even my sister Patience, who is a child of eleven years, could easily keep you within her shadow.” He made his statement his last words and moved onward down the line, but her reply made him halt.

  “Then I would say you have a very fat sister,” Myra called back.

  The crowd resounded in a roar of laughter.

  “You’re an insolent child, at that,” he bit out. He was angered that she turned the crowd against him, as well as the fact that the sister he was referencing was indeed of healthy size.

  “I am nearing my twentieth year.”

/>   Seth detected a little less fervor when she spoke. She cowered back within the line of people after the words left her well-defined ruby lips. He knew the ridicule given by him and the crowd lessened her exuberance. Again, a pang of regret flanked him. Browbeating wasn’t his way, but he wanted—nay, needed—to prove his authority. His behavior wasn’t much different than those around him, so why should he feel remorseful? Didn’t she deserve such treatment? Surely she must, he concluded, or the girl—Myra—wouldn’t be there.

  Seth approached her again and looked at her with disdain. “You say you’re near your twentieth year? Not only are you a probable thief or whore, but ‘twould seem you extend that into falsehoods too.”

  He didn’t expect it, but it came—a swift kick that met his shin. Although the pain was naught, the girl’s fiery reproach sent him reeling with anger. His temper willed for retaliation but his conscience refused to allow him to act on the urge.

  Unfortunately, he couldn’t say the same for the tradesman.

  The man raised his hand and slapped her across the face and left a bright-red handprint in its wake. Before Seth was able to prevent further reproof, the man dragged her off toward the wagon that the servants had earlier been placed until time of auction. On the trader’s return, the man apologized profusely for the girl’s conduct and promised more severe action would be taken after auction.

  Seth didn’t find consolation in the man’s threat against the girl. Didn’t he goad her into the recourse she’d taken? He went too far with his baiting of her. His father would be ashamed of his behavior and Seth felt equally embarrassed by his conduct.

  He looked toward the wagon that sheltered the girl. Seth raised his hand and placed it on his face. He silently willed that the girl’s painful welt be transferred onto his own cheek. Regardless if she was kept hidden, many of the men who came would attempt a bargain for her. Many enjoyed the spirit that a girl like her offered. He heard from a few men—outside the earshot of elders—that a quick-tempered girl kept a man’s bed warm all winter. On his account, she revealed her potential worth all too well. Comprehending the full extent of his blunder, he knew he needed to prevent such an occurrence from happening.

  The trader stood nearby and Seth nudged the man’s arm and gained his attention. His voice lowered, intimidating and full of command. “I demand more than an apology.”

  Seth knew the trader well by previous acquisitions, and the trader knew them, the Preston family. They acquired many servants through his private, and less than legitimate service, and Seth counted on the man’s fear of losing their business to another tradesman.

  “I wish a side deal for this girl-servant. That is the compensation I demand for her act of violence toward me whilst under your charge. There shall be others who attempt a bargain for her, but I see it my prerogative in having first choice, under the circumstances.”

  The man didn’t argue. After an exchange of tobacco that equaled three pounds, Seth assured the detainment of Myra’s services for the next four years. T’was the best bargain their family had ever received for a servant.

  No doubt, his father would be pleased.

  CHAPTER THREE

  “Has the devil gotten into you, Seth?” Anvil shouted.

  “Of course not, father.” Seth retained a calm demeanor and hoped it would decrease his father’s temper, but Anvil’s anger escalated with each moment passed.

  “Do you think I haven’t heard what they say of that child?” He paced the spacious wigwam that served as their temporary dwelling until the completion of their new plantation home. Anvil tossed a parchment of propaganda onto an ornate French chair. It looked out of place in the small abode that scarcely equaled the quality of a military tent.

  “She’s not a child, father. She is nearing her twentieth year and shalt make a responsible maid for mother.” Seth grinned inwardly at his defense of Myra’s age when he considered that was what started all the trouble. He turned his head and hid the smile that emerged when the humorous idea of him kicking his father’s shin in her defense.

  “She’s bedeviled! That’s what they say!” His father shook his head back and forth and lines of worry creased his broad forehead. “Why, a maid to your dear mother,” he sniveled. “Didn’t she kick a poor gent while at the sale today? They say she angered the poor man insomuch that he nearly took his own hand to her.”

  Clearly, none of the townspeople had the heart or nerve to reveal that it was he who had been accosted. Seth attempted speech, but his father continued with his blustering and cut him off each time he tried opening his mouth.

  “Such conduct would be most unchristian, of course, but bringing such contempt among our own must say something of disfavour about the girl.”

  Anvil poked the fire’s dying embers and his words ignited as explosively as the flames that newly crackled within the hearth. “Why, they even said that this man she kicked — and they say he was a big man — could’ve easily been beaten to mush if the trader hadn’t interfered! I tell you, son, she is bewitched by the devil himself.” He turned from the fire and looked Seth in the eye and asked, “Did you witness the deed yourself, perchance?”

  Seth balanced his full weight onto one leg, and raised his knee. He closed his eyes, and then opened again to roll them heavenward. Thankful for the discretion his neighbors used in not revealing it was he who played the fool at the sale, Seth felt pleased. Yet it wouldn’t be long before his father heard the truth by a less restrained neighbor. Seth rolled down his silk hose from the bottom of his breeches and revealed a small, but distinct swelling of a bruise upon his shin.

  “T’was you,” Anvil clamored. “Then you turn around and purchase her?” Anvil’s mouth was left agape. When his lips finally met, he opened them again and repeated the action. “By the faith, Seth, I cannot believe it! Are you daft?”

  “T’was I who caused the trouble for her, father,” he tried explaining. “Didn’t you advise me not to belittle these people — these bondsmen?”

  His father refused to give a response.

  Seth sighed. Chances were nil that his father would budge, and being in lather over it, he’d surely not change his mind. As always, once his father set his position, it always proved final. Only God Himself could talk him out of it, and Seth didn’t expect Him to make an appearance to help his cause. Nonetheless, Seth made another attempt. “I goaded the girl and brought undue attention upon her. Once I saw my error, I corrected it.”

  “An apology would have sufficed!”

  “Be practical, father. The girl is comely. Surely, you must’ve taken notice.” The muscles in Seth’s jaw tightened, and he gritted his teeth when he remembered the intent stares the men placed on Myra’s maturing curves. “Rest assured, the other men noticed.” Seth walked toward his father and rested his hand on his shoulder. “I believe her virtue mayhap ruined if the wrong man purchased her.”

  “You are speaking of our neighbors, our friends, and I’ll not have it!” Anvil rose and moved away from the hearth. A wary glint shadowed his eyes and he shook his head. “Tis true there are times that the men who joined our community know not when to use best judgment.” A guilty flicker sparked in his eyes. “But I shall hear no more of your criticism of them. They are still our neighbors and friends. Is that understood?”

  “Aye, father.” Seth held back saying anything further since the subject came as one his father knew very well. Seth made his way toward the door and intended to leave, but he turned around when his father called out.

  “What are your plans for this new servant?”

  “Her name is Myra.” Seth liked the way her name rolled from his tongue and passed over his lips, but he prevented the smile that tugged at the corners of his mouth. “As I have stated, I think she shall make an agreeable maid for mother.”

  Before his father gave argument, Seth quickly shut the door behind him, but not soon enough to avoid hearing his father shout out his dismay.

  For now, Seth thought with a smi
le, ‘twould seem kitchen chores would serve Myra best.

  * * *

  Seth’s light-blue eyes held a stern ray of command that demanded Myra’s attention, but she didn’t particularly want to offer him the courtesy.

  “I insist that you behave appropriately whilst you are here. Do you understand?”

  Myra reluctantly nodded and resisted the urge to scratch the itch beneath the hem of her gray wool skirt. Surely he, the man before her, would take offense by the action.

  His hand strewed through blond tufts of windblown hair. Betwixt that and his unshaven face, she thought he looked quite the blackguard. Although, the unsavory look suited him well, she silently and reluctantly admitted. The pompous man chose the kitchens — the most public place at the plantation — to reprimand her. Ten other servants lollygagged and watched the scene. The more he berated her, the harder it became keeping her anger in check. Her irritation worsened with the combination of the kitchen’s heat and the wool of her skirt, which made it near impossible to tolerate the itch that she couldn’t soothe. Nevertheless, she remained calm and nodded at each order that he barked out.

  After he finished stating the house rules, he proceeded to rattle off all the Blue Laws of Jamestown which he insisted she also abide. However, she took exception when his brow quirked upward, emphasizing the rule of no unmarried couples kissing. She wondered why he thought that would be the one that she’d most likely breach. What kind of lady did he think her to be? She finally concluded that the man was insufferable, and the urge to admit her identity overwhelmed her. She considered pointing out that she was his better, but a raised temper couldn’t overrule common sense. For the sake of her sister, she continued the façade of being amenable.

  Each moment passed was excruciating, but she continued nodding curtly. His voice thundered out strong, deep, and sounded outright superior. She wondered if he thought he was The King of England. She was able to indubitably vouch he was not, and her desire in telling him such tempted her near as much as the urge came to scratch her itch.