Cicely's only mistake in life had been Ashley's birth, and presumably the actions that had foreshadowed that shameful event. The scandal of an illegitimate child had been hushed by a hasty marriage to a wealthy suitor, or at least one who lived as though he were financially secure. Once Cicely had sent the infant Ashley to Maryland, the gossips along the James River had found other quarry.
Cicely had spent the twenty-three years since then as the ideal Virginia Tidewater lady. In all things she deferred to her husband, accepting his actions and decisions without question—even when he gambled away her land and spent her considerable dowry on other women.
Despite his continuing love for his only child, Grandfather had told Ashley that Cicely was weak. He didn't want Ashley to make the same mistakes in life; he would teach her to be strong. He would train her to be the equal of any man in wisdom and education. He would make her an independent woman—so independent that she need never marry if she didn't wish to. He had proved his belief in Ashley's worth by leaving everything he had to her, bypassing Cicely and her two sons by Nicholas Randall.
Randall had been so furious that he'd prevented Cicely from coming to the old man's funeral. Even now, he was attempting to break old Ash Morgan's will in a court of law, claiming that Cicely should inherit Morgan's Fancy.
The matter was still under consideration by the governor, but Richard had assured Ashley that there was little chance of her stepfather winning the case, so long as the decision would be made in Annapolis and not Williamsburg. Both colonies might be under English law, but the fierce competition and antagonism between Virginia and Maryland would be a definite factor in the outcome of the case. Annapolis officials would favor Ashley's claim because she held land in Maryland. Nicholas Randall was an outsider despite his wealth and position, and despite the fact that he was a man contesting a woman's rights.
Ashley quietly let herself out the kitchen door. Jai bounded along behind her, as frisky as any pup. The mist was fast disappearing, and morning light sparkled on the grass. It's beautiful, Ashley thought, as green and new-washed as the earth must have looked on the first day of creation. She breathed deeply, inhaling the tangy salt air, letting it banish the terror and despair of the night before.
Lucifer trotted to the split-rail fence, nickering, his black hide as smooth as satin, his eyes full of mischief. Ashley paused to pat the velvet nose. "No biscuit today," she apologized. The pony had an insatiable appetite for Joan's beaten biscuits, and Ashley gladly contributed all of her daily portion.
Joan cooked as well as she cleaned house. Her biscuits were more suited to ship's ballast than to a keen palate.
Bondmen who had gathered around the blackened barn caught Ashley's attention, and she hurried toward them.
"Morning, mistress," one man called. He snatched off his cap as the others quickly acknowledged her presence.
"It coulda been worse. The roof caved in and the rain put out the fire," Edgar offered shyly.
"Hay's gone," Joshua said, then spat a wad of tobacco into the mud.
Ashley walked around the barn, then made her way inside the skeletal structure. The stalls where the horses had been were ruined caves. Ashley shivered as she recalled the smell of horses' burned bodies on a neighbor's plantation several months ago. Will Johnson's barn had gone up in flames, taking four of his workhorses and his best hunter. Ashley swallowed hard, imagining Scarlet's gleaming chestnut coat charred beyond recognition.
The back section of the barn was worse, covered with blackened timbers and ashes. The door to the tack room was still warm to the touch. Ashley flinched, then dragged it open with her good hand. It smelled awful inside, but the saddles and bridles seemed undamaged. She blinked back gathering tears of relief. She couldn't even begin to put a value on the harness, and it was safe.
Joshua waited a few steps away, faded cap in hand. "Baron's got a gash on his hind leg. Won't let nobody near it. He tried to take Edgar's head off this mornin'." He took a breath and plunged on. "Scarlet's got burns that oughta be looked at, and Geordy swears he pulled his shoulder out trying to hold Baron. Short John's got the bellyache. His old woman say he can't do no work today."
"Enough!" Ashley protested. "I want every hand on this place, man, woman, and child, here at this barn after breakfast. I want all the burned wood carried off. Anything whole enough to be used again is to go in one pile, the rest goes for firewood. Whatever hay isn't ruined is to be spread on the grass. The children can turn it every day until it's dry. By the time it's ready, we'll have a roof to put over it."
"The plantation sloop sunk; the bow's stove in. The flat-bottom boat's washed up in the sheep meadow." Joshua scratched his close-cropped gray hair. His washed-out blue eyes seemed like those of an old man, yet he was barely forty. "Sheep are scattered God knows where, and the cows didn't give a bucket o' milk between them this mornin'."
Ashley's fingers curled into fists and pain from her burned hand shot up one arm to her shoulder. "The sheep can find their own way home. I want this mess cleared away—now!"
"We're short on nails and it's gonna take a lot of pit-sawed lumber to build a new barn, not to mention cedar shakes for the room," Joshua said. "Some of them beams are still good, but I don't know, might be better to pull the whole thing down and build from scratch."
"Send a boy to Canterbury. Tell Martin Hopkins he can have that team of oxen he was offering for, in exchange for enough hay to get us through the winter. Prime hay—none of his moldy seconds."
"Without them oxen, we'll be slow in gettin' timber out in spring. Unless you want to start them half-trained ones in their place."
"Without the hay, we won't get the rest of the stock through the winter. And Mari says it's going to be a hard one." The faintest trace of satisfaction showed in her voice. "Oh, tell Master Hopkins he doesn't get the oxen until I've got a place to put the hay."
"Can't build without lumber and nails. And timber."
"I'll get it! You pass on my orders. Any free man shirking can pack his blanket and walk. As for the rest..." Ashley's eyes narrowed, and her tone assumed a thread of steel. "I've not used the cat-o'-nine yet..."
Joshua chawed his fresh wad of tobacco and shifted his feet. "Gonna be slow, Miss Ashley. Bad time of year for this to happen. Carpenter's got his hands full workin' on them hogsheads. Oronoco's got to be packed and—"
"I don't need you to remind me what has to be done with the tobacco, Joshua. You probably all know the new overseer arrived last night during the fire. His name's Kelt Saxon, Master Saxon to you. I expect his orders to be carried out the same as mine. You pass the word to the rest. If there's trouble, you'll answer to me personally." Ashley looked around at the others. "Master Saxon is to be obeyed. But if there's anything you don't understand, or if he tells you to do anything I've forbidden, you're to come to me. Understand?"
Murmurs of assent came from the bondmen. Joshua nodded. "Yes'm."
Ashley turned to Edgar. "Where did you put Scarlet?"
"In with the oxen, mistress. I put her and the colt together. "
Ashley sent a boy to fetch her burn ointment, then crossed the farmyard to the old log barn. She could have ordered one of the grooms to care for Scarlet's injuries, but she preferred to see to it herself. Servants had a way of forgetting annoying chores, and old Ash had taught her that the animals had to come first—even ahead of the workers.
"A man with blisters on his hands will complain," Ashley's grandfather had explained patiently, "but a horse can't. Before you know it, infection can set in and you can lose a valuable animal. If you want something done right, do it yourself."
A stableman mumbled a greeting as Ashley entered the shadowy building. He dropped the front leg of the ox he was tending and rubbed his hands on his coarse breeches. "Sugar's got a stone bruise. Noticed him favorin' his foot yesterday when we were movin' those timbers." He offered a bit of crumpled tobacco leaf to the animal and grinned when the broad tongue licked his palm clean.
Ashley walked down the center of the barn, speaking softly to the horses tied along the wall. A spotted ox turned his broad face toward her and bawled.
The bondman grinned. "It's dry in here and clean, if a mite crowded. Them oxen, they'd as soon get the horses out as we would. They don't like horses much."
Ashley stopped to pat the velvet nose of an unfamiliar horse. "Nice animal." The dappled-gray stood unafraid, allowing himself to be petted.
"Belongs to that new overseer. Particular about him he was, too. The horse's name is Falcon." He dropped an armload of hay in the feedbox. "Tells a lot about a man the way he keeps his horse."
The boy came in with the birchbark box of salve and delivered it to his mistress with a shy grin. Ashley thanked him and moved slowly to the mare and colt. "How are you doing, Scarlet?" The high-strung animal quivered, but allowed Ashley to run her hand along her back. "Feeling better?" Gently she began to apply the ointment.
Maybe having Saxon on the plantation would take some of the burden off her, Ashley thought. She decided to put him in charge of the work detail rebuilding the barn. She had to ride to Chestertown in a day or two. A planter over there was thinking of buying some sheep. If she sold some of her ewes, she wouldn't have to worry about feeding them through the winter.
The mare danced nervously, and Ashley whispered endearments to her. Saxon had been mad as a bee-stung bear when he'd found out he'd be working for a woman. She wondered if it had been wise to deal with him as bluntly as she had. She exhaled sharply. The Scot had disturbed her, made her uneasy, something that rarely happened when she was dealing with men. It was best if he learned who was master on Morgan's Fancy from the first!
She finished the treatment, then took a currycomb and began to brush Scarlet's rump and hindquarters. She had overreacted last night, and she knew it. She had blamed Kelt Saxon for the actions of other men, and she'd deliberately baited him. It wasn't like her to behave so unfairly. The man had come here in good faith, and she would gain nothing by making an enemy of him. Ashley patted the animal's neck; she'd give Scarlet a few weeks' rest before riding her again.
The colt pushed under Ashley's arm, sniffing her pockets for a sweet. Ashley scratched behind his ears. "It's time to put a halter on this colt, Daniel," she said.
"None left that small, mistress. Have to make one up special. Would take all afternoon," he warned. "I'm pretty busy today."
"Do it today, and be gentle when you put it on him."
The door creaked on its leather hinges. Ashley looked up to see the tall Scot stride into the barn. "Good morning," she said.
Kelt threw her a black look. "Mistress Morgan. I came to look after my horse." Catching Kelt's scent, the dappled-gray gelding gave a welcoming nicker.
"Guess I'll see about that halter," Daniel grumbled. With a bob of his head in Ashley's direction, he hurried out of the barn.
"My belongings are still in Chestertown. I sent one of the men to fetch them." Kelt crossed to the gelding and checked his water bucket. "At first he wasn't certain he should go without speaking to ye first. It's easy to see discipline is lax on Morgan's fancy."
Ashley stiffened. "A man's discipline, you mean?"
He shrugged. "Take it as ye will. The mon knew I was the new overseer, but he was still surly."
Ashley felt the heat of her inflamed cheeks. "You form opinions quick enough, Scot." She glared at him. "I've run this plantation well enough since my grandfather died. My men are used to taking orders from me. I hardly need criticism from an outsider who's not been here twenty-four hours." Tension knotted her insides. She was doing it again—overreacting to the man. What was it about him that touched off her temper every time she looked at him?
"An outsider ye admitted ye need," he reminded her. "It's nae a woman's place to run a tobacco plantation, and well ye know it. Ye canna ha' the strength or the authority to rule over men."
"Authority or intelligence?" she flared. "That's it, isn't it? You don't believe a woman possesses the mind to manage a tobacco plantation—or any mind at all, save that needed to pick out ribbons for her bonnet." Ashley's hands tightened into fists, and she pushed down an urge to slap his insolent face. "Let me assure you"—her voice dropped to a husky whisper—"that this woman has the intelligence and the authority. I run Morgan's Fancy, and don't you ever forget it."
"I think I can remember that, just as long as you remember not to undermine my authority with your people." He stroked his neatly trimmed beard thoughtfully. "And... since we're delivering ultimatums this morning, let me present a few. First, I'm verra good at what I do, and I give more than what ye can expect for what I'm being paid. During my personal time, I expect privacy. That includes Sundays. I paint on Sundays unless there's an emergency. No one is to go into my rooms for any reason. I clean up after myself and change my own linen." He lounged against the gelding's back.
"Second, I expect regular meals, hot and well prepared. I won't be shortchanged on my food. It doesna have to be fancy, but I won't eat that swill your girl set before me this morning." He grimaced. "Ye could have used that cornbread as mortar to build a new barn."
Ashley stared hard at her boots and tried to keep from smiling. The only cornbread in the kitchen this morning had been the pan of it Joan had baked three days ago, without salt, for chicken feed. Joan had her own ways of dealing with those above her station.
"And lastly," Saxon continued, "you and I will sit down together very soon and list my duties and responsibilities. That way we will both know where we stand. I have no intention of arguing with ye every morning over who gives what orders. Is that verra clear, Mistress Morgan?"
"And if I don't agree to your demands?" She could not keep the light of challenge from her eyes.
He grinned wolfishly. "Then ye can release me from the contract, can't you?"
And I'll do just that, as soon as the tobacco is safely on a ship bound for England. If they both agreed to cancel the contract, it could be done without her paying two years' salary, and without Saxon losing his credibility. "Surely you don't expect me to go into the kitchen and prepare your meals myself," Ashley soothed. "Joan's an honest girl, if not too bright. You just have to explain what you want prepared." She spoke slowly and distinctly, as though to a backward child. Richard would just have to find her a replacement next fall, she thought. She wouldn't need an overseer again until it came time to sell her tobacco. Having this arrogant Scot on her plantation for two years would be intolerable. "I believe we understand each—"
"Mistress!" Ashley was cut off by Edgar's entrance. His face was red from running. "They need you at the prize house. There's a fight! Short John and the new bondman! He said Short John's wife was a—"
"Never mind!" Ashley grabbed a saddle and blanket and threw them across the bay stallion's broad back, tightening the cinch and knotting the strap with a horseman's practiced hand. Edgar was ready with the bridle, and she forced it over Baron's tossing head.
"Wait!" Kelt protested. "I'll go." He began to saddle his dappled-gray.
"Come if you like, Saxon," Ashley called, vaulting into the saddle, "but hold your tongue until I ask for it." Ducking her head low over the bay's neck, she urged him out of the barn and across the yard at a gallop.
"How do I find the prize house?" Kelt asked as he mounted the gelding.
Edgar pointed. "Jest follow the lane to the river. That way."
The dappled-gray responded eagerly to Kelt's signal. Ashley's stallion already had a good lead, too good to catch unless she slowed the animal. Kelt slid a hand inside his vest to check his pistol. Why the hell hadn't she waited for me? "Damn you, woman," he muttered. A fight between rough laborers could well end in a killing. It was no place for a woman's tears or hysterics. He pulled his hat down low over his forehead and nudged his horse into a canter. Mud and water splashed the horse's legs, chest, and belly. "What the hell," the Scot murmured, then chuckled. "I can't get any wetter than I was last night."
Ahead, Ashley reined the bay
off the lane and through a stand of white pines. She leaned low over Baron's neck as they pushed their way through the low-hanging boughs. Branches caught her hood and pulled it off, letting cold water drip down the back of her neck, soaking her shirt and jacket. "Damn that stupid slut!" she said. Short John's wife had been nothing but trouble since the day the two had arrived on the plantation. She was a lazy good-for-nothing whose swaying hips and come-hither eyes had caused a half dozen fights among the men, and almost constant bickering among the women.
Short John and his wife had three and a half more years to go on their indenture. He was a passable worker when driven to it, but enough was enough. She'd sell their bond at the next possible opportunity. It was better being without the extra workers than putting up with fights and bickering.
Ashley was yanked from her thoughts when her horse's right foreleg slipped on the wet needles. She threw her weight to the left and pulled hard on the reins. "Easy boy," she cautioned. "We're almost out of the trees."
Taking the game trail through the woods would save her minutes over the dirt lane. Morgan's Fancy stretched from the Chesapeake to the Chester River, with two major creeks and several smaller ones deep enough to anchor an oceangoing ship weaving across her property. The prize house was located near the mouth of Maiden's Creek in a sheltered cove. It had its own dock, several cabins, and their dependencies. Two married men and their families lived there year round.
Baron trotted out of the trees and into an open meadow. The prize house lay just ahead, beyond a split-rail fence. Ashley urged the stallion into a canter as she remembered her new overseer. Kelt Saxon could deal with Short John's slatternly wife in the future! Let him unravel the dilemma. Doubtless it would help to keep him occupied and out of her affairs.
Laughing, Ashley rose in the saddle as the bay soared over the fence. A few strides beyond, and she was swinging out of the saddle in front of the prize house, the shouts of angry men loud in her ears.
Chapter 3
Bold Surrender Page 3
