Ransom of Love

by Al Lacy

  Russell Cobb sat Benjamin down on the porch of the mansion after hearing his story. Asking for his manumission papers to make sure he was a free man, Cobb said, “Young man, I’m sorry to tell you this, but I don’t have Dorena any more.”

  “Where is she?”

  “I sold her to a plantation owner friend of mine over in Louisiana. Name’s Laird Milburn.”

  Benjamin shook his head in frustration. “Why?”

  “Well, let me explain. I had sent a letter to Jock Webster, telling him I needed a new house slave for my wife. When he brought Dorena to us, my wife and I were taken with her beauty and sweet countenance. We were both concerned about the sadness we saw in her eyes, but we bought her anyhow, figuring we could make her happy.

  “Dorena did an excellent job for us, but she never cheered up. My wife tried to find out what was bothering her, but she wouldn’t say. As far as her work, there was nothing to complain about, but her sadness was hard to live with day after day. This went on for two full weeks. We knew it wasn’t going to work out. Then one day Laird Milburn was in the area and dropped by to see us. I told him about Dorena. He asked to see her and bought her immediately, saying she was perfect.”

  “Perfect for what?” Benjamin asked.

  “Well, it just so happened that Laird had been looking for just the right wife for his prize slave, Zanu, who is the son of an African tribal chief. When Laird laid eyes on Dorena’s beauty, he knew he had found the right one.”

  Benjamin’s stomach turned sour.

  “I felt good about selling her, because I figured this might be exactly what Dorena needed to erase the sadness in her eyes. You know … having this prime slave for her husband. I’m sorry, but I knew nothing about you. She must have given up that you would ever be able to find her.”

  “Mr. Cobb,” Benjamin said with shaking voice, “where is Mr. Milburn’s plantation?”

  “It’s near the town of Bogalusa, in eastern Louisiana. But you’re probably too late. They might already be married.”

  Benjamin thanked Cobb and left in the buggy as twilight closed in around him.

  At the Milburn plantation, three miles south of Bogalusa, Dorena lay on her cot in the small cabin she shared with three other young women. Moonlight flowed through the windows while her companions slept. For Dorena, sleep had come with difficulty ever since she had been sold by Lewis Moore to slave trader Jock Webster. She hadn’t even been able to tell her family good-bye.

  And now, here she was on the Milburn plantation with a wedding staring her in the face. Her skin crawled at the thought of the times she had been brought face-to-face with Zanu, in Master Laird’s presence, so they could get acquainted. Her heart belonged to Benjamin. It made her sick to think of being some other man’s wife. Her new owner had not set the day that she and Zanu were to wed, but she knew it would be soon.

  Dorena wiped tears as she thought of Benjamin, wondering what he had done when he arrived at the Moore plantation and learned that she had been sold.

  “Dear Lord,” she whispered, “I know that You are the great God of the universe. There is nothing You cannot do. I am begging You to please deliver me from this terrible situation and bring Benjamin and me back together. Please, dear Jesus. Please let Benjamin find me and take me with him before this horrible wedding takes place.”

  It was midmorning when Benjamin careened his buggy off the road and headed down the lane toward the Milburn plantation. As he drew near the mansion, he looked for slaves working about, but no one was in sight. He wondered where they had Dorena.

  Suddenly, a man with a revolver on his hip was hurrying down the steps of the mansion’s porch, waving his hands and shouting for Benjamin to stop.

  Benjamin drew rein and said, “Sir, my name is Benjamin Johnson. I have come to talk to Mr. Laird Milburn. Will you take me to him, please?”

  The overseer frowned. “What’s a slave doing with a horse and buggy?”

  Benjamin handed the man his papers.

  When the overseer handed them back, asking what Benjamin wanted to see Mr. Milburn about, he explained briefly about Charles Moore’s guarantee that he could purchase Dorena so he could marry her and showed the man the written document.

  As the overseer was digesting this information, Benjamin said, “Has the wedding taken place yet?”

  “No, not yet.”

  “May I see Mr. Milburn, please?”

  “He’s not here. And even if he was, you couldn’t see him. He has no time for this kind of thing. He bought Dorena to make her Zanu’s bride. That’s that. Now, you turn around and see how fast you can get off the property.”

  “Sir, I only ask for a bit of human kindness here, and—”

  The overseer drew his revolver, cocked it, and lined the muzzle on Benjamin’s face. “I said get off the property, and I mean it. Turn that buggy around right now and go! Or I’ll shoot you!”

  Despair washed over Benjamin as he looked down the black muzzle of the gun. In his heart he asked the Lord to do something for him quickly. He could not give up.

  Immediately, they heard the pounding of hooves and the rattle of a carriage. Benjamin looked behind him and saw a distinguished-looking man with silver hair sitting in the driver’s seat. Seconds later, the man drew the carriage to a halt, looked at Benjamin, then at the overseer, and said, “Mack, what’s going on here? Why are you pointing your gun at this man?”

  “He’s a free Negro, Mr. Milburn,” said Mack. “He came here to talk to you, and I told him you don’t have time. He got stubborn about it, so I put the gun on him and told him to leave. He’ll only be trouble.”

  “So what did he want to see me about, Mack?”

  When the overseer told his employer the story, Milburn looked at Benjamin and said, “I’m sorry about what happened at the Moore plantation, young man, but I have already told Zanu that Dorena will be his wife.”

  “Please, sir. Dorena loves me. She would not willingly marry another man.”

  Milburn smiled. “You’re right about that, son. She has been protesting vehemently about the wedding, saying she was promised to a free Negro man.”

  “Mr. Milburn,” Benjamin said, “I am asking for some human compassion. I am asking you to allow me to purchase Dorena so she can become my wife.”

  Chuckling, Milburn said, “Mack said you were going to pay Charles Moore 400 dollars for her. I paid Russell Cobb 500 dollars.”

  “Well, sir, I—”

  “She’s not for sale! She is to be Zanu’s bride.”

  Praying in his heart for God’s help, Benjamin said, “Sir, I am asking you to reconsider forcing her to marry Zanu. She is a slave. But as a human being, doesn’t she deserve some happiness?”

  Milburn studied him. “Tell you what. If you can cross my palm with 1,000 dollars right now, I’ll consider selling her to you.”

  Benjamin showed him the 250 dollars he had left, explaining about having to buy the horse and buggy. He knew he could get the other 750 dollars from his partner in Texas if Milburn would give him the time to get it. He was offering to give Milburn the 250 dollars as earnest money when they heard a loud roar of excited voices coming from behind the mansion.

  “The contest is already in progress, Mr. Milburn,” Mack Ottwell said.

  Looking that direction, Milburn grinned. “So how’s it going?”

  “Well, before I came out front to spell Luke Braden a few minutes ago, Zanu, Leonard, Cecil, and Bernard had eliminated eight other slaves. Cecil and Leonard are about to compete right now. Zanu will compete with the winner of that match, and then the champion will be declared.”

  Milburn grinned. “Mack, you and I both know Zanu is going to win.” Then turning to Benjamin, he said, “I like you, young man. Come with me.”

  Benjamin hopped out of the buggy and Mack Ottwell holstered his gun. Leaving Ottwell behind, Milburn ushered Benjamin toward the rear of the mansion. As they walked, Milburn explained that periodically the male slaves had a contest to see who co
uld lift the heaviest load of cotton bales onto a flatbed wagon. The winner got bragging rights until the next contest. Zanu had only been there for one previous contest and won it hands down. The other strong men had determined to beat him this time.

  “The reason I do this,” said Milburn, “is that the contest gives some excitement to the slaves and a little break from their work. They’re easier to handle for some time after a contest.”

  When they reached the back, Benjamin saw a crowd comprised of overseers and slaves of all ages gathered in a circle near one of the barns. His eyes searched for Dorena, but he couldn’t find her.

  “Well,” said Milburn as they drew near the wagon where two muscular slaves stood ready, “it looks like Cecil and Leonard are about to begin.”

  Benjamin saw that four large cotton bales had been tied together with ropes. The bales lay at the feet of the two contestants.

  For a moment, all eyes turned to the plantation owner and the husky black man at his side.

  Dorena was in the laundry room near the kitchen. She had been given the job as laundress for the Milburn family and was too busy to join the other slaves who were gathered outside, watching the contest.

  As she scrubbed sheets and bedding in a large galvanized tub, she wept, begging the Lord to deliver her from marrying Zanu. Salty tears dripped off her chin into the soapy water as she mindlessly scrubbed the bedding and listened to the roar of the crowd outside as they cheered the contestants.

  Soon she had the bedding in a tub of clear water and rinsed it out. Deciding to take a little break before she started washing clothing, she left the laundry room and stepped out on the back porch. Her line of sight went to Cecil and Leonard, who were about to vie with each other. The crowd was waiting with bated breath.

  Dorena’s gaze slowly left the two competitors and drifted to Laird Milburn. It was then her eyes settled on the tall, broad-shouldered man who stood beside Milburn. Even with his back toward her, she knew that form. An involuntary gasp escaped her lips. For a fraction of a second she was afraid she was hallucinating, then he turned his head a bit and Dorena saw his unmistakable profile.

  It was Benjamin in the flesh! He had come for her!

  Cecil bent over to grasp the bundle when suddenly a feminine squeal cut through the air, followed by the cry, “Benjami-i-in!”

  His head whipped around to see his beloved Dorena racing toward him from the rear of the mansion. She ran with open arms, and tears glistened on her cheeks as she repeated his name.

  Zanu stood with Bernard a few feet from where Cecil was about to lift the bales. His gaze flashed to Dorena, then to the stranger, and his eyes widened.

  Benjamin started toward Dorena, but Laird Milburn made a quick move, stepping in front of him. Immediately, two overseers were at Benjamin’s side, eyeing him warily.

  Milburn turned and pointed a stiff finger at Dorena. “Stop right there, girl!”

  When Dorena stopped, she was no more than ten feet from Benjamin.

  “Dorena,” said Milburn, “move back with the others.”

  Benjamin and Dorena stood spellbound for a few seconds, looking hungrily into each other’s eyes. Benjamin gave her a smile that warmed her all the way to her bare toes. Flicking a glance at Laird Milburn, she turned and walked to the edge of the crowd, wiping tears and silently sending a prayer of gratitude heavenward.

  From where he stood, Zanu—who was taller and heavier than Benjamin—scowled at him. Benjamin met his hard gaze but showed no emotion.

  Cecil still stood over the bundle, which lay some twelve feet from the flatbed wagon. Bare from the waist up, he flexed his muscles. They rippled and corded under his shiny black skin. Benjamin heard one of the overseers tell Milburn that the last contestants to be eliminated had tried to pick up three bales per bundle.

  Every eye was on Cecil as he hoisted the bundle waist-high and staggered toward the wagon, every muscle straining. When he started to lift it onto the bed, it fell short, and he dropped it.

  While moans of disappointment swept through the crowd, Cecil walked away, his head lowered in shame.

  Two slaves picked the bundle up and carried it back to the starting point. Leonard then hoisted it, staggering a little, but was able to put the bundle on the wagon bed to the cheers of the crowd.

  While the bundle was being placed at its original spot again, Zanu stood over it, flexing his muscles. He glanced at Benjamin and scowled again. Quickly, Zanu picked up the bundle and with seemingly little effort carried it to the wagon and laid it gently on the bed. The crowd cheered him.

  Bernard got the bundle about as far as Cecil had. It was now down to Leonard and Zanu. Another cotton bale was added to the bundle. Zanu flexed his up, carried it confidently to the wagon, and this time dropped it on the bed with a thud. The crowd cheered him.

  While the cheering was going on, Laird Milburn turned to Benjamin and said in a voice that only Benjamin could hear, “You look pretty strong to me. Do you think you can out-lift our champion?”

  “Possibly,” said Benjamin, wondering what the man had in mind.

  “Tell you what. I want you to compete with Zanu. Another bale will be added to the bundle. More bales will be added, if need be, until one of you loses. If you can out-lift Zanu, and will pay me 1,000 dollars for Dorena, you can have her. I’ll give you the time to go to Texas for the money.”

  The proposition momentarily stunned Benjamin. As he thought it over, Milburn studied the emotions crossing the young man’s face.

  “I’m a man of my word, Benjamin. You can count on me to uphold my end of the bargain.”

  Benjamin prayed in his heart for God’s help, then said to Milburn, “We have a deal.”

  “Okay. Warm up a little while I talk to Zanu.”

  Dorena watched as Milburn stepped to Zanu and Benjamin began working his arms, shoulders, and back to loosen them. A frown of puzzlement lined her brow.

  Standing close to Zanu, Milburn kept his voice low and told him the husky man was the one to whom Dorena was promised, and he had come to purchase her from him.

  Milburn then explained the contest he had set up, and told Zanu if he let the smaller man out-lift him, he would lose Dorena. She would be purchased by Benjamin Johnson.

  Zanu turned and looked at Benjamin. He gave him a mean look and from the side of his mouth said to Milburn, “He looks strong, but he cannot out-lift Zanu.”

  Milburn grinned and walked to the center of the circle of slaves and overseers to explain the contest between Zanu and Benjamin. A low murmur traveled through the crowd.

  “One more thing,” said Milburn so that all could hear. “If Zanu wins, there will be no recourse. The wedding between Zanu and Dorena will take place this evening!”

  Milburn’s words cut into Dorena’s heart. Zanu was so much bigger than Benjamin. Their entire future lay in the balance. She began praying, asking the all-powerful God to give Benjamin the strength to beat Zanu in the contest.

  The heavier bundle was now ready.

  Milburn told Benjamin to go first.

  Benjamin stepped to the bundle and worked his arms once more, sent a glance toward the one and only woman he would ever love, then spread his feet apart for the lift.

  DORENA WAS PARALYZED WITH FEAR as Benjamin grasped the bundle and lifted it waist-high. His legs remained perfectly steady as he carried the bales to the wagon, raised them above the level of the bed, and set them down softly.

  The slaves seemed hesitant to raise a cheer for Benjamin. Dorena knew why. Zanu had used his size and strength more than once to bully the other slaves.

  She breathed a tiny bit easier, then tensed up when Zanu matched Benjamin’s lift. She found her fingernails digging into her palms as another bale was added to the bundle, which not only added to its weight but made it more cumbersome.

  Both men were given a few minutes to rest, then Laird Milburn told Zanu to go first.

  Zanu leered at Benjamin, flexed his muscles once again, and picked up the bund
le. This time he staggered beneath the weight and had a hard time controlling it. The crowd looked on apprehensively as he reached the wagon, breathing hard, and strained to lift it high enough to place it on the bed. It only bumped the side of the wagon, and an oooh swept over the crowd.

  The veins in Zanu’s neck, shoulders, and biceps stood out like ropes as he tried again, straining every muscle in his body. But still he could not clear the wagon’s edge. In frustration, he dropped the bundle at his feet.

  There was dead silence from the crowd.

  Laird Milburn set eyes on Benjamin as two slaves grunted and pulled the bundle back to its starting point.

  Zanu stepped close to Benjamin and gave him the evil eye for a full five seconds, then turned away, still puffing from exertion.

  Benjamin prepared to make his lift.

  Dorena’s hands went to her mouth. Please, God, give him strength in great measure. Holding her breath, and willing strength into him, she watched as he closed his eyes. She knew he was praying. Then Benjamin took hold of the bundle and hoisted it, and headed for the wagon.

  When he reached it, he had the same problem Zanu had experienced. The bundle bumped the side of the wagon but it seemed impossible to get it high enough to place it on the bed.

  The crowd was hardly breathing as they waited.

  Benjamin’s mind went to Dorena. The love he had for her was strong. He could not let Zanu have her. With a prayer in his heart, he reached down inside himself to depths yet untouched and gave an upward jerk.

  The bundle landed on the wagon bed with a solid thump.

  Dorena’s knees went weak and she exhaled her pent-up breath.

  Breathing hard, Benjamin turned and gave her a loving, triumphant grin.

  A wide smile suddenly graced Dorena’s lips and her eyes lit up with love for him.

  No one cheered for Benjamin, but the crowd stood in awe. While the defeated Zanu looked on, Milburn took Benjamin and Dorena into a nearby tool shed.