Brides of Arizona, page 38
“Mrs. Sawyer will be expecting me. I need to get back to her.” Lavette eased to one side.
“Wait.” Josiah’s command halted her. His huge fingers cupped her face, lifting until she looked at him. “We have to talk. Maybe now isn’t the time. I’ll come by this evening after you put your mistress to bed. We can discuss this on the porch.”
She could see the compassion in his eyes. His touch warmed her, banishing thoughts of Mead and his associates. Tears clogged her throat. She blinked and nodded. Telling her story was too painful, but for some reason, she felt confiding in Josiah would help. Maybe he would understand why they had no future. Before she came to care for him more than she already did, she should tell him the truth. Then he would leave and never see her again.
Josiah stopped in the shadow of a paloverde tree as he turned onto the path leading up to Lavette’s house. He could see her seated on the porch, her head bent over her mending. Clenching his fists, he recalled the fright in her eyes when she barreled into him while being chased by Bertrand Mead. At the time, he hadn’t known what he wanted more—to beat Mead to pulp or to hold and protect Lavette. In the end, common sense won. Although she fought like a tiger at first, his arms well remembered the feel of her trembling against him once she’d realized who held her.
After Mead left and she’d calmed down, he’d walked her home. Lavette insisted he didn’t have to do that, but he wouldn’t have trusted Mead not to sneak around and meet up with her. Of course, he hadn’t suggested that to Lavette. He wouldn’t want to scare the poor girl more than she already was.
He admired her spirit. As he’d pointed out to his friends, she’d been born a slave, and that’s all she’d known until the war ended. Having been raised in the North by parents who’d been set free, Josiah had never been a slave, but he’d heard plenty of stories. Even as a child, a beautiful girl like Lavette would have caught the attention of the male owners of the plantation. He gritted his teeth. What had she endured that made her so afraid?
All afternoon, as he worked, Josiah hadn’t been able to banish the thoughts of Mead and his words about Lavette belonging to Mrs. Sawyer. How could that be? He’d tried to think of every way he could imagine, but nothing made sense. There were no more slaves in the States, and that’s where Mrs. Sawyer and Lavette came from.
Lavette glanced up from her sewing and started when she noticed him. Josiah strode forward, not wanting her to think him someone else in the fading light. If all she saw was the outlined figure of a man, she could easily mistake him for someone who would frighten her. That would never do.
“Good evening, Miss Johnson.” The boards of the porch creaked under his weight.
“Evenin’.” Lavette seemed to huddle deeper into the chair, her hands clutching the mending against her breast. She appeared to want to run rather than talk to him.
Walking quietly to avoid bothering Mrs. Sawyer, Josiah was surprised to see a second chair waiting beside the vine-covered trellis on the other side of Lavette. She must have brought the chair out after he’d walked her home today. Josiah couldn’t hide the grin of satisfaction in knowing she might have looked forward to seeing him at least a little. He sank into the chair and faced her, drinking in her beauty before the light faded. He knew he would never tire of watching Lavette Johnson.
“Did you have a lot of work today?” Her soft, Southern accent thrilled him. She picked at the loose thread on the garment in her lap.
“This afternoon I went out to the fort again to do some more horses for Conlon. I fixed a buggy wheel for Doc Meyer and did a few other odd jobs.” Josiah eased to one side of the chair to avoid a knot in the wood that poked his back. He didn’t want to make small talk. He wanted answers to his questions, but now that he was here, he hesitated to force Lavette to talk. She seemed so frightened, and he didn’t know why.
“Have you eaten? I could fix you something, or we have some dried apple pie if you’d like a piece.”
“I already ate, but I never turn down apple pie.” Josiah’s mouth began to water at the thought.
Lavette jumped up. The thread clattered to the porch floor and rolled to a stop by Josiah’s boot. They both reached for the spool at the same time. Lavette’s slender fingers closed over Josiah’s. She glanced up, her eyes wide. Jerking away, she straightened. Josiah picked up the thread and handed it to her.
Holding tight to the spool, Josiah caught Lavette’s hand as she reached out. “I’d love a piece of your pie, but this won’t keep me from asking what I want to know. Why does Mead think he can own you? The war ended nine years ago. Slaves were set free. I want to know why you’re so afraid he’ll get control over you.”
Lavette tugged her hand free. “I don’t care if the war is over. I’ll never be liberated. I’m still in bondage and always will be.” She turned and rushed into the house, letting the door slam behind her.
Chapter 8
Lavette’s hands shook as she lifted the generous slice of pie from the tin. How could she have acted that way toward Josiah? He only wanted to help her. He cared, while most people in her life didn’t. She blinked back tears as she poured a cup of coffee. This was the reason she hadn’t wanted to get to know Josiah. She didn’t want to lose her heart to a man she couldn’t marry. She picked up the pie and coffee, trying to keep from sloshing the liquid. Was she too late? Had she already lost her heart to this gentle giant?
The evening breeze carried a welcome hint of cool, wiping the traces of tears from Lavette’s eyes as she stepped through the door. Josiah still sat in the chair, bent forward, his arms resting on his knees. Head bowed, he looked as though he were praying, although not a sound issued from him. Lavette recalled the times her papa and mama prayed together. They hadn’t been quiet.
The porch creaked. Josiah raised his head. The anguish in his eyes tore at her heart. She longed to tell him everything would work out fine. She’d been in servitude most of her life and adjusted to the idea. Most of the time, belonging to someone else didn’t bother her. The only time she’d lived differently had been a miserable period in her life. Remaining enslaved had been her choice, a decision she rarely regretted as she recalled the good her sacrifice had done for her mother.
“Here’s your pie, and I brought you a cup of coffee.” His fingers brushed against hers as he accepted the plate and cup. Lavette couldn’t help the tremor of delight that raced up her arm.
“Thank you.” Josiah set the mug on the porch beside his chair. He leaned back and placed the pie on his massive leg as if the appendage were a table. He left the sweet untouched as he crossed his arms over his chest.
“I’d like to hear why you think you’re still a slave. I can understand it would be hard to discuss, but we need to talk.”
“Why?”
“Because I care what happens to you. I don’t want you to be afraid every time you walk down the street, thinking you might end up belonging to someone like Mead.”
Lavette shuddered. She rubbed her arms. She couldn’t look at Josiah, but stared at the black gleam of his coffee. “I can’t tell you without relating how this happened. It’ll take too long.”
“I’ve got time.” Josiah rested his ankle on top of his knee, leaning back farther into the chair. He picked up the pie and cut a bite, chewing like he had forever to sit on this porch. “Why don’t you start by telling me about your family.”
“My mama and papa were slaves on the Wild Oak plantation in Alabama. I was born about the same time as Miss Susannah, the owner’s daughter. Since we were the same age, I became her playmate. She had four older brothers, but no sisters.” Lavette twisted her fingers together in her lap.
“Some people thought I had it easy because I didn’t have to work in the fields.” Terror rose up like bile in her throat. “I can’t tell you how many times I wanted to be in the fields and away from the horrors of the house.”
She glanced up to see Josiah holding the still-unfinished pie. His look held compassion and knowing. He’d probably heard the tales of what happened to girl slaves when they were at the mercy of their masters’ whims. She rubbed her arms again, hoping he would think the evening air caused the chill.
“Did you get to stay with your folks? I know a lot of children were separated from their families.”
“I think I was kept at the plantation because of being Miss Susannah’s playmate. My two older brothers and one older sister were sold off before they were half-grown. That like to broke my mama’s heart.”
“Did you find them after the war?” She could hear the anguish Josiah was trying to hold back.
“My papa tried to find them, but he couldn’t. I have a younger brother and two younger sisters. Papa didn’t have much time to go off looking for the lost ones when he also had to feed all of us.”
“Where are your parents now?”
Feeling cool air on her cheeks, Lavette reached up to wipe away the tears with the back of her hand. “Alabama. Papa’s job at Wild Oak was in the stables. He has a knack for working with horses.” She drew a shaky breath.
“At the end of the war, Papa worked hard to provide for us. Mama grew a garden, and Papa found what jobs he could. Out in the country, there weren’t many. Most of the plantation owners were ruined. No one could afford to hire Papa or Toby, my brother, to work for them very often. Papa finally found a job on a big farm. It wasn’t much different than being a slave. The landowner didn’t pay enough, but he allowed us to get what we needed from his store on credit. Papa tried hard to keep from doing that. He didn’t want to be indebted to anyone. We were barely gettin’ by when Mama had the accident.”
Lavette stared down at the mending in her lap. Josiah’s hands engulfed hers, warming them, offering her comfort. She had no idea when he’d moved closer.
“What happened?”
“We were in town getting a few things. I had to watch Lila and little Nellie while Mama crossed the street to get to the tanner’s. Mama stepped into the street to come back over just as a man in a buggy whipped around the corner.” Lavette’s throat closed. The memory filled her with horror all over again.
“Did she get trampled?”
Lavette shook her head. “No, the buggy tilted, catching my mama and throwing her to one side like a rag doll.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “I can still see the look of horror on her face. I can hear the driver yell as he jumped away, hitting his head against a watering trough. The horses’ ears were laid back, its eyes wild. My mama didn’t have a chance.”
Pulling a hand free, Lavette covered her mouth. “We heard later the driver died. The doctor said Mama was lucky to have been hit by the wagon instead of being run over. She had a broken arm, some broken ribs, and bruises, but she was unconscious for days. We didn’t think she would ever wake up. When she did, she couldn’t recall what happened. Sometimes I didn’t think she really remembered us.
“For a long time, Papa couldn’t work enough to feed us. I tried to find food in the woods. A few others tried to help us, but most people we knew were as bad off as we were. There were many nights when the baby, Nellie, would cry herself to sleep because she was so hungry. I thought we would all starve. Papa couldn’t let that go on, so he began to borrow from the store. We got deeper and deeper in debt.”
Josiah’s callused hands rubbed hers with a gentle, soothing motion. His quiet strength seemed to give her enough courage to continue.
“One day, Michael Sawyer came to see us. We’d almost given up hope. Food was so scarce, I didn’t know what we would eat the next day.” Lavette drew in a shaky breath. “It turned out that Mr. Sawyer’s son-in-law was responsible for the accident. When he heard what happened, Mr. Sawyer felt beholden to find us and try to make things right. The problem was, he didn’t have much after the war, either. While he was talking to Papa, I came home from foraging in the woods. He said he had an idea and told Papa he would return the next day.”
For several minutes, Lavette sat in silence, unable to continue. Josiah’s thumb rubbed the palm of her hand. “What did he do?”
“He said his mother needed someone to work for her. His mother, Mrs. Sawyer, had some health problems. The doctors thought she would improve if she moved north to get away from the damp air. Her brother up North would help her, but she needed someone to go along to care for her.”
“Lavette, being a servant isn’t at all like being a slave. You’re free to quit and find work somewhere else.”
“That’s what her son feared. To keep me from quitting and leaving her alone, he offered me a contract similar to an indentured servant’s. He would give my father enough money to pay off his debt. Papa would be able to move to the city, where he could find better work. In fact, Mr. Sawyer had a friend in the city looking for a good man to take charge of his livery. He promised medical help for Mama, too.” She drew in a shaky breath. “He also said I would earn a small monthly wage.”
“What did your father do?”
“He turned him down. He said he’d watched three of his children be sold off, and he wouldn’t sell his own daughter, not for any amount of money. Mr. Sawyer said he would give us some time to think about it and would return in a couple of days.”
Josiah’s knees brushed hers. He leaned forward, his body and his face betraying his tension.
“Mama still wasn’t strong. The girls were old enough to start helping out, though. I couldn’t let Papa turn down such a generous offer. I waited until everyone except the two of us was sleeping. Then I told him that I chose to become Mrs. Sawyer’s servant. That way, he wouldn’t be selling me off. I would be offering my services. I begged him to let me do this for him and Mama. They could go to the city and get a better job. Maybe Mama could even get some help for the headaches she continued to have.”
“But you couldn’t have been very old.” Josiah cleared his throat and blinked.
“I wasn’t too old, only seventeen. Living as a slave, a person grows up fast. Some girls were married by that age. I’d been caring for my brother and sisters for a long time. Since Mama had been sick, I’d pretty much run the house.” She didn’t object when Josiah rested his forehead against their joined hands.
“When Mr. Sawyer came back, I told him I’d take care of his mama, but I couldn’t do it until my family had paid their debts and moved to the city. He gave Papa the money right away and gave us the address of a man he knew who wanted to hire Papa. It didn’t take long to pack up the meager belongings we had. Within a few days, I was a slave once more.” She shrugged and gave a small smile. “Oh, I know this is a little different. I had a choice, but still I’m not free to decide what I want to do.”
“How much longer is left on your contract?”
“I signed the contract for ten years. I have two years left. There’s no way of knowing where I’ll be then. Mrs. Sawyer only made plans to stay here for six to eight weeks. She wants to return back East. If she does that, I’ll have to accompany her.”
Night had fallen. Lavette grimaced, knowing she’d done most of the talking. This was the first time she’d told anyone the whole story. For the last eight years, she hadn’t had a friend to confide in. She didn’t want to think why she felt so comfortable with Josiah when she’d only known him such a short time. In her heart, she felt she’d known him forever. After all, he was the image of the handsome stranger who swept her off her feet in her childhood dreams.
A pack of coyotes began to sing their nightly chorus. The unearthly yips escalated, the voices of the younger coyotes making a sharp contrast with the more mature adults. Lavette knew many people hated the sound, but she found the cries a sign of freedom. Even the wild animals had more independence than she did. They could lift their muzzles and howl as much as they wanted, and no one could do a thing.
Josiah sighed. “I thought being an indentured servant wasn’t done anymore—hadn’t been done since the last century. I can’t believe this.”
Pulling her hand free, Lavette touched his cheek, making him look at her. His dark eyes swam with unshed tears.
“I felt a little bitter at first.” She knew she had to make him understand. “Then I would remember that I helped my family by doing this. Who knows what would have happened to us if we had to continue on where we were? The last time I saw them, my mama was back to running the house. Papa loves working with horses again.” She smiled. “I think you and Papa would get along well. You both have that interest in common.”
He leaned his cheek against her hand, but she pulled back. “My only regret is that I can’t have a relationship with anyone. I can be your friend for a short time, but that’s all.” Her heart begged him to understand what she was saying.
“But your family.” Josiah’s brow creased in a frown. “Don’t you miss them?”
“Of course. Don’t you miss your family?”
He nodded. “I guess I see your point. That isn’t a good argument. I find that I want to get angry and say this isn’t right.”
“There’s no need to fret.” Lavette stood and stretched, arching her back to ease the ache. “I’ve come to terms with freedom, or the lack of it. Even when my time with this contract is up, I have the feeling I still won’t be delivered. Something will happen. I don’t know what, but I can feel it.”
She picked up Josiah’s discarded plate and cup. “We all have burdens to bear, and mine is being a bondwoman to some master or mistress. I can live with that. I have to.”
Backing toward the door, she hoped he would leave. Her stomach ached from holding back her emotions. She wanted to lie on her bed in the dark where no one could hear her and cry. Talking to Josiah brought up the resentment she’d buried. She hadn’t told him the truth. She would never get over the idea of being a slave and the indignation accompanying that. Inside, she would always long for freedom—even if she never found it.
“Wait, Lavette.” Josiah reached her in two quick steps. “Let me pray with you about this. God didn’t bring you all the way out here for no reason. He has a purpose, and I believe His purpose involves the two of us.”
