A Slave of the Shadows, page 14
I RODE LIKE THE WIND. The adrenaline pumped through my body as my horse galloped across the valleys and hills of the countryside. There were no boundaries to confine us. My hair hung loose under my hat. I held tight to my horse’s mane, riding bareback in a pair of Father’s trousers. I laughed to myself as I envisioned the veins popping on his forehead if he could see me now.
I slowed my mare to a trot. “That’s a girl,” I said, stroking her neck.
Weeks had passed since Georgia and Sam left on the Olivia II. In a newspaper I found on Father’s desk dated a few days after their escape, I read a reward notice submitted by their master. I grew more determined with each passing day to help my fellow humans. I had found my calling in life, and I would do whatever it took to answer it. I would not sit idle and do nothing.
Jimmy never spoke a word to me about what I had done. I wanted to shield him from discovery of his involvement, so I left things between us unsaid.
I hadn’t seen Knox since we said our goodbyes on the dock. He’d helped us once, but it didn’t mean we could count on him in the future. My growing concern was that Knox would inform Bowden of our deeds. Bowden’s and my friendship was on delicate ground, and trust had yet to be established. The fewer people who knew our secret, the better.
The sound of someone approaching on horseback snapped me out of my thoughts. I shielded my eyes from the sun so I could see who was riding toward me.
Speak of the devil. Bowden!
He reined in his stallion and flashed me a friendly smile. “Good afternoon, Willow.”
“Hello, Bowden.” I returned his smile.
“Out for a ride?” He peered at my riding attire.
“Yes, there is nothing like a morning ride.” I knew I was a sight to be seen in the too-big trousers. Women wearing men’s apparel was frowned upon. But it wasn’t my first time, and it surely wouldn’t be my last. The trousers allowed me to ride more freely.
“How is your brother, Stone? He must be getting big now.”
“Stone started his tutoring abroad this year. He is thirteen now and I want him to have all the opportunities possible. He is a good boy with a tender heart. I don’t know if the South is right for him.” Bowden’s voice held sincere concern for his brother.
Bowden had grown into a respectable businessman, and he was a good and decent human. He wasn’t overly handsome, but more a man of average looks. No longer was he a young, mischievous boy, but a man who took my breath away.
How had I allowed this to happen? The walls I built up to protect myself were crumbling. For too long I’d carried anger because a young Bowden Armstrong had broken my heart along with my pride with his childhood prank. I’d always known this, but had never wanted to admit it to myself.
As I looked at him now, I tried to still the butterflies in my stomach. His hand rested lightly on his thigh, and his other held the slack reins. My heart was telling me to stay, but my head urged me to run. I quieted the voice in my head warning me to flee.
“Some days, I wonder if the South is for me,” I said solemnly.
“So I hear.”
My heart stopped. He knows!
“Knox?”
He nodded. “Knox told me of the cargo you sent out on one of the ships bound for New York.”
“I see,” I said grimly, my eyes searching his face. He sat composed and unreadable. “Well, I’m going to go so far as to say you never reported us?”
He stared directly into my eyes and I held his gaze, unmoving. “Willow, I…I am not against what you did. I know those slaves’ story. I guessed your views long ago. My concern is that you will get caught. I don’t want any harm coming to you.” He looked away, but not before I saw the worry on his face.
“I appreciate your concern, Bowden.” I meant that.
“I want you to know you have a friend in me, Willow,” he confided, moving his horse close enough to take my hand.
I commanded my body to stay perfectly still, but feelings of vulnerability made me retreat to my place of comfort. “I am grateful for your friendship, truly I am.” I gave him a small smile, gently retrieving my hand.
“That gives my heart great happiness.” Reining his horse around toward his plantation, he looked at me one more time and said, “I like us like this, Willow.”
“Me too.” My smile widened as I realized how much easier we were together.
“Why don’t you and Whitney join Knox and me this week? We could tour the countryside and maybe take a ride by the ocean.”
“That would be nice. I’ll discuss it with Whitney.”
“Very well; until then.” He tipped his hat.
I nudged my horse toward home.
BOWDEN AND KNOX RODE INTO Livingston around midmorning.
“Morning, ladies,” Knox called, waving his hat in the air. He was obviously in high spirits.
I waved back from our seat on the porch swing. Whitney just watched them, her expression reserved.
Bowden’s face was hidden in the shadows of his tan-colored hat. His wavy locks shone briefly in the sunlight as he tipped his hat. “Ladies.”
The men slipped from their saddles and we went to meet them.
Jimmy rounded the side of the house with our horses in tow. He handed me the reins. His intelligent hazel eyes caught and held mine. I knew what he was thinking. I gave his hand a secret squeeze. Jimmy was too wise and caught on to my inner thoughts. He told me once, “Dat boy done gone and bruised your pride, gal, dat is all. You let your guard down and you’ll find he’s a good man. He’s not jus’ any white man. I see how he luks at you all dese years. Dat boy’s got et bad.” I paid him no mind and had even gone as far as thinking he might have touched the bottle that day.
Lately, I had begun to think maybe Jimmy was right. Bowden might be different from the rest of the males I’d met. I respected no man in this world, Jimmy being the exception. Trust didn’t come easy for me. Could I allow my heart to trust this man who stirred feelings in me?
I glanced across the top of my saddle and saw Bowden’s keen eyes witnessing the exchange between Jimmy and me. Ignoring him, I adjusted my stirrups. As I prepared to mount, Bowden stepped up, offering me a hand. When I took it, its warmth sent a frisson of pleasure through me.
We spent the next hour riding the countryside until the ocean came into view. We tied our horses to nearby trees and gazed out at the blue water stretching for as far as the eye could see. I moved away from the men, and Whitney followed. I sat down and untied my shoes, then removed them and my stockings. Proper or not proper, I was going to enjoy this day. Time spent in this relaxing environment was too short, in my opinion.
Whitney stood above me, contemplating my actions. I looked up at her. “Well, I’m not coming to the ocean without dipping my toes. Whitney, you of all people are worried about what people will think? Besides, there is no one around for miles.”
No more pondering needed. Whitney plopped down beside me and started removing her footwear. “Your father would have you locked away for this, Willow,” she commented mildly.
“I want to be free, Whitney. What harm is there in showing our toes?” I tucked my stockings into my footwear.
“There isn’t, but if prying eyes were around, this would stir up some gossip. You know how people are. And you are the one of the two of us that has a chance at something good in life.”
“Since when do you care about idle gossip, Whitney Barry?”
“I don’t.” She smiled.
“Well, today I don’t either.”
We laughed and, throwing propriety aside, walked over to join the men.
Together we strolled the shoreline. Conversation flowed effortlessly amongst us. Whitney and Knox soon fell behind, leaving Bowden and me walking together. We walked without talking. I loved how the soft, sugary grains of sand squeezed between my toes. The ocean was the most peaceful place on earth. The silence between us seemed natural in a place so serene.
Bowden spoke first. “The relationship between you and your slave, Jimmy—how does your father see it?”
I stopped and turned toward him as I tried to determine his intent. Seeing no ill will in his open expression, I walked on, taking another few moments before I replied. “Jimmy is more than a slave to me. I neither care about his bloodline nor his race. He is the one man in my life I trust. He has shown me constant love and support.”
“Willow, words like those could be the end of you.”
“You are right, Bowden. For Jimmy’s sake, I must keep my feelings under wraps.”
“What of your sake?”
“I am working on reining in my openness. I am aware I need to avoid drawing attention to my views.”
“Your fondness for this slave is dangerous in the presence of the wrong people.”
“I’m beginning to understand that.” Even amongst friends, I needed to be more careful, because who knew who was watching? I had so much to learn.
“You’re not a careless woman. But remember, everyone isn’t always as they appear.”
“You make a valid point, and I shall heed it.”
I found myself enjoying Bowden’s company, the more time I spent with him. It was as if he had read my thoughts when he said, “This is refreshing.” Stopping, he placed his hands on my shoulders and turned me to him. He gazed long into my eyes. “I’ll spend a lifetime making it up to you, Willow.” His fingers on my shoulders rubbed back and forth.
This closeness felt so good and so right. No warning came to my head as I considered this man before me. My heart cried, Yes, spend a lifetime making it up to me. I wouldn’t mind that at all. I unchained the feelings I had carried for him since childhood. Bowden didn’t seem to be such a threat anymore. Was this the start of something more?
All too soon, he released my shoulders. Strangely saddened, I stepped back to put a comfortable distance between us, and we resumed our stroll.
Now I wanted to understand more about Bowden Armstrong. “Do you think you will ever leave Charleston?”
“I used to think of it, but then my grandfather died, and the plantation and Stone became my responsibility. Why do you want to leave?”
“Let’s sit for a while,” I said.
He obliged, stretching his legs out and leaning back on the palms of his hands. I sat down beside him and drew my knees up, wrapping my arms around them. I rested my chin on top. “Sometimes, I feel like this way of life is swallowing me up. And the relationship between Father and I has always been strained. I’m scared to be in the same room with him.” I sighed. “I want to run as far away as possible from Livingston. But other times, I truly love my home. I believe I’m meant to be here. Maybe my calling in life is to be a voice for the slaves.” I cast a glance at him.
His jaw was clenched. He never turned to look at me but said, “You need to tread lightly, Willow.” He picked up a handful of sand and let it run through his fingers.
“We have discussed this already, Bowden,” I said, irritated.
He shifted to face me. Reaching out, he pulled one arm from my knees and took my hand in his. My heart skipped a few beats as I looked at him. In a gentle voice, he said, “Because you matter to me, Willow. You always have.”
I couldn’t breathe; I started to panic inside. I was vulnerable to this man again and it terrified me. “Bowden…I…” I gulped.
Whitney and Knox’s timing was impeccable. I pulled my hand back as they approached and rose, grateful that the awkward moment had been broken. I did not dare look at Bowden; I knew my reaction wasn’t what he wanted, and I was too much of a coward to look him in the eyes.
Whitney picked up on the tension and cheerfully said, “I’m starving.”
“Well, I say let’s eat.” Knox smiled fondly at Whitney.
Suddenly famished, I eagerly agreed.
We returned to the horses. Knox retrieved the picnic lunch they had prepared. Whitney and I spread out the blanket tied to the back of Bowden’s horse. Bowden unpacked the cheese, fresh bread, dried meat, and fruit they had brought, along with a bottle of wine and glasses. As we ate, the awkwardness I’d created faded away and we became four friends engaging in free-flowing conversation about our lives. It was the beginning of an unbreakable friendship.
On the ride home I sorted out the afternoon in my mind. For the first time in life, I belonged. In those three, I’d found loyal and trustworthy comrades.
CHRISTMAS WAS AROUND THE CORNER, and the plantation hummed with anticipation. The Christmas season was my favorite time of the year. At Livingston, we hosted the most extravagant banquet in the county. People came from near and far to attend. I spent months planning for the banquet and put my heart and soul into every detail. Father allowed me free rein with the planning and gave me an unlimited budget. It was important to me to make Christmas memorable for every guest who visited.
The slaves and I decorated the mansion in holly and greenery, from the pillars marching along the front of the house to the spiral staircase, and the fireplace mantel in every room.
Our slaves’ faces shone with a joy and excitement matching my own. They’d replaced their usual songs with Christmas carols, and I heard them throughout the plantation. My spirit soared. Each year at Christmas, Father made sure all the slaves received two sets of new clothes along with two pairs of new shoes. I ensured each slave received a special, more frivolous gift, be it new hair ties or perfume for the women, pipes, tobacco, and cigars for the men, and toys for the children. Everyone received some molasses candy wrapped with their gifts. I found personal delight in making the rounds to hand out the gifts. Giving is the greatest pleasure in life and the glee on their faces was beyond rewarding. Mammy, Mary Grace, and I would tear up the kitchen making Christmas treats and traditional dishes. These are my fondest memories.
This crisp morning before Christmas Eve, the three of us were baking in the kitchen house. I was up to my wrists in flour and daydreaming of spending these moments with my own mother. I considered how my life would have been with her in it—having her to go to about things that troubled my heart; sharing with her how my heart ached over Father’s rejection of me; seeking her advice on my growing feelings for Bowden—
“Penny for your thoughts.” Mary Grace tossed a sprinkling of sugar at me from the mixture in her bowl.
The sweet dust brushed the side of my face and I smiled at her. “I was thinking how grateful I am for you and Mammy. And I was thinking about my own mother and what it would be like if she were here.”
“She’d be mighty proud of you, chile.” Mammy beamed at me.
“Do you think?” I asked in a voice tinged with longing, searching her eyes.
The kitchen went quiet, as if a thick blanket had settled over us.
“Angel gal, your mama be jus’ lak you.”
“How, Mammy? How are we alike?” I begged, desperate for more information on the woman who was but a phantom to me. Never had I so much as seen a portrait of her—not even her handwriting. Was it Father’s intention to erase her existence from the earth?
“She is in your smile. Dose dark green eyes and dat silky dark mane of yours is de image of your mama. Like luking in a mirror.”
“Oh, Mammy!” This knowledge thrilled me. “What else, Mammy?”
But Mammy stiffened and ran a hand across the back of her neck. “Dat be all, chile,” she said, becoming tight-lipped.
Confused, I wanted to besiege her with questions, but I knew Mammy, and the firm set of her jaw meant I would get no further. I glanced at Mary Grace, who shrugged and smiled as if to say, “I’m sorry.” I glared at Mammy’s back as she turned away. I was done living in the dark about my mother. I was determined to get answers, in whatever way it took to get them.
THE SWEET, WONDROUS SOUND OF a harp drifted up to my room. I could hear the merry voices of my guests filtering up from below. Mary Grace was applying the finishing touches to my hair. She’d swept it up on top of my head and a mass of loose ringlets dangled down the back of my neck. I’d selected a stunning gold silk gown that accented my olive complexion. The off-the-shoulder gown exposed my shoulders, and the neck scooped low in a heart-shaped design. Mary Grace clasped a diamond necklace around my neck and its large emerald pendant nestled just above my breasts. I stood and regarded myself in the mirror and smiled, pleased with my appearance. Tonight I felt beautiful. Mary Grace held out the elbow-length gloves and I slipped them on and turned toward the door.
Thaddeus appeared in the doorway. “Miss Willow, your guests are arriving, and your father requests your presence.”
“Please let him know I’ll be right down.”
“Yes, Miss.” He bowed and left.
I took one last look in the mirror and smiled at the woman staring back at me, then swept out of my room.
I descended to the landing overlooking the grand main floor and paused to observe the guests. Mary Grace stopped a few feet behind me. She, along with all the female servants serving tonight, was dressed in a royal blue gown trimmed in silver—garments fit for any Southern belle. The male servants wore sophisticated black tailcoats and pants.
My ears picked up Whitney’s voice, carrying throughout the room. I caught sight of her, cocktail in hand, conversing with a circle of guests including Bowden, Knox, Josephine, and Lucille. Bowden glanced up and caught my eye as I descended the stairs. His eyes lit up and his approving gaze followed my descent. I blushed beneath his intense stare. Knox and Whitney, seeing they had lost Bowden, turned to see what had stolen his attention.
I stopped to greet a few guests who stepped up to kiss my cheek and wish me a merry Christmas. Whitney boldly cut through the crowd to get to me, and pulled me to their merry little group.
“Willow, you are stunning, as usual,” Knox said with a half-bow.
“Thank you, Knox. You look dashing yourself.” His red cravat stood out nicely against his black tailcoat.
