Godsend (Hell Yeah! Heritage), page 3
“Jolie, we can no longer tolerate your presence at Oak Hill.”
She had been summoned to her grandmother’s sitting room where Dora and Lisette waited with stony expressions on their faces. Jolie’s eyes roved around the room. Even though she’d been at Oak Hill for several years, she still missed the little bungalow where the colors were bright and love had set the tone.
“What do you mean?”
Her mind had heard the words Grandmother Dora had spoken, but she was having a hard time processing them.
“You’re no longer welcome here.”
Her heart began to pound in her chest. “Where will I go?” Was she supposed to just walk away? What would she do?
“We’ve made arrangements. Our family has spent a lot of money on your upkeep, we’ve found a way to be recompensed for at least some of those expenditures.”
Jolie didn’t understand. “Where’s Charlotte?” Charlotte would help her. Charlotte would stand up for her.
“Charlotte is away for a few days. We’ve sent her to visit my sister in New Orleans,” Lisette explained in an impatient tone.
“I’m afraid. You’re scaring me,” Jolie cried, seeing no sympathy or give on either her grandmother’s or her aunt’s face.
A tap on the door made her jerk around.
“Come in,” Dora called.
Someone stepped into the room, a man Jolie didn’t recognize. An unkempt man with long gray whiskers. “Is this the slave?” A sickly smile came over his face.
“Ah, Mr. Coffi. So good of you to come. Yes, this is Jolie.”
“I’m not a slave.” Jolie stated what she thought was obvious. “I’m free.” She’d always been free. “My father was John Belmont.”
Coffi walked over and spat into a spittoon. “Don’t matter who your father was. If you ain’t white, you ain’t nothin’.”
The rest of what happened was a blur. Jolie’s mind simply shut down.
She was torn from the safety of Oak Hill and placed in shackles.
Shackles.
The idea was incomprehensible to her.
No amount of crying or pleading made any difference. No one came to her aid. No one helped her. As she was led out of the plantation and made to walk behind the man who’d bought her, forced to run behind his horse as he rode away, Jolie kept expecting to wake up from what surely must be a nightmare.
“Wait. Please!” she begged as they passed the cotton fields. Slaves, men and women, gawked at her as she was pulled by. No one spoke up to help. No one protested. A whip cracked and they all returned to picking cotton.
“You’re going too fast!” She couldn’t keep up. Jolie kept falling and with the chains on her wrists and ankles, rising was difficult. Her dress and her skin was torn as she was dragged behind the horse over the rough ground and gravel.
“Please. Stop!”
“You might as well shut your mouth, bitch! We’re not stopping until we get to New Orleans.”
* * *
Wilderness of East Texas - 1826
“Walk!” The whip cracked right over Jolie’s shoulder, the tip end striking just under her eye like the fangs of a viper. She gasped in pain, but said nothing. A thin ribbon of blood ran down her cheek, mixing with the ever present trail of tears.
Every footfall was agony. With no shoes, the soles of her feet were torn to ribbons. She had no way of knowing how far they’d come. The shackles on her ankles rubbed her skin raw, while the chains binding her to the woman in front of her and the one behind prevented anything but the most precise and measured steps. When one would fall to the wayside, they were like dominoes, each pulled into the muck and mire of the palmetto swamp.
“Please, Master, let us rest,” Sally begged in a pitiful voice, hoarse from crying. “I can’t go no more.”
“Shut your filthy mouth, whore!” A sharp tug on the rope tied to Sally’s waist gave her what she asked for, although not in the manner she’d hoped. She was pulled to the ground roughly, her head striking a rock on the narrow red dirt path strewn with pine straw.
“Are you all right?” Margarete whispered, falling to her knees next to the darker skinned Sally.
“Master, may we have water?” Jolie pleaded, as much for the others as herself. Raimond Coffi swigged rum steadily and it was her hope that he would drink himself into a stupor so they could stop for the night.
“I got to piss.” He slid off his horse, pulling a canteen from the saddlebag and tossing it to Jolie. “Refill it, if you want to drink later.” Coffi pointed to the shallow stream running next to the path. He tied his mount to the low hanging branch of a stalwart sycamore.
Jolie measured the distance the chain would reach from the place it was hooked on the saddle horn to the water. She’d probably have to stretch, but maybe she could make it.
She glanced at the other two women who huddled together, trying to catch their breaths. The slave trader had been pushing them unmercifully for days. Since her grandmother sold her into bondage, her life had become a nightmare. Jolie realized now how isolated and naïve she’d been. Even surrounded by the harsh realities of slavery, she’d been blissfully ignorant of what it really meant. Similarly, she’d never questioned why the sun rose in the east and not in the west or how the Spanish moss grew in the trees, yet had no roots. Those things just were. Like slavery, she was aware of them, yet their existence had no bearing on her day to day life.
Until now.
How could she have been so unaware? So heartless?
Jolie had lived among the house slaves who’d tended Oak Hill, she’d even strolled the grounds where the field hands labored with the crops. How had she seen the reality, yet missed the obvious? Those people were treated like livestock, many abused, some killed. They had no rights, no say in their everyday life. Sally had been torn from her family, leaving behind a baby she would probably never see again. Margarete had been maimed, her ear cut off because she had been caught listening to her Master’s conversation.
Now, Jolie not only understood, she was living the same horror.
“Can you reach the water, Miss Jolie?” Sally asked.
“Just Jolie, Sally.” The two women kept giving her a title of respect. “I’m just like you.” She knew it was because her skin was lighter and the rumor had traveled about the circumstances of her birth. If the events of the last few months had taught her nothing else, she now knew the shade of her skin didn’t change the truth of her race. She was a Negro. How odd that the fact had never mattered to her one way or the other as she was growing up. In her naivety, people had been people, not varying shades of humanity.
“I think I can reach it, Sally.” She crept closer, letting the arm held captive by the chain stretch out as far as possible. “You might have to move closer.” She tugged on the horse, willing him to take a step to give her an inch or two of additional slack. At her direction, Sally and Margarete crawled nearer. She hated to ask them to budge, they were exhausted. Coffi gave them little to eat. “One more step,” she mumbled, then went to her knees, leaning over to drag the leather canteen through the shallow water.
“Watch out!” Sally cried, pointing.
Jolie jerked back, spilling some of the precious water just as a big water moccasin slithered by. “Oh, my...” She closed the lid, then flung herself backward. Jolie normally wasn’t afraid of snakes, but this one was dangerous. She’d seen these serpents kill a huge bull with one bite.
“Did you get some?” Margarete asked, holding out her hand beseechingly.
“Yes, I did. Here, drink up and I’ll get more.”
A rustle in the underbrush told them their captor was returning. He wouldn’t be surprised to find they were still there. Only once had they tried to flee. Jolie had been the instigator, but they’d all suffered. Coffi had gone into the woods to relieve himself and Jolie slipped onto the horse, urging the others to follow quickly. She was sure he kept the key to their chains in the saddlebag. In her mind, if they could get just a little way away, she could find the key, release them, and they could make their escape to safety. They hadn’t gotten very far, they’d made too much noise and he’d easily found them. When he did, he’d taken the cat o’ nine tails from where it hung coiled on the saddle, tied the women to a tree, and whipped them. Beat them till they bled.
“Yankee-doodle went to town, riding on a pony…” Coffi sang, sipping from a flask he held in his hand. “I think we should just stay here for the night. The sun will be going down soon. What do you say?” He gave them a lascivious sneer. “I’m thinking I need to sample the wares.”
“No!” Jolie screamed, moving to stand between Coffi and the other two women. He’d done this once already, taking Sally right in front of them as she screamed her resistance. “You can’t do this. We don’t belong to you.”
Yes, they’d already been bought. Coffi had taken great pleasure in explaining their plight to them. A rich man named Garrett Thomas had purchased them and they were being taken to his plantation near the Neches Saline, in the northern wilds of the Texas territory.
Coffi shook his fist at Jolie. “You shut your mouth, girl. I’ll take what I want. The only reason I won’t take you, is that he paid me double because you were untouched. After I described you to him, he wants you for himself.” He sneered. “For now, you’re safe. Until he wears you out. The next time I see you, he’ll probably let me have a taste - for a price.”
When he stepped toward Sally and Margarete, who were on their knees hugging one another, Jolie made a grab for his arm. “Stop!”
“Get out of my way!” He gave her a backhanded slap that knocked Jolie to the ground. “You think you’re special, don’t you? Raised in a fancy house. You don’t realize your bright skin will just seal your fate.”
Jolie looked at the ground, seeing tiny ants crawling over the straw. What weapon did she have? Was her fate to just accept? Not fight? Pushing herself up, she cringed at the sight of Coffi on top of Sally. The frail woman struggled in vain, trying to push the bigger man off of her. Whimpers of pain came from her mouth as she was violated. Margarete looked away, meeting Jolie’s eyes. Jolie didn’t say anything, just pointed at Coffi. The other woman raised an eyebrow and shook her head. She was afraid. “We have to try,” she mouthed the words.
Wasting no more time, Jolie came behind Coffi and lifted the chain affixed to either wrist. The horse, sensing the coming chaos, pulled against the rope that held him tied. Trying to communicate to Margarete without words, Jolie took a deep breath and dropped the chain around Coffi’s neck. Grunting and rutting between Sally’s thighs, he wasn’t aware of anything going on around him until Jolie pulled up on the chain. When she did, he roared to life, flailing backward. “Get his gun, Margarete!”
Fighting for his life, Coffi flung himself backward, crushing Jolie beneath his weight. She cried out in pain, but held on for dear life. He was clawing outward, grabbing at Margarete’s skirt. Sally slunk away, trying to get past what she’d just endured, unable to help in any way.
Rolling from one side to the other, Coffi fought the chain around his neck. He dug his fingers between his skin and the chain, bringing blood with his efforts. “Fuck you, you little piece of trash!” he rasped.
Margarete pulled the pistol from the saddlebag. “I don’t know how to use it!” She pointed it at Coffi while Jolie battled to keep the big man down. Unfortunately, Coffi pulled one hand from his neck and grasped the end of the gun.
“Shoot, Margarete!” Jolie was desperate. She pulled harder, trying to cut off his oxygen, but she couldn’t hold him forever.
“I can’t!” The trembling woman screamed. At her sobbing cry, Coffi lurched and yanked the gun from Margarete’s grasp and slung it backward over his shoulder, cracking Jolie in the skull.
With a weak scream, Jolie let go. Defeated.
Coffi was furious. He dragged himself up and glared at the three women. “You are going to pay dearly for this.”
With venom in his eyes, he staggered to the poor horse and yanked the whip from its place, popping it ominously. Immediately, Sally and Margarete cowered and began to cry, praying out to a God who had abandoned them all.
In his rage, Coffi began to slash the whip through the air, bringing it down on one woman and then another.
To the right. Pop!
To the left. Pop!
Wheeling the long black whip behind him to strike Jolie across the shoulders.
Over and over again, he let the leather snake dance through the air, hitting their faces, their arms, their backs. Being chained together, they were trapped, unable to go beyond the limitations of the length of the iron that bound them. The horse reared and screamed, dancing away as far as it could. When the tip of the bullwhip grazed its flank, the gelding broke free, taking off at a run, dragging the three women behind him.
All Jolie could think to do was cry out for help. “Papa!” she screamed, knowing in her heart there would be no answer. She was about to die and there would be no one who’d care. Charlotte yes…but her cousin would never know what happened to her.
Slam!
Her body crashed into a tree and Jolie yelped in agony. She could hear the other two women, crying and wailing. Above it all, though, she could hear Coffi laughing. He wasn’t afraid he’d lose his property, the horse wouldn’t get far, not with the three slaves still attached, their bodies catching on every bush and tree.
With fingers clawing the ground, Jolie tried to find some purchase, some way of stopping the runaway animal. Her flesh was torn by rocks and brambles, her clothes almost ripped from her body. Suddenly they came to an abrupt halt, the saddle had come off the frantic animal who leapt over a small ravine to make his escape.
Jolie raised her head, glancing over at Sally and Margarete. Sally was on her knees, trying to catch her breath. But Margarete wasn’t moving. Crawling to her, Jolie whispered through her tears. “Are you okay? Margarete?” She didn’t have to go all the way to tell the woman’s neck was broken, her head lay at an impossible angle. “Oh, Margarete. Sally, she’s gone.”
Before Sally could respond, a horrific scream broke the silence. Not just any scream, but a spine-tingling, gut-wrenching, terror filled, guttural squall.
“Coffi.”
“What’s happening, Miss Jolie?” Sally whispered.
“I don’t know.” Jolie had no idea what Coffi had encountered. Be it man or beast, it sounded as if something was ripping him apart. Scrambling to her feet, she made for the saddle. “The key, we’ve got to find the key.”
Light was fading and Jolie’s heart was beating so fast, she was afraid it would burst through her chest. With shaking hands, she felt through the contents of the saddle bag, throwing aside a tobacco pouch, some papers, a bag of coins, and a pair of spectacles. “Finally.” She felt her hands close over the key. “I’ve got it, Sally.”
Jolie went to Sally and knelt down, her whole body trembling as she tried to fit the key into the hole of the lock. As she was working, the noises coming from the clearing where Coffi was fighting for his life grew increasingly horrendous. Growls and roars were added to Coffi’s now weak and mournful cries. As soon as Jolie released them from their bonds, she crept a few steps back to see what enemy she might soon be facing.
Being as quiet as she could possibly be, Jolie moved the few feet needed until she could see a sight that she knew would never leave her mind for as long as she lived. What was left of the slave trader was scattered over the ground, while a huge bear tore at the flesh of Coffi’s torso, ripping chunks of flesh from his bones and devouring it. Realizing the wind could change at any moment and reveal her presence, she retreated to where Sally still lay on the ground.
“We’ve got to get out of here.”
“What is it?”
“A bear. Coffi’s dead.” Jolie tried to think. She saw the papers of their sale lying on the ground and she took them, cramming the evidence of her shame deep into the pocket of her tattered gown. The gun was nowhere to be seen, but there were a few pieces of Coffi’s clothing. “Here take this.” Jolie divided the garments with her friend, slipping a jacket over her shoulders and a hat on her head.
“Where will we go?” Sally asked.
Jolie shrugged. “I don’t know, but we need to get moving.”
“I’m heading back to the river. I want to go home.” Sally was already on her feet and moving. “If I follow this stream, it will lead to the Sabine and across it lies Louisiana.”
There was nothing for Jolie in Louisiana. “I think I’ll head west.”
“Do you think anyone will come hunting for us?”
Jolie passed a worried hand over her eyes. “Yes, our buyer will. He paid good money for us. Word of this will get back to him, eventually. We need to either make ourselves scarce or blend in.”
Sally threw her arms around Jolie’s neck. “You be careful. I don’t want to go back to the fields, but I want to see my baby.”
“I know and I understand. I wish you a good life, Sally.” Jolie returned her hug. “Wait.” She ran back to Coffi’s things, snatching the bag of coins. “Take this, you’ll be able to buy your way across the river on the ferry. Those men won’t turn down silver. Just don’t let them see how much you have.”
“Thank you.” She tucked the coins between her breasts. “I wish you a good life too, Miss Jolie.”
Sally lingered, but Jolie pushed her to go. “We need to move, before the bear catches our scent.” With one last goodbye, the two women parted ways.
As the sun sank behind the dense pine forest, Sally headed east toward home and Jolie headed west toward an uncertain future.
CHAPTER FOUR
“Come on, Sandy. Time to lock the door and call it a night.” Austin McCoy urged his dog to join him inside. “We’ve had a hard day. Time to rest.”
The big hound stepped over the threshold, making for the stone hearth and flopping down in his usual spot.
“We made good headway today. I think we’ve cleared another acre, soon we’ll have enough room for a few more cattle.”
