Beneath a Tainted Sky, A Passionate Historical Affair

Beneath a Tainted Sky

A Passionate Historical Affair

Beneath a Tainted Sky

A Passionate Historical Affair

K.C. Mitchell

Copyright © 2023 K.C. Mitchell

All rights reserved.

No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the publisher or author, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law or in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.

All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation to anyone bearing the same name or names. Any resemblance to individuals known or unknown to the author is purely coincidental.

Notes to Readers: This edition is the rebranded, revised edition of the original book.

This book contains sexual content and is recommended only for mature readers eighteen and older.

Contents

Epigraph

The Thirteenth Amendment

Prologue

1.The Beginning of the End

2.The Farmstead

3.Unraveling

4.Awakened Passion

5.Smoldering Obsession

6.Madly Miserable

7.Unexpected Insight

8.Big and Strong

9.The 13th Marriage

10.Battles and Wars

11.Regrouping

12.Decisions, Decisions

13.Sweet Death

14.Wounds of War

15.Gettysburg

16.Gus' Disappearance

17.The Calvary

18.Baby on Board?

19.Desperate Measures

20.The Stowaway

21.A Culmination of Struggle

22.The 13th Law – A New Era

23.Didn’t See That One Coming

24.Happy Endings After All?

Epilogue

From the Author

Special Mention

Acknowledgements

About the Author

Also by

Preview of The Tapestry of A. Taylor

Also By

More Novels By K. C. Mitchell

The Tapestry Series:

The Tapestry of A. Taylor: An Inspiring Emotional Novel, Book One

The Weaving of a Warrior, Book Two

The Fate of a Family, Book Three

Other Books by K.C. Mitchell

till the Tide: A Novel of Awakening

Beneath a Tainted Sky: A Passionate Historical Affair

Coming Soon…

More Titles in The Tapestry Series:

The Woes of a Woman, Book Four

The Painting of a Portrait, Book Five

The Legacy of a Lady, Book Six

In loving memory of my brother,

Bruce Carlisle,

The most gentle soldier I have ever known.

"Sometimes we get to pick our Destiny;

But most of the Time,

Our Destiny picks Us."

Author Unknown

Thirteenth Amendment Ratified

December 6, 1865

Neither slavery nor involuntary servitude, except as a punishment for crime whereof the party shall have been duly convicted, shall exist within the United States, or any place subject to their jurisdiction.

Prologue

February 2nd, 1861

B ut Liam, I pleaded, "you just returned from university, and you promised we would get married and start a family once you graduated. My heart sank as Liam tried to explain all the reasons he felt we should put off our engagement. He spoke as if he practiced this speech many times, like he was delivering a grim diagnosis to one of his patients. I’m twenty-two years old. Why, I’m practically an old maid!" I burst into tears despite myself.

Sophie, it will only be for a little while longer. The Union Army will prevail quickly and then I can return to you, set up my practice in my father’s office, and we’ll announce our intent to marry. I promise. It was just like Liam having a well-devised plan. His parents had planned his life for him before he was born.

The Welch’s reputation was well known throughout the region, so much so that no one doubted Liam would become a doctor when he grew up. At twenty-six, Liam was a worldly man, and I knew I must obey his wishes. He was worth the wait. Afterall, he would be as rich as his father once he took over the practice. I had to think of a way to make it work.

Liam, I squeaked. How could you? Everyone in town will think you’ve slighted me. I’m humiliated. It was the only response I could muster for one last ditch effort to appeal to his honor. This reaction seemed to soften him, and he pulled me into his arms and held me while I cried.

Sophie, you’ve waited on me this long. A few more months is all I’m asking.

Maybe we could marry before you go, I offered.

No, Sophie, we both want a proper engagement and a big wedding. It’s what you’ve always wanted. I won’t stand in the way of your dream after you allowed me to fulfill mine all these years. Let’s do this right. I want it to be perfect, just like we have always planned it. I knew, despite my heartbroken spirit, that any reasoning I offered would fall on deaf ears. Tears fell from my eyes even more heavily as I resigned to his decision.

Chapter one

The Beginning of the End

February 17th, 1861

Iheard them arguing, which was rare for my parents because my father never won arguments and had learned long ago to give up before he started. Straining my ears to hear what must be so important for my father to meet my mother head-to-head, I leaned in closer.

Ester, I will not allow it! You’ve gone too far this time, he raised his voice. It was only the second time I ever heard my father raise his voice. My curiosity demanded I move closer to hear what outrageous suggestion my mother presented to raise my father’s ire.

George, we have no other choice. We didn’t bring this upon her, he did. He is an obstinate, selfish boy. First, he left her to go up north for university and now this. It seems to me he is looking for any excuse to put off marrying her and she’s getting too old now to wait. She needs to settle down and start a family. Besides, who knows if Liam intends to come back to marry her? What? They’re talking about me? Liam is most certainly not selfish. Why, he is one of the must selfless men I’d ever met. What was mother up to now?

Knowing I shouldn’t be eavesdropping, I turned to go back to my room, but after only a few steps, I decided if their conversation was about me, I deserved to hear what they were discussing. Besides, my father always needed help when it came to my mother. So, I turned and walked back to the door. Right before I stepped in, my father’s familiar, tired voice conceded.

Maybe you’re right. You always understand these things better than me. But him? There must be someone more her age or, uh, status than. My entrance cut off my father’s words and he sat dumbfounded as I stood in the doorway. Sophie, how long have you been listening? I looked from my father to my mother, trying to read their minds. What had they determined was going to happen to me? To whom was this him my father referred?

Sophie, come on in and sit down. You might as well find out now, my mother sounded more demanding than normal. I somehow grasped that they had sealed my fate. Your father and I have decided you’ve waited long enough on Liam. No, my father had been protesting. This was all her doing.

What? What do you mean, mother? Liam said he would only be gone a few months.

No, dear, he will never return. What are you saying? NO! He will be killed in the war. It’s a cruel reality but one you must face sooner rather than later. And what’s more, most all the young unmarried men are following in his same footsteps, albeit at least they’re fighting for our Confederate cause and not betraying their roots as Liam is doing.

My mother’s words stunned me. She had pushed Liam and me together since childhood, despite our four-year age difference, because she wanted us to be married. She taught me to read, write, play piano, and take care of the ledgers rather than sewing and cooking like most of my friends so I would be a proper wife for Liam’s position as a doctor in our small town. She prided herself on her accomplishment of our courtship even after Liam left for college, telling other would-be suitors I was unavailable. And now she was tearing us apart?

I could not move or speak because of my shock. She continued to talk, yet her voice sounded like a muted sheep bleating in the background of my mind. "By the time this war is over, there will be a shortage of eligible men. You will not be a spinster! I have educated you and prepared you to run a business and I will not have you marry someone beneath your status because he might be the only man left in town."

Mother! Let’s wait a few months. My gosh, Liam has only been gone a few weeks. Maybe he’ll return as he said. Maybe the war will be short-lived. Besides, with the states seceding from the Union, I’m sure President Lincoln will reconsider his emancipation threat.

No, child, I guess you didn’t read the newspaper this morning. She tossed it in front of me with an exasperated thug. The headline screamed at me: Confederate Constitution Signed. It was a possibility I had considered, of course. Because Georgia, being the largest and most populous state, had seceded in January, their action had strengthened the Confederate cause. Talk of a War Between the States filled every paper and conversation as the Confederacy grew stronger with each state’s secession.

Now, it was official. The South was a separate legal entity, which meant war was unavoidable.

Liam had understood our future before it was official, but the reality of the situation crashed down upon my shoulders as I continued to read the article.

So, dear, your father and I found a suitable mate for you. Mr. Hardman asked about you a few weeks ago, so I sent a messenger over and he has agreed to marry you. Mr. Hardman!? Where had I heard his name? It hit me he was our neighbor from several miles away. He was a bit of a recluse. I had only met him on two occasions. The first was when mother and I took food over after hearing his wife was ill. He stood on their front porch and only nodded his head toward the door when my mother told him why we had come.

The second time I saw him was at his wife’s funeral several months ago. There were only a handful of people in attendance and Mr. Hardman showed no emotion. He was old, mid-forties I’d guess but looked much older. He was never clean or in a suit. Even at his wife’s funeral, he wore dirty overalls as if he were working on his farm. I’d never understood why a plantation owner as well-off as him did not flaunt his wealth more by cleaning up and dressing the part. I would never marry him.

Mother, you can’t mean this. There must be some way, someone else maybe, or let’s give it some time. My voice rose in indignation. I looked her in the eyes and pleaded with my spirit what words did not seem to express to her.

You’ll come to love him in time, perhaps after you have his children, she spat, but I saw her nose crinkled up, speaking the words. An involuntary shiver ran through me at the thought of having little boys who looked like him.

"I will never marry him, and I will never have a child with him!" I realized I was hysterical, and I shouted as I’d never done before. Her shock only lasted a moment before her equilibrium returned with a forceful vengeance I’d never seen.

Do not tell me what you will not do, my daughter. We have allowed you ample time to find a husband and have been very lenient with you and Liam, but enough is enough. This war will change everyone’s future and for you, that means fewer choices. All the young men in town are signing up. Mr. Hardman may not be a young, handsome man like you hoped for, but he is well off and runs a large plantation. He owns many slaves and will do well by you. When he dies, your sons will have a nice inheritance and since his farm is next to ours, the entirety of it will make our lineage wealthy. Liam is throwing his future away in this blasted war and his family will not take you in for the sole reason that you think you love him. Once Liam is declared dead, his family will never want to see you again.

Wanting to run away, I stood up. Mother appeared at last to understand the blow she delivered, and her voice softened somewhat. Sophie, I put Mr. Hardman off for two weeks to give you a chance to accept your plight without Liam. You mustn’t enter this agreement with a poor attitude, or you’ll start out on the wrong foot.

"Mother, I will never forgive you for this," I whispered so softly I wasn’t sure she heard me. My eyes cut to my father. He sat, shoulders slumped, and looking down at his hands. Before I stomped out, I thought I saw a single tear fall from his cheek.

Chapter two

The Farmstead

Ilay on my bed of this new house, a house I was supposed to be running, but instead sought refuge in a room which was foreign to me. Although I longed for the comfort of my own bedroom, I had to admit I did love this new, more luxurious bedroom. It was large and had French doors which opened to a terrace overlooking the front of the house. There were several chairs on my private veranda, and I loved to sit and look at the sky, watch the birds, and breathe in the fresh air. The view from my balcony was beautiful, overlooking the entire front yard and into the woods at a distance.

A large oak tree grew almost right in front of the house, and its branches gave a delightful shade in the afternoon. Every mid-day, my favorite place was to sit on my terrace, unnoticed, and watch the activity within the big oak. Squirrels ran a tither back and forth, looking for more nuts or playing. Birds flew in and out of the branches, adding to their nests or fetching worms for their newborns. Our yard cats would skitter up the trunk, chasing chipmunks.

It was a peaceful indulgence that helped break up the monotony of lying around, passing the time while avoiding my new husband and his household.

My bed was comforting as well, with a canopy and cream shears surrounding it to keep the mosquitos out once summer came. There was a fireplace across from it and the houseboy kept a fire going in it to keep the chilly nip out of the air. A dressing table for me to sit and brush my hair and a wardrobe to hold my gowns were bonuses I’d not expected. The colors in the room were lovely in white and beige with a matching rug on the floor, which helped to keep my feet from getting too cold from the hardwood floors.

It was the perfect sacred space to call my own. I wanted to stay here until the war was over. Yes, this bedroom was much nicer than my own at home. Regardless of my feelings about this plantation and Gus Hardman, I knew I would come to love this room and the solitude it offered from the world.

Phebe, an older slave and the overseer of Gus’ house, convinced him to give me some time to adjust when I arrived a few weeks ago. The two of them appeared very close and I wondered if she took care of his personal needs, which would otherwise fall upon me, his wife. I hoped she did because relief from that particular chore would make me very happy.

Our wedding ceremony was brief. Except for the part where my father charged Gus with my responsibility and warning him he’d best not mistreat me, I tried not to remember it at all. My father must have been convincing, because Gus had barely grunted to me since he brought me home in his old horse and buggy. It was an alien scene compared to what Liam and I had planned. My mind wondered if Liam was dead already, and I longed to join him in that solitary experience. Anything was better than this dreadful existence.

Miss Sophronia, Phebe knocked at my door, I got some vittles for ya lunch. Although I was not hungry, I announced permission for her to enter. You gots ta eat, baby. You already not even big as a minute as it is. The master been real patient with ya, but he growin’ antsy. An’ I need ya ta help me run this here place. I been doin’ it all by myself since Miss Letty passed on. Phebe did not appear to need any help from me. She ran Gus’ house as if she were the mistress, which indeed, I thought she might be. I rose from my bed and made my way to the side table where Phebe always placed my tray.

Thank you, Phebe, I tried to sound more grateful than I felt.

Master says he wants you ta come on down ta the supper table for dinner, she added with enough empathy in her voice that I understood she sympathized with my plight. My head jerked up to look at her face, hoping she was kidding. She would not look me in the eye.

Can’t you tell him I’m sick or something?

No, Miss Sophronia. He done said that’s tha way it’s gotta be, so I reckon you gone hafta finish all your tears and accept you is his wife now. I done tried every trick in tha book ta give ya some time but he’s leaving this weekend ta go ta ‘lanta an’ I knowed he gone wanna make sure you is situated before he goes on.

Phebe was being nice, making it sound as if Gus was looking out for me. Gus already told me he went to Atlanta for the weekend at the first of each month to purchase supplies for the plantation and sell crops from the farm. He did not trust any of the slaves to take care of everything while he was away, which is one of the reasons he needed a wife. I guessed he figured he needed a wife who was vested enough to make everyone behave in his absence, but I didn’t. I didn’t care about his plantation, his house, or if all his slaves ran away. All I thought about was Liam.

Please Phebe, I tried to sound sickly, and I coughed a little to be more convincing. I don’t feel well.

I know you don’ baby, but the bug you got has nothin’ to do with yo body. It’s in yo mind and I ain’t no babysitter. Ya need ta take over the runnin’ of this here household so I can git back ta my regular responsibilities. She had every right to be upset with me. I understood as much. So, after I ate my lunch, I changed into a lovely gown that had always been one of my favorites, trying to cheer myself up. It was a deep brown color with ruffles on the sleeves and hemline. Embossed stripes ran from my waist to my hem, which made me look taller.

After a once-over in the mirror, I headed downstairs. It was midafternoon and I expected the house to be quiet but found, instead, there was a hustle bustle of slaves of all ages clamoring in and around the house.

As I came down the stairs, four young girls scrubbed the floors in the main foyer and a young man cleaned the stairs. They wore rags for clothes, although it was quite cold. Walking into the cookhouse, I found Phebe ordering around three older women about preparing dinner while two younger girls cleaned the dishes from lunch.

Well, well, well, ya don’ say, Phebe chimed in as the door squeaked when I opened it. I blushed despite my agitation. If I was supposed to be the lady of this house, I did not need her treating me like a child.

What’s for dinner?

Fried pork chops, collard greens, and cornbread.

Only one vegetable? I wondered aloud.

Yes ’em, last summer wusn’t good for the crops so we tryin’ ta ration thangs. Master said he gone git some different seed this year an’ see if’n it’s better. I got some pickles I put up though, if you’d like.

Yes, Phebe. Pickles would be nice. Thank you. I was unsure about what Phebe thought she needed from me specifically, but I did not want to ask her. After leaving the cookhouse, I determined to find some corner of the plantation that needed my help. Phebe followed me.

Miss Sophronia, she started.

Please, Phebe, call me Sophie. No one calls me Sophronia.

Uh, okay, yes ma’am. I was gonna tell ya I’d be glad to go over what Miss Letty used ta do if’n that’d help ya git started.

Yes, Phebe, that would be wonderful. My shoulders released tension I hadn’t realized was there as relief flooded my veins. I’d never run a home, much less one of this magnitude, yet I didn’t want to appear inexperienced. Phebe spent the next few hours showing me how Miss Letty had liked the house run, made sure the slaves kept it spotless, and how Gus wanted the ledgers looked over and compared with his inventory to make sure the slaves were not stealing from him.

I’s usually decide what’s for dinner but, of course, any thang you think Master would rather have, alls you got ta do is tell me and I’ll sho ’nuff make it happen. Phebe beamed when she spoke of Gus. Her pride in him puzzled me. What was there to be proud of in Gus?

No, Phebe, you know him better than I do, so whatever you think he’d want is fine with me. I hadn’t seen Gus all day, in fact, for several days, because I remained in my room most of the time. Gus allowed me to have my own sleeping quarters, for which I was grateful, but feared how long that might last. The day proceeded with Phebe showing me around the house and explaining how Gus preferred his plantation run. What time Friday does Gus leave for Atlanta?

Oh, he always leave before dawn on the last Friday of the month ’cause it takes him ‘till after lunch ta git there. I always pack ’im a lunch, water, and fresh fruit if’n it’s in season. But, even keepin’ on goin’, it’ll take ’im till midafternoon ta git there. After he git there, he gotta git the horse rested and git hisself a place ta sleep. So, the first day is only gittin’ there. Although I ‘spect he enjoys the city fun in the nighttime after he done rested up some. Yes, I would bet he does, I thought as she continued.

Din, next mornin’ he goes down ta the feed store, the market, and sometimes the hardware store, all dependin’ on what he needs here at the farm. All that takes ’im ’bout all day, so din he stays the night, too. I don’ know why he don’ git up at the crack a dawn ta come home like he does when he’s a goin’ but he stays ’round till lunch time and din heads back. Boy, oh me, he sho is bushed when he comes a ridin’ up after dark. It takes a couple hours more, ya know, ta git home din it does ta git there ’cause a the cart bein’ fuller and all dat. So, for at least one weekend a month, I would enjoy a break from him. This enlightenment had me feeling better already.

So, Phebe, does Gus have any expectations for me other than here at the house? I held my breath, hoping she would say ‘no’ because I knew I could do all she had already explained to me with ease. If so, I would have a lot of free time.

Oh, yes, ma’am. Master wants you ta go wid him out ta the field an’ make sure the field hands is behavin’. ‘Specially when he be gone. I ‘xpect he gone be takin’ ya out ta the field today or tomorrow ta show ya ’round. He always has Stud come an’ pick up the Misses and take her so as no foolishness goes on like it might, if’n you was by yoself.

Stud?

Yes ‘am. Stud is the main overseer of everythang ‘xcept the house. Well, I guess he may be over us, too. But he is Master’s main man ta keep the order ’round here. You know, ’cause he’s a big man an’ all. I pictured this man to be very tall and stout and older, perhaps in his sixties. It was the first time I heard Gus trusted anyone.

Why do you call him Stud? Phebe laughed a little mischievous giggle before she explained.

Well, Master calls most of us folks by what our job is here ‘xcept me ’cause I ’bout raised ’im since he was a boy. But most everyone else, he calls by what job he done assigned ’em. Stud turned out ta be quite a man as he grew older. So, when Gus’ daddy died and Gus took over the farm, he decided he didn’ wanna keep payin’ so much for good slaves when he had a natural born stud right here on his own farm. She stopped smiling but continued.

Master makes ’im have as many babies as he can keep women ‘xpectin’ ’round here. Master figures it’s cheaper ta raise his own than to pay good money for a grown one. This declaration shocked and appalled me.

But Phebe, you don’t mean to say Gus makes this man, well, have babies by different women, do you?

Yes ma’am, I do. Ain’t no tellin’ how many chillin’ ’round here could claim Stud as they daddy. He been at it since he was a teenager. The audacity of this dumbfounded me. Gus was treating his slaves as if they were cattle.

Phebe, what is his real name? I refuse to call him such a demeaning name. She looked at me as if looking into my soul, and I believed she saw me for the first time.

Well, ma’am, I ‘xpect no one would know who you’d be talkin’ ’bout if’n ya called him anythang ‘xcept Stud. I don’ reckon I remember it, if’n he has one. She gave me a sheepish look that made me wonder if she was telling me the whole truth. Since she had been here when Gus was a boy, I ‘d bet she remembered Stud’s real name. Determined to find out who this dear old man was, I set out on a mission. If he didn’t have a name, I would create one for him. Anyway, I ‘xpect Master be along in a bit, so I best go on in and make sho dinner be ready for ’im. I nodded her dismissal and walked about the grounds.

It was a chilly day, so I grabbed an overcoat and walked out onto the massive front porch. The house was lovely and, if not for the circumstances of which brought me to it, I would have loved being the mistress of such a home.

The city of Madison was founded in the early eighteen-hundreds but did not grow until the cotton boom around eighteen-forty. Overnight, the antebellum type homes sprung up on most plantations that were big enough to justify them. My childhood home was such, except not as large and impressive as Gus’. I was not sure how Gus’ family had acquired so much wealth. The word was his father and grandfather came from Atlanta when this area began. It was the perfect distance from the Atlanta area, which boomed overnight. With so many acres to plant, and the workforce to cultivate and harvest it, the Hardman estate amassed great wealth.

As I walked around, it was clear a mastermind had created an organized farm. It was a relief to think perhaps Gus’ mind was sharper than any other part of him. He must be a genius. Or perhaps it was his father or grandfather who orchestrated this plantation.

The front of the house was picturesque, situated with the enormous oak tree in front of the house; the very one I admired from my balcony. The landscape also included enormous walnut trees knobbed in intricate patterns and pecan trees surrounding the front area. The chicken coops were to the right of the house and chicken wire encircled the dozens or more of chickens to keep them contained in with their small barn to roost in.

Behind the chicken coop sat a massive pig pen, again fenced off to keep them in and with an enclosure for them to sleep. In the distance, cows grazed. So, we raised all our meat.

I walked to the opposite side of the house and saw the area where I supposed the vegetable garden grew in the spring and summer. It was many acres large, with a shed resting on the far side to keep the horse plow and other tools out of the weather. Beyond the toolshed, I saw a large barn. Gus owned a team of horses, and I assumed a mule or two. The big barn must be their home.

Since the sun was bright, which kept me from getting as cold as I might have otherwise, I continued to walk. It was a lovely day for March. I strolled past the garden area and the barn, and I stopped mid-stride. Before me lay several rows of mud huts. Well, they had built most with logs, but it appeared to be mud holding them together. There must have been thirty of them. Each one was small, not quite big enough for a few people to live.

Wanting to see if my eyes were deceiving me, I walked closer. The first few comprise two rooms. The first room had boards laying on blocks or stumps around a makeshift fireplace, also made of mud and sticks. Large stuffed bags filled the rooms, which covered most of the floor. Leaving the tiny shack, I was confused about what these huts were supposed to be. Perhaps it was only a storage place.

But I went into another and another and they were all almost identical, with the only difference being some had stuffed bags in the front room as well as the back. The reality of it hit me then. These were the slaves’ quarters.

Needing fresh air from the stench within the huts, I stepped outside. Toddlers ran about playing a game with sticks and stones. A few children ate from a nearby trough. I made my way over to them and scolded them, telling them the trough was dirty and for the animals. One of the older kids looked up at me and answered.

No, ma’am, this here be our feeding trough, but yep, tha animals use it, too, so I guess it be all our trough. My stomach lurched at the thought of these poor babies eating after the pigs. As I strolled between the huts, I watched small children playing outside in mud with few clothes to keep them warm. They lived in abject poverty while Gus enjoyed a gorgeous mansion home right in front of them. Dazed and glowering, I decided I must do something. Their empty eyes returned my stare.

Sophronia! Turning to see whose strange voice screamed mine, I saw Gus standing at the head of the row of slave quarters. His face appeared gruff, and he was dirtier than normal. He motioned for me to follow him, then turned and walked away toward his beautiful home. Being the obedient girl I was, I followed. I don’t want ya goin’ to the huts without proper supervision. Them boys cain’t be trusted.

I was not sure how to respond. Of course, I had been around slaves. In fact, my own family had one who not only helped to raise me but also kept our home. Yet, she was only a house slave, so she had a bedroom like we did, albeit much smaller and furnished with fewer extravagances. That some owners kept their slaves in such horrendous conditions and treated them like farm animals had never crossed my mind. No, even the farm animals had better quarters than Gus’ slaves did.

A gripping hate formed in my belly. I could never love this man. How could he treat human beings with such poor disregard?

Did ya hear me, wife? Gus barked.

Yes, I heard you. I turned to go inside but thought better and turned back to look at him. And my name is Sophie. Then I entered the door, slamming it behind me.

My heart pounded as I ran up the stairs to my bedroom. Expecting Gus would follow me up and give me a thrashing for talking to him like I did, I hurried, but I did not hear footsteps behind me. I was going to have to learn to keep my rebellion in check.

Once inside the safety of my bedroom, I breathed a deep sigh. After I disrobed to change for dinner, I noticed mud splattered the hem of my dress. Because the gown was a deep brown with gold threads running throughout, I hadn’t noticed it. I must have tracked it all the way to my room. Those poor children had spent all morning making the foyer and steps shine. In one thoughtless moment, I had mussed it for them to have to clean again.

For dinner, I took extra measures to look presentable, still worried Gus would reprimand me for my earlier statement. The cream-colored gown had a lower neckline than I usually dared to wear. The intricate lace on it and the sleeves tickled my skin and made me blush for no reason. Our tailor had made it for Liam’s return from university, per my instructions. Apparently, the gown’s mission of enticing Liam had failed.

As I descended the stairs, Phebe was seating Gus at the head of the table. I entered with an uncustomary demureness than was normal for me, trying to appear meek and, with any luck, go unnoticed.

Why look how purty you look, Miss Sophie, Phebe announced. So much for coming in unnoticed. She scuffled to the opposite end of the table from Gus and pulled my chair out for me. As soon as I sat, the older women who’d cooked all day brought in plates and served first Gus, then me. As promised, the pork chops were fried and an ample amount of collards and a large portion of cornbread sat atop our plates; however, mine had an addition of sweet bread-and-butter pickles placed on the side of the cornbread.

Why, thank you so much, I told the wrinkled lady, who placed my plate before me as if my china was a fine piece of art. What was her name again? She didn’t acknowledge I spoke. Gus and I ate in silence. My nerves kept me from enjoying my dinner, although it was delicious. Gus gobbled his food in haste and, although his plate was much fuller than mine, he finished well before I did, wiping his mouth on the back of his sleeve. He stood with such abruptness that the chair scrapped the floor. Without pushing his chair back under the table, he walked to the door. As I breathed a deep breath and relaxed my shoulders, he turned to me.

I ain’t accustomed to bein’ disrespected in my own home. You’ll come no matter what I call ya. Be ready ta go ta the field at sunrise so I can show ya what ya need to check on while I’m gone. An’ you can save yo purty dresses. This here is a farm, not high society. Then he walked out.

So, this was to be my life. Regardless of the color of my skin, I was one of Gus’ slaves, as if he’d captured me and hauled me from Africa.

The thought of dying sounded pleasant to my ears, as odd as it seemed. The only reason I could think of to go on was perhaps, by some miracle, Liam might still be out there. If he came for me, I didn’t care how big a scandal