Story: The Secret Slave. Part 15.

by Camille Langtry

The Sheriff put the branding iron away and untied the wailing Sophie, a silent "why" frozen on her tear-stained face. He had done this procedure dozens of times - mostly to rough and muscular field hands - but never to a girl so young and so delicate. He was not a sentimental man, far from it, but the fact that Caroline Cranstone, a manipulative Jezebel if there ever was one, forced his hand, filled him with mild regret. Yes, he has just ruined her property to show her who was running things here, but what he did he really gain from it? Apart from that familiar sticky feeling of having complete power over a fellow human being - the one that always gave way to uneasy heart-searching that only a good bottle of Bourbon could stop?

"Blame yer mistress, not me, girl," he uttered with a touch of pity, his words barely audible through Sophie’s heart-rending howl. “Now, now. It will heal in no time,” he added and stepped aside, allowing Elizabeth to console her shrieking friend. Caroline remained frozen on the porch, a slight hint of a smile on her well-proportioned face, as she awaited the Sheriff’s return to finish their aborted conversation.

The initial sharp pain has given way to a persistent burning sensation on Sophie’s back that was made a lot worse by the rough touch of the coarse material of her torn dress that she had to immediately pull back up to protect her modesty. Through tearful eyes she could barely see Elizabeth, on her knees in front of her, wiping away never-stopping tears from her friend’s reddened face with a batiste handkerchief. The Sheriff motioned to his young assistant still standing by the fire to watch Sophie and entered his office, closely followed by Caroline.

It took Sophie several minutes to calm down enough to be able to talk semi-intelligibly.

“Why?! What did I do?” she cried out, fighting the sobs.

“Dear Sophie, I don’t know what happened! I tried to stop him, but it was too late. Caroline was talking to him and the next moment he ran off to grab you! I am so sorry…” Elizabeth tried to calm down her writhing friend to no avail.

“Caroline?! Why didn’t you speak to him? How could you?!” Sophie spited out.

“I did everything I could. I was worried sick. You know I am your friend!” Elizabeth responded rather unconvincingly. “And please be quiet, someone could hear. You can only make it worse.”

“Worse that this?” Sophie hissed, but did tone down her voice despite herself.

“Yes, a lot worse. I’ve managed to keep your secret safe despite Caroline’s constant inquiries. Please don’t give her more reasons to suspect something is afoot. Remember, you are my slave and nothing more. Please, I beg you, don’t do anything stupid again. We'll soon be going home, don’t ruin it!”

“Don’t ruin it? It’s me who is ruined forever,’’ Sophie responded and began sobbing again. “Forever!”

“Listen, this is not the time, we’ll talk it over later. I am sure there is something we could do. Maybe there is a way to remove it. I don’t think he held the iron long enough. It could just be a burn that will fade or even go away with time,’’ Elizabeth tried to console her friend like a mother would a hurt child and almost believed her words herself despite all the indication to the contrary.

“You think so?” Sophie asked quietly and a glimmer of hope appeared in her watered eyes.

“Of course I do, now just please be quiet. There is nothing I want more than to take you back home safe,” Elizabeth replied. “Just please do as you are told from now on, I don’t want you to run into trouble again.”

Sophie nodded, finally stopped crying and composed herself. Her burned shoulder still hurt, but the pain was now numb and almost bearable if she didn’t move her arm. The emotional pain of being violated this way was only gaining strength with every passing minute though. Elizabeth’s words that this may not be permanent gave her hope but she could not even inspect the extent of the damage done to her soft skin. She tried to reach for her charred shoulder blade to determine how big the brand was, but the skin around it was too swollen. A sickening smell of burned flesh suggested that the burn was possibly quite long and deep, yet she had no way of confirming that until she got to a mirror. All she could do was wait and, like Elizabeth suggested, do as she was told.

Elizabeth’s beautiful eyes were filled with tears, her expression that of intense pain as if it was her who just got branded like a common criminal. To any onlooker the difference between the two women could not have been greater. One was undeniably a rich and refined lady, dressed in a long-sleeved muslin checkered gown with a fashionably wide skirt trimmed with two rows of ribbons at the hem, and wearing a straw bonnet with artificial flowers and wide dusty blue bands. The other was a miserable creature in a rugged colorless smock, barefoot, a dirty headwrap covering her sweaty hair, with a rusty slave collar encircling her long neck.

Looking at her secret slave, Elizabeth could not believe how much she’d changed in the short period she had not seen her. Sophie’s hands bore unmistakable signs of a whipping and heavy manual labor, her face and neck were very well-tanned from her time in the fields, her nails were chipped, her naked feet were covered by layers of dust and dirt. There was absolutely nothing in her appearance to suggest that she was anything but what everyone else thought she was - a runaway field slave that got caught. Yes, lighter than most, but a slave nonetheless. There was no question about it. This dramatic transformation scared and excited Elizabeth. Would she ever be able to treat her friend as an equal after everything she’d been through? Elizabeth pushed that uncomfortable thought away for now just as Caroline emerged from the Sheriff’s office, a somewhat worried expression on her face.

The mistress of Cypress Hill waved her gloved hand and, when Elizabeth approached, pulled her aside so that no one could hear.

“Elizabeth, how much money do you have on you?” she inquired quietly.

“I don’t have anything on me, I didn’t even bring my purse, we were in such a hurry,” Elizabeth responded apologetically and saw Caroline’s expression change from that of slight worry to near fury.

“Did you think they’d just let your precious relative go, no questions asked? How could you be so reckless and not think about it? Or were you too busy thinking what hat to put on? You certainly didn’t forget to select the one that suits your gown and your earrings!” Caroline declared, her anger and irritation growing with each word.

“I am sorry, you didn’t tell me…”

“I go out of my way to help you with all of this and you can’t even think of something so simple on your own! Don’t you have your own head on your shoulders?” Caroline continued to dress down her cousin. “Well, what I have on me is not enough. He paid $50 for her to the paddy rollers and now needs his compensation. And his personal fee on top of that.”

“I don’t have that much with me right now. Can he release Sophie and then I’ll send him the money?” Elizabeth asked meekly.

“It doesn’t look like Sheriff Clark’s in the mood for that. He wants his money now or she’ll stay here until you pay. That’s his words. Do try to negotiate with that savage if you feel like it, I’ve had enough,’’ Caroline continued as she opened her parasol and put one leg on the steps of the carriage, ready to board.

“Wait,” Elizabeth pleaded. “We can’t just leave her here!”

“Why not? She’s in good hands, is she not? At least she’d learn some discipline here, this is not something her hapless and forgetful mistress can teach her, is it?” Caroline said mockingly and settled on the leather seat, her hoop skirt taking half of the open carriage. 

“I have something else I need to attend to. Shall we go?” Caroline continued impatiently and then suddenly her face lit up and she looked at Elizabeth attentively, fixing her eyes on the side of her head.  “Unless you can pay him some other way…”

Elizabeth understood her cousin’s hint, slowly removed her right glove and raised her hand to her ears, touching the small golden earrings she put on that morning, a family heirloom. Surely, they were worth a lot more than what the Sheriff wanted. She could probably leave them as bail and then send someone later to pick them up, she thought to herself.

“I can give him my earrings. Will he take them, you think? I remember you told me how much you liked them, they must have cost a small fortune,” she said and carefully placed the two shiny studs on Caroline’s hand. 

Caroline shrugged her shoulders and looked at the golden jewelry with poorly-contained interest.

“Let me ask. Are you certain, Elizabeth? I know I wouldn’t give any of my jewelry for a slave. And certainly not something as beautiful as this! Was that our grandmother’s?”

“It was. Please, will you talk to the Sheriff?”

“Very well,” Caroline said with a sigh and entered the office again.

A few minutes later she emerged from the building, waving a piece of paper as she declared triumphantly: “It’s done, we can take her!”

The Sheriff exited the office too and watched attentively as Elizabeth took Sophie by the hand and led her to the carriage. Caroline, already seated, her voluminous skirts carefully spread in front of her, looked the runaway over with open disdain and noted dryly: “You are not riding with us. Sit next to the coachman, you’ll spoil my gown!”

“Ooh, that smell!” Caroline waved her hand in front of her nose in a very unladylike fashion when Sophie came closer and turned to the sheriff, a scowl on her face. “Can you give her some water, Sheriff? I am not taking her with me before she washes her dirty face and feet at least. Did you have her clean the outhouse? The stink!”

The Sheriff nodded to Murphy and Sophie, careful not to move her arm too much, was led behind the jailhouse and given a bucket of cold water. She did her best to wash herself without removing the sweaty dress.  She cleaned her face, hands and feet to the best of her ability, even as the pain was shooting up her back and shoulder with even the slightest move. 

When she returned, Caroline did the exaggerated hand-waving gesture in front of the face again, but nonetheless allowed Sophie to climb up to sit next to the coachman, a dignified sixty-something liveried negro with a grey beard who did very little to conceal his displeasure with the fact that he had to share his well-deserved seat with a smelly and ragged stranger.

Sophie sat quietly throughout the journey, holding on to the railing with all the might she could master and trying not to think what would happen next. She was too exhausted from the day’s events and whatever little strength was still left in her was slowly ebbing. Caroline was cheerfully chattering behind her as if nothing extraordinary had happened and Elizabeth, while clearly not in the mood for a jolly conversation, was nonetheless forced to share her opinions on a whole range of topics that apparently were far more important than Sophie’s condition. 

Her burning shoulder was a constant reminder of her plight. What would she tell her parents? How could she be so reckless to allow this to happen to her? She couldn’t find the answer. It was as if fate itself was forcing her to act the way she did. And, more pressingly, when will they leave Cypress Hill? Elizabeth said it would happen soon, but did she mean right away? Tomorrow morning? The day after tomorrow? She had to wait until she was alone with her Mistress to find that out.

That reminded her once again of how helpless she was now. All the decisions were made for her by someone else - Elizabeth, Caroline, the Sheriff, Jones, the overseers… Whatever she thought or felt did not matter in the least - she was told what to do by people that apparently knew better. And she’d learned the hard way what it meant to disobey.

When they arrived at Cypress Hill, Caroline let her cousin and her recovered slave be for a while. She had some urgent household matters to attend to, but there was one small thing she had to do first. She climbed the stairs to her room, locked the door behind her and took out a pair of golden earrings from her coin purse.

A smile crossed her pretty face as she put the saved family heirloom on her vanity. She still couldn’t believe Elizabeth was ready to give them to the Sheriff! That stupid slave girl surely means a lot to her! What was she thinking? Thank Heavens she did take enough money with her to pay off the Sheriff. The fact that she got the heirloom for that was a nice bonus. Well, at least Grandma Florence’s earrings were now safely back in the family, she thought to herself, proud of her ingenuity.

She quickly descended the stairs, her heels clicking furiously on the wooden steps. Rosa, who was busy sweeping the floor, immediately dropped what she was doing and froze in a deep curtsey, her eyes downcast.

“What are you doing here, Rosa? Shouldn’t you be in the kitchen helping with dinner?” Caroline inquired and gave her slave a stern look. “Everything should have been cleaned well before noon. I never took you for a slow one, girl. You’ve disappointed me gravely.”

“Ah’s sorry, Miz! It just wiz Sophie workin’ dem fields we not be havin’ nough gals to work da big house, Miz,” Rosa, still maintaining her curtsey, mumbled without raising her eyes. “I be finishin’ real fast.”

“Do you take me for a fool, Rosa? I treat you nicely, a lot nicer than you deserve, and you pay me back with stupid excuses for your ineptitude? How had you managed to perform your house duties before Sophie’s arrival?” Caroline announced, her eyes narrowing. “Why don’t you be honest with me and confess you’ve been lounging when I was away?”

“Oh no, Miz Caroline! Ah sweah Ah didn’t had no minute’s rest since mawning! Sophie, she’d been doing Lucy work while she’s real sick from dat whippin’. She wuz always doin’ the sweeping b’fore,” Rosa uttered meekly, waiting for Caroline’s response with great trepidation.  She’d seen other slaves punished for a lot less that alleged laziness.

‘Right, Lucy. That lazybone,” Caroline declared in a tone that someone who didn’t know her well could interpret as conciliatory. “That reminds me. The doctor saw her and said she should be ready for work in no time. Go fetch Jones for me, Rosa. You can finish your sweeping later.’’

“Very well, Miz,’’ Rosa departed the room as quietly as she could, taking her long broom with her.

While the mistress of the house was engaged in her household duties, her two guests were in a room upstairs. Elizabeth helped Sophie out of her rags, careful to slowly detach the rough cloth that got stuck to her friend’s burned shoulder. She gasped when she saw the brand for the first time - not only was it a lot larger than she thought it would be, but much of Sophie’s shoulder was now red and swollen.
“It is bad? I want to see,’’ Sophie, demurely holding her arm across her exposed breasts, demanded and turned her back to the vanity, trying to get a glimpse. Her eyes filled with tears again once she saw what would probably remain her distinctive mark for the rest of her life.

“Oh, no! It is hideous! He branded me like an animal!” she cried out and turned to Elizabeth, as if she hoped her Mistress could still fix it all somehow.

Elizabeth looked on as Sophie cautiously touched the brand, a thick and dark letter R - runaway - about five inches long, which was forever pressed into her flesh, and then addressed her friend in a vain hope to comfort her: “It is still very swollen, it will not look so bad in a few days! Here, let us clean it.”

Elizabeth stepped forward and saw their dual reflection in the mirror: a beautiful naked girl, a prominent brand on her shoulder announcing to the world she was a slave, and a fully-dressed lady, her mistress. It was then that she finally realized the enormity of what had happened. She looked her friend in the eyes: there was no doubt that she also understood, even as her mind still struggled to accept the terrible truth. There were the small things - from now on she would have to cover her shoulders at all times, unless alone, and this meant she wouldn't be able to wear the fashionably open ball gowns. Could she even go to a ball if her secret got out? And, the scariest of all, Sophia was all but unmarriageable now. Who would marry a woman with a runaway slave’s brand on her shoulder?

Elizabeth proceeded to clean the clotted skin around the brand with a wet cloth, careful not to push too strongly. Sophie felt like a helpless little girl as she stood in front of the mirror in complete silence, not knowing what to do. Elizabeth also remained silent as she washed her friend’s burned shoulder, trying not to hurt her with her slow wiping moves.

“Your serving uniform is still in the little room, you can put it on now, Sophie,’’ Elizabeth finally declared, perhaps a little too loudly and somewhat unnaturally as if she was acting on stage. And, in a way, she was. For the time being, she was playing her part of a strict mistress and fully expected Sophie to fulfill her side of the bargain.

When Sophie returned, dressed again in the maidservant’s dress with an apron she had worn before she was sent to the fields - the simple garment seemed like expensive finery after the rags she had been forced to wear - Elizabeth asked her to sit next to her on the bed.

“Sophie, I am really sorry about what happened,” she put her velvet hand on Sophie’s and was surprised by how rough it seemed to the touch now. “If only I knew! Please, from now on, just do as you are told. Just behave the way a good slave girl should, understand?”

“Yes, Miz,’’ Sophie responded quietly, her eyes downcast. “I do as I’m told.”

“Very well,’’ Elizabeth stated cheerfully, happy that Sophie wasn’t giving her a useless fight over this. “I hope you don’t blame me for what had happened. If anything, I was trying to help you. If only you hadn’t escaped! Couldn’t you just wait a few more hours? I was on my way to release you.”

“I couldn’t tolerate it a minute longer. They hit me and cursed me. It was awful,’’ Sophie explained, not daring to raise her eyes as if it was somehow all her fault and she had to explain her bad behavior to her mistress.

“Did they treat you any differently than the other slaves though?”

“No.”

“I am sorry, Sophie, but they thought you were a slave sent to the fields as punishment. It would have been strange to expect anything else from them. I hate to tell you, but all of this happened because of your impatience. If only you'd just stayed calm and waited for me. What did you expect to accomplish with your escape?” Elizabeth pressed on.

“Ah’s sorry, Miz,’’ Sophie said, exaggerating her slave accent to show she understood how wrong she was. As much as she hated to admit it, but Elizabeth was right. Not only had she dug her own grave, but she walked right into it with her eyes closed. Now the best course of action was just waiting for their extended visit to be over.

“I am glad you understand that, Sophie,’’ Elizabeth said and squeezed her hand. “You can now set the room in order while I talk to Miss Caroline.”

“Yes, Miz,’’ Sophie rose from the bed and curtsied. “Can Ah ask you somethin’, Miz?”

“Of course you can. What is it?”

“It’s da collar, Miz. It rubs real bad, can you ask to remove it?”

“I will, Sophie. It looks hideous. I will get the key,’’ her Mistress promised and went downstairs.

Elizabeth found her cousin reclining on the veranda, flipping through a novel. On a table next to her was Sophie's bill of sale. Elizabeth walked closer and said firmly: “We’ll be leaving tomorrow morning, Caroline.”

Caroline turned a page and raised her eyes, her rosy lips curled into a smile. 

“Are you? It’s a pity,” she said disinterestedly and turned a page again. “Will there be anything else?”

“Yes, can you give me the key to Sophie’s collar? I’d like to have it removed, it’s rubbing her skin.”

“Is it? I am so sorry to hear that. I don’t have the keys to that collar though. You have to ask Jones,” Caroline said and waved in an imprecise direction somewhere in the fields.

“Could you ask him? I don’t think he’ll listen to me.”

“I could, but why would I?” Caroline closed the book and gave her cousin a steely look. “That girl’s been nothing but trouble and you did absolutely nothing to set her straight. She needs some real discipline, not this “part of the family” treatment you've been giving her. No wonder she’s so spoiled and unfit for real work.”

“Caroline, please, this is not the time. She’s my slave, not yours. And we must be going tomorrow, I can’t remove that collar with my bare hands, can I?”

“Interesting you’d say she’s your slave. I think the Sheriff back in Augusta thinks differently, doesn’t he?”

“Caroline, you couldn’t…”

“But I could," Caroline continued and waved the folded bill of sale in front of Elizabeth. "Unless you show me you can be a true mistress to that spoiled little thing. Come up with a proper punishment for her and I promise I’ll have her unlocked in no time.”

“But she’d already been punished enough. She got branded for Goodness sake!”

Caroline rose from her seat and put the book on the table with a loud bang.

“Punished enough?! She’s got it easy if you ask me,’’ Caroline said angrily and walked very close to Elizabeth, forcing the latter to make a step back. “Many runaways get branded on both cheeks or on their foreheads. A shoulder’s nothing. No one gonna see that. It’s not like she’ll be wearing off-the-shoulder gowns to balls and receptions, is it?”

Elizabeth did not know what to answer to that. A suggestion that Sophie’s got lucky by not having her face branded made perverted sense though. During her time at Cypress Hill, she did see a few slaves, both men and women, with mutilated faces, and a thought that her dear Sophie could have easily ended like them filled her with horror.

“What would you like me to do, Caroline?” she finally asked.

“Show me that you can be a real mistress that does not tolerate disobedience. Even from her favorite slave. Find a fitting punishment for her,” Caroline explained her plan. “Unless you do that, I’ll consider Sophie my slave - and I have a paper to prove that - and come up with something myself.”

“No need for that, Caroline. I am sure I can find a sufficient punishment for Sophie once we are back home,’’ Elizabeth tried to weasel out of the trap, but Caroline was not the kind to let someone escape so easily.

“No, it needs to be done here. I need to see real proof you can be a proper mistress. I only have your best interest at heart. You think you owe that girl special treatment because of who she is but believe me it’s best if you treat her no differently than you would any other slave. She needs to learn her place, and so do you,’’ Caroline lectured her cousin.

“What additional punishment do you think she deserves?” Elizabeth asked, still hoping she could somehow have Caroline change her mind.

“Elizabeth, it should come from you, not from me. You need to be able to decide on such matters without my telling you what to do,” Caroline looked at Elizabeth, almost openly enjoying her cousin’s indecisiveness and embarrassment. “It can’t be too hard, can it?”

“Can we give her some additional kitchen duties? I am sure there are things that other slaves hate doing, she could be assigned to those,’’ Elizabeth finally said under Caroline’s attentive gaze.

“That’s an idea, but I think it’s not enough given the severity of what she’d done. What sort of a lesson will that be to other slaves if they think that a punishment for trying to run away will be cleaning some pots?” Caroline dismissed her cousin’s idea. “Let me help, it’s amazing how inexperienced you are in such matters. Why was she sent to the fields?”

“She burned your gown and that was her punishment. To compensate you,” Elizabeth responded, unclear what Caroline was trying to say.

“Very well. And did I get my compensation? Did she finish her punishment as instructed?”

“No.”

“Then, perhaps, she should return back to the fields? Only this time, shackled. We don’t want her running away again,” Caroline made a suggestion and paused, enjoying Elizabeth’s shocked reaction. “And have her whipped, of course.”

“Caroline, this is too much. She’s already been punished. And we need to be leaving tomorrow, there is no time for that,” Elizabeth tried to protest.

“What’s the rush? You can stay for a few more days. You’d never mentioned until today you had to leave so soon,” Caroline said with mock pity in her voice. “Go if you absolutely must, you can forget about the key to her collar. I am sure any blacksmith can remove it in no time. Oh, and I can’t guarantee your family’s secret will be safe with me.”

Elizabeth struggled for words, trying and failing to come with anything to convince her cousin to change her mind. It hurt her to force more punishment on Sophie - there was no doubt she’d suffered enough - but she also needed Caroline’s help in removing the dreaded collar. Also, her suggestion, made in passing, that Sophie was now legally her slave, scared her. Of course, they both realized the document was forged, but knowing Caroline, would that really stop her from forcing her will on her? She had to play that game or fear the worst and could only pray that Sophie would accept it.

“Very well,’’ Caroline finally responded with a sigh. “You are right. We’ll stay for a few more days. I’ll tell her that she’ll have to work the fields again as she still owes you for that ruined gown. But please no whipping or shackles, she hasn’t fully healed from the branding yet.”

“Fine. Unless she does something to upset me again,” Caroline said, happy that she’d won. “Do not worry, it will do her good. Jones should be here any moment, I’ll get the key from him. Oh, and you can have that bill of sale too, I have no use for it.”

When Jones arrived, a wide-brimmed hat in his hand, he found Miss Cranstone and her guest still on the veranda.

“Did you call, Miss?” he said respectfully and only climbed the stairs when Caroline noticed his existence and waved him in.

“Yes, Jones,” she declared. “Do you have the key to that collar you put on Sophie? Give it to me.”

“Of course, Miss,’’ he responded and handed Caroline a small rusty key he took out from his pocket. “Will that be all?”

“I need you to do something else, Jones,” Caroline continued and pushed the key across the small table toward Elizabeth. “Do you remember Lucy?”

“Lucy? The slave girl that got whipped pretty damn bad for disobeying your brother, Miss?”

“Yes, her,’’ Caroline responded in a somewhat irritated tone. “I believe she’s pretending she’s too weak to return to work. The doctor’s saying she is completely fine. It’s been almost two weeks now! I need you to go to her and make sure she’s back in the house helping with the chores. I will no longer tolerate her laziness. Is that clear?”

“Yes, Miss Cranstone. I’ll make sure she’s working again. I know how to deal with lazy niggers,’’ Jones responded with a smile, exposing his yellow teeth.

“I am sure you do, Jones. You can go now. Oh no, wait. I think we need your help with something else, don’t we Elizabeth?” Caroline said and turned to Rosa, who was standing in the corner, waiting for her mistress’s orders. “Rosa, fetch Sophie here at once. I believe she’s cleaning Miss Elizabeth’s room now.”

“I think Miss Elizabeth has something to tell you, Sophie,” Caroline said theatrically when the two slave girls returned and froze in their curtsey in front of her. “Elizabeth, please.”

Sophie rose her eyes and spotted a familiar bulky figure of Jones by the wooden parapet. The head overseer was playing with his whip and that made her quiver like never before. She turned her head to Elizabeth, hoping to find some support, but was met with a look of arrogant indifference that reminded her of Caroline.

“Sophie, I must say that I.. we.. are very disappointed with your behavior…” Elizabeth began, doing her best to maintain the contrived strictness act for her cousin. “You will now return to the fields to serve your punishment in full. I hope what happened will serve as an important lesson to you.”

Sophie looked at her Mistress in shock, refusing to believe what she’d just heard. Back to the fields? Elizabeth promised they’d be on their way home soon! She looked at Caroline, a smug smile plastered on her face, and it became obvious to her whose idea it was. But why did Elizabeth agree to it? Was it some sort of an agreement between the two? She couldn’t be certain and there was nothing in Elizabeth’s words or facial expression to suggest she wasn’t dead serious when she uttered her verdict.

“You heard her, Jones,’’ Caroline interjected to remind everyone of her authority. “Take her back to that calaboose for now. It’s too late to take her to the fields. She’ll start tomorrow bright and early. Make sure she’s properly shackled - we don’t want a repeat of that escape of hers, do we? And you know what to do if she misbehaves, is that right?”

“I do, Miss,” Jones replied and grabbed Sophie in a repeat of scene from just two days before. Only this time there was no pleading and tears: the girl seemed to have accepted her punishment with strange resignation. Neither was her mistress protesting.

“Don’t forget to go to Lucy after you lock her up,” Caroline continued and rose from her seat. “Now, if you will excuse me, I need to retire to my room. See you at supper, Elizabeth.”

Elizabeth watched as Jones led her secret slave away holding her firmly by the forearm. She hated herself for doing this, but what choice did she have? Her friend’s own stupidity led them to where they were now and, truth be told, ultimately it was all largely Sophie’s fault. If only she’d listened - or not agreed to proceed with this silly and dangerous game at all! Of course, they could just pack and leave, but what if Caroline followed with her thinly-veiled threat to tell everyone about Sophie? Yes, she did not know the truth and thought Sophie was an illegitimate quadroon daughter of her philandering uncle, but even that information, however incorrect, could prove damaging to her family’s and her own reputation! She certainly had to keep Caroline on her side, given her cousin’s character and her connections she was the last person she needed as an enemy.

It was only when Sophie crossed the yard and disappeared behind the stables that Elizabeth remembered that she’d forgotten to unlock the collar. She clutched the iron key in her hand - at least it was with her now and she’d take the terrible thing off the moment they reunited.  What she did not know was that their reunification would happen a lot faster than either of them anticipated.

It was shortly after the Cranstones and their guest had gathered for their evening meal that frantic shouts outside caught everyone’s attention. Philip rose from the table and looked through the window. He couldn’t see anything in the dark and returned to his seat, but a moment later a young man in a torn shirt - Elizabeth recognized one of the field overseers - ran into the room.

“Miss, they got Jones. They are coming here!” the young man said. He leaned against the door frame, trying to catch his breath.

“What in the God’s name are you bumbling about?” Philip said and emptied his glass. “Who’s they? What do they need Jones for? Why they coming? Makes no sense.”

“Shut up, idiot,’’ Caroline interrupted her brother. “What happened, Smith?”

“Ma’am. Mister Jones, he went to that cabin to talk to some nigger who refused to work. So, he dragged her out of bed and hit her in the head so that she’d shut up and listen. You know what a strong man he is and the girl drops dead.”

“He killed Lucy? Why did he have to do that?!” Caroline exclaimed.

“I dunno, Ma’am. She looked too weak and pale, he didn’t do nothin’ to her, just hit her once. So that other nigger, her brother, he jumps at Jones like a wild animal and starts hitting him. Me, I try to stop them, but two other niggers grab me from the back and start beating me with sticks. And then there was a crowd of them, all shouting. So, I got out and ran to warn you! They’ve got knives and sticks. I think they coming here!”

“So you abandoned Jones?!” Caroline cried out.

“Ma’am, I couldn’t help him. There were too many of them!”

“Philip, get the rifles. Smith, you go help him. Elizabeth, lock yourself in your room. Rosa, you go with her,” Caroline started issuing orders. “Quickly, all of you!”

She looked outside and at about a hundred yards saw a large group of slaves, marching quickly towards the main building. Some of them carried torches and sticks, but most appeared unarmed. The man in the center, a large negro with no shirt on, carried a small sack in his hand.   When the group was no more than 20 feet from the porch they suddenly stopped as if an invisible force was preventing them from going any further. The big man rose his hand and the crowd erupted in a loud, rhythmic battle cheer.

“I am giving you one chance to disperse and return to your quarters,’’ a female voice filled the yard and everyone’s eyes turned to Caroline, who entered the porch holding a pistol. Philip and Smith were on her side, both armed with Hall rifles. “We’ve sent for help and the soldiers are going to be here very soon.”

“Better do what she says, boys. She’s got our father’s pistol that was with him at the Horseshoe - and that was used against the Redsticks, not some dumb niggers,’’ Philip said with a smirk. “We got enough bullets for all of ya. Where is Jones?”

The crowd did not bulge, but whispers could be heard across the rows. The leader of the group made a step forward and reached inside his sack. There were audible gulps when he took out a severed, bloodied human head and threw it across the air. It landed right on the porch and jumped off with a loud bang, landing right in front of Caroline, Jones’ frozen eyes fixed on the intricate weaving of her silk petticoat. The defenders stepped back in disgust, but did not lose composure, their weapons pointing at the crowd.

Elizabeth, who was looking on from her second-floor window, gave out a scream and looked away, facing Rosa, who seemed equally scared.

“Rosa, Rosa, you have to help me find Sophie. Do you know where she is?” she asked the slave girl and clutched her dark hands in hers. “Please, she can’t be there all alone.”

“She’s at da calaboose, ma’am. Dat not far.”

“Please, show me the way.”

“Ah can’t, ma’am. Miz Caroline said Ah be staying wiz you in dis room,”

Their frenzied conversation was interrupted by the sound of broken glass. Elizabeth looked outside again and saw that the slaves were now throwing stones and burning torches into the building. The three defenders were no longer on the porch and she could hear furniture being moved downstairs as they were trying to barricade themselves.

“Rosa, I beg you. Take me to Sophie. I need to save her,” Elizabeth lowered on her knees in front of the slave. “I can’t find it myself!”

“Yes, Miz,” Rosa finally gave in. “We teik da back door. You follow me.”

The two of them took the servant’s exit - luckily the crowd was at the front door - and rushed across the dark yard trying to stay in the shadows. The left wing was now on fire and it looked like it was only a matter of time before it spread to the rest of the main building. Gunshots filled the night air; the sounds of shouting were becoming more and more distant as they reached the cabin where Sophie was kept.

They unlocked the wooden bolt - luckily for them Jones did not bother to use the iron lock -  and found Sophie sitting on a small pile of hay in the corner.

“Miss.. Rosa? What is happening? I’ve heard gunshots,” she asked weakly, barely believing it wasn’t a dream and they’ve indeed come to rescue her. She’d spent the last hour in tears - both from her wounded shoulder and what she assumed was her Mistress’s betrayal - but now all was forgotten. She did come to save her after all!

“Sophie, please hurry up. We don’t have much time. I’ll explain everything to you later,’’ Elizabeth responded in a hushed tone.

The three of them made their way back to the stables and Elizabeth, with Rosa’s help, opened the door and led out a mare that only yesterday she rode during her morning ride with Caroline. She looked at Sophie - no, she was too weak and tired to ride alone, they’d have to do it together.

“Rosa, we’ll ride to town for help,” Elizabeth said and mounted her horse. Rosa helped the groaning Sophie to climb behind her. There’s been a loud barrage of fire as she said it and suddenly everything went very quiet for a few seconds and then a woman’s scream filled the air.

“Ah thinks it’s too late, Miz,’’ Rosa suddenly said, her eyes smiling. “Them got what wuz comin’ to dem. Ah likes you and Ah likes Sophie, but Miz Caroline... Ah says you go home, Miz, before them field hands see you.”

“Rosa, you can come with us if you’d like. I can say you’ve got nothing to do with it,” Elizabeth responded after a brief pause as she took in what the slave had just told her.

“No, Miz. Ah have to be with my people. Goodbye, Sophie. Ah promise Ah tell no one bout that secret you got,” Rosa said with a smile.

“My secret? What do you mean, Rosa?” Sophie asked quizzically, feeling her heart drop.

“Yer know. You and Miz Lizbeth you be talking too loud. Ah still likes you, you don’t worry bout nothin,” she said and walked back toward the main building.

The slaves were too busy destroying what was left of the Cranstone residence, smashing the dishes and the vases and throwing family portraits and broken furniture into the fire, to notice two women double-riding away from the plantation, the one on the back holding firmly against the front rider’s narrow waist.

They stopped briefly at the grassy knoll where only recently the two of them had spent the time together, chatting and laughing.  More than half of the main building - seen beautifully against the backdrop of the night sky - was now consumed by fire. A few dead bodies could be seen next to the stairs, but it was hard to tell from the distance if they were the defenders or the attackers. There was little doubt about the identity of one victim though - that of a woman, hanging from a tree face down, her semi-ripped hoop skirt cascading to the ground.

Sophie looked away as Elizabeth skillfully guided the horse toward the main road. 

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