Hey guys, I'm on a roll! Hope you like it!
Disclaimer: I don't own King or Django! Just Sara, and she's enough trouble!
By the time they got to Tennessee Django had become a visibly better rider. On their way there they had stopped for lunch, while the horses grazed and the men ate Sara sat to the side stirring something up in a bowl, before spreading a thick paste on a long strip of bandage. "Django," she called over to him and he looked at her curiously before looking to King who nodded, indicating he should go see what the young woman wanted. He got up and walked over to her, sitting down when she patted the ground. "Take off your boots please." She requested and he shot her an odd look. "I want to treat your wounds."
"I had worse." He tried to brush it off.
"All the same," she replied easily. "Take off your boots." He looked over to King who chuckled as he puffed on his pipe.
"You had best listen to her," he grinned. "Doctor's orders." Django complied after a moment and she sucked in a breath, before looking at him.
"Does it hurt?" she asked.
"Don't feel good." He replied and she nodded.
"Okay, I'm going to wash the wounds first," she told him as she moved over to him on her knees. She dragged a small basin full of water she had boiled and then let cool along with her and dipped a clean rag into it. After rubbing the damp rag against the unscented bar of soap she had bought in town, she softly dabbed at the wounds, they had scabbed over, broken again, bled, oozed pus and were in the process of scabbing again. She cleaned his ankles with a strong attention to detail, and while Django made no sounds, she looked at him for an indication of if he was in pain. When he was, she would change what she was doing.
After cleaning his wounds, thus turning the water in the basin red, she dried them off and then started to apply the bandages that had the paste on them. "What that is?" he asked and she looked up at him, almost as if she had forgotten he was there.
"It's a paste of Chamomile flower, lavender, and some aloe to help prevent infection, and promote healing." She replied. After she finished wrapping the bandages she looked him in the eye. "If it gets any worse, if it hurts or swells up or anything, you tell me right away." She instructed and he nodded.
"Yes ma'am." He replied dryly making her smile.
"Go finish your lunch Django." She grinned before she stood up and took the bowl, dumping it out in the field of mustard flowers they were sitting in.
By the time they were in Tennessee the swelling had mostly gone down in Django's ankles, and the wounds were starting to heal quite well. The three of them had found they could converse quite easily, when Django realized they weren't the types to get offended listening to a black man speak his mind, he did just that. After they got close to the first town on their list, Gatlinburg, they decided to stop and camp outside of Chattanooga, and camp rather than go into the large town and deal with all the racists.
"Ain't no woman gon' want ta sleep outside." Django was saying to King as they made camp while Sara led the horses to a spring close by so they could get a drink.
"Sara is quite accustom to the lifestyle she's chosen." King assured Django. "She once lived with a tribe of Indians for close to a year." King added with a small chuckle while Django looked off in the direction that Sara had gone off in.
"What she do that for?" he asked and King thought for a moment before shaking his head.
"That is Sara's story to tell." He told Django who looked off in the direction that Sara had gone off in again.
The next morning Sara rose before the two men and dressed behind a rock. She went to the fire that she had covered in ashes the night before and removed them before taking a handful of dried grass and putting it over the embers. She blew on the embers, and after a moment she was rewarded with the embers becoming hot enough to catch on the dried grass and light. She put some dried bark and sticks she had gathered the night before on the fire and then started to cook. By the time Django got up, she was almost finished cooking breakfast. Beans and a biscuit with a cup of hot coffee, Django walked over to her as she held out a plate for him and he sat down. A Little while later King woke up and looked over at Sara and Django as the two talked to each other softly.
"It seems I'm the late riser this morning." King chuckled as he got up, practically blinding Django and Sara with his scarlet red long johns. She smirked lightly at the sight of them but chose not to say anything as he got dressed.
"What's the plan?" she asked and he sighed.
"Well I'm still working on it." He admitted.
"What we need a plan for?" Django asked. "We go in, look an' see if the Brittle Brothers is there, an' we shoot 'em." He looked at Sara and King who simultaneously shook their heads.
"And what happens when the Brittle Brothers see us first and decide to shoot not only you and myself, but my wife and child as well?" King asked. "No, One needs a plan son. These are brutal times. A man who survives, is a man with a plan. A man who thrives, is a man with a good plan." King explained, before thinking. "So having said that, what is your plan young Django?"
"What you mean?" Django asked.
"Well after this Brittle business is behind us, you'll be a free man with a horse, and seventy five dollars in your back pocket. What's your plan after that?" King asked.
"Find my wife," Django took a bite of his food. "Buy her freedom."
"Django," King looked at their new friend in surprise. "I had no idea you were a married man." He slipped his suspenders over his shoulders. "Do most slaves believe in marriage?"
"Me an' my wife do." He continued to eat as Sara loaded another scoop of food onto his plate. "Old man Carruccan didn't, that's why we uh…" he shifted slightly. "We run off." Sara looked at him curiously before gestured to the spot on her cheek mirroring the r on his cheek. He nodded and she looked away before fixing up a plate for her late sleeper husband. "After that, we was brought to Greenville an' sold. I dunno who bought her." He explained.
"In Greenville," King thought aloud as he walked to the fire and picked up the coffee tin, he poured himself a cup and then walked over to Django. "There's at least some sort of a records office. You know when she was sold," he poured another cup of coffee for Sara and then one for Django. "You know where she came from, and you know her name." King sat down next to his wife who handed him his plate.
"What is her name Django?" she asked.
"Broomhilda." He replied as he sipped his coffee.
"What?" King asked in surprise.
"Broom-Hilda." He replied.
"Brunhilda?" King asked and Django nodded. "Were her owners German?" he asked though he already seemed to know the answer.
"Yeah, how you know?" Django asked. "She weren't born on the Caruccan plantation, she was raised by a German mistress, the Von Shaft's. She speak a little German too." Django added.
"Your wife?" King leaned forward in awe and Django nodded.
"Mm-hmm." He replied. "When she was little her mistress taught her so she'd have somebody to speak German with." He explained.
"My god," Sara looked at King who had taken her hand.
"Wait wait wait, your slave wife speaks German and her name is Brunhilda Von Shaft?" he asked.
"Yup." Django confirmed. "Most people's too hard to say Broomhilda. Always used to say to people ta call her Hildi." He smiled gently.
"She sounds lovely Django." Sara smiled at him and he nodded.
"Ain't nothin' lovelier." He agreed, before looking at Sara. "I don't mean you ain't-"
"Django, nothing can compare to the love a man has for his wife." She told him easily. "If you say there is no one lovelier than Broomhilda, then there is no one lovelier than Broomhilda, do not change your statement on my behalf." She assured him. "I just hope I get to meet her one day." She told him before taking the empty plates to the basin of water she had prepared to do the washing up. King jumped up instantly when he realized what she was doing and removed his coat, and rolled his shirt sleeves to his elbows. He knelt next to his wife, helping her do their dishes while Django watched a white man do the dishes he had eaten off of. He stared at the two for a long moment, before deciding he hoped Hildi met them too.
"I know how we're going to find the Brittle Brothers," King told Django and Sara who looked at him expectantly. "The first plantation is owned by a Mr. Bennett his main money maker is cotton, but a close second is his African flesh." He explained.
"Big Daddy Bennett? He run tha pony ranch." Django explained.
"I'm sorry, what's a Pony?" Sara asked.
"It a comfort slave." He explained and she nodded, keeping her mouth shut.
"Well, we ride in and say we're looking for a pony for Django, while we're doing business, Django has a look around, and if the Brittle Brothers are there, we kill them." King explained his plan.
"What am I doing?" Sara asked.
"You will play the role of my beautiful wife," he explained as he took her hand making her smile.
"I think I can handle that." She told him and he kissed the top of her hand.
"But that leaves Django," King looked at their new friend.
"To gain access to these plantations, we'll be putting on an act," King was explaining to Django in the middle of the Chattanooga house slave uniform store while they went over the plan quietly. "You'll be playing a character." Django picked up a top hat and put it on before looking at King who shrugged and then waved his hand back and forth.
"No?" Django asked and King shook his head with a smile.
"In the middle of the act, you can never break character," King explained. "Do you understand?"
"Yeah," Django looked at him. "Don't break character."
"Your character is that of the valet." King continued.
"What that is?" Django asked.
"It's a fancy word for servant." King explained.
"Valet." Django tried out the new word and then grinned.
"And now Django, you may chose your character's costume."
"You's gonna let me pick out my own clothes?" he leaned towards King looking at him doubtfully.
"But of course." King confirmed.
When the two walked out of the store they found the dress shop that Sara had gone into. There they found Sara standing in front of a mirror with a woman who was buttoning up the back of a dress. Sara turned around and smiled at the two. Django couldn't help but notice she was holding herself differently than usual; she seemed to be standing straighter, but stiffer than usual. She was wearing a dress made of a beautiful chocolate color, it had a long perfect skirt that fell to her toes in two tiers, and had beautiful flower springs embroidered on the skirt. The dress went off her shoulders, and the ruffled sleeves went to her elbows. It was a v-necked dress, thus showing off her most feminine of curves.
"What do you think?" she asked and Django nudged King discreetly making King smile.
"My dear," he stepped forward, and took her hand. "Every waking moment I marvel in your beauty, and I think myself to be the luckiest man alive." He kissed her knuckles making her smile. "But in this dress," he continued. "You reveal yourself to be the goddess I know I married."
"Are you responsible for her?" the shop owner asked.
"I'm afraid my good woman she is responsible for me." King replied without breaking eye contact from his wife.
"A girl like her ought not be walking the streets alone, not in her condition. Where is her maid?"
"You're quite right my good woman." King looked at her. "The truth is our last maid proved to be too much of a nuisance, therefore we are on our way to purchase a new one, but this, like any other engagement called for a new dress for my darling wife. We'll take it."
"Will you wear them out?" the woman asked Sara who nodded.
"Them?" King asked.
"The dress and the corset."
"I'm afraid you are mistaken, my wife is pregnant, and obviously so. She doesn't wear a corset."
"It's a maternity corset." Sara explained as she ran her hand over her stomach. "It is different than any other corset and it gives support to the baby as well as myself." King didn't look pleased, but he paid for the dress and the corset without another word.
When they got back to camp they made dinner and discussed the plan one more time for the next day before deciding to call it a night. Django was almost asleep before he heard the married couple talking is hushed voices. "This thing is cutting into your skin." King hissed in disgust.
"It's been many months since I've worn one," she countered. "It will take me some time to get used to it again."
"It's tangled," King muttered, before there was a ripping sound and a gasp.
"Are you kidding me?" Sara asked and Django smiled to himself lightly. "You're buying new laces for that."
"Yes dear." Django could tell King was smirking by the sound of his voice making Django chuckle lightly and roll over before going to sleep.
Hey guys, I just wanted to say, yes, the maternity corset was a thing, I found a picture of it while I was researching the fashion at the time for a pregnant woman. I feel like King would be against Sara wearing a maternity corset because he's against anything that causes her any discomfort, let along discomfort to his future child. I hope you guys liked the chapter! I'll try to have another one out later tonight!
Please don't forget to review!