Chapter 18: Changes

The judge finally recovered from his surprise. "Well, that puts a different take on things," he said. "It appears, Mr. Walbrook, that you have been lying, and Mr. Logan was telling the truth. The fine is revoked, the jail sentence is lifted upon Mr. Logan. You, Mr. Walbrook," the judge pointed to the well-dressed man, "will pay to the court a fine of two dollars for lying." He sighed. "Now, about the slave. A verbal agreement is still binding, therefore the court awards ownership of slave 87264 to Mr. John Logan, and papers to that effect will be drawn up following this proceeding. Mr. Logan, I would advise that the next time you enter upon a transaction of this kind, you will obtain written proof of the agreement." He sighed. "Now, about the slave. I realize that you bought her with the intent of freeing her, and knew nothing about her brand. From the familiarity with which she addresses you, I assume you have become somewhat closer to her than the normal master/slave relationship. This must be stopped, Mr. Logan. She is property, much like your horse or your chickens or your cattle are. You must treat her as such, in accordance with the laws of the state.

"I will grant you one week in which to rectify any unacceptable living conditions which might currently be the norm on your property. A bailiff will arrive at your property one week from today to inspect her accommodations and make sure they are in accordance to the law of the state. So noted." He rapped his gavel.

Jubilee stumbled into his arms, sobbing and shaking, and for a moment he just held her, feeling his own legs begin to shake. He had almost lost her, God, he had come so close to losing her to that bastard…maybe Hunt had some backbone after all. He intercepted the man as the storekeeper went out the door. "Thank ya, Hunt," he said. "Ya did the right thing. Mighty obliged ta ya." The man ducked out of the door without even looking at him, and Logan frowned as he saw the man limping away.

The judge said sharply, "Slave. You know the rules." Jubilee let go of him with a last look and took a step behind him, lowering her eyes and her head. Logan bit his lip. Well, once they were out of town they would forget this whole slave thing.

The judge was filling out a paper. "Have you a name you wish to give her, or should I just use her number?" he asked Logan. Logan gritted his teeth.

"Her name is Jubilation Lee. Jubilee."

"A surname is not required," the judge said. "She will take your surname until such a time as she is transferred to another owner. Jubilee, then. Sign there." He handed the quill pen to Logan, and Logan signed the blank that said 'owner'. "Now. Since she is a slave, and the brand is not in a place one would be able to see at a glance, she must be collared, or branded elsewhere if you choose. You must see the smith before you leave. Dismissed."

Remy met him outside the door. "You got your girl," he said.

"Yeah," Logan said, glancing back at the silent child standing behind him. "Thank God Hunt decided to be a decent fellow. Must thank him sometime."

"Don' bot'er,' Remy snapped, striking a match against the outside boards and lighting an expertly-rolled cigarette. "He wasn't goin' to do not'ing. Dat Walbrook, he tol' Hunt dat he could sleep wit' her if he lie to de judge."

Logan's eyes narrowed. "What changed his mind?" he asked.

From under his coat the Frenchman produced one of the tiniest knives Logan had ever seen. "Dis did," he smiled. "Dat man value his manhood more den he want her. He rat'er be able to mount a whore again."

Logan stared at the dagger for a moment, then shook his head. "You Cajuns do things different," he said.

"Oui," Remy grinned, smiling. "Now you got an appointment wit' de smit', and den you got to go home an' change some t'ings."

Logan shook his head. "It's my home, I do what I want in it," he said. "I don't care what the judge said."

Remy grabbed his arm. "Don' let nobody hear you say dat, mon ami," he hissed. "Dey got laws for slaves. Didn' you hear dat judge? You got to do what de law says, or de goin' to take her 'way from you. And who you t'ink goin' to buy her when de judge put her up for auction here?"

"I don't know what the law says!" Logan said, exasperated. "I ain't never owned a slave before!"

Remy shook his head. "I tell you what, Remy go home wit' you an' make sure you followin' all de rules. Okay? Now get to de smit'. He got to put a collar on her. Don't got to be big, just got to be somet'ing metal roun' her neck to show you own her."

Logan walked into the smithy, Jubilee following him slowly. The smith, a big man with large hands and a black beard and hair, dusted off his hands. "Heard you was coming," he said. "Tell you one thing, friend, I don't hold with owning no slaves either. That's why I moved out here. She don't look like no slave, but law says ya gotta get her a collar, right?" He reached for a thin bar of iron and shoved it into the forge.

"File it good," Logan snapped. "Her last one cut her neck up."

The smith turned to her. "Lift your chin up a little so's I can see, hey?" Jubilee obediently lifted her chin, and he saw the faded scars on her throat. He made a tsking sound. "Won't give her nothing to leave marks like that," he snorted, turning toward the forge. "Would be an insult to my skills. I never make something that isn't smooth." He took the bar out of the forge and put it on his anvil, then began to beat it with a hammer.

An hour later he had a thin circle of iron, seemingly delicate but unbreakable. He shaped it into an oval, then slipped it around her neck to see how it sat. After some more pounding and effort, he had a thin oval of iron that conformed to her throat and curved gently downward over her shoulders, and put a small notch in the center of it, at the hollow of her throat. Taking a small circle of brass, he etched the name Jubilee Logan on it and bored a hole through the top, then slid it on the iron necklace until it came to rest on the notch in the hollow of her throat. "There," he said. "Now it's still a collar, still has her name and her owner's last name, but it ain't gonna leave no marks on her, and it won't be uncomfortable for her to wear."

Logan was speechless. "Thank you," he said finally. He hadn't expected such courtesy.

Jubilee fingered the collar and the brass tag wonderingly. Her name. She had a tag with her name and Logan's name on it. She was Jubilee Logan now. "Thank you," she said gently, timidly.

The smith grinned and offered her a cup of water. "Here. It's mighty hot in here. And I bet you want something to eat, too." He pressed a biscuit in her hand, a biscuit with a slice of beef between each side, and she bit into it hungrily.

Logan led her back out into the street, where Remy met him. "You got to get some t'ings from de store," Remy said, steering him in the direction of the nearest general store. "I get de t'ings out of de room and saddle de horses."

Logan walked into the general store and started picking up things Remy had told him he needed. A small pad of paper, expensive, but Remy told him was necessary; a pen, a black dress, needle, thread, and a bolt of cloth. After that, he left Logan to his own devices. Logan had Jubilee try on some of the shoes the store offered until they found a pair that would fit, and then left the store.

Remy was waiting out front with three horses. Jubilee was about to mount Molly when Remy put his hand on her arm. "Logan, got dat paper? She got to have written permission for her to get on a horse."

"But I'm with her!" Logan protested.

Remy shook his head, "Don' matter. She need written permission, or she walks." As Logan scribbled a line on the paper and signed his name, he couldn't help but think things were going to be very different from now on. And he hated it.

Remy ran a practiced eye over his fence as he opened it, and said, "You goin' to want to make a lock for dat gate, mon ami. Ot'erwise you goin' to have people sneakin' in here to see what you an' her doin'." Logan decided that was the first thing he'd do.

The Cajun looked around at the cabin. "Nice place," he said. "But she can't have no room 'o her own."

"Where she gonna sleep?" Logan sounded indignant.

"She sleep on de floor, or next to you, or you put her in de barn if you want her to have her privacy. But she can't have no room of her own. Dat wall have to come down. An' get her t'ings out of dat chest. She not supposed to have not'ing of her own."

"What 'bout her clothes?" Logan said. "Where is she supposed to put them?"

Jubilee spoke. "If you have any of those nails left, you could drive them into the wall and I can hang stuff off them," she said, sounding a little more like her old self. "And anyway, I'm only supposed to have two dresses. One cotton and one wool, for when it gets colder." She looked longingly at the doeskin tunic Red Doe had given her. "I can't wear that."

Logan stared at it, fighting tears. Her favorite shirt. She couldn't wear it anymore because some damn law said she couldn't. He opened his chest and put the shirt in it.

She saw his face. "It's okay, Papa…Logan," she said softly. "I'd rather be here than with the Railmaster."

Remy sighed. "You know de rules, Jubilee," he said. "You got to call him 'master' now."

Jubilee repeated dutifully, "Master Logan." Logan wanted to scream and throw something.

"Only call me that when other people around," he snapped harshly. "Call me whatever ya feel like when there ain't nobody around." He turned to Remy. "There a problem with that, Louisiana gumbo?"

"Non, non," Remy shook his head. "Dat fine. Now. She can' sit an' eat wit' you. She got to eat separate."

Logan grumbled, but after he cooked the noon meal, Jubilee sat on the floor by the hearth and ate off a plate on her knees while he and Remy ate sitting in the chairs. "Now," Remy said when the meal was done, "She got to spend fifteen hours a day working, wit' one half-hour for meals t'ree time a day. Dere ain't much to do 'roun' here, but washing dishes and doin' chores gonna help fill in de time. Feed and water de animals, do de cookin' and cleanin', and after she done dat maybe if you set up a garden for her she can work on dat. Den dere's all dat cloth I tol' you to pick up. She can learn to do some needlework on dat. Sewin' takes up a lot of womenfolk's time, an' dat be a good way for her to be occupied wit'out wearin' her out."

Logan interrupted him. "We don't gotta keep her occupied fifteen hours a day, no matter what de damn law says," he said. "This is my home."

Remy got up and threw open the door. "Look, Logan," he snapped. "Look out dere. Dat stand of trees over dere? Dem t'ree men been dere since we come in here, watchin' to see how much work she doin' an' whether you followin' de law. If you not, dey goin' to take her away from you and sell her, and you goin' to lose her." Logan stared, stunned.

"It ain't goin' to be easy livin' here wit' her as a slave," Remy snapped. "Dat's why I want you to give her to me! I take her to Canada wit' me, free her, den send her back to you! So she be free an' don't have to follow no stupid damn law!"

"I won't go," Jubilee said timidly, crossing the floor to sit at Logan's feet, laying her head on his knee. "I'd rather live here as a slave and work all day than be anywhere Papa isn't."

Remy stared at her, then said, "And are you willing to be de kind of slave dat brand says you s'posed to be? You call him Papa. Are you goin' to be able to do what you s'posed to do if you t'ink of him like dat?"

Jubilee raised her chin defiantly. "Yes. I will. I love him. He won't hurt me like the other slaves did. And since Red Doe says I'm opened now, it won't hurt at all. And even if it does hurt I'll deal with it. I did before. I'll deal with it again if that's what I have to do to stay here."

Logan stood up abruptly. "Suppose ya tell me what it is I'm supposed ta do dat's goin' ta hurt ya," he said angrily. Jubilee stared at the floor, lip trembling, and Remy finally answered his question.

"Dat brand be on her hip, mon ami," he said, his voice soft. "Putting a brand on a slave dere mean dey s'posed to share your bed."

Logan sucked in a breath in shock. "I ain't never goin' to let her do dat!" he yelped. "I ain't never wanted little girls like that!"

"But dat's what she become a slave for," Remy said. "Dat Walbrook, he t'ink she pretty, he brand her dere because eventually he goin' to have her under him. You don' know what it like, Logan. Dere be girls no older dan her on plantations havin' dey master's bastards." He finished quietly, "My mot'er was fifteen when she give birt' to me."

"Fifteen…" Logan choked on the word.

Jubilee looked at Remy with sudden understanding. "You were a slave?"

"Was," Remy said. "Man name Charles buy me from down sout', take me to Canada to make me a free man."

Jubilee looked intently at him, and he met her eyes squarely. After a moment, she said softly, "Masters brand little boys too."

"Yes." A nerve in Remy's jaw twitched.

"You branded too?" Logan asked. "Where you branded?"

Remy gritted his teeth. "None of your business, Logan."

Jubilee went to Remy and wrapped her arms around him, in a gesture Logan had never seen her use for anyone other than him. "I'm sorry, Remy. I'm sorry they did that to you."

"I'm sorry dey done dat to you too," Remy patted her shoulder awkwardly.

Logan stood there, feeling left out. There was a bond of shared experience between them that he didn't understand, couldn't understand. After a moment he cleared his throat. "Well, I'll git on out with the horses. Uh, kid, if ya wanna go out ta the creek and wash the dishes, we might's well show them peepin' toms out there that I'm followin' them damn laws. You was right, Gumbo, I'm glad I ain't never put windows in here. And since it's gittin' dark, ya might's well stay here fer the night. Looks like she goin' to be sleepin' out in the damn barn from now on, ya might's well use her bed." He left.

Somewhat embarrassed, Jubilee picked up the bucket of dirty dishes and headed out to the creek to wash them. Remy took a moment more to compose himself, then went out to tend to his own horse.