Chapter 21: Growing Up
Days turned into weeks, weeks turned into months, months turned into years. Logan and Jubilee settled into a daily routine that followed the letter of the law, even if they trampled all over the spirit of it.
The last spike was driven into the railroad that connected the western territories to the East, and the railroad work crew departed, much to Logan's relief. Walbrook was gone, back East, and he and Jubilee were left alone. The court's visits, at first every week, dwindled to once a month, then once every two months, then died off altogether. The population of Jackson and Jonesboro exploded, and soon the original inhabitants of the town were the wealthiest citizens. Wealth meant more luxury goods were shipped out, faster and cheaper, and some things that Logan missed from when he was living East came back into his life. Jubilee had found an old cookbook of Annie's among his things, and with his help, had started learning the recipes in it. He now had fresh bread she baked daily, and sweet butter. He'd bought another milk cow for her, and a churn, and it was nice having bread and butter again. They had straw ticks on their beds now; as soon as the sheriff had stopped coming he had moved her back on her bed. She still slept in the barn, sometimes, especially on nights when it was hot or when she had her woman's time.
The soldiers and the citizens of town had long since lost their fascination with Jubilee, since there were now so many new slaves in town, and more coming in daily. Logan watched them walk by whenever he was in town. Most of them looked like any other citizen on the street, except for the lowered eyes and head, and the slave collars around their throats. A few, though… a few of those slaves reinforced his personal belief that slavery was wrong. These slaves looked like they'd been beaten into the dirt and stomped on, looked hopeless and tired and defeated. Many of the male slaves who looked like that had deep, horrific whip scars on their backs. And not a few of the female slaves were swollen-bellied and ripely pregnant. They were all African. Logan was beginning to realize that Jubilee, with her light skin, was an oddity among them. When they rode into town, the African slaves stared at her; and when he would go inside and leave her outside to hold the horses he would almost invariably come out to find an African slave woman asking Jubilee how she'd gotten to be a slave.
Slave auctions were now a regular occurrence in both towns. Logan paused on the outskirts of one auction one day, out of curiosity; and saw male and female African slaves paraded on the auction block, led around by a collar and chain leash like Jubilee led Snow around, some with and some without clothes. Logan winced at the sight of one woman, wearing no clothing, covered in whip marks from her shoulders to her heels. Jubilee had shuddered, and he had turned away, sickened by the sight. Not his girl. His girl would never be marked like that.
Then one day he'd come out of a store and found her being pelted with dirt and rubbish from the streets by two African boy slaves. She'd crouched down, trying to protect herself from the stones, but not having much success. He'd chased the boys off, and asked Jubilee what had happened, but she didn't tell him until they were well out of town.
"The slaves don't like me," she said, shocking him. He'd thought all slaves would sympathize with each other. "I wear clothes, I'm fed, I sleep in a bed, eat when I want to, and they've never seen me whipped. They said I have it easy, and they said that since I was giving it to you so well that I could earn all these things, that maybe I could show them what you found so attractive about me."
Logan had ground his teeth. After Walbrook left and a new general store had opened up in Jonesboro, he'd started going there again because it was closer. Forget that. He'd go to Jackson, no matter how far it was.
He stood looking at the shelf of women's trinkets in the store, trying to think of something to get her. It had been three years ago tomorrow since she'd come into his life; she'd be seventeen. And she had grown up to be a beautiful woman. He picked up a pretty necklace of blue glass beads the same color as her eyes, and carried that to the counter along with the flour and yeast she needed to make bread, and the salt, sugar, coffee, and more rifle shells. As he was waiting for the storekeeper to total up his purchases, a man tapped him on the shoulder. "Howdy, there, mister."
"Hey," Logan said warily. Who was this stranger?
"Is that your girl out there with the horses?" The man said. Logan nodded slowly.
"She's a mighty pretty girl. Exotic, with all that hair and the pretty eyes." The man cleared his throat. "How much you want to sell her for?"
Logan bit back the growl. "She ain't fer sale."
The man hemmed. "Well, see, Mister, my wife's sort of taken a fancy to your slave, and she wants to see what the children'd look like if your girl was crossed with my black stud, Joseph. Black stud, yellow mare, their kids'd be pretty exotic. Fetch a good price at the block when time comes to be sold; if she has girls they could go for as much as three hundred apiece, if they're pretty. Her boys'd go for five hundred each. I'll offer ya six hundred for her."
Logan's eyes popped. Six hundred was the price of one of his good geldings, but it was nowhere near the value of her companionship, her presence, in his life. "She ain't fer sale, stranger," Logan insisted.
"Oh, please reconsider," said a female voice, and Logan saw a plump, matronly woman come from the back of the store with a handful of sewing needs and a bolt of cloth. "I've got my heart set on your girl. She's so pretty. And she'd drop such lovely children. Please?"
Logan gritted his teeth. The storekeeper watched interestedly, forgetting about Logan's purchases in the exchange. "I ain't sellin'," he said stubbornly. "She ain't gonna go with ya, anyway."
"Oh, don't worry, I can fix that," the woman said. "A few taps with the buggy whip on her bare back will change her mind." Logan stared at the woman, appalled. How could a woman talk so coolly about whipping another woman? "I tol' ya, she ain't fer sale," he said.
The storekeeper leaned forward. "That there little slave o' his's a branded body slave," he said to the man and woman. "There was a ruckus here a few years back when he tried to free her and her former owner said she'd been branded a body slave for life."
"Oh," the woman said, understandingly. "Well, when you want her all you have to do is knock. We'll be willing to let you have a few hours with her each week when you come to town. Or...I do have a little filly at home, Prissy, she serves as the body slave for our household. I had her hired out to Miss Hannah's a few months back, and she come back after a month with some exotic new skills she said some passing man taught her. We'll be willing to trade Prissy for your girl. That way you wouldn't be without female companionship."
"No!" Logan grabbed his hat off the counter, slapped a five on the counter to cover the purchases, and gathered everything up in his arms, going out to where the small wagon he'd built sat out by the hitching rail. Jubilee was checking the straps on the horse's bridles and traces, studiously, trying to ignore the obviously interested looks of the African slave holding the bridles of the horses next to her. Logan dropped all his purchases in the wagon bed as she climbed up into the seat, then got angrily onto Dark Star and turned him. Jubilee flicked the driving reins across the horse's back, and followed him out of the town.
"What happened, Papa?" she said when they were finally surrounded by empty prairie and on their way home. "Why are you so mad?"
"That African who was standin' next ta ya," Logan ground out through gritted teeth, "His Master asked me if I'd consider sellin' ya to them ta breed children with him. Said their slave was handsome, and yer pretty, and you'd 'drop' some pretty children that would fetch a lot on the auction block."
Jubilee didn't explode into temper, as he'd expected. Instead, she said softly, "Papa, he was handsome."
Logan turned. He'd been so certain she would hate the idea that he'd never thought to ask her. "Ya see yerself with one like him?" he asked, disbelievingly.
"No!" Jubilee said, startled. "I said…well…he was handsome, Papa, but that doesn't mean I want him. I'd like to have children one day, but not with someone like him. And…" Her lower lip trembled. 'I don't think I could bear to see my children sold away from me. Papa, please, if I ever have any you won't sell them away, will you?"
"No!" Logan was horrified at the thought, and stopped Dark Star in his tracks. "Yer kids're yer kids. I wouldn't never send them off!"
"What if they were yours?" she asked, so softly he almost didn't hear her. It took a moment for that to penetrate.
"What?" he stared at her.
"What if they were yours?" she repeated. "Logan, I may call you Papa, but you're not, not really. You're my Master, and I can't forget that. I'm also a branded body slave. I don't know why you're waiting to use me for what I was branded for. The last time we were in Jackson I saw a girl go by, and she was the same age I was when you bought me from the Railmaster, and she was pregnant. She was proud of it. She said she was doing what she was supposed to do, serving her master the way he wanted her to, and giving him a child he said he'd never sell away from him because it was his. His wife would raise the child, because it was so close to white you'd never be able to tell the difference, and he'd grow up to be a free man. I want that, Logan. I want to know that my children will be free, won't be sold, because they're a free man's child and are therefore free too. If I'm bred to a slave they'll be slaves too. I can't change what I am, but maybe I can change what they'll be."
"I am NOT going to use you like that!" Logan exploded, shouting in frustration. "Is that why you suddenly started sleepin' on the floor beside my bed? You want me ta take ya, use ya like that? I won't do it!"
Tears filled her eyes. "Then what was I branded for?" she whimpered. "Why did I endure all that pain when the brand touched my skin? It hurts, when I see you coming around the side of the barn, or when you head for town all dressed up in the afternoons for Miss Gina's or Miss Hannah's. I know what you're going to do there, and I feel worthless, because you don't think I'm pretty enough to use me for what I'm supposed to be used for." She slapped the reins on the horse's back and hurried the wagon past him, crying.
Logan stood there, stunned speechless. He'd never thought she would mind his visits to the whorehouses in town. He'd never thought she knew. Was that what she thought, that he didn't think she was pretty enough to use for bed games? Did she think…did she really feel like she was worthless?
He found her lying facedown on her bed, sobbing. He sat beside her and patted her back gently until her sobs died off into sniffles. "Jubilee," he said gently. "I don't think yer ugly, or nothin' like that. Yer a beautiful girl." Truthfully, sometimes he would catch a glimpse of her heading down to the creek to bathe, and he would have to fight his body's urges. She was a beautiful girl, and the past three years had put curves on her body that made him want to…if she were any other girl. But if she were another girl, he wouldn't have her here. "But yer my daughter, an' it wouldn't be right. I can't do that to ya, darlin', I can't force ya like you been forced. I can't look at ya without thinkin' o' ya lyin' under them Africans in the boxcar back at that damn railroad camp and cryin' 'cause they hurt ya like that."
"You don't want me because I was used by Africans? But Red Doe said that wouldn't matter to someone who loves me." Logan was going to have a talk with Red Doe, and soon.
"I didn't mean that…" Logan took a deep breath. "Jubilee, I love ya. I don't care who's been between yer legs. But I don't want ta use ya like that. I love ya like a daughter. I think o' ya sometimes as Alice. And I'd no more be able ta sleep with ya than if ya really was my flesh an' blood daughter. Ya shouldn't feel worthless; ya should feel treasured, 'cause I think too much o' ya than ta tell ya ta sleep with me."
She stopped, thinking about that. "I didn't think of that," she admitted. "All right. I'm sorry, Papa. It just…I want children some day, and I want them to be free, and the only way they'll be free is if their father is a freeman. But no freeman would want a slave; my only options are another slave, or one of the young men Red Doe wants me to marry. But I can't see me with one of them, Papa. I like living in a cabin, and having cloth clothes. I don't really want to live in a tipi and move wherever the buffalo go."
Logan's heart ached. Annie had told him the same thing; she wanted kids. Women seemed to want babies. It was a part of them, he guessed. He could give Annie what she wanted; he couldn't however, give Jubilee the two things she wanted; freedom and children. His voice was soft as he said, "What 'bout that Cajun? You seemed to get 'long with him well 'nuff."
Jubilee's eyes filled with tears, and Logan cursed himself again. What had he mentioned that man's name for? She had never spoken a word about him after he had left. She had seemed a little down, but Logan noticed that it had been about that time of month, and she usually got quiet around that time. "I liked him, Papa," she whispered finally, and his heart contracted. Oh God. Her tone of voice was soft, and tender, and he knew she'd more than 'liked' the Cajun, he'd been her first love. "That time he kissed me…I thought I was drowning, and I wanted him so much…but I was too young, and he had things he needed to do, and he wouldn't want a little slave girl anyway. He wanted to take me to Canada, free me, but I can't leave you, Papa, I love you, and I won't leave. I'll stay a slave forever, never have babies, nothing, if I can stay with you."
Logan scooped her up in his arms, hugging her tightly. "Stay with me, then," he said. "As long as ya want."
