Author's note: I have been blindly posting chapters and been a little mystified by the reviews I was getting. Last night I realized why. Due to a computer glitch, I lost the rewritten, cleaned-up, toned down version of this story. The version you are reading now is the original draft, not the rewritten version which was meant to be posted on This was originally written for another site that offers grittier fare for a more mature audience. I will continue to post the original version since some people are still reading it…but after it's all done I'm going to go back, remove all the chapters posted before the glitch and then repost it with the rewritten content. My sincerest apologies to anyone who might have been offended by any of the content here, and my apologies to the site managers. If you have any comments, complaints, criticisms, etc, please feel free to email me at Thank you, and again, my apologies!—Jae

Chapter 37:

"You ready?"

The door to Jubilee's room popped open, and Jubilee stepped out, dressed in the trousers and shirt Remy had found for her. "I'm ready," she said, looking down at her legs. "Wow, it feels really different wearing men's trousers than a dress. More like the Indian clothing I wore at home…I mean, back in Missouri," she amended. "I wish I could wear pants all the time."

Remy was having a little trouble breathing. "Remy glad you don' wear dat all de time," he managed finally.

"Why?" she cocked her head curiously.

For answer Remy took her shoulders firmly, steered her back into her room, and kicked the door closed behind him as he planted his lips firmly against hers. "Dem pants show off your legs," he said huskily into her ear. "Remy love dose legs. De pants make you look very desirable." And he proceeded to show her how much he loved her legs, and how desirable he found her.

Much later, Jubilee lay on the bed, snuggled against his side. Her fingers traced the long white line across his broad chest. A tear filled her eye as she said softly, "This one looks nasty."

He looked down at the line. "Oui. It look better now den it look when Remy firs' get it, t'ough."

"What happened?"

His voice was soft. "Remy maman did somet'ing to piss de Master off. He tie her down, grab de whip, beat her. She pass out, he still beatin' on her. I t'row myself on top of her to make him stop, so I get beaten too. Master strip me an' whip me right beside her. When I wake up finally, he say he like de way I move, de way I look, an' he had me branded as a bed slave while I was passed out." He swallowed. "Maman died."

"I'm sorry," she said gently.

"Me too. It done an' over wit', chere. Don' worry 'bout it." His hands carefully traced the branded S on the soft skin just under her navel. "Dis hurt when it go on, didn' it? Remy was unconscious when his got done."

"Yes." Jubilee shuddered. "Oh, God, it hurt. I didn't know what the Railmaster was going to do. When he picked me up from the indentured servants' camp, He just told me to go back with the slaves. They didn't touch me then; they didn't know if I was going to become his servant or if I was going to become a slave. When the train stopped at Jonesboro, he got me off and took me to the smith's shop. He had the iron already. He gave it to the smith and told the man to brand, collar, and chain me." Her eyes were glazed with remembered pain. "I screamed. I didn't want to be a slave, I'd been born free. I turned and tried to run away. He caught me easily and pushed me back into the smith's shop, and told the man to collar and shackle me first, because that would make it easier to restrain me while I was branded. So the smith grabbed a band of iron, hinged in the middle, and snapped it around my neck, and then followed it with the shackles on my arms. As soon as I heard the lock click on my ankle shackle, I knew my life was over.

"The smith had the brand heating up while he was fitting me with the shackles, and the Railmaster tethered my chains to the ring in the wall that horses were usually tied to. They stripped me nude, and the Railmaster grabbed my hips from behind and held me still while the smith pressed the brand against my skin. I screamed, I struggled, I fought, but they didn't let me go until it was done. The smith smeared some kind of smelly animal salve on it, and the Railmaster threw me a shirt like the ones the male slaves wore. It was long enough to cover me all the way to my knees, thank God. Then he dragged me out and took me to the pump, explained that I should carry water to the men when they wanted it, and that was my job.

"That night I understood what being a slave meant. He dragged me into the slaves' boxcar after the evening meal, locked my chain to a bolt in the floor of the boxcar, and took my shirt off. I sat there naked while he looked me over, and then he told the other slaves, 'Don't scar her.' And then he closed the door. The descended on me, and the pain was horrible. I'd never been touched like that before." She swallowed. "Some of the slaves were like Andrew. They'd been beaten down so many times they wanted to feel a sense of control over someone of lower rank, someone more helpless, and they picked me. They'd hit me after they were done with my body, slapping me and punching me. The Railmaster saw me leave the boxcar every morning with bruises on my body, cuts and scrapes all over, but he never said a word. He'd tell me to stand still, and he'd look me over, open my mouth or feel inside my body, but after that, he'd throw my shirt at me and tell me to get to work."

Remy hugged her to him as her words trailed off into soft sobs of remembered anguish. "It all over now, chere," he said gently. "Don' t'ink 'bout it no more. All dat behind you. You wit' me now, you safe, an' nobody goin' to hurt you now wit'out goin' t'rough me first."

Jubilee looked up at him. "You mean it? Did Scott mean what he said when he told me to tell you or him when Andrew tries to hit me again?"

Remy nodded emphatically. "We mean it," he said. "John told Scott dat Andrew do de same t'ing wit' de female hands too, an' Scott wasn't so happy wit' dat news. I t'ink he downstairs now talking to Charles about firing him. Dat's why he told me to fin' pants and shirt for you to wear while working. I t'ink, since you so good wit' de horses, he want to get rid of Andrew an' have you take over all de stables."

Jubilee shot upright in bed. "That's too much! My God, Remy, that's a lot of work! And won't the other hands have a problem with someone so young telling them what to do?"

"John tol' Scott most of dem not goin' to object," Remy told her. "Dey don' like Andrew anyway."

Jubilee looked anguished. "I wish Papa were here. He could work for Charles, take over with the mares and yearlings, and I could work with the stallions and geldings."

Remy sighed. "He anot'er whole world away, Jubilee," he said quietly. "He not here."

There was a gentle tap on the door, and they heard Charles say, "Jubilee? Are you in there?"

"I'm in here," Jubilee called out, scrambling out of bed and grabbing for the discarded pants and shirt. "Please, just a moment, I'm not fit to be seen." Remy too scrambled into his clothes, and Jubilee waited until he too was decently covered before she opened her room door.

Charles stood outside with a sheaf of papers in his hand. If he was surprised to see Remy pulling on his shirt while standing next to a rumpled bed, he didn't say anything. Instead he extended the papers to Jubilee. "Here you are, my dear," he said, smiling at her. She took them, puzzled at the smile, and began to read. Halfway down the page she paused, her eyes flying up to Charles' face, and his smile grew broader as he nodded. She squealed, putting the papers down carefully on the bed before flinging herself at him and enveloping him in a huge bear hug. Then she flew around the bed and did the same to Remy, the sole difference being, when she released him from the hug she planted an enthusiastic, passionate kiss on his lips with all the love in her being. "I'm free," she finally breathed when she broke off the kiss. 'I'm free! Finally, finally free!" and she threw back her head an laughed aloud in sheer happiness.

Remy glided out of the room, returning a short time later with something in his hand. "Since you a free woman now," he said, 'I have a question for you. Jubilee," and he went down on one knee in front of her, 'Will you marry me?" He opened his hand, and on it lay a small gold circle.

Jubilee reached out with trembling hands, touching the gold circlet gently. "My God, Remy!" She exclaimed when she realized it was real gold. "I've never had anything so expensive!"

Remy bit his lip. Here he was, offering to marry her, and all she could see was the ring. "Please, chere?" he whispered. His heart pounded in his chest; what if she said no? He'd die if she said no.

Jubilee tore her eyes from the thing circle of gold, and saw his upturned face. There was such a mixture of emotions in his eyes; fear that she would say no, panic that maybe it was too soon to ask, worry that maybe she didn't love him as much as he thought she did, and above all, hope that she would say yes.

Jubilee put the ring down on the bed on top of the papers and drew his face up to hers for another long, passionate kiss, answering that hope, that love, with the only answer she could possibly give him. "Yes," she finally whispered into his lips. "Yes, I'll marry you."

Remy whooped as he swept her up in his arms.

The news was met with similar happiness by the others in the orchard when Remy and Jubilee finally went down for the annual apple picking. "Congratulations!" Jean screeched effusively, and Ororo displayed her approval much more quietly but with no less enthusiasm by pouring out glasses of apple wine and handing them around. Everyone toasted the couple with raised glasses, and then the apple picking began in earnest.

Jean and Ororo, wearing their dresses, were obliged to remain earthbound; Scott and Henry climbed the gnarled trunks of the old apple trees and picked, tossing the apples down to the women waiting below. Jubilee, unhampered by skirts since she was still wearing pants, scaled the trees, laughing excitedly, and picked apples, tossing them down to Remy.

"Hey, no fair!" Bobby yelled indignantly from the next tree over, watching as Jubilee's slight weight allowed her to go out on limbs the others wouldn't dare go out on. "You can go farther than the rest of us can!" Ororo had promised a whole apple pie to the team who brought in the most apples, and there were heaps of empty bushel baskets under each tree. The other field hands were picking just as excitedly.

Jubilee stopped, way out on a limb that was bending dangerously low out over the ground, and stuck her tongue out at him. Remy laughed aloud at their childish antics, and forgot to hold the end of the branch Jubilee had asked him to pull on so she could shimmy far out on it. The branch sprang back, and Jubilee shouted with surprise as she slid backward down off the limb, hit the crotch of the tree with a bump, then fell out of it. Remy, alarmed, went running to her, but she was sitting up and laughing by the time he reached her. "Nothing wounded but my tailbone," she said, laughing. Then she looked down at her foot, Her shoe, worn from traveling (she didn't wear the new ones while working) had finally broken, and the sole had just separated from the upper. "Oh, bother!" she grouched as she surveyed the shoe.

Remy was laughing so hard he had to sit down. "Jubilee," he said finally, gasping and holding his sides, "If you go up to my room I have de old travel pack dere wit' some of your t'ings. Your moccasins are in dere; I t'ink you want dem."

"My moccasins!" Jubilee bounced upright. "They'll be better for climbing trees than these old shoes. I'll be right back!"

Remy's room was cool after the warmth of the sunny afternoon outside. Jubilee walked in and stood for a moment. She'd never been in here before. No wonder he asked her to marry him! He needed her. Clothes were strewn all over the room, all over the bed, chairs, tables, and drifted in piles on the floor. Just like Papa. She'd had to keep the cabin neat for Papa too. She dug the old, worn travel pack out from under the bed, found her moccasins in it, and slipped them on. She fingered the strand of glass beads, the lovingly carved wolf head hanging from the string, and felt her eyes sting with tears. Putting the pack back under the bed, she turned and tripped over a shoe lying discarded on the floor. As she grabbed the dresser to keep her balance, a small paper-wrapped package tumbled from the dresser top and fell to the floor.

She reached down to pick it up, and the tattered, worn paper wrapping fell apart under the twine. She stared at the small carved horse in her hand, and her happiness vanished, to be replaced by tears. It was Thunder, her beloved horse, and the carving was so well done she knew it was Papa's work. She reached for the paper to wrap the little wooden horse in, assuming he'd given it to Remy for taking her away.

Then she saw the writing on the paper. "To my darling Jubilee, from your Papa…" and here the words disappeared in the creases on the paper. "…I love you. Logan."

She stared at the paper. Her father loved her. He loved her! But…all the things he'd said, the way he tossed her out…He must have thought it was the only way for her to get her freedom.

She sat down hard on the floor, tears running unchecked down her face, and hugged the delicate wooden horse. Its carved flying mane dug into her cheek, but she ignored it as she sobbed out, in anguish. "Oh, Papa, Papa, you did love me, why didn't you tell me, Oh, Papa, I love you, I miss you so much!" A wave of homesickness washed over her, and she began to cry miserably.

Some time later a hand touched her shoulder gently. She lifted her streaming eyes, and saw Remy looking down at her, his eyes full of sadness and sorrow. Too miserable to speak, she flung herself into his arms and sobbed. "Papa loved me, he loved me all the time, he really did, but I don't know why he couldn't tell me, why did he have to hurt me like that?"

Remy sat on the floor beside her, ignoring the piles of scattered clothing, and hugged her. "He wanted you to be free," he said softly, feeling his throat close in anguish for her mental pain, and in fear. He hadn't meant for her to see the little horse yet. He had planned on waiting until her attachment to the place was firm enough that she wouldn't want to leave. Would she want to leave him now that she knew? "You couldn' be free living wit' him. He knew dat, after he foun' out about de soldiers. I tol' him." She stared up at him, but Remy avoided her shocked look. He might as well get it all out now. "It was an accident. It slipped out after we brought you home from de place dat Walbrook raped and tortured you. I didn' know he didn' know."

He looked at her pleadingly. "Don' be mad at him, chere. He knew dat if you stayed dere longer, sooner or later somet'ing goin' to happen dat you couldn' recover from or he couldn' protect you from, and he couldn' stan' to see you hurt like dat. He said he rat'er hurt you by driving you away den see you die slowly because too many people using your body against your will. Dat why he send you wit' me. He tol' me to treat you right, marry you, give you dem babies you want, an' make you happy. He said he'd rather know you happy and free den wit' him and still a slave. And he afraid if he just tell you to go, when you get back someone goin' to see dat brand and chain you up and make you a slave again, dat's why he broke your heart when you leave so you wouldn' want to return."

"He loved me enough to send me away, knowing he'd probably never see me again," Jubilee whispered, shocked at the thought of how much those last words had been for him. Yes, they'd been hard on her too, but it must have been so much harder on him. "Remy, I have to go back."

"Chere," Remy started, weakly, but she placed a gentle finger against his lips.

"Listen. I have to go back. I love him. Remy, he saved my life. I can't leave him alone. Long ago, you said they have ways of wiping out the brand so nobody can make me a slave again. How is that done?"

"Non," chere," Remy insisted. "Not for you. De way we do it is to put a piece of hot metal against de skin and rip de first layer of skin off, an' take de brand wit' it. Remy have dat done to him. It hurt like hell. Not going to do dat to you."

"I'm a free woman, Remy. I have a choice. Don't I?" his silence was answer enough. "I'm going to talk to Henry." She got up and started for the door, then paused, turned, ran to him quickly, and kissed him quickly, bruising his lips, and then turned and ran out the door. Remy stared at the empty doorway, at the tattered pieces of paper in his hand, then crumpled them angrily in his hand, threw it across the room, and flung himself down on his bed, burying his face in the pillow so no one would hear him cry.