It had been a few days since Alfred brought Ivan back to work on his farm. Even though the man was a slave, he was a hard worker. He had been shown what the others were doing, and joined right in with the work. It seemed to Alfred that the man knew how to pace himself.

The day after Alfred had bought Ivan, he realized he forgot to warn Amelia about him. Amelia strode right up to Ivan, demanding to know what a man like him was doing in her field and that trespassers would not be taken lightly. Even if Amelia was a woman, she had the ability to be very intimidating. Alfred knew that she could actually turn on him in a heartbeat. Some of the others had come to the rescue since Ivan was startled and couldn't speak English for a good long while after the confrontation.

Amelia had come to Alfred for confirmation that there was indeed a white slave. Amelia had gone back and apologized, bringing Ivan something to eat later that day.

Though that wasn't the only way that Alfred noticed the large man in the fields. On the first day, one of the others gave him a hat that was too small for his head. After a few more, they gave him a different hat, a new one that had just been woven. Alfred guessed it was a welcoming present.

However, no matter how hard he worked and kept the hat on, the man was starting to move slower and slower, and his skin was getting red. He would not be able to last much longer out in the heat… With Smith now riding the poor man for slowing down, he wondered how long it would take before his new slave gave out.

"I think I'll make him take care of the horses," Alfred said off-handedly to Amelia one evening.

"Who?" She asked, lazing about unlady like, sprawled on the couch and on Alfred's lap. She was looking up at him, but he was leaning back, looking towards the ceiling.

"Ivan. " He rolled his head down to look at her. "He's a hard worker, but he doesn't take too well to the sun or the heat."

Amelia appeared thoughtful for a few moments. "Is he good with animals?"

Alfred shrugged. "I don't know. The trader didn't say anything about it." He mulled it over. "We'll try it for a few days." He said. "He's a strong one, so he could take care of them if he's able."

Amelia rolled over, on her stomach. "We need more hands in the field."

"We also need someone to take care of the horses," He told her.

Amelia sighed. "Okay, whatever you think is best," She said, rolling back to her comfy spot on Alfred's lap, and dozing, ready to go to sleep after their dinner.

Alfred gently stroked her side, thinking about tomorrow.

A couple bottles of whiskey and a night of wonder was all Smith wanted. He wanted to get rid of that white slave, and all the others for that matter. All of them were just dirt, replaceable. It would cost a pretty penny, but they were replaceable. His new boss didn't act that way, oh no. To himself, he mocked Alfred Jones, the man who had a soft spot for everything, and tried to save it. "Even old damned me," Smith said. He at least had one thing of the perfect night: Booze. He was drinking it like the fire consumed old unwanted letters. "Stupid kid. He's got some sorta hero complex." He laughed low, and took another swig. "Somebody should just end his life now, 'stead a waiting for it to happen." He mumbled. Another drink. He continued his drinking throughout the night, passing out just before dawn.

Ivan was early to rise. These past few weeks were tiring. He stood out in the heat, and he believed it was getting hotter each and every day. He was trying to work hard, but his body was telling him to escape from the heat of the sun, and sit under a tree. Escape.

He was not going to fold so easily. He would work hard, free man or not.

He was out in the fields early that morning, his new straw hat perched on his head.

"Hey! Ivan!"

Ivan looked up from what he was doing. It was the master. He stood up to his full height, and looked down at the ground after a moment and then back up to the master nervously. How was he supposed to greet him back? What did the other slaves say? "Hello ," He said, tripping and stuttering a little in his speech.

He thought he saw a look of surprise and happiness cross the smaller man's face. He motioned for Ivan to follow. "Come, I want you to meet someone," He said. Ivan hesitated, and Alfred walked on forward. "Come on, Ivan. Follow me."

Ivan lumbered after him.

It was a little walk, but soon the two men were at the stable. It was shady and cool in there. Ivan felt instant relief from the warm sun.

"I want you to meet them." Alfred motioned Ivan to come over. "These are Tanya and Wally." Ivan looked to where Alfred was looking. There were two big, strong looking horses. Alfred reached out a hand and was petting the large animal's face. "These are the plow horses. They take care of the heavy lifting around here as well."

Ivan wasn't sure what Alfred was trying to do. Was he saying that Ivan was going to take the place of a horse? "Is that so?" Was all he could manage back.

Alfred nodded. "Yeah. Come over here." Ivan came closer. "Go ahead and pet him." Alfred took his hand off of Wally's head. Ivan reached over to try and touch the horse's head. The horse snorted, and Ivan retracted his hand quickly. Alfred didn't laugh. Ivan felt Alfred grab his hand. "Come on, he won't hurt you," He said. He held Ivan's hand in front of Wally for a moment, and pressed his hand into the stallion's head. Ivan hesitated before starting to rub the horse's head gently.

He felt a bit of excitement as the horse leaned into his touch. Ivan giggled as he rubbed the horse's head.

He didn't notice Alfred watching, or his approving look. "Do you think you can handle them?" He asked.

Ivan hesitated. "I do not know."

'At least he's honest,' Alfred thought to himself. "I'll get someone to show you how to take care of them. Then in a week you can tell me." He went to get one of the men who worked in the stable only part time.

Ivan rubbed at the horse's head gently, and spoke to it in his native tongue, "This seems to be a good place. Are the people actually this nice?" His question was met with a snort, and the horse moved away. That's when Ivan noticed two other horses. One appeared to be a young mare, probably Wally's and Tanya's offspring. The other was a leaner black and white horse. It had come towards the edge of the pen and was looking at Ivan… Curiously. Ivan inched over to the horse, and reached out a hand to it. The horse pulled its head away and trotted around its little pen, away from Ivan. He sighed.

"Ivan." The voice from behind startled him. He turned around to see Alfred with a tall black man built with a fair amount of muscle. "This is Bob. Part of his job is to help out around the stables."

The large man nodded his greeting. "It is good to get some fresh blood around here, and to finally meet it." He spoke slow and lazily.

Alfred stayed around a while longer to help Bob explain to Ivan how to take care of the horses.

"And make sure to take special care of this guy," Alfred said, walking over to the horse that had hurried away from Ivan. "This is Wildfire," The young man said, though Ivan saw his face turn red a bit as he added, "I named him when I was younger, so don't laugh."

Ivan did smile at that a bit, covering his mouth with his hand to hide the smile.

Alfred went on, "This is the riding horse for the farm. He's not as strong as the others, but he's really fast." Alfred went to the younger horse. "And this is our in-training plow horse, Jill. She'll be working by this harvest."

The young horse was more wary of Ivan, but she seemed to like Alfred and Bob well enough.

An hour or so into the training, one of the other slaves came into the stable, calling for Alfred. " , ! Smith is going off on Lazy Tom!"

Ivan looked over just in time to see Alfred rushing out of the stable, hand having the slave lead the way out towards the field.

"Bad news," Bob said under his breath.

Ivan blinked. "What is?" He asked.

Bob looked at Ivan in his same low, lazy way. "Smith ain't the nicest man, and Lazy Tom's old. He ain't gonna last long if doesn't get there quick."

Alfred arrived in the field. Smith was getting held back by many of the other slaves. Lazy Tom wasn't in sight.

"YOU DIRT MEN GET OFF O' ME!" A slurred voice rang out. Alfred could see his white arm flailing around, trying to break free.

Alfred didn't hesitate as he came over, and grabbed Smith's arm, and pulled him. "Everyone let go!" He called to the slaves.

They hesitated before slowly, one by one letting go. The last one still holding onto Smith got an elbow in his ribs.

"You pieces of shit!" Smith yelled, trying to yank his arm away from Alfred's grasp.

Alfred's grip grew tighter as he pulled Smith away from the black men scooting back from him. " ," Alfred started, "Are you drunk?"

"LIKE HELL I AM!" He shouted at Alfred.

Alfred didn't like his attitude. He never did when he was like this. He smiled at the drunk man. "You aren't doing well to make me believe you." He said, and the drunk man tried to slug Alfred in the face. Al grabbed the fist as it went past his face, took it, and punched Smith in the head with his own hand.

Smith cried out. He tried to totter backwards, but Alfred's grip on his arms didn't let him. Smith glared at Alfred, blood coming down his face from a bashed in nose. "Ba—"

"Boss," Alfred quickly corrected him before he could finish saying it. He was smiling at him. "Why don't you take off back to your quarters and sober up. We'll talk about this later. Do you need some help back?"

Smith's mouth opened and closed like a fish.

"No? Then go home." Alfred finally let go of the man. He looked as though he was ready to start another brawl, but tottered off instead, back to his quarters. After watching him walk off, Alfred called, "Where's Lazy Tom?"

"O'er here, ."

The voice made Alfred visibly relax. It was Lazy Tom's voice. He popped up from where he was laying behind a mound of dirt. "Sorry . Guess he no like my butt bein' up in the air so high as I work. These ol' legs don't bend the way they used to!" The man gave Alfred a toothy grin.

Lazy Tom was an older man, and had been working on the farm longer than Alfred. The reason he was called Lazy Tom wasn't his work ethic, which was enjoy your work any way you can, but because of the fact his eyes weren't looking the same direction.

"You're okay then old man?" Alfred asked.

Lazy Tom got up. "Ah yep—Oh! Back popped." He wiggled his legs, as if they had fallen asleep. "Thanks for coming 'ere, . Any longer I'd have come back out, and walloped that there Smith in the head with a stick." He laughed, but Alfred gave him a level look, trying hard not to break into the smile he was feeling.

"Tell me what happened," He said to another slave, knowing Lazy Tom would embellish.

Alfred came to David Smith's quarters a few hours later. The drunk was asleep, and Alfred woke him up. "Hey, it's time to talk." He said.

Smith glared at Alfred, feeling a headache coming on. "What d' you want?" He growled.

Alfred pulled up a chair. "You attacked Lazy Tom."

"Disciplined." Smith corrected.

"Attacked," Alfred re-corrected him. "You came onto the job drunk, and attacked one of my workers."

Smith grumbled and rolled his eyes. He was going to get lectured by this pansy. He felt his nose, crusted with blood and still askew. "I don't see what's the big deal. He's old, and he's not that useful. Need to get a better worker. Better than some white man who can't even take this heat." He sneered.

Alfred was not happy with Smith. Alfred rested his chin on his hand. "I can fire you right now. You'd have to leave these quarters and I'd get a couple of the big guys to toss you out." He was smiling, and sounded overly excited and happy.

Smith scowled, then smirked. "But then there'd be no-one to run this." He pointed out.

"I can manage." Alfred replied.

Smith snorted. "You're too soft, mister Jones," He threw in some venom and sarcasm at the end. "They don't respect you like they do me."

"I'm not the one that got a pile of slaves on him, am I?"

Smith was quiet, and scowling. He hated Alfred. He hated this weak pansy that got everything Smith wanted. Property, slaves, and a needy wife. Yes, he knew. Everyone knew.

Alfred got up. "I'm letting you off with a warning this time. Don't do it again." Alfred left Smith's quarters.

Smith stared up at the ceiling, and had the rage and anger start to stir in him. "Die, Alfred Jones," He growled under his breath, willing it to happen, and asking god, or the devil, to do it for him.

He did not care which.

This chapter is actually going away from how the RP had worked out. Smith wasn't really in the RP except to mess with Alfred and Ivan. Lazy Tom came in later as a throw-in character just because I wanted a silly old man.

I am trying to avoid the N-word-the older one- even though it's part of the time period. :/ So instead, dirt people. I think it gives about the same idea about how much Smith really thinks about the slaves under Alfred-or any slaves for that matter.

Anyway.

Sit back, relax, and enjoy.