***I want to put a disclaimer on here and mention there are some graphic undertones in this chapter. It's important to note that the graphic nature will not set the tone for the rest of the story.***
This is a chapter that completely took me by surprise when I wrote it, and if I'm being honest, it pushed me out of my comfort zone.
When Time Stands Still
Chapter 8
The storm that had been brewing over the western horizon had passed with little more than a sprinkling of rain, and the sun was now streaming through the clouds as Lou steered her horse onto the narrow dirt road that led her to Eliza Townsend's home.
She had politely declined the first two invitations from the persistent young woman, giving little excuses for her not being able to attend, figuring they wouldn't have much in common given the woman's cultivated appearance and boisterous personality.
But at Thomas's strong urging to seek female companionship — someone who could give her a womanly perspective on the expectant state, childbirth, and motherhood, she decided to accept Eliza's invitation after all.
She was surprised at how much Thomas had been able to help her the past few weeks, giving her advice on how to naturally tame her nausea, working through some of her fears just by being there to listen, even letting her know when she should expect to feel the baby's movements, which by his calculations, should be in another couple of weeks.
Lou had found comfort in their nightly talks, something she would never have expected in a million years. She quickly learned Thomas was a good man — smart, compassionate, kind, but most of all patient — just as she imagined every doctor should be.
Just as she needed him to be.
She trusted him.
And as much as Lou hated to admit it, his lighthearted humor was exactly what she needed to drown out the heaviness this war had brought on and just enough, she suspected, to ward off some of the loneliness that crept in every night with Kid being gone.
Loneliness.
She took in a deep breath, inhaling the aroma of damp grass and earthy hay. The dewy fog hung heavy over the countryside, making everything appear hazy like a dream.
The short cobblestone wall on the right side of the road guided her horse along until reaching a small wooden bridge, where the sound of a rippling brook flowed steadily below.
As they crossed over to the other side, the fog lifted, and Lou's eyes widened at the sight of the most beautiful patch of yellow and purple wildflowers she'd ever seen.
In all her years, her eyes hadn't seen scenery so full of life, and it was at that moment when she realized Kid was right, the land in Virginia was truly breathtaking.
"Oh, look at these beautiful pastures, Blaze!" She exclaimed, patting the buckskin horse's neck as they trotted along.
Knowing before they left Rock Creek what the living conditions would be like living in a war-torn state, it didn't take much discussion before Kid and Lou had settled on keeping their trusted mares back home.
After parting ways with Teaspoon and Buck in St. Joseph, Missouri, they stayed two whole days visiting with Jeremiah and Theresa until they boarded the train that headed East.
They made it as far as Indiana before deciding to purchase horses for the second half of their journey, and it was a good thing they did. Once they crossed the Ohio River and into Kentucky, quality livestock, particularly horses, were increasingly hard to come by, making the demand and price climb considerably.
"I'd love nothing more than to ride you like the wind out here, see what you're made of!" She told the horse as her fingers tightened their grip on the reins, heels ready to dig in and give the command to ride hard and fast.
Lou resisted all temptation when she looked down, her hand falling to rest just below her navel, "But it looks like it's probably gonna have to wait until next spring, boy."
She knew it was only temporary, but came to the realization that riding hard was just one of many more sacrifices that would eventually accompany motherhood.
Sacrifices.
When Lou looked up, the first thing she saw was a swing moving slowly in the breeze. It hung off of the lowest branch of a sweeping oak tree in a front yard. The tree was like something she had read from Grimm's fairy tales — its limbs extending twenty or more feet from the trunk, arms of Spanish moss swaying in the breeze, fingers of ivy trailing up and across its limbs.
The shade underneath was thick and dark, and she imagined it to be a refreshing resting spot on a hot day like today.
It was the kind of tree she, Jeremiah, and Theresa would have loved to have had in their backyard growing up — a fun backdrop to their adventures, even if most of their adventures came from their own minds — a short escape from their grim reality that came with having John Boggs as their father.
Life with him was a delicate dance on eggshells, and even at a young age, Lou always knew he saw her as the weak child she'd been — always disappointed that the Lord had seen fit to give him a daughter for a firstborn child rather than a son to help with the family business.
It's funny how the sight of a simple swing could conjure up those memories she had tried so hard to forget.
Lou found herself lost in her own thoughts until the hollowed tones of what sounded like troubled souls wafted through the air, bringing her out of her reverie — the low timbre of spiritual singing in the nearby tobacco fields that made the hair on her arms stand on end.
Her eyes wandered off to the left side of the road, observing the straight rows of crops that were still wet from the early morning rain, finding it hard to avert her gaze as she watched the dark figures work at harvesting the tobacco leaves.
Steal away, Steal away, Steal away to Jesus!
Movement along the edge of a nearby ditch caused Lou to turn her head, her eyes focusing on a young negro girl standing with a woven basket poised on one shoulder, a tiny baby secured tightly across her bosom.
I ain't got long to stay here!
Her clothing was threadbare, the calico fabric resembling nothing more than a mere potato sack, tattered and weather-worn against her skin. The Virginia sun wasn't beating down as hot as it usually does this time of day, but Lou could still see the beads of sweat trickle out from under the girl's tignon, cutting through the dirt on her face, staining her shirt with its saltiness.
My Lord calls me!
The newborn's wail evoked the young mother's attention, and Lou watched as the girl placed the basket that was full of tobacco leaves onto the ground next to her. Kneeling down as she released him from the confines of the sling, she lifted up her shirt to offer her breast to the child.
She could see the girl was agitated, nervous even, as she tried to hush the babe, looking around the field almost as though their lives depended on it.
He calls me by the thunder!
Lou's horse halted at her silent command, the scene playing out before her eyes tugged at her heart, finding it incomprehensible how the simple act of nursing a child could be so beautiful and so heart wrenching at the same time — how the miracle of life, wrapped up in a tiny bundle, could be intertwined in such harrowing destiny that preceded him centuries ago.
The trumpet sound it in my soul!
The dark-skinned girl could sense Lou's presence, turning her head slightly until the two locked eyes — eyes which Lou thought were so desolate and gaunt, making her suspect they bore the scars of her troubled soul.
I ain't got long to stay here!
The singing abruptly stopped, and a gravelly voice from a beastly man resonated throughout the entire field.
"Quiet that bastard over there!"
The crack of a whip sounded, the young woman instinctively cowered. Her body hunched over as she sat down onto her knees, her arms protectively wrapped around the infant in an attempt to stifle the child — but the child's cries persisted, intensifying with all of her efforts.
Lou could only watch as she sat upon her horse — an innocent bystander hidden beneath the shade of some overgrown trees. The husky man drew nearer, walking between the rows of crops — white knuckles clenching a cane in one hand as he pulled his britches up to cover his rounded girth with the other.
"Well, looky over here, everyone! If it ain't my favorite darkie, Miriam!" The man spoke into the air like he enjoyed hearing the sound of his voice.
"I should have known it was your bastard child makin' all that noise — probably cryin' cause you're his mama!" The man chortled at his own words.
He looked down at the girl and leaned over to spit the tobacco out of his mouth, the juice splattering her face after the wad hit the ground.
"Get up!" He demanded, giving the side of her hip a swift kick with his boot, knocking her over with his strength.
"Damn it! You ain't listenin' to me, girl! I said, get up!" The man grew agitated, his voice raised to ensure everyone in the field could hear him — the ivory handle of his cane, which resembled the head of a cobra, repeatedly poked at the back of her skull.
Lou watched helplessly from the dirt road as two other men joined the scene, each grabbing an arm of the girl, squeezing with their might, making her stand at attention. She could see the baby's arms flail about as he rested upon the bed of tobacco leaves within the basket.
The larger man walked a complete circle around her, making his disdain known, stopping when he came face to face with her.
"Oh, Mimi."
"Mimi, Mimi, Mimi."
"You like it when I call you that? Don't ya?" The pungent stench of his tobacco-laden breath was hot on her skin, making her turn her face away. Her desolate eyes now focusing on the ground below her bare feet, the baby's cries now inconsolable.
The man's cane threatened to bite again as it teased the skin around her neck, lifting her chin high enough so that her tear-stained eyes could meet his.
"You sure did like being called 'Mimi' that night I came into your room, 'bout a year ago, remember?" The girl squirmed against the two men as she felt the fangs of the cobra tugging at the neckline of her shirt.
"That's right. I made a woman out of you that night." The larger man peered down at her breasts and a corner of his mouth lifted, his eyes turning to give the other two men silent permission.
Grabbing fistfuls of cloth, the two men tore through the weak threads, ripping the girl's shirt wide open, exposing her chest for all to see.
"My, my, my. You're all grown up now."
Lou's ears felt like they were bleeding at the sound of the man's words, 'All grown up.' Her breath hitched in the back of her throat, and suddenly, she found her thirteen-year-old self void of air, her mind taking her back to that spot beside the dresser in the back room of Wicks' brothel. Her hands began to shake when she heard the man continue in his gravelly voice.
"That's right, Mimi. You liked that night so much, you even begged me for a little souvenir, remember?" The other two men laughed heartily as the hefty man walked over to the child, the tip of the man's cane coming to rest on the baby's head, swirling around his kinky curls.
"I think he's got my eyes, what'd ya think?" He asked, winking as he watched in satisfaction when the woman's lips began to quiver in fear.
"Whatcha gonna do with her, Malloy?" One of the men could be heard saying, a wide smile plastered on his face, revealing the strings of tobacco pulp on his teeth.
Malloy inched closer to the girl, gliding the cane across her chest, tracing the branded letter 'T' above her left breast over and over, making her wince as though her skin were on fire.
"Scraggs?" Malloy asked.
"Yeah, Vernon?"
"Is my iron hot and ready to go? Looks like my boy's gonna need a mark to match his mama's."
The girl squirmed within their grasp, fighting with all her might to pull away, but her efforts just made them dig their dirty nails tighter into her skin.
"Oooh, doggie! The feisty ones sure do butter my biscuits!" The second man exclaimed, licking the dry skin on his lips, fingers inching towards her breast.
Malloy smacked the man's knuckles with his cane, uttering a stern voice, "Hands to yourself, Burris. Don't you know how to act in the presence of a lady?"
"Lady? What lady? I don't see no lady!" Scraggs quipped. The cackles from the three men echoed across the field.
Malloy's head raised, his eyes scanning the other negros working the crops, "Boy, they sure look like little candied raisins bakin' out here in the sun, don't they?"
His voice lifted so everyone in the field could hear, "Listen to me and listen to me well, everyone! My friend Miriam here promised to do two rows by noon today, and as you can see, she is nowhere near being finished, no thanks to her babe."
Malloy paused, pulling out his brass pocket watch that hung from a chain off his vest.
"As y'all know... time is money! And for costin' me time, little Mimi here...well she's gonna have to pay the price, and y'all are gonna watch!"
Malloy winked at the girl then turned his gaze to one of the men, "Take the child away."
Lou's jaw tightened and her teeth clenched together as she heard the girl's pleas, and somewhere in the midst of all their conversation, her gun had made its way into her hand.
The chamber was loaded and the callous on her right thumb seemed to remember it's position as she cocked the hammer back, her index finger holding steady on the trigger.
Lou had met Malloy's type before, "takers,' as Emma had once put it — men who would put all morals and ethics aside to get what they want — men who would never accept 'no' for an answer.
Every fiber of her being told her to intervene — to fight tooth and nail for this poor negro girl she hadn't had the pleasure of meeting — to defend her from the likes of this despicable human being that was Malloy.
Lou held the gun down at her side, concealed from view as she sat upon her horse and contemplated her next move. A year ago, she would've had no hesitation taking on three men at once — would have welcomed it. She would have done what needed doing no questions asked, put herself in harm's way without batting an eye or thinking twice — act first, think about the consequences later.
But this time was different.
Right or wrong, slavery was a business, and deep in the heart of Dixie, she knew she didn't have a leg to stand on where interfering was concerned.
Not only would she be putting the girl and her infant in further danger, she'd be risking the life of her own unborn child. And with Kid off at war, not knowing if he was dead or alive, this child was the tie that bound them together. It was the only thing she had left of him and it was something she wouldn't gamble with.
"What the hell do I do now?" She muttered under her breath, her horse the only witness to her words.
Blaze hadn't given her a moment's peace to think when he had answered her question for her, nickering loud enough to make the three men turn to look for her through the thick of trees.
"Who's there!?" Malloy shouted, his voice gruff and his tone sharp.
Feeling their eyes gaze upon her, she was forced to think quickly on her feet, doing the first thing that came to mind and regretting it almost immediately as the words rolled off of her tongue.
"Oh, heaven's to mercy! Goodness gracious me, I hope I'm not intruding!" Lou exclaimed, feeling the bile creep up the back of her throat as she feigned her best southern accent.
Hearing the tremor in her own voice, she forced herself to sit taller in the saddle, knowing if there was ever a time she needed to put on a performance it was now.
Lou edged the horse into the clearing, feeling vulnerable as she felt their ravenous eyes feast upon her — watching them as they all exchanged perverse glances between each other.
Malloy raised the ivory head of the cane to the brim of his hat, lifting it slightly off of his brow, struggling to see through the midday sun.
"No intrusion at all, ma'am! We're just out here takin' care of a little business." He exclaimed, his large hand grabbing ahold of the girl's arm as she thrashed about.
"This one here's been a little outta sorts lately. Gotta keep 'em darkies in line from time to time, show 'em who's boss!"
Lou shuddered as Malloy continued.
"There somethin' we can help you with, ma'am?"
"Lil' ol' me seems to have lost my way! Y'all look like such fine, upstanding citizens, would you happen to know where I might be able to find the Townsend property?" Lou exclaimed, her voice sounding almost as sweet as honey.
"Townsend property?" Malloy gruffed, taking off his hat and wiping the sweat from his forehead with a handkerchief, the sun reflecting off his head.
"Well, ma'am, you're sittin' on Townsend soil right now. This here's the bulk of the plantation. The house is up yonder, over on that hill just beyond those trees." The large man said, waving his hand in the air, indicating a spot off in the distance.
His words fell on deaf ears, and the blood drained from Lou's face at the sudden realization of what the branded 'T' stood for on the woman's chest.
Townsend.
She should have known.
Eliza had always been so warm and cordial in the brief encounters they've had. She talked with a certain air about her — charming, and genuine, or so Lou thought.
Lou scoffed inwardly, hoping she hadn't made an error in judgment. Being friends with someone who owned servants was one thing, but being friends with someone whose family business is based on cruelty and barbarity was something she wasn't willing to be a part of.
Her horse held steady as she contemplated her next move, but was startled by the sound of Scraggs clearing his throat and spewing his brown phlegm into the direction of the slave's bare feet.
"Damn, I missed!" Scraggs belted out as the other two men joined in his mirth.
Lou felt the vomit rise in the back of her throat, having no other choice at the moment but to swallow it.
She watched as the girl stood with a forlorn expression on her face. Her chest was bare and open, exposing her dark skin to the southern breeze, and Lou found it oddly strange that her own breasts were sensitive to the mere thought.
She didn't have a plan and knew her attempts of casual distraction were only prolonging the inevitable torture for the girl. The longer she sat there, the more Lou felt the three men's eyes start to feast upon her.
She had to think fast.
Against her better judgment, she swung her leg around the horn of her saddle to dismount, careful not to snag the material of the skirt in the process. She stood behind her horse and out of view, discreetly concealing her weapon into the deep pocket of her skirt.
Malloy scratched his chin in confusion as he watched the petite woman walk down the ditch toward them, "Uh, ma'am, is there somethin' else we can do for ya?"
Lou walked with confidence up to Miriam and looked into the depths of the girl's eyes, giving her a silent apology for what she was about to do, praying that someday they'll all live to tell the tale.
"Looks like you have a mighty fine specimen here, Mr?..."
"Uh, Malloy. Vernon Malloy."
"As I was saying, Mr. Malloy, she's mighty fine indeed!" Lou exclaimed, her words sounding foreign to her ears as they left her mouth. "Ya mind if I have a look?"
The large man exchanged glances with Burris and Scraggs. Curious and amused, he gestured with his arm while backing up to give her space, "By all means...be my guest."
Lou stood inches from the girl's face, her back momentarily and reluctantly turned against the three men, each one reminding her of a hungry coyote overtly standing behind their prey, waiting for the right moment to attack.
She held the girl's cheeks between her two hands, careful not to let the men see her wiping the lone tear with her thumb. She knew she couldn't afford to say more than a few words, but managed to mouth a heartfelt I'm gonna help to the girl.
Lou repositioned the girl's face, tilting her chin upward as she pried the girl's mouth open. She took a special interest in examining her teeth, mimicking the way she'd seen it done one time at a public slave auction while on a run in Kansas. She ran her hands down the sides of Miriam's arms, the girl's skin feeling like cracked leather under her touch.
A fleeting thought of a plan came to her, instantly knowing it was the point of no return when the words left her lips.
"Mr. Malloy, how much would you take for this girl and her child?" She asked, summoning the large man to come closer, immediately regretting it when the direction of the wind changed, blowing the man's acrid body odor into her face.
"Ma'am?"
Lou stood there a moment longer than she wanted, closing her eyes and exhaling a slow breath through her mouth, hoping not to empty her stomach's contents onto the dirt below.
"Somethin' wrong?" Malloy asked.
She held up her hand stopping him from coming closer, fanning herself fervently trying to seek fresh air.
"Vernon? What's wrong with her? She got a case of them vapors or somethin'?" Lou could hear Scraggs say.
Moments later she found her bearings, turning to place herself between the slave and the three men. She rested her hand on her chest, hoping to keep her composure.
"I hope you'll forgive me, gentlemen! I do declare! I seemed to have left home this morning without my parasol, and I just can't seem to get acclimated to this Virginia climate."
"Ma'am, your accent rings a bit peculiar in my ears and I can't seem to quite place it. Where exactly are you from Ms..?"
"It's Mrs. Mc...," She paused, realizing she nearly revealed her real name. "McKay. Charlotte McKay. Just moved here from Kentucky with my husband Travis...and my sister, Rachel." Lou lied but continued to press on.
"In fact, my sister is the reason that brings me to the Townsend residence."
"Oh? How so?" Malloy questioned.
"My sister's expectin' any day now, and we're in need of what you might call a…" Lou lowered her voice, leaning in to whisper, "...a wet nurse."
"A wet nurse!?" The man exclaimed out loud, confusion written on his face as he shared glances between the other two men.
"Why, yes! We all know how uncivilized the act of nursin' a child is, and women of our stature can't be burdened by a chore such as that. Since our arrival in town, I've heard from many reputable sources that the Townsends have, what you might call, Mr. Malloy, an exemplary stock when it comes to the negros. By the looks of this young girl right here, I'd be inclined to say they were right."
The man smiled, sticking his chest out to boast, "I can't say I won't deny your good taste in our quality dark meat, ma'am. It's just..." He stopped talking when his laughter began to steal the conversation. Lou watched his girth jolt uncontrollably with his hysterics.
"Something seem funny to you, Mr. Malloy?" Lou asked, her hands poised sternly on her hips.
His laughter continued, only settling down long enough for him to speak, "No. No. We're just not used to fine fillies, such as yourself, out in the field looking at our, how should I put it? Inventory." The men continued to stand there cackling like three oafs.
Lou did her best to ignore the man's comment and instead turned her attention towards the girl, grasping her calloused hands and holding them within her own, turning her palms up for inspection.
"My daddy owned and operated a large cotton plantation just outside of Lexington, taught me everything I know where negros are concerned."
"Oh, you don't say?" The man raised his brow in amusement, intrigued by the petite stranger before him.
"You see these lines running down the length of her hand, Mr. Malloy?" Lou asked as she traced the girl's palm with her finger, the large man leaning over to inspect the slave's palm.
"Reckon I do. What about 'em?"
"These long lines running down the length of her palm indicate the lineage of a house servant. I'm confident you'll find this girl won't serve much use to you workin' in the field, Mr. Malloy. On the contrary, she'll bring you the most profit working indoors and minding the house and children." Lou stated, playing along with her own charade.
She walked the few steps over to where the bawling child lay, bending down to pick him up out of the basket. She carried him over, placing him back into his mother's arms, smiling in satisfaction when the baby seemed to pacify himself with his mother's breast. "I think this little one would agree with me. Don't you think?"
Boisterous laughter once again escaped the older man, "Looks like we have a genuine negro whisperer on our hands, gents!" Malloy looked around as the other two men guffawed at his remark.
"And pray tell, what else did your daddy teach you, Mrs. McKay?" Malloy inquired. His words were slow and drawn out as if he could see right through her, and suddenly, Lou could feel her house of cards starting to tumble down.
The heat started to rise in her cheeks, but it wasn't from the midday sun. She stood with her feet firmly planted, carefully considering her next choice of words, knowing her own daddy and Vernon Malloy really weren't all that different.
"That you whip 'em 'cause it's good business, kill 'em' cause it's easier than trustin' 'em."
An impish grin brewed on Malloy's face as he studied her, his eyes surveying up and down her petite form, "My, my! Looks like your daddy taught you well, Ms. Charlotte." He said, lowering his tone. His husky voice seemed to soften as he took a step closer, his breath a mere whisper in her ear, "You don't mind me calling you Charlotte, now do you?"
"Course not, it is my name after all." She said, in a matter-of-fact tone, cautious not to let her nerves get the best of her.
"Sounds to me like your daddy and I would get along mighty fine."
"I have no doubt that would be the case, Mr. Malloy. Unfortunately, you won't ever get the pleasure of meeting my father. He passed away last year."
"Is that so?" He raised an eyebrow, "Well, I'm certainly sorry to hear that, ma'am." Malloy remarked as he inched closer to her side, his large hand reaching out to play with the lace collar of her white blouse.
"Now, Mr. Malloy!..." The pitch of her voice startled the man causing him to retract his hand. She stepped forward and spun around to join Miriam at her side.
"...'bout my earlier question — how much will you take for this girl?"
"Little Mimi here!?" He questioned as his gaze scrutinized the dark-skinned girl, "Now little Mimi is somethin' special to me, ain't she boys!?" He looked over his shoulder at the two men standing nearby.
Scraggs and the third man smiled, exchanging knowing looks between each other, "Oh, Mimi's special alright, Vernon. Real special." Scraggs was heard saying.
"Well, ya see, I don't think I could ever part with my Mimi..." Malloy stated, once again taking a step closer.
"Of course…" He added, "I am a man of business, Mrs. McKay, and even I know everything in this world has its price." He raised the ivory head of his cane to tuck a fly-away wisp of hair behind Lou's ear.
"And if that price is right, I just may..."
"I ain't that type of lady, Mr. Malloy!" She spat, interrupting him.
He chuckled, "No, no I reckon you ain't. But you sure as hell aren't the cultured southern sweetheart you claimed to be."
"I...I…" She froze.
Malloy took her left hand into her own, touching the golden wedding ring on her finger with his thumb. "Where's your husband, Mrs. McKay? Travis, was it?"
Her body was rigid as she stood there, eyes growing large with fear as she struggled to answer his question.
"Some man he must be, sending his wife here to do a man's job! Although I must say, I do admire his taste in women," he stated, teasing his sweaty hand along her wrist.
"You leave my husband out of this." She growled.
Malloy's laugh filled the air once more as he turned her palm over, tracing the lines of her hand, just as she had done with Miriam's.
"You see this line here, Mrs. McKay? Assuming that is your real name, of course.
Well, this line tells me you're a liar, and quite frankly, I don't take too kindly to folks who try to deceive me, no matter how pretty they are."
"I don't know what you're talking about, Mr. Malloy." She said tersely, fighting to remove her hand from his grasp.
"Your daddy's plantation, it was in Lexington, Kentucky, you say?"
She turned her head when she felt his breath on her neck, "Yeah, what about it?"
"Well, first of all, Ms. Charlotte, everyone who's anyone in farming knows you can't grow cotton crops that far north, crops would never survive beyond the first frost," Malloy said, pulling her closer to him.
"Secondly, these hands of yours, well, they ain't exactly as soft as silk, now are they? In fact, I'd be willin' to say they're almost as rough as my Mimi's."
"I've never been one to shy away from hard work. So what?" She said, continuing to squirm.
"I bet your husband likes these rough hands of yours, Ms. Charlotte. Probably feels real nice slidin' up and down his..."
"You're disgusting!" She hissed, tensing as she felt Malloy's hands begin to wander slowly up her sleeve.
Malloy's laugh resonated as he tightened his grip around her arm, turning to look in the direction of the other two men, "She says I'm disgusting, boys!"
Burris and Scraggs joined his mirth as they moved to surround her.
Malloy turned his attention back to Lou, noticing the fear within her eyes, "Well, I reckon I've been called a lot worse, ma'am."
She fought with all her might but struggled against his strength.
"Mm. You sure are a feisty little one, ain't you? Rough hands and plenty of fight, sounds like the makings of a wild night, don't it, boys?"
"Sure does, Vernon!" Burris called out.
"Go to hell!"
"I bet your husband sure has his hands full tryin' to make you obey."
Lou's jaw clenched, and with renewed strength, she was able to free her right arm.
"You're absolutely right, Mr. Malloy. Fortunately for him, though, he found out early on that I was never the obeying type." She quipped, removing her gun from her pocket, cocking the hammer back as she aimed it at the man's head.
"Back away!" She demanded, "You too." She indicated to Burris and Scaggs.
"Now, Ms. Charlotte, we was just havin' a little fun…"
"Fun!? You call this fun?" She interrupted, reaching for Miriam's hand, pulling her close.
"Does this feel like fun?" She asked, firing her first shot at his feet.
"You havin' fun now, Malloy? Lou asked again, cocking the gun once more before firing the second round into the dirt between Scragg's feet.
Her thumb found the hammer a third time, this time backing up with the girl, "You're a sick man, Malloy. I've seen maggots who are less repulsive than you."
"What are ya gonna do, Mrs. McKay? Shoot me? Go to the law? You're stealin' my property, ma'am, and that's a hangin' offense! You'll never get away with it!"
"Property!?" Lou was surprised by his audacity.
"Property!?" She repeated again, "I'm sorry, but unless your last name is Townsend, I don't believe this slave belongs to you."
Malloy stood firm, the muscles in his jaw taught from his clenched teeth.
"Burris?"
"Yeah, Malloy?"
"On my count, I want you to teach our Mrs. McKay here a lesson in submission."
"Scraggs?"
"Yeah, Malloy?"
"Have your gun handy."
"Uh, Vernon? You sure 'bout this?" Scraggs asked.
"Sure as the sun shines in the sky, boys. Looks like my little Charlotte here needs to know where a woman's place is.
Burris slid his hand down the thong of his whip, his other hand gripped tightly around the handle.
Lou eyed the thin man, watching as he caressed the weapon in his hand.
"One!" Malloy called out.
"Vernon, you can't be serious!? What's Matthew gonna think when he finds out you whipped a woman who ain't a darkie?" Scraggs asked.
"Yeah, Malloy! Answer him. What's Matthew Townsend gonna do when you whip lil' ole me?" She asked as the feigned accent made its way back into the conversation.
"Two!" Malloy shouted, choosing to ignore her question.
Burris swallowed hard, "Vernon, I don't know about this..."
"That's right, Burris! You seem like a smart fella, someone who knows right from wrong. Put the whip down, and walk away." Lou offered.
Malloy spoke up, "Don't listen to her, Burris! She don't have it in her to kill a man. She's just foolin' us like she has been doin' all along!"
Lou let out a nervous laugh, "On second thought, go ahead and try me, Burris! You'll be the second one I drop, right after I kill Malloy here." She paused briefly, "And Scraggs? Don't get any ideas or I'll change up the order."
"Three."
Smoke filled the air around her as a single shot was fired, and in the blink of an eye, Malloy's bloodied body lay at her feet.
Lou's arm was outstretched, her gun still cocked and pointed straight ahead as she glanced between both Burris and Scraggs. The two men's faces expressed bewildered emotion, their eyes focusing on a particular spot over her shoulder, and at that moment, it became apparent to them who fired the shot that had hit Vernon Malloy.
Lou felt a tug on her sleeve and turned to find Miriam pointing to the hill behind her.
She brought the gun down to her side, spinning herself around to see what the young girl was desperately wanting her to see. Then suddenly, as if waking from a dream, the clouds of smoke began to clear, her breath caught in the back of her throat when a soldier, clad in a gray Confederate uniform, came into view.
Lou watched carefully as the man holstered his smoking gun, swinging his leg around the back part of the saddle to dismount from his steed.
Sweat began to bead along her upper lip — her mouth as dry as cotton, parched from the heat of the late morning sun. She brought her hand above her brow, her sensitive eyes straining to diffuse the light, but she struggled to make out the man's features as he made his way closer and down into the ditch.
The man's voice was deep, but his words became muffled echoes inside her mind — reverberations that started to make her head start to spin out of control.
She looked down where Malloy's body lay prone at her feet, and suddenly the ground began to sway beneath her as she felt her knees begin to buckle.
Then everything faded to black.