Colorblind (Moonlight) (12 page)

Leon nodded, placing them at the edge of the desk. “Some of the names were changed from the originals, but Penny has drafted a new and updated list, and these are the records for each of them.”

Armand picked them up and quickly rifled through them, nodding as he did so.

“I’ll send you word when they’re in New York—”

“Both of you are escorting them?” Leon asked.

Étienne nodded, but Armand spoke. “Étienne does not know the route yet. The next time, he will come alone, and I will take them from Virginia to New York.”

“How soon will you send for the next batch?” Leon wondered aloud.

“A few months,” Armand said, rolling the sheets of paper up and slipping them into a cylindrical leather container he’d removed from the pouch at his hip. “As soon as I return to Virginia, which should be a few weeks after the slaves are in New York and on their way to Canada, I will write requesting another shipment. Of course, to keep suspicion at bay, it would be best to wait some more weeks before—”

Armand broke off and from the thoughtful look in his eyes, Leon decided his brother had thought up something genius. He waited to find out what it was.

“It wouldn’t hurt if in a few weeks, you began a slave-trading business. You could register it in New Orleans, and myself and a few others who are aware of the true nature of the company would be your clients.”

Leon stared at his brother for long moments before the hint of a smile softened his lips. “I’m presuming this company will be of private interest and by invitation only.”

“Of course,” Armand replied. “Such a business has never been illegal.”

***

“So tha’s wha’ you mean by he different.”

Penny jumped a bit at the sound of Old Ma’s voice, and turned in the direction of the slave quarters. Hyacinth stood there, braced against the door frame for support as a little grin curved her lips up. She wondered how long the older woman had been there.

“I been standin’ here long ’nough to see why you say he different,” she retorted, reading the question in Penny’s eyes.

Easily crossing the distance between them, Penny led her back to her cot, chastising her for getting up as she did so. Because she was growing older, Hyacinth tended to need more rest than ever.

“Girl, I raised you from baby days ’til you old ’nough to handle you’self and now you tellin’ me what to do?”

It was asked with incredulity as well as humor. Penny smiled and gently placed her onto the cot. It was packed with the scraps of torn clothes and material that had been tossed out from the big house, and aided with Hyacinth’s comfort.

“Do you want me to rub some ointment on your knees and ankles?” Penny remembered the ointment in her satchel. Like most of the older slaves on the plantation, Hyacinth had joint problems, particularly in her knees. Sometimes, she used a stick to help her get around.

“Psshaah!” Hyacinth said. “I want to talk about that white man tha’s so smitten with you he look ready to kill his own just for frightenin’ you.”

A little smile curved Penny’s lips as she reached for the ointment. She dipped two fingers into the minty-smelling goo and placed it into the center of her palm. Rubbing her hands together, she applied it to Hyacinth’s knees.

Hyacinth watched her for long seconds, grimacing as the ointment, which went on cool and then grew warm to the point of hot water. She spoke in a serious voice. “You be careful, hear me? Don’t matter how differen’ ’e is, ‘e still white and you still colored. Best you could hope for is a nice townhouse in the negro district in New Orleans where you raise ’is colored kids and serve ’im in bed.”

“Old Ma—”

“No, you hear me out.” Hyacinth took Penny’s hands in her wrinkled and gnarled ones. “I don’ have a doubt in my mind tha’ this Massa is better than both of ’em twisted Thorns that rottin’ in hell. Not one doubt. From what I just seen, he seem to care ’bout you. I ain’t gonna ask what you doin’ for him that make him care so much…”

Penny felt herself blush from the roots of her hair to the bottoms of her feet. Old Ma didn’t understand, and while she couldn’t fully explain it to her, she could bring her just a bit closer to such an understanding. Well, she could try.

“Old Ma, it’s not—”

The hand holding hers tightened. “’Cause I don’ wanna know. You a grown woman, and I proud of the woman you grow into. I just don’ wan’ you hurt. You got to go into things like these wit’ your eyes open.” Hyacinth’s grip loosened a bit and she smiled a sad, knowing smile. “The plight of the negro in this world is heartbreaking, child. No matter if that white man love you more than he love hisself, best you could hope for is being his colored mistress, and givin’ him a set of colored children while ’is white wife gives him ’is heirs.”

Even as her heart denied it, Penny knew Hyacinth was right. Even if she and Leon were mated, they would not be allowed to marry in any state, even the northern ones. The closest she could get to wife was the title of mistress.

But you are his mate,
a voice said from inside. Even if she was, she still wanted the option of becoming Mrs. Leon Arnaud, of doing something as simple as walking among other people and not having to call him “Massa”.

“Don’ you be sad now, my girl. This just the way of the world. I told you I ain’t scared of dyin’ before, but I never give you the reason. They got to be a place better than this one I spent almost ninety years on, and I lookin’ forward to it.” She patted Penny’s hand and released it. “Go take that ointment to whoever need it, and don’ let what I jus’ tell you make you upset none, you hear?”

Penny nodded and stood, trying to find a smile but finding she could not.

***

“What comfortable lodgings these are,” Étienne murmured in French, grinning wide as he sprawled out in one corner of the stable stall. His bed was a hastily pushed-together stack of hay, with a similar pillow to match.

Armand only threw him a droll glare before settling against his own makeshift bed. It would be much more comfortable if they could shift to wolf form, but since the stables were a very public place, they could not take that risk.

“What are the chances that Leon put us in the stables because he’s still mad at you for scaring his mate half to death?”

“Slim,” Armand replied, knowing the reason they were in the stables and not in one of the many guestrooms the plantation had to offer was because they’d come as slavers. They were essentially the help, and you did not treat your help as guests. Even if Leon had offered lodging in the guestrooms, which he had not, Armand would have refused for both himself and Étienne.

“I’m still surprised Leon didn’t take a chunk out of you,” Étienne said with an easy chuckle.

“You and Sebastian are the ones who act before you think. Leon and I have more control.”

“Ha!” Étienne barked in laughter. “He almost took off my arm, in case you forgot.”

Armand was about to reply when the stench of sweat and rotting teeth hit him.

Pleasant’s approaching
, he said, speaking directly into Étienne’s mind.

A more pleasant man we’ve never met
, his brother muttered, sitting up and eyeing the entrance to the stall.

“You boys gon’ be stayin’ the night?” Pleasant asked, scratching the area around his groin and spitting into hay beside him.

“Yea. You?”

“Being around these niggers mos’ o’ the day is ’nuff for me. Goin’ home to wash off the stink.”

His stink,
Armand corrected, and from the veiled way Étienne watched him, he knew his brother thought it too.

“Hollis gon’ be here though, in case y’all need some extra hands if them niggers start actin’ up.”

“Ain’t they locked up?” Armand asked, reverting to the colloquialism that would put Pleasant at ease.

“Yea, they is. Locked up them field niggers maself.” He paused and looked around as if he was about to share a piece of information Armand and Étienne were going to be privileged to hear. “Pity Arnaud start lockin’ up the house niggers. Got one in there look as good as white and take it better than any white woman I ever had.”

Even as the uncontrollable urge to deliver a few solid punches to Pleasant’s smug face overcame Armand, he replied, “Shame.”

Pleasant grinned. “If they wasn’ lock up, both y’all could have tried her. Gray eyes like you can’t imagine on a nigger, red lips, even ’er ’air don’ look like no nigger hair—reddish brown and loose down ’er back. If you ain’t kno’ better, you think she a white woman.” Lewdly, he grabbed his crotch and rearranged himself before he looked to both of them and said, “I got to get home to my old lady ’fore she start naggin’ and bitchin’ like she usually do. See y’all in the mornin’.”

After he left, Étienne mused, “Do you think Leon would mind if a particularly angry wolf attacked his overseer as he’s heading home?”

“Sadly, yes,” Armand replied with finality, although he fully understood where his brother was coming from. And if he didn’t, when minutes later, an almost ethereal beauty with blank gray eyes and reddish-brown hair pinned up atop her head entered their stall with a mug and a plate of biscuits, he was positive he understood.

“Massa says I’s to bring you these ’fore I lock up for the night,” she said, looking from one brother to the other. Her gaze rested on Armand a bit longer, before she dropped her eyes, and said, “Where is you wantin’ me to put the tray?”

Étienne was already standing when Armand spoke. “I’ll take it.” He removed the tray from her hands. He hoped to Luna that she wasn’t the slave Pleasant had been speaking of but everything about her said she was. Her face, her eyes, her hair, everything. She was exquisitely made, he decided. There was something about her that was almost heavenly. If she laughed, he imagined she would easily light up a room. Laughter was not something the woman before him indulged in, he knew. She wore her pain around her like a constant shield.

“If you’s not wantin’ anythin’ else, I’s gon’ go now,” she said softly, shuffling back even as her eyes remained downcast. It was then that he sensed something else.
Fear.
She was terrified of him, of Étienne. It was not a fear of them, per se, but a fear of men.

Armand immediately put distance between them. “Thanks. We don’ need nothin’ more.”

She nodded hastily and left.

As Armand handed the tray to Étienne, his expression was thoughtful. He remained standing for long moments before Étienne said, his voice low and serious, “If we leave now, we can still catch Pleasant before he gets onto any main roads.”

Armand appeared to consider it before he shook his head, and dropped back onto the hay. “Tomorrow. He’ll come back tomorrow.”

***

Penny was unusually quiet as she lay draped against Leon’s naked body. She’d even thrown up shields to prevent him from entering her mind and seeing what thoughts plagued her.

From the moment she’d arrived in his bedchambers, he’d sensed something was wrong, but before he could ask, she’d thrown herself into his arms, and he’d succumbed to both of their needs. Sated, he could now see truly that something was bothering his mate.

“What troubles you,
ma louve
?” he murmured softly, shifting his body to nuzzle at her neck.

A little sigh escaped her before she replied, “It is nothing.”

“If it is nothing, why have you blocked me from your thoughts?” he countered easily, pushing onto his elbows so he could look down at her face.

Penny stared at him for long moments before a little smile curved her lips and she shook her head. “It’s silly.”

“It won’t be silly to me if it’s bothering you,” he replied softly.

Her gaze never left his and he knew she contemplated whether she should tell him. Leon waited patiently, hoping she would trust him enough to share whatever was on her mind.

“I—you and I can never be legally married,” she said with a smile that did not reach her eyes. She would rather do anything but smile at this moment. He sensed the sadness that came with that statement.

“You are my mate, Penny—”

“Yes, I know, Leon,” she said, a bit sharper than she’d intended. Upset with herself for growing irate at him, she pushed at his chest and sat up, pulling the thin sheets across her bare breasts. “I know I’m your mate, and the bond we share is more powerful than the title of husband or wife, but I would still like the option.”

When he said nothing, she stood and moved over to the window, looking out at the full moon that seemed to hover close.

She felt him at her back not moments later, and then his hands were linking together across her flat belly.

“You did not allow me to finish,
ma louve
,” he chastised softly, easing it with a light kiss behind her ear. “I was saying that you’re my mate, and although that bond is stronger than any contract drawn up on paper, the contract is necessary in the event that something happens to me.”

She tried to turn, but his hands kept her still. “Although such a contract cannot be legalized in this country, my country has less prejudice in its laws. So, you are wrong,
ma louve
. You and I can be legally married. It will simply have to be in another country.”

He let her turn to face this time. Dark brown eyes searched his and then she asked softly, “Your country has no laws against such marriages, between whites and negroes?”

Leon kissed her forehead. “My country has laws against everything.” He smiled when she frowned. “But many of them are not upheld and they are certainly not upheld in our communities.”

She nodded and turned back to the moon facing them. Dropping the shields she’d put up around her thoughts, she asked,
Do you ever think there will be a time when couples like you and I can legally get married in this country?

He did not reply for long moments before he finally said, “I think so,
ma louve
. The human race has proved cruel beyond measure. I will give them the benefit of the doubt when it comes to stupidity.”

She chuckled and turned back to him.

“You really don’t consider yourself even a bit human, do you?”

“No. I—
we
—are not human, Penny. We can take human shape and we can take the shape of a wolf, but we are a species separate from both.”