Colorblind (Moonlight) (5 page)

He was looking over the list of slaves he intended to “sell” when a knock sounded on his door. “Yes?”

Julia slipped into his office, her head lowered as she moved toward him. Like Jolie, Julia had pale skin with gray eyes. Their resemblance was so uncanny that they had to be related, possibly sisters. While Jolie was more forward, Julia was shy. She was older than Jolie, possibly somewhere between twenty and twenty-four, and there was much in her demeanor that said she’d suffered more.

“Not tryin’ to bother you, Massa, but Miss Catherine send ova a boy wit’ a letter.” She held out a sealed letter to him before retreating, head still bowed, and waiting to his side.

“Miss Catherine?” he queried, taking the letter and undoing the wax seal. He’d never heard of a Miss Catherine before.

“Miss Catherine is Massa Ryder daughter. He lives ’cross the bayou but ’im and Miss Catherine was travelin’ ’til yesterday.”

“Ah,” was all Leon said as he scanned the contents of the letter. It was a quick note, welcoming him to the neighborhood and inviting him to supper tomorrow. “Thank you, Julia.”

“Yes, Massa,” Julia said, beginning to fidget with her hands, while shifting nervous glances to him. Leon watched her for a few seconds before saying, “Was there something else?”

“The boy—he waitin’ for a response, Massa.”

“I see,” Leon said, nodding as he grabbed a sheet of plain paper and the feather pen and began writing. He thanked Catherine for her invitation, and said he looked forward to meeting her and her father tomorrow evening for supper. Once finished, he used the wooden ink bloter to soak up the excess ink, before folding the note, placing it into an envelope and attaching his seal. He handed it to Julia. “Thank you, Julia.”

She bobbed her head and walked quickly from his office. Jolie had mentioned Ryder before, but he’d forgotten about them after being here in the weeks since without additional mention. As a plantation owner, he would be expected to be friendly with Ryder. Leon hoped the man didn’t make the task too difficult.

***

“That bright smile you wearin’ got anythin’ to do with that white man?”

Penny blinked and returned her attention to Hyacinth, who was peering at her curiously as she stirred the contents of the large black cauldron in front of their quarters. It was close to lunchtime, and soon the field slaves would be crowding around for their meals.

“Which white man, Old Ma?” Penny asked, knowing exactly whom she referred to.
Leon
. She hadn’t seen him for the day as today was one of the three days she worked the fields exclusively.

Hyacinth only gave her a knowing look before returning her attention to the boiling pot. She lifted the lid, placed it onto the pot, and gingerly made her way back to her wooden chair. Penny continued to lean against the side of the shack.

“I been on this earth longer than you, Penny, seen things you can’t even imagine,” Hyacinth said with a little smile. “I know you feel something for that man.”

When she was younger, Penny had learned there was no point lying to Hyacinth. She had an uncanny way of always knowing the truth.

“He’s different,” Penny said softly. They were the only two around the shack so she was able to speak freely. “He’s not like…the rest.”

“Not like Adam Thorn or his demented daddy, you mean? That family full of mean-spirited people,” Hyacinth said, in a strong, clear voice.

Penny nodded. She didn’t know much of his father, outside of the story that he’d shot her mother, but Adam Thorn had been the embodiment of evil. He’d been a few years older, and had enjoyed torturing the slave children when he was younger. She’d faced punishment at the hands of Mr. Pleasant numerous times because of him. Old Ma had protected her when she was younger, keeping her away from the master’s son by having her stay close to the slave quarters, but Adam would always find ways to get close to her.

The first time she’d felt the bullwhip at her back had been because of him. Old Ma had been called to the plantation house. She’d been alone, on a day very like this one, watching the pot. The moment she’d seen his blond head making its way toward the slave quarters, she’d known he was coming to her.

He’d stopped directly before her, sneering down at her as she watched him with the curiosity of a child.

“Up, girl,” she remembered him saying in a voice that had yet to mature. He must have been sixteen or younger, already with much hatred in his heart. She’d obeyed, and against instinct, had followed him as he entered the empty slave quarters. He’d tried to rape her, thinking that her smaller build and status as a slave would make her submissive. She’d fought him, her sharp nails digging deep grooves into his side before managing to run away. She’d run all the way to the plantation house, waiting at the side door for Hyacinth to emerge. Once she had, Penny had collapsed into tears, and told her everything. That evening, Pleasant had come to her quarters with Adam, dragged her out, and beat her until the skin separated from her back. He hadn’t said why, and no one had dared ask, but she’d known.

As the memories assaulted her, she closed her eyes, feeling rage wash over her body. It had hurt, but her tolerance for pain was higher than most of the slaves, and she’d taken it in silence, tears streaming down her face as she bit into her lip. When he finished, Old Ma had tended Penny herself, placing a thick salve over the wounds and watching as it healed before her eyes.

“Leon Arnaud seems kind,” Hyacinth said, pulling her away from the burning rage she still held for Adam. For all of his sins, Adam’s death had been too quick, too kind.

“He is.” Penny hadn’t told anyone of his true reason for being at the plantation. Not even Hyacinth.

Hyacinth gave her a long look before she said, “Be careful, my girl. There are dozens of eyes watching you. Many are enemies, not friends.”

Penny nodded. “Yes, Old Ma.”

“Good,” Hyacinth said, reclining back in the chair. “Check the pot for me. I think it’s finished.”

***

“So, local gossip tells me that you’re from quite a prominent family in France, Monsieur Arnaud?”

Catherine Ryder was what could be termed a traditional Southern lady. He’d come to recognize them in his weeks in Louisiana. They were the daughters and wives of plantation owners, always properly put together and perfectly demure. Some were beautiful, like Catherine, with her blond curls and blue eyes, while others simply commanded attention because they believed it was deserved.

“I guess we are what some would call prominent,” Leon responded with a cool smile. Supper was over, and he was now in the salon with Patrick Ryder and his daughter.

“You guess?” Catherine said with a soft, tinkling laugh. “My sources tell me your family is related to your current president.”

“Catherine,” Patrick Ryder chastised with an affectionate shake of his white-haired head.

It was obvious Ryder was the doting father where his daughter was concerned. During dinner, Leon learned that her mother had passed when she was younger so she had been raised by her father and an aunt, who no longer lived with them. Catherine was also his only child—his only legitimate one—and stood to inherit this plantation and another he owned in Georgia.

“I’m but curious, Father,” Catherine replied with a smile. She lifted her glass of sherry to her lips and blinked coquettishly. “So, Monsieur Arnaud, are you going to answer my question?”

“Connections, perhaps, but we are of no relation, Miss Catherine,” Leon replied. It was true. His father was involved in politics so there were naturally connections to Napoleon Bonaparte, but as Bonaparte was quite human despite his own belief, and they were not, the connection ended there.

“Oh, we are neighbors. You may call me Catherine if I may do the same and use your given name,” she said, lightly placing her hand upon his jacket.

“Thank you, Catherine. I would be honored if you called me Leon.”

“Wonderful,” Catherine said, blond curls bouncing as she turned to face her father. “Isn’t that wonderful, Father?”

“Yes, of course, Catherine,” Patrick replied with a smile.

Leon looked around the room, at the two female slaves by the doors. They looked about as thrilled to be there as he felt.

“Well, we regret that we weren’t here to give you proper introduction to Louisiana society,” Catherine said after a few moments of silence. “We are nowhere near as sophisticated as French society, but we do have the most magnificent galas. Perhaps I shall throw you one?”

“Catherine—”

“Oh, Father, may we? The end of summer approaches and we’ve been traveling for so long we haven’t had our annual gala. May we hold it in honor of our new neighbor?”

“Of course, darling,” Ryder said, lifting his glass to his lips and shaking his head.

“If this is an inconvenience—”

“I won’t hear of it, Arnaud,” Ryder interrupted with a wave of his hand. “We are your neighbors and it is our responsibility to introduce you to society.”

“Well, in that case, thank you,” Leon replied graciously. He doubted he would like anyone in their society, but he a charade to keep up, which meant he had to do things he wasn’t particularly keen about.

“Don’t thank us yet,” Catherine replied in a low but humorous voice. “You may wish you’d never met us after introduction to some of our friends.”

Ryder chuckled, and Catherine grinned at him as if they shared a secret.

“Well, it is getting late,” Leon said.

“Of course,” Ryder stated, coming to his feet. Leon did the same, and Catherine followed. “You must be on your way. Managing a plantation is no easy business.”

“No, it is not.”

“I will walk you out—” Ryder began.

“As shall I, Father,” Catherine interrupted, but graciously amended when her father shook his head once. “Ah, it seems I am to retire early this night. It was a pleasure meeting you, Mr. Ryder. Expect to be hearing from me soon over our gala.”

She held out her hand and Leon bowed over it. He watched her leave the salon, all effortless poise and grace.

“A beauty, isn’t she?” Ryder’s hand landed affectionately on Leon’s shoulder and Leon resisted the urge to remove it. “She’s the spitting image of her mother, God rest her soul. Lovely and can charm the wits out of anyone.”

“Yes.”

When they stepped out onto the front porch, Ryder said, “Shame about Thorn, dying like he did.”

“Yes.”

“Don’t know if you know, but Thorn and I were in the midst of a business arrangement when he passed.”

Leon took a step back, effectively breaking Ryder’s hold on him as he turned to face the older man.

“Business arrangement?” Leon thought the banks had taken care of all of Adam Thorn’s unfinished business.

“Yes, he’d agreed to sell me a slave,” Ryder replied with a grin. He reached into his coat pocket and withdrew a box of cigars. “Care for one?”

“No, thank you,” Leon replied, waiting until he lit the cigar before asking, “Which slave?”

“A slave that gives too much trouble for her own good,” Ryder answered, blowing out a puff of smoke. “Don’t know if you’ve run into her yet. She works the fields.”

A chill ran down his spine as a memory of something Jolie had said surfaced.

“I’m afraid I’m not very familiar with the field slaves.” Ryder nodded approval. “What’s her name?” His voice sounded extremely cool for the amount of anger coursing through his body.

“Penny. Tall, dark. Pretty, I guess.” Ryder puffed on the cigar again and said, “I’m willing to give you a good price for her.”

“Mr. Ryder, forgive me ignorance, but why would you want a slave who gives trouble?”

“Nothing to forgive,” Ryder said with a smug smile. “You’re new to this world so you don’t know yet. Most of the girls don’t have any fight left. The ones that do…they’re rare, and better at
other things
than working the fields.” He gave Leon a knowing stare that made Leon itch to give in to his beast’s demand to rip out his throat. He had no intention of selling Penny to anyone, least of all to Patrick Ryder.

“I’m afraid she’s not for sale,” Leon said coolly.

“She’s not for—?” Ryder began before drifting off. His grin faded and he said, “You haven’t even heard my offer.”

Leon shook his head. “I’ve sold a few of the field slaves for a profit, and need all the hands I can use at the moment.”

“Oh,” Ryder said, brushing a speck from his clothing before grinning again. “Of course. We’ll discuss her again at a later time then, when you have enough slaves to tend your fields and won’t mind the sale of one nigra girl.”

Leon nodded. “Of course. Good night, Mr. Ryder.”

“Arnaud,” Ryder said. “You want any of my boys to escort you back?”

“No, thank you. I’ll manage.” He did not need any of the “boys” to escort him back to his plantation because unlike most of the plantation owners, he was not afraid of the slaves.

“You sure? Sometimes the nigras around here go crazy. Some say it’s the heat. Others say genetic.”

“Positive. Thank you for your concern.”

***

The ride back to his plantation took barely ten minutes. It would have been quicker if Leon had been in a hurry, but he wasn’t. He was thinking about her…again. It was just after seven, and still too early to meet her for the night, but that didn’t stop him from thinking about what they’d do tonight. And what they wouldn’t. As that the last thought swirled in his mind, he remembered her taste, her scent, the feel of her quivering around his finger.

Shaking his head, Leon shifted his thoughts back to his reasons for being there. He was reminding himself of that when his sharpened vision caught sight of movement in front of the house.
Pleasant
. Snapping his teeth together, he nudged the horse faster, until he was directly in front of the overseer. Dismounting, he patted the horse’s neck, and asked, “Is something wrong, Mr. Pleasant?” Something obviously was, considering that Pleasant usually left after he locked most of the slaves away at dusk.

“I was wantin’ a word ’fore I left,” Pleasant responded. Leon nodded and began leading his horse to the stable. Pleasant followed silently. As Leon led his horse to its stall, Pleasant spoke. “Them niggers is gettin’ bold.”