Flight of Fancy: Cora's Daughters (54 page)

Immobilized by finally being in her presence, he gazed into the cell thru the darkness, listening to her. She was quiet, all except for slight, occasional low mumbles. She was talking to herself, praying or reading.

He could see for himself that she had been supplied with all that she would need. For privacy, a triple paneled screen – as well a washing stand, mirror, a comb and brush - a lantern, books, blankets, a table and chair. He smiled, thinking of Della, she had indeed seen to the needs of his wife.

His mind reflected over their time since arriving there. Certainly without a doubt, Boaz and Della were their best friends. He could not deny the positive contributions in their lives because of them.

Breaking into his thoughts, he heard her give off a sigh of boredom. Her cot in the corner was also shrouded in darkness where he could only make out grey-blue hues that outlined her.

For the moment, the only light she had, shone from the full moon through the barred window, casting shadows off the window bars onto the floor near the cell door. The gentle, dim moon light barely touched her – keeping her well shadowed.

Asiza lay on her side, quiet. She’d just blown out her lantern, no longer reading. She was aware that her two night guards had arrived and were silent. The past three nights, they would stand and sing, tell jokes between them and speak to her making sure that she was all right. Because of them, the nights hadn’t been too bad – she’d been comforted by a sense of safety with them there. Her days were spent with what seemed to be more attention than she’d had at the boarding house. Millie would bring Asa, as well as other friends from the boarding house. Not for a moment neglecting her, Della was there seeing to her with the lawyers who also came to check on her, making sure she had all that she needed. Her meals were plentiful and her time incarcerated was made as comfortable as possible. The actions of all, even the sheriff was as if they were apologizing for having to put her through it. Indeed it all helped to make the experience easier to cope with than what she had at first feared and imagined.

The only harsh moments of it came when the banker’s son tried to persuade the sheriff into looking the other way. He even offered him money – but the sheriff wasn’t taking. Nathaniel Beck was eaten up with so much hatred for her and the way she was being treated, that he’d come to her window one night, full of spirits.

He had no conscience that made him scrutinize his father, the mayor and the wealthy plantation owner – who together, tortured, raped, brutalized and murdered more than a few of the fancies they purchased for their twisted and deviant pleasures. Those deeds – which he was well aware of, as well as others from the town who knew – never kept them up at night, nor gave them reasons to rethink their actions.

It would seem, no one felt ashamed or remorseful. Steeped as they were in the belief that it was their right to use slaves any way they deemed necessary for their own amusement.

Outside of her cell, under the pale moonlight, he had placed a crate, which he had drunkenly climbed on, looking in to spot her with hopes of shooting her.

After all, she knew what they were, how animalistic they behaved. With her being a survivor, there lie their only shame in that she’d lived to come north and possibly report their deeds. He wanted to annihilate her. Yet, standing where he was, he couldn’t find her, and so he’d spewed his venom to insult her. Asiza had stood in the corner of the cell, against the wall of the window, her back to it in a place impossible for him to see her.

“Where ar’you nigger?” He sneered, “Show yourself wench – you worthless piece o’trash.” He’d growled in passionate hatred, “Heah’me… I say show yourself! They fooled, not me – I know what you did – know it was you. I get my hands on you wench - I’mo whip you ‘til you burst into flames! Then I’m gone fuck you while I take that head of yours clean off - you heah’me? You witch!” He shook the bars, spitting as if suffering from a madness that destroying her could only cure, “Heah’me - treatin’ you niggers like decent white folks – not me… I get you, you dead – heah me nigger – you dead!” He snarled.

Asiza had stood still, in the dark, watching him, seeing how tightly his hands gripped the iron bars that kept him from her – watching as flecks of spittle flew in from his mouth pressed so tightly as if he could squeeze thru – and certainly he had tried. She remained quiet, saying not a word as his words filled her cell. A moment later, Christian had come up behind him. “Youuu – I cud’easily snap yer neck,” She heard him spit, “Y’cum agin an’ I’ah ‘ave yer’hide aflame ye’bloody bastid! You make m’shame t’look th’likes uv’ya.”

There had been some scuffling, and then beneath her window. “’e gone lass… e’gone. They’ah not touc’ya lass… no, they’ah not.” He’d sworn.

Still she stood, wondering at times if she should burn for her sins – but then, looking back, only fleetingly had she felt regret about what she’d done. Not only that, she knew that everything - every bit of it, she would do again. They – individuals like them, her enemies had left no choice in the matter. Her hand had gone to the place where Broc’s child lay secure, protected. Gazing heavenward, she stood before her maker of clear conscience because she had done what she had to do to survive. Walking to her cot, she had been about to lie down and instead she knelt beside it and prayed.

Concluding that, she’d climbed in bed going straight to sleep, with only a hope that soon Broc would be back.

Back
to the present, that night, she sat up with her back to the wall, looking out from her cell into the semi-dark passage way that led to the office and out.

They were quiet, Christian and Sean. She couldn’t make out who stood in attendance this night. She couldn’t help but wonder if there was someone new guarding her. In fact, as she stared, piercing the shadows with aid from the glow of the lamp, she could see and felt his eyes upon her, this new one, who stood watching her. She was a bit un-nerved by it and wished the person would identify himself. Asiza wasn’t afraid of the dark – because it was her best cloak, where she felt safest.

“Christian?” she called out.

“’E’be in fron’.” Came the reply.

He
was
new, she relaxed. Turning from him, she refocused thoughts on herself. In the dark, she could pretend that she was once more in the forest, high up in a tree – safe from all who would harm her. She smiled with thoughts of Broc and when they traveled, how he insisted she climb the tree at night and stay up there. That then brought to mind the song he used to sing to her. To comfort herself, she brought her knees up hugging them, leaned her head back against the wall, closed her eyes and started humming it.

Her song.

As she became caught up and lost in it, suddenly accompanying her soft humming came the soft and wonderful sound of someone whistling it –
her
song. There was only
one
other person who knew that song. Her eyes popped open, she stopped to listen. The whistling continued, her song continued. With a gentle gasp, her heart took flight. She stood from the cot, walking slowly towards the bars, crossing the beam of moonlight that showed her to the eyes eager to see her. At the bars she gripped two, looking towards the sound of the whistling. Tears flooded her eyes, spilling over they dropped off of her chin. Softly, as if afraid, she called out his name, “Broc?”

The whistling stopped and in its place, her song being sang, ever so softly. The man singing it stepped slowly towards her until she could make him out. His hands covered hers on the bars as he went silent, standing as close to her as he could with the obstacle between them. “Shhh lass, I’m here… I’m here.”

Asiza felt a lump grow in her throat as she pushed her body against the bars wanting so badly to touch him.

He so badly wanted the same, and tried to put his arms through them to rap around her, but they were too thick in muscle to get thru.

Asiza didn’t have that problem, her arms went through just fine to wrap around his strong solid body. She whimpered with her need for him, having missed him so badly.

Broc stood wiping the tears from her face, leaning down he turned his head to kiss her lips, “Shhh, I know lass, I know…” he crooned passionately. He kissed every part of her face that he could reach around the bars, touching her skin, stroking her head where he could get his hands in, just up to part of his forearms.

Simultaneously, they panted to each other.

“Forgive me lass.”

“Forgive me Broc.”

They sniffed, smiled, grew silent once more and then tried again, “I love you.” Again, they both muttered the endearment at the same time.

Asiza’s head rested between two bars, coming thru just enough for him to kiss her brow repeatedly, the tip of her nose, and down to her lips.

“Tell me, what wud’you have me do lass, I’ah do it, I will.” He whispered passionately, “Nothin’ means more t’me than you, than our little one.”

Asiza gasped once more, “You know?”

“Aye, Della told me, say the word, I’ah get you free, get our Asa and we’ah be gone.”

She couldn’t find her voice at that particular moment, having him there, hearing his voice, his hands struggling to touch of her what he could reach. It amazed her how his presence affected her.

“You want out? This night, we’ah be gone… away from this place.”

She gave him a sad smile, her hands went to the hat on his head, removing it to touch his hair, running her fingers through it.

“Tell’me lass… tell me.” He pleaded, wanting her so badly it hurt, “Tell me what ye’want… I’ah give it, I’ah give all – do all – say it.”

Asiza sniffed, his thumbs wiped at her tears, his palms cupping both sides of her face gently as he waited to hear her desire.

“I want to be free.”

He misunderstood, “I’ah get you out – I’ah be-…” he had been stepping away when she pulled him back, holding on tight.

“No… I want to be, truly free. Not running. I want you – my husband. I want this baby.”

“I want Asa… I want to live here – I want to do whatever you say – stand by all that you are trying to build. I want you to do, what Della tells you to do… so – that
we
can be free.”

Tears filled Broc’s eyes and rolled for her to reach up and gently stroke the tracks of them, “I don’t want to run anymore. I want to settle down, right here so that you and I, can really be free. An’ Broc, I promise you, I will never doubt you again – whatever you have to do for us, our future, our children… you do.”

Broc nodded his head, and leaning down kissed her mouth as best he could, his two large hands engulfing her small head, “Aiy lass, then it’ah be – that what you desire, will be.”

“You should go now, make yourself proper-…”

“No lass, I’ah not leave yer’side, not ever-…”

“You have to go. You-…”

“I’ah go before the deputy comes – promise. Now go, get t’that cot, res’ – you’ve my babe to see to… go.”

Asiza nodded, they kissed once more, deeply.

She went to her cot, lying down.

He lay on the floor against her jail cell, resting a few hours of what was left of the night.

The next day, he spent with Della and her lawyers. He told them all of what he knew concerning the mayor, the banker and the wealthy plantation owner. The practiced deeds they’d made a habit of ritualizing. He left nothing out surrounding the undertaker’s tale of how often he’d gone to the secret place to remove the bodies of fancies who did not survive the night. He told them every single detail concerning the things that the undertaker saw which had been done to them. For Della it was too much - before Broc could finish, she left the office so he could carry on. She felt weak on her feet, clinging to the walls of the hall until she made it to the kitchen – where she finally broke down sobbing her eyes out because she couldn’t get the horrific images of what had been done to so many of them, out of her mind.

Chapter Thirty-Four

Broc would not leave town, would not go back to the building site. He left everything to Boaz and Michael to continue on supervising and for the first time, a man temporarily resided at the boarding house. He and Asa shared the room that had once been his and Asiza’s. The ladies, Asa and Della told him all about the deeds of Emma Byrd’s beau, Jack Tanner, and how he was the one who brought the other two men there for Asiza.

It took every bit of strength within Broc’s self-control to hold out and wait before he saw to the three men who were responsible for putting his wife thru what they had. He would not let it rest – he would not let them get away with what they’d done – he only waited for the right moment to deal with it and deal with
them
… he would. As far as he was concerned, this nonsense against her, needed to be brought to a conclusion and soon.

Three days later,
finally
they met before a judge who would decide if this case needed to go to trial before a jury. Before he entered the hall, gathering there was the plaintiff, Nathaniel Beck and Ernest Billow, who had brought the charges against Asiza. Out of interest, Jack Tanner attended. Later he would come to regret that appearance. Before then, Broc had only his description by others to go by – that was no longer the case. Following them, the sheriff and deputy who had arrested and guarded her - that day they escorted her and handed her over to sit with her lawyers, Mr. Burdock and Mr. O’Brien.