The Immortelles (26 page)

Jeff was shocked at the turn of events. “Is all this really necessary, Damita?”

“Yes, it is. It's the only way to save the plantation, and Yancy's the only man who can do it.”

“But I thought he was a clerk of some sort.”

“He is now, but he took an old plantation in Shreveport from nothing to one of the finest places in the county. I'm praying he can do the same thing with this one, but it's hard. I had to agree to let him make all the decisions.”

“Surely you're not going to let him sell items that mean something to you!”

Damita gave him a desperate look. “We have to do it. He's our only hope, Jeff. I get upset with him, but I promised that he could have full control.”

“Damita, if you'd marry me, we could save this house and the plantation, too. I don't like to sound like a braggart, but my father left me well-off.”

Damita smiled wanly, reached out, and put her hand on his arm. “You don't know how much I'd like to do that, but I just can't, Jeff. I don't love you like that.”

Just then, Yancy came back into the room, followed by Elena, who was in tears. “Yancy, we can't sell that bed! It's a family heirloom.”

“I'm sorry, Mrs. Madariaga, but we've got to have cash.”

“How much is the bed? I'll buy it,” Jeff said impetuously.

“Oh, no, Jeff, you can't do that,” Damita insisted. She saw his intention. “You can't buy all of our furniture.”

“Certainly I can!”

Yancy shrugged. “If you pay the top dollar, you can have it.”

“Is there no sentiment in you, Yancy Devereaux?” Elena cried.

Damita walked over to her mother and suggested, “Mama, go out to the plantation. This is too hard on you.”

“That would be a good idea, I think,” Yancy said quickly. “As a matter of fact, why don't you go with them, Damita? I can take care of this.”

“No, I'm going to stay here and help you.”

“You mean,” Yancy grinned, “you're going to stay here and argue with me over every piece of furniture.”

Jeff Whitman watched the two and suddenly felt anger, and he knew it was foolish. He had made his offer, and Damita had refused it. He reiterated, “Damita, anything you really want to keep, I'll buy and store it until you can use it.”

“Thank you, Jeff, but I can't let you do that.”

Jeff sighed and asked, “When will you be moving to the plantation?”

“Today,” Yancy said. “The new owner of this house is coming tomorrow, and we have to be out of it.”

“After you get settled in, I'll come out and visit.” Jeff departed, feeling somehow left out. Yancy Devereaux had taken over, and this gave him an uneasy feeling.
That fellow has no sensitivity,
he thought.
I don't know why Damita would want his help rather than mine.

He drove to the hospital, and when he arrived, he found that Charissa had preceded him. “You're late,” she said as he entered the surgeon's room where the doctors kept their street clothes.

“I went by Damita's. You know what they're doing?” He changed his coat and explained the Madariagas' plan. He ended by saying angrily, “That fellow Devereaux—she's given him full authority.”

“It sounds like a good plan to me. If he's a skillful overseer, maybe he can save the plantation for them.”

“I don't like it. It was painful to see them having to sell their furniture like beggars.”

“It may do them some good.”

Jeff turned and faced Charissa, his eyes wide with surprise. “What do you mean by that?”

“They've never had any real needs, Jeff. Want tends to mature people. You don't learn from good times but from bad. Maybe this will make them view others a little differently.”

“You just don't understand, Charissa. They're not used to this sort of thing, and it's unnecessary. Why, if she'd marry me, it would solve all their problems.”

Charissa shook her head. “No, it wouldn't,” she said quietly and left the room.

Jeff stared after her and tried to understand what she meant.
That young woman is an enigma. She just doesn't understand how it is with me, how much I love Damita.

Damita stepped down from the carriage, and a strange feeling overtook her. She looked over the fine, old home, then ran her eyes across the fields that spread out in every direction.
I've taken all this for granted for years. It was just here, and now that I might lose it, I realize how much it means to me.

Yancy had tied up the horses, and now he said, “We've got a lot of work to do, Damita.”

“I know.”

“I know you think I'm a miser, but we have a long way to go before we make this place into a paying proposition.”

“I know.” She turned and faced him. “I know I'm spoiled, and I've never had to work. None of us have. You'll just have to be patient with us.”

“Patient as Job. By the way, I'm going to have a talk with Napier. I think you ought to be there.”

“He's an unpleasant man. I've tried to talk to him, but I've never been able to like him.”

“When I was here, I talked to the slaves, and . . . I might as well be blunt. He's forced himself on some of the female slaves.”

Damita stared at him. “I didn't know that.”

“It's a common thing, but it's going to stop. He's also too free with that whip of his. That's going to stop too. Come along. You want to change clothes, or go as you are?”

“These will be all right.”

The two walked past the main house, past the line of cabins where the slaves lived, and to the shack where Napier lived alone. He was sitting outside and stood as the pair arrived.

“Need
to talk with you, Napier.”

Claude stared at him without expression. “What is it?” he growled.

“Things are going to be different around here from now on,” Yancy said. “We need to get it straight. I want you to hear it from Miss Madariaga.”

“Hear what?”

“That I'm in complete charge of this plantation.”

Napier glared at him. “I've been the overseer a long time!”

“You still are, but I'm the overseer of the overseer. Isn't that right, Miss Madariaga?”

“That's right, Napier. You must obey any orders that Mr. Devereaux gives you.”

“The first order I'll give you is this, Napier: You will not take advantage any longer of the female slaves. The first time I hear of it, you are off the place.”

Napier shot a glance at Damita but then said truculently, “Who's been telling you tales?”

“You haven't been too careful to hide your tracks. I'm not arguing about this. Do you understand what I'm saying?”

“Any more orders?” he asked, sneering.

“Lots of them, and here's another. You've beaten some of the slaves. That's all over.”

“You can't work field slaves without discipline.”

“I'll do the disciplining, but if I catch you whipping anyone, we'll have more than words. Now, what are you doing here? You don't have enough work to do?”

Damita was standing slightly behind Yancy. She saw the huge muscles in Napier's arms and shoulders tense, and for a moment she was afraid he would attack his new boss. He was a brute of a man, and she had heard about how he had beaten men senseless.

“If you've got anything to say, say it now,” Yancy said coolly. He was facing Napier, standing loosely with his feet slightly spread and his arms at his sides.

“You'll see quick enough that babying these slaves won't do,” he answered. “But now I've got work to do out in the east field.” He turned and walked toward the stable, and rebellion showed in the set of his straight back and the way he held his head.

“I don't know why Papa kept him on so long. He's a cruel man.”

“He'll have to toe the line or get out. As a matter of fact, I've got half a mind to run him off now. It'll come sooner or later, I think. But there's something else that we've got to talk about.”

“All right, Yancy. What is it?”

“We've got to get rid of about half of the slaves. My plan is to keep the best ones, treat them well, and encourage them so that they'll work hard. When I took a look, I saw a lot of field hands just loafing. Some of them were too old to be in the fields. Slavery's a bad system, and I see the worst of it here.”

“If that's what you think, then I'm sure it must be done.”

“I'm going to be busy, so I'm giving you the chore of deciding which ones to sell.”

“Me? Why, I can't do that! Some of these have been with us for years.”

“I'm sure they have, and you've always been interested in their welfare!” Yancy said sharply.

Damita's eyes flew open at his statement. It was true. She had never given any thought to the welfare of the slaves, and she knew he was thinking about the beating that she arranged for Charissa. “I can't do it.”

“You'll have to. I can't do everything. First, decide which ones we really need. Then go to your rich friends, people you know who will treat them decently. They'll be glad to do you a favor, won't they?”

“I'd be like a beggar.”

Yancy grinned. “That's what you are, Damita. We all are, in one way or another. I don't think you've understood yet how hard this is going to be. It'll be a miracle if we make it through the next two years, so let's settle it right now. You've agreed to do what I've said, and now I'm saying to help me get rid of half of these slaves. Yes or no?”

Damita's face flushed. She hated to take orders, but as she looked at his face, she understood that he expected her to refuse. Stubbornness rose in her, and she said, “All right, I'll do it then.”

Yancy was somewhat surprised but nodded with approval. “Try to keep the families together,” he said. “I've seen babies taken from women, and men and women who lived as husband and wife torn apart, without a thought. Do your best for them.”

“All right,” Damita said, suddenly resolved to do this thing well. “I will.”

Damita returned home exhausted. The entire month had been trying. She had struggled over her task of thinning out the slaves, and it had been more difficult than she could believe. She had discovered that she knew almost nothing about them or their personal lives, and now that she did, letting some go had been grim business. She had visited all of her friends, asking them to buy the slaves, and the task had been humiliating.

The rigors of the first month at the plantation weighed heavily on Damita. She herself had worked as she had never thought possible. When she wasn't out trying to get someone to buy the slaves, she was helping Yancy, because he always had something more for her to do. She once had had no idea of the enormity of work necessary to keep a plantation running, but she knew it now!

As she entered, she heard her mother's voice and called, “Mama, where are you?”

Elena stepped quickly into the foyer, her face anxious. “Damita, I'm so glad you're home. Yancy's been looking for you.”

“Do you know where he is?”

“He's at the blacksmith's shop,” Elena answered. She looked at her daughter. “I'm worried about you. Are you getting enough rest?”

Damita smiled and said, “Of course I am.” She left the house and walked to where the blacksmith worked. From a distance, she saw Yancy shoeing a horse. She stopped and watched. He was stripped to the waist and sweat glistened all over his body. She had never seen him like this. He was a strong man, and the years he had spent doing hard physical labor showed.

She walked into the shop. “Hello, Yancy.”

Yancy looked up and grinned. “You come to help me shoe horses?” He put the horse's hoof down, patted him, then picked up his shirt and put it on. “How did it go?”

“I managed to sell them all at last.”

“You've done a good job.”

“I've hated every minute of it.”

“I can imagine. You've got a good heart. Hard-hearted people wouldn't have thought a minute about it.”

Damita suddenly smiled. “You're paying me compliments. You must want something.”

“Just a drink of water. Come along, and tell me all about what you've been doing.”

The two walked over to the well, and he drew water from the bucket. Both drank from the dipper, and he listened as she described, with some pride, how she had placed the last four slaves that morning.

“Who bought them?”

“I went to Lewis. His family has a very large plantation. He was glad to take them off my hands, and for a good price, too.” She laughed. “I raised the figures you gave me.”

“You're getting to be a steely businesswoman.”

It was pleasant standing in the
sun, and now that the job of selling off the slaves was over, Damita felt relieved. She looked at Yancy and said suddenly, “I hate slavery. I found that out.”

“So do I. You know, Damita, it does something to a person to own a slave. Once you own one, you're saying that a man or a woman is no more than a horse or a dog. When you ‘own' another person, you put yourself in that position.”

“I never thought of it like that.”

“I've always thought slavery was a horrible mistake. We'll pay for it someday.”

“Some say that the South will pull away someday and become a separate nation.”

“The North will never let that happen. If you listen to—”

A young black woman suddenly interrupted: “Mr. Yancy, come quick!”

“What's wrong?”

“It's Mr. Napier—he's whippin' my daddy!”

Yancy's face darkened, and without a word, he ran toward the barn. Damita followed with the young girl. When they reached the far side, she saw a slave stretched out on the ground and Napier whipping him savagely. She saw the blood and the lash marks on his back, and it sickened her.