Last Chance, Nebraska
August 1870
“Last Chance! Last Chance coming up!”
The stagecoach pulled up in front of the depot, and the driver alighted. He opened the door and then went about the back to unload the luggage.
Permelia waited for Horace to step out before he took her hand and assisted her out. She stretched her limbs after the long drive, thankful that their journey was over.
“Are you all right, Butterscotch?” His eyes roved over her face, making sure that she was all right.”
“I’m fine,” she assured him, patting his arms.
Still he checked and she waited until whatever he saw in her face satisfied him. He stretched out a hand and rubbed her cheek, and then all was well.
“Mama, can we come out?”
“C’mon, Purity and Altar.”
Her daughters, twelve and ten years old respectively, hopped out of the coach and started to run around. Their pigtails bounced on their backs as they ran. She tried to catch them, but they had spent most of the time cooped up in the stagecoach so what did she expect?
“Can I come out, too Auntie?” a timid voice called out.
“Temple, you can come out.”
Her nephew peeked his head out of the door, his blond hair catching the sunlight. He looked around as if he expected the buildings to fall on him at any moment. “Are you sure?”
“Come.” She bent and wrapped her arms around him. The trembling that had overtaken him stopped and he burrowed his head into her neck. “Temple, everything’s going to be all right. I won’t leave you.”
“Promise, Auntie Perry?”
“Yes.” She pulled back and kissed him on his cheeks. “I promise.”
“C’mon, Temple.” Horace clapped his hand on the boy’s shoulder. “I need help with the luggage.”
Temple nodded eagerly as he followed his uncle around the back.
Permelia stood up, staring at her family. Altar sat on a post, twirling a finger around a braid as she read a book. Purity had gone across the street and tried to climb a fence post. Lord, that child was so stubborn.
Thirteen years ago, she married Horace by simply jumping the broom after the preacher said some words over them. As a wedding gift to them, Lydia and Leonidas gave the carriage house to them for living quarters and they stayed there until they left.
Six years and two children later, the War began, as Emma Lee had predicted. Four years of the deadly battles. Emancipation arrived, doing for all slaves what Leonidas had already done for his own. Most of the hands stayed as there wasn’t much else they knew how to do.
Leonidas had gone to fight. Ira had gone as well, but he deserted less than a year later. The last anyone had heard of him, he’d gone out West, joining a gang of outlaws. By that time, Leonidas and Emma Lee had disowned their brother.
When Leonidas’s body was brought back before the War ended, her sister’s soul died with him. For a year, Lydia tried to have enough will to survive without him but it wasn’t enough.
One day, Permelia found Lydia above her, wearing brown socks.
Temple staring at her lifeless figure above him.
Permelia became the owner of Sage and a mother to Temple.
Horace had gone to Great Britain twice, at Alistair’s request, and shared his life story with groups of abolitionists. After the War, he joined local Negro political committees and became a voice in state politics.
But the hatred of the deposed white almost came at too high a price. A group of vigilantes had burned down the carriage house. They hadn’t been inside, but it was enough for Horace to step down from his political aspirations.
His family wasn’t worth the price to pay.
After Emancipation, many left to seek their own fortunes. Permelia decided to sell the plantation and the amount she received from it, while lower than what a white seller would have received, was still enough to fatten their pockets and give them the opportunity to move out West.
“Butterscotch, are you coming or are you just going to stand there, making Nature envious?”
She laughed and shook her head. “Oh, Horace.”
“I’ve found the gentleman who is willing to take us to our new home.”
Permelia grinned. “That’s wonderful.”
“I didn’t want to tell you until we got here but I’ve a surprise for you.”
“Horace, you give me too much. I don’t need anything but you.”
His black eyes darkened. “I’m going to have to make you prove that later tonight.”
She blushed.
He grinned at her discomfiture, and then reached inside his jacket and handed her a letter.
“Read it.”
Making sure the children were behaving somewhat, she opened the letter and read the contents, her eyes watering as she got to the end.
“They’re going to publish your book! Oh Horace, I’m so happy for you.”
She jumped into his arms and commenced to kissing every inch of his face. He laughed. “Butterscotch, it’s not fair to tempt me where so many can see.” Nevertheless, he gripped her head and kissed her soundly until she moaned and pressed herself against him.
He drew back and his black eyes promised more for later.
“Did you see the title?”
“I admit, I only saw the advancement!”
“I did too, at first. But read it.”
Reluctantly drawing her arms from him, she read the contract once again. Her eyes filled up with tears once again at the words blazoned before her eyes.
“I love you. I love you so much.”
She kissed him with all that was within her. The contract fell from her nerveless fingers and the sunlight shone on the title.
“The Butterscotch Bride, Or the Narrative of a Beast Who Was Tamed by a Sweet.”
THE END