Chapter One

Hairs rose on Early's arms. Something wasn't right. She paused in her ascent up the stairs to the plantation home's fourth floor cupola. Floorboards squeaked from the stairs below. The plantation home often creaked like an old man's joints when the weather changed, but she couldn't shake the feeling that tonight's groans were different. Another sound echoed in the stairwell. Did someone clear their throat? Warm air rose from the spacious rooms below, reminding her to resume her climb. Moisture broke out on her forehead.

Fear of the new mistress’s hand spurred Early onward to her task. Once she opened the high cupola windows, the heat below would flow out, bringing cooling relief, hopefully before the family woke up in discomfort. Five more steps put her feet on the high landing surrounded by windows.

Swoosh. A breeze rushed out through the open portal. Early pushed the heavy window frame higher and moaned. One down. Three more to go. If only the feeling that someone watched her would go away. Shadows flickered across the landing as a gentle wind blew through the live oaks standing in silhouette against a full moon. Spanish moss wavered in the breeze, adding to her apprehension. Early stretched her back and shook off her fear. She had a job to do. If she did not open all the ventilating windows soon, the whole household would blame her, the slave girl who made them too warm during this early spring night. Push—another window. Pull—another window.

An acrid smell like rotten apples filtered up from below, as the sound of glass from a breaking container tinkled down the curved stairway. Early peered over the mahogany railing and spotted her follower. He kicked his broken bottle to the side and grinned upwards. His face glowed with an eerie hue in the filtered moonlight.

"Hello my darlin', I've been lookin' for ya. I was gonna offer you a swig o' my drink but it looks like I dropped it." Master Hollings' new stepson, Sidney cackled as he stood in her only path to relative freedom.

He was two flights down. There was no way back to the servant's room under the kitchen. Early held back her panic with a clinched jaw and fled one floor down. She hoped against hope that Missy's door would be open.

Early's moist hands fought for a firm grip on the doorknob. She swiped her hands on her dress and grabbed the knob again. Please, Heavenly Father. She tightened her hands and wrenched hard to the left. The door unlatched with a loud snap that rang in her ears. Thank You, Lord.

Faltering footsteps wove up the stairs as she clicked the door closed. Her hands shook. She fumbled for the key, which should be located in the inner keyhole. Good, it was there, the key to her safety. Early blew out a deep breath when locking pins clattered into place.

"What's going on here?" Her entrance roused young Mistress Hollings, who sat up in the high four-poster bed. Partial darkness and the mosquito netting surrounding the bed softened the dismayed look on Missy's face.

"Hide me, Missy. Please. I can't be found by that terrible man." Early trembled at her audacity, praying her life-long companion would overlook her disobedience. Would Missy's loyalty to her new mother take precedence over the friendship of the child whose mother had nursed them both? Would her young mistress heed her early morning call for help?

Missy adjusted the mobcap that held her ringlets in tight curls, waiting to be set free in the day to come. "Did you say something Early? What are you doing here in the middle of the night?" She laughed and added, "Perhaps I should have Papa flog you for interrupting my sound sleep."

The familiar teased threat filled Early with fear. She gaped in silence at her childhood companion. Was Missy joking, as she had when they where children, or did she offer a true threat? Life was different since Master Hollings had added a new wife and son to the household. Perhaps the relationship between the two young women would become another unwelcome casualty.

Missy parted her netted curtain and stepped onto the stool beside her bed. Early bowed her head as waves of terror filled her heart. "Early, are you all right?" The young mistress pulled a lacy handkerchief from her bedside table and dabbed it on her servant's tear-streaked face. "You know I'd never have you flogged, but you better tell me what is wrong."

Early swallowed, fighting the bile climbing up her throat as she swiped the pristine hankie across her cheeks. "I need your help, Missy. I'm scared he's going to hurt me. More scared than I've ever been in my life."

"Why should you be scared? I'm not going to let anyone hurt you. I've made Papa promise that you will always be mine. That's never going to change if I can help it."

Early fought against rising anger at the reminder of her position as a slave, but right now she needed help. "What if you can't protect me? I don't think I'm safe in this house anymore. That man tried to come after me tonight."

Boom. Something crashed against the door to Missy's room. A muttered curse filtered through the door, followed by an out of tune chorus about a 'dark lass, with curling hair.' "Open the door, you pretty young thing. You can't hide from me forever."

Missy's gasped, "Sidney?" was answered by a terrified nod. Missy placed her hands on Early's shoulders. "Don't you worry, honey. Just wait until Papa and Mother Amanda get back from their trip. Amanda and strong drink have spoiled Sidney. I'll see that he answers to Papa."

A loud pounding at Missy's door sent both young women into each other's arms. The knob rattled but refused to give. Early gave thanks to the Lord that she had taken the time to turn the key.

"Come out from there, woman. I'm the new master of this house and I'll do what I want." A loud belch echoed in the hallway, followed by another thump against the door. The raucous tune rang through the solid barrier once more. Missy and Early listened in horror until the song faded into a loud snore.

Tension fell from Early's shoulders like a load of sopping wet bed linens. The rumbling snorts grew louder and settled into a restless pattern of snores. Sidney's rampage was over for the night but he still blocked any exit from the room. A drunken doorstop full of trouble...

"Do you want me to go, Missy?" Another wave of shivers shook Early as she peered at her mistress.

"You won't be able to get around that sleeping nuisance outside the door. Use the lounge on the balcony tonight. The fresh air will do you good." Missy's hug filled Early with warmth.

They jumped away from each other as different sounds arose. Low-pitched voices rumbled on the other side of the door. The two women crept closer to the noise. Missy placed her ear against the door to listen. Early slowly pulled the big key from its hole and peeked through to see what was happening. Two servants stood outside the door.

The ever-present Moses, head household slave and butler for the family, stood hunched over the sleeping stepson's form. She did not recognize the other man. As she watched him help the aging Moses pick up Sidney's drooping body, she couldn't help but admire the muscles that bulged from underneath his cotton shirt. Cinnamon-colored eyes seemed to pierce right through the keyhole when the brawny man turned her way. He shook his head and stared at the door with a sad expression. The invisible contact made her jump back from the door. Confusion shot through her as she placed a hand on her pounding heart.

"What's the matter, Early? What's going on now?" Missy quickly took her place at the peep hole. "Oh my... So who scares you more, my stepbrother or our new carriage driver?"

"Begging your pardon, Missy, but that's not funny considering what happened tonight." Early leaned against the door frame and glared at her mistress. Missy's caring eyes looked back. Confidence in the relationship with her old friend flowed into Early's wavering thoughts like a calming breeze.

"You're right. I'll see what Papa can do about the situation when he returns. Until this is resolved, you can stay here with me. The balcony lounge chaise is waiting for you." Missy held out the Dresden Plate quilt that usually lay folded across the end of her bed.

"Thank you, Missy." Early draped the patterned quilt across her shoulders and moved toward the balcony. She pushed up the first section of windowpanes that had been lowered earlier during the late evening. Mild night air filled her lungs. It only took a few more seconds to unlatch the jib doorway at the bottom of the window, which opened up a path to the small balcony hovering over the garden below.

A short while later, Missy’s deep breathing from inside the house reached Early's ears as she settled on the cushioned wicker lounge chair. Normally the night sounds of another sleeping human didn’t affect her. Heaven knew that old Nellie's snores shook the rafters in the cellar room where they slept. The old woman's rumbles hadn't ceased tonight when Early awakened to make her trip up the stairs. Even though warmth filled the air, she shivered and sank into the lounge, wrapping the quilt around her shoulders.

Life had been so much simpler before Sidney’s arrival. It was almost as if she and Missy were real sisters, except for the chores. Nevertheless, that was the way things had always been. This was the life she knew, and before recent events most days had been fairly pleasant. Sure, there were a few times, as a child, when she felt jealous of her own mother's attention to the master's young daughter. Mama had explained that she loved Early best. The answer had been good enough for the young girl who knew no other life.

Tonight she questioned everything she had known. Was she really safe? Confusion over her real relationship to the young woman snoozing in the high-netted bed just inside the large plantation home left questions in her mind. Would she survive if the master or his new wife removed her from the prized maid position and made her work in the fields? She'd encountered a few field hands who had mocked her with words saying she wouldn't last a day working cotton.

She gazed at the star-filled sky and wondered if the tales were true about following the drinking gourd to Canaan Land. She knew in her heart that someday, when she breathed her last earthly breath, her Heavenly Father would carry her off to Canaan. She'd heard talk that there was a Canaan here in this world. Some people called it Canada.

According to Master Hollings, no one would ever want to live in Canada. Tales of frozen barren land where crops would not grow made her think she never wanted to go there. However, would it be worth it if she didn't have to deal with Sidney? Even more important, would it be worth going there if it involved traveling with a handsome cinnamon-eyed man riding a charging stallion? Drifting into a sleep fraught with nightmares and hopes, Early tossed and turned before finally falling into an exhausted slumber.

Missy controlled her breathing, making it as even as the cooling breeze flowing in the window. Once she heard Early's breath slow into a rhythmic pattern on the balcony, she allowed her anger to churn like waves in a storm. Clutching her pillow close to her chest, she stifled a frustrated cry of disgust. When Sidney moved to Holly Plantation after Papa’s marriage, her repulsion had fought with jealousy. Papa seemed blind to the young man’s imperfections, which revealed themselves in an ugly way tonight with his threats toward Early. She'd endured a few of his leering gazes herself, but so far he hadn't chased her like he did with her maid.

She flopped to her other side and huffed out a breath that blew the mosquito netting in a ghostly wave. Her desire to do something warred with the fact that she had no power to free Early, or any other slaves for that matter. Papa had started hinting he needed a male heir, saying Missy would find her place on another plantation with an influential owner. No man on neighboring plantations appealed to her. The only male who even stirred her heart in the least had only been passing through the south. Chances were she would never see him again. Papa certainly would never approve her interest in a northern man. Instead, her father recently dared to suggest Sidney as a suitor. Even before tonight she had no use for the disgusting man, whom Papa said could provide for her every need.

Material possessions filled her room, all supplied by the labor of others. She resisted the temptation to get up and shred her hooped skirts and fancy baubles into rags before the sun rose. Destroying them would only cause her doting papa to provide more goods, at the expense of slave labor. She rolled out of the bed and tiptoed to her desk. Feeling the carved surface beneath her hands, she popped open a hidden drawer filled with treasures. Her fingers carefully traced smooth stones from a broken necklace, bird feathers, her mother's tattered Bible, and the book her Ohio uncle's nephew had quietly slipped into her possession at the wedding. The warning to keep it hidden from prying eyes had sent a tingle down her spine as their hands touched and she'd looked into his intense blue eyes. She carried the handsome young man's treasured book to her bed and tucked it under her pillow. Maybe it was time to further unravel the volume's mysteries, as soon as morning light arrived. He'd asked her to keep it hidden, with a warning. Having the book in her possession would cause trouble if someone found it.

Tangled covers immobilized her body as the night dragged on like a turtle. Sleep didn't come. She pulled the book from beneath her feather pillow and fingered the tattered pages. A paper fell from the tome. She knew without looking that the parchment offered a name, an address, and a dare to use her gift of poetry in the fight for freedom. Samuel, the nephew of her Aunt Mary Etta's husband had placed it there with his challenge.

He'd come to represent their aunt's family at Papa's wedding to Amanda. His handsome eyes had followed Missy from across the room and connected with hers for a moment before he shook his head and looked away. His reaction had seemed strange since most young men wanted to come closer and introduce themselves to any available young women. Her confusion rose like a twisted vine when Samuel stared in abhorrence and pity at Moses and Early when Sidney complained to them about their service. Samuel's disgusted gaze had followed the two servants as they carried trays of refreshments around the parlor for the wedding guests to enjoy. Missy confronted him and discovered his distaste for slavery.

When she indicated her own dislike and inability to change things, she discovered Samuel worked for an anti-slavery newspaper. They had moved their conversation to a quiet corner, where he admitted to enjoying the poetry she recited at the wedding. He'd shared that he sometimes published poetry in his newspaper. His interest touched something deep inside her soul and the memory lingered long after he left.

Later that same evening when they danced at the wedding reception, he had challenged her to write a poem for his paper. Did she dare? She’d heard of pen names. That might be a safe way to express her thoughts and not face Papa's wrath. Did she have the strength to defy her own flesh and blood? Doubt and defiance fought a battle in her mind.

Papa had been angry the next morning when he discovered Samuel whispering with some of the slaves. The young man departed soon afterwards with Papa's glare following him. His parting salutation had been a wave when he spotted her standing on the front porch. Her gaze had followed him as his horse carried him down the lane and away from Holly Plantation.

She pulled his book close to her chest and held it there until she replaced it securely under her pillow. Rereading it in the morning might provide her with some much needed inspiration. She’d always enjoyed writing. Papa had even given her a thick journal and the special Thoreau pencils as part of the wedding festivities. Not long after the young man left, she'd drawn a sketch of Samuel, using the softest pencil from the set. She also wrote a short poem about a dark-haired cavalier with shining blue eyes. The gleam in his eyes had challenged her to use her writing skill in a way she'd never thought of before. Perhaps her words could find wings like those in his well-worn volume. Maybe she could do more than compose love songs in the nearly new journal.

HOURS LATER, MISSY untangled the light counterpane that encased her body after the endless night of tossing and turning. Thankfulness for a safe night warred with anger. Everything had changed since the wedding. Her father seemed distant and blindly devoted to his new wife and Sidney. How could he not see that Sidney posed a danger to Early and his own daughter? She clamped her eyes closed as she heard sounds coming from the balcony. The soft padding of Early's feet and click of a closing door caused Missy to crack open her weighted eyelids. Even her relationship with Early had changed. Playmate, companion, confidant and now, thanks to stepmother Amanda, recognition as a true slave...

She pulled the book from under her pillow and studied several pages that were marked with a strand of embroidery thread. Bright beams of morning sunlight highlighted words that opened her eyes to the horrors most people in slavery endured. Maybe her words could make a difference, like those in the book. Sliding out of the tall bed, Missy shuffled her way across the carpeted floor and moved the journal, a quill, and a bottle of ink into position on the pulled down secretary desk. She opened the journal to her sketch of the handsome man who smiled back at her. Courage filled her heart as she imagined him nodding his head in approval. Flipping to a blank sheet of paper, she dipped the nib of her feathered pen into berry-colored ink and paused above the page. A drop of ink fell to the white surface. She blotted it up. Inspiration hit.

After finishing her poem, Missy penned the events of the night before into her leatherbound journal, which her papa had given her. She felt a slight twinge of betrayal, knowing she used Papa's gift to record the horrors of slavery. He had traveled to Amanda's hometown several times before the marriage and he'd picked up the journal on his final trip there. More poem ideas to share with her aunt's nephew swirled through her head. She turned to a new page in the journal and poured out her heart with ink. She switched to a number two pencil when her ink supply diminished. She only took a break for a few moments when Early brought a breakfast tray. The food grew cold as she continued writing.

A commotion outside her open window broke into her jottings. She scurried to peer out and watched several house servants carry in packages.

"Welcome home Papa!" She leaned out the window and started to say more, but Amanda frowned and shook her head as she stepped from the carriage. Her stepmother disappeared into the house while Papa talked to the new groomsman.

The horse tender bowed his head and turned to the team. She watched as the younger man bent over and lifted the hoof on one of Papa's matched bays. He patted the mare's rump and assisted an older man as they led the carriage and team toward the barn. Too bad Early wasn't around to spy on the new man. At least Papa was home. Maybe she could convince him to see Sidney's weakness for women and wine.

A tap on the door brought Missy's thoughts to a halt when she heard her stepmother's voice. "May I come in Melissa?"

"One moment, ma'am." Missy stepped closer to the desk and closed it. She pulled a wrapper around her nightclothes before she invited her stepmother to enter.

"We picked up the post on our way through town. It seems you have a letter from your aunt." The chill in Amanda's voice froze Missy's thoughts as she wondered if Uncle's nephew Samuel had dared to write through their mutual aunt. The broken seal spoke of prying eyes.

Aunt 'Tilda's name and address on the envelope brought a sigh of relief. Her aunt from northern Alabama had visited when Missy was smaller, bringing joy and entertaining stories of hill country life.

"It seems we are having company soon. I will need your slave girl to leave your side for a while and help with the preparations."

Where had her gumption gone? She swallowed and placed her hands on her hips. "But not today, I have errands to run and I need Early to attend me."

"You spoil the girl. That needs to change, along with your manners. Yelling out the window does not befit the way a young lady of your standing should behave. Your father and I will be making some adjustments after we get back from our trip to my sister's plantation. We're leaving again later today, but know that your life, and your maid's, will be different when we get back." Amanda's lips flattened as she floated out of the room with her head held high.

Winston County (formerly Hancock,) Alabama

February 27, 1858

Dearest Melissa,

You may not remember me well, but I am your father's sister and your aunt. I think when I last saw you, you were but a tot. Your Papa has written me many good things about you, including the fact that you are going by the name Missy, when you were given the beautiful birth name Melissa. Wear your name proudly, my dear, it was a gift from your loving mother. She was a sweet soul, may she rest in God’s peace.

I must apologize for not making the trip to witness the matrimonial vows your father Arthur spoke to your stepmother Amanda. However, your Aunt Mary Etta has informed me of the details through a letter she wrote, after her husband's nephew returned to her beloved Ohio. You seem to have made a lasting impression on the young man.

She had other news which I will share with you when I do manage to make a visit down your way. I plan to be there within the next month. I will send a message to your Papa through the telegraph operators once I finalize my business here in Winston County.

I would welcome the chance to take you on a little carriage ride adventure, your father permitting. It is high time you saw a bit of the world outside of your sheltered life at the plantation. I am not an advocate of slavery but I beg you to consider bringing along your personal servant. My fingers are getting a little arthritic these days and I fear I could never do the corsets and buttons of a young woman justice. I much prefer a simpler dress style which has proven to be helpful as the widow of a hill country farmer. Your father wrote that you have a deep attachment to the girl. I suppose I will indeed have to make a concession to having you bring along one bound in slavery, if your father agrees to let you travel.

Yours Truly,

Aunt Matilda Hollings McCallum

Missy opened the desk and pulled some writing paper from a stack provided for correspondence. Much to her delight, she discovered another container of ink. Perfect. She copied her best poems onto the fresh paper and after they dried, folded them into an envelope. It was time she wrote a letter of her own.

Dear Samuel Woodson,

Please pardon my boldness but I have decided to act upon your challenge. At my Papa's wedding you dared me to make a difference. I am seeing more evidence of the cruelty around me and will attempt to send you some words that may help you with the cause against those evils. In some ways I fear for my own well being, so I request that you publish my works anonymously. I do not have your courage to stand boldly on my own. Because of that, I ask that you do not respond to me about this matter since my private letters have shown evidence of tampering by others. I have faith that you will only use articles which are appropriate and helpful. In today's letter, please find several pieces for your consideration, knowing that I understand I will not be hearing from you regarding this matter.

Sincerely,

Melissa Hollings

Missy blew the letter's ink dry, not daring to blot it and leave any impression of her correspondence. Her fingers itched to write more. She retrieved one of her earlier poems and turned the page over. Light from her window brightened the paper; a streak of light inspired her to dip the pen in dark ink. The scratch of each pen stroke brought satisfaction and peace along with an element of daring as she broke from standard poetic forms.

Darkness and Light

Raised in the darkness of ignorance, I saw no other way.

Like scripture I began to see the cloudy reflection in the eyes of those around me.

Eyes half shuttered by obedience yet seeking something more:

Freedom, hope, a life beyond what we force upon them.

Shards of light in my darkened world until I'm made to see,

The life we live keeps us from being free.

The messenger who came to me has pierced my clouded eyes

And opened up a ray of light.

What can I do to have my say?

I know no other way of life,

A child whose roots are in the south, trained in poetry.

To paint and play and let them wait on me.

I look around. I know it's wrong. The image now is clear.

I cannot march against my world but I can write a song.

A song of words, much like a sword, inspiring acts I dare not do,

Stirring those who have the strength to take my place instead.

I'll gird their armor on with ink, with feathered slash and stab.

A shaft of light in our dark world to show our ways must change,

I will rearrange the world I know.

Lord, help me share my feelings and the things I see each day.

Please let these words give someone strength and hope of freedom's light.

She paused and heard Amanda's bossy voice filter up the stairs. She'd managed to commandeer some of Early's time, regardless of Missy's wishes. The sound of a slap followed a tirade and she flinched at her maid's cry. Anger coursed into her fingers. She lifted her feather and then dropped it into the ink as another thought filtered through her mind.

Missy smiled with satisfaction as she sealed the envelope and tucked it into her reticule. The trip to town would serve more than one purpose today. Feeling a little guilty, she called Early to help her get ready for the day. There was no way she could get into her corset without help.

Early tugged on Missy's corset strings, which cinched an already narrow waist. She heard her mistress gasp.

"Ouch, I think this is tight enough. So—I'm thinking—umph—that while Sidney is indisposed, it might be a good time for me to take a carriage ride to town."

Early knotted the corset strings. The tightness in her chest pinched worse than her mistress's secured waist. Terror raced through her thoughts. She would be without Missy's protection. She crossed her arms to keep from shaking. "I'm sure you would enjoy the ride, but if you don’t mind, may I stay locked up in your room or even better hide me in our old playroom in the cellar."

"I certainly do mind. I want you to come with me today. I don't think you have to worry about my stepbrother this morning. He is sure to be asleep after his rampage last night." Missy raised her hands as Early draped a fresh dress over her head and spread it over ruffled petticoats. “I got a letter from Aunt ‘Tilda this morning and I want to get something new to wear while she visits. She even hinted about taking us on an extended trip in a carriage.”

"But Missy, I don't think I've ever been out in the carriage before. Mama and I lived in the room under the kitchen for as long as she was alive. Now it's me and Nellie down there. I've never been any further than some of the quarters down past the barn. I don't think I'd know what to do in a carriage." Nor would she know what to do if a certain young man was working with the horses.

"Sure you would, Early. You just have to sit there and enjoy the ride. You might even see something you like." Missy's mischievous grin warned Early that her thoughts were on more than just magnolia trees and spring blossoms.

Visions of the handsome new carriage driver's muscular body and warm eyes danced through Early's mind as she fumbled with the buttons of her mistress's dress. "It might be nice to see the countryside, and other things."

"That's what I thought. Now, let's finish up here and get ready for a day in town. It's high time I showed you about life outside this plantation." Missy's expression seemed different as she peered deeply into Early's eyes.

Early glanced down, a strange feeling coursed through her chest. Her fingers fumbled as she huddled at Missy's feet, hooking the fasteners on kid leather boots. Worried thoughts of Missy's new stepbrother marched across her mind, regardless of her mistress's assurances. This trip could be wonderful or it could turn into a terrible disaster.