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George
George loosened the tight collar of his carriage driver's livery. As he watched the women approach, he found his eyes straying to the mistress's girl. The short young woman wore a dark dress, befitting her role as house servant, which contrasted with her honey-colored skin. His hands gripped the reins tighter as his thoughts turned to the night before. Moses mentioned he saw the maid sneaking from Missy's room this morning. If that snake hadn't been drunk, or the young woman so helpful, who knows what would have happened to the appealing woman. Not that he cared. She probably thought herself better than the people who worked outside of the big house.
"Here you go, Miss." Moses gently assisted young Mistress Hollings into the cushioned leather seat of the family's open phaeton. Her quiet servant stood nearby and waited for Moses' assistance. She wore a confused expression as the elderly servant led her to the front of the carriage and whispered, "It's not proper for you to sit with your mistress. You'll have to sit up here with the driver since there isn't a boot in this carriage."
"A boot? Why would a carriage need a shoe?" Her melodic voice rang in George's ears.
He chuckled as Moses explained, "A boot is not a shoe. It's a small seat where footmen sometimes sit in a larger carriage."
"Footman? Never mind. I'm sorry. I've never been out for a ride before." She peered up to where George sat and gasped. He couldn't resist doffing his felt hat as he stared into hazel-tinted eyes. She stumbled into Moses as she neared the small ladder leading to the high front seat. Her head tipped backward. She eyed the high steps and swallowed.
"Allow me to help, Miss." Moses' voice broke whatever trance she'd escaped into.
Taking the older man's weathered hand in her left one, she stretched her other arm toward a rung on the carriage's ladder. George reached down, his large hand engulfing her tiny one. He easily lifted her onto the seat next to him. A jolt of awareness coursed through him as he hesitantly let go of her hand. She stiffened beside him and looked away. Just as he thought, she didn't want to get dirt from the barn or from him on her, so she held herself aloof.
Moses laughed as she looked down from her perch. "Have a good day, Miss Early. I'm thinking you're gonna enjoy your first ride with our new driver." The patriarch saluted and winked. George nodded as he released the brake and gathered the reins in his gloved hands.
He began to whistle a spiritual about crossing the river. He needed to center his thoughts on something other than the stuck up little filly who sat beside him. Someday he was going to gallop across the Jordan into Canaan land and he didn't need anyone or anything holding him back. As his tune soared into the air, his seatmate seemed to relax. He glanced her way and noticed she mouthed the words about crossing over the Jordan to be with the Lord. Maybe she wasn't so above him after all.
"So Miss Early, this is your first ride." George couldn't resist a wink of his own as the young house servant suddenly tensed and nervously glanced his way. Her shy nod shook one of her braids loose from the simple calico bonnet she wore over her raven black hair. "Don't worry. I've been driving since I was ten years old. I've never met a horse that didn't like me. Just sit back and leave the driving to good old George."
"So you're old, are you? I wouldn't have guessed that you were more than a few days past twenty."
"Well, maybe I am and maybe I'm not. I have to be older than you are anyways. You look like a fresh faced little girl, to me." George could not resist a smile as she opened up to his conversation.
"I'll have you know that I'm seventeen years old, as near as I can tell. Besides, Missy says it's not nice to ask a lady her age." Early straightened her bonnet and pushed the wayward hair back into place.
"Do you believe everything that Missy tells you?" George heard the sarcasm in his voice and wondered if he had overstepped a boundary.
"Sure I do. She loves me and takes care of me." Early pressed her skirt with delicate hands and looked at the road ahead.
George ruefully shook his head. "That's because you do everything she tells you to do. Someday you'll do something wrong. Then things will change like they did for me."
She reached over to lay a comforting hand over George's arm and then snatched it away. "What do you mean by that?"
"My whole family worked with the horses on a plantation in Maryland. Then the master got a new foreman who forced other black people to act as spies. Seems they did not like my sense of humor. Now I will never see my family again." George tightened his hands on the reins as he resisted the urge to say more.
Silence met his reply before Early answered. "I've heard of such things but nothing like that ever happened to me. My mama was like a mother to Missy. When she passed away from malaria a few years ago, we both mourned her passing. Just like any daughters would have done."
Sorrow and a tinge of jealousy filled George's heart as he urged the horses to trot a little faster. Edging closer to Early, he spoke in a whisper. "One of these days I'm gonna hitch my horses to old Moses' chariot and take a ride up north."
"What are you talking about George? I didn't know Moses had any chariots back at our place." She turned her face and beautiful hazel eyes looked his way.
"Hush. You are such an innocent. I'm not talking about your Moses back there in the house. I'm talking about the Moses that's gonna take us to the Promised Land. At least she did that back in Maryland. I can only hope there's someone like her here in Alabama."
"I thought Jesus would take us to the Promised Land, not Moses."
"Yeah, maybe He can or maybe He can't do that, but I'm talking about another Moses, one that traveled around Maryland. I heard there could be someone like her around here. There was a young man from Ohio who came to the big wedding. He hinted that there might be a Moses coming with the springtime."
"Now you've really got me confused. How can Moses be a woman?" Early's frustrated sigh reached back to Missy as the carriage slowed to take a turn toward town.
"Hello you two," Missy called out from behind them. "Are you having a good conversation up there?"
"We were just talking about—ouch."
George gave Early a swift knee jab as he took over the conversation. "Beg your pardon, Miss, but did you notice a herd of deer over there in the edge of the forest?" He pointed to a glade of trees.
Missy and Early both searched for the deer but found none where he pointed. When Early turned to George with a puzzled look on her face, he frowned and held a finger to pursed lips. Missy just giggled and raised questioning eyebrows before she lowered her focus to her journal, where she scratched pencil marks. Early silently faced forward. George drew in a tight breath and hoped that he had not revealed too much to the woman, who both intrigued and scared him to death.
Early
The busyness of the crowded town's streets both scared and amazed Early as they drove down the main avenue edged with brick and white clapboard homes and storefronts. Only the dust from the road kept Early from gaping at the stores and throngs of people. A rainbow of wide, colorful skirts contrasted with the dark hues of men's coats and trousers, as townspeople greeted her mistress.
Missy waved to several and then clapped her hands. "Driver, please stop here. I want to visit the milliner's for a moment. I just saw the most beautiful hat in the window." She threw herself to the edge of her seat and pointed to a nearby shop. Early watched as George slowed the horses and pulled to the side of the street. He tied the reins off and pulled the brake lever in place. As he performed each movement, he explained his actions to Early.
Her heart beat an irregular rhythm when he easily jumped off the side of the carriage. Then he bowed before Missy, offering assistance as she stepped down. The young mistress shaded her eyes and looked up.
"Miss Early, will you be coming in with me or staying here with your new friend?"
Early grinned at Missy's friendly comment and couldn't resist a tease of her own. "Oh Missy, do you think I need to replace my bonnet with something better?"
Several passing faces, both white and brown, stopped to stare at the young slave and her mistress. George quickly stepped into the line of sight between the two young women. "Begging your pardon, Miss, I will take care of your girl while you look for a new hat."
Missy laughed and flounced toward the merchant. Anger grew like a flame in Early's chest. She tried to pray for a calm spirit. It didn't help. Fire shot through her as she hissed, "How dare you order me around like that, you—you—man."
His lips flattened as he leaned close and whispered a response that shook her world. "You're a slave. You can't talk to your mistress that way in public. It will get you both in big trouble if you're not careful."
"But Missy and I are like sisters. It's not like that at all. We were raised together."
"Didn't you see those people on the street? They were all surprised. It will be a miracle if none of them report you to the master." Worry lines wrinkled his brow.
"I believe in miracles, George, so I'm going to trust in God to take care of me." Early straightened her backbone and scooted to the far end of the short carriage bench.
"I hope you are right because it will be a miracle if nothing happens. Now you open up your ears and listen to me. While we're in town you better be as quiet as a mouse."
"Mice aren't that quiet."
George rubbed his hand across his face before continuing. "Can you just listen? Don't say anything else that will draw attention to you or Missy. Maybe we'll get out of this without too much trouble."
Her defiant hazel eyes met pleading cinnamon ones and for a moment, there seemed to be a deep connection, causing Early to shudder and then wearily drop her attention to her hands. She gave a reluctant nod. George's shoulders relaxed and he leaned closer. His softened voice filled Early's ears as he told about each building in the block where their carriage stood.
"See that blacksmith shop over there? It's owned by a free man of color."
"Really?" Her jaw dropped open in awe as she contemplated the idea of someone of color living in freedom. "How is that possible?"
"Some masters allow their people to buy freedom." He brushed a fly away from his arm and stared up at the blue sky.
"I have never heard of a person of our race owning property. Tell me more of your tales." She shook her head in disbelief.
George continued to relate stories of his adventures in the place where he had lived as a child. He straightened with pride when he talked about some of the prize race horses he helped train for his former master. When he related the story of how his father had made him, as a youngster of twelve years of age, responsible for a pair of matched chestnut horses, his shoulders slumped. Emotion crackled its way into his voice as he told her how much he missed his family and the horses he cared for during his youth.
All too soon, Missy emerged from the milliner's shop carrying two hat cases. George sprang to her aid with a gentle manner and forced smile.
"I hope you don't mind, Early. I did see the perfect new bonnet for you." Missy nodded to one of the round boxes as she settled her skirts into place.
Early raised her eyebrows and gave George an 'I told you so' look. He briefly shook his head and frowned. After climbing back to the high seat, his eyes focused on something in the distance. His frown deepened. Her grin sagged as she turned to see what distraction had caught his attention.
George
George tensed. Anger twisted his gut when he noticed a sweat-flecked horse carrying a familiar rider, galloping down the road at a neck-breaking speed. As the quivering horse drew closer, the whites of its eyes revealed fear. The urge to teach the reckless rider a thing or two coursed into his fists. If only...
"Greetings, sister. Looks like you have a fine set of escorts today." Sidney's bloodshot eyes roamed over Early, who now huddled against George on the high seat. He forced his fists to relax and hoped she would feel safe.
Missy's demeanor changed swiftly in reaction to the arrival of the lanky young man whose breath still reeked of a night spent with more than one bottle of strong spirits. "I'm your stepsister, and I will not have you looking at Early that way."
"The last time I checked we live in a free country, unless you're a slave like those two."
Sidney's sneering laughter reignited George's anger but he held his thoughts to himself, choosing to look down at the horses. The carriage team and the abused mare all nervously pranced in reaction to Sidney's loud proclamations. Past consequences told him fighting back was not worth it. Someday that would change and he concentrated on thinking of the day he would catch a freedom train headed for the North. Forcing himself to breathe evenly seemed to have the desired effect on the petite shaking female leaning into his side, as she drew in a lung full of air.
"Well she's my slave and you will have nothing to do with her."
Early's body jerked beside him as she reacted to Missy's harshly spoken words. He reached for her hand and gave a quick squeeze. Her quiet tears began to flow in earnest as Sidney focused his counterattack on Missy.
"Maybe she is for now, but one of these days I'll be master of Holly Plantation and then we'll see what happens." Sidney's mare sidestepped and pawed the ground as her rider jerked the reins tight.
"Not if I can help it. I'll be talking this over with my father when he gets home. We'll see how he reacts to last night's events." Missy glared at her stepbrother and then turned her face away. "Driver, let's head for home. I think we're done here."
"We'll see about that, little sister." Wheeling his steed toward a nearby tavern, Sidney gave the horse's rump a sharp lash with the whip and nearly unseated himself as the animal reared in pain. "Behave, you stupid animal. You better obey me or I'll be trading you off like an unruly slave."
As the dust cleared, George gently squeezed Early's trembling forearm before he released the brake and headed the carriage for home. Silence engulfed the three young people, each reflecting on their own reaction to the scene that had played out in the town.
George shook his head and muttered, "I hope things don't get worse."