first-hand.”
“I don’t live on the comfortable ranch that she does. I’ve spent my time there on a military base outside of St. Louis. It’s pretty stark living conditions, even for the married couples. And the base is set on a bluff overlooking the Missouri River, so it’s frightfully cold and windy in winter. But the true joy of being in the west comes when I get to leave the post, and ride out into the surrounding vast land. When I’m not looking over my shoulder for Indians, I stare in awe at the scenery. It’s breathtakingly beautiful.”
“Do you prefer it to Georgia?”
David fingered his hat as he pondered his answer. “I think I do. That’s what is making my decision about my future path so hard. I know I should return home to Savannah and ease my father’s burden of running the plantation. Yet I love my life in the west, even in the bleak and cold housing of the fort. It’s a difficult decision.”
“Duty to family or duty to country? Yes, I can see your dilemma.” Heather contemplated his situation and replied, “Yet if you were to free all your slaves and sell the plantation, your parents would be set financially for the rest of their lives, and you would be free to pursue your love of the military life, right?”
David smiled across the room. “You make it sound so simple. If I had no ties to the land in Georgia, I’d say your suggestion had merit. However, the land has been in our family for generations, and I can’t just sell it off. My forefathers are buried on that land. It’s where my roots are. I’d love for you to see it.”
Heather nervously wove her fingers into the folds of her dress. “Maybe, one day. But for now, why don’t you describe it to me? I’ll close my eyes and you paint a picture that I can visualize.”
David rose to his feet and paced the room as he talked. His hands sliced through the air as he began to describe his homestead. “Imagine a big white house sitting high on a hill. It’s built from stone but whitewashed to reflect the rays of the hot sun. At the front of the house are eight huge white pillars that extend all the way across, with a wide porch where we sit in the afternoon. The driveway leading up to the home is white as well, made from crushed oyster shells. On either side of the drive are magnolia trees, which bloom in the early spring. When the blooms drop, it’s like pink rain falling. There are fields of crops extending for hundreds of acres. We grow cotton and tobacco, and rotate them every couple of years, so as not to burn out the soil. The darkies like to sing as they labor, and their voices make a most melodious sound in the afternoon sun. It’s a good life.”
“I can almost see it,” Heather said softly while her eyes were still shut. “Where do the slaves live?”
“In shanties, which are tucked behind the stables. The shanties are usually a one-room house with a loft for sleeping. They are adequate and comfortable.”
“Sort of like living on a military base out west?” Heather’s eyes popped open and honed in on the pacing man.
He turned to face her. Then, he sat down beside her on the narrow loveseat, and took one of her hands in his. “Now that you mention it, I suppose it is like living on a military base. Although it gets mighty cold in Missouri, unlike the hot conditions in Georgia. I do envy the married officers at the fort, who have someone to help warm their beds at night.”
David boldly leaned in toward Heather. She sat, entranced, as his lips came closer to hers, until they were just a hair’s breath away.
“I thought you might be needing your tea refreshed, Miss Heather,” Colleen bustled into the room pushing a teacart. Heather and David broke apart before she looked up, but their hands were still intertwined. Colleen smiled as she placed the cart in the room and prepared to remove the old one. “Shall I pour fresh cups for the pair of you?”
“No, Colleen, that’s fine. I’ll handle the
“I don’t live on the comfortable ranch that she does. I’ve spent my time there on a military base outside of St. Louis. It’s pretty stark living conditions, even for the married couples. And the base is set on a bluff overlooking the Missouri River, so it’s frightfully cold and windy in winter. But the true joy of being in the west comes when I get to leave the post, and ride out into the surrounding vast land. When I’m not looking over my shoulder for Indians, I stare in awe at the scenery. It’s breathtakingly beautiful.”
“Do you prefer it to Georgia?”
David fingered his hat as he pondered his answer. “I think I do. That’s what is making my decision about my future path so hard. I know I should return home to Savannah and ease my father’s burden of running the plantation. Yet I love my life in the west, even in the bleak and cold housing of the fort. It’s a difficult decision.”
“Duty to family or duty to country? Yes, I can see your dilemma.” Heather contemplated his situation and replied, “Yet if you were to free all your slaves and sell the plantation, your parents would be set financially for the rest of their lives, and you would be free to pursue your love of the military life, right?”
David smiled across the room. “You make it sound so simple. If I had no ties to the land in Georgia, I’d say your suggestion had merit. However, the land has been in our family for generations, and I can’t just sell it off. My forefathers are buried on that land. It’s where my roots are. I’d love for you to see it.”
Heather nervously wove her fingers into the folds of her dress. “Maybe, one day. But for now, why don’t you describe it to me? I’ll close my eyes and you paint a picture that I can visualize.”
David rose to his feet and paced the room as he talked. His hands sliced through the air as he began to describe his homestead. “Imagine a big white house sitting high on a hill. It’s built from stone but whitewashed to reflect the rays of the hot sun. At the front of the house are eight huge white pillars that extend all the way across, with a wide porch where we sit in the afternoon. The driveway leading up to the home is white as well, made from crushed oyster shells. On either side of the drive are magnolia trees, which bloom in the early spring. When the blooms drop, it’s like pink rain falling. There are fields of crops extending for hundreds of acres. We grow cotton and tobacco, and rotate them every couple of years, so as not to burn out the soil. The darkies like to sing as they labor, and their voices make a most melodious sound in the afternoon sun. It’s a good life.”
“I can almost see it,” Heather said softly while her eyes were still shut. “Where do the slaves live?”
“In shanties, which are tucked behind the stables. The shanties are usually a one-room house with a loft for sleeping. They are adequate and comfortable.”
“Sort of like living on a military base out west?” Heather’s eyes popped open and honed in on the pacing man.
He turned to face her. Then, he sat down beside her on the narrow loveseat, and took one of her hands in his. “Now that you mention it, I suppose it is like living on a military base. Although it gets mighty cold in Missouri, unlike the hot conditions in Georgia. I do envy the married officers at the fort, who have someone to help warm their beds at night.”
David boldly leaned in toward Heather. She sat, entranced, as his lips came closer to hers, until they were just a hair’s breath away.
“I thought you might be needing your tea refreshed, Miss Heather,” Colleen bustled into the room pushing a teacart. Heather and David broke apart before she looked up, but their hands were still intertwined. Colleen smiled as she placed the cart in the room and prepared to remove the old one. “Shall I pour fresh cups for the pair of you?”
“No, Colleen, that’s fine. I’ll handle the
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