The Topanginu Warrior

By David Ward Davis and Lisa E. Brown

The Topanginu Warrior is not a politically correct version of what transpired on the plantations of the South during the 19th Century - This story, saga if you will, is told with all of the warts intact and the lost hope of the African American culture told as it truly was. To us there is no other way to tell it. It was ugly, it was debasing and it was fraught with wrenching heartbreak and untold danger - however, out of that turmoil emerged a powerful force that helped shape the America we live in today.

Topa was born in the small village of Topingau in Africa. His dream was to be a Topanginu Warrior as his grandfather and father were before him. Captured by slave traders, in concert with a warring enemy tribe, he is brought to America and sold as property.
Growing from a boy to a young man, he learns of a great war between the whites to free the enslaved black people. His exciting escape begins a journey into a lawless frontier, filled with ruthless and dangerous men. It is an exciting adventure that will keep your eyes riveted to the page and leave you virtually breathless.

Now, close your eyes - Take a deep breath, fill your nostrils with the sweet earthy smell of the Mississippi Delta on a hot, humid summer day. Listen to the croak of the bullfrog, and the singing of a thousand crickets.

Watch the silent dark waters of the great Mississippi as it swirls past. Let your thoughts be mesmerized by the gentle swaying of the willows along its banks - dancing in the soft evening breeze.

Hear the creaking of an ancient wagon filled with cotton as it makes its way to market. See the dust swirl as a gentle mare plods along, her hooves thumping softly upon the sun-baked earth.

Visualize the great plantation houses that rise from the earth in all their splendor, their vast columns standing proudly - reaching upward to the heavens.

Hear the voices of a thousand slaves as they sing of their misery and beliefs. Hear the cries of the dying and the dead as they give their lives for what they think is right, in a great war between the citizens of a divided nation.

Yes, come with us, travel these unknown highways. Let us glimpse life as it was, just before, and during the American Civil War...

• Language: English
• Publisher: David Ward Davis
• Release date: Feb 2, 2013
• ISBN: 9781892642028

David Ward Davis

Lisa E. Brown and David Ward Davis are the bestselling authors of "Jingle Bell Rock", "The Topanginu Warrior", "Murder at 1217" “The Receptor Planet” and "Lisa's Down Home Tenmnessee Country Cooking".Smashwords does not make accomodations for 2 authors so both Authors have to be combined into ONE Author page. They really don't mind."We write as a team." Lisa says, "the system is just not set up to handle that..."Lisa E. Brown was born in Georgia and raised in Tennessee, she was daughter number four to hard working parents who made sure their home was filled with love and conviction.David Ward Davis hails from "small town" Indiana, (Martinsville) where he grew up the fifth son of loving parents and the wandering soul out of seven children.Lisa and David have been together for over 18 years and equally share the authoring of their books. They have recently begun to focus on the ebook market."Our books will always be available as printed works, but we must take advantage of new technology and present our stories however people want to receive them." David says.David and Lisa have many more books that will become available over the next four or five years - join them as they pursue their craft. They continue to move forward in their careers.Lisa E. Brown and Davis Ward Davis are names you will hear a lot of in the future. No, not as great literary writers, but as storytellers of heartfelt tales, biographies and sometimes stories about just plain people who love to live.Lisa and David's future is now...

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What Readers are Saying

about The Topanginu Warrior

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I hate anything civil war, but I liked this one - a friend insisted I read it - glad I did.

Laura M. – Junction City, - KN.

. . . this one kept me reading – there were no pages that ran on and on with drivel, a really good book.

Robert K. – Saginaw, MI.

. . . what a great book, I am anxiously awaiting the sequel . . . there has to be a second book!

Gail H. – Jacksonville, FL.

Topanginu was an awesome adventure. David and Lisa present a terrific account . . .

David B. – LaJolla, CA.

. . . a book that drags you screaming into each adventure . . . WOW!

Terry R. – Detroit, MI.

THE TOPANGINU WARRIOR

Copyright 2011

Lisa E. Brown & David Ward Davis

Aalida Press USA

SMASHWORDS EDITION

The Topanginu Warrior – ISBN 978-1-892642-02-8

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This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author

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Aalida Press USA

Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise), without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book, including the right to reproduce this book, or parts thereof, in any form. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical without the express written permission of the authors. The scanning, uploading and distribution of this book via the Internet or any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal. Purchase only duly authorized electronic editions and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of any copyrighted materials.

PUBLISHER'S NOTE

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This is a work of fiction. All events depicted are based upon the authors collective imagination. No part of this book is intended to harm any persons, group or entity either professionally or privately. Any resemblance to any person, living or dead or any geographical location is strictly coincidental.

The Publisher does not have, and does not assume, any control over, and does not have or assume any responsibility for authors or third party websites or their content.

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Please Visit our website www.aalidausa.com

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Author's Other Works

(Our Books Available in all Formats

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Lisa E. Brown & David Ward Davis

Jingle Bell Rock

Murder at 1217

The Receptor Planet

The Horizontal Lie

Lisa's Tennessee Country Cooking

* * * * *

We dedicate this book to our very talented

nephew and poet, Davey Armstrong of

Martinsville, Indiana -- his wonderful

poetry is not only deep, but touching and

alive. He is a beacon of inspiration

to all, especially to those who love him.

* * * * *

Table of Contents

What Readers are Saying

Copyright_Page

Title Page

Publisher's Note

Contact Us

Author's Other Works

Author's Preface

Chapter 1 Spring 1864

Chapter 2 Spring 1861

Chapter 3 Spring 1861

Chapter 4 Spring 1861

Chapter 5 Spring 1861

Chapter 6 Spring 1861

Chapter 7 Spring 1861

Chapter 8 Spring 1861

Chapter 9 Spring 1861

Chapter 10 Spring 1861

Chapter 11 Spring 1861

Chapter 12 Spring 1861

Chapter 13 Spring 1861

Chapter 14 Spring 1861

Chapter 15 Spring 1861

Chapter 16 Spring 1861

Chapter 17 Spring 1861

Chapter 18 Spring 1861

Chapter 19 Spring 1861

Chapter 20 Spring 1861

Chapter 21 Spring 1861

Chapter 22 Spring 1861

Chapter 23 Spring 1861

Chapter 24 Spring 1861

Chapter 25 Spring 1861

Chapter 26 Spring 1861

Chapter 27 Spring 1861

Chapter 28 Spring 1861

Chapter 29 Spring 1861

Chapter 30 Spring 1861

Chapter 31 Spring 1861

Chapter 32 Spring 1861

Chapter 33 Spring 1861

Chapter 34 Spring 1861

Chapter 35 Spring 1861

Chapter 36 Summer 1861

Chapter 37 Summer 1861

Chapter 38 Fall 1861

Chapter 39 Fall 1861

Chapter 40 Fall 1861

Chapter 41 Fall 1861

Chapter 42 Fall 1861

Chapter 43 Fall 1861

Chapter 44 Fall 1861

Chapter 45 Fall 1861

Chapter 46 Fall 1861

Chapter 47 Fall 1861

Chapter 48 Fall 1861

Chapter 49 Fall 1861

Chapter 50 Fall 1861

Chapter 51 Fall 1861

Chapter 52 Fall 1861

Chapter 53 Winter 1861

Chapter 54 Winter 1861

Chapter 55 Winter 1861

Chapter 56 Winter 1861

Chapter 57 Winter 1861

Chapter 58 Winter 1861

Chapter 59 Winter 1861

Chapter 60 Winter 1861

Chapter 61 Winter 1861

Chapter 62 Winter 1861

Chapter 63 Spring 1862

Chapter 64 Spring 1862

Chapter 65 Spring 1862

Chapter 66 Spring 1862

Chapter 67 Spring 1862

Chapter 68 Spring 1862

Chapter 69 Spring 1862

Chapter 70 Spring 1862

Chapter 71 Spring 1862

Chapter 72 Spring 1862

Chapter 73 Spring 1862

Chapter 74 Spring 1862

Chapter 75 Spring 1862

Chapter 76 Spring 1862

Chapter 77 Fall 1862

Chapter 78 Fall 1862

Chapter 79 Fall 1862

Chapter 80 Winter 1862

Chapter 81 Winter 1862

Chapter 82 Spring 1863

Chapter 83 Summer 1863

Chapter 84 Summer 1863

Chapter 85 Summer 1863

Chapter 86 Summer 1863

Chapter 87 Summer 1863

Chapter 88 Summer 1863

Chapter 89 Summer 1863

Chapter 90 Summer 1863

Chapter 91 Summer 1863

Chapter 92 Summer 1863

Chapter 93 Summer 1863

Chapter 94 Fall 1963

Chapter 95 Fall 1963

Chapter 96 Fall & Winter 1963

Chapter 97 Winter 1863

Chapter 98 February 1864

Chapter 99 February 1864

Chapter 100 February 1864

Chapter 101 Early Spring 1864

Chapter 102 Summer 1864

Chapter 103 Summer 1864

Chapter 104 Summer 1864

Chapter 105 Fall / Winter 1864

Chapter 106 Early Spring 1865

Chapter 107 Spring 1865

Chapter 108 Spring 1865

Chapter 109 June 1865

Chapter 110 June 1865

Chapter 111 June 1865

Chapter 112 July 1865

Thanks to Our Fans

Short Synopsis' of Our Books

Author's Bios

Map of Jourdan Plantation

Author's Preface

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I started this story in 1972 - I worked on it feverishly for about 4 months - then set it down. I discovered for the first time the two things that make a writer a writer, and a man with a mission afraid; success and success in that order.

I woke up one day, after years of writing songs and decided that I wanted to tell a story that had been swimming in the rivers of my mind for several years.

The story flowed at first, I could not write fast enough. In that first attempt at being a writer - I was writing everything in longhand - then later, as I grew more confident, I would type it. That approach worked for me at that time.

Then one day the flow stopped, I mean, it just stopped - like someone reached over and turned the volume down to zero. I was flabbergasted. My very first encounter with writers block threw me into a tailspin. I questioned myself constantly. Perhaps I was not destined to be a writer - perhaps I had bitten off more than I could chew.

It was almost three years later that my characters began to speak to me again. They still wanted their story told, and they still insisted that I was the one they wanted to tell it.

I reread what I had previously written, and I read it again - then, I once again jumped into the fray with both feet. The flow returned, and I was ecstatic - the story became much more than I had originally outlined - a very simple story suddenly became a saga, and a series of adventures, I felt I was on a roll.

I knew where my story was going, although the story would go in its own direction from time to time and I would obediently follow. I began to realize that I was not really the genius behind the words; not hardly. I was only the fellow who was writing down the happenings in this awesome story that was unfolding before me.

The Topanginu Warrior took me a total of twenty-five years to complete - in between, a new work would be born from time to time - but I would always go back to it. The story grew and became a saga of epic proportions. Those who have read it insist there must be a sequel, and I whole-heartedly agree. The story is so much larger than me or my ideals of what a story is or should be.

It was in 1997 that I made the final edit of the story. All of the characters had become a part of my life and I knew them all intimately. I was very proud of the work and of the journey I made in getting it completed.

With all of that said, I let the manuscript lay for another fourteen years before I shared it with anyone. The first test reads, by people unknown to me, were enthusiastic; in fact, they were beyond what I had hoped.

People were ready for a true African American hero, not a convenient hero, but a hero who was human, and vulnerable and capable of more than being a follower.

Topa was a man faced with his biggest dilemma, he was dragged into the unknown and uncharted waters of freedom, and not only survived - but found himself, his true self - in the process.

We all have something that defines us, and The Topanginu Warrior is my defining work, the one I am most proud of, and the one I present without apology. Yes, the slang, and common language of the time, is hard to read and accept, but the reality was much more brutal than I present it.

Lisa and I want you to read Topa's story with an eye to the end story - he beat the odds, he persevered, and he remained an honorable man - he did not throw his hands into the air and declare that he did not have a chance - he just kept on the path, no matter the obstacles.

We have many other books about many subjects - we are not bound to any particular genre, but we try to tell the stories we can tell with vigor and hope for the future.

Look up our other books: Jingle Bell Rock, and Murder at 1217 - We are sure you will enjoy them also.

Lisa & Dave

Chapter 1

Spring 1864

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The old gunfighter was dangling lifelessly from the portico of the livery stable. Life drained from his body by the rope secured tightly about his neck. His flesh was pocked with bright crimson splotches; it was a humiliating end for such a proud old fellow.

As Topa galloped his steed through the center of town he spied the corpse of Bandy Cole and was heartbroken at the sight of this brutal injustice. His angered soul afire, the rage welled up into his throat and he screamed YOU DIRTY BASTARDS! He leaped from the saddle of his still moving mount and darted toward the stunned Jarrett brothers. They had not expected this. In one swift movement Topa mustered his revolver and began to fire - the leaden projectiles thundering into their fleshly targets.

The first Jarrett, Blue, never knew what hit him: shot straight through the heart, he was blown backwards by the force - crumpling to the earth - he gurgled lowly and died.

The second brother was not as fortunate, death did not descend upon him immediately. The burning lead tore into his groin, sending him reeling and screaming in the dirt. He lay there jerking and puking spasmodically - the throes of death with its ghastly hands upon him.

The third shot ripped into Ned Jarrett's head, just above the right eye. It knocked him sprawling onto the dusty street - a piece of skull bone and hair skittering in the smut, the blood spurting from his mortal wound as if from an abundant well.

The youngest of the outlaws was hit just below the adams apple. The slug caught him in mid-flight as he was diving for the ground, in a vain attempt to escape the ferocious blast. The exploding bullet left a grisly cavern of crimson nearly removing all flesh from the back of his neck. He plopped to the ground like a dead bird, his face distorted in an agonized scowl.

The last brother died instantly. The fifth shot entered the left eye and exited near the right ear, leaving a gaping hole in the side of his head. His weapon had not cleared the holster.

In a space of less than four seconds, five men were dead, and they had not fired a single shot. It was a mesmerizing sight to witness, death in its swiftest fury.

Topa slowly holstered his pistol; he seemed embraced in a strange feeling of hesitation yet resolve. Without further thought he mounted a wagon parked next to the livery and pulled a knife from his belt as he did so. Upon reaching the dangling corpse of the aged gunfighter he supported the corpse with his shoulder and the the stump of his right hand, while using his left to cut loose the rope tied to the stable beam.

He carried the lifeless remains of his dear friend to the horse that had stood faithfully nearby, waiting for his masters' return. Laying the corpse across the saddle, Topa carefully secured Bandy with a rope.

The large crowd that was gathering following the gun battle uttered not a word. The grisly sight they beheld muted them completely.

Topa looked around until he located Bandy's sorrel, with tears streaming across his cheeks he took the bridle reins in his hand and stepped up into the saddle. He nodded to the elderly sheriff, who stood quietly nearby with a group of the townspeople. The Sheriff grimly acknowledged him with a slight wave of his hand as Topa dug his spurs into the side of the horse and rode silently off into the eerily quiet darkness leading the horse with the body of the proud gunfighter in repose across the saddle.

As Topa rode into the night, he tried to remember what had happened but it was useless. He knew he had killed them all, but it had happened so fast that it was now just a blur in his memory.

The ride back to the ranch seemed to take an eternity. Topa remembered the first night he had traveled this road; Bandy Cole, the rugged, onetime gunfighter, had saved HIS life that night. Topa wept bitterly, for he felt he had failed to do the same.

Picking up a shovel at the ranch house Topa set out to find a final place of rest for Bandy. He wanted to find the perfect spot, a vantage point from which Bandy would be able to watch over his dream for the rest of eternity. Stopping atop a small knoll a quarter of a mile from the ranch house, he found the place he was looking for. From this point the whole of Bandy's property was visible.

Topa began to dig. The sun-baked dirt was unforgiving at first, the hardened clay resisted the advances of the spade. He began slowly, then faster and faster. The anger in him taking more and more control the farther he dug into the dark earth. He found himself digging furiously as the emotions spilled out and he acted as if a man possessed. Discarding his shovel, he fell to his knees, clawing and tearing at the ground with his one good hand.

Finally, Topa collapsed; face down into the shallow pit breathing laboriously as the passion of the moment overtook him. He lay silently for several hours, drifting in and out of uneasy slumber until the morning sun began to creep over the horizon.

He lay in the morbid hole for the longest time and contemplated his life. The smell of the newly dug dirt was sweet yet pungent in his nostrils. He fuzzily recalled several memories from his past in which fresh turned earth had played a small and mostly insignificant part.

There seemed no reason for his being or his continuing, yet he knew that this day would come and go as thousands had before and perhaps thousands more would after. Nothing could change the things that had happened this day and no power would or could reorder them.

Topa sat upright in the grave deciding that he now needed to finish the uninviting task that lay before him. He briskly rubbed his face with his one good hand then climbed out of the now musty smelling hole in the ground.

He carried Bandy's body to the grave and laid it carefully in its place. The odor of death hung heavily in the cool morning air and quickly overpowered the musty perfume of the damp earthen pit. Strangely, the old fellow still retained a certain look of dignity although the numerous splotches of now deep brown crimson and the grotesque bloating of the corpse highlighted the grisly final moments of life.

Topa reached down and brushed back Bandy's salt and pepper locks from his cheeks then placed the gunfighters crumpled brown Stetson over his face. He bowed his head and rendered a short prayer aloud; Lawd, this here is Missah Bandy Cole. I ain't gonna lie and say, he ain't never did no wrong surely did many wrongs and he would be the first to tell you that. But, Lawd, this was a good man what gave his life for helpin' me, a lowly black man an' I think that is worth overlookin' some of the sins he may'uv done -- thank you Lawd an' amen.

Topa covered the body with a woolen blanket and slowly heaped the dirt upon it. He then sat down beside the plot in silence and gazed across the valley upon the ranch house, the trees and the land. Topa was bitter in his heart at the terrible blow that fate, once again, had dealt him.

His thoughts wandered back, back to another world, another time. A world far removed from where he was now, yet a time not that long ago when he was a bonded man. These past four years had not been easy; he had spent most of this time on the run. He was running from several things, bondage, murder, bigotry and hatreds but most of all from his own fears and truths.

In his minds eye, he could see his dear Luci once again. It was becoming harder and harder for him to form her image in his thoughts and this scared him. He recalled the night he told her he was going to run away to freedom, yet here he was, still in bondage, not to any man but within his own heart.

Chapter 2

Spring 1861

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The two figures stood embracing in the secluded darkness. The only disturbance being the gurgle of the small creek that ran below the bank where they now stood and the usual sounds of a mid-summers night. The loud croak of a defiant bullfrog echoed across the open fields above them, then a dozen more joined in unison. The incessant chirping of what seemed a million crickets filled the air, and the occasional barking of a dog somewhere in the distant darkness, could be heard.

I love you so . . . so . . . vehry . . . vehry . . . much! she whispered. It was a hoarse heavy sort of whisper that betrayed her innermost feelings. Topa nodded his head in silence, not answering, as he pulled her closer. His worried eyes looked beyond her into the heavy misty darkness that surrounded them.

Luci Jourdan was not a beautiful woman by any standards; however, her youth alone enhanced her homely features making them appear much more becoming than they actually were. She was but twenty-two years of age, in the flower of her youth, and she, a white woman, was in love with a black man a slave.

Luci was the daughter of moderately wealthy plantation owner and slave master Leviticus E. Jourdan. She enjoyed her station in life and never questioned her position in society. In fact she never really considered it at all.

Her mother departed this life when Luci was barely three years of age; consequently, Luci was not as well mannered as an overseeing mother would have undoubtedly demanded.

She was benignly aware of the position of blacks in southern society, but that knowledge did not constrain her in the least from falling deeply in love with this bonded man. The truth being, no white suitors had shown any interest whatsoever in this awkward and very homely girl.

Yes, a belle of the southern culture, being in love with a slave, a black man, was the darkest sin that could be foisted upon society. The consequences were unthinkable should their plighted-love be discovered.

Topa was a slave, a man of bondage. This had not always been so. He was born a freeman and thusly not conditioned mentally to accept slavery as those who are born in bondage are wont to do. Having known freedom, the thought of knowing it again never left his mind.

His thoughts would wander back to the small village of Topingau (toe-pin-gow) where he was born. It had been many years, he had been only a boy, and time had eroded his memory somewhat. He could picture the village and the Hatu (hat-too) or hut, where they lived. He remembered the villagers who had been his friends and those who also were his enemies. He remembered these and many other things.

His father Muluku (muh-lew-kew) had been a great Topanginu (Toe-pang-gen-ew) warrior. He could remember vividly the ceremonies and the times his father was honored for bravery in battle.

The Topanginus constantly warred with a neighboring tribe who were their adversaries and had been for many generations. Known as the Gamambas (Guh-mom-buzz) they were ferocious warriors and unscrupulous tribesmen; Topa would always carry hatred in his heart for them. It was this tribe that brought the white man to their village and betrayed the Topanginus to the slavers.

The Gamambas dishonored him and robbed him of ever becoming a Libuwenta (Lib-ooh-wen-tuh) or boy-warrior. Because of the Gamambas, he would never know or fully understand the ways, customs and freedoms of his ancestors.

Topa had not forgotten the big `canoe' that had brought he and his family across the great blue lake. He had often wondered what direction his life would have taken if the slavers had not burst into his family's hut that fateful night and brought them to the country called Charleston.

He grimaced when he conjured up memories of the long hard voyage. They knew they were being taken to their death, they never dreamed that it actually was a fate considered much worse than death; slavery. It seemed the canoe would never find land again, and the lake was without shores. Day after day, week after week, time and space lost all meaning.

The Topanginu's as well as many other mixed tribes and people were herded, like cattle aboard the boats; they lived as the boar lives, in stench and filth. Sickness was rampant among them as the big canoe was tossed and rolled by the waters of the great blue lake. It was common to watch weak and dying men, women, and children mutilate themselves in savage attempts of self-destruction. This was the depth of their terror.

He was barely nine years old when he first saw busy Charleston Harbor. He could vividly recall the very day Leviticus E. Jourdan had purchased his father and mother; luckily, he was included in the sale. Topa's older sister, Lati, was sold to a buyer from another village called Macon. He had not seen or heard of her since.

During the trip to west Mississippi, Topa's father, Muluku the great Topanginu warrior, attempted escape. Quickly captured he was murdered by Leviticus Jourdan's men. Topa vividly remembered watching his father kneel upon the ground as his captors taunted and spat upon him. He would never forget how his father remained proud and defiant, a Topanginu warrior to the very end. He held his head high with his eyes riveted upon his wife and son. He showed no pain as they beat and kicked him viciously, a true Topanginu could never show fear of their adversaries.

Topa watched as they placed the barrel of a gun to the back of his father's head and pulled the trigger. Never had Topa forgotten the sight of him lurching forward into the dust, his life puddling bright red upon the ground. This would forever be an open sore within the heart and mind of this young boy. He swore to himself then, he would extract zuma (zoo-muh) or revenge upon these men someday.

These memories were etched forever in Topa's thoughts. Sometimes they would come to him in the night, tormenting him with their reality. He would awaken, trembling uncontrollably and soaked in perspiration, knowing full well, they would always haunt and perplex him.

It took fifteen risings of the sun to reach the big white hatu of Levi Jourdan. Topa was just a boy however he was still awed by the sight of the huge plantation. There were no words in the language of the Topanginu to describe such a place. In his mind, he decided that surely one of the Mesla (Mess-luh) or Gods lived in a place such as this.

The dirt, was covered with a bright green, as far as the eye could see. The path that the wagon took was long and lined with the weeping tree. There were so many horses and wagons he could not count them all.

The small hatu's they passed were more like his village. He could see many of the people were dark skinned like he and his mother. He wondered what tribe had they belonged to? Were these tribesmen taken in the night by the slavers as he and his family had been? There were more of his people here than there had been in his whole village. He watched carefully for the white lobe of the Gamambas, if they were here, he would extract his zuma.

Upon arrival at Jourdan Plantation, Topa was immediately assigned to the Jourdan children as their servant. He was their constant companion, and this included schooling. When he reached the age of sixteen, he was turned out into the fields to be a common laborer just as the boy he replaced had been

The years passed slowly. The work in the fields was laborious, only the strong seemed to survive for any length of time. Topa's massive physical condition now was proof of this very fact.

He was a strapping man who stood about six-foot four, and weighed in the neighborhood of 260 pounds, every pound being pure black rippling muscle. Women were attracted to his manly physique and he easily could have his choice of any woman in the slave quarters. He possessed smooth brown skin and black steady eyes that radiated animal strength.

Despite his menacing physical appearance, Topa was a gentle man, a man who was not wont to cause trouble. Many men discovered, however, that once pushed to the end of his endurance, he was a man of swift fury.

As he grew to manhood Topa never learned to accept his bondage. Unlike many of the slaves who were born into slavery and accepted its restraints Topa had known freedom and yearned to know it again. He knew he would always be a Topanginu' and would never let the memories of his boyhood escape him. He would never relinquish his tribal name of `Topangani'. It did not bother him to be called `Topa' in this white man's land because in his heart, he knew who he was.

The past year had been uneventful for him. He heard much talk about the white man's war and questioned anyone he could about it. He heard talk that it was over the ownership of slaves. From what he could understand, the people who lived in the north did not believe in slavery, and would no longer tolerate it in the southern states. The people of the south said it was none of the Yankees business and refused to change.

Thusly, Topa felt that the people of the north were a wonderful lot and were sympathetic to his desire to be free although, he did not fully understand, nor could he comprehend, the true issues involved.

Conditions on the plantations had grown progressively worse following the April 12th shelling of Ft. Sumter by Southern Secessionists. War was immediately declared by President Lincoln, and the two armies were now being called to do battle with one another.

The growing sentiment over the war and its purpose was causing the black people of the south many heartaches and untold troubles. Slaves were beaten severely, many were killed, as examples of what fate awaited them should escape to the free north be attempted. Lies and falsehoods abounded about the true feelings of everyone involved and all were intended to scare the slaves into submission. The greatest fear of all was the alignment of the slaves with the Union in the coming conflict. What would the repercussions of slaves uprising against their owners in the coming rebellion be?

Freedom was becoming a burning desire for Topa. It was a scary consideration. He had never had to depend solely upon himself for anything. He worried where he would go if he did become free. Which way does a man go to go north? Would they allow him to go back to his village? How would he go about finding where that was? Who would know? These questions and many more occupied his mind continually.

Topa was discovering that the psychological chains of bondage were much more powerful than the bondage itself. He wanted freedom, but even he could not comprehend what that entailed and truly was. His private terrors were definitely haunting him this night.

Topangani was standing on the bank of the stream as he held the daughter of his master in his arms. However, his thoughts were far away, confronting a tormentor much more cunning than what any man has to offer, his own fears.

Chapter 3

Spring 1861

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He could feel Luci breathing. She had remained silent for quite some time, he wondered if she knew what he was thinking. He had not been fair to her this night. He had not been able to show her the gentleness she desired. Topa thought it strange that he should be here with her, yet he was glad. This too troubled his thoughts, could this ever be? Was it a hopeless dream? He feared the latter was true and they would one day be separated forever. Why