Twenty Stories

By Burr Cook

This book contains a collection of 20 stories all of which are sold separately but are much less expensive in this form. It is Burr's complete works through April 2015. The contents herein are historical fictional adventure and romance stories 11 of which are westerns. The book begins with a Civil War era story about a slave followed by a fantasy about prehistoric people fleeing the advancing ice age. This is followed by 18 more action packed stories.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Burr Cook
• Release date: Apr 20, 2015
• ISBN: 9781310115547

Burr Cook

Burr lives in Syracuse, New York, has 4 children, several grandchildren and says that Great grandchildren are arriving at an alarming rate. Burr is a history buff and works hard on his family's genealogy and has a web site at www.burrcook.com which is partially biographical. He may be contacted through this site. He has traveled extensively throughout the US, Europe and Asia by air, rail and highway. Burr has enjoyed a 50 year career in information technology, has owned a worldwide seminar business and a company called “Cyburrsource” providing the public with internet connections. He is now semi retired and enjoys a life as a freelance writer of action/adventure/romance stories primarily in a historical western setting.

Book preview

Preface

This book contains a collection of 20 stories by Burr Cook all of which are sold separately but are much less expensive in this form. It is his complete works through April 2015. The contents herein are historical fictional adventure and romance stories 11 of which are westerns. The book begins with a Civil War era story about a slave followed by a fantasy about prehistoric people fleeing the advancing ice age.

Book I Buster

Preface

Everything about this story is fictitious including all names of people and places with the exception of a couple that are famous and well known.

My story has to do with slavery in Civil War times but I won’t do as many have done and try to write the dialogs in the vernacular of the southern African slave. Many authors try to do that and, although I wasn’t there, in my opinion, most of them fall short. Maybe Mark Twain or Harriet Beecher Stowe could do it but many authors can’t and that includes me.

This story will be like a foreign movie with the sound over dubbed in English.

We all know that the plantation owners in the antebellum south referred to blacks using the –n- word. I will not do that in my story. I have used words like slaves, blacks, Africans, servants and field workers and various others while trying not to be demeaning. Slavery was a nasty institution, but it was real. It is a part of the history of our country, a very dark part of our history, but it can’t be denied.

I didn’t set out to write this story. It just appeared in my head one day and I decided to write it down. ---Burr

Prevue Prologue

Dillon MacDonald was taking a leisurely walk in the trees which were part of the South Carolina plantation he had recently come to own. An inheritance left him by his dad, William MacDonald, who he had never known. He was carrying a shot gun in case he came across any game on his walk in the woods although he was not there just for hunting. He had not yet explored all of his property that consisted of thousands of acres, although he did not remember exactly how many. It was a nice mid summer day and he was now a country gentleman. His property was an island and he owned it all. It was completely surrounded by the river waters and approachable by only one bridge just wide enough for a horse and wagon to cross.

Suddenly a rabbit darted in front of him. It was an easy shot and Nanny, his cook, would make a stew with it for dinner. As the echo of the gun shot faded from his hearing he was startled by a strange sound coming from a nearby grove. He was sure there weren’t any large animals such as bison or bears on the island although there were some in the surrounding forests. He cautiously moved toward the sound. It came again from the same direction. He started poking in the brush not finding anything when he heard it once more. This time he was astonished and a little frightened, he was sure now, that it sounded like a human groaning. He took several steps toward the sound and nearly tripped over a man lying on the forest floor. He could see that it was a fairly large black man and that he was covered with blood. What on earth could’ve happened! he soliloquized as he took some water from his canteen and washed the man’s forehead with a handkerchief. The man tried to speak and Dillon cautioned him to go easy since it was obviously hurting him terribly to try to talk.

After Dillon had spent a few moments poring water over the man’s face and washing his brow the man asked, Who’re you?

Dillon replied, I’m the owner of this plantation.

Please don’t turn me in! was the man’s only statement, please don’t turn me in!

Turn you in to whom?

To the slave catchers, the man replied.

Did they do this to you?

Yes, one hundred lashes and they left me for dead. I crawled here from over there, he said as he raised one arm a little pointing toward the river.

What’s your name? Dillon asked, not knowing just what to say.

Buster, my name’s Buster. Please don’t try to move me.

I’ll go for help, said the land owner as he started running toward the house.

Chapter I Home

It was spring time and Dillon MacDonald sat on the front porch reading a news paper. It was dated April, 1860 and was a couple of weeks old but where he lived that was about the best he could do. There was a lot of talk in the news about the institution of slavery in the southern states however Dillon lived in the north where the abolition movement had been gathering momentum recently. He hadn’t given the topic a lot of real thought but he had discussed it with many of his friends. They seemed to be split down the middle on the subject. He really wasn’t sure where he stood and certainly wasn’t convinced that all of the talk of cruelty was factual. After all there must be laws against such things. This is America he thought. None the less there was a lot of discussion about it in the Syracuse paper he was presently perusing. He’d seen articles written by abolitionists in many papers and magazines recently. He had also glanced through issues of North Star (an anti-slavery newspaper). Syracuse appeared to be the center of the abolitionist movement in Upstate New York. The underground railway was talked about openly as well as the Fugitive Slave Act of eighteen fifty requiring the authorities in the northern states to return runaway slaves to their southern owners just like any other property. If one looked over the news these issues couldn’t be missed. He had never seen a black person that he could remember. From everything he had heard from his friends and family they were not intelligent enough to be on their own.

Dillon was the stepson of a farm family living in the Upstate New York, County of Ontario which is located midway between the cities of Rochester and Syracuse. Having recently become twenty one years of age he was still small in stature but was considered to be handsome and he was looked on fondly by the local girls even though he walked with a slight limp as a result of an accident early in life. He wore his hair long and it was curly and very black and he had pale blue eyes. He was about five and a half feet tall, weighed about a hundred and sixty pounds and was solid and muscular due to his life of farm work.

He had lived with the Chapman family – Mabel and Stanley - since he was quite young. They were not exactly a loving couple, at least not outwardly, but were never abusive. Dillon was happy living there and knew them as the only parents he’d ever had. The Chapmans had never actually adopted him legally so he still kept the family name of MacDonald. Stanley and Mabel Chapman owned sixty acres of prime farm land and got by quite well although they were not wealthy. Dillon was a good farm worker even with his twisted leg. He was especially fond of horses, dogs and various farm animals.

He never knew his parents. He had heard that they were killed in a buggy accident, involving run away horses and that it was in that accident that he had injured his leg which never healed properly and left him with a limp. He got around pretty good and could do most kinds of farm work even with a twisted leg.

Although he had never graduated he did have a basic education and enjoyed reading. He had no real bad habits except for pipe smoking, which most men did, and an occasional beer with his buddies in town especially on the Saturday dance nights. Most of his time was spent helping out on the farm. He loved to watch the corn grow; it grew so fast in the hot summer months. They also raised lots of wheat, potatoes and beets and they kept a few dairy cows, some beef cattle and chickens.

Due to his lame leg he had never participated in the games that the young men were interested in except that he was fond of hunting. He owned a shot gun and a small gage rifle and was an accurate shot with them. But young Mister MacDonald had a hobby that brought him in contact with many young women. He played the fiddle in a country band, often for local barn dances. He did not often have the nerve to ask a girl to dance and seldom had the opportunity since he helped furnish the music. He thought about it however.

There was little romance in his life, although that was not his choice he just didn’t know how to go about it. He liked a neighborhood girl as a friend; her name was June. His thoughts and fantasies often had a lot to do with her but he had not yet gathered together the courage to approach her romantically. He was very shy and lived several miles from the nearest village where he had attended school.

His work was rather hum drum and he had plenty of time for fantasies which usually included June. He often thought of her and hoped some day to get the nerve to ask her to dance and he was sure he would if he wasn’t always with the band. He liked her way of being like one of the boys and a good friend although he thought of her a lot in other ways as well but it was all just in his fantasies. Even though they were especially friendly toward each other they hadn’t had any physical contact as yet other than holding hands. Many times they would lie on the hay upstairs in the barn over the cows and just talk about lots of things. Both of them dreamed of traveling some day, having never been further than the surrounding counties. He was fond of June and thought he would soon get up nerve to ask her to teach him to dance. She had offered a couple times but he put it off because he thought he might mess up because of his leg. He used the band as an excuse. He knew if he really thought about it that people were kinder than that; he was really just self conscious. It wasn’t that she wasn’t attractive. She was.

April 29, 1860 was a Sunday. It was a custom for Dillon to accompany the Chapman couple to the Baptist church in the nearby village. He had never thought much about religion but always attended the service because he knew that was what his step parents wanted him to do and June was often there. On special occasions he would play hymns on his fiddle in church. He knew that he did it well and he usually got lots of praise for his performances.

As he sat in the pew his mind wandered in spite of the loud preaching from the pulpit. He was day dreaming about the previous afternoon when he was fishing in the river with his friend June. They had waded in the shallow part of the stream and laughed together as they enjoyed one of the warmest days so far for the year. It was at this time that he learned that her full name was actually May June Wager; A name that was chosen because she was born on the last day of May right around midnight. They had splashed each other and got a little wet then lay in the sun to dry. All in all it was a memorable day and he realized that he was developing feelings toward her. He remembered looking fondly at her long dark brown curly hair and big brown eyes with speckles while he gently touched her hand. She was seventeen years old and well developed. He liked the fact that she wasn’t taller than him as many of the girls were.

Upon leaving the church service he was disappointed to find that June was not there although he knew she would ride her pony, Priscilla, over to visit him in the afternoon which was her custom on Sundays. They had more privacy at his home than at hers. The Chapmans left them pretty well alone while June’s parents were constantly keeping an eye on them. Not that they were misbehaving, they just wanted to be by themselves.

The following Saturday Dillon rode his horse to town to visit with some of his buddies and practice with the band and buy some things for the farm at the general store. The store also served as the post office and he was surprised to find that he had received a letter. Getting mail was very unusual for him and even more strange was that the mail had come from Charleston, South Carolina. After noting the thickness of the envelope he decided to wait till he got home before opening it. He was curious but he soon forgot about it for a while because he had run into a couple of his friends at the store and was busy visiting and having a few laughs about nothing in particular. The crowd that he normally roamed around with was not into hanging around the saloon like many of the young men in town. Alcoholic beverages were only for special occasions with them so they hung out in the back room of the general store. The store owner’s son, John, was a member of the band and they often used the room for practicing.

When he got home Dillon delivered the items he had brought from town for the Chapmans, placing them on the kitchen table. Mabel Chapman thanked him and went about her work. She was always busy with laundry, kitchen work and she usually, for some reason, took charge of the chickens and she fed them much of the left over food which would otherwise spoil.

He was curious about the letter he had received, so, alone in his room, he opened and read it. The letterhead read Jameson and Scruggs, Attorneys at Law, Charleston, South Carolina.

Dillon did not understand all of the legal talk in the letter and accompanying papers but he got the general idea of it. He was shocked to read that his father, William D. MacDonald had recently passed away. He couldn’t help thinking out loud, So he didn’t die in the accident like I was led to believe. That would mean that when his mother was killed it was his father who’d left him with the Chapmans. They’d never told him. He was also learning that his father had some money in the bank in South Carolina where he had settled and that he also was the owner of some property. His father had written a will and was leaving everything to Dillon, his only surviving relative, his son. According to the lawyers, all he had to do was to come to their office in Charleston and sign some papers to claim his inheritance.

Once he was over the shock of what he had just learned about his father he sat back and thought about a trip to the south. First of all he had little assets and such a trip would certainly cost more than he had. It would, however, offer a welcome break in the monotony of farm life.

He kept the letter to himself for a few days until he went to town for band practice where he shared it with his buddies. They were very excited by it. His best buddy Phil took a pull on his pipe and exclaimed Dillon you could be getting a lot of money. The property must have some value.

Yes but I’ve got to get there first.

They all agreed that they would take up a collection among the group then someone came up with the idea of holding a special dance to collect funds for the trip. This they did and some money was raised but it certainly wasn’t enough to finance a trip to South Carolina.

Following the dance, at the dinner table, after they had eaten, Dillon shared the letter with his step parents. He told them how much money he had collected from his friends and the dance and lamented that he didn’t think it would be enough.

Mr. Stanley Chapman sat back deep in thought after loading and lighting his pipe. Following a long draw on the pipe he blew a smoke ring and said "Dillon, you’ve been a big help to us here on the farm; the nearest thing to a son that I ever had, and I’d like to do something for you.

I’m sorry that we never told you about your father but he didn’t want to have anything to do with you at the time. I’ll tell you the whole story whenever you want. He was a hired man here on the farm; but for now I want you to know that I’ve got some savings at the bank down town and I’d like to make you a loan. I’m sure it’d be enough to finance the trip when combined with what you have raised and it’d make me happy to do that for you. You’re an adult now and I know you’ll be quite capable of making the trip on your own. I’d go along with you if I could get away, but I can’t right now. Anyway it sounds like you will be able to pay the money back when you return.

Oh gosh, Dillon replied, it’d be a great experience. I’ve never travelled anywhere. Of course, I’d be able to repay you. As soon as things are settled down there, I’ll come right back and I also hope that I can repay you for helping me with my life so far. It sounds like my father had a little money saved up. Did you know about that?

No, we never heard from him after his wife was killed and he left you here. He was heart broken over the loss of his wife but never really bonded with his son.

As Dillon lay in bed that night he was not able to sleep. His mind was full of thoughts about going to South Carolina which he knew very little about. He was accustomed to reading the weekly news papers and had read about the issue of slavery. Young Mr. MacDonald was sure that he wouldn’t be affected by the practice while visiting South Carolina, however, and he wasn’t sure if he was apposed to the institution of slavery or not. He knew that it was widely practiced in the south. He didn’t like to think about the cruel way they were captured in Africa and brought to America, but after all he believed them to be savages living like animals in the jungle.

He had a lot to do to get ready for the trip. Over the next several days he purchased and packed some things he would need. This took some time since he had never done it before. He was able to borrow a trunk from one of his buddies in the band.

On the next week end he saw June and told her about the letter and that he’d be leaving shortly but he’d be back within a couple months or less for sure. Little did he know that his life was about to take a radical turn and he would actually be gone for years. After walking with her to the near by bank of the creek he told her all about his plans for the trip south. June became quiet for a while after all that was said and Dillon couldn’t help wondering why. In his mind he asked the question does she really care for me that much? That thought stuck with him for a long while. He hoped that she did care for him. He knew that he cared for her a lot.

Finally June asked Will you be around for the dance on my birthday? It’s only a few days away.

Of course, if it’s important to you, he replied.

It is, she said, and I was hoping that you could maybe get someone to take your place in the band for at least some part of the night so that I can start teaching you to dance.

I’d like that. he answered we could spend more time together.

She was very close to him now and looking directly into his eyes. He found it very natural to kiss her then. This was the first time he had ever kissed a girl. The first kiss was quick but followed up by several longer ones. She almost cried when she said I love you Dillon and I’ll sure miss you while you’re away.

It won’t take long, and I’ll be back and I love you too and I’ll miss seeing you too but it won’t be for long.

Saturday night came along quickly and it had sunk in that he had agreed to dance. But the birthday went well and Dillon actually did dance. There were enough musicians without him. June was a good teacher. They danced for most of the night. It started with a kind of reel and Dillon found it easy to learn the steps but all he could think about at first was that people were watching him and laughing at his mistakes. He fumbled sometimes because of his bad leg. But as the night went on he gained more and more confidence in his ability and even forgot about his leg. After a while he actually enjoyed the dancing. Being close to June excited him. It was the most time he had ever spent that close to a girl. He liked it. For a change he didn’t drink any beer with his fellow band members on this night. It was June and his night to be together

Dillon had ridden his horse, Molly, to the dance and June had come on her pony, Priscilla, so he accompanied her on the ride home. Before reaching her house June stopped by the creek side and got down from her pony. Dillon followed and sat himself beside her. And they listened to the sound of the stream as they kissed a few more times on the river bank. He really enjoyed being with her even though his mind occasionally wandered to thoughts of far away places as the ripple of the water put him in a meditative state. He alternately thought of how much he loved June and thoughts of his new property in the south. Would it be near the water?

Later, as Dillon lay in his bed, he wished he’d gone further than just kissing with June. He was sure that she wanted him to, but he was just too shy. He vowed to get over that. He was ashamed of himself for lacking the boldness to make love to her. But he would soon be back and have another chance.

Chapter II Travel

Dillon had his trip planned for maximum comfort as well as for maximum fun. He wanted to learn from the experience. He visited the library in town and talked to the librarian about his trip. He also discussed his plans with one of his old school teachers. He found that he could go entirely by train but he also found that it took a round about route and not only would take longer but would not be as comfortable as a ship. So he chose to go mostly by boat. He did a little more researching and found that a ship, advertising comfortable accommodations, would leave Boston Harbor for Charleston, S. C. in two weeks. He decided to take it. He could have just as easily gone by way of New York City but Boston sounded better to him and the ship was a large steamer. His plan would get him to Boston the day before the ship was to embark. His ex-teacher reminded him of lessons which involved learning about historical places in Boston when he was in her class room. She reminded him that he was interested in the Revolutionary War at one time and had learned about many of the heroes who came from Boston and after all that was the city where it all had started.

When the time came to leave, the Chapmans took him to Port Gibson which was located on the Erie Canal. June came along to see him off. Dillon sat in the wagon with his arm around her all the way to the landing and occasionally stole a kiss. He knew he would miss her.

June watched as he boarded the packet boat for Utica at nine pm. He waved goodbye to her and the Chapmans as the craft was slowly pulled from the shore by horses on the tow path. He soon found himself, because of the late boarding, occupying an upper bunk. The cabin was about seventy five feet in length and had a curtain about midway separating the men’s berths from the women’s. He vowed to get a lower bunk next time because the air was stuffy in the upper one near the ceiling. He had paid four dollars for the trip to Utica which included meals. Fortunately he was very tired and went right to sleep in spite of his excitement anticipating his new experience of becoming a traveler.

By about five am he couldn’t sleep any more so he arose early and found the bow deck and was later told that they had passed Cayuga Marsh about the time he had awakened. That would put him by now about thirty five miles from where he’d boarded the packet. Even though he had just arisen from his berth he fired up his pipe and soon he found that a number of passengers were coming from every berth and gathering to discuss their travels. The deck area in the bow was small, about seven feet front to back and soon was very crowded so many passengers took the steps up to the roof which was surrounded by a rail to keep them from falling into the canal. The deck in the stern was even shorter and was occupied by the man who steered. Once on the roof he met and talked with some of the most interesting people he had ever met. Many had traveled a lot and spoke of destinations he had heard of but could not imagine seeing. There were couples as well as many who traveled alone. The bridges were low and generally required ducking your head and for some you had to sit.

The cabin was quickly converted into a dinning area with the curtain taken down and a long table raised through the center from bow to stern. At breakfast he became acquainted with a man from Portland Maine, a most interesting man who had just come from the west. The man was good at story telling and had many good experiences to relate about the Wild West where the Indians made travel dangerous. The man monopolized the conversation throughout the meal but all of the nearby passengers were interested in his stories and listened intently.

He arrived in Utica shortly before it got dark. This is where he was to transfer to a train bound for Boston with a change in Albany. He had some time to kill and took a long walk around the city. Utica was flourishing. Genesee Street presented a fine appearance with many fancy looking mansions kept up in good style. With the irregularity of the streets the downtown buildings formed flatirons. They had passed through and made stops in Syracuse but did not get off the boat. So Utica was the largest city he had ever walked around in and he looked around at everything with great curiosity until it got too dark. Many of the girls he passed looked him over coquettishly causing him to blush. When he arrived back at the railroad station he treated himself to a snack and sat outside with his pipe until the train arrived.

The train was smoky and uncomfortable and he spent much of the time smoking his pipe anyway and used up most of his tobacco which he planned to replenish in Boston. He enjoyed the ride in spite of the discomfort and met many people who had been to all parts of the world and listened with interest to their stories. Dillon was never much of a mixer but was quickly gaining courage to allow him interaction with others. He found most folks he met to be courteous and friendly. Of course there are always exceptions which he was learning to avoid. During the long ride from Albany he travelled through many towns of historical interest in Massachusetts. There were many well kept farms which he admired. Many of the barns were a continuation of the farm house. He also managed to get some sleep even though he was sitting all the way. He enjoyed reading a good selection of news papers and magazines; had his shoes shined and listened to the click clack of the wheels on the tracks. This was his first experience traveling on anything that was not propelled by a horse. On some of the curves he could look out of the window and see the steam engine puffing away. It seemed to be pulling the massive load with unbelievable ease. All things considered the entire ride was tiring but enjoyable.

Upon arrival in Boston he was ready for detraining and he immediately started on a long walk which took him by a few stores where he purchased some items he would need for the next leg of his journey including a good supply of some fine tasting pipe tobacco. That was followed by a fine lunch consisting mostly of sea foods that he had never tasted before.

After his shopping adventure he walked around observing some of Boston’s down town and remembering his history lessons. Toward evening he hired a hansom cab to pick up his trunk and to drive him to the harbor where he selected a hotel not far from the pier where his ship to Charleston would be boarding the following morning. While sitting in the hotel lobby he met a family by the name of McGee consisting of a couple with two teen agers who were waiting for the same boat. One of these happened to be a fine looking girl around the same age as June. This made him think that he might have a more enjoyable voyage to South Carolina. He was proud of himself for having the courage to talk to a girl he had just met. He was learning fast for a man who had seldom left the farm. Getting acquainted was made easier because the girl was rather bold making up for Dillon’s shyness. She stayed behind as the rest of the family left and he enjoyed some good conversation with Matilda McGee. He was especially interested in her as she reminded him of June although she looked nothing like her. Matilda had blond hair artificially curled in ringlets. She was quite outgoing and seemed to like Dillon. What a strange name, Matilda, he thought to himself. And what a strange accent she spoke with; even more strange than the Boston people’s accent. Once again he noticed that he was gaining experience and courage when talking to girls. It wasn’t long before he got an invitation to join the McGee family at dinner and accepted. They ate in the hotel restaurant and again had a very well prepared meal. It was fish called sea bass and some delicious chowder.

The next morning they were allowed to board the ship and were shown to their quarters. His stateroom was small but comfortable. He had not selected the most expensive accommodation but neither did he choose the cheapest. He had gathered together more than enough money for the trip. In his room he rested until there was a knock on the door and a porter called out lunch is ready.

They were treated to lunch about the time the ocean steamer called The Cape Cod weighed anchor and slowly passed out of the harbor. Dillon was invited to join the McGee family’s table, as a guest, because the table was reserved for first class passengers only, but they insisted. Once underway the captain, John Benson, joined their table as well. He was talkative and offered to show them around the ship later and said that he would update them as to where they were at each step of the way. The vessel was many times bigger than the canal boat. It had multiple decks with plenty of space for sitting in comfort. There were two large smoke stacks which billowed huge amounts of smoke and steam. The stacks were high enough that the smoke usually passed overhead but you had to be careful sometimes or you would get tiny cinders in your eyes that were very uncomfortable. The Captain looked proud when he explained that the ship possessed a screw propeller rather than the large side paddle wheels that many vessels still used. This type of propulsion was superior and faster. The food was very good and for the rest of the trip Dillon was accepted at the first class table. He didn’t even know the whereabouts of the table he should have used. Everyone just thought that he was a member of the McGee family.

It being a little chilly on the Atlantic Dillon found it necessary to change his clothes putting on a sweater and generally warmer things before showing up on deck, even though it was early summer. He didn’t mind the cool breeze since he was used to outdoor life. Matilda found it a bit uncomfortable and stayed inside a lot of the time.

He already missed June but soon got interested in watching porpoises jumping out of the water along side of the ship.

During the night a storm came up and he awoke in the morning a little sea sick. He went up to the deck and experienced some relief as he gradually became accustomed to the constant motion of the vessel which, as the captain had explained, was much better than some of the others because of the size of his ship. The wind eventually died down and it remained calm most of the rest of the way. He also saw a number of Sharks frequently coming along side to jump out of the water. The McGee family that he had met back in Boston, and had lunch with on board, came on deck with their two teen agers. Dillon had already gotten well acquainted with Matilda and he bravely made more conversation with her when she came on deck although she hated the cold and stayed inside a lot of the time. He again noted that he was developing a better rapport with the girls since the last dance he had attended. Matilda was very much a southern girl. She had always lived in Charleston but some of her family had moved to Massachusetts and the McGee family was returning from a visit there. He had some pleasant talks with Matilda on route. These conversations were new and unusual for him due to her complete lack of the shyness with which he had always been plagued. There were few places to really be alone on the ships deck so there was no love making even though Dillon got the impression that she was somewhat experienced in such things. He had never met a southern girl and wasn’t really sure how to take her.

After dinner each night Matilda’s brother Tom would take a package of food to the two servants they had brought along to wait on them during their vacation. The slaves were locked in a room someplace and were not allowed on deck. Dillon was not sure just what was in the package but it didn’t look anything like what the other passengers were eating.

The ship was abounding with comfort but Dillon was glad to hear the captain telling the McGee couple that they were only a few miles out of the destination harbor. Many of the passengers had come on deck in anticipation of the arrival. It was interesting to watch as the ship was guided into Charleston passing some islands and what looked like at least two forts. Soon they found themselves stepping onto solid earth again. It took a while to become accustomed again to not rolling with the sea.

Once in Charleston Dillon hired a hack to help him locate an adequate hotel as it was late afternoon and he could visit his lawyer’s office in the morning. He hoped they had gotten his letter explaining his travel plan and arrival date. As soon as he was checked into the hotel he took a short walk while it was still daylight and not quite time for supper. He found that many of the houses externally looked old and decayed. They were built of course brick on which there was a layer of mortar that was intended to look like blocks of stone, but fell short. All of the houses stood from one to three stories in height. The streets were narrow, irregular and filthy. Some of them were paved but not all. The richly kept buildings seen in Boston were not found here in abundance though they had a few. He couldn’t help noticing that here there was a ten to one ratio of blacks to white people. He was shocked to see that some of the blacks were the most miserable beings that he had ever seen. Ragged filthy haggard and worn out, it seemed that the grave would be desirable to many of them. But the condition of city blacks, he later found, was far superior to some of those on the plantations.

Later when he perused one of the city news papers he saw ads for hundreds of human beings offered for sale and priced at several hundred dollars. One article seemed to confirm what he had heard about the cruel punishments that many slaves received. The premise was that the abolitionists were actually the blame for it. The article’s author, a slave trader, claimed that because of all the abolition talk the slaves were getting much harder to handle and increasingly harsher punishments had to be incorporated in order to maintain order. He said that if the people in the northern states would just shut up the slaves would stay in their place much more readily. Dillon hated cruelty to animals and didn’t know just what to think about cruel treatment of these slaves brought here against their will from the jungles of Africa. Weren’t they entitled to the same consideration as the farm animals? But, he concluded that it was not his affair.

Chapter III Lawyers

In the Morning Dillon had a substantial breakfast even though he wasn’t sure what it was made of. It was certainly not Boston. He recognized some of the foods but others were completely foreign to him. The restaurant was just off the hotel lobby. All of the customers were white folks and all of the work was being done by blacks which he assumed were slaves.

The office of attorneys Jameson and Scruggs was in walking distance from his hotel so he enjoyed the brisk walk that took him to the lawyer’s building by about nine a.m. He was greeted by a black lady and introduced himself. She said that she would inform the lawyers that he was here and went into the next room for a minute. When she returned she said they were ready for him and that he would be seen in a very short time after which she seated him in a comfortable chair and proceeded to make him some coffee. She was very polite and her appearance was cleaner and she was much better dressed than the Africans he had seen on the city streets. She was more plump than most of the others. She was obviously eating better. As he sat waiting he picked up a news paper and was surprised to note that it came from New York City and he noticed that it was opened to articles having to do with the abolition movement. Someone here had been reading about it.

When the African lady returned with the coffee she said my name is Betty, Mr. MacDonald, is there anything else I can get for you?

No. He was embarrassed to be speechless, as he had never spoken to a black woman before.

About the time he finished his coffee a door opened and a tall man emerged from the inner office. Dillon noticed that he looked to be a little beyond middle age, but was in good physical condition, as he stuck out his hand and said My name’s Lester Jameson and I understand that you’re Mr. MacDonald.

Dillon.

And this is my partner, Samuel Scruggs; Sam.

Howdy, Sam I’m pleased to meet you.

Sam was much younger than Lester, possibly in his early 30s. They both were well dressed in business attire, and gave Dillon confidence that they were honest lawyers.

Mr. Jameson, who seemed to be the senior partner, spoke next, OK you can call me Lester. Your father lived in South Carolina for a number of years and I knew him well. When did you last see your dad?

Dillon was ashamed to say that he did not know his father and until recently didn’t even know he was alive at least he was alive until a couple months ago I understand.

The lawyer sat back and thought about that for a minute, filling and lighting his pipe.

Dillon took his pipe from his jacket pocket and asked May I try some of your tobacco?

Of course, help yourself.

So Dillon filled and lit his pipe.

Lester drew a long breath inhaling a large amount of smoke before he spoke again. Then you weren’t aware that he’d amassed a fairly substantial fortune Mr. MacDonald?

Dillon simply said no as his mouth dropped open what kind of a fortune?

Then Scruggs took a deep breath and injected well there’s money in several banks and a large plantation. He owned an island; I don’t remember exactly how many acres, I have the figures here someplace, there was also some live stock, horses and a couple dozen slaves.

Dillon was shocked and frightened by that last statement as he queried Who’s running things there now?

Your father has had an overseer for a number of years. He hasn’t been paid for a couple of months but I promised him I’d take care of it as soon as you arrived.

I have no idea how to deal with slaves!

Well. Lester injected That’s what the overseer is for.

Dillon thought for a minute before asking Can’t I just sell the slaves and hire people? I am inheriting a fortune.

Unfortunately you’ll never harvest your crops without them.

Dillon thought for a minute Why can’t I hire people?

The lawyer shook his head and said, White folks won’t pick cotton.

Oh, Dillon said with surprise.

OK, Lester said We’ve got a lot to do and it’ll take most all day. So let’s do the paper work while you think it through. The overseer will stay with you after he gets paid so you’ll have some time to get used to being a land baron. We need to transfer title to the property, including land and buildings, and for each slave there’re individual papers to sign. Later we’ll need to visit the bank. I’ll introduce you to the bankers and we can transact our business there. Tomorrow one of us will travel up the river with you and show you the plantation. Sam is the one who’ll likely go with you; he’s younger than me. It’ll take about four hours to get there. Have you got any questions before we get started?

Yes, I’ve got one question, I don’t know just how to say it, Dillon hesitated and asked, Do you own any people?

Lester answered No, Betty is free. She lives at my home with my wife and me because it’s not safe for her on the streets and we’ve known her all of her life. We live in Charleston and deal with slavery every day, but, we don’t like it. We’re apposed to it but we don’t make a lot of noise about it; it’d cost us a lot of business.

With the introductions and preliminaries out of the way, the rest of the morning was busy with paper work.

After the lawyers took Dillon to a good restaurant for lunch they visited a bank where some of his father’s money was held. They also informed him that there was a bank in a village three miles from his new property with a substantial amount of holdings. The lawyers suggested spreading the funds around a little more for safeties sake and volunteered to take care of that for him and that most of the paper work could be done through the mail.

Next they went by cab to an old looking, barn like, building and Dillon wasn’t sure just what for. They went inside and mingled with a few dozen men gathered around a raised platform. On the platform he saw a black man in chains being looked over by several of the men. They had him remove his shirt and inspected his muscles. Then he was made to open his mouth so they could inspect his teeth. After they had inspected every inch of the man, obviously a slave, an auctioneer started asking for bidding and the black man was eventually sold for several hundreds of dollars.

Then Lester said, Let’s take a look at the other merchandise. Then they went through a doorway into another room passing by armed guards that were posted on each side. In this room he saw black men and women and even children in cages, one person per cage, with barely enough room to sit. Dillon couldn’t see them all so he couldn’t count how many there were but it was a lot. Then Lester went on This is how your slaves will be handled if you decide to sell them. I just wanted you to see this before you make any decisions.

Why don’t they just run away? Dillon asked.

This time it was Sam who answered. There are slave catchers who track them down for a reward and they will be punished.

Punished how?

They would get a Whipping. Do you see the man standing by the auctioneer with a whip? That is what keeps them from running.

So they left the auction with Dillon a little better educated on the subject of slavery."

Lester wanted Dillon to see all of the ramifications of slavery so they made one more stop that day and that was the workhouse. They arrived there just in time to witness the usual punishment of a slave. Owners of slaves often paid the workhouse for punishing runaways. That would normally consist of twenty lashes every three days for the duration of their sentence.

After leaving the scene Dillon found it necessary to duck into an ally and vomit.

By days end Dillon was the owner of more than he ever thought anybody could own although he didn’t quite comprehend it all as yet. During the afternoon Lester took him shopping to get some things together that he would need. The lawyers had informed him that he needed guns. When Dillon objected they told him that plantation life wouldn’t be safe without them. With all the talk recently about abolition and rising sentiment for war the slaves are getting restless and there’ve been rebellions, Lester told him. So they bought a rifle, a shot gun, a pistol with a belt and a small pistol to keep in his bedroom.

Dillon made it clear that he wanted to sell everything and go back north as soon as possible and Lester said this isn’t a good time to sell because of the unsure future. Many folks around here are preparing for a fight. But, we’ll put the word out and see if we can help you with your plan.

After finishing with the lawyers Dillon returned to the hotel and cleaned up a bit. He had received a dinner invitation from the McGee family. Of course it was Matilda’s idea. He got out the paper where he had written the address and proceeded to walk the several blocks to their home. As he approached the house he saw that it was larger and better kept than most in Charleston. In fact the street he was on was lined with what he would consider to be mansions.

He rapped on the door and was greeted by a black man wearing some sort of uniform. I’m Dillon MacDonald, he said and I’m here to see Matilda.

Come right on in Mr. MacDonald, you’re expected. The family is in the parlor getting ready for dinner.

With that Dillon was shown into another room and greeted by the McGee folks. After he was greeted by her parents Matilda quickly took his arm and led him outside into a garden of flowers and various shrubs. She led him to a bench that was rather hidden from the windows of the house and bade him to sit down where they could see the sun setting and before he knew what was happening her face was just inches from his and her eyes were closed. He felt obliged to kiss her, softly at first but she soon pressed herself toward him kissing very hard and long. She had obviously done this before. She took Dillon’s hand in hers and placed it on her breast. He could feel her heart beating very fast as was his own. Her breast was very full and soft. This was another first for him. He was growing up fast but wasn’t sure just what to do next.

He was recued just in time to avoid making the decision as someone called from the doorway saying that dinner was ready. Oh damn! she exclaimed. Do you have to leave in the morning? We’re just getting to know each other and I really want to know you better Dillon.

Dillon answered Yes I’ve got to go; my lawyer’s taking me into the country to see my new property.

You’ve got property?

Yes, my father left it to me.

You’ll come back to Charleston for a visit soon, I insist.

I certainly will, he said I’ve never known a southern girl and I like what I see, that’s for sure. I want to know you better and will make the trip often.

They reluctantly released each other and joined the family at the dinning table.

He was seated next to Tom and across from Matilda. The table was richly covered with a white cloth and with utensils he had never seen before. He was very self conscious suddenly. He never had to choose between multiple spoons and forks and had no idea which to use and when. He tried to just watch the others before making a move.

There were three black women performing various tasks around the table, rushing in and out of the kitchen. None of them spoke but Mrs. McGee quietly gave them an order now and then. These African women were immaculately adorned in uniforms. One of them was dressed a little different from the others and obviously was the leader of the group as the other two did most of the work.

During dinner Matilda said Mr. MacDonald is a property owner now. It was inherited. She seemed to be addressing her father at the time. And he says he will visit again soon because his lawyers have an office in Charleston.

Just then one of the black women, one of the two workers, spilled a few tablespoons of gravy on the table cloth. Mr. McGee followed her into the kitchen and a loud slap was heard by all. No one seemed to pay much attention and when Mr. McGee returned to the table he said Tell us about your new property, Mr. MacDonald.

So Dillon began the story Well, I just left my lawyer’s office and just learned the details. I now own a large plantation. Several thousand acres, I understand. My father passed away a couple months ago and left it to me. It’s about a four hour buggy trip north west of here I understand. I also own slaves now and I’ve no idea how to deal with them. Fortunately I have an overseer to take care of things like that.

Mr. McGee seemed to be a little more interested in Dillon now, I’m sorry about your dad he said, then he added It’s good that you have an experienced man to help out. You should establish right off that you won’t allow any disrespect from the slaves.

The overseer is watching over a couple dozen slaves, I’m told. I haven’t seen the place as yet but tomorrow I’ll go there. I promised Matilda that I’ll come back for a visit and I intend to do just that. I’m sure I’ll need to see my lawyers now and then.

When the black servant came out of the kitchen again Dillon noticed a little blood on her lower lip. He was sure he didn’t like Mr. McGee and he was sure he wouldn’t use cruelty to control the slaves, at least not the females.

He was a little upset by the scene he had just witnessed and excused himself after dinner by saying that he had a long ride coming up in the morning.

Chapter IV Nanny

It was the middle of the afternoon in mid July when Dillon and Scruggs passed through the small village which was about 3 miles from his new plantation. The streets of the town were not paved and the downtown walkways were made with wooden planks. Sam pointed out the bank, the general store and the post office. There was a doctor’s office and a combination hotel and saloon. Dillon also noted that there was a black smith shop, a barber shop and some various smaller businesses. Outside of the downtown area there were no sidewalks and on the edge of town there were some odd looking grain silos and agricultural storage barns with signs offering to purchase rice, indigo, cotton, hemp and more.

The rest of the trip followed a dirt road, which was little more than some wagon tracks with grass in between, and they soon turned from the roadway to approach a narrow bridge that crossed over a river of very clear water flowing slowly toward the sea. Attached to the bridge was a sign that read The Island Plantation – no trespassing.

The plantation’s main buildings came into view when they were about half way across. A large house with two floors and a two story porch that seemed to surround the house was prominent as they exited the bridge. The house, or mansion, was surrounded by a well kept flower garden. He was reminded of Mabel Chapman’s garden but this was much more elaborate. It was definitely well cared for. There were several outbuildings behind the house, the largest of which was a horse barn connected to a dairy barn. It was from a corral connected to that building that a black man came running to greet them. He was in the process of grooming a horse when he politely enquired as to what their business was. Samuel answered saying I’ve brought Mr. MacDonald, the new owner of the island. We’re going to take a ride around the place and we’ll be back shortly for you to take care of my horse and carriage. I’ll be leaving in the morning to return to Charleston. Please inform the house servants that we’ll be here for dinner and to prepare a couple of sleeping rooms.

Yes Marse, the man replied and waited for them to leave expecting more Dillon thought. The man then added, The butler ran off last week with his boy who was a gardener and wood cutter. But there’re two women left, a cook and a house keeper.

I guess we’ll have to get by, Sam said as they drove away following the wagon tracks around the barn. Dillon noticed that the several out buildings were rather in need of a little paint and repair but functional. Most likely storage bins for crops. He turned to Scruggs and asked him what the man had meant by Marse.

Marse is a short way to say Master, Sam told him.

After pondering on that for a while Dillon just grunted Oh.

They were following a farm wagon roadway in more or less of a circle around fields of various sizes, all much bigger than any on the Chapman farm. All of the crops appeared to be doing quite well. There was rice, indigo, tobacco; none of which Dillon had recognized. There were some things that he had seen before including several kinds of vegetables, corn, beans and Orchards of apples, peaches and plums. But, by far the most abundant crop was one of those that Dillon didn’t recognize and he asked Sam what’s that?

That’s cotton my friend and you’ve got a lot of it.

Dillon noticed a couple dozen workers in the distance and suspected that they were pulling weeds and hoeing.

Scruggs said That’s only a fraction of the island. The rest is mostly woods. Some of it could be cleared. There’s some good timber out there and it’d make lots of lumber.

With that done they drove back to the barn where Sam again asked the stable man to take charge of the horse and buggy. Dillon asked him, What’s your name?

Jack.

Jack what?

Just Jack, he answered.

My name is Dillon or Mr. MacDonald but please don’t call me Marse or Master, you can call me Mac if you wish, many people do! He said this with a smile but emphatically.

Jack just looked confused.

As they approached the plantation house Sam noticed Dillon had a questioning look about him so he added, Don’t worry, Jack knows enough to feed and bed down the horse.

I just wondered, Dillon replied.

Later Sam told Dillon that slaves don’t always have last names. They often use the name of their owner.

When they came to the front door they found it locked. There was a large knocker with which Scruggs rapped and very promptly they were looking at a middle aged black woman who invited them to come right in. She looked to be between forty and fifty years old and had a very pleasant air about her. Dillon liked her instinctively. She didn’t look like she was starving like some of the African slaves he had seen in Charleston. Her clothes were clean but not of good quality and she looked clean.

I’ve brought the new owner. Would you mind showing us around the house? Sam asked.

Sure Mass.