Rosette's Freedom: Silver Foxes, #10

By M.R. Anglin

What does it take to become truly free?

Newly freed slave, Rosette arrives in Kingston with nothing but a little money and an old rain coat. She is determined to find her long-lost son and will do anything to seek him. The city is buzzing, however, as it tries to adjust to King Maximilian's new Emancipation Law and the flurry of excitement surrounding Queen Celeste's preparations for her husband's upcoming birthday celebration. Not to mention the anticipation of the soon-to-be born prince! Rosette immerses herself in the city's bustle, scraping to make a living while concocting a plan to find her son.

But with her abusive ex-lover hot on her tail, can she escape him long enough to find her son and discover what it means to be truly free?

• Language: English
• Publisher: M.R. Anglin
• Release date: Jun 7, 2021
• ISBN: 9798201732141

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

IF YOU DON’T HAVE A ticket, you will have to leave. A security guard paced the train station’s waiting room. His boots clopped on the tile floor and echoed across the enclosed space. This area is for paying customers only.

The sound of his booming voice stirred the light red vixen curled up on one of the chairs. She straightened herself, stretching to relieve the kink which had formed in her back, and surveyed the place. The security guard who had woken her, a dark colored coyote, gauged the customer area and went to each person waiting there.

Rosette rubbed the sleep out of her eyes. She was fifty-five years old, and her brown hair and red fur were peppered with gray. The dress she wore was half a size too big for her, her shoes too small, and she had an old man’s coat draped over her to ward off the cold.

Her back twinged in pain, and she hissed in a breath while she arched it. The seat she had been sleeping in had not been kind to her muscles and bones. Even now, she felt the chair frame through the padding and couldn’t avoid sitting on splotches of old gum plastered on its blue upholstery. But it had been one of the best out of the fifteen others in the row of chairs.

The train station smelled of old food, new food, and unwashed people. Not a pleasant bouquet to wake up to. Trash, newspapers, food wrappers, and old food had been littered all over the floor. Hand prints, scuff marks, and dirt smudged the walls, and peeling paint revealed splotches of brick underneath the white veneer. The door leading to the city was shut tight, which was a good thing. Winter had been grueling this year, and the temperature outside had been hovering below freezing.

Rosette wrapped her arms around herself and shivered as she watched the guard approach a mink sleeping on the floor. The heater grumbled on, but for some reason the train station kept the temperature only a few degrees above the outside temperature. Still, it was warmer inside than outside, and both customers and the homeless used this waiting area as a refuge from the cold.

The guard bent down and shook a mink sleeping in the corner. Come on. Time to go. Paying customers only.

The mink, his fur matted with dirt, looked up at him, stretched, stood, and walked away without a sound. Rosette gave a sad smile as she watched him go. She’d seen him when she had arrived at the station late last night. Four times, a guard had chased him away, but he went to a different spot until another guard chased him from there. How sad to be pursued like that. She was glad she had a ticket.

The guard approached her next. Can I see your ticket?

Can you tell me when my train is leaving? Rosette handed it to him.

The guard examined the ticket and raised an eyebrow at her. Funny. He handed it back to her. You have to leave now.

Rosette gazed at her ticket. The words printed on it meant nothing to her, but she knew it was good enough to get her to her destination. Please. Her coat fell from her lap as she stood. To the unsuspecting she looked as homeless as the mink. I need to get to Kingston. No more trains were running when I came in last night, but I need to know where and when my next train is leaving.

"You are in Kingston." The guard pointed to a sign on the wall.

Rosette didn’t bother look at it. I am?

Didn’t you know?

No. Thank you so much. Rosette gathered her only belongings: an old man’s rain coat as well as a plastic bag with her money and a change of clothes in it. I’ll remember your kindness, Mr. . . . She narrowed her eyes to read his badge in the dimness. Carlon . . . I’ll have to remember. With a smile, she scurried outside onto the street.

And emerged in the glorious city of Kingston, Citadel of Kings, the place which held all her hopes and dreams.

Almost there, she muttered and took her first steps onto the city streets.

CHAPTER 2

Joyful Arrival.

HE CARRIED THE YOUNG vixen—barely 20 years old—over the threshold and set her down on her toes. As she stepped into the house, she gazed around his home. A set of stairs ascended to the second floor right in front of her. He had a family room to the right and the kitchen beyond it. In the family room sat a couch and a coffee table with a rug underneath it.

Welcome home, Rosette, he said.

Rosette lifted her eyes to the fox who loved her. This is where you live?

"This is where we live." He gripped her close and jerked her to his side in a rough hug.

Rosette giggled.

I’ll show you around. He took her hand and led her through the house. It’s small, but . . .

I love it.

This is the family room. He gestured around the open space. I’ll get a television soon enough, but there are other more important things I’ve got to buy first . . .

Rosette leaned her head on his shoulder as he slid one of his strong hands further around her waist. What a handsome fox he was—the most handsome in the town of Caridon . . . at least in her opinion. He towered over her, with amber eyes which sparkled when he looked at her, striking red fur, and reddish brown hair he kept in a tussled mess. She always had to fix it for him.

Do you see? Rosette? He shook her elbow.

It’s wonderful. Rosette closed her eyes in bliss. It didn’t matter what he was talking about. Everything he said was wonderful.

He pulled his arm from around her and stepped in front of her to peer in her eyes.  Are you happy, Rosette?

Of course. Rosette gave him a big smile. I’m with you.

I’m going to take care of you. He gripped her hands in his. You will never have to worry about leaving a home ever again. I won’t ever give you up. I promise you.

Rosette’s heart bubbled with joy. After a lifetime of being shuffled around to different places, finally, someone loved her. She could barely believe this had happened to her.

The kitchen is over here. He gently pulled her through the door.

Rosette took one last look around the family room as he led her into the kitchen. It looked like he had picked up the house, but there were wood shavings all over the floor and dust on the furniture. Made sense, he did like carving wood pieces in his spare time. In fact, the hair clips she wore had been made by him. He spent hours carving intricate designs and inlaying various types of wood into a carved, wooden base, resulting in a pieces with variety of colors and textures. Several times, jealous women offered hundreds of dollars for them. But she’d never sell. They were hers . . . precious mementos made for her by her love. And her love needed someone to take care of him.

She leaned her head on his shoulder. She would take care of him—the first and only person to ever love her. It was the least she could do to repay him for it.

CHAPTER 3

A BLAST OF AIR, SO cold it stung her eyes, slammed into Rosette when she stepped out of the train station. She wrapped her coat around herself, teeth chattering, as she looked around to get her bearings. 

Hover cars honked, and buses whizzed by on the paved roads of Kingston. Lines of people rushed passed on the sidewalk, and piles of snow were heaped on the verges, out of the way of passersby. Old newspapers, coffee cups, gum wrappers, cigarette butts, and other debris were being pounded into the salted, wet ground by dozens of booted feet. The sky was gray and resembled a low ceiling over the city. It would probably snow again later.

Rosette clutched her plastic bag and joined the crowd. They bumped, cursed, and rushed passed her, as she wandered the city, gazing at the buildings towering toward the sky. Her head spun at their heights. Never in her life had she been anywhere like this—with so many people bustling by and so many buildings stretching so high. Shop windows displayed beautifully warm woolen coats, dresses, and nicely pressed suits. It all invited her to come in closer and join in the hustle.

So, this is Kingston. Rosette spun around, a grin spreading on her lips. Who would have thought she could have made it to such a wonderful place on her own? Not her. She still didn’t even know how she had gotten the nerve to take the money and make her way here. But somehow she had. She was so glad she did.

One of the shop displays caught her attention. A mannequin wearing a black and blue sweater dress took up the window space. The store owners had completed the look with a shoes, a purse, and a warm maroonish-purple coat. Rosette pressed her hand on the glass as she peered at the outfit. Such clothes . . . so beautiful. But she could never afford anything like them. The money she had taken from home was almost gone, and she needed something to eat. Food was more important than replacing the faded dress she wore.

A snowflake landed on her nose. Looking up, she saw white flakes start to drift from the sky. It was snowing—like she thought it would, though she didn’t expect it so soon. She’d have to go without and hope her son wouldn’t mind her appearance. After all, it was him she had come to this city to see.

Rosette stepped away from the window and hurried down the sidewalk. She had to find a way to locate him today. It was too cold to be wandering around the city without a place to stay.

CHAPTER 4

A Bitter Departure.

ANY LOVE SHE HAD FOR the fox sitting next to her had been replaced by deep hatred. He was the fox who had given her sincerest pleasure and her most devastating pains. He had trampled upon and knocked her heart about for so long, she couldn’t feel happiness anymore. He was malicious, cruel, and evil. How she could have ever loved him, she couldn’t fathom.

But he was the one in control of her life.

As much as she despised him, she couldn’t leave him. She could endure anything if she could be with her son.

She turned to the fox and waited until he looked up at her. He sat in an old, wooden chair on his wooden porch, staring down the dirt driveway flanked by overgrown grass at least waist high. His right arm, which rested on the chair’s armrest, had a scar running from his wrist up to his shoulder, but it was covered with a long-sleeved flannel shirt. The injury left his hand unable to open properly so, it remained constantly half-closed . . . like a claw.

Rosette hated that claw.

What? he said, without looking up.

Is there anything I can do to change your mind?

He faced her, his amber eyes narrowing. I warned you, Rosette.

Rosette felt her entire being drop. I didn’t do anything.

Then why does my son hate me? His glare pierced her.

Why not look in the mirror? was what Rosette wanted to say, but it would invite instant retribution. Instead she averted her eyes. He doesn’t hate you.

He only grunted.

Rosette turned her eyes back to him, glimpsing his profile. He looked like the same handsome fox who had loved her, but how had he changed so much? Was there anything left of the fox she knew?

What about your promise? Her voice, choked with emotion, came out just above a whisper.

A spasm of some sort of emotion passed over his face . . . sorrow? Anger? Regret?

Rosette couldn’t tell. Pressing his lips together, he leaned back in his chair, making it squeak. Where are they? He looked at his watch.

Rosette hung her head. It was over. All day, she had pleaded with this fox to change his mind. Over and over she had tried to explain her side of the events leading up to this moment. But he wouldn’t have it. That was the last straw, he would say. So now it was over. So much for his promise.

A black car pulled onto the driveway and drove up to the house. A badger in a black suit stepped out of the car followed by a gray cat.

Finally. The fox . . . this horrible, disgusting fox . . . stood to greet his visitors.

Rosette took a deep breath and prepared herself to leave. She had no belongings—not even the dress she wore. She was leaving as she came . . . with nothing . . . nothing, except her pride.

She would not shed another tear in front of him. She’d shed enough trying to convince him—until she realized tears was exactly what he wanted to see. Having hurt her in every way he could, he planned to crush her in the only other way he had left. She wasn’t about to give him the satisfaction of a tear-filled departure, begging and pleading to the end. She’d done enough. It was time to walk out of here with her head held high . . . with dignity.

Here’s the rest of the payment. The badger handed the fox some money.

And here are her papers, said the fox to the badger. 

With that, he was no longer in control of her life.

Rosette didn’t even spare a glance in his direction. She followed the cat to the car. As she approached it, head held up high, she heard something which made her heart quail.

Mama!

She swung around and saw a trail being pushed through the overgrown grass. In a moment, her son tumbled out of the lawn, carrying a bouquet of something green. At seven years old, he already looked so much like his father—same red fur and hair—but he had inherited her bright, blue eyes. Those eyes rested on her and widened. He dropped the bouquet on the ground and darted toward her.

All of Rosette’s dignity fell by the wayside as she watched him sprint to her. She had sent him away to get parsnips or pumpernickel or something because she didn’t want him to see his father selling her to strangers . . . didn’t want him to see how worthless she really was—able to be bought and sold on a whim.

Mama, where are you going? He grabbed her hand, his blue eyes darting to the stranger. What’s he doing here?

You said he was upstairs, Rosette. His father snarled at her.

Rosette didn’t acknowledge him. She faced the badger who was now in control of her life. May I say good-bye to my son?

He tossed her a shrug. Make it fast.

Rosette knelt down, and pulled her son into her arms. She held him close . . . so close she could smell the lemonade he must have spilled on his shirt. It would be something she would miss. Tears slid from her eyes. So much for not giving him satisfaction.

I got the parsley, Mama. Her son pushed her off and ran to where he had dropped it. After he brushed it off, he presented it to her, his smile wide. 

You were so fast too. Rosette took the parsley from him. You were faster than I expected.

I ran all the way there and all the way back. He took her hand and pulled her toward the house. Come on. You have to make dinner. I’ll help you.

I can’t, honey. Rosette pulled her hand from his grasp. I have to go with these people.

Why? Her son looked up at them. Why are you taking her away?

The badger stood there, crossing his arms, while the cat cleared his throat and looked away.

Sweetheart, listen. Rosette took his hands in hers. Sometimes bad things happen, and . . . Her voice gave out. Tears streamed down her face.

Mama, what’s wrong? Her son wiped her tears with his hands.

Rosette jerked him into a hug, wrapping her arms around him. I love you, sweetheart. Nothing will ever change that. I will always love you.

Mama . . . Her son’s voice carried a whimper in it.

Enough of this! His father grabbed her son by the shoulder, and tore him from her grasp. Take her away.

Come on, now. The cat took her by the elbow. Rosette allowed him to help her to her feet and lead her to the car.

Good-bye, Max. Rosette said over her shoulder.

His father bared his teeth at her. His name is Marvin.

Rosette stepped away without a response. It didn’t matter if she called him Max or Marvin because she would never see him again. Actually, it did matter. Never again would she call her son by his father’s name—not even in her memories. He was and would always be Max to her.

Mama! Max called to her, his voice strained. Glancing at him, he saw him struggling against his father’s hold. Mama, come back! I’m sorry. I’ll be good! I promise! I’ll be real good. Don’t leave me! Please don’t leave me!

Rosette turned her back to him to hide her tears. When she got into the car, she gazed at Max out of the window. He had gone limp in his father’s grasp, tears running down his face. His lips still called to her, though.

The car reversed down the driveway, drove onto the street, and carried her out of sight of her son. Burying her face in her hands, tears flowed through her fingers and onto her lap.

Yeesh! said the badger in the front seat, If I had known she was a mother, I would have docked the price.

I hate those tearful goodbyes, said the cat.

At once, Rosette stopped crying. Gathering the remainder of her dignity, she determined never to let anyone see her tears again. As for Marvin—the fox who had once loved her—she’d never forgive him for this.

Never in a million years.

CHAPTER 5

CELESTE EASED OPEN the door to Max’s office and peeked inside. The space featured marble flooring Max made sure was kept clean and polished, wooden columns with fruit and animals carved into the surfaces, a leather chair Max had been favoring lately, and a large, black chair she used. His mahogany desk, set right before the window overlooking the city, had been carved with swirls and carvings of animals. A bit