Page 100 of Frankly, My Dear

The next afternoon, Selene and her ten students were sitting in the grassy plot Rufus had cleared in the front of the plantation house. She stacked their math papers in front of her, satisfied with all they’d accomplished that day, both in their morning session and again after lunch. Selene’s heart swelled with pride at the children’s enthusiasm for learning and her recognition that she had a talent for teaching.

“Can we sing the name song again?” Etienne asked.

Selene ruffled his hair and was inordinately surprised when he didn’t immediately pull away. “Sure. Who wants to start?”

“Me! Me!” Hollyhock lisped through her two missing front teeth.

“Okay, Holly, you start, and we’ll all repeat the refrain. Then we’ll continue around the circle, like we did before.”

The little, wiry-haired girl stood and sang out merrily, “Holly, Holly, fo folly, fee fie, fo folly. Holly.”

Cain stood as Holly sank to the ground with a giggle and began, “Cain fain, fo fain…” His words trailed off in mid-sentence as his eyes widened with fright, staring over Selene’s shoulder. The other children gasped and whimpered, pulling closer to her skirts.

Confused, Selene stood and turned around to see Jake Colbert, the overseer to James’s father, Jean-Paul. He was docking a flatboat on the bayou landing. James had pointed him out to Selene at the slave auction in New Orleans.

Colbert and two other brutish looking men jumped off the boat, leading a half-dozen vicious, barking bloodhounds in front of them on long leashes. Dreadful, who had been sleeping at her feet, raised his huge head, saw the loudly snarling canines approaching, blinked several times in disbelief, then had the good sense to take off with a flying leap for the safety of Blossom’s kitchen.

“It’s a slave patrol,” Etienne informed her, moving to her side with touching protectiveness.

Colbert and his men moved up the incline toward them, barely able to keep the frothing dogs under control. When they got closer to Selene and her students, who cowered behind her skirts, Selene could see the cruelty in the overseer’s thin lips beneath a huge drooping mustache and in the white-knuckled fingers of his right hand, which flexed on the handle of a knotted whip, almost with anticipation.

“Where’s that bitch, Fleur?” he asked Selene without any introduction.

“Who?” Selene answered evasively.

“You know damned well who, missie, and don’t you be lyin’ to me.”

Selene raised her chin haughtily. “You’re trespassing here, Mr. Colbert. Besides, Fleur is a free black…a placée. You have no right to seek her out.”

His evil eyes narrowed craftily and he spit tobacco juice on the ground with deliberate disdain. “So the bitch is hidin’ here. Well, let me tell you somethin’, missie,” he said, poking her in the chest with the handle of his whip, “I hear you got a bit of the blood in you, too. You’re nothin’ but a high yaller yourself. You kin be put on the auction block same as Fleur. Papers don’t mean nothin’. Victor owns Fleur, and he kin own you, too. Best you accept that.”

Then his eyes lit on the children surrounding her. “What’re you doin’ with these pickaninnies?”

Selene clenched her fists, and her lips curled contemptuously. “These are my students, Mr. Colbert.”

“She’s teachin’ niggers,” one of the men exclaimed with outrage. “Wait till they hear ’bout this back in Nawleans. Not only is Baptiste freein’ his niggers, now he’s givin’ ’em an ej-e-ca-tion, too.”

Selene ignored the man’s words and directed her attention to the overseer. “I would suggest that you wait here in the yard, Mr. Colbert, while I send someone for Mr. Baptiste.” Her eyes raked each of the men in turn, settling on their muddy boots. “I don’t think Mr. Baptiste would want you to come indoors.”

“You’re right about that,” James said in an icy voice.

Selene turned to see him approaching from the fields, along with Fergus and several of the black workers. They all carried raised rifles.

James’s eyes connected with hers for an instant. When assured that she was safe, he indicated with a wave that Selene and the children should go inside. She heard angry words being exchanged behind her, but she wasn’t really worried about James’s safety in this instance. Colbert and his buddies were outmanned.

The viciousness of the times stunned Selene, though. To read about slave patrols in a history book was one thing; to actually witness the sadistic practice was quite another. Her heart wept for the poor slaves subjected to this demeaning travesty of justice—to be hunted down like animals.

Selene’s head swam with conflicting emotions. She wanted to race back and stand at James’s side, to fight off whatever adversities came his way. And she wanted nothing more than to slip back into the future and her nice, uncomplicated life.

It wasn’t really much of a mental fight. Selene knew she would never be happy without James, whether away from Bayou Noir at another plantation or in 1996 New York City.

Two people who cared about each other…and there was no question in her mind that James cared…should be working together to solve their problems. Not running away from them.

Selene had three days to convince James not to foist her off on the Collins family. Tears of frustration welled in her eyes. She had no idea what to do.

Well, maybe she needed reinforcements…back-up forces, so to speak…if she was going to launch a full-blown attack. Hmmm. She tapped her chin thoughtfully as she and the children entered the kitchen where Blossom and several slaves sat whispering nervously, jerking involuntarily anytime one of the bloodhounds barked in the distance.

“Children, I have something to tell you. We will only be able to have classes for three more days. Mr. Baptiste is sending me away on Sunday,” she announced firmly for all to hear.