Josie's Prize Book One

By Liz Reyes

Josie is a bold, vivacious, curious young woman whose lust for life is greater than the confines of her world. The daughter of a slave and a plantation owner's son, she is raised among the other slaves. Ignoring her paternity and her fair skin, her grandfather sees only the color of her mother's heritage in

• Language: English
• Publisher: Unexpected Spark Studios
• Release date: Jun 7, 2024
• ISBN: 9798869356444

Book preview

And the angels heard them sing, but it was not a praise to God...

It was a song of passion, a song of love thanking the Lord for each other…

CHAPTER 1

STREAMS of light escaped through the cracks and holes of an old lean-to house that stood at the edge of a cotton field. It was past dusk, the time of day when shadows played tricks on the world. Peeking through one of the holes were two girls—best friends who always got themselves into mischief.

Bea was the daughter of one of the slaves. She was lucky in that her parents were permitted to live together—although that could always change. The other girl waited impatiently for her turn to look. She, too, was the daughter of a slave, but this girl was different. This girl was fairer of skin and could easily be confused with the daughter of the house. Josephine was the 12-year-old bastard child of the plantation owner’s son; everyone called her Josie. She had the expressive eyes of a Raphaelite angel that were the color of twilight. Her heart-shaped face was thin and sometimes gaunt. When she smiled, her face would light up, exposing little doll-like teeth. Her hair fell in brown cascades of curls down to the small of her back.

Josie was a mischievous child by nature, curious about insects, caterpillars, and butterflies. She couldn’t understand how an ugly ole caterpillar could turn into a beautiful butterfly, no matter how often it was explained to her.

Oh my! Oh my goodness! Looky there, Josie! Bea cried with fear. Hearing Bea, Josie pushed her aside and put her eye to the crack in the wood. It was her turn to look, and she was not going to miss a thing even if it was still Bea’s turn. She couldn’t miss it!

Josie’s mother Camille was standing close to the rickety homemade bed, holding a towel in her arms. Quaily, one of the house slaves, lay upon the bed with her legs spread apart and was hollering.

I don’t want no baby! Get it outta me! They heard Quaily scream as she grabbed the sides of the bed.

Only way for that to happen is by pushing, girl, now push! Camille replied.

Bea sat with her arms crossed over her flat chest, annoyed that Josie had pushed her.

Bea was a pretty girl with skin as black as ebony. She had been told that she had a beautiful profile, and so she always tried to turn her head to the side. Her eyes were large and brown as coffee. Her full lips were naturally pouted. She was not very tall and had a small frame, but her body was muscular. Her ears were small and pressed against her skull.

Bea pursed her lips and crossed her arms with a huff. Why you suppose she be screaming and hooting so much? Bea finally pushed herself up and dusted herself off. She decided that she was not going to be angry at Josie. Josie would win, and what was the use being angry with her if they were best friends anyway?

How am I supposed to know? I don’t know everything, Josie replied nastily. I suppose it do hurt. It’s like trying to push a watermelon outta your body. Wouldn’t you scream if you had to push a watermelon outta your skinny ole body? Josie convincingly said. She rolled her eyes, acting as if she were annoyed. But in all truth, Josie didn’t know what was happening to Quaily either. She pressed her hands against the wooden shack and continued to watch. Moments later, her eyes widened in wonder.

Oh my goodness! she whispered as she watched the baby being born. Josie pushed herself away from the cabin, overcome by what she had just seen. Her breaths came quick, amazed how the baby had been born. She turned swiftly to the wall to get another look.

What?! What you see, Josie?! Bea couldn’t wait any more, and so she pushed Josie away from the crack in the wall. Josie fell to the dusty ground.

It’s my turn, Josie, you know it! Bea was in time to see the baby covered with mucus and blood. She drew away from the wall, shook her head, and turned down her lips with repulsion.

I don’t take kindly to you pushing me. I’m gonna beat you if you do it again. Bea cringed and shivered hearing the threat. As an afterthought, Bea added, And I’m gonna set them dogs on you. Bea turned and stuck her pink tongue out at Josie. So there! Bea turned back to the hole.

Offended by Bea’s words, Josie said, Ain’t I your best friend, Bea? How you gonna set them nasty dogs on me if we’re best friends?

Bea shivered and stepped away from the cabin wall, no longer curious about child birth. Nasty business that baby birthing, ain’t it, Josie? Both girls cringed, their eyes big with the experience they had just seen.

Real nasty business, Josie added. I ain’t gonna have no babies. Yuck. Josie stuck out her tongue and shivered. Her thin body shook with a tremble, suddenly feeling cold. Now, what were you saying about setting them dogs on me? Josie’s hands were set on her small hips. Her kerchief fell off her head, exposing her beautiful head of hair. Bea’s hair was braided tight to her skull with small braids. She reached forward and touched Josie’s soft hair and couldn’t help wanting to braid it.

Don’t touch my hair after what you said about them dogs, Bea. But Josie made no effort for Bea to release her messy hair. She always enjoyed when Bea braided her hair. And since she enjoyed it, she let Bea smooth back her hair, part, and braid it.

I’m the only friend you got, Josie, and you sure are nasty. You push me. You don’t let me peek when it’s my turn, and then you say you gonna beat me silly. Now I can’t even touch your pretty hair. Bea continued to braid her hair.

Josie sighed, enjoying the attention. She made no attempt to stop Bea from braiding her hair.

You’re so right, Bea. I’m a selfish little piglet, but I seen the best of the birthing, Josie laughed wickedly.

Bea dropped Josie’s hair hard against her back.

Who cares?! That’s the ugliest baby I ever seen anyway, Bea added, making Josie laugh all the more. Ugly! It was kind of gray, too! Bea reconsidered and gave the situation some thought. Josie, you think we can get to hold that baby?

No dummy ’cause we ain’t ’pose to know about no baby, Josie explained. We best be getting home before Mama finds out we been peeping in on our neighbor’s.

The girls dusted themselves off as they walked away from the cabin.

I see you tomorrow… Josie and Bea parted ways, each girl rushing off to their own cabin.

Josie lost track of time, lingering as she walked home. When she finally got home to the cabin, Camille was already there.

Josie and Camille lived in a small cabin on the southern plantation, Spanish Oaks, 50 miles west of Charleston, South Carolina. Its location made shipping cotton convenient for the owners.

It beautiful gardens were the pride of the plantation along with its masterful home. Many garden parties were held at Spanish Oaks, simply to show off its scented flowers. A light breeze carried the scent of the prized pink cabbage roses that were in bloom. The roses had been brought all the way from England.

Josie knew exactly which flowers had bloomed and just how many jasmines were about to open their fragrant petals. She did not appreciate the wonderful perfume; in fact, she hated the scent and hated each flower. Her task at the plantation was to mix manure with soil so that the roses and other flowers could grow. Sometimes, she and Bea did this task with their bare hands. The owners were so generous that they had Bea and Josie mix manure so the other plantations could take some away. The girls were experts on how much manure and soil were needed for the garden.

Josie opened the door and quietly walked in.

Where have you been? Why aren’t you washed up already? Camille asked while poking a small fire she had started.

I…I was playing with Bea. Yes’m…that’s what I was doing… She hurried to lift a bucket of water onto a small homemade table that was made for that purpose.

"Hold it right there, young lady. How often have I told you, have I asked you, not to peep in on the other slaves?! Camille was very upset that her daughter had broken the only rule they could live by. We don’t have much privacy as it is, and to have someone spying on another slave is wrong. And you know that!"

Having been caught, Josie was lost for words. She stood straight and blinked her eyes quickly, looking from side to side.

What are you talking about, Mama? I didn’t do nothing! Josie knew exactly what her mother was saying. Someone had seen them, Josie suspected. Camille drew a deep breath, trying to calm her temper as her daughter lied.

And now you are standing there, lying to my face! Josie’s eyes grew wide. She pursued her lips together like a clam. We found Bea walking past the cabin door. Her mother grabbed her by the arm, and she told us what you both did!

Josie’s eyes grew wider, knowing she had been caught in a lie. Lowering her head, she kicked the dirt floor, and after a moment, Josie decided to tell the truth instead of lying some more to her mother.

I didn’t mean no harm, Mama. I was just…just curious. I don’t ever peep in on the other slaves, but since Quaily was having her baby, I didn’t think she would mind at all. I’m getting big, and I got to know some things. Josie looked up at her mother who had a wooden spoon in her hand. Camille kept slapping a wooden spoon in her hand in a menacing way. Josie suspected she was about to use that spoon. Getting hit with the spoon was going to hurt. Camille had never spanked her daughter before, but there was always the possibility of a first time. The fact that Josie seemed more like an eight-year-old child than a girl who was about to turn thirteen prevented Camille from scolding her more. Josie was small for her age. She reached her mother’s upper waist, both parents being tall. She was twelve years old and had not grown. The lack of food kept her small, but Camille did not lose hope of her daughter growing soon.

I know you didn’t mean any harm, Josie, but you mustn’t do it again. You must promise and keep that promise this time, Camille said sternly.

Yes’m…

"And a yes Mama sounds better."

Yes’m Mama, the petrified girl repeated. I promise, Mama. I promise so big that… Josie caught herself about to lie again. Her small flat chest heaved with the effort of breathing. A smile appeared, and she decided against telling a fib that would get her in more trouble.

A regular promise, Mama. I won’t do it again, Josie sincerely said. It was a crucial moment, Josie knew. She could still get hit with the wooden spoon.

Very well, Josie. After a moment’s thought, Camille asked, Josephine, did you see Quaily having her baby?

Josie nodded, admitting her guilt. Me and Bea, we seen her having her baby. We took turns looking through the crack in the wood.

Camille put down the wooden spoon and turned toward her daughter. It was time. She had to talk to her child about adult things.

One day, her baby is going to grow up, and it might be taken away from them and sold. One day you could be taken away from me, too. Cold fear raced through Josie’s body, a fear they constantly lived with: being sold.

No, Mama, don’t say that… She rushed to her mother and wrapped her arms tightly around her. Reaching up, Josie pushed herself up onto her toes and covered Camille’s lips. It was a reality that was not often spoken about in their tiny cabin home. It was a truth they all lived with, including Camille and Josie. Camille lowered Josie’s hand from her lips.

It could happen, Camille said, softening her voice. I really don’t know why you haven’t been taken away from me, especially since we know how Old Master feels about us. We’re slaves. It’s a reality we must accept and live with. Anything could happen. Love is the only thing we have. It’s the only thing we carry with us forever. These masters can’t kill that. They can tear us away from each other, but they can’t steal love. Don’t make fun of love or people who are in love."

Josie didn’t care about what others felt. She only cared about her mother. That was her love, the only love she cared about. I’ll really be in a fix if they sold you, Mama. What would happen to me? Where would I find you if you were taken away?

Camille kissed the top of Josie’s head. They were together today and didn’t know about tomorrow.

I couldn’t tell you where to look or where to find me if we were separated. Just behave. Stay out of trouble and stay out of Old Master’s way. He doesn’t like you. Camille reached for an old towel and placed it over Josie’s shoulder.

Yes’m, I know that, Mama.

Now go and wash up.

Josie finished lifting the bucket onto the small table. Once this was done, she lowered her arms into the clear cold water. She felt refreshed and cool the moment she did so. Cupping her hands, she filled them and splashed water on her face. She washed her upper chest and her underarms, as her mother had taught her.

I’m so hungry I can eat a cow. Water dripped from Josie’s chin. Camille reached and wiped the drip with a smile. Camille pulled a ragged old sleeping gown over her head. She then uncovered a cracked plate and handed it to Josie.

Cake! You stole cake for me? Josie smiled broadly, glad to have the treat. It wasn’t often that a treat was brought from the main house, and to see it made her happy.

No, your father sent you his desert. He wanted you to have it. There’s a bite missing, but it was taken with love. Now eat up. Small bites so you can taste it all. Camille then placed half cup of milk beside the plate.

Milk… She took great care in lifting the cup. Not a drop could be spilled of the precious liquid. It wasn’t often that she drank milk.

Camille observed her child. Her golden skin and her ocean blue eyes would get Josie in trouble one day. This was Camille’s biggest concern. Perhaps it was why they hadn’t sold her. None of the other plantation owners would buy a girl that looked so much like a niece or a daughter. She couldn’t hide the girl since she had to work for her keep, too. Camille watched Josie lick her fingers one at a time and drink the rest of the milk. She was so skinny it worried her.

Do you feel better?

My tummy full, Mama. Thank Master Mark for me, quietly of course. Don’t want that mean Miss Iris making a fuss over a little piece of cake and some milk.

I will, now off to bed. We have to be up at sunrise. Camille kissed Josie good night and watched her hop into bed. Camille covered her daughter with a patched quilt Bea and Josie had sewn together out of rags.

God bless us and may we never be parted. Let the angels watch over us in our humble home.

Josie fell asleep almost instantly, tired from working in the garden.

Camille took a moment and sat on an old rocking chair that stood next to the fireplace. The chair squeaked with every movement Camille made. She sighed, feeling the weight of her problems on her shoulders. Her beauty had brought her the problems she now had. Even now, she had retained that beauty: skin the color of pale caramel, eyes as green as the sea after a storm, high cheekbones, refined nose, and full lips. Her waist was still small and her breasts full. If she had looked like a rag, no one would have noticed her, and perhaps today, she would have been a free woman. But would she have Josie?

No, I wouldn’t have my bundle of joy, so it’s better to be where we are. At least we’re together, Camille whispered, trying to make sense of her thoughts, trying to justify where she was in her life. But deep in her heart, Camille didn’t want to be where she was. She wanted to be free.

Looking down at her once beautiful hands, Camille noted the cuts, scars, burns, and blisters that came from working in the kitchen. Camille lifted the heavy pots, and sometimes she would burn her forearms, which were also covered in dark marks. Excelling in the art of cooking was the only reason Camille had not been sent into the cotton fields.

She proved on numerous occasions that she could cook the Creole meals that New Orleans was famous for. Foods like jambalaya with shrimp, codfish fritters, stewed gumbos, pecan pie, and butter cake. Her owners boasted that she made the best sangria in the south. Yes, Camille skills were highly utilized in the kitchen.

Still, her back was scarred with deep whip marks that served as a reminder of who was the real the master of Spanish Oaks. Matthew Cooper whipped Camille into submission and bent her will. Camille’s humiliation continued when he paraded her from plantation to plantation on the back of a buck board, chained and with her hands tied. It was his intention to warn the neighboring plantations not to help her if she ever ran. Camille never ran. The old man planted fear in Camille when he whipped and raped her at his pleasure. She learned never to look directly into his eyes, and she never lifted her head when he was around. It was what he wanted, and Camille could not endure another whipping. She stopped defying him, and the Old Master became bored with her submission. He preferred her when she had more spirit. Once he was through with her, he pushed Camille onto his son Mark. He expected his son to continue the abuse.

When Mark Cooper accepted Camille, she was bruised, beaten, and near starvation. Her mouth was so swollen that she could hardly part her lips to eat. Mark scooped her into his arms and took her to the cabin where she now lived. He sat her on a broken chair and closed the cabin door. Camille hung her head and folded her hands on her lap. Mark handed her a plate of mashed potatoes with butter, but she pushed away the plate, preferring to die. Afraid to look into his eyes, Camille kept her eyes lowered and her head turned away. Mark lifted her chin and looked at her. When he reached for her, she jerked away. He simply wanted her to look at him. Camille did not, turning her face away.

I am not my father. I am not going to hurt you. You can look at me. He took small pieces of potato and pushed it into her mouth. Camille in turn, pushed the food out. She whispered, Die…

Mark smiled. He picked up another small amount of food and put into her mouth and said, Live. I won’t let you die. I want to know what you look like. I think when all that swelling goes down and I see what you look like, you might be a pretty girl. I’ve seen you from afar, but I would like to see you on my own terms. In the meantime, I’m curious. You’ve got stunning green eyes. I’ve never seen more beautiful green eyes, even if they are bloodshot. He smiled as he spoke.

I can tell a pretty woman when I see one. Giant tears rolled out of Camille’s swollen eyes. She chewed the potatoes he fed her. Go ahead and eat something. Don’t die. Dying is easy. Show me that you have the courage to live. Mark Cooper watched as Camille slowly chewed the food. He continued feeding her with his own hand.

He stole some ice from the ice house and used it to bring down the swelling on her face. It took time for Camille to recover, and during that time she started to trust Mark. He had a bed brought to the cabin for her and started a fire in the fireplace.

Camille stayed in bed for almost two weeks. During that time, he started to see what a gem she was. The swelling went down, but the bruises lingered. Slowly, her beauty gradually returned. Mark did not force himself on her as Camille feared. He left her alone. There had been enough abuse of her body; there was no need for more. He hoped that in time, she might accept him.

As she healed, Camille helped Auntie May. With a huge white rag tied around her head, Camille washed and ironed sheets. It was hard work, too hard for her, but she did as she was told. Mark suggested they put Camille in the kitchen to work. This would keep Camille out of the punishing sun. It was Mark who boasted that Camille was a good cook. Lies, of course, for he didn’t know. It was Auntie May who told Camille what to do and how to put the food together. Camille took over from there. She had always been interested in cooking. When she lived in New Orleans, she helped the cook who shared many of her secrets.

Mark knew that falling in love with Camille would be dangerous. He went to her cabin every day. As they became acquainted, feelings for her started to grow in his heart. She was an intelligent woman who could read and write. She was articulate and refined and spoke fluent French.

Mark knew that his feelings for her would not only get him in trouble. They would also get Camille killed. Mark made a bold move when he asked his father to hand over the deed of ownership. Only then would Camille be truly his.

Are you bedding that whore? It’s why I gave her to you.

Yes, Father, of course I am. I don’t feel that I have to prove that to you. I am a man, and there are certain things that a man keeps to himself. Mark lied to his father. He wanted Camille to come to him of her own free will. But old man Cooper refused to give him the documents. Mark knew his father was suspicious, and he had to be careful. If old man Cooper discovered that Mark was in love with Camille, he would sell or kill her.

One evening, Mark expressed his feelings to Camille. It was something she suspected. His feelings for her were no secret. She was grateful that he had not forced himself on her and that he treated her decently. Camille thought it was charming when he told her how he felt. With time, and not rushing her, they started to explore each other, and one night they became lovers.

Mark would go to her cabin in the evenings and did not return to his own bedroom until late at night. He also made sure that his father saw or heard him. The old man made vulgar comments if his sainted wife was not around.

Three years into their relationship, the fruits of their love appeared in the form of Josie. It was not an uncommon thing for slaves to have their master’s children. Mark and Camille were excited to receive their child. What was unusual was that this love child was born fair like her father, with blue eyes that matched his. She had soft chestnut colored hair. Camille broke into tears when she saw her baby. She had expected her child to be like her, darker of skin, but this was not the case.

Camille expected Mark to help her runaway with their baby, but Mark did nothing. He shoved his hands into his pockets, intimidated by his father. Money was not as accessible to him as she had thought, especially now that everyone knew he was in love with the slave girl. Mark didn’t need money since everything he wanted and needed was given to him.

Mark’s excuse was that he loved Camille too much to send her away. Camille suspected that Mark was too afraid of his father to help her escape with their baby. There was also the fact that Mark had recently married Iris Beaumont, a young woman from the neighboring plantation. Iris had heard rumors about Mark’s affair with the slave woman, Camille. She had also been told about their child, Josie. There was going to be a change Iris promised Mark’s family. She would not permit Mark to go near the beautiful Camille again, and that was final.

CHAPTER 2

ANNA Cooper Beaumont was standing in the corridor in her petticoats with her hands on her hips. She was seven years old and terribly spoiled.

Ain’t I told you not to come outta your room in your petticoat?! Ain’t you learned nothing yet?! Auntie May took a swing at Anna who let out a wail. Get into your bedroom and close that door!

But Anna raced past her, straight into her father’s arms. Mark had stepped off the landing and had walked into a storm of feathers. Mark lifted Anna up into his arms and held her to him.

Daddy! Auntie May wants to spank me! Giant tears rolled down her cheeks. Mark knew his daughter was great at theatrics. Anna sniffed loudly and lowered her head onto his shoulder. She wants to turn me over her knees and spank me! Anna hiccupped loudly and lifted her head off his shoulder. She looked into her father’s dark-blue eyes.

Auntie May was devoted to everyone in the house, but she especially loved Mark. Mark lowered Anna to the floor and turned her toward Auntie May. You are to apologize to Auntie May this instant for being naughty and nasty. This very instant, young lady, and if she sees it fitting for you to get a spanking, it is because you deserve it! His voice was loud enough to put some fear into the child.

"Go on or I will be the one spanking you, Anna."

Pursing her lips, Anna walked toward Auntie May and said, I’m sorry for being nasty. She then stuck her tongue out and ran off. Mark straightened up and looked at Auntie May. They both expelled a breath, knowing his mother and wife ruled the house.

She’s gonna be trouble, Master Mark. Ain’t nobody gonna control that child.

I’m sorry, Auntie May. You spank her if she needs it. There’s not much I can do.

She lifted her hand and patted his cheek as she had done when he was a child.

It ain’t your fault, child. She got that bad blood, seems it skipped you. You look tired, Mark. Ain’t you been sleeping well, honey?

He gave her a half smile. No. I was up all night, pacing, smoking, and drinking, he confessed, running a hand through his chestnut colored hair, hair that matched his daughters. He was going gray for a man who was only thirty-three years old, but in his circumstances, many desires and dream were still unfulfilled. He hadn’t been too surprised by the gray.

You gonna die young if you keep on drinking and smoking, Master Mark.

Oh, but to be embraced by the womb of sweet mother earth… Mark paused, regretting what he said. My misery will be over, and then I will be a happy man.

Hush! I won’t have you talking like that! Devil could hear you. Your day will come, son. The time for you to be happy will come when you least expect it. Now what you gonna do about that daughter of yours?

Mark sighed at the mention of his daughter. He raised a brow and shrugged a shoulder. Which one? he asked. Auntie May’s large chest rose and fell with fear of what he had just admitted. As far as anyone was concerned, he only had one child. He realized what he said and exchanged a glance with Auntie May.

Anna, she the only daughter you got, sir.

He nodded and pushed his hands into his pocket, feeling defeated.

Of course, what was I thinking? Ah…nothing. Talk to her mother. Let Miss Iris handle the situation. She is bringing Anna up to be a young lady. I have no say in the matter. Let her mother and grandmother handle her, Mark said, indifferent to the matter of Anna. He struck a match under his shoe and lit a thin cigar. He blew a thread of blue smoke from his lips.

You was such a good child, and you’re a good man. Don’t let’m step all over you.

I’ve tried fighting back. I’m just a ghost in this house. Hearing a door open and close, Mark walked away from Auntie May. We’ll talk another time about Anna’s behavior.

Auntie May was disappointed with his attitude. She wanted him to put up a fight, but he wouldn’t. She made her way to the railing and pressed her body against the fine mahogany wood she had so often polished. She watched Mark start walking down the staircase.

It’s too bad you had to marry that pale-faced, sickly Iris, she whispered harshly down to him. Mark looked up but added no comment, afraid it might be overheard. Iris; the thought of her made him sigh. No, he certainly did not love Iris.

As he started down the steps, he saw Josie walking up with Anna’s dress in her arms. Josie smiled brightly the moment she saw Auntie May.

It’s about time, Josie! Only took you forever to get here! Auntie May hollered over the railing. Josie’s smile broadened when she saw Auntie May bending over the rail, her big breasts pushed against the railing. Josie was about to say something when she saw Master Mark walking down the stairs. She had been warned to avoid him at all costs. Avoiding him today would be impossible. Josie’s heart was beating swiftly at the sight of him. Not knowing what to do, she lifted the dress over her face and closed her eyes.

Mark held back an urge to laugh when he saw Josie trying to hide from him. It was not often they crossed paths. Camille did a good job of keeping Josie out of the house and out of his way. She was his first child and a very special part of him. He could see himself in her small features, so much more than Anna, who looked more like her mother. Not Josie, you knew she was his child when you looked at her.

He couldn’t remember the last time he had seen her. A ghost of a smiled appeared on his lips when he saw her dark blue eyes peek at him from behind the dress.

Mark Anthony Cooper, it just ain’t right what is happening under your own roof! Look at that child trying to hide from you, Auntie May’s voice rang down the steps.

Mark turned toward Auntie May and put his finger to his lips. We are not getting into that again. Josephine is staying with her mother, and that is final. There is nothing I can do about it right now, he said in a harsh whisper.

Yes they is! she whispered back, slamming the palm of her hand on the railing. You can take her under your wing and protect her like a little bird. Mark pointed a finger at her. Auntie May in turn let out a loud, "Bahh!" Turning away, she disappeared into the confusion of the upper floor.

Josie moved up a few steps, trying to slip past Mark. Hold it right there. Who are you hiding from?

Josie’s crooked little finger came from behind the dress and pointed at him. Mark lowered the dress and leaned forward. She had his blue eyes, stubborn chin, and his mouth. She looked so much like him that it made him proud to see her.

I’m hiding from you, suh, Josie’s head was turned down in a sign of respect and fear. She kept her voice very small, not wanting her voice to be heard throughout the house.

And why is that, Josephine? he asked. Josie lowered the dress a bit more and searched her father’s face. She furrowed her brow in the same manner that he did.

How come you know my name? she asked even though she knew the answer to the question.

It is my responsibility to know everyone on Spanish Oaks, Mark replied. She lowered the dress, and he saw her.

"But you know my name. You know who I am." It was not often that father and daughter spoke. Her voice was beautiful. It sounded like a string of violins. The expression in her eyes was saintly, and when she looked up at him, it touched his heart.

Mark purposely stayed away from his daughter, as he had been warned to. He kept his promise only because his father was staying away from Camille and his child. There were moments when Mark feared for their lives. He stayed away in order to protect them. He felt helpless, not knowing what to do. He didn’t have the experience of a more worldly man to handle the situation, and so in this, he failed them.

Well, you are a special little girl who belongs to a very special friend of mine.

Josie leaned forward and whispered, My mama you mean? He nodded. Josie moved a little closer and sniffed the cologne on his skin. The scent made her head swirl, and the memory of that moment became firm. She didn’t know very many people who smelled that nice. It made her think of the sun and the grass that grew wild along the river. Mark observed her smile. He wanted very much to take her in his arms and hold her. He wanted to smooth her hair away from her face and tell her that everything was going to change, that he would make everything better. But he couldn’t. He couldn’t make such promises.

Go and give Auntie May that dress before she spanks us both. Mark smiled when her eyes became big. Josie lifted her hand and covered lips to stifle a laugh.

She can spank you, too? He nodded. Mark patted the top of her head and heard her giggle.

She spanked me plenty of times for getting into trouble and tearing my trousers at play. Go and take the dress up to her. Mark started down the stairs again. He turned to look at her once more, not knowing when he would see her again. As he was walking down, he noticed her bare feet.

Why aren’t you wearing any shoes?

Josie turned to look at him. My shoes, they’re outside, Master Mark. Got ’em all fulla mud, and seeing that this house is clean, well I just…just didn’t wanna get in trouble. She stepped down closer to him and added, Mama would give me a good licking if I got in trouble and so would Auntie May. Josie stuck out her thumb and pumped it up toward Auntie May. He couldn’t help laughing at her gesture.

Your dress is ragged and torn. I don’t like seeing you this way. Mark touched the sleeve of the rough homespun fabric. He suspected it scratched her skin.

This here is my work dress. She lifted the sides of the dress, showing him how terrible it really was. "The only work dress I got. I got one more dress I use only on Sundays, and that’s when we go to the river and talk to the Lord. I pick eggs, and feed the chickens, and wash horses. I pull the weeds in that big ole garden in this dress. Sometimes, them garden flowers got big ole thorns in them, and I has to pull ’em out my fingers with my teeth. It hurts." A moment ago, she was shy and afraid of him. She brightened up and was now talking to him as if she had seen him yesterday.

You are a little chatterbox. Mark smiled as he