Flight of Fancy: Cora's Daughters (13 page)

She sat unsure, gazing right back. “What I’m supposed t’call you?” She asked.

“Broc, that's my name – that suits me just fine.”

“I call you that in fron’of otha’ folks, they gone know somethin’ not right. Gone have t’call you Masta’ Broc.”

“Only in the south, only in front of other folks.” He clarified.

She stopped talking and started thinking again, then asked, “You gon’ wanna didle me soon, ain’t you?”

Broc smiled, “Yeah I am – you my wife, I plan on it – one day.”

She thought some more and then got quickly to her feet, “Emmm, ain’t gone be t’night tha’s for sho’.” She turned about to sprint for the tree when his voice stopped her, “The basket of food, don’ run off without it.” She stood at the tree looking back at him and then at the basket. Broc stood, picked it up and walked up to her holding it out for her to grab. “Here, take it up with you.”

He confused her and good.

She took it from him, looped the handle over her head, rotated the basket to hang over her back and put the handle in her mouth. Despite the shoes and clothing, even with the basket, she scampered up the tree almost as good as when wearing her soft moccasins.

Broc stood below, dazed, amazed and enraptured, watching her. Finding a good perching spot, she hung everything in reach, the basket, her bow and arrows, the harness and sheath for her dagger, leaving her whip in place on her hip.

Taking a bit of bread from the basket, she ate it, glancing down at him from above.

He didn’t see it, but she gave a slight smile and nod.

He turned away. Soon, only the crackling of the fire offered them background noise, with a hoot owl somewhere near – and the squeal of nocturnal forest creatures, they were both quiet.

Ever so softly, Asiza spoke, “How come you marry me?”

He’d been lying on his makeshift bed on the ground, head at the base of the tree, hat covering his face.

Content, because she was safely tucked up and away. He was glad that she could climb a tree, it made him feel better about falling asleep at night. It was a rule of thumb that he never slept deeply because one never knew. Having her now, would make it worse for him if she were on the ground where anyone could come up on them and see her.

He heard her softly spoken question, “I want you Asiza, that’s why. I want you all to myself – for me. Might as well be my wife, I don’t want the Lord mad at me. Got enough men hating me, don’t want the Lord salty at me too.”

She whispered back, “But – I’m a Negro woman, a slave.”

“You a woman Asiza, you a woman. One of God’s wondrous creations; everything He do – done right. An Lord’a’mercy, He made you well – yes he did, He made you
real
well. Me, I’m just a man. I
know
a good woman when I see one. That’s what I want, that’s what I got. Now… go’ta sleep.”

Asiza smiled in the darkness, for the first time in her life, she felt …
special
. No one had ever said that to her before, about what the Lord did. Hearing it gave her a good feeling in her heart – she actually felt...
pretty
for once.

Chapter Eight

“I’ah be bleedin’ in a few days, don’ wanna be ridin' then.”

She whispered softly, hesitantly - close to Broc’s ear as he lay waiting for the last dregs of sleep to leave him. The previous night, his brain would not turn off from the busy planning of where north they would go. North in direction of everyone else, or north into new territory, uncharted? North meant cold – harsh winters. Wherever they would be settling, they needed to get there as soon as possible. Winter was deadly if not ready for it. Considering that, he knew they would have to go where there was a population, a town. Had they met and set off early spring, things would be different, but it was too late in the season to enter uncharted territory.

Also, traveling by land was the slow means - they needed to travel by boat. They were closer to water and so they would head in that direction. He had plenty enough money to take care of all of their needs. The two-hundred-fifty in gold he’d gotten for hunting her down that first part of the job, finding her - had been completed to his way of thinking. Returning with her remains would have given him the second half. He, they - would do without it. Few had so much as that to start with, besides there was more stashed away from previous jobs. He had plenty for them to get a good start.

“Masta’ Broc, we need to get ridin’ fo’ I start t’bleed.” She whispered in his ear again. His head turned beneath his hat while on his back, squinting out from under through one eye - the sun wasn’t full up yet.

She sat legs crossed beside him, eyes big, staring and unsure of what the morning would bring.

Had she been alone, she would have been off by now.

“Ain’t smart t’stay in one place too long, got t’get movin’. I kill us two fat pheasants for when we stop lata’, we eat out that basket fo’now.” She gently whispered, “Get up now.”

He sat up, looking around the camp and then at her.

“Hopin’ you ain’t no lazy man, waitin’ fo’me t’do everythin’.”

He gasped, and fired back, “Hopin’ you ain’t no naggin’ woman, sure to drive me crazy 'fore we get goin’!”

“Ain’t naggin’ jus’ sayin’.” She screwed up her face, pouting.

“I couldn’t sleep, too busy thinkin’ about where we goin’.” He explained.

“Thought you say, north?” She put her hands on her hips.

“North ain’t no little place, up north spreads far and wide – there’s east and there’s west to figure on while heading north.”

“So what you figga’?” She asked, saucily.

Broc sighed, “We goin’ east – north-east – where it’s heavily populated. Up north it’s cold-…”

“How cold?” She asked, with concern, “I’on like no cold.”

“Freezin’ cold, snow, ice, blizzards – sometimes deadly cold.”

“Lawd, what I get myself inta?” She stressed with a hand wiping the side of her face, crinkling her brows, poking her lip out.

“Aye, ask him the same for me please.” He rose to his feet, his hand out to pull her up, “You got me up now, let us get started.”

She took his hand and he had her on her feet with little effort on her part, “Been t’the stream, gotcha fresh water fo’ washin' up and drinkin’.”

He stood staring down into her lovely clean face. Her short hair was even curlier this morning, slightly damp – he could tell that she’d bathed. “You got a lot done already this mornin’.” He mentioned – meaning for his words to be a compliment.

“I’da been gone already, ‘cept I got you t’see ‘bout you now.” She pointed out. His hand shot around to her back, snatching her body against his, shocking the breath from her, “And well you should, see to me. I’ah give you time – to get use to the idea, husband or master. In either case – I have more needs than fresh water in the morning and a fat pheasant.” His eyes roamed over her head.

Cutting her hair off did nothing to distract from one blazing fact – that she was indeed a fancy and for good reason. She could easily wear her hair this way, short as it was, waving and curling about her perfectly shaped head. Twirls and tufts of it framing her face – delicate little kiss curls flowing amidst the fringe of her hairline.

He longed to kiss her. His body hummed with the desire to press her tightly against him. He so wanted to show her the difference between him, and what he would have her feel over what she might remember from the disgusting things those beasts tried with her.

Her palms rest on his chest, arms braced to keep them apart, but their lower bodies touched, and she could feel him growing hard against her. She tried to move her belly away in an effort to keep
it
from moving against her. His arms around her were strong, hard and impossible for her to force loose. What kept them apart wasn't necessarily her efforts, but him restraining himself from pressing her close. Broc gazed down at her, trying to meet her eyes, but she kept looking down and away, “I see…” was all that he said in response to her silent actions, she wasn’t ready for this part of what it meant to be his wife, or even his possession for that matter. “…I’ah let you go for now, but a time is coming – when I intend to see it through.” He warned and released her.

Asiza could barely catch her breath. She felt flustered and overheated almost instantly from being pulled and held so snugly against his hard body. Her head buzzed from the rush – and most certainly, this was not the same feeling that took hold of her when the mayor and his friends grabbed her – this feeling was nothing like that.

This time, although her heart was hammering away like mad just as it had that night – fear and repulsion driving it – something else was making it pound away – even her stomach felt queasy.

She watched him turn from her to pour the fresh water over his head that she’d brought.  He poured it through his hair, onto his face – his large hand scrubbing over his scalp and skin, behind his ears. He took a few mouthfuls and squished it about as she always did, spitting it out. He did it once more and the last time, he drank it down.

He shook his head like a dog to expel the extra water from his hair, the shoulder length silk fell wet, sticking out on top.

She grinned and looked away.

“Somethin’ funny?” He asked and then flicked water at her from his hands. Asiza threw her hands up to block the sprinkles, “You wastin’ it – stop that!” She laughed and he poured more of it to splash at her, Asiza ran from him and he gave chase. She dashed and dodged to keep him from catching her, straight for other trees.

“I say stop that now – you need t’be drinkin’ that.” She scolded merrily and found herself suddenly captured once more, being lifted off of her feet against him. With a husky, low voice, he promised her, “It’s you lass, what I need a drink of, just’ you.” He was breathing hard, either from running or something else, she couldn't know, “...surely you won't mind a kiss… just a lil’kiss?”

He pleaded passionately, holding her high against a tree, taking her by surprise once more. His actions had her shaking by just the sheer power of him, the closeness of him, the heat from his body.

Trembling and nervous she reached her hand to him, smoothing his hair down over his head, her fingers combing into his auburn silk, “Don’ know how to – to kiss no man.” She admitted, with a gulp.

Right then his mouth rushed up against her’s, capturing her full lips, sucking them gently, tasting them. His tongue entered to part them, running over the surface of her teeth – he was breathing even harder. His chest sinking and expanding as his head turned releasing her soft lips for a second to re-capture them again. Pushing his body up and against her, he pressed her for a full kiss – unable to resist her a moment more.

Asiza mimicked his mouth on her’s, trying to do the same and breathe at the same time as his tongue thickened and penetrated to rub and wrap around hers. She had never been kissed and it was making her light-headed. The more she let him kiss her, the more aggressive his onslaught became. All of a sudden, he snapped himself out of it. He stepped back from her and she almost tumbled to the ground.

On wobbly knees she tried to stand up on her own, her eyes couldn’t help but go to that area of him. His erection was bold and plain to see. He moved away from her – breathing hard, “We been here… too long…” He murmured, standing, gazing at her a few moments. Watching her try and recover from his kisses. She hadn't a clue of how to be intimate with him – which told him a lot. His mind was ever on the question of just how far the mayor and his friends had gotten with her. Not that it mattered now, virgin or not, she was his to stay. “...let’s ride.” He rasped from his tight chest.

Nodding, Asiza reached up touching her moist throbbing mouth. She too took deep breaths as she rushed to Flower and climbed into the saddle. It was an effort keeping her eyes from him as she placed her hat on her head. Everything needed was loaded on each horse.

Broc climbed onto Nik-Nik, stroking his hair back with one hand while placing his hat on his head with the other.

“Asiza…” He called to her, she looked up at him from beneath the brim of her hat, “… as ya’husband, I will have you. Forget all that happened with that mayor, the rest – it don't matter. Soon as it’s right that I do, I’ah have ya’. You prepare yourself for that.”

She gulped, glancing off, waiting for him to lead the way.

Broc, snapped his reigns, and took off at a faster trot to get more distance covered. For the large part of that morning, they rode side by side, not a word muttered between them, lost in their own thoughts.

Suddenly she murmured softly, “They ain't have me – I ain't let'em.” Asiza felt a need to share that bit of information.

Broc glanced her way, “Glad to hear that, still would'nah made me no difference. When I married you – i's cause I wanted you – as is.”

Asiza's eyes turned back to the road. Both went quiet again with whatever thoughts were going through their minds. A while went by and to break the silence Broc began whistling, relaxed as he was in the saddle. Every now and then he would glance her way, surprised that she made no complaints. He also noticed, that she rode as if born to the saddle, prompting him to ask, “When did a slave, fancy learn to ride with such ease?”