Slave (The Shame & Glory Saga) by Mundis Jerrold

Author:Mundis, Jerrold [Mundis, Jerrold]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Wolf River Press
Published: 2012-05-09T00:00:00+00:00

AMANDA, THE FOLLOWING AFTERNOON, heard the pounding hoofbeats before anyone else in the Great House; her ears had, after all, been straining to hear the sound for days. She sprang from her chair, crossed the room with little steps so rapid that she seemed to bounce, and pulled open the door, crying, “Richard’s home! Richard’s come back!”

Samuel sighed, a low elongated sound, the kind a tired man makes at the end of a hard day, knowing that he can sleep now. He had heard nothing, but he did not doubt that Amanda was right; he had never known her to be wrong so far as Richard’s return from a trip was concerned.

Samuel pushed himself up from his chair.

Maybelle said, “The hero has come home, having conquered, I’m sure. Now he’ll take the burden from you.” She patted Samuel’s cheek.

Samuel gazed at her blankly. “What burden?”

She had learned not to trust him when he looked thus.

“Why, the plantation, honey. I can see that it’s wearing you down something awful having to run it all by yourself.” She stroked his shoulder and moved closer to him. He was aware of the odor of the perfume she had dabbed in the cleavage of her breasts. “Poor, tired muscles.”

Now they could hear what Amanda had heard, the galloping horse drawing nearer. A couple of blacks were shouting the news.

Samuel looked at her decolletage.

Maybelle smiled, increasing the pressure of her hand on his arm. He did not return her smile. She tried again. Empty moments passed. Her cheeks reddened. She snatched her hand away and spun on her heel.

“Richard’s almost here,” she said. “We should meet him when he arrives.”

“Yes,” Samuel said, and now he smiled.

Amanda was standing beneath the portico. Her mouth seemed softer, and her lips were slightly parted. Her small, wide-set eyes were narrowed as she watched the approaching rider.

Richard took his hat off and waved it back and forth over his head as his mount devoured the remaining distance. He reined it to an abrupt halt. The horse danced a few steps, blowing noisily through its nostrils. Its flanks were lathered with sweat.

Richard’s face was streaked with dirt. There were dark circles under the armpits of his shirt.

“It’s over,” he said. “It’s all over, as of ten o’clock this morning!”

He tossed the reins to a young black and he dismounted, stiffly.

“My poor baby,” Amanda said. She gathered him in her arms. “What have they done to you?”

Richard kissed her. “I’m fine. Really I am. Just fine. Nothing that a bath won’t repair.”

Samuel recognized the boy’s pose, recognized the young animal pride and the desire to be praised. It was justified. The hunt had been hard. Samuel walked forward and extended his hand.

“Welcome home, son.”

Richard grasped his hand strongly.

“Was it terribly, terribly difficult, Richie?” asked Maybelle, face half hidden by her fan.

“His name is Richard, dear,” said Amanda. “My Richard has never been called Richie since the day I gave birth to him. You do have trouble recalling that, don’t you?”

“It seems

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