22. EPILOGUE
Patricia and I hung side by side, all day long, suspended upside down from bound ankles ... arms extended ... fingers almost touching the ground ... slowly rotating ... nude bodies sheened by the summer heat with glistening sweat.
A crudely fashioned placard, nailed to the gateway crossbeam from which we were suspended, stated simply and boldly in large block letters "RUNAWAYS ".
As the hours dragged by and the temperature rose, we lapsed into and out of consciousness. I was vaguely aware of teams of slaves gawking at us as they passed by on their way to and from the fields, and of the occasional horse-drawn wagon, slowing to have a closer look and then speeding away and covering our sweaty bodies with clouds of blinding dust.
I was also aware of the intense physical and mental strain of hanging upside down for so many hours ... of the sensation of blood flowing to my head ... of the never ending strain on leg, back and neck muscles ... of the persistent pain emanating from my cruelly ravaged backside ... and of my parched throat, cracked lips, and mounting thirst.
Toward the end of the day ... I remember it well, because it happened at a lucid moment ... Master Charles came out to check on us. He said not a word, but knelt to caress my face with the back of his hand, slowly rose to fondle my breasts and trace his index finger over my taut belly before resting the palm of his hand on my mound. He hesitated for a moment; then he moved on, presumably to do the same to Pat.
I may have passed out at that point, but when I came around I found myself staring at two pairs of upside down boots ... belonging to Master Charles and the Sheriff. The two men were engaged in earnest conversation.
"Charles, I know what's been going on between you and these two. That's the cause of all the trouble. Sarah is jealous of them, as she has a right to be, and persecutes them. You have to stop, or eventually it will lead to their deaths and then all the money you spent on them will have been thrown away. I don't think you can afford that with the drought the last few years."
There was a silent moment. I looked up and saw Charles nodding.
"I'm going to tell you something that is just between us. Tell anyone about it and I will make life miserable for you. I was young like you once and my marriage wasn't perfect, just like yours." He pointed at Pat. "She was beautiful in those days. She still is. She worked at the tavern and I fell hard for her." he pointed at me. "She is the result of that."
"I always wondered why Barb looked so much like Sarah," Charles replied. "It makes sense now."
I turned my head to see if Pat was taking any of this in. She was. Her eyes were wide open, and there was a look in her eyes ... I don't know of what... but quite unlike any that I had ever seen before.
Their conversation continued.
"The best thing you can do, son, is to send them away. It's the only way to save your marriage and get some of what you paid for them back. I have a good friend who owns a mine and he needs workers very badly. He'll give you a good price for them. The best thing you can do for yourself, Sarah and for me is to sell them to him. Will you do that?"
The last thing I remember before slipping into unconsciousness again was that Charles had agreed, declaring that the money sounded good and that the departure of Pat and me from the Plantation would certainly lessen the strain for him of having to live with Sarah's jealousies.
The two men shook hands and walked away.
Patricia and I hung side by side, all day long, suspended upside down from bound ankles ... arms extended ... fingers almost touching the ground ... slowly rotating ... nude bodies sheened by the summer heat with glistening sweat.
A crudely fashioned placard, nailed to the gateway crossbeam from which we were suspended, stated simply and boldly in large block letters "RUNAWAYS ".
As the hours dragged by and the temperature rose, we lapsed into and out of consciousness. I was vaguely aware of teams of slaves gawking at us as they passed by on their way to and from the fields, and of the occasional horse-drawn wagon, slowing to have a closer look and then speeding away and covering our sweaty bodies with clouds of blinding dust.
I was also aware of the intense physical and mental strain of hanging upside down for so many hours ... of the sensation of blood flowing to my head ... of the never ending strain on leg, back and neck muscles ... of the persistent pain emanating from my cruelly ravaged backside ... and of my parched throat, cracked lips, and mounting thirst.
Toward the end of the day ... I remember it well, because it happened at a lucid moment ... Master Charles came out to check on us. He said not a word, but knelt to caress my face with the back of his hand, slowly rose to fondle my breasts and trace his index finger over my taut belly before resting the palm of his hand on my mound. He hesitated for a moment; then he moved on, presumably to do the same to Pat.
I may have passed out at that point, but when I came around I found myself staring at two pairs of upside down boots ... belonging to Master Charles and the Sheriff. The two men were engaged in earnest conversation.
"Charles, I know what's been going on between you and these two. That's the cause of all the trouble. Sarah is jealous of them, as she has a right to be, and persecutes them. You have to stop, or eventually it will lead to their deaths and then all the money you spent on them will have been thrown away. I don't think you can afford that with the drought the last few years."
There was a silent moment. I looked up and saw Charles nodding.
"I'm going to tell you something that is just between us. Tell anyone about it and I will make life miserable for you. I was young like you once and my marriage wasn't perfect, just like yours." He pointed at Pat. "She was beautiful in those days. She still is. She worked at the tavern and I fell hard for her." he pointed at me. "She is the result of that."
"I always wondered why Barb looked so much like Sarah," Charles replied. "It makes sense now."
I turned my head to see if Pat was taking any of this in. She was. Her eyes were wide open, and there was a look in her eyes ... I don't know of what... but quite unlike any that I had ever seen before.
Their conversation continued.
"The best thing you can do, son, is to send them away. It's the only way to save your marriage and get some of what you paid for them back. I have a good friend who owns a mine and he needs workers very badly. He'll give you a good price for them. The best thing you can do for yourself, Sarah and for me is to sell them to him. Will you do that?"
The last thing I remember before slipping into unconsciousness again was that Charles had agreed, declaring that the money sounded good and that the departure of Pat and me from the Plantation would certainly lessen the strain for him of having to live with Sarah's jealousies.
The two men shook hands and walked away.
