Authors: Al Lacy
“How about Johnson?”
Benjamin’s eyebrows raised in surprise. “Really? You want me to have the same last name as you?”
“Sure.”
“Dan … I would be very proud to carry your name.”
“Good. We’ll go into town tomorrow and talk to Judge Carstairs and make it legal.”
“Wow! Wait till I tell Dorena about this!”
Dan grinned. “Now that we’ve settled that, there’s something else I need to discuss with you.”
“Yes?”
“Since the ranch has done so well, and we’re adding to our herd because of the demand for beef … I want to make you my partner.”
Benjamin’s mouth fell open. “Your partner! Dan, I don’t know what to say!”
“Well, just say yes. As my partner, you will reap the financial benefits. Your cabin is all finished and ready for you and Dorena to move in. You will receive a fair percentage of the ranch’s profits and
will make a good living far beyond what you have been earning on a cowhand’s salary. How about it?”
Tears spilled down the black man’s cheeks. He shook his head in amazement and said, “Truly, the Lord has blessed me, Dan. Beyond my wildest dreams. Of course I will accept your offer.”
“Okay, partner!”
“I’m going to write a letter to Dorena and tell her about all this. If I mail it in town tomorrow, it should reach her a day or two before I get there. And you know what?”
“What?”
“I’m going to tell her that since we’ve been corresponding by mail ever since I came here, she will be my mail order bride, just like Miss Tracie is yours!”
When Benjamin Johnson boarded the train in San Antonio on Thursday, October 1, he was deeply concerned about Dorena. No letter had come in answer to his latest one. It was now more than three weeks since he had received her last letter. As the train rushed down the tracks toward Houston, he prayed fervently, just as he had repeatedly for the past week, asking the Lord to keep His hand on Dorena and to correct whatever problem she was facing.
When Benjamin arrived in Charleston, be rented a horse and buggy with the spare money he had saved up in addition to the 400 dollars ransom money.
When he drove onto the Moore plantation, his heart quickened. There was no one in sight at the front of the mansion, so he drove around back and parked at the porch. He saw a few slaves who waved at him then quickly moved away.
He mounted the steps and crossed the porch to knock on the back door. His knock was answered almost immediately by Lewis Moore, who snarled the words, “What do you want?”
“I want to see Master Charles,” Benjamin said, knowing full well that Lewis knew why he was there.
Lewis came out the back door, causing Benjamin to step back. He walked past Benjamin, and went down the steps to stand by the buggy. Benjamin followed him.
“And what did you want to see my father about?” Lewis said, fixing the black man with eyes of malice.
“You know what I want to see him about. You were there when Master Charles gave me the written guarantee that I could ransom Dorena for 400 dollars whenever I could pay it.”
“Well, that guarantee doesn’t count anymore.”
Benjamin stiffened. “What are you talking about? I have it right here in my shirt pocket.” As he spoke, he drew the folded paper out and put it in front of Lewis’s eyes.
Lewis laughed. “Like I said, it doesn’t count anymore.”
“Why? Your father is a man of his word.”
“My father
was
a man of his word. He’s dead.”
Benjamin’s chest tightened. “Dead?”
“Yes. He died a month ago. Upon his death, I became master of the plantation. The day after Pa’s funeral, I sold Dorena.”
Panic beat through Benjamin like the frantic wings of a frightened bird. “Sold her! To whom?”
“A slave trader named Jock Webster in Charleston. I saw Webster that next week, and he told me he had sold her to some plantation owner in the western part of the state.”
Benjamin blinked angrily. “Why did you sell her? You had no right to do that!”
An expression of amusement tilted the corners of Lewis’s mouth. “Sure I did. Like I told you, I’m master here now.”
“I want to talk to Miss Evelyn.”
Lewis eyed him with hostility. “Wouldn’t do you any good. She has no say about what goes on with the slaves. Besides, there’s nothin’ to talk about. Dorena’s gone. She belongs to someone else now.”
“What about her family?”
“They’re still here, but you can’t see them. Get in that buggy and
go. I want you off this property right now.”
Benjamin squared his shoulders, anger alive in his eyes.
“If you don’t go immediately,” Lewis said, “I’ll call for the overseers. They’ll escort you off. But they might break a few bones before you reach the road.”
“What plantation owner has her?”
Lewis broke into an evil laugh. “I have no idea. You’ll have to find her yourself. And I hope you don’t.”
With lightning speed, a rock-hard fist lashed out and slammed Lewis’s jaw. He hit the ground six feet away and lay flat on his back, unconscious, while Benjamin climbed in the rented buggy and drove away.
At the kitchen window, Evelyn Moore—who had seen and heard it all—looked at her son lying in the dirt and said, “Good for you, Benjamin!”
Two hours later, Benjamin drove westward out of Charleston. He had learned from Jock Webster that the plantation owner who bought Dorena was Russell Cobb. His plantation was near the Georgia–South Carolina line. Benjamin had gone to the man who rented him the buggy, asking for permission to drive it to Barton. The man refused, saying that he would sell him the horse and buggy. Benjamin had no choice but to buy them, which cost him 150 dollars of his ransom money. Praying for help from the Lord, he headed for Barton.
Russell Cobb sat Benjamin down on the porch of the mansion after hearing his story. Asking for his manumission papers to make sure he was a free man, Cobb said, “Young man, I’m sorry to tell you this, but I don’t have Dorena any more.”
“Where is she?”
“I sold her to a plantation owner friend of mine over in Louisiana. Name’s Laird Milburn.”
Benjamin shook his head in frustration. “Why?”
“Well, let me explain. I had sent a letter to Jock Webster, telling him I needed a new house slave for my wife. When he brought Dorena to us, my wife and I were taken with her beauty and sweet countenance. We were both concerned about the sadness we saw in her eyes, but we bought her anyhow, figuring we could make her happy.
“Dorena did an excellent job for us, but she never cheered up. My wife tried to find out what was bothering her, but she wouldn’t say. As far as her work, there was nothing to complain about, but her sadness was hard to live with day after day. This went on for two full weeks. We knew it wasn’t going to work out. Then one day Laird Milburn was in the area and dropped by to see us. I told him about Dorena. He asked to see her and bought her immediately, saying she was perfect.”
“Perfect for what?” Benjamin asked.
“Well, it just so happened that Laird had been looking for just the right wife for his prize slave, Zanu, who is the son of an African tribal chief. When Laird laid eyes on Dorena’s beauty, he knew he had found the right one.”
Benjamin’s stomach turned sour.
“I felt good about selling her, because I figured this might be exactly what Dorena needed to erase the sadness in her eyes. You know … having this prime slave for her husband. I’m sorry, but I knew nothing about you. She must have given up that you would ever be able to find her.”
“Mr. Cobb,” Benjamin said with shaking voice, “where is Mr. Milburn’s plantation?”
“It’s near the town of Bogalusa, in eastern Louisiana. But you’re probably too late. They might already be married.”
Benjamin thanked Cobb and left in the buggy as twilight closed in around him.
At the Milburn plantation, three miles south of Bogalusa, Dorena lay on her cot in the small cabin she shared with three other young
women. Moonlight flowed through the windows while her companions slept. For Dorena, sleep had come with difficulty ever since she had been sold by Lewis Moore to slave trader Jock Webster. She hadn’t even been able to tell her family good-bye.
And now, here she was on the Milburn plantation with a wedding staring her in the face. Her skin crawled at the thought of the times she had been brought face-to-face with Zanu, in Master Laird’s presence, so they could get acquainted. Her heart belonged to Benjamin. It made her sick to think of being some other man’s wife. Her new owner had not set the day that she and Zanu were to wed, but she knew it would be soon.
Dorena wiped tears as she thought of Benjamin, wondering what he had done when he arrived at the Moore plantation and learned that she had been sold.
“Dear Lord,” she whispered, “I know that You are the great God of the universe. There is nothing You cannot do. I am begging You to please deliver me from this terrible situation and bring Benjamin and me back together. Please, dear Jesus. Please let Benjamin find me and take me with him before this horrible wedding takes place.”
It was midmorning when Benjamin careened his buggy off the road and headed down the lane toward the Milburn plantation. As he drew near the mansion, he looked for slaves working about, but no one was in sight. He wondered where they had Dorena.
Suddenly, a man with a revolver on his hip was hurrying down the steps of the mansion’s porch, waving his hands and shouting for Benjamin to stop.
Benjamin drew rein and said, “Sir, my name is Benjamin Johnson. I have come to talk to Mr. Laird Milburn. Will you take me to him, please?”
The overseer frowned. “What’s a slave doing with a horse and buggy?”
Benjamin handed the man his papers.
When the overseer handed them back, asking what Benjamin wanted to see Mr. Milburn about, he explained briefly about Charles Moore’s guarantee that he could purchase Dorena so he could marry her and showed the man the written document.
As the overseer was digesting this information, Benjamin said, “Has the wedding taken place yet?”
“No, not yet.”
“May I see Mr. Milburn, please?”
“He’s not here. And even if he was, you couldn’t see him. He has no time for this kind of thing. He bought Dorena to make her Zanu’s bride. That’s that. Now, you turn around and see how fast you can get off the property.”
“Sir, I only ask for a bit of human kindness here, and—”
The overseer drew his revolver, cocked it, and lined the muzzle on Benjamin’s face. “I said get off the property, and I mean it. Turn that buggy around right now and go! Or I’ll shoot you!”
Despair washed over Benjamin as he looked down the black muzzle of the gun. In his heart he asked the Lord to do something for him quickly. He could not give up.
Immediately, they heard the pounding of hooves and the rattle of a carriage. Benjamin looked behind him and saw a distinguished-looking man with silver hair sitting in the driver’s seat. Seconds later, the man drew the carriage to a halt, looked at Benjamin, then at the overseer, and said, “Mack, what’s going on here? Why are you pointing your gun at this man?”
“He’s a free Negro, Mr. Milburn,” said Mack. “He came here to talk to you, and I told him you don’t have time. He got stubborn about it, so I put the gun on him and told him to leave. He’ll only be trouble.”
“So what did he want to see me about, Mack?”
When the overseer told his employer the story, Milburn looked at Benjamin and said, “I’m sorry about what happened at the Moore plantation, young man, but I have already told Zanu that Dorena will be his wife.”
“Please, sir. Dorena loves me. She would not willingly marry another man.”
Milburn smiled. “You’re right about that, son. She has been protesting vehemently about the wedding, saying she was promised to a free Negro man.”
“Mr. Milburn,” Benjamin said, “I am asking for some human compassion. I am asking you to allow me to purchase Dorena so she can become my wife.”
Chuckling, Milburn said, “Mack said you were going to pay Charles Moore 400 dollars for her. I paid Russell Cobb 500 dollars.”
“Well, sir, I—”
“She’s not for sale! She is to be Zanu’s bride.”
Praying in his heart for God’s help, Benjamin said, “Sir, I am asking you to reconsider forcing her to marry Zanu. She is a slave. But as a human being, doesn’t she deserve some happiness?”
Milburn studied him. “Tell you what. If you can cross my palm with 1,000 dollars right now, I’ll consider selling her to you.”
Benjamin showed him the 250 dollars he had left, explaining about having to buy the horse and buggy. He knew he could get the other 750 dollars from his partner in Texas if Milburn would give him the time to get it. He was offering to give Milburn the 250 dollars as earnest money when they heard a loud roar of excited voices coming from behind the mansion.
“The contest is already in progress, Mr. Milburn,” Mack Ottwell said.
Looking that direction, Milburn grinned. “So how’s it going?”
“Well, before I came out front to spell Luke Braden a few minutes ago, Zanu, Leonard, Cecil, and Bernard had eliminated eight other slaves. Cecil and Leonard are about to compete right now. Zanu will compete with the winner of that match, and then the champion will be declared.”
Milburn grinned. “Mack, you and I both know Zanu is going to win.” Then turning to Benjamin, he said, “I like you, young man. Come with me.”
Benjamin hopped out of the buggy and Mack Ottwell holstered his gun. Leaving Ottwell behind, Milburn ushered Benjamin toward the rear of the mansion. As they walked, Milburn explained that periodically the male slaves had a contest to see who could lift the heaviest load of cotton bales onto a flatbed wagon. The winner got bragging rights until the next contest. Zanu had only been there for one previous contest and won it hands down. The other strong men had determined to beat him this time.
“The reason I do this,” said Milburn, “is that the contest gives some excitement to the slaves and a little break from their work. They’re easier to handle for some time after a contest.”
When they reached the back, Benjamin saw a crowd comprised of overseers and slaves of all ages gathered in a circle near one of the barns. His eyes searched for Dorena, but he couldn’t find her.