Read Online Underground Captive by Elisabeth-Cristine Analise - Free Book Online Page A

check.  But he couldn't hide the disapproval on his face.
                       "Why are you frowning?  Is anything wrong?"
                       He gritted his teeth in irritation then swung his gaze back to the fields.
    "If ye have to ask, ye obviously can't see the wrong."
    Her ebony brows arched.  "Why, whatever do you mean, monsieur ?"
                       The sight of slaves on a plantation as large as this should always be expected.  But he could never temper the indignation that rose to the surface at the sight--or thought--of the Negroes forced to work in the fields.  'Twould do no good to explain what he meant to Nicollette.  She seemed oblivious to it all.
                       Jared laughed without humor.  "I mean yer cotton fields are endless, Nicki.  Take me to the cane fields now."  He wanted the touring of fields behind him.
                       " Non , I'm going to show you the northern and southern grounds first.  The cane fields run along River Road near the boat landing.  One of our most precious commodities, ice, comes in three times a week."
                       "Aren't we closer to the cane fields?"
                       " Oui , monsieur .  But I want you to see our grounds.  The land that isn't taken up by crops are really quite magnificent," Nicollette said with pride as they passed the carriage house and the stables.  "We have a dozen horses in there."
                       Beyond the stable eight dozen slave cabins stood in two long rows of closely built, white washed buildings with a dirt road directly in the middle.
    The first building in the line was the blacksmith shop, while far in the distance sat the overseer's house.  Apparently, it hadn’t been far enough away to stop Floyd Williams’s misdeeds.
                       The northern grounds of Crescent Wood gave way to grassy slopes.  Green meadows stretched like a glorious emerald carpet to a thicket of trees at the river's edge.  A clearing led to the steamer landing, where cypress knees, gnarled and regal, rose from the Mississippi. 
                       South of the manor, the front grounds of Crescent Wood held a profusion of flowers; a gazebo graced the path that led to the wide, sprawling steps of the manor.  Winter honeysuckles, chrysanthemums, and carnations gave off their own sweet fragrance into the clean, crisp air; the house, observed in all its graceful splendor, did justice to the unsurpassed beauty of its grounds.  It stood three stories high with eight massive, fluted Doric columns set twelve feet apart, enclosing three sides.  The first and second floor verandas rounded the corners on each side, as did the lacy iron grillwork banisters connected to the columns.  On the first and second floor, French doors and windows went along the same path as the huge columns.  Four large chimneys loomed out of the gabled roof.
           Magnificent, indeed, was this proud land that bred the passionate people of the Southern aristocracy, Jared thought as the horses strolled along the bridle path to the cane fields. His gaze swept over the group of Negroes spread out the length and breadth of the fields, their work hard and laborious.
                       "This is the grinding season, monsieur.   A time the Negroes cherish."
                       Jared's eyes narrowed.  "Really?  Why would anyone cherish being forced to do back breaking chores?" he asked with an edge.
    "Why, Monsieur Fleming, you sound offended," Nicki said, his contempt taking her aback.  "The work doesn't bother the Negroes.  They do it with great ease.  And when they're finished with their work in the sugarhouses, they get to eat many sweet treats.  They get to butcher hogs and PaPa gives them enough rum for each man and woman to have a cupful.  It's a