I was around seven years old when Daddy bought her. She was already big with child and he promised me the whelp when it was weaned. He bought her because he said that he needed a housekeeper since Momma was so frail and sickly, but I just think he liked her looks, even pregnant like she was. I know I did. I liked the dark chocolate of her skin and the soft look of her face. Daddy said that the whelp would probably be light-skinned because she'd been got by the white foreman. I kind of looked forward to having a pet of my own to play with. He warned me that it would be entirely up to me to make sure that it was bathed every day to keep it from getting too smelly, and make sure that it was fed and watered. He said that it would be a test for when I grew up and took his place. I eagerly agreed.

Daddy named the new wench Happy because he said that she was always smiling, and put her in the room next to his so she'd always be available. He said that it was so Momma wouldn't have to wait too long whenever she needed some help, but I knew it was so he could have her close should he want her. However, I didn't say anything. I just waited for my own little pet.

A couple of months later, I was awakened by the sound of bare running feet and hushed excited voices so I got up and stood at my door watching several house servants moving quickly and purposefully. I was still befuddled by sleep, but when Mammy Letty came bustling in, I knew that it was Happy's time. I got excited, knowing that I'd soon have my pet. It took a long time, though, almost ten hours before I heard a distinctive wail and rushed into Happy's tiny crowded room wanting to see it . . . my new pet.

"What you doing in here, Little Marsa," Mammy Letty exclaimed, "hie yo'sef back to bed. Yo' needs yo' rest, baby," she fussed trying to block me.

"It's mine," I waved her imperiously out of my way, "Daddy gave it to me afore it was borned and I wanna see it."

Daddy was in the middle of them all, his hands on his hips and staring down at the woman in bed. He was barefoot wearing just his step-ins and wrinkled, white undershirt. I could see his pants on the chair by the bed and figured he'd been getting his pleasure when she'd a-started. Hearing my voice, he turned, motioning me up beside him.

"Well, boy, it looks like she whelped you a little bitch," he smiled slyly and winked, "jes' wait'll she's 'bout eight or nine - lessee, you'll be 'round fifteen or sixteen - and I guarantee you'll be glad you got yo a little bitch."

At the time, I had no idea what he meant, but Happy turned to me, her eyes a pair of dark, liquid pools of satisfaction. When she saw me, she smiled and took the baby off her breast and held it out to me. I grinned like an idiot and took it carefully in my arms. The room went silent as I held it close and smiled down at the sweet little face. It was like when I got my first dog, I was instantly in love with it. It looked all red and a little purple, but Daddy assured me that it was light-skinned, otherwise it would have looked darker. It had such a cute little button nose that I just had to kiss. It's eyes were still closed, but it waved it's arms and it's tiny lips curved up in a tiny smile. Daddy said later that it was probably no more than an involuntary spasm or passing gas or something, but I laughed in pleasure just the same.

"Look, Daddy," I chortled, "it smiled at me!"

"I saw that," Daddy chuckled, "I think it knows it's yours and wants to let you know it likes you a lot."

I held my new pet for a few minutes more, nuzzling the soft cheeks and giving it little kisses like I'd seen Momma do with other picaninnies. It wailed weakly, waving it's arms and grasping air reflexively.

"Put it back with it's momma, son," Daddy said quietly, "you can come play with it later, it needs to suckle off it's momma."

"Okay, Daddy," I smiled happily, handing the baby back to Happy.

Daddy took my hand and we went on out. I was still dazzled by my new pet's good looks and couldn't believe how small and light it was.

"What're ya gonna call it," Daddy asked as we went into my bedroom.

"Don't rightly know," I shrugged, "but I kinda like Florrie, or maybe Candy," I shook my head, "I hadn't thought about naming it at all."

"Well, it don't have to be now," Daddy chuckled, "it'll be awhile afore ya gonna need to call it to ya. Just think on it some. It's yours so you got plenty time."

I only grinned as he tucked me in, watching the sun rise through my side window.

"I got a name," I called out to him as he was about to close the door.

"Oh?"

"Yeah. Seeing as how it was borned at sunrise, I think I'll call it Dawn."

Daddy looked thoughtful for a couple of seconds, then smiled and nodded.

"It's a right purty name," he nodded, "kinda fits, too. Yeah, Dawn it is. I'll tell Mammy Letty so she can put it in her stories."

He closed the door behind him and, in spite of my excitement, I fell sound asleep soon after.

---

Over the next few months, I hung around Happy, helping her feed and change Dawn's swaddling. I was fascinated by the way she was built and enjoyed touching her baby vulva and sliding my hands around her soft, yielding flesh, spreading her fat little lips and inspecting her little hole. Happy showed me some things, too. She spread the baby's furrow and showed me how to touch a tiny little nub and make the baby jerk with pleasure. Dawn for her part, loved all the attention I paid her and as she grew into a toddler, would always willingly strip for me to caress her. Daddy usually chuckled, shaking his head whenever he caught me caressing Dawn's nude little body. By the time she was a yearling, she played at my feet while I studied, following me around like a chick following a mother hen. Daddy was glad that I usually had Dawn with me because it gave him plenty of time with Happy. Happy herself was glad to have someone taking the baby off her hands because, in truth, she'd already raised a couple of babies and they were really trying on her, besides, she'd become truly devoted to Daddy as well. As Dawn got older and sturdier, she helped me carry my books and school things, running small errands for me and, in general, being my personal and body, servant.

I was about eleven or twelve when I discovered the real pleasures of self-stimulation. It seemed as if I'd always done something like it, but it wasn't until then that I really began getting into it. Dawn had watched me jack off many times, but it wasn't until then that I'd matured enough to make sperm. I loved the way it felt as I stroked myself.

Then one fine summer day, early in the morning - the bolls were ripening, but they hadn't yet begun popping open with cotton - I snuck away with my cane fishing pole and Dawn to carry my bait and tackle. We sat on the stream's bank, the butt of my fishing pole stuck in the black, loamy earth, leaning back, my hands behind my head. Dawn, mimicking me also leaned back on her hands as we chatted idly.

I'd accidentally seen Momma almost completely naked that morning as she got dressed for the day, saw her breasts swinging free, her large, pale-pink areola a canvas for her reddish-pink nipples, and it had gotten me all stiff and hard. Thinking on it, I unbuttoned my overalls and pulled out my pecker. It was nothing new to Dawn, she'd helped me dress many times, but she'd only seen my prick stiffen up a few times. I caressed it and, thinking of how good Momma's breasts had looked, slowly stroked it up and down. I had my eyes half-closed when I suddenly felt another pair of warm hands on my prick. My eyes flew open and I looked down at Dawn's pudgy little hands. With a smile, I let go and let my pet have her way. Actually, this was the very first time she'd ever touched my dick without a washcloth in her hand.

"Wanna help, Dawn?" I grinned.

"Uh-huh," she nodded vigorously, her teeth shining whitely in her dusky face.

"Just wrap your hands around it, girl," I guided her hands to grip it, "a little looser," I loosened her tight grip, "uh-m-m-m, yeah, that's my girl," I sighed, holding her hands gently, "now up and down real slow, okay?"

She nodded, her pink tongue gripped between her lips.

"That's a good girl," I sighed, "that's the way."

She scooted a little closer, her arms tiring.

"Don't stop, girl," I sighed.

"My arm gittin' tired," she whined.

"I'll smack you if you stop," I threatened, but in spite of that, her little arms flagged.

I sighed and took her small, brown hands in mine, replacing her hands on my prick with mine.

"Here, sit aside me," I directed.

She quickly scooted up beside me and I put her hands back on my stiff prick. She bent forward, gripping it softly and stroking up and down.

"Easier now?" I sighed happily.

"Um-hm," she nodded.

It still felt a little awkward so I stopped her again and shifted her around several times until I hit on it. I raised my knees and planted my bare heels against my butt and had her squat between them, facing me with her little hands wrapped around my stiff prick.

"Oh-h-h, that's a good girl," I sighed, "yes-s-s, that's real good."

She pumped easily, smearing my slick pre-cum up and down the shaft. I noticed that, as she rubbed it in, the dry friction didn't feel so good.

"Spit on it," I whispered, "drop some spit on it and make it easier, girl."

"Yassah," she mumbled, her tongue working around her tight lips.

The way she squatted, her short dress - made from a couple of clean grain bags - draped from her knees, showing me her dusky, little pussy, her inside lips all pink and swollen. I'd seen Daddy through the knothole in the wood wall as he'd pleasured himself with Happy. She'd had her legs wrapped around his hips as he stuck his hard dick in and out of her split. They both seemed to enjoy it and it did seem like a lot of fun, so my mind turned to that as I got closer and closer to cumming. Finally, I grabbed Dawn's hands and worked them faster and faster, until I came.

"Oh, that's good, girl," I sighed, letting my feet slip forward.

Dawn smiled happily, pulling her cum-spattered hands off. I'd seen Happy suck Daddy off, too, and seen her lick her hands clean, so I pushed Dawn's hands up to her mouth and told her to lick them clean. She looked at me hesitantly, but I threatened her with an upraised hand and she licked her fingers clean.

"Um-m-m," she smiled up at me, wanting to please me.

"Did it taste all right?"

"Yassah," she nodded, "taste good."

Her hairless little pussy interested me, but nigras was supposed to be pretty smelly, although I didn't smell nothing bad on Dawn. I stripped my overalls off anyway and pulled her little dress off over her head. Her long, straight, light-brown hair made her look more like an Indian than a nigra.

"Let's take a swim an' clean off," I stood, taking her hand and leading her into the cold water.

"Yassah," she nodded compliantly.

I got us out into water just up to my knees and sat. Dawn splashed some water on her chest and head, then sat beside me, copying my outstretched legs. She was still very young, maybe four or five. I had her stand up again and turned her around, inspecting her from all angles.

"She's a real girl," I thought, "but she ain't got no hair 'tween her legs nor any teats."

However, I went ahead and reached between her legs, playing with her little pussy. She smiled hesitantly as I pushed her legs apart, making her half-squat as I pulled her hips to me. She cried out as I delved knuckle deep into the tight little hole Happy had showed me, the hole down atween her bottom lips.

"Hush, now!" I ordered, pushing my finger in deeper.

She closed her mouth and tried not to make a sound. I was a little more gentle this time, but when I pulled my finger out, I noticed a little blood on it. I remembered Daddy saying something about a girl's cherry, so I touched the bloody finger to my tongue. It only tasted like blood.

"Did that hurt a lot, girl?"

"Um, uh, no sah," she nodded then quickly shook her head instead, "it hooted a little."

"Must'a been ya cherry," I smiled trying to sound as wise as I could.

"Oh."

The aroma coming from my finger and the memory of Daddy on Happy, had my prick stiff again. Pulling her to me, I got her to straddle my legs as I pressed my nose to her hairless little pussy. She giggled as my nose spread her little pussy lips. I wondered how it felt to put my prick between them. I was pretty sure that my prick would fit in her little hole. It felt wet and slick as I pushed my finger back into her. This time she gasped and didn't try to pull away. I smiled up at her and she smiled shyly back at me, suckling on her little thumb.

"Come down on me, girl," I smiled, "this'll go where I had my finger."

She looked at me doubtfully, but began lowering herself onto me. It took a little fumbling, but I finally slid my prick inside her.

"Ooh, yeah," I groaned quietly, "how's it feel?"

Her eyes had glazed a little, I guess her baby clittie was rubbing on my pelvis as she nodded mutely.

"Does it hurt?"

She started to nod, but quickly shook her head.

"Good," I sighed, "it feels real good, don't it, girl."

"Uh, huh," she also sighed.

I wrapped my arms around her and hugged her to me. After a few hesitant seconds, she laid her arms on my shoulders, leaning her forehead on my shoulder. I'd never really hugged her before. I'd put my arms around her many times and had also picked her up and cradled her, but this was different, seeming a lot more intimate. Then I felt it - her little pussy tightening around my stiff little prick. I gasped, my eyes going wide as I felt it grip me tight.

"Oh!" she whimpered in her high little voice.

"Yes!" I gasped.

I humped into her by instinct and reflex more than because I'd thought of it.

"Ooh," she whimpered softly, laying her head on my shoulder, her little hips rising and falling as I thrust my short skinny prick into her.

"Oh, this is so nice . . ." my voice so low and husky that I didn't recognize it.

Her pussy felt very good. It wasn't as tight as my fist, but the slick feel of it and the gripping tightness was so wonderful.

"Y-yeth," Dawn lisped nodding and burying her face in the hollow of my shoulder once more, "r-r-real n-n-nice."

She shivered and gave a couple of instinctive humps, gasping as her pussy tightened and got even slicker.

"Oh-h, yes," I moaned quietly, "that's my good girl."

She looked up at me in some awe, resting her chin on my chest, her dark, liquid brown eyes wide. Slowly she slid her arms down, wrapping them around my chest and sighing profoundly. She rolled her hips into mine gently and slowly as I thrust into her over and over, hugging her desperately to me. A few minutes later, she began sliding back and forth on me in time with my thrusting prick. She gave a little gasp again and her little pussy tightened then she gave a little squeal and relaxed against me again.

"Do it again, girl," I urged, "that was good!"

She smiled up at me and tightened her little pussy around my stiff little prick.

"Like dat?"

"Um-m-hm-m-m . . . oh, yeah, girl, just like that."

"Marsa?"

"Y-yeah-unh," I could feel my little balls tightening.

"Kin ah kissy yo', sah?" she smiled up at me winningly, "ah sho' wanna kissy yo' lips, marsa."

"Gimme a minnit," I gasped.

"Kay," she nodded in disappointment.

"Aw-w-gh-h-h," I gasped as I came.

"Ooh!" Dawn's eyes widened and she stared up at me in wonder, "I feeled dat!" she grinned.

"Darn, girl," I smiled down at her, "you's good."

She smiled up at me, proudly pushing her pig-tails back as I took her little chin like I'd seen Daddy take Happy's and kissed her gently. I stuck my tongue out like I'd seen him do and pushed it between Dawn's surprised lips, holding her firmly as she tried to back away.

"Don't!" I warned.

She closed her eyes and suckled on my tongue as if she were suckling on a teat. Darn, that felt good, too.

"I gotta watch Daddy and Happy some more," I thought to myself, "learn a few things."

Dawn lifted her hands to mine, holding on to them lightly as she leaned against me. As I pulled away, my thoughts and feelings got all muddled together, I didn't know what to think. I was all confused inside. She was my pet, but she was suddenly a whole lots more than that.

"There, that's yo' kiss," I told her gruffly, "now git yo' ass up so's we kin git dressed and skedaddle out'n here."

"Yassah," she sighed, smiling at me oddly as I helped her up.

I was thinking hard, but after we dressed, I sat back against the old willow and tossed my line back in. When Dawn moved to sit beside me, I took her hand and sat her between my legs, letting her lean back against me. She turned her head to look up at me and flashed her white teeth.

"Gonna have ta do somethin' 'bout yo' breath, girl," I complained gruffly, "if we're gonna do some more kissin' yo' gonna have to swish yore mouth with some peppermint water or something."

"Yassah," she nodded.

She looked a little downcast as she nodded, then her head came up and she smiled shyly up at me. What I'd said about kissing some more sinking in her head.

"If'n I fin' some mint leaves and chew 'em, kin ah kissy yo' agin, Marsa?" she asked eagerly.

I looked at her as if considering the idea, then nodded my okay. She squealed and jumped up running directly to a small patch of bushes and dug through them, pulling off leaves and stuffing them in her mouth.

"Bring me some a that there . . ." about that time, I got a bite on the line and I pulled in good three pound cat.

Dawn helped me pull it in and held the end of the stringer as I slid it on and looped it to keep the fish from escaping. Normally, I'd have let her take it off the line and put it on the stringer, but I felt a little differently about her - maybe a little more protective, more as if I needed to look after her - I don't know. I re-baited - something else I normally would have had her do, and tossed the line back in. As I settled back against the willow, Dawn returned and handed me a handful of mint leaves and spat out what she had in her mouth.

"Do I smells good, Marsa," she blew her breath into my nose.

"Yeah, you does," I grinned, chewing the leaves and pulling her to me.

"Um-m-m," she moaned quietly as I pressed my lips to hers and pushed my tongue into her willlingly open mouth.

"Yo's sho' good to me, Marsa," she sighed curling up happily in my arms.

"And don't nevah fergit it," I answered gruffly, "you's mine . . . less'n I decides to sell ya."

"Yassah," she nodded happily, running her small fingers over my chest softly, "ah hopes ya nevah does sell me off."

"Be good an' ah nevah will," I promised.

I got another catfish on the line as Dawn and me kissed a little while later. It was a good six pounder. By then it was getting on to ten o'clock and I was thinking about some dinner, but I was also enjoying my time with Dawn. We got it on the stringer together, then I let her bait the line and I tossed it in. A little later, as I kissed her sweet little lips again, I got another bite on the line. I pulled it in, another three-pounder. We done really good that morning, must have found a couple of good holes. I was baiting the hook while Dawn sat on the bank hugging her knees and watching, when Blue came kicking down the path. He waited patiently until I looked at him and asked him what he wanted.

"Yo' mam said t' tells ya ta hie yo'sef home fo' dinner," he stared at the fish, "yo' unca Dan's there an' she wants ya should bathe afore then."

I sighed and looked up at Blue.

"Okay," I began pulling my line in, "go tell her I'm on the way."

"Yassah," he half-bowed and strolled back up the path.

I waited until he'd disappeared up the path then turned to my little pet.

"Ya know we can't go 'round kissin' all over the place," I admonished Dawn, "it wouldn't be fittin' nor proper."

Dawn stared up at me wide-eyed and nodded. I looked on up the trail once more and cupped her chin in my hand. She leaned in toward me, puckering expectantly, half-closing her eyes as I kissed her gently.

"We kin allus sneak off an' kiss and do some more . . . of the other stuff, okay?"

I didn't know what to call it, I'd never heard any name for it - that I could remember. I'd probably heard it, but I couldn't remember if I had or not. I just caressed her round, baby cheek, enjoying the feel of her soft, smooth, coffee skin.

"Okay," she grinned and threw her arms around my waist, kissing my belly.

"Alright, stop it," I smiled pushing her away gently, "here, take the fish."

She smiled happily up at me and threw the heavy load of fish over her small shoulder, staggering under the load. Thirteen pounds or so of fish was a pretty heavy for a little girl like her. Holding onto the brunt of the fish, I helped her step up the bank.

"You sho' is a scrawny thing," I teasingly fussed at her, "but I likes you."

She giggled suddenly, a sound I'd never heard from her before.

"I heered Mammy Letty tell Sairy that when she pleasured Blue, she was his woman," she half-whispered, her eyes shining up at me.

I let it lie as I thought that little tidbit over. The nigras called it "pleasuring," and I guess it was. It had certainly been my pleasure. After a long while, she spoke again.

"Marsa?"

I didn't answer, I just took the fish off her narrow little shoulders and threw them over mine, letting her carry my pole and can of crickets.

"Marsa?" she called again, stepping up beside me, tugging on my overalls.

"Yes, Dawn, you's my woman!" I finally snapped at her, but I smiled and lay my hand on her shoulders, "but it ain't like with Sara and Blue. Me and you . . . well, ya gotta be my private woman," I looked down sideways at her.

"Yassah," she grinned, "like mah mam and yo' Daddy, yassah, ah knows," she giggled again and grabbed my overalls, hanging onto my pocket as she skipped along happily.

She was just a little girl and I was just a boy, after all. As we got close to the house, I caught up with Mammy Letty hurrying home. She immediately got off the dirt road and stepped into the ditch, bowing respectfully to me. I stopped and handed her the fish.

"Git one'a them boys to skin these fer me, Mammy. You kin have the biggest one fo' yo'sef if'n you wants it."

"Yas, SAH," she smiled big, "my, my, these is some good lookin' fishes, um-m, um, thank yo', sah," she practically groveled.

I waved her away, my mind working again. As I went in the house, I had an idea, but for the time being, didn't follow up on it. Dawn wasn't allowed in the house except in the mornings, so she stayed outside and slept on the porch, sitting on the steps when she woke up until I got up. I weren't sure yet how to make my idea real and, as Momma pointed me straight up the stairs without saying a word, I walked on up.

"Hi, Uncle Dan," I waved at him.

"Hi, yourself, boy," he grinned, "how's my young man doing?"

"Oh, I'm doing fine," I nodded.

Momma gave me another look and I hurried up to my bath. When James, the butler, for want of a better word, the head of the household slaves, came in to help me, I had it. I smiled up at him and waved him away.

"Send my girl up," I told him, "she kin scrub my back f'me."

James stared at me for a few seconds.

"Do as I tol' ya, boy," I ordered more sternly, staring him down.

"Yassah," he bowed and went out.

Five minutes or so later, Dawn came running in all out of breath and excited to be inside "the big house," I only smiled and handed her a wash cloth.

"You's in here to scrub m'back," I handed her the bar of strong lye soap, "so git ta scrubbin'."

"Yassah," she smiled, dipping the cloth in the water and soaping it up.

As I scrubbed my arms and chest, she quickly scrubbed my back, automatically moving to my feet and scrubbing them vigorously. When she looked up, I caught her eye and smiled. She beamed back at me. She was my woman, little as she was, and she was happy doing things for me. I stood up when she let go of my feet, handing me a towel as I stepped out of the tub. As I toweled off, she dried my backside with another towel.

"Yo' so purty all over, Marsa," she sighed.

"Well, you gotta purty up, too, if'n ya wants to stay with me," I nodded toward the tub, "take yo' clothes off and take a bath . . . an' yo' hair needs washing, too."

"Yassah," she pulled her dress off over her head and stepped into the tub.

Right about then, James tapped on the door and stepped in. His eyes went wide when he saw my little picaninny in the tub. As he stepped forward, intent on yanking her out of the tub, I stepped in front of him.

"Ah likes mah servants at least as clean as I am," I stared at him sternly.

He stared at me for a few seconds.

"Don't even think it, nigra," my voice was menacing, brooking no argument, "less'n I have you flogged within an inch of yo' worthless life, if'n you even think of gittin' uppity with me."

"Y-yassah," he nodded, staring past me at Dawn.

"And, by the way, she's mah pet girl and I want you to bring her pallet up to my room so's if I need sommat or other at night, she kin git it for me, hear?"

"Yassah," he lowered his eyes and bowed even deeper.

I turned back to find some clothes and caught Dawn's wide-eyed gaze on me again.

"I is yo' woman, Marsa," she whispered, "I'll be so good fo' you, sah."

I ignored her. The good Lord only knew why I'd stood my ground and told James off like that. He'd always scared me before. I dug around in my wardrobe until I found an old, worn-out, frill shirt and set it aside. I got my pants on and turned to Dawn in the tub.

"Lean forward, girl," I directed gently, "an' I'll scrub yo' back."

"Yassah," she smiled over her soft little shoulder at me.

"Don't f'git ta scrub 'tween yo' legs," I leered at her, "we gotta have that nice an' clean an' ready fo' tonight."

"Ooh, yas-sah," she giggled.

I dried her off when she was done, and she slipped her dirty dress back on. I clucked at how dirty it was.

"We gotta git you something cleaner if you gonna serve me," I shook my head, "guess it'll have ta do fer now."

I picked up the old shirt, put it down and dug around in my wardrobe again. I came up with a couple more shirts and picked up all three.

"Go tell James he can bathe in the water if he wants or just toss it out," I ordered her, "then come find me."

"Yassah," she dashed off to the butler's pantry to find him.

I went down looking around until I found Happy. She was in the laundry folding clothes she'd just pulled off the line.

"Happy girl," I called.

"Yassah," she quickly knelt and bowed her head.

"Take these and fix 'em up like dresses for my girl," I handed her the shirts.

She gave a small gasp as she took the shirts.

"Dey's so fine, Marsa," she caressed the shirts.

"They just some old shirts I done out-growed an' th' girl needs sommat nice enough to be my servant," I nodded, "we'll have to get her some sturdier cloth for work clothes. I'll come up with sommat."

"Yassah," she nodded, her eyes still on the shirts.

"I'll need one fo' the mo'ning, first thang," I smiled not unkindly, "yo' kin work on it atter my Daddy's done with you fo' th' night."

"Yassah."

I could see her eyes brighten as she smiled when I mentioned Daddy. Maybe nigras did have feelings like that, I thought.

"You're a good girl, Happy," I patted her nappy head gently.

It was the first time I'd touched her and the first time I'd even praised her.

"Thank you, sah," she murmured, smiling shyly up at me.

"You kin go back ta work," I turned and strode out feeling like a man.

"Thank you, sah," she said to my back.

---

Uncle Dan had always been fun. He made me and Momma laugh. When he came by, he always stayed a few nights, always had spending money and was always good for a dollar or two. At a time when cotton was twenty cents a bale - a very good price -a dollar was a lot of money. Momma always fussed about the amount of money he gave me, but he'd also leave her ten or twenty dollars each time he came, always saying that it was for his room and board.

Coming down to dinner, I overheard him talking with Daddy, saying that he had a half-dozen nigras he'd picked up at auction a few days earlier that he needed to get rid of. Daddy said that three of his had died and he was thinking of putting down two old ones that couldn't work any more and offered him five each for four. As I settled into the couch, Sairy brought him a taste of dinner on one of the best china plates we had. Letting the hot food cool a bit, Uncle Dan laughed and said that five would barely cover his expenses of keeping them, but since Daddy was his brother, he'd let them go for fifteen each and that would be just breaking even for what he'd paid for them as well as the cost of feed. Daddy chuckled and said that fifteen was too much to pay for stupid animals, that it might be a decent price for a mule, but that he only needed field workers and said that nine was the best he could do. Uncle Dan forked some of Cook's tender lamb into his mouth and chewed it carefully as if thinking it over before speaking.

"I'll tell you what," he paused looking serious, "I'll take ten apiece, but only if you take all six of them off my hands."

Daddy thought on it a bit, then nodded.

"You got y'sef a deal," he stuck out his hand, "write up the papers and I'll get the money in the morning for you."

"You're a hard man to deal with, Petey," Uncle Dan chuckled shaking his hand, "a hard man."

They talked for a while until Sairy came in and told us that dinner was ready. After dinner, we went out onto the porch. Uncle Dan took a quick look at Dawn hanging behind me - he'd noticed me hand-feeding her some of the tastier food - and looked at me speculatively.

"What you got hanging off your ass, boy," he chuckled waving at Dawn, "looks like a small black pimple."

"It's my pet," I sat back on one of the wicker chairs with Dawn kneeling beside me, "I took her as my personal servant."

"Don't look like much of a servant," he smiled examining her from where he sat.

Daddy leaned over and whispered in his ear. Uncle Dan smiled as he listened, slapping Daddy on the leg and guffawing loudly.

"Go to," he laughed, "he ain't old enough - is he?"

Daddy just shrugged and raised his eyebrows, his eyes comically wide and lips puckered, then smiled slyly.

"I can remember a certain young ten year old what jumped on Mammy Letty, big as she was and ready to drop a pup, and made her lie under him."

"Oh, hell, bo," Uncle Dan laughed, "you're plumb embarrassing me."

They laughed loudly while Momma hid her face behind her fan and her two maidservants tried to suppress their giggles. Dawn looked at me, completely mystified. I was just as mystified. Neither of us got the joke they were laughing about.

"By the way," Daddy continued laughing, "Mammy Letty's still pining for you," he burst out in fresh laughter, "she . . . she's in," he laughed, "in the cabin," he chortled, "the cabin down by the s-s-stream," he howled.

"Well, then," Uncle Dan laughed just as loudly, "I'll . . . I'll just have to . . ." he laughed, "to . . . to pay her a visit, then."

That stopped Daddy short and he stared away from Uncle Dan trying to keep a straight face. Then they looked toward each other at the same time and suddenly broke out in a fresh round of howling laughter, slapping their thighs.

"Y-yeah, I kin jes', jes'," Daddy couldn't talk he was laughing so hard, "jes' see you ridin' that big-ass nigra."

I got it then. Daddy kicked his rocker so far back as he howled with laughter, that he almost fell backward off the porch. He would have, too, if James hadn't grabbed the back of it and pulled him upright. Daddy patted his arm in thanks, unable to speak he was laughing so hard. It even brought a smile to James stone face. I could see a little of Momma's face over her fan. It was as red as a beet. Her two maids whispered to each other, giggling into their hands as they fanned Momma.

The men finally got themselves under control, James re-lit Daddy's and Uncle Dan's cigars and they changed the subject. I sipped my lemonade quietly. Having begun to get what they'd been joking about, I tried to imagine Uncle Dan atop Mammy Letty. The picture wouldn't come so I just shook my head. Feeling Uncle Dan's eyes on me, I looked up at him and he shifted his eyes to Dawn, kneeling beside me, her hand resting on my thigh. I stared back at him, laying my hand over hers, keeping Dawn's hand in place, my face reddening hotly.

"She's sho' a purty little thang," Uncle Dan murmured to Daddy and nodded toward Dawn, "I'll refund you ten dollars for her, Petey," he smiled staring into my eyes.

Years later, I wondered about that stare. It seemed as if he'd been testing me somehow, but right then, I almost panicked. However, I held still, my eyes wide as I spoke up.

"He can't sell her because she's mine," I stated.

"That's right," Daddy backed me up, "I give 'er to him a'fore she was whelped. Told him he could have her as a pet, but I sho' thought it would be a male," he shrugged.

"Well, then what about it, Joseph," he smiled unctuously, "ten dollars. Add it to the dollar I gave you and it'll give you eleven, hm?"

I looked at him, felt in my pocket for the piece of silver he'd given me and immediately made up my mind. I dug it out, held it in the palm of my hand and stared at for a few seconds, then resolutely tossed it into his lap without a word.

"Ha, ha-a-a!" Daddy yelped with glee, "guess that told yew, boy!"

He slapped Uncle Dan on the back as Uncle Dan smiled and rubbed the silver between his fingers. He thought for a few seconds, then tossed it back to me.

"Don't never get too attached to nothing, son," I caught the quick, wistful glance - quickly covered - that he threw at Momma, "you never know what'll happen."

He sounded a little sad to me and I hadn't meant to insult him when I gave him his money back, but right then, had I been asked, I would have willingly traded all the riches in the world for my little nigra, patting her hand as I realized that. She was my girl and I'd promised her that I'd never sell her. Besides, Daddy had always told me that if you give your word, then you wasn't much of a man if you didn't keep it. Even though she was just a nigra, I'd given her my word and I meant to keep it - and her - even if nigras didn't count as people.

It had been a hot day. It was what yankees like to call "sultry," so we had supper on the back porch because it had a nice little breeze blowing through it that came off the river. Once again, I hand-fed Dawn from my plate as she knelt beside me. It was becoming a habit that I enjoyed. I made sure she ate enough so she wouldn't be hungry later. I really liked picking up the food with my fingers and letting her lick them clean before she chewed her food. Her active little tongue wrapping around my fingers sent goose bumps up my back. I smiled and patted her head, letting my hand trail down her soft, silky hair. I was glad she wasn't nappy like most of the other picaninnies.

All afternoon, Uncle Dan and Daddy had talked slaves. Uncle Dan mentioned that he'd like to have a few sports to round out his auction stock and asked Daddy if he had any light-skins that he wouldn't mind selling. Daddy thought about it for a bit, then said that he had four that were pretty light, saying that he'd gotten a couple of light girls in trade and he'd impregnated them some years back. Uncle Dan asked how light his whelp were and Daddy said that they were pretty light and wouldn't mind letting Uncle Dan looked at the two oldest in the morning and maybe make an offer on them. Uncle Dan asked if they'd been weaned. Daddy nodded and said that he reckoned the two was a couple years younger'n me. As they thoughtfully smoked their cigars down, Momma excused herself saying that she had to get to bed. The men stood up politely as she and her maids headed upstairs.

It was pretty late by then, nearly nine, and the stars was shining bright. I told my girl to go up and get my bed ready for me. She curtsied, bowing her head, quickly turned and raced off. I sat there wondering where she'd learned to curtsy. Uncle Dan and Daddy sat back in their wicker chairs and I sat on the porch railing as James cleaned up their ash trays.

"They male or female," Uncle Dan re-started the conversation.

"They's both girls," Daddy smiled, "I was kind'a looking forward to when they was around fourteen or fifteen. 'Pending on their looks, I was thinking of taking one or the other - or both to the Octaroon Ball in N'Orleens," he shrugged, "but if the price is right, well, the cotton ain't coming in that good. Been too rainy this year .. ."

"The Octaroon Ball, hm?" Uncle Dan leaned back, "they'd be worth more as breeders if they was invited there -even if they didn't get in as debutantes. The fact that they was considered would be enough," he nodded.

He steepled his fingers and they both thought about that for a bit.

"Tell you what, Petey," Uncle Dan sat up slapping the arm of his chair, "if they look purty enough, and you can usually tell even at . . . what . . . nine, ten?" he spread his hands out, "I might take 'em off ya hands."

"Ya kin look at 'em tomorrow," Daddy nodded, "one's purtier than a new pup," he shrugged, "but that's my opinion. I got old Sam and Mammy Letty keeping 'em virgin for me, so they ain't been poked yet."

"Good," Uncle Dan nodded pursing his lips, "brings their value up even more. 'Course, as young as they are, it ain't hard to keep 'em that way, it's when they git 'round twelve that it gets kinda hard to keep 'em virginal."

By then they were both yawning and so was I. I finally said goodnight and went up to my room. I passed Happy's room on the way. As I reached for my door handle, her door opened and she whispered for me.

"Marsa Joey," she whispered.

"Yes," I whispered back, not wanting to wake Momma.

"I done got th' dress ready for ya, sah," she ducked back into her room.

I turned and headed back. She returned quickly, staring at the floor as she handed me the re-worked shirt. I didn't give it much of a look. I just smiled and took it.

"Thank you, Happy."

She froze at my words. No white ever showed gratitude to a nigra. I was suddenly unsure of whether I should have or not. Either way, it was done and I headed on to my room and quietly opened the door. Dawn lay huddled on the floor, lying without a cover on her bare pallet, breathing gently and quietly. I undressed as quietly as I could, hanging my sweaty clothes over the back of a straight-back ladder chair. As I stood there naked, I debated on whether or not to pull on some clothes. I spotted myself in the tall mirror - a skinny-legged kid with hardly any meat on his body - and decided not to put on my sleeping gown. It was just too darn hot. I picked up the dress Happy had fixed up for Dawn and looked at it in the moonlight. From what I could see in the dim light, she'd done a real good job. It looked prettier than I'd thought it might. She'd done a real good job of blending in the torn shoulder. I gently lay the dress over the chair's seat and knelt by my girl - my woman, I thought to myself. I gently pulled her up off her pallet and sat her sleepily on the edge of my bed, pulling her dirty dress off over her head.

"Be's it mawning awready, Marsa," she scrubbed her eyes sleepily.

"Nah, we's jis going to bed," I whispered throwing her bedding back, "lay down here with me, girl, keep me warm," it was already darn warm, but I wanted to feel her beside me.

"Yassah," she mumbled sleepily.

I pulled a pillow under her head and she drifted off immediately. I looked at her sweet, slender little body for a few minutes, caressing her from shoulder to ankle. She stirred and I shushed her softly, patting her soft little rump comfortingly. It felt so smooth and silky. I began getting hard as I ran my hands up her short little thighs and along the cleft of her soft little ass. She turned her head and opened one eye to stare at me, then smiled and closed it, adjusting her upper leg so I could run my hand along her soft, pouting little slit. I shook my head and climbed over her, laying on my side with a sigh as I pulled her against me. She mumbled something unintelligible and grabbed my thumb, pulling it to her mouth and suckling it gently. That got me even stiffer, but I only pulled it back and smoothed the pillow under my head. Then, slipping an arm under her head, I dropped off to sleep in spite of my hard-on.

I was half-asleep when a small noise brought me completely awake. I couldn't tell what it was. Turning over, I turned and uncovered the tiny knothole I used to spy into Happy's room. Daddy lay on his back, Happy's face bobbing on his big prick. I hoped that mine would grow as big. As I watched, I heard the noise again. I quickly covered my spyhole and crossed quietly over Dawn. Pulling my door open just a crack, I saw the source of the tiny noise - it was Uncle Dan across the hall in front of Momma's door. He did it again, tapping gently on Momma's door with a fingernail. He looked around, then as the door creaked quietly open, he reached in and pulled her face to his, pressing his lips softly against hers. Her hands came up to his face and they went in, their lips still pressed together. I thought about it for a bit and looked again. No such luck. Only a soft, little feminine gasp floated in the still air. If I hadn't been listening, I probably wouldn't have heard it. I'd never thought that Momma was anything but Momma and I wondered what they were doing in there, knowing deep in the back of my mind, but refusing to understand.

The next morning, I was awakened by the sound of my door closing quietly. I reached for Dawn, but she wasn't there. I looked up just as she set a pitcher of water by the basin, smiling softly at me as I sat up and yawned. She had her dirty dress back on. I shrugged. It was my fault, I hadn't told her about the new dress.

"I got you some wash-up wattah, Marsa," she smiled, filling the wash basin.

She got a wash cloth and got busy, wetting it and soaping it up before bringing it to me. She knelt at my feet and lifted up one foot at a time, scrubbing them clean. Then with another wet cloth, she rinsed them off. Standing up, she took one arm after the other, lifting it and washing my arm-pits. She giggled and dropped her head when I told her she was doing a real good job. I didn't think I needed a wash-up, but I loved the attention and let her clean me up anyway. After she rinsed me off, she knelt at my feet again, looked up questioningly at me and when I nodded, she washed my crotch. When she lifted my prick up and washed off my balls, I got a real hard-on, but she was all business. I stood up and she scrubbed my asshole until it had to be sparkling clean. I sat back down, my prick still standing stiff and hard.

"Know what I want now?" I smiled.

She nodded, covering her mouth and giggling as she stood and laid the washcloth on the window sill to dry.

"Me, too," she lisped sweetly.

She knelt between my knees and I smiled and nodded as she cupped her hands around my balls and kissed the head of my stiff prick.

"I snuck a peek at Mammy Letty and James a few days gone," she lisped, "an' she let on as how men really likes dis."

She opened her mouth wide and took my prick between her lips, inexpertly suckling and licking my oozing pre-cum with a gusto. As she wrapped her pudgy little fingers around the shaft of my prick, I grabbed her head and worked it back and forth. I guess I wasn't yet that big, because she took me completely down without gagging. What the hell, I was still a kid and my prick wasn't enough to make a mouthful, I guess. It still felt good and it didn't take me long to give up my spermy cream, emptying my little balls into her avidly suckling mouth.

"Oh, yes-s-s, girl," I sighed, "that be's so good."

She smiled up at me, her eyes shining with pleasure at pleasing me as she wiped off her mouth with the back of her hand without speaking. Gazing down at my soft little pecker, she gave it one last lick and sucked on my cum slit, took the washcloth and wiped it down.

"Ah likes dat," she lisped sweetly.

"Yeah. Me, too, girl," I pulled her to her feet and onto my lap, "me, too."

She rested her head in the crook of my neck and reached down to caress my soft prick. I raised her chin and kissed her, tasting my own salty flavor in her mouth. She suckled on my tongue gently for a few seconds, crooning soft, baby words.

"Um-m-m," I finally pushed her away.

"Ah likes dat, too," she smiled, looking up at me through her long eyelashes.

As she looked up at me, I realized that, in spite of being so dark, she was prettier than Momma. As I hugged her to me, I squeezed her tight, pushing her breath out. She wrapped her arms around my chest and squeezed me back. Then I heard Daddy and Uncle Dan's voices down the hall and knew I had to get dressed quick and gently pushed Dawn off my lap.

"Gotta git dressed, girl," I sighed, "gotta go with Daddy and see to the trade, okay?"

"Yassah," she nodded, quickly handing me some clean overalls.

I stared at her without taking them and she looked up at me in confusion, wondering what she'd done wrong.

"You gotta wash up, too, you know," I stared at her, "I ain't having my girl all grubby - and you gotta dress purty for me," I nodded toward the shirt-dress, "that's fo' you. I had Happy make it out'n a old shirt."

"Oh!" she gasped staring at it.

"Go on," I urged, "wash up an' put it on, then clean up in here an' atter that, go help Happy, okay?"

"Oh, it's so purty, Marsa," she held it up between pinched fingers, "so purty."

I was proud that she liked it. Proud that I had pleased her but . . . was I supposed to like pleasing a little picaninny nigra? I didn't know how I should act.

"I want this here place spotless, when I git back, hear me, girl?" I spoke gruffly, trying to cover my sudden insecurity.

Not looking at her, I pulled up my overalls and slipped my boots on. They were Daddy's hand me downs, still a little loose and still a bit big. Dawn handed me my old linsey-woolsey shirt and I slipped it on, leaving it unbuttoned.

"Wash up, girl - hear? I don't want you all smelly."

"Yassah," she lowered her eyes and bowed her head respectfully.

I gently lifted her chin and kissed her softly, using the barest tip of my tongue to touch her sweet baby lips. I didn't care whether I should or not, I just wanted to taste her sweet little kiss. She sighed and opened her mouth to me, but I didn't let her have my tongue. Darn she got me hard with just that small kiss.

"Find two er three old shirts and take 'em to Happy, girl," I whispered, "tell 'er to fix 'em same as she fixed t'others, okay?"

"Yassah," she nodded.

"And clean up!" I ordered sternly.

"Yassah," she hurriedly stripped off her dress as I stood in the door, staring at her sweet, young, titless body for a few seconds.

"Well? You coming, boy?" Daddy called from the stairs.

"Yes, sir," I hurriedly closed the door.

I trailed the men down the stairs, listening to them talk about the weather, crops, the price of cotton and, of course, the price of good slaves. They talked of the ever-increasing meddling of abolitionists here in the south as well as the capitol. I listened with half an ear to their talk. Very little of it mattered much to me at the time. The main thing I got out of it was that Uncle Dan and a number of other men disliked the federal government interfering in what was essentially a state's right to self-government. They believed that the government should be a guiding government at the head of a confederation of states and not an all-unifying entity directing how each state should conduct it's business.

"So what's being done about it?" Daddy asked curiously.

"Well, they've been arguing it over at the state and federal capitols. Been going on for 'most five years now an they still can't get it worked out," he shrugged, "there's talk of secession from the union. President said it would be over his dead body. There's this fellow that might do better, though, fellow name of Lincoln. Don't know as he'd be any better, but at least he's willing to listen and, maybe, compromise."

"I was down at Harold's store, the other day, an' I heered some say that it could mean a war if the federal gummint don't agree to secession. What about that?"

"Wal, there's some been talking 'bout seceding by force, if necessary," Uncle Dan shrugged, "I don't b'lieve we'd have a hope of winnin' if we did, but . . . it might force the gov'ment to the bargaining table and they'd stand a better chance if this Lincoln fellow gets elected."

We walked silently for a time. Sultan, one of the grooms, followed along behind, leading horses for us in case we wanted them. After a while, we finally arrived at Mammy Letty's old shack. James had sent word that we'd be coming to look at Belle and Lucy so she had them ready and standing on the stoop for us as we walked up. Sultan stood by patiently as Daddy called them down under a nearby oak, but Uncle Dan stepped up to the stoop and greeted Mammy Letty familiarly.

"Hello, Letty," he smiled, "how's my purty lady this fine day, hm?"

Letty bowed her head and giggled, her broad, shiny, dark-brown face splitting into the widest smile I'd ever seen as she turned her head shyly. I couldn't believe how much like a little girl the old woman acted. Uncle Dan took her chin in his hand, leaned in and kissed her - right on the lips! I was shocked. I'd never seen a grown white man kiss a nigra on the lips. As I thought about it, I guessed that I wasn't the only one that did.

"Don't forget me, Letty," he whispered in her ear.

She looked up at him all doe-eyed and shook her head, a tear sliding down her ample dusky cheek, "No, sah," she whimpered, "ah nevah fo'gits yew."

She bowed her head, tears dripping from her eyes as she chivvied the girls forward.

"Strip 'em," Daddy ordered, his face red, "I wanna see all their markings."

"Yassah," Mammy bowed her head and knelt pulling the girls' sack-cloth dresses off them.

Belle and Lucy stood shivering in the summer breeze. It wasn't cold enough surely, so it must have been nerves. I got up close to look them over also. They was both pretty little things, several years older than Dawn, fair complected - almost white, hell Lucy could have been white except for her wide, flat little nose and very curly, nappy, hair. Belle was a little darker, she could probably have passed as a light-skinned Mexican. Her skin had a clear and unblemished, uniform light tan, her hair was black and very curly, although not enough to look kinky. She was very pretty with almond eyes and small lips and nose. Like I said, she could have passed for a Mexican.

"This one's too much nigra," Uncle Dan ran his fingers through Lucy's hair and down her little body, "although .. . she might do for . . ."

He bent her over his knee and spread her butt cheeks, inspecting her anus and hairless little vulva. Lucy lay patiently as he spread her cunt lips open and peered in. Standing her up, he nodded then did the same to Belle. With her, he opened her mouth and checked her teeth. Noting the missing teeth, he felt her empty gums with a finger as Belle opened her eyes wide, whining in protest.

"Quiet!"Uncle Dan slapped her, not unkindly.

Belle quit whining, but she danced a little under his prodding finger. Satisfying himself that her new teeth were coming in good, he let her go.

"Make sure you keep their teeth clean, Letty," Uncle Dan ordered, "nobody wants a wench without teeth or teeth that're falling out."

"Yassah," she half-bowed several times.

Uncle Dan leaned back and squatted against the oak. We watched Mammy dress the girls again as we waited for Uncle Dan to speak. Mammy lined them back up in front of us and Uncle Dan ran his fingers through Lucy's tight curls.

"They're really soft and silky," he smiled as Lucy dimpled shyly and lowered her head, "you're a cute little one," he bent and kissed the top of her head.

Mammy smiled dotingly down at her as Uncle Dan pulled Belle closer and turned her around a couple of times.

"She's too dark for a sport," he nodded, "if I was you, Petey, I'd keep both of them until they're thirteen or fourteen and breed 'em yourself. I think their next ones will be good enough for New Orleans and the Octoroon ball."

"I think I can handle that," Daddy grinned, sliding his hand over Lucy's buttocks.

"I can make you an offer for them as they are," Uncle Dan turned Belle around and sent her back to Mammy with a paternal slap on the rear, "they'll bring a handsome price in Birmingham, but they'll be worth more as breeding stock in a few years."

"How much you think they're worth now?"

"I could offer you fifty apiece straight out, no haggling," Uncle Dan shrugged, "when they start bleeding, they'll probably be worth half that."

Daddy opened his mouth to speak, but Uncle Dan wasn't done yet.

"Now that's what I'd offer. On the block . . ." he shrugged, "prob'ly more, can't say how much. Depends on how bad a buyer wants to have one."

Daddy nodded and, after a few minutes, Uncle Dan stood up, dusting his hands off and turned to Sultan.

"Well, boy, which horse did you bring me," he pressed his hands to the small of his back and stretched.

Before Sultan could answer, Daddy, grinning slyly, asked him if his mattress had been not to his liking.

"Oh, 'tweren't the mattress, old son," he winked.

Daddy laughed raucously.

"She always was pretty angular," he grinned, "thought you liked 'em more . . . um-m . . . comfortable," he turned without looking at Uncle Dan and snatched the reins of the bay out of Sultan's hand.

It wasn't until many years later that I realized they'd been bantering about Momma. She was a slender-hipped, willowy woman, back then. Uncle Dan didn't say anything, just stared angrily at Daddy's back.

"Git back to the stables, boy," Daddy hatefully ordered Sultan as I took the ginger's reins.

"Yassah," he bowed and pulled the imaginary hair on the front of his bald head.

"And you," he pointed at Mammy Letty, "if any damn nigra so much as touches either of them girls I'll have you snake-whipped and every one of these animals will leave their seed in your ass, hear me?!"

"Y-y-yassah," Mammy Letty gulped, rolling her eyes and showing the whites.

"And don't you roll your eyes at me or I will have you snake-whipped, HEAR?"

"Y-y-yassah," Mammy Letty quickly dropped her eyes and clasped her hands in her apron, shivering uncontrollably.

Sultan helped me mount and I quickly caught up with Daddy and Uncle Dan as they headed out along the river bank.

---

It must have been less than a year later that Momma died in childbirth and the baby with her. It was much later, after I learned how babies were made, that I figured that the baby must have been Uncle Dan's, since I'd never seen Daddy go to Momma. Meanwhile, Happy gave birth to twin boys, I guess they were Daddy's git, since no nigra dared touch her for fear of what Daddy would do to them. Both boys were very light-skinned and I could practically see Daddy adding the dollars as he looked them over.

About a year or so later, Lincoln got elected to the presidency, launching us into a war that put brother's at each other's throats. Through the first part of the fight, we managed to keep our plantation pretty much intact, although a lot of our nigras fled to what they thought was greener pastures. Daddy wouldn't let me go fight. He said to just let the damn fools kill each other off. Uncle Dan passed by early on, but he never came back. Daddy said he'd been killed in a slave uprising and never spoke of him again. A year after the war started, he gathered all our nigras together and spoke to them as if they were real men.

"I done spoke to a lot of people, but I never spoke to my own all at once," he frowned and thought about what he'd just said and what he wanted to say, "this here war we got going on, ain't one that we're gonna win whichever side wins," he paused and looked at Happy and the twins, "when this foolishness is over, Jeff Davis'll be out on his ass, if he don't get murdered, and old Abe Lincoln pro'bly's gonna be ruling the roost," he tried to speak again, but choked a couple of times, trying to croak out a few more words, forcing him to clear his throat several times, "I guess what I wanna say is that there ain't gonna be no more slaves an' I'm here to tell y'all that ennybody wants to leave now can leave with my blessing. You want me to write you a manumission, I'll write you one. Y'all are safer here, though, what with the paterrollers out day and night. Although thangs is also gettin' bad 'round here, so we gotta quit growing cotton and grow food fer us to eat because cotton ain't selling," he cupped his hands over his face, wiping his eyes in shame, "I'm asking those of you as is willing .. . to stay and work it . . . w-with me. The fishing's good, we got lots'a rabbits running loose and with the food we grow we'll survive. That's all I gotta say. You know your own hearts."

They were all hesitant, unsure if he meant what he'd said, but nobody came up and asked for their paper that day, although some did run off. I guess some of the ones that did stay were afraid that it might be a trick, but they were more afraid of the paterrollers. The next day, Sultan, the groom, was the first and knocked on the kitchen door. Cook opened the door and got him inside after a good deal of coaxing. Daddy was upstairs lying down by the open french windows to catch the breeze. Happy was fanning him, keeping him cool and the flies off him, so when Cook sent word up for him to come down, I went down instead to see what she wanted.

"Ah wants a manumission, sah," Sultan near choked, all wide-eyed and scared out of his wits.

I told him to wait while I got a quill and a piece of paper. When I got back, he was helping Dawn peel potatoes for supper.

"What name you want me to put on it, Sultan?"

I don't know why I asked instead of just writing Sultan on it, but I did, and that set the tone for the rest of the slaves - or, rather, ex-slaves.

"S-S-Sul -" he began then what I'd asked struck him and he stopped, seeming to get a sudden insight into what a name truly meant.

"Sultan?" I asked dipping my quill in the ink pot.

"Uhm, n-no sah," he straightened, a new, sudden resolve filling him, "ah wants a good name, a strong name, sah."

"Oh?" I looked up.

"Yassah, in the good book, I heered tell of Joshua, what broke down walls, an' I wants ta be named that," he nodded his eyes almost feverishly bright.

"Joshua," I nodded, "that is a strong name," I smiled and began writing, talking as I wrote, "this is a writ of manumission for Joshua . . ." I paused, "but you need a last name, Sul - I mean, Joshua," I looked up expectantly.

"Las' name, sah?" he looked with puzzlement at me.

"All free men have last names, Joshua," I smiled kindly at him, "what you want ya last name ta be? Hm?"

"Big Marsa's last name is Jenkins," Dawn offered gently.

I turned to stare at her in some surprise. She wilted under my stare, but I reached out to caress her cheek in apology. She looked at me, her bottom lip poked out over her upper one, thinking that I was angry with her and almost crying.

"No, darling girl," I whispered, "I don't like to see you cry on my account," and leaned toward her, pressing my lips gently to hers as I kissed her.

Cook, Joshua and Sairy all stared. I'd never kissed her in front of nobody before and they stared in astonishment. I patted her cheek and turned back to Joshua.

"Jenkins then," I looked at him, "if that's good with you, Josh - may I call you Josh?"

The new freed man stared at me his eyes wide, not yet able to understand that I, his white master, had asked his permission.

"Y-y-yassah," he finally answered, his eyes getting even wider as he stared at Dawn and back at me, "y-yassah. Joshua Jenkins be's fine," he nodded eagerly.

"Writ of manumission for Joshua Jenkins former property of Peter Alan Jenkins Plantation and Farms," I wrote, fanning the paper with one of Cook's towels then picked it up along with the quill and inkpot, "just gotta get Daddy to sign, be right back," nodding to Joshua, I ran upstairs.

Daddy's door was wide open. He'd gotten up and sat on the veranda looking over the few acres out of hundreds, that we had under the plow. As I tapped gently on the door jamb, he turned and waved me in.

"Joshua came by for his manumission papers," I held them out.

"Joshua?" he looked puzzled.

"Sorry, should'a said Sultan. He wanted a new name and last name."

"What's wrong with -" he stopped and waved me over to his desk, "ne' mind, gimme them papers," he patted the nearby table where he wanted them set.

I watched him dip the quill and sign with a flourish, quickly rolling the ink-press over it and handed it back to me.

"Don't forget to put the date on it," he got up and went back to looking out.

"No, sir," I nodded and left.

Back in the kitchen I pulled out the calendar. Joshua's eyes were wide, never taking his eyes off the paper. I quickly wrote in the date and blew over it to dry it. I watched his face as he kept his eyes on the paper, his mouth hanging open. When I handed it to him, he took it gently, outspread on the palm of his hand, hardly daring to breathe. Dawn leaned over to me, pulling on my shoulder. I thought she wanted another kiss, but she put her lips close to my ear instead.

"Maybe yo' should do list-es so's if'n yo's asted, then yo kin show the list," she leaned in and kissed my cheek.

"She's pretty smart for bein' 'most seven years old," I thought smiling at her, as I nodded and patted her cheek.

As Joshua sat entranced, holding his paper in the palm of his hand like a sacred relic, I took another sheet of paper and dipped my quill in the ink.

"List of writs of manumission," I wrote across the top and showed it to Dawn.

Then I thought of something else, so below that I entered the place name and the owner then below that I put another heading, "Manumitted Person & Date of Manumission." Carefully I entered Joshua Jenkins and today's date. As I let it dry, I turned it so Dawn could look at it. She surprised me by reading it aloud and only asking about the word "manumitted." I guess she'd learned more than I'd thought when she sat at my feet in school.

After I folded Joshua's paper so it fit in his pocket, he had me show him how to fold it several times. Such a simple thing to fold a sheet of paper, yet he'd never done it. I shook my head and sighed after he folded it until he "gots it right." Then he carefully put it in his pocket and backed out the door bowing several times to me and thanking me for this gift. After him, they began trickling in. Singly, at first, then by two's and three's. After the fifth one, Daddy had me bring up a sheaf of blank papers to him and he signed them all and told me to just fill them in. With the youngest, I put their names with their parents' names. Lucy and Belle and a few others that had no parents, I put down as Mammy Letty's grandchildren.

---

About a year and a half later, a bunch of our men got together and formed the 268th Carolina Volunteer Infantry. When I learned about it, I volunteered and, after some talking, managed to get on. I wanted to go fight and, at sixteen, I was old enough to carry a musket. Daddy didn't put up a fuss, he seemed all busted apart in his mind already, but Dawn was inconsolable after I left without taking her with me, but I had to go. It wasn't that I was all hot about the Confederacy, I didn't really believe in it, but hearing news of my friends and some of my cousins and uncles dying and the way they died, I wanted revenge. I wanted to kill those stupid Polacks and greedy Irish that wanted our lands. I made it through the Battle of Vicksburg, although a mini-ball tore through my shirt collar, burning my neck as it skinned me, but I marched on.

I received a battle-field commission to Captain after that fight and followed many of General Lee's battle moves with interest. Angry with him at times for the stupidity of particular battle tactics. There were many times that I'd taken my men into a battle that I knew we couldn't win, but my brave soldiers never wavered behind me. When I got wounded in a skirmish south of Augusta, I languished in a Union hospital north of Atlanta with a small leg wound, a prisoner of war.

I received my injury during a final battle of the war. On our assault, we were torn to ribbons by grape and chained ball, but we took the enemy in spite of all they threw at us. As we finished them off with bayonets, their reserves mounted a counter-assault and threw us back past our previous lines. Unfortunately, we had no reserves to call up to assist. The round that got me, was from a musket. It hit my sword buckle and shattered, sending fragments of ball and buckle into my leg before spattering away. I ended up with several fragment holes in my leg and a large bruise on my belly. Had that buckle not been there, I would have perished right there and then. At that point in the war, my men were tired and, with the exhaustion of battle and many hard marches written on their faces, seemed willing to accept the peace of internment.

When I fell, they held up a white flag and stabbed their musket bayonets in the dirt. I didn't know that a few days earlier, my General Lee had handed his sword to that drunken Grant. We didn't hear about it until several days later, when the telegraph lines were up again. I cried when I realized that the battle we'd fought, the battle that I'd lost so many of my brave soldiers to, had been after my General Lee had surrendered his sword at Gettysburg and I was saddened by our defeat, even though I knew it had been inevitable.

I was just past my nineteenth birthday when I limped out of that hospital and headed home. It wasn't until weeks later that I smelled the wonderful smell of the Carolina pines - mixed with the dust and smoky smell of burned plantation homes. I hoped and prayed that Jenkins Plantation was still in one piece. Along the way, I got a ride on a wagon with several other former Confederate soldiers. It had been provided by a kind, although dead, "former" Union soldier. There would be a lot of vengeance taken by both "former" enemies. A lot of blood would spill in anger long after the cessation of active hostilities. We rode along silently, but I finally broke the silence.

"Who was y'all with?" I pulled some tobacco out of my pocked and passed the pouch around as I rolled a cigarette,"where y'all from?"

"We all was with the 225th Charleston Volunteers," one of them answered almost sullenly, "what about you Cap'n?"

"Th' 268th Infantry, outta Camden," I puffed my cigarette alight on the phosphorous match another held out for me. It had also been "a gift" from the "former" Union soldier.

"I heered a' them," another nodded, "an' heered of a young Cap'n what never left no man behind," he puffed a corn-cob pipe alight, "wouldn't a minded being wiv 'em. Fightin' fools, I heered they was," the four men turned to stare at me, "a Cap'n Joseph Jenkins was his name," he stared at me speculatively.

"What'd ya say ya name was, suh," one of the others asked.

I stared at them for a few seconds, then nodded and stared at my feet.

"Jenkins," I answered, "Joe Jenkins."

"Hot damn!" the driver burst out with a huge smile, "we got old Joe hisself!"

"Old?" one laughed, "damn old man's nuthin' but a youngster. Made a damn good repitayshun for hisself, though," he pulled my cap off and ruffled my hair, "glad ta make ya acquaintance, suh," he slapped my cap back on my head and stuck out his hand, "Branford Smiley, pleased to make yer acquaintance."

"Glad to meet you, suh," I took his rough hand in mine, his powerful grip almost bringing tears to my eyes.

"Gerald McCray," another pushed his hand out for a shake.

One by one, the rest took my hand.

"Delbert Tolliver."

"M-M-Mickey R-R-Romero," the last one stuttered.

None of them looked much older than I was.

"They say that none in your company never run off, Cap'n," Branford commented.

"We was usually surrounded by Yankees," I shook my head, "couldn't run away."

They guffawed loudly.

"There was a lot that did," Delbert returned, "Lord knows, I thought about it a time or two, but . . . I didn't want my kids to say that I done lef' all'a my friend's to die."

"I-I-I-I ain'-ain'-ain' g-g-got nobody t-t-to home," Mickey stuttered out.

"Wife died of the cholera," Branford sighed and shrugged,"ain't had nuttin' to go home to in a long time, have ya boy?"

"Sorry to hear it."

Mickey only shrugged fatalistically.

"What about you, Cap'n," Gerald asked curiously, "what yew got awaitin' ya?"

I shrugged and thought about my little Dawn. She'd be around twelve or thirteen by now and I wondered if she was still alive. I'd rarely gotten news from home. When Sherman left Savannah and turned toward Columbia, I'd been very worried. Camden was just northeast of his march route and Jenkins Plantation was north of that. I prayed that whatever happened, Dawn would come out of it okay.

"I don't know," I shrugged again, "we had a good plantation and I hope some of it's still in one piece," and shrugged once more.

We continued on in silence. A couple of days later, we passed through the remains of Columbia. Sherman had left it in ruins. We managed to trade a horse for some supplies and kept on with the remaining three, we could have done with just two. All we were carrying was us and some salvaged bits of baggage. Several nights later, I shook their hands and told them that I'd be heading northerly in the morning. We sat up by a blazing campfire and popped the cork on a clay jug of home-made whiskey we'd acquired in the trade. After we had the first taste, Branford called me over to the wagon and uncovered what I'd thought was a bundle of their gear.

"That there, blue-coat had a few othah things aside from the hosses with him," he smilingly gestured at what he'd uncovered.

There were a number of muskets and rifled muskets as well as several Navy pistols, most were cap and ball, but he had one of the new cartridge pistols.

"Hep yo'sef," he gestured, "there be's nineteen rifle muskets and eight Navy pistols," he picked up the cartridge pistol, "but this be's mine. It's the newest in th' Union arsenal an' it'll come in handy . . . if'n I kin fin' some ca'tridges fer it."

"There'll be a lot available in the next few years," I nodded, "them's the newest thing and I hear they're damn reliable."

"Hopin' so," he smiled at the pistol, caressing it's blued-steel barrel.

I picked up a Navy Colt pistol. I'd had one much like it, given to me by Colonel Charlie Colcock himself when he put me up as Captain after the Battle for Honey Hill. He'd said that all of his officers carried sidearms. There was no way none of us was gonna give in to a bunch'a nigras in blue uniforms. That pistol had been taken from me when me and my remaining men were taken prisoner. I dug my holster out of my sack and pushed the gun into it. It fit perfectly and I smiled at him. Branford handed me a couple of empty powder bags and gestured toward the water-proof barrel under the seat. I quickly filled them and, as I finished, he handed me another bag full of shot with a mold as well as a bar of lead to make more. I thanked him and pulled out a three rifle muskets that looked in fairly decent condition. Again, as I laid them aside, Branford filled another bag with several hands full of caps and handed it to me. I thanked him again.

"Just a favor for a damn good fightin' man," he waved my thanks aside, "and good luck finding home," he took my hand and shook it again, "it were a real pleasure meetin' up with ya, Cap'n Jenkins."

"The pleasure was mine . . ." I noticed the stripes on his uniform, they'd been hidden under the duster he'd worn, "Sergeant Branford Smiley," I raised a hand in salute, not only to him, but to all the brave men that had fought with him. He returned it proudly.

Of what we drank, Mickey only had a taste, saying that he didn't really like the stuff so he watched us, laughing at the three's antics as they got rip-roaring drunk. I had a few sips and sat back and napped, dreaming of my sweet Dawn and praying that she'd made out okay. I wanted to get an early start. I still had twenty miles to go and meant to leave at sunrise. With any luck, I'd make it to Jenkins Plantation, or what was left of it, by early afternoon.

---

As I came down the over-grown, weedy road, I spotted the first of the old out-buildings. As I approached, I saw the weather damage wreaked by the lack of maintenance. It was abandoned and dilapidated. It took me a long while to recognize it as Mammy Letty's old shack. I sighed as I looked around it and out into the fields of weeds that had once been yellow with cotton blossoms. It wasn't a fit place to camp, so I moved on down the road, not wanting to face the old house if the old shack was in this condition. I walked up to one of the old hideouts I'd had as a young boy. I wasn't yet twenty, but I felt like an old, old man. Squatting by my old hideout, memories flooded my mind, remembering how I'd hidden in it and spied on Mammy Letty and old Sam. Picking up the old board half-hidden under the leaves, I spotted the old folded up oil-skin I'd used in rainy weather. It was still in good condition and, without thinking much, I spread it out and lay a couple of my rifle-muskets and the supplies in it. I wrapped them up water-tight, tied the package with some leather thongs and buckled my pistol around my waist, making sure that I had my ammo pouches full of shot, powder and caps.

After I covered my cache, I stood, adjusted my cap and, a rifle musket cradled in my arms, began a wary walk to the main house. I remembered all the burned out shells of plantation homes I'd seen during my ride home and steeled myself to see nothing but the burned wreckage of my old home. I heard a small noise to my left and dropped to one knee, pointing my musket in the general direction of the sound. As I focused on the shadows, I made out a doe, looking out at me as unafraid as if we were old friends. I looked around and rolled the hammer back down gently, checking to see that my gun-flap was loose. I only had the one shot in the musket, but all six cylinders in the Navy pistol had a double load of powder behind the balls. The road followed the river and, as I rounded a bend, I finally saw the old house. It seemed none the worse for the wear, although it looked to be in bad need of white-washing. However, it still stood, looking a lot smaller than I remembered it.

I walked up to it, my eyes full of unshed tears, seeing, in my mind, the porch with my parents sitting on the veranda and sipping lemonade and tea. I was brought back to reality as I put my foot on the bottom step and heard it creak in complaint. I looked down and saw the weathered wood and stepped back. It had looked okay from a distance, but up close, I could see tht the inside looked too bright through windows covered with torn and tattered oil paper. Looking at it, I could see that it was completely empty, light shining in through gaping holes in the roof. I could smell the stale odor of burned wood and lime and the tears welled up in my eyes.

It had been burned, but most of it had been saved. For what? I wondered as I walked to the side and looked around. The only thing left of the old plantation fields were a few scrubby rows of corn, drying on the stalk and what looked like some grave markers. I didn't wonder whose they were for long as I walked among them. They all lay next to Momma's grave and I read Daddy's name, then Happy's and a few of the nigras that had stayed including James. Some faithful nigra had buried them and, it looked like, kept up the graves. There wasn't much else to see and I wondered how I was going to make it through the coming winter. I, at least, needed food to last through the winter and to survive. I also needed to get some winter crops in now. The old house was worthless, but the barn-side shed, once a stable for the mules was in better condition so I headed back and got my things, including the oil-skin pack. I figured to bed down in the old shed for at least a few days.

As I dropped my things in the shed, I heard a beautiful voice singing softly. I left the musket on top of my things and pulled my pistol out, easing through the door and around the corner to the old watering trough. As I peeked around the edge of the barn, I saw a head with long, dark-brown hair scrubbing a raised arm. It was a girl's arm. A nicely tanned arm. I wondered if some Mexicans were passing through. They'd be a long way from home, but this damn war had brought along many things. I peered around, trying to see if she was alone and if she had any weapons. Her voice was beautiful and the tinkling of laughter in the song fished up a barely remembered familiarity. I scooted quietly around between the shed and the trough, rising to my feet as I walked around, my pistol hanging forgotten in my hand. I knew that voice. As her face came into view, I saw my beautiful baby girl, her face a little older. She had to be thirteen or fourteen by now and she had grown. My Lord she had grown - and even more beautiful.

She stared up at me, not understanding for a few seconds, who this white man was standing in front of her. She'd been raped by one a year gone and her heart pounded with fear as she thought that this might be another.

"How are you, Dawn?" I whispered softly, tossing my cap and my gun aside.

"Who . . ." Dawn examined my face in astonishment.

"I'm home," I moaned reaching for her.

"NO!" she screamed and doubled her fists as if to hit me, "Marsa Joe-ee?!"

"It's me," I whispered, pulling her to me.

"Oh, my Marsa Joey," she moaned suddenly jumping to her feet in the water, "my Marsa Joey," she moaned again and again.

"Yes, love," I whispered, "I'm finally home."

I held her back for a few moments, admiring her leggy curves and burgeoning hips, the beautiful, small breasts, then I pulled her to me. Pressing my lips to hers, I kissed her, her face, her hair, her neck and back to her full lips, suckling on her tongue when she got tired of suckling on mine. We hugged tight, kissing and caressing each other for a long time, unable to get enough of each other. She felt so soft, so warm, so alive. By the time I finally let her go, she was almost dry.

"What was ya doin'?" I smiled running my eyes up and down her naked body once more as I sat on the edge of the trough. Even with me sitting, she was still much shorter than me.

"Why, ah was a'bathin' fo' ya, Marsa Joey," she grinned happily.

I threw my head back and laughed.

"Got room f'one mo' in thar?" I grinned undoing my pistol belt, kicking off my boots and undoing my clothes.

"Well," Dawn grinned, "th' tub's big 'nough, wanna scrub my back?"

I could only grin. The old horse trough, as a bathtub, was huge. Dawn smiled up at me. She'd used the trough a number of times and it was big enough for five. Slipping in next to her, I pulled her to me, pressing my lips to hers and giving her several long, slow kisses as I held her tight. I slowly kissed my way down her neck and chest down to the water line. Dawn sighed pleasurably as I caressed her breasts, dipping my head underwater to lick and suckle her stiff little nipples. She caressed my stiffening cock, marveling at it's size and stiffness. I was so very eager, so very ready for her and wanted her so damn much.

As for Dawn, she was glad that she was a woman and that, if it came down to it, all she had to do was lie back and let me wear myself out on her. She chuckled at the thought as she fondled my stiff prick lovingly, kissing me for several more long minutes. As we calmed a little, she straddled my lap, guiding my heavy prick into her slick, waiting pussy. For her, the combination of the warm spring air, the relaxing bath and now the erotic feel of my so very stiff prick filling her so wonderfully, had her feeling as if she were flying and she felt as high as if she was smoking jimson or loco weed. She closed her eyes and let the arousing feeling wash over her. She felt as if she was a part of me, a second body attached at the end of my prick and we made love effortlessly, moving as if with one mind, her body following my will and command. She realized for the umpteenth time, that she was mine and mine alone and she was glad that she was. She gasped and came as she realized what and who she was, who she belonged to, heart, mind and soul.

"My Marsa!" she cried cumming once again from the sheer pleasure the word evoked in her, "I belong to my Marsa Joe!" she came again, her cunt squeezing powerfully around my thrusting prick, "my Joe."

I felt her cumming, her cunt squeezing so delightfully on my prick and I cried out with her each time she came. Neither of us had any idea how long we made love and didn't care. Dawn felt as if she was on a cloud of lust and love the like of which she'd never been on before, feeling as if she were climbing higher and higher each time she came. I held out, trying to make myself last. It was such an exquisite torture and I so thoroughly loved her squeezing pussy. It had been so long - so damn long. Too many good men had died in the terrible conflict and Dawn helped me lose myself, forget it all, if only temporarily, in her wonderful adoration. To Dawn, it seemed as if we made love for an amazingly long time, but she finally felt her belly cramping and, with a long, shrill gasp she came hard. I felt her warmth gushing onto my hammering cock-head and I, too, cried out and sank deep into her, power-blasting my hot cum into her, filling her belly with my long pent-up load of steaming cum.

We floated in the water, locked in each other's arms and almost drowning as we shook pleasurably. A long time later, Dawn slid off me and we washed each other, more for the touching and caressing than to clean each other, relaxing in the cool rainwater. A long while later, we got out and dried off with the blankets from my sleeping roll. As we dressed, we talked, planning what we to do now, which direction we needed to take. There was no longer just me. I now had my woman back and that changed my outlook and the future no longer looked bleak.

We continued talking and Dawn told me that when Mammy Letty had passed, she'd hung around in the old cabin until a stray deserter had stumbled on her. After satisfying his lust, he'd fallen asleep and she'd escaped, running half-naked through the woods until she'd gotten lost. When morning came, she figured out where she was and made her way back to the old plantation house, caught up with Sairy and they'd moved on, living off the land, pretty much hand to mouth.

I thought about that, cursed myself for what she'd endured at the hands of that man, and about the plans I was making as Dawn clung to my hand patiently. She'd go wherever I went, do whatever I wanted her to do, die for me or with me - and I made up my mind. A few days later, we had harvested what we could of the standing dry corn and shucked it mostly for seed. The following day, as I cussed the sun and poked the fuck stick into the earth, dropping seeds in the holes, I saw a stray mule, pathetically trying to eat through a hard bit in it's mouth. When I caught it, I saw the "US" brand on it's rump. A Union Army mule that had strayed or gotten loose. The remains of the harness on it showed that it had been an artillery mule. Looking it over, I thought about how it was trained to pull and remembered the old plow in the shed. I could toss away the old fuck stick and use the plow. It was a God-send. I checked it over and found that it had good teeth and still seemed healthy in spite of being half-starved. It followed me docilely as I led it into the stable and, after I got the bit from it's mouth, munched happily on the old hay. I didn't worry about it eating too much. Unlike horses, mules had enough common sense not to overeat, even when they were starving. I gave it a couple of handfuls of the corn I had left and went in to Dawn. I still hadn't seen anybody anywhere around. The nigras had all scattered to the four winds.

A day or so later, as I worked on the damaged harness from the mule, I spotted someone watching from a small stand of trees close to the barn. I didn't let on that I'd seen him and pulled Dawn into the stable with me.

"What's wrong," she asked worriedly as I stared out through a crack between two of the boards in the wall.

"Somebody out there hidden in the trees," I muttered, "stay here," I handed her my cavalry pistol, "I'm gonna see what his business is."

She nodded apprehensively as I hefted one of my muskets and checked the primer and powder. I quickly slipped out between two loose boards on the shed's side and Indian crawled until I figured I was behind the stranger. I gingerly stepped around a couple of trees and saw him, still peering around a tree. I couldn't see or feel anybody else, so I squatted on one knee and rolled the hammer back. As the stranger heard the distinctive clacking of the musket's hammer, he froze for a second, then dropped onto his belly, covering his head.

"Don' shoot! Please Marsa, don' shoot!" he scrabbled around on the ground, "I's only a po' nigra! Don' shoot! Please!" he cried.

I watched him pitilessly as he sobbed and pleaded for his life. He was completely bald, except for a fringe of gray, kinky hair around his head. I kept the musket pointed at his chest, but kept my finger off the trigger.

"I ain't a'gonna shoot," I finally said, "stand up an' lemme see yo' face."

"Oh, yassah! Yassah," he pushed himself off, dusting his trembling hands.

His face looked familiar, but I kept my the musket trained on him.

"Who is you and what you doin' here," I demanded.

"W-well, sah, I use-ta live here oncet," he shivered in fear, rolling his eyes, "m-muh name be's Joshua Jenkins, sah."

I raised the muzzle, reached under the cocked hammer and pulled the primer off.

"An' before I manumitted you, you was known as Sultan the Groom," I added, pocketing the primer and letting the hammer down gently.

He stared at me for a few seconds, examining my face closely.

"Marsa!" he exclaimed joyously, "Marsa Joey! Be's dat you, sah?" he took a step toward me, reaching a trembling hand out to touch me.

"Yes, it is," I sighed, cradling the musket in my arm, "come on, my woman should have some supper fixed, poor as it is."

I led the way around to the door. Dawn hadn't been able to see us as we talked, all she heard was some undecipherable voices. As I opened the door, the loud bang and the splintering wood by my shoulder sent me onto belly. Joshua screamed and fell to the ground just inside the door. I looked up to see a very surprised Dawn staring at us, the pistol lying on the hard packed earthen floor by her bare feet.

"Damn, woman!" I howled, "th' damyankees almost killed me and now you tryin', too? Damn near succeeded, too!"

"Oh, Marsa," she reverted, "oh, no, Marsa! No! I didn' kill yo' did I?" she sobbed as she dropped beside me, wrapping her arms around me.

"Ah, hell," I pulled her to me, "no, mah luck's still good, the bullet missed me."

Joshua slowly sat up as I rolled, pulling Dawn over me and smiling up at her. Then I pressed my lips to hers. She opened her mouth and closed her eyes, relaxing into me and suckling happily on my tongue.

"Oh-h, my, yes," she sighed, "dat's what I missed the mos'es, mah sweet Joe," she kissed me again, her soft hands cupping my cheeks - dat's what I missed the mos'es.

Joshua sat looking astonished.

"Be's dat . . . Dawn?" he quavered.

Dawn's head snapped around, not recognizing the voice, but recognizing the weathered face.

"Joshua!" she smiled in welcome and rolled off me.

We talked as we ate stewed rabbit, wild cabbage and dandelions, seasoned with some salt pork I'd traded a haunch of venison for. I figured on getting a few piglets in the spring and growing some for market. Josh and I were both hungry and we dug into the stew heartily. As we ate we talked about what had happened around the old place. Since Dawn had left before Mammy Letty had died, she didn't know where everybody had gone. Joshua had kept in touch with some of the former slaves and had heard about most of the others from those he'd kept in touch with. He'd come back many times to visit the old plantation, but hadn't been back in several weeks and hadn't seen Dawn until today. He it was who'd collected the various bodies and buried them, getting an old white man to letter the grave markers. When he'd come by earlier, he'd seen the activity and hung around to see what was going on, telling me that he'd been more or less living off the land, using spring traps and snares to catch rabbits and squirrels.

He told us of skinning the small game with his teeth and bare hands and told us how he easy it were. We laughed when he said that the hardest part was spitting all the soft fur out. Both, rabbit and squirrel underfur was so fine that it stuck to his gums and made him look as if he had a beard growing out of his mouth. We all laughed over that. When I asked Joshua about staying and working the farm with me, he readily agreed, adding that Zekial and Ham might be wanting to come, too. And, since they was married, they had some kids that could do some of the chores. All they wanted was food since money was something they couldn't eat. I couldn't remember Zekial and Ham, although I did remember writing their names down on their manumissions.

"You 'member Tobias and Blue who used ta push dem mules in da fields?" Joshua smiled, licking stray bits of stew off his fingers.

"Yeah, yeah," I smiled, tapping my head.

"Well, Blue took Ham Jenkins and Tobias took Zekial Jenkins for dey names when you manumitted dem, 'member?"

"Absolutely," I nodded, "pair of damn fine workers. Be proud to work aside them."

Joshua stared at me for a second.

"Work aside 'em?"

"Well, of course," I nodded, "gotta lay in summat before the winter hits. Summat to eat like winter cabbage and maybe corn. Gotta cut the grass by the river and put it up for winter hay for the mule. I'd like to spare some corn for the mule, too. It's too damn skinny and still a little weak."

Joshua nodded in agreement.

"Can't guarantee any vegetables 'cept for what grows wild, but I can promise plenty of meat. The hunting's still good roundabouts, but I don't wanna clean the land of deer. I got wind of some wild pigs and I'll get alla dose I kin . . ."

"Marsa Joey, to a man what's starvin' a squirrel be's a feast!" Joshua laughed.

Dawn finished cleaning out the pot and snuggled in between my legs the way she used to as a tiny girl. I smiled and hugged her to me.

"I'll go tell Zekial and Ham to hie demsefs here come morning. Dey's be glad to come, knowing you's here, Marsa."

"You may as well f'git the Marsa Joe, Joshua," I shook my head, thinking that this was a new time and a new world, "if you gotta call me summat than my given name, call me Cap'n or Cap'n Joe. This ain' no marsa nor slave time no more. Even "Boss" sounds better'n marsa."

"Yas, sah, Cap'n Joe," Joshua nodded, smiling wide.

After the old nigra left, Dawn and I went to bed. She'd made us one of sweet grass under one of my blankets and we were soon snuggling under them.

"It'll be good to have some help," I kissed her, caressing her young, firmly conical breasts.

She'd been barely showing a pair of little bumps when I'd left. Now she had a beautiful, conical pair of breasts that promised to be as full and heavy as Happy's had been by the time she reached her full growth. I suckled on her thick, maroon nipples, kneading her breasts gently.

"Ooh," she whimpered softly, caressing my working hands, "dat's so nice."

As I suckled, I let go of her luscious little breasts and ran my hands down her smooth flanks, gripping her hips and kneading the sides of her buttocks. I hadn't had enough of my little girl yet, not near enough.

"Marsa Joey," she crooned softly, "I don't care what you say 'bout callin' ya Cap'n . . . you's my marsa. You'll allus be my Marsa."

I pushed her legs further apart and speared her softly giving cunt with my hard, stiff cock. She gasped and cried out softly, wrapping her arms around my head, rocking back and forth as I planted my own fuck-stick deep into her very fertile furrow. Joshua had said that the land around the house had lain fallow for the last couple of seasons, but there was also another fertile field that had lain fallow for too long and I aimed to plant my seed deep in it. I slammed hard into her, rocking her small body with my pounding thrusts. A few minutes later, she stiffened, pressing my face tightly to her lusciously firm little breasts. Easing off, she cried out, her young hips rolling to meet mine with each of my ramming thrusts, moaning and babbling incoherently. My little darling came a couple more times before she lay back and let me spend myself in her. Whispering soft words of love and caressing my back and neck as I rammed heavily into her.

I didn't hold anything back. I loved the way her little cunt grabbed and squeezed my plunging prick, loved the feel of her soft, unresisting flesh giving way, but I couldn't hold back and cried out as my hot spermy cum sprayed hard into her. My little woman cried out her lust as she felt my liquid love pouring into her. I pounded into her again and again, my sperm filling her with each thrust until I finally had no more to give her.

"My Marsa," Dawn crooned softly, hugging me tight, "my darling Marsa."

I panted, lying heavily atop her as she caressed me, her firm thighs squeezing my hips as I got my breath back.

"My baby girl," I murmured, smilind down into her dusky, smiling face, "my sweetest, little, baby girl. You'll always be mine . . . always. I'll never, ever sell you. I'll keep you with me always and always, forever."

She smiled happily, wrapping her arms around me and hugging me tight.

The next morning, I stepped out of the shed and found Zekial and Ham with their families sitting on the old porch waiting for me. As I stared at them for a few minutes, Joshua walked up leading the fully harnessed mule. I didn't know what to say and we all stared at each other until Joshua broke the silence.

"Ah mended the old harness las' night," he turned and patted the mule's rump, "tain't purty, but it'll hold," he grinned big, "found th' old plow and we's ready to do some plowin'. She look good in harness, don' she?"

"Could use 'nother couple'a more mules er donkeys, either one," Ham noted.

"Know a nigra down a ways that gots a spare mule. Reckon as how ah kin go see if he'll loan it," Zekial added.

"What you think he'll want for it?" I asked.

Zekial as Tobias, had always had a mournful expression on his face, rarely smiling, but he gave me a half-grin.

"Don' rightly know. Nevah reckoned much on it."

"Gotta deer haunch ya kin take as a present fer botherin' him," I noted, "planned on smoking it, but I ain't got nothin' to smoke it in."

Joshua chuckled and Ham smiled. Zekial only nodded, pulled out a corncob pipe, stuffed some wild tobacco in and lit it. I pulled my shrinking pouch of tobacco and my scraps of paper, rolling me one and held the pouch out.

"Ennybody care fer a smoke?"

Ham hesitated, but he finally took it and a scrap of paper.

"Never larned how to," Joshua waved his hand, "don't needa larn now."

"It is a vice," I nodded, taking a deep pull as Dawn held a burning straw for me and Ham to light our cigarettes.

Zekial leaned forward, sucking on the flame until he had his pipe restarted, nodding his thanks at Dawn.

"I be's leavin' my fambly wit' choo, Ham," Zekial stood puffing on his pipe, "see that my youngest don't shirk none, hear?"

A few minutes later, he had the deer haunch on his shoulder and headed off through the woods. I gazed around at my new help. From no help to nine people, less Zekial, and I was almost at a loss as to what to do first.

"What ya want we should do, Cap'n?" Ham stood and wiped his hands on his weathered dungarees.

"Well, I'll tell you what needs doin' and I'll let you figure out what you wanna do, okay?" I sighed, running my fingers through my hair.

"Sounds fair," Ham's wife, a wide-hipped woman with enormous breasts smiled as Ham nodded and carefully put his cigarette out, saving the stub.

I did the same, not knowing when I'd get a fresh supply of tobacco. We'd always grown it here, but usually just enough for our use.

"Well, lessee . . . I need a good supply of grass laid in for the mule for winter. Best place to get it is down by the bend in the river. It's nice and tall. Bring it back and spread it out on the verandah of the old house to dry. We need to finish plowing the old cornfield and sow some more corn. I found some old cabbage and tomato seed, could plant it among the corn and see of any will grow. Ham, can you make a couple of hoes and rakes with the old wood?" he nodded with assurance and I continued, "I found some potatoes growing wild. Once we clear the garden by the old house, we can cut 'em up for planting," I sighed heavily, "there's lots more to do, build shelters and maybe later, some cabins."

Rachel was Zekial's woman. They'd been together for about thirteen years and had five kids. The oldest was thirteen, the youngest was three. They'd had four die of various diseases and she'd miscarried one. Moreena was Ham's woman. They'd only been together since Daddy had freed Ham. She'd lived on a neighboring plantation and they only had one child, a two year old girl. As they looked at one another, Ham stood and began organizing the details. He told Rachel to leave Rollie, the oldest boy, to clear the field by the house, and Aaron, the next eldest, with Moreena to help clear corn stalks with him while Joshua did the tilling, adding for her to take the rest of her children to gather grass for the mule. He also intended to keep the corn stalk as filler food for the mule, telling me that Moreena could make a real good corn stalk soup.

Over the next few days, we made a lot more progress than I'd thought possible and over the following weeks, we made a good start for the spring. That winter was still pretty hard, but we survived. By January, Dawn was pregnant with my child and I was deliriously happy over it. We were lucky that the winter wasn't very severe. Zekial and I foraged and got a lot of small game to go with the winter squash and cabbage. The mule survived on the dried grass, corn stalks, tailings from the vegetables and a few cups of corn.

The first Sunday of the new spring dawned clear and bright. Before summer arrived, Dawn, with Moreena and Rachel's help presented me with a son. It was the start of a brand new life.