Flight of Fancy: Cora's Daughters (24 page)

Broc surprised her by stopping next to a vegetable stand - he bought them each a big red apple. Tossing one to Asa, who caught it, and next to his wife. Asiza caught hers, smiling and winking at him, she took a bite with her eyes going round from the magnificent taste of the ripe sweet apple.

“Good?” He called back loudly to ask her.

She gave a vigorous nod of her head, taking a second bite, and looking up at Asa, saw he was enjoying his as well. He sat straight and proud, looking out from on top of Nik-Nik as if a young prince without a care in the world, eating his juicy fruit.

Chapter Sixteen

Once off the boat their journey was indeed slow, walking through the vast town. Broc needed to find the right road that would lead them to the place he had in mind to take them. The moment they were on the right track, leaving the close cluster of the populace behind - the numbers of people thinned out enough for them to mount their horses.  

Asiza could now ride beside her husband, who rode with Asa sitting before him.

“Where we goin’?” She asked, right away.

“You’ll see.” Broc answered, preoccupied with watching for landmarks.

“Don’ wanna see, wanna know.” She sassed.

Exasperated already, because he knew he would soon be in a fight with her once she knew where he was taking her, he took a deep breath, starting with, “Time not on our side Asiza, I have to get started on getting’ us set up. Winter be here soon.”

“So where we goin’?” She pressed.

“I have a list of things to purchase, supplies – building materials, got to hire help as well.” He beat around the bush.

“That where we goin’?” She questioned on.

Broc rode for a bit, trying to get his words right. “The season’s changing, an’ it’s different from the south Asiza… it gets cold, real cold. I won’t have you – or our lil’man, out in the cold.” He started trying to explain, rubbing Asa’s belly affectionately.

Asiza was quiet for a moment, taking that in.

By now, she could tell he was hiding something from her.

“Why ain’you tellin’ me where we goin’?” She asked - her tone made it clear that she was running out of patience.

“Asiza Wolf… I am your husband… you hear? Now, when I come to a decision – as my wife, you follow what I tell you, you hear?”

“I have to see to you first, you and Asa – you my family. Any man that don’t see to the needs of his family jus' ain’t no man.”

Due to riding side by side, their three other horses trailing behind – one could look over at the other. Broc could feel her eyes on him.

He turned to meet them.

“What you tellin’ me?” She asked.

“I’m… signing you into a boarding school, a house for Negro women, they’ll take Asa too. While there, the governess or, the lady there, a…” he looked at his note, trying to remember how her name was to be said, he wasn’t that good at reading himself, then remembered, “Ms. Anderson, Della – or Ms. Della is the name most call her by… she’ah see that you get clothes made for you, for Asa too. You’ll have a room to yourself… and while there, you’ll learn to read, write… talk proper.” His slightly baritone voice, softened to tell her.

“I ain’ goin’ t’no boardin’-…”

“Oh yes you are.” Broc cut her off.

“I ain’t!”

“You are!”

“I’mo run off!”

“Goddamn you Asiza - goddamn you!” He almost threw his hat to the ground, but instead slapped it against his thigh. Sighing in exasperation, he shoved it back on his head and glared at her, “You ready t’get yer’self killed? You gone run off where? You gone leave Asa? Hm? You do, dammit…” He shuffled in the saddle, looking for an answer on how to handle her, “…I’ah track you down and drag you right back! You hear me Asiza Wolf?! Dag-blasted you’ah stubborn ornery soul! As yer’husband I say what is t’be, and you as m’wife will follow! Now, I’ve put my foot down. That’s final – you hear?”

Asiza went quiet with her lip poked out, giving him dirty looks. Of course she wouldn’t leave Asa, she’d take him with her, but then, how would she be able to survive with him? It would be too hard on him. Even though she knew that to be true, she still cast dirty looks her husband’s way.

“Look at me anyway you want! I’m gonna do right by you if it kills me! Lord knows, it might…” he muttered the latter and then, “…but if it don’t, we gone be better than we started out - me, a bounty hunter and you a fancy… them days are over.”

“I neva’ was no fancy no way.” She grumbled.

Broc smiled, “That’s the truth – after all, I meet you ‘cause they was all scared to come get you.”

“Why wasn't you sca'ed?”

Broc harrumphed, “Nothin' t'be scared of, not for me anyway.”

“I cud'ah kilt you two times.”

“You didn't.”

“Don' matta' what I did, what matta' is what I cud'ah!”

“Asiza Wolf, stop it right now. Always wantin’ta fight a body. It matters what you did, not what you could've done – you didn't kill me – 'cause you knew who I was. Now, that's that!”

She had to get the last word in, with her nose in the air, “You cud’ah took me in.”

“No I couldn't have Asiza. Maybe another man, but not me. Before I even set eyes on you, I knew. Then, one look at you, it was clear, you was to be
my
fancy. Mine and mine alone, just for me, my mate, my wife.”

She was beginning to notice that he could talk himself in and out of her heart like breathing – returning to grin and flirt. Even so, this was different, he was about to leave them. Lip still out, Asiza shook her head, denying his words, “You bout t’drop us off… and you said you won't ever leave me. Maybe some man come along, want me wit’im all the time, take me as his fancy, while you gone.” She said to be mean.

“Not unless he want his head taken off. You hear me? I ain’t come all this way with you, go through all I have, only t’lose you.” He warned, and then calming a bit, sounding hurt, “You mean t’tell me, you’ah let another man have you-…”

“No.” Hearing him say it that way, with a hint of hurt, made her droop, she stopped him right away, “I ain’ mean it…” she hated the sound of it, wishing she’d never said such a thing, “Ain’ nobody – no man, I want over you. But, how you gone jus’ - leave us.” She moaned.

Broc pulled the reigns of his horse, placing them in Asa’s hands, “Hold her for me lil’man.” He was off the horse in an instant making his way to Asiza’s, pulling her to the ground. With his hands at her waist, he stood sighing out loud, wondering what had he gotten himself into with this so called,
fancy
. There they were, on a rural road, amidst a scattering of trees with a breeze that blew to warn – cold days and freezing nights were on the way.

With her back against Flower, Asiza resisted looking up at her husband, no matter how he tugged at her chin for her to look him in the eyes.

After a bit, he gave up, “Asiza, you think I wanna be away from you? Hm? You can be sure, it’s nothing to look forward to. Don’t make this harder for me than it is – you know how I feel about you.”

“Don’ leave us.” She murmured, but still wouldn’t look up.

“Asiza, I promise you, I’ah work as fast as I can.”

She finally lifted her eyes to look into his, “Why can’t I work wit’you? What you gone do?”

“I can’nah take you with me ‘Seeza – I won’t. There’s loads of things to be done. With the cold comin’, I’ah not risk you or Asa. I’ve been north – I know how cold it gets. I’ve land to buy, and Oxen to work it. Build us a home. A big barn for our livestock. Hire help, start collectin’ everythin’ I need, so when I get there, we can start buildin’. Soon as I get it up… a solid roof over our head, and other things as well - I’ah be comin’ for you, comin’ for Asa.” He assured her. “Say you believe me - ain’t lied to you yet, have I?”

She shook her head. Asiza loved him so much she couldn’t imagine being separated from him, even for a little while.  

“Let me do this for us ‘Seeza. While you wait, I want you to fit yourself with the finest clothes ever made, for you and Asa. I’ll be leaving you with plenty o’gold, so you don’t depend on nobody but me. Want you to learn, to read, and write – do sums. You gonna have to keep up with that money. You doin’ that, is all the help I need. Please?”

A wagon and a few horses with riders passed them. Curiosity had the travelers glancing their way, but they carried on by.

He tried to wait it out to see if she would give in, she was stubborn and hard-headed, but he loved her, would do anything for her – which meant accepting her sometimes difficult disposition, docile Asiza was not. “Dusk is here, soon it’ah be dark, come wantin’ t’find this place before it’s too late.”

He lifted her back onto Flower’s back, stroking her thigh – giving it a little squeeze. Small gestures asking that she understand. Returning to his horse, he mounted up once more behind Asa, who observed them both with such insightful intelligent eyes for one so young.

“Ms. Broc, it won’t be so bad, I’ll be with you.” Asa spoke to her across the way. She glanced at him – giving him a gentle smile. Fifteen minutes later, they rode up to where he would be leaving them. 

Broc and Asiza sat motionless on their mounts. Dusk was upon them, with the sun going down, the most orange they’d ever seen was shining off the structure before them. Whatever he imagined they might find, it wasn’t what they stared at. Leon had explained that it was a private boarding house and school. Many philanthropists – after visiting, took pride in donating towards the cause.

Della Anderson’s School & Board

– Free colored women’s way forward –

The big wooden sign said, sitting right out front within the white picket fence. The boarding school was a massive colonial style mansion that looked to hold many rooms. It was clean, beautiful and well maintained. White painted columns adorned a red brick building, with black wrought iron banisters along the upstairs bedrooms. Along both sides, there were three cabins each, which meant six in total. Far back behind the mansion, in the distance, there were other out-buildings as well. Needless to say, Broc was impressed. While they sat looking it over, a few young women, doing outside chores in the garden, looked their way - each stood - one of them dashed inside. 

“What you think ‘Seeza? Ain’t so bad… an’ a Negro woman runs it with a bunch of teachers – just for women like you.”

She was quiet, the closer they came to getting her inside, the sooner she had to face him leaving her there. Her eyes met his, sad – and fighting what he was making her do.

“Broc… what if-…” Before she could finish, a kind voice, called out to them. “Good evening to you, looking for me?”

They both turned to see a full size woman, smartly dressed, with a smile on her lovely face that gave the impression that she was easily approachable. Her dark hair was piled up with twists and turns and a low bun in the back - kiss curls and delicate tresses surrounded her pretty round face. Standing in the door behind her was the one who'd run to fetch her.

Broc smiled, “Yes ma’am, if you Ms. Della?”

“Yes sir, I am, you’re in the right place. Now, how can I help you?” She asked, still smiling, her eyes constantly going to Asiza.

“Well ma’am, I’m in need of your boarding house, for…” He looked at Asiza, “…for my wife, my lil’man here.” It had never occurred to Broc to call her anything else but his wife.

As far as he was concerned, they were north and that to him meant, free. Free meant… he could rightfully call Asiza his wife.

This was regardless of the laws put in place that stated otherwise, however, miscegenation laws were stricter in the south than north. You could get away with it in the north, as long as you kept a low profile and didn’t step on the wrong toes. Step out of line and it would be used against you once discovered.

Ms. Della’s eyes widened just a bit because she knew this, so it surprised her to hear him being so open and honest about it. Sighing, smiling, she showed white teeth and gentleness. “First things, first. How about you bring your horses in through that gate, tie them up towards the back. You’ll find water, and feed for them if you wish.”

Broc immediately dismounted, leading his little procession through the gate she’d indicated. A few moments later, all three joined the waiting lady – Broc bringing up the rear with a saddle bag over one shoulder. She escorted them inside – and immediately they were met by many curious eyes, smiles, with nods in greeting. “This way into my office please.” Della stood back so they could enter.

Her office looked as if it was used as a library and tea parlor.

With tastefully, stunning, delicate French Provencal furnishings - two sofas back to back, four chairs smartly arranged around both. In their midst, coffee tables and end tables set up to offer social comfort in the center of the feminine refuge. The back wall was covered with books, with the other three gracefully adorned with green and cream floral wallpaper, broken by paintings and large front bay windows.

Deeper into the room, towards the farthest wall amidst the books, were three long studying tables with chairs around them. Near the door, where they stood, sat her large desk and before it, two chairs faced it with a table between.