Flight of Fancy: Cora's Daughters (37 page)

Chapter Twenty-Four

Earlier, before guest arrivals,

Were it not for Rory and Boaz, or his other men wishing to attend, he might not be there. It meant pulling straws to see who would be left behind to guard their camp. He wasn’t expecting any problems, but one could never be sure. While he would share his concerns with no one, truth was, he didn’t trust white men, even though he was looked upon as white himself. Because of his Irish and Indian ancestry he knew what they were capable of, the degree of their greed.

He was a bounty hunter after all – most of the criminals he brought in were white – few of them blacks, Indians or slaves. Ironically enough, the last time he took a job to do so, was the direct cause of changing his life, for the better. 

Now, due to that life change, and the work to be done, he’d hired on four whites that showed up asking for work. They volunteered to stay and watch the camp. His mistrust of them rose to another level, making him immediately suspicious of them. Instead of taking them up on their offer, he insisted that they head into town. He did not care what they did while in town, but they were to remain there and travel back with the rest at the end of the Christmas dance. He never gave a thought to bringing them there, because they hadn’t been invited, to him, this affair didn’t include them. Therefore, he gave them drinking money to entertain themselves while in town. Not for a moment did he consider that he needed to give them a reason why – Broc simply didn’t care what they thought. Therefore, they were not included in on the pulling of straws with the others. As it was, Angelo pulled the shorter straw and Fidel wished to remain behind with his brother.

Had it not been for Broc’s strong need to speak with Rory’s father – he would have stayed behind.

Manny
was one connection he could not afford to miss. He had been strongly advised by Mr. McNeil to meet Mr. Webster - who had only just returned in time for the Christmas ball. Taking advantage of the event, Broc made it a point to be there early. His mood could not have been brighter. Having met the man along with Leon, Rory and Boaz, he was able to discuss his plans for several business ideas. Everyone knew that financial growth came from the south - from southern plantations and shipping.

As for the north, ambitious merchantmen were in their prime, growing their wealth by leaps and bounds. Maynard Webster had both - a plantation in the south and a thriving merchant business up north. He offered transport around the world and owned two ship building docks, while privately investing in several small businesses and restaurants, also up north. All of that aside, he also had access to other funds – via; his wife – thanks to her father.

Broc finally met him in his office there at Ramsey Manor. He was willing to forgive him being an Englishman because he’d already shown what he was made of - having a Negro wife – while taking on Leon as his son. To him, they had a great deal in common, so he felt that he could
trust
him. With the office door closing behind them, Manny got straight to the point, “Leon has told me a great deal about you – about your plans – how do you wish to go about them?”

“I need manpower. I have in my possession a deed to a plantation in the south, Virginia. It was once a place for breeding fancies. My wife from there. Now I have it. I’ah be using it to grow tobacco for pipe smoking - hemp and dagga –(
cannabis
)- for food, paper, clothing, medicine, other things.” Broc explained, pausing for reaction.

Manny nodded, very familiar with the multiple uses of hemp and cannabis. There was big business in trading it – along with tobacco. It was in fact, as valuable as cotton, with far more uses. If this man could yield a healthy crop come harvest, he would make a fortune.

“I see. You know anything about growing such crops?”

“It’s in my blood.” He returned proudly.

“Know this,” he continued, “I have no intention of failing – I will not. I have too much dependin’ on the success of what I have planned.” Broc asserted.

Manny gave a slow nod - he knew
that
fire of determination well. He had been the same way when he began to have control of his own life – and to have Lena, he needed to be successful and make a place for them. He swore to never rely on anyone else, ever again. Living and depending on others, once lost him his family. This man was fighting not to suffer the same. Manny had nothing but respect for that.

“Very well, exactly what type of labor do you have in mind for this plantation?” He asked directly.  

“Paid labor. Don’t believe in slave labor. I’ah provide all that needed for’em to live comfortable. All will benefit working for me there - ah, includin’ – yer’son.”

Manny’s brow bunched and lifted as his words took him aback a bit, “My son? Which… son?”

Pressing onward, he murmured, “Rory,” gesturing with a tilt of his head in Rory’s direction. He stood as all eyes turned to him, especially his father’s. Broc went on to explain.

“I can’nah be in two places at once. Buildin’ somethin’ here, a home, sawmill, black smithy for toolin’, as well breedin’ some of the best horse stock to be found anywhere, that’s my plan. Yer’son say you got four outstanding Arabian stallions. When I’m set up, I’ah pay for studs using a couple of your bucks, to start me off.”

Manny nodded, silently agreeing, listening further.

“As for the south, it’s pretty much what I already explained. Fo’it to work, I need it to look like a regular ole plantation. A white face up front, or atleas’ – one that looks the part. I need hardworkin’ men, white and Negro. Men that will stand up, if a time comes they need to.”

Manny could only stare as his mind worked to process what he was hearing. Pondering the idea, his eyes went once more to Rory.

“Son… what of your -
adventures
?”

“I get forty percent. This is a chance for me to start my own. I’ll be taking some of the money I have, and investing with him – make sure we have a decent start.”

“So, I’m asking you to please do this. You have men, access to many white and Negro who are used to working together. Who already understand how we work – who can help make this a
success
. Long as it’s done right, I know it’ll do well. I’ll make
sure
that it does.”

“It’s the
south
Rory. You grew up in New York -…”

“My last few years were at Webster Fields and with Mike at Lake Charles, before he…
burned
it to the ground. I can do this. He believes I can do it, why can’t you?”

“Yer’boy – he’s a man. I’ve watched him work – he gets on with it, don’t laze waitin’. Let him be a man, life and time is not to be wasted.” Broc spoke up.

Manny took a long deep breath, looking from him to Leon, who nodded his head, “He can do this, I know he can – simply because, he wants to. And, it gives him an opportunity to build his own. He’s ready Manny… he’s ready.”

Manny turned from Leon, his eyes on his son a spell, and finally back to Broc.

“Very well – after the new year, we shall begin. Anything else?”

“I’ah be needin’ a warehouse to transport to - while some be shipped to England, elsewhere - I plan on most bein’ sold right here. Books, business – all’ah have need for thread, clothing and paper. Not to mention, food and medicine – no medicine better than hemp and cannabis.”

Having leaned back on his desk, arms crossed over his chest, Manny nodded once more, “That can be done.” And studying the man before him a few moments, he stated, “Yes … I’m in.”

The meeting had gone better than Broc had expected. Before the guests started arriving, he also had the pleasure of meeting Manny’s wife. Doing so, further convinced him that he’d done the right thing in bringing them north for a new start.

With the festivities finally getting underway, he and Boaz browsed the estate – discussing things to come. Seeing the many carriages arriving, they stopped and stood out of view, watching the arrival of Della and her boarders.

Broc turned to Boaz, “You don’t get that woman, I’m tellin’ you, somebody else will.”

“Naaaw boss, that one right there, she be all mine.” Boaz answered, watching her smile and laugh from what one of the women was saying to her.

For once in his life, he felt confident, like a man finally in charge of his own destiny. He’d gone from job to job to get where he was after he and his brother ran – making it north. Back then, they’d stowed away on Leon’s riverboat and was discovered by Lester Winn, who’d laughed and shook his head, telling them,

“Hot in dere ain’t it? Come on out, get yo’self somethin’ t’eat – then see boss.”

Now, they were free and worked for Broc Wolf.

Boaz was determined to grow roots as Broc’s right hand man. As he did so, he had his eyes on what he knew, was a good woman to build with. Della was pretty, healthy and ultra-smart, what could be better?

In reply to Boaz’s claim, Broc suggested, “I was you, I wud’nah waste no time, this the night, make good use of it. We’ll get back to the men – I need to remind’em o’how much time we have before headin’ back.” They went to where their small group was standing, all waiting for the other guests to arrive and the greetings to be over.

Broc approached them with a smile on his face, “By all means, enjoy yer’self – meet folks – especially some young lovely to maybe, start a life with. Remember, what we buildin’, what we startin’ – as men we can build so much just fine - after that, takes a woman to grow it the res’ of the way. If you’ve a mind to find you one, this the place to start. You got one hour b’fore midnight – tha’s pleny’o’time. We pull out and you ain’ with us – I’m thinkin’ you found somethin’ better.” Broc finished.

They all knew what that meant.

Then on a lighter note he said, “When they serve up the food, eat like you hungry.” With his eyes shifting around to see who might be listening, he turned back, mumbling low for their ears only, “They can afford to feed you, so – eat good.” Surprised by his sense of humor, they looked at each other and burst into laughter. “Enjoy tonight men, tomorrow, it’s back to work – ‘til the freezin’ cold force us to stop.” He scanned them, smiled, nodded and then to Boaz, the same and left them to their own devices.

Heading down the hall towards the ballroom, he made his way past the queue of guests still waiting to greet their hosts noticing that neither his wife, Ms. Della, nor any of the faces he saw at the boarding house were present.

He passed the massive dining room to his left, where several long tables were set up. At a glance he could see, along three walls, buffet cabinets and tables were burdened with food galore.

A veritable banquet fit for a king, his queen and their subjects. His stomach growled – he had every intention of eating his fill. He continued on, searching for that one pretty face that belonged to him.

Upon reaching the grand ballroom he gazed at the procession, queued up behind him down the hall and down the few steps, and then curving around - waiting for their turn to meet the Websters.

He had searched the face of every woman standing - none of them Ms. Della, which meant, they’d gone on to where they would wait until all were called into dinner. He stepped down with a slow and confident ease, sauntering calmly behind a column he began looking for his wife. He was already feeling loose – he’d had a brandy during the meeting. It was smooth and warm, the good stuff. After it slid down his throat soothingly, he’d glanced at his empty glass appreciatively and then up at Manny.

Yes, he’d been waiting for his reaction, to see if he knew the good stuff when he had it. Broc had smiled lazily, of course he did. Right then, he recognized that this man had only the best at his disposal. Just like Maynard Ramsey Webster, he too would have only the best in his stock, or bar – he would make sure of it. He didn’t want just the best liquor - he wanted the best – of everything. Like Mr. Webster.

After all, look at his wife. Leon had told him about her, that she’d been a Princess – that he’d taken her home to visit her father, but kept her for himself. The woman was stunning.

Even so, to him, she had nothing on his Asiza. She might not be a princess, but by the time he was done, all would think that she was.

When Broc thought about the various women before him, none would ever hold within the spirit that his Asiza had. She was all woman – men were afraid of her and she … was
his
.

The thought made him chuckle to himself.

He carried on looking for her, she was not easy to spot, the room was filling quickly. He kept near to the walls and columns, searching every face. There were more whites attending than he thought would be there, and his suspicious mind immediately wondered what they were up to? He knew that some were from a few of Manny’s ships – but the numbers he saw, couldn’t all be his employees, or – could they be? He knew that even up north, they were still hunting, shopping for fancies, a young pretty, willing to be a kept woman. It was also clear, this affair was not only for Negroes, there were many Native Indians that he could see, men and women.