She glanced at Harriet. Her eyes shimmered with pride. Even little Isaac watched his papa with wide-eyed interest.
Samuel, who had been leaning against Natalie with drooping eyes, got to his knees so he could see the book better.
“Some o’ you know my massa some years back was a preacher man. He a good man. Loved the Lawd. He talked ’bout givin’ me my freedom papers from time to time. We’s livin’ in Lu’siana back then, and it weren’t a good place for a Negro to be turned loose, so I stays with him.” Moses gazed out to the fields with a thoughtful look, perhaps reliving the past in his mind.
“Just befo’ Rev’rend Adams passed on, he says to me, ‘Moses, I wants you to have my Bible when the Lawd takes me on home.’ He’d taught me my letters, and I could read a few words here and there.” A frown tugged his brow. “After he die, they put me on the block down in New O’leans, fixin’ to sells me. I had this here Bible fastened to my leg with rope, under my trousers.” He glanced briefly at Natalie. “Them traders sometime make the slave take off their clothes, so’s a buyer can see what they gettin’. I’s prayin’ they don’t ask that of me, otherwise they find the Bible.”
Natalie had never heard such candid talk from a slave—former slave—about the markets. Shamefully, she’d never considered what they must’ve gone through before her father or father-in-law or some other buyer purchased them and took them home. She peeked at the others in the group, their rapt attention on Moses. Had each of them experienced the disturbing scenario he’d just described?
“Massa Boyd buys me lickety-split, so I’s not have to worry no more ’bout them findin’ my book. He brings me an’ some others to Texas, plannin’ to put us to work in the cane fields. I’s glad when Massa Langford buys me from Massa Boyd to drive his carriage.” His gaze landed on Harriet. “I’s had me a good life since I come here.”
After a moment, he turned his full attention to Natalie. “Miz Natalie, I want to ’pologize for bein’ dishonest ’bout having this here Bible all these years. I know it was against the rules to have a book, but this one be mighty special to me. I hope you can forgive me for keepin’ it hidden.”
The earnest request caused moisture to spring to her eyes. Here was her former slave, asking for forgiveness for owning a Bible when it was she who had claimed ownership of him. It was her husband who’d sold his sons. Why wasn’t he demanding an apology from her instead of seeking her pardon?
“There is nothing to forgive, Moses,” she finally said, her voice thick with emotion.
An understanding passed between them.
He flipped through its pages. “I cain’t read most o’ these words, but they is two that is my fav’rites.” He smiled broadly. “God … and Jesus. When I come ’cross one o’ them, I tells ya, my heart skip with joy. Don’t matter that I don’t know what the words ’round them say. Only matter that they’s in this book, and they’s in my heart.”
The service ended a short time later. Carolina and several others rushed forward to look at the treasured book. Unless they’d been house servants, most had probably never held one in their hands, though even house servants were forbidden to learn to read.
Making her way back to the manor, Natalie couldn’t help but wonder what would have happened to Moses had George or his father learned the Negro had the book.
She shuddered. The thought was too awful to imagine.
Natalie retreated to the privacy of her sitting room, desperately needing the quiet to sort through the tangle of confused emotions swirling through her mind and heart. She hadn’t been there long when Ebenezer announced the arrival of visitors. Her open window faced north, so she wasn’t able to see who was coming, but the dog’s incessant barking didn’t stop. Alexander Lopez had sent word through one of his vaqueros that he’d hoped to visit her the coming week, so she didn’t expect to see the Tejano today.
Could it be Colonel Maish, arriving to check on his men?
The flutter in her stomach sent her racing to the long mirror in her bedroom. She smoothed her hair, wishing she’d spent more time fashioning it that morning rather than resorting to the simple braid she’d taken to wearing lately. Perhaps she could quickly pin it in a coil. At least she’d chosen one of her better gowns in honor of the Lord’s Day. The sheer fabric was not only cooler than her silks and cottons, but the pale green set off her complexion in a way Mama had always told her would be the envy of other women.
A thread of conscience worked its way into her thoughts, recalling Corporal Banks’ comments about the colonel’s family. She’d wondered many times since that day if he referred to the man’s wife and children, or simply parents and siblings. While freshening her appearance for a visitor was not unusual, she certainly wouldn’t want to attract the attention of another woman’s husband.
Her hands stilled, and she gazed at her reflection. Was that what she hoped to do? Attract the Yankee?
“Miz Natalie!” Carolina called from the foyer, something she would not have done had she still been a slave. “A wagon is comin’. It’s wearin’ one o’ them canvas coverin’s.”
Natalie frowned. A covered wagon? Colonel Maish rode his horse when he came to Rose Hill. Unless he was bringing additional supplies or men, she had to assume the Yankee was not their visitor. Disappointment washed over her
