Cassie took a deep breath as the wagon rattled along the road towards Hawkin’s Plantation; the driver looked down from the high seat as he whipped the horses with a venom that worried her. Cassie did not know what would happen to her, and for that matter she no longer cared. The stay of execution was the end of her.  Seeing Rufus hanging next to the empty scaffold meant for her, had taken away the last dignity from her. They had even left the noose around her neck as a reminder of how close she had come to her end. She sat rocking in the bottom of the cart shivering in the cold damp cotton smock, dirty from the dust of the road. The cart slowed as they reached the impressive gate of the plantation. Cassie looked up as the cart shuddered to a halt to see Chickey chained to the gate. As her heart lifted to see her friend it quickly fell again, as, behind the gate, she saw Sean and Horace. “Another package for you, driver,” they sneered together. The driver jammed on the brake and climbed down from the cart.

"Well, aren’t you the skinny one?” he hissed as he poked Chickey with the butt of his whip. “Dangerous, is she?” he asked the lads casting his eyes over the ropes biting into her wrists and ankles.

“She was a runner. Once a runner always a runner,” quipped Horace, pleased with his humor and irony. Here’s the key,” and he tossed the key through the bars of the iron gate. “We won’t come out, we need to keep our distance from the flea ridden wretches. Good luck, and make sure they are delivered safely. Don’t let then get away.”  With this, the lads turned their back on the scene and walked off to the house laughing and pushing each other.

“Well we’ve brought a pair of runners, heh? Well, the governor ain’t goner sack me on account of you two. He walked over to Chickey and took the rope hanging around her neck as he un-padlocked the chain around her waist and gate. “Any trouble and you will never see Columbia or the Governor.”  Chickey was weak and fell to the ground, only to be dragged to the back of the cart by her hair and rope around her throat. “You can ride inside or run behind. Your choice?”

Chickey, using all of her remaining strength, clambered up the back of the wagon, and the driver picked up her feet and tipped her into the back. She half fell on the hard boards and half on Cassie. “Sorry,” she muttered.

“No talking or you will both be running behind. Now then let’s get you comfortable.”

Chickey shuddered as he climbed in the back and stood over them. She had been chained to the gate all night, bound with her hands behind her back and her ankles sore with the pressure of the rope binding her legs. Comfortable would be nice, but what did he have in mind?

His first attentions went to Cassie. He stepped over Chickey and pushed Cassie face down on the floor of the cart. He tied her hands behind her back and, like Chickey, bound her ankles so the girls were in a similar position. “Run, my pretties will you?  Well, try this!”  He sneered as he turned Cassie on to her back. Her arms scraped on the wooden cart floor grazing her elbows in the process.

He then picked up Chickey and laid her face down on top of Cassie with her head at Cassie’s knees, the weight of the girl causing Cassie’s arms to dig deeper into the wooden floor. He then pried Cassie’s knees apart, causing her to wince at the pain at her ankles, and wedged Chickey’s head through the gap between Cassie’s legs. He then lashed Cassie’s knees together, trapping Chickey’s neck in the vice, which caused her to gasp for breath.

Cassie knew exactly what to expect as he moved towards her head. He bent over and pulled her by the hair up through Chickey’s legs, binding the knees in the same way. When he had finished, both girls struggled to breathe, bound top to tail with their heads between each other’s legs. The ropes around their ankles and wrists burnt like hell. “Next stop, The Mill,” he proclaimed, as he jumped out of the back of the cart and climbed back into his seat. “Get up there!” he shouted to the horses, and off they trotted to their new fate.

The road was full of pot holes, and every jolt and bounce jarred through the bound pair, Cassie getting the worst of it being at the bottom; but then, with a huge crater, the two rolled over on to their sides taking the pressure off her arms and reliving the agony just slightly.

An hour seemed to pass before they stopped with a jerk outside a huge building. “OK lads, pass it up and I will balance the load. The girls could not see much from the floor of the cart but there seemed a great deal of movement outside.

The first sack of grain took them by surprise as it landed square on top of them, knocking the wind out of their lungs. They both tried to shout out, but this was muffled by the next sack. Eight more piled on top of them, crushing them into the base of the wagon. Every joint flared like fire. The dust from the grain filled their lungs as it came through the sackcloth. The cart lurched forward and the vibrations of the road now became worse as the sacks pinned them down.

How long could they last, crushed like this? Cassie wished the hangman’s noose had taken her. This was not the pardon she had dreamed of. Who the hell was this governor? Those stupid boys had been cruel and hurtful, but they would never go this far. They would never have killed us.

Just as she started to fade, Cassie noticed the hard rocking of the cart had stopped and, although they were still moving, the potholes of the road had gone. She kicked out her legs to signal Chickey in a vain hope to tell her they may soon be freed from the weight of the sacks. She dare not talk, as the driver had vowed to drag them behind, and, given their treatment, she would not risk it. The smooth movement could only mean one thing:  They had entered a driveway of a house or plantation. Cassie knew that, when she had pulled the carts around for Sean and Horace, the last part of the journey was always the smoothest. Hold on, she told herself, just hold on.

The cart stopped, and after what seemed an age, Cassie felt the first sack come off. Then the next, until she stared up blinking at the light.

“Well what have we here George?” Asked one of the men stood on the back of the wagon.

“A couple of runaways” shouted the driver, whilst quenching his thirst from a barrel. The men unloading the grain picked up the two girls and threw then down on top of the sacks piled on the floor.

“Did a good job of trussing them up, George,” laughed one of the crowd that stood around them. “They ain’t goner run far like that.”

“No slave will get me the sack. No way, no how!” he grinned, with water running down his chin.

“Why, George, one of these has even got a noose around her neck. Taking it a bit far aren’t you?” quizzed one of the men as he turned them over.

“She was for hanging until they stopped for some reason. That’s just how I picked her up,” he bragged. The crowd went very quiet and started to back away.

“Shit, George you have done it this time. These must be the Governor’s new ponies.  For God’s sake, get them cleaned up and those welts treated. You were sent to get the new runners, not runaways!” exclaimed a man who drifted into the stables.

The driver visibly paled, as he stood alone in the yard over the girls. He bent over them, cutting the ropes as carefully as he could, but, as he did so, he could see the red and black burns where they had cut into the skin. “Oh shit,” he muttered. Both girls were still alive, but only just. They could not stand, so he dragged them over to the water butt and splashed water over them. They really looked a sight, as the water mixed with the dust on their faces and made white streaks on their black skin. The more he soaked them, the worst they looked. He was so busy in his work he had not noticed the figure watching him from the edge of the yard.

“George!” boomed the voice he recognized only too well. A wet patch developed in his crotch as he renewed his frantic efforts to restore the girls to a respectable sight. “Leave them alone you fool.” The tall, distinguished man stepped forward and, George cowered low, covering his head with one arm.

“Go up to the kitchen and see Mary. Ask her for two smocks to be sent down with one of the maids. Then, please, will you leave my land?” The Governor stared into George’s eyes as he added to the man lurking behind him. “If you see George after half an hour, kill him. Understand?”

“Yes, Colonel. Understood,” confirmed the man who stood in the shadows. “I will inform the guardhouse.”

George scurried off, leaving a damp trail behind him.

The Governor nodded, as he turned his attention to the girls huddled on the floor, dripping a mixture of water, dust and sweat.

”I think you will find we run a tighter ship here than you have been used too. Much tighter. Rest there for a moment. One of the maids will bring you some fresh clothes and take you up to the house. It has been an honour to meet you at last.  As you may know, I am Governor Beecham, and you may call me the Colonel if you so wish. Accept my deepest apologies for the manner in which you were treated.  For now, I wish you goodnight and a pleasant stay at Columbia.”  With this, the Governor turned, together with the man instructed to shoot George on sight, and strode through the stable yard and out of view.

“Are you all right, Chickey?” asked a shaky Cassie.

“Yes.  I think so, apart from the grazes. I think I’ll live – it’s just a question of whether we want to,” replied Chickey, nervously.

“Well I am no judge of character, but the governor seemed to have kind eyes. Maybe, just maybe, we are going to be all right here. He has brought us here for a reason, but I am not sure what. More racing, perhaps?”

“We will have to see what tomorrow brings,” reassured Cassie but she was not so sure. No man had ever shown her kindness. The only respite from the pain and suffering had been in the solitude of a cold stable and her friendship with Chickey. She did not trust the governor, but he had saved her from a hanging, and he had punished his driver so she would, for now, give him a chance to show if true Southern gentlemen were fact or, as she believed fiction.

The maid ran through the empty stable yard to the girls and passed them the clean smocks. She helped them out of their dusty rags and washed them down from the water butt, gently wiping the grazes and drying them with towels she had brought down with her. “You are going to be all right here, ladies - the colonel is a good man. He has his little ways, but he is kind and thoughtful. He has given you adjoining rooms so you can be together if you want,” said the girl.

“What is your name and which stable is ours?” asked Cassie.

“Goodness,” laughed the girl “Goodness is my name, and if you mention to the Colonel I made you think you were to stay down here in the stables I will go the same way as George. The Colonel has two rooms up at the house. They are beautiful, with lovely views over the plantation. The have been prepared just for you two ladies. We are honoured to have you stay with us.”

As the three took the long walk up to the house, its white columns just visible through the trees, they held hands in a line. All three spun around to look at the gatehouse down the valley as a shot rang out, sending the roosting birds up into the evening sky.

*  *  *  *

The house was huge:  The grand entrance of columns stood over the gravel circle in front of the house. In the centre of the circle where carriages could turn around was a huge marble fountain. The mist added to the chill evening air as the trio walked past.

“We are not allowed in the front entrance, but the Colonel likes the first visit to the house to be walked around the front and then in through the side,” Goodness explained. She went on, “If you look up now, those are your rooms leading on to the balcony.”

Cassie and Chickey looked at each other in astonishment as they rounded the corner and were led through a side door. “This is the entrance you will use unless you are accompanied by the Colonel. Is that clear?” The girls nodded as they were led up the stairs and towards two huge oak doors. Goodness opened the first one they come to and led the girls in.

“This will be your room, Cassie, and next door is yours Chickey.  The door over there is the adjoining entrance.

The girls stood open-mouthed at the sight, the like of which they had never seen. The room was enormous. The walls were painted a cool white and the ceiling carried a huge chandelier, which sparkled with light. Windows ran along one wall, out of which they could see across fields and trees to the horizon. The only furniture was the four-poster bed, a wardrobe and a chair and dressing table.

Chickey rushed over to the wardrobe and flung open the doors. The wardrobe was empty but for a plain cotton smock. Goodness explained that until all their wounds had healed, that would be the only items the Colonel would allow.

“But that may take weeks,” complained Chickey. “The Governor’s Ball is in three months; you will have plenty of time to rest and heal before then. The door over there leads to a bathroom,” explained Goodness, changing the subject. “I suggest you take one now and retire to bed. Breakfast will be brought up at eight.” With this, Goodness left the room, leaving the two girls alone.

As soon as the door shut, they let out a shriek and ran over to the bed and dove into the soft covers. They held each other tight, not wanting to let go.     

CHAPTER ELEVEN