The Charleston Chase (Phantom Knights Book 2) (6 page)

She also told me why she did not live with her
brother. He wanted her to learn refinement without having to send
her to a seminary, so it was believed amongst society that Rose was
their cousin and Char’s chaperone.

The plantation was an hour’s drive outside the
bustle of the city. When the carriage turned down a long tree lined
drive, I leaned forward on my seat to gain a better view out the
window. The lane ran for a long time, but through the trees, I
could see men out in the field.

“Are they his slaves?” I asked. A stone the size of
my fist was settling in my stomach. I loathed slavery. My mother
called me an advocate of freedom for all men, and I suppose it was
apt. I certainly fought against injustice when I saw it. If Samuel
Mason owned slaves, then that was another mark against him. His
haughtiness, his roguish behavior, his high-handed dealings with
anyone he thought beneath him were enough to garner my ill opinion
of him, but owning slaves would have set off an entirely new
dislike of the man.

“Sam owns no slaves,” Betsy said softly. I turned to
look across the carriage where she was seated. She held my gaze,
her brown eyes hard with a look that assured me she was not a timid
girl, but a protector of those she thought unjustly treated. “When
he bought the plantation from Mr. Crawford, he began manumission,
which is nigh impossible to achieve. For four years, he worked to
have all of his slaves freed.”

Rose picked up the thread where Betsy left off.
“Before 1800, to achieve manumission only the master’s consent and
a certificate of freedom were required, but with more masters
freeing men who caused them trouble, or men of infirmity,
legislature changed the laws.”

Betsy stared out the window but spoke. “Sam had to
swear to our characters before a magistrate and five freeholders.
He worked on having the families freed first, then the men.” Betsy
clenched her hands into fists, breathing in a long breath.
“Everyone you see chose to stay.”

“Stay?” I asked.

Rose was the one to speak up. “We live in a land
where slavery is a livelihood. Many of the landowners are angry at
Sam. They said he would be the cause of revolt, creating jealousy
and discontent amongst the slaves.”

Charlotte leaned forward, her eyes wide with what
looked like fear. “Our barn has been burned, five of the freedmen
have disappeared, two of the women have been attacked, one was...”
she stopped, shaking her head.

The stone in my stomach moved to my heart. She did
not need to go on. The look on all three women’s faces told me what
had happened to that woman. Tears burned my eyes, but I blinked
them away.

“Sam found work for many of the freedmen in Northern
states where it will be safer for them than here,” Rose said.

“It was recommended that we all leave the state, but
there are those of us who are loyal to the Crawford and Mason
family and would not leave,” Betsy said firmly.

My chest constricted feeling like someone had tied a
corset around it. I could not breathe. I felt a complete wretch for
my ill thoughts about the man. I wanted to cry, for Betsy and
Abraham, who had surely seen and lived through unspeakable
happenings, for Sam and his overwhelming generosity, but mostly for
myself and the callous woman I had become. But, I was not a
tear-filled watering pot.

The house came into view, and I expelled a long
breath. It was...heavenly. A large, brick house sat on a sprawling
lawn with a circular drive before it. I caught a glimpse of a
garden around the back of the house. To the north of the house
where the trees met the lawn were several small square cabins.
Children ran between the cabins while women worked at different
chores, washing laundry, churning butter, beating rugs. It was all
truly picturesque. My family’s plantation house in Savannah was a
quarter this size with less than half the amount of workers.

Sam stood on the large porch between two columns,
laughing at something Levi said. Seeing him laugh awoke flutters
inside me that I quickly squashed. I hated those flutters. They
reminded me of Andrew and what I no longer had. Because of the Holy
Order.

As Sam stepped down the
wide,
white stairs, I tried not to stare
at him, but it was impossible to look elsewhere. He demanded
attention no matter what he did. His thick curls blew in the breeze
as he came toward the carriage.

Char was the first to hop down, dressed in brown
breeches that were too large for her. We had rolled up the hem
several times and secured them with a belt. The large white shirt
she wore flapped as she greeted her brother then ran to Levi’s
side. Betsy climbed down after Char and Rose started to follow, but
I halted her.

“Is Mr. Mason in danger?”

Rose sat back down, her look pained. “No, for as
crude as it is money speaks.”

That was certainly true, for it happened to my
family when we acquired a fortune last year. People flocked to us,
courted us for our money. What worried me the most was Betsy and
Abe being captured. If they were every captured while harming a
white man there would be no trial. But, only Sam could allay my
fears.

Climbing down from the carriage, Sam approached me,
his eyes ran over my work clothing and he smiled.

“Seeing you like this brings back the memory of our
first meeting, Miss Martin,” Sam said.

“A memory you would do well to forget, Mr. Mason,” I
retorted.

With the sun on his face, I noticed how tan he was,
like me, not the soft ivory that Andrew had been, and it suited Sam
somehow, made him appear more like my idea of a plantation owner.
“This is a rather conspicuous spot to train the team, do not you
think? Will not your workers be alarmed and suspicious of your
sister and her friends dressed as men?”

“Everyone believes that I am
training my sister and her friends for the games that my family
hosts during the annual boat race, and my sister’s antics are well
known in Charleston.”

Before I could speak to Sam about
Abe and Betsy, Levi was pulling me away, saying, “Sam has
everything set how you will like. Come, I will show you.” Levi led
the way around the house with Charlotte bouncing at his side as she
laughed and talked with him. It was a good change to see Levi not
as serious as he had been in Philadelphia.

Beyond a large barn and a row of trees, there was a
table with bows, arrows, knives, a pair of swords, and a few
pistols. Four targets were set up further away with a large dot
painted on the centers of the canvas. It was out of view of the
house and the workers, giving us some privacy.

“What shall we do first?” Charlotte asked, bouncing
on the balls of her feet.

“Safety. Always safety.” I picked up a knife, and
once they were all gathered, I showed them first how to hold a
knife. I explained the different blades, and then told them each to
pick up a knife. “Watch my stance.” My legs were apart and firmly
planted. I breathed in and out slowly as my eyes took in the target
ahead. I focused on the center, and gripping the handle, I raised
the knife. Breathe in. Breathe out. With a strong flick of my
wrist, I sent the knife flying straight into the center.

After explaining the wrist action, I stepped away as
they each took a turn throwing a knife. Betsy’s hit the target but
bounced off; Charlotte’s did not even come close, but Rose’s sailed
straight to the center. I watched her for a long moment but said
nothing.

At the end of half an hour, Charlotte’s brow was
beaded with sweat, and even I was feeling hot and out of sorts.
Rose moved over to help Charlotte, who had stamped her foot in
frustration at least a dozen times and missed the target at least
two dozen times.

I had Rose and Betsy move on to archery with Levi,
but I kept Charlotte working on perfecting her skill with a knife
until she was near to shouting at me in vexation. She bit down on
her lip every time I knew she wanted to yell, and I was impressed
with that, though her tantrums and foot stampings caused me grave
doubts about her ability to do the job set before her.

After two hours of practicing and explaining, she
was able to throw a knife directly at the center of the target and
hit it every time. I allowed her to move on to archery, which she
was good at, having done it for sport.

We moved on to defense against an attacker holding a
knife. “I am going to explain this in a few steps for you to
understand. Levi will act as the attacker.”

Levi’s brows lifted as he took a step back. “I value
my life, let Sam play the attacker.”

Sam laughed, but stepped forward, picking up a knife
with a six inch blade. He held it up; his legs slightly spread
apart and his body ready to attack.

“You should know that the
probability that you will get cut is very high, but the object is
not to get stabbed. Step one: find something to put between you and
that knife. Being a woman, you will most likely be carrying
something that you can use such as a reticule, a shawl, or
even a fan. When they try to stab you, you use
what you have on hand to catch their arm with. Watch.” Sam stepped
toward me, and I used my glove, throwing it in his face as I
sidestepped him and grabbed his arm holding the knife with both of
my hands; One hand
around his forearm and
the other around his wrist. “You should only need a second—enough
time for a diversion, whether that be throwing something at your
opponent’s face, or using your reticule or shawl to throw over your
attacker’s hand.” I showed them what I meant by throwing Levi’s
waistcoat over Sam’s hand holding the knife. “You want to get to
the side of your attacker so you can grab his hand. Take the hand
closest to your opponent and use that hand to grab their thumb and
lift it up. You can dig your nails into their skin if need be, but
pry their thumb up. Do not release your hold on their thumb. With
your other hand take the top of the knife handle and force it
down.” I showed them what I meant, taking the knife from Sam’s
strong grip. “Then you take the knife and stab, preferably the
stomach since you are closest to it.” I aimed the knife closer to
Sam’s stomach, and he jerked back. I had met his eyes with a wide
smile before I released his arm. “Mr. Mason, Abe, and Levi will
play the attacker so you can practice removing the
knife.”

I moved from group to group watching their progress
and giving explanation when needed. They spent an hour practicing,
until Char and Betsy had each received a few grazes from the
knives, but they all could remove a knife from their attacker in a
somewhat quick manner.

“Is it ever all right to run away?” Charlotte
asked.

“Yes, when you know you can make it. If your
attacker is trying to rob you, throw whatever it is they want as
far from you as you can. No matter the situation, if they have a
gun and you know you cannot defeat them, never run in a straight
pattern. Your chances of escaping unscathed are a bit higher.”

We moved on to the gun table, but Sam came up beside
me, saying, “Abe will explain gun safety. He is the best marksman I
know.”

Levi and I glanced at each other, and Levi’s eyes
were alight with amusement, but we said nothing. As the women
picked up pistols, I stood back listening to Abe teach them first
how to load a pistol.

When they were ready to shoot, Charlotte spoke. “I
am unsure if I am doing this right. Levi, will you help me?”

Her tone was that of a flirt, but as Levi walked
over to her I doubted that Levi had caught the meaning behind the
words. He spent his days either following people or working in his
apothecary shop in Philadelphia that my father had given him. Levi
was an innocent when it came to dalliance. He laid his hand over
hers and raised the pistol, explaining how to aim, how to fire.

Sam appeared next to me. “Do you need help with your
pistol, Bess? I will happily oblige you.”

“I am sure you would,
Mr
.
Mason, but no thank you. I prefer my prey before me, not
beside me.”

His head fell back as he laughed. I stared at the
expanse of his clean shaven neck, the tiny white lines where the
sun had not burned him. Turning my attention back toward the
targets, I willed my breathing to even out and stop lurching every
time the man came near.

When he calmed, he asked for a few words in private.
Forcing my mind to focus on training and not on Samuel’s windblown
hair or the smile on his lips, we walked toward the barn. He pushed
open the door for me to enter. There were some horse stalls, stacks
of hay, and farm equipment in the barn, but my attention was
directed toward the man standing before me.

“Mr. Mason, I am worried about Abe and Betsy,” I
said, rushing through the words. “If they should ever be
captured...” I could not finish what I wanted to say, but there was
no need. Understanding was visible in Sam’s eyes.

“I have given that much consideration as well, but
it was Abe who hit upon the solution. Betsy will act as lookout on
any mission, never involving herself in the fighting.”

That relieved my mind of a great weight. Betsy could
still be trained, but as a precaution only.

“Abe has shown himself to have a great understanding
of disguise. Do not fear for him, Bess.”

That did not allay all of my fears, but the rest
could not be recounted when Samuel’s intense eyes began searching
my face, then settled on my mouth.

Breathe. He is only a man.

His eyes moved back to mine as he said, “I wanted to
ask your opinion of their skill. I noticed that you kept Char on
the knives for an inordinate amount of time.”

“I kept her there until she could throw a knife to
my satisfaction,” I retorted. “Rose is excellent with the knife,
Char is better with a bow. Betsy is good with both but prefers
neither. I feel that, with more practice, they will excel. Now, if
there is nothing else, I will go back to training.” I started
toward the door.