River

Mason

Things have been going surprisingly well for me. Since I left Natchez a couple of months ago, working on the flatboat to New Orleans, I have resolved that working as a boatman is not for me. I’ve tried it twice now, and I don’t care for the labor, or the subjugation to the will of the captain. So, as soon as it docked I made my way back up north, figuring that I would see what opportunities the Natchez Trace offers. When I was walking along the road before, between Natchez and Nashville, it was surprising how easy it was to rustle up wallets and valuables from timid travelers.

Except for that one time, of course. The time that the goddamned foreigner intervened. Someday I will pay Gregor back for that insult. Although I certainly had my way with his whore until he got back to Natchez. I had to leave town because I heard he was on his way back, and I didn’t want to risk a confrontation, but I think I’ll be heading back there soon. I have had a lot of success on the Trace in the last few weeks, easy pickings even with only the small gang that I have managed to gather. But I think I’d like to add a couple of other fellows to our group, like Stu, maybe one or two others. Men that I think I can convince that working on boats and docks is nowhere near as satisfying as banditry along the Trace.

I’m waiting off the road, a few hours north of Natchez, waiting for any likely prospects. I evaluate people as they pass my hidden perch. I’m waiting for any dandies, folks that seem like easy targets. A couple of the other fellows in my gang are waiting further north as well. It’s very hot out, but I have shade. I’m getting hungry. Maybe along with any wallets I get off the next dandies, I’ll make them give me any food they have along as well.

If we can add a couple more men to our group, we’d be able to plan bigger hauls, more intricate schemes. Maybe set up a base of operations a mile or two off the Trace. Yes, I think I’ll head back into Natchez soon. Who knows? Maybe while I’m there I’ll stop into Madam Beverly’s brothel again, have another go-round with that whore.

Thomas

I regretfully say goodbye to the Ellis family, most particularly Nancy, as I take my leave. Stephen and Gregor and Rosy aren’t leaving quite yet, but I have further to go than them. They are just heading back up north to Natchez from Ellis Cliffs, but I still have to go all the way south to my new land in West Feliciana Parish, in the Louisiana territory. I’ll have to find a place to stop overnight. I hope that bandit band that has been giving the militia so much trouble along the Natchez Trace stays up north of here. I certainly wouldn’t want to run into Mason and his gang alone.

My friends and I had such a nice visit at Ellis Cliffs, chatting about the preparations for Stephen and Margaret’s wedding next month. I’m glad we’ve settled on how to help out, coming back down from Natchez the day after the wedding to fetch the rest of Margaret’s belongings while they are on their honeymoon.

Between now and then, if my timing works out, I will be able to spend a week or two at Feliciana to settle things there with the new office I am opening. Then I’ll return to Natchez where I’ll have a couple of weeks before their wedding to try to wrap up my law practice there, and get ready to transfer whatever is left down to Feliciana. After their wedding I’ll spend a few weeks at their new Homochitto plantation, supervising things while they are vacationing. Lord, I have so much to do. But I’m pleased to be of use to Stephen. He’s been my best friend my whole life.

And of course I am always thinking of Nancy, of ways to have myself well-established by the time she is old enough to become my wife. She’ll be fifteen years old later this year, and I am relying on her accepting me, and having a wedding of our own in a couple of years. I want everything in Feliciana well in hand before I am ready to propose to her. I love the idea of my best friend and I being married to sisters, although I haven’t discussed this with anybody else in detail yet. There is still time.

I remember Nancy laughing as she watched Rosy staring at the maid’s baby running up and calling Gregor “Woosh” like she always does. I have no idea why that child gets so excited every time she sees Gregor, but it is funny to watch. I’m sure they’ll both be happy after she and her mother get moved to Homochitto along with Margaret after the wedding. I imagine Gregor will be visiting Stephen often at his new plantation, since it is much closer to Natchez than Ellis Cliffs is.

I wonder how things will be for Nancy after her older sister moves away, taking her maid and other servants with her. I’ll have to find more excuses to visit her. It will be harder without Stephen going to Ellis Cliffs to visit Margaret all the time. I suppose in the future I’ll just have to stop by every time to and from Feliciana.

I’m dawdling, spending too much time dreaming about my plans and friends and everything we did today on our visit. I spur my horse to a faster trot. I want to get at least halfway to Feliciana before I stop for the night.

Nancy

“I can’t believe you’re getting married in a month,” I tell Margaret, as we go back inside after waving off her fiancé and his friends.

Dalila had to pick up Ayola to stop her from chasing after Mr. Slavson’s carriage. The baby is saying “Woosh” in a sad little voice. My brother Richard, who is the only other person close to being a child in this house, reaches over to take her from her mother. Dalila lets her go, having long since gotten over being worried about any of us holding her baby.

Richard tickles Ayola, making her giggle, and then says, “Here, Ayola, I’ll woosh you.” He swings her around in the air saying “Woosh! Woosh!” The entry hall is filled with her babyish laughter as we head back into the parlor to wait for dinner to be announced.

Papa has gone into his study, and Mama has gone upstairs to have a rest before dinner. Richard is chasing after Ayola in the front hall. So just Margaret and I are sitting in the parlor. She picks up the lace that she is making for her trousseau, never wanting to sit idle. I retrieve the book that I was reading this morning, but I can’t make myself focus on it. I am thinking about the whole concept of marriage.

“What do you suppose it’s like?” I ask her.

She looks up at me with her pale blue eyes. “What’s like?”

“You know, marriage.”

“I imagine it is just like what we see here, with Mama and Papa taking care of things, tending to their own tasks.” She bends back over her lace.

“Not that part. You know, the private part. The wedding night stuff.”

She looks back up at me with a stern expression, like she’s trying to look just like Mama. “You are just a child, Nancy, you needn’t concern yourself with such things.”

I huff out a breath. “I’m not a child. I’m almost fifteen.”

Her eyes soften, and she lays the lace down in her lap. “Nancy, are you…” she hesitates, then goes on. “Are you thinking of… anyone in particular?”

I want to roll my eyes at her, but Mama has told me that it is unladylike so I don’t do it. I wouldn’t want to demonstrate Margaret’s point about being a child. “Sister, I know that you know exactly who I am thinking about.”

She sighs. “It’s Thomas Butler, isn’t it? Do you fancy him?”

I nod. It’s more than just that, though. It isn’t just a childish fancy. I feel it, deeply, that we will be together. I am sure he feels it too. I tell her, “Yes, but don’t tell me I’m just being a silly child. I know he feels the same way that I do.”

I’m ready for her to argue with me, discount my feelings, but to my shock she nods, and says in a quiet voice, “Yes, I know.”

“What? Did he tell you something?”

“No, of course not, but I can tell. I believe it might actually work out, someday, but you know he is much older than you.” She looks at me seriously. “You have to understand, Nancy, you cannot pursue this until you are older. I believe that Mr. Butler understands that as well. I don’t think he would approach you, or Papa, for at least another year or two. You have to be patient, and if it is meant to work out, it will.”

I’m too surprised to say anything except, “Thank you.” I didn’t expect her to understand at all, but obviously she does.

A few minutes go by, while she works on the lace, and I stare at my book. After a while, I say, “Well, what about the wedding night?”

She laughs and blunders the bit of lace she was threading. “I don’t know any more about that than you do, Nancy. Only what Mama has told me, and I’m quite sure she was not being completely open with me. You’ll have to ask her for more details after you are older, and engaged.”