Godsend hell yeah herita.., p.1
Godsend (Hell Yeah! Heritage), page 1
GODSEND
Hell Yeah! Heritage
By
SABLE HUNTER
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
GODSEND
Hell Yeah! Heritage
All rights reserved.
Copyright 2016 © Sable Hunter
Cover by JRA Stevens
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author / publisher.
Godsend is the first novel in the Hell Yeah! Heritage series. If you ever wondered where those
McCoy men came from…these historical novels will take you to their beginnings. Deeply sensual stories of romance and adventure, they will capture your imagination and your heart.
History is definitely worth repeating.
Thrust from his home, Austin McCoy travels west to build a new life for himself in the wilds of Texas. Civilization has not yet arrived to the wilderness where he settles and his nearest neighbor is more than two days’ journey through Indian territory alive with bear, cougar and wolves. While difficult, carving out an existence amidst these dangers is not what weighs heavily on his heart. With nothing and no one to share his days, Austin is lost. The answer to his prayers comes from a very unexpected source…
Jolie Dumas has also been torn from the only home she has ever known. The beloved daughter of a plantation owner and his quadroon mistress, she is horrified to be sold into slavery after the death of her parents. Bought and paid for, she is chained and walked from New Orleans to Texas. Before she can be delivered to her new master, the slave trader is killed and Jolie escapes. Alone and vulnerable, she seeks a safe place to hide, not knowing the sanctuary she finds may end up being the one place she truly belongs.
When Austin opens his heart and home to the beautiful woman, he has no idea of her past or the future she faces. Knowing what awaits her if anyone finds out the truth, Jolie hides her identity from him. Having been betrayed before by those she trusted, she has no idea that in Austin’s eyes she could not be more perfect.
She is his Godsend.
Contents
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
THE END
About the Author:
SABLE’S BOOKS
Other Titles from Sable Hunter:
CHAPTER ONE
PROLOGUE
The attic of Tebow Ranch, Kerrville, TX
Present day
“One of these days, we need to get up here and give this place a thorough cleaning.” Libby McCoy rose to her feet from a kneeling position and dusted her hands off on the sides of her blue jeans. “I thought sure I’d seen a trunk up here full of old clothes.”
Cady slowly surveyed the large rectangular room with its beaded wood ceiling and faded green wallpaper. The lighting wasn’t the best in the world, a single north facing window gave the only natural illumination while a single bare bulb hung down in the center of the expanse. “I agree about the cleaning. If we organized this clutter, there’s no telling what treasures we’d find.” As her gaze moved slowly from point to point, she was aware of the swirling ghosts of the past hovering over their personal treasures. Scenes and recollections of days gone by filtered through Cady’s mind. She took a deep breath, allowing the images to come, yet doing her best to focus on the matter at hand. “Let’s look nearer the window.”
“Okay,” Libby agreed. “I have my heart set on something with a long skirt, puffy sleeves and a lot of lace. Preferably pink to match my new boots and hat.”
Cady laughed, picturing her pretty companion all dolled up in period clothing. “I was kinda expecting you to go with more of a saloon girl theme.”
“I’m trying to be good this year,” Libby confided in a near whisper. “This Founder’s Day Celebration is important to Aron. They’re dedicating the statue he carved of Charles Goodnight, the one he sculpted to stand in front of the Kerr County courthouse.”
“I know.” Cady grinned at her. “Joseph is working on a surprise for Aron.” At Libby’s inquisitive look, she quickly caved, anxious to share the news. “Willie and Waylon are going to sing and Governor Chancellor is making the presentation.”
“Oh, great! Aron will love that, he pretends to be a grouch, but he’s really a teddy bear.”
Cady hid a smirk at Libby’s description of the elder McCoy brother as she made her way across the attic. So as not to alarm Libby, who didn’t like to think about the supernatural in any capacity, she didn’t describe what she was seeing. Smoky images of people long dead almost mesmerized her. Joseph’s mother, Sue McCoy, stood by a dresser with her hand resting on the woodgrain surface, staring at a photograph of her children. Another lady sat in an antique rocking chair, holding a baby in her arms. Even as Cady and Libby walked toward him, an older bearded man with a rifle in his hand stared out the window. He didn’t react to their approach, just continued to gaze out at a world that no longer existed.
Cady felt no fear. These apparitions weren’t ghosts. They weren’t really even there. The wraiths haunting the Tebow attic manifested themselves only to Cady who sensed the memories attached to their prized possessions.
“Here it is! Okay, let’s see what we have.” Libby knelt down next to a large wooden trunk, taking the clasp and beginning to lift the heavy lid.
“Let me help.” Cady went to her knees to help push, before it slammed down on her sister-in-law’s fingers. As soon as the carefully packed contents were exposed to the light, both women stared in wonder.
“Look, Cady!” Libby pulled out a lace shawl and a beaded purse. “Isn’t this beautiful?”
“Yes, it is.” Cady touched the items reverently, aware of the shimmering vision of an auburn haired woman standing over them, humming a soft melody. She helped Libby take things out, one by one, marveling at the tiny buttons, the minuscule stitching, the sheer miracle being that they survived long after their owner had passed from this life. “I like this.” Standing, she held up a cream colored dress covered in embroidery and seed pearls.
“Is that a wedding gown?”
“No, I don’t think so.” She shook it out. “I think it’s just a party…” She stopped speaking when a small framed oil painting dropped to the wooden floor with a sharp thud. “What?” Cady bent to pick up the picture and when she did a surge of electric heat traveled up her arm. A surreal cloud of ‘knowing’ permeated Cady’s brain. With curious eyes she brought the painting up to meet her gaze. The image was faded, but she could make out two people. A man with light-colored hair sat on a huge log wearing a heavy fringed jacket. Standing behind him with her arms around his neck and her head bent to his was a woman with dark hair, long and wavy. While their features were blurred, the depth of their love was obvious to see.
“Look at this.” With a shaking hand, Cady held out the photograph for Libby to examine.
“Oh my, how beautiful. Who is that?”
Cady turned the portrait over and found writing on the back. Stepping close to the window, being careful to avoid the gentleman who still stood at his post, she held her hand close to the glass. “Austin and Jolie McCoy. Nacogdoches, 1827.”
“Nacogdoches, that’s East Texas, isn’t it?” Libby bent close to get a better look.
“Yes, the oldest town in Texas, I’ve always heard.”
“I don’t think I remember anyone ever mentioning these two.” Libby smiled, putting the tip of a finger on the two figures, their moment of devotion captured forever on the portrait. “Wouldn’t you love to know what they were thinking? What their life was like? I’ll have to ask Aron if he knows anything about Austin and Jolie. I love that name – Jolie.” She let the simple, yet elegant name roll from her tongue.
“Jolie,” Cady whispered, bowing her head, overwhelmed at what she was seeing, feeling…two small children were running and playing, their laughter coming to her ears over a vast chasm of time and space… “Jolie, wait for me!”
CHAPTER TWO
PROLOGUE
Deep in the Louisiana swamp, off the River Road.
1816
“Jolie, wait for me!” Abraham ran behind his cousin, their childlike laughter ringing through the swamp.
“Run, Abraham, the pirates are coming!” She jumped from one side of the small stream to the other, her feet slipping on the slick fairy moss. “We have to find the treasure before they do!”
“Let me get my sword.” Abraham stopped to jerk a branch from a small peach tree, brandishing the switch like a sabre. “I’ll defend you, Jolie! Never fear!”
They dashed through the palmetto swamp, pushing long strands of gray Spanish moss out of the way, giggling as they played.
“Children! Supper!”
Grandmere’s shout brought Jolie sliding to a stop. “Fried chicken, Abraham. Let’s go.” She made a grab for her smaller companion’s hand. “Are you hungry?”
“Starving, my tummy thinks my throat’s been cut.” He made a slicing motion across his neck. “Do you think your mama cooked something sweet?”
“Pineapple cake,” she whispered with relish, “topped with coconut.”
“Oh, that sounds so good.” Abraham rubbed his stomach. “You have such good food at your house.”
“Papa takes care of us. He brings wonderful things for me and Mama to enjoy.” Jolie gave Abraham a big smile. “He loves us very much.”
“You’re so lucky.” Abraham swung their arms back and forth. As they walked, the darkness seemed to come on quickly. The sun sank behind the trees and the swamp filled with ominous shadows. “Let’s hurry.”
“We’re okay, nothing can hurt us here,” Jolie assured him. “Look at the lightning bugs.” Ahead of them, tiny dots of light danced in the dusk. “Grandmere says they’re friendly spirits.”
Abraham’s eyes widened so much that Jolie giggled. “I don’t like to think about spirits,” he said in a shaky voice. “Haints scare me.”
“Don’t worry, I’m here. I’m not afraid of them.” Jolie squeezed his hand.
“What are you two yammering about?” Jean Marie Dumas placed her hands on her ample hips. “When I tell you to hurry, I’m not doing it just to hear my tongue wag.”
Her grandmother’s teasing chastisement made Jolie giggle. “Sorry, Grandmere. We were playing pirates. Jean Lafitte buried gold near here, Papa said so.”
“Your papa don’t know everything,” Jean Marie huffed. As the children passed by, she picked up her long, swirling skirt and followed them toward the bungalow. “Jolie, we’re doing our lessons tonight, so don’t you think about trying to get out of it.”
“I won’t, I’m looking forward to my lessons.”
“Abraham, you should stay. Your dear mama, God rest her soul, she would’ve wanted me to teach you too. That no count Daddy of yours…”
Not wanting Grandmere to start one of her tirades about Abraham’s father and stepmother, she made her own announcement, lightly squeezing his hand. “I plan on teaching Abraham how to read.”
“Read? Me?” Abraham’s voice rose. “I don’t got no books. I don’t need to learn how to read. I love to draw!”
“You draw beautifully, but you do need to learn to read.” Jean Marie countered her grandson’s protest.
“You can borrow books from me, Abraham,” Jolie offered. “Over at Oak Hill, Papa has a whole big room full of books.”
They walked far enough to emerge into the clearing. Ahead of them sat the colorful bungalow John Belmont had built for his beautiful Louisa and their only child, Juliette Jolie. In the light of day, the pastel walls vied with the panorama of flowers flourishing in the manicured beds. Abraham’s stepmother, Eula, helped Louisa keep house and maintain the gardens. Jean Marie’s older daughter, Estelle, had died when Abraham was born. Jean Marie didn’t approve of Abraham’s father, she blamed him for not calling for her when the babe was born. Estelle would’ve lived had I been there to help her was the grieving old woman’s mantra. So, days like this were the only time his grandmere spent with the boy.
“Why don’t your papa live with you?” Abraham asked in all innocence.
Jolie looked at her small cousin, his ebony skin making him almost invisible in the near dark. She sought for an explanation that her eight-year-old mind could put into words.
“Because he’s white and they’re not.” Jean Marie stated flatly.
Jolie didn’t say anything, but Abraham couldn’t let it go. As he climbed the steps up to the wide veranda, he voiced his confusion. “Jolie looks white to me, Grandmere.”
“Well, she’s not. She’s a quadroon. Look at me, Abraham. I’m your grandmother, what color am I?” Jean Marie faced the children, who were protected from the bitterness of slavery only by distance and good fortune.
Abraham stared at the old lady. “I’m not sure.” Once they stepped through the doors and into the cozy room lit by candles and kerosene lamps, he looked at her again. Jean Marie’s skin wasn’t black, but it wasn’t white either. “You in between?”
Jean Marie shook her head. “There is no in between. One drop of blood tells the tale. Color is not always defined by one’s appearance.”
“Shush, Mama, what are you telling the children?” Louisa swept into the room. “Dinner is served. Go wash up and let us break bread together. Abraham, your stepmother said for you to come home right after we eat.”
“Yes, Auntie.”
Jolie and Abraham scampered off and Louisa met her mother’s eyes. “I don’t want Jolie worrying about who she is or what she is.”
Jean Marie waved her arm. “Do you think you can protect her forever? Do you think this home Belmont built you is magical, that you can escape reality because you live behind a curtain of fantasy? Beyond the boundaries of this swamp lies the rest of the world, where people just like you are enslaved, who work the cotton fields and are beaten with whips if they dare to fall in the heat of the day. The only thing standing between you and shackles is one man.”
Louisa Dumas raised her head proudly. “Yes, one man. A man who loves me. A man who loves our child.”
“You are not his wife, Louisa. You are his placee. Yours is a left-handed marriage. Not even common law.”
Louisa bowed her head. “I cannot help who I am or who you are, but I can make my daughter feel safe and loved. She is not a slave. She is the daughter of one of the richest, most powerful men in the south. Jolie has a bright, wonderful future. Her father will take care of her.”
“When is Papa coming, Mama?” Jolie asked from the door.
Louisa smiled. “Tomorrow, he will come to visit us tomorrow.”
* * *
After supper, Abraham went home, leaving three generations of Dumas women to sit around the table and commune. Louisa did needlework by the lamp while Jean Marie sat by Jolie as she finished her lessons.
“Tell me about our home in Martinique.” Jolie urged her grandmere. “I don’t want to forget even one thing.”
Jean Marie’s face looked blissful as she began to speak. “My home is a jewel, a magnificent emerald set in a sea of azure blue. High mountains rise from lush jungles and pearly white clouds hang low forming a protective curtain let down by the gods.”
“And you worked magic on Martinique?” Jolie’s eyes locked with Jean Marie’s, pleading to learn more.
“You have no need to know anything about magic,” Louisa chided.
Jean Marie slapped the table. “Juliette Jolie deserves to know her heritage. What I can teach her could save her life and the lives of others someday. Your daughter has the gift of healing. I’ve already seen evidence of this.”
Louisa made a huffing noise. “I’m not talking about herbs and potions, Mother.”
Jolie watched the exchange between her mother and grandmother carefully. “I know many of the plants and their uses. Grandmere has already taught me these things.” She placed her hand over Jean Marie’s wrinkled one. “I want to know more.”
To Louisa’s chagrin, her mother began to pass along knowledge she harbored close to her heart, teaching Jolie that there was more to the world than what her eyes could see or her hands could touch.
…The next morning brought the sound of a horse and carriage echoing through the open window. Hearing the welcome sound, Jolie jumped to her feet, throwing the covers back. “Papa!” She didn’t bother to change clothes. With utter joy and abandonment, she ran down the hall, then down the stairs, her long-tail gown dragging the floor as she went. “Papa!” As she slid into the living room, it was to find her father embracing her mother. Jolie waited impatiently until they finished, then she threw herself against the tall, strong man, hugging him hard. “Oh, Papa. My papa. I love you so!”
“I love you my beautiful girl. How are you?” he asked as he picked her up and swung her around in a circle. “I’ve missed you so much!”
