Mistress of Five Oaks

Last night, I dreamed of a black horse. Upon waking, I looked in the dictionary of dreams I keep on my bedside table, to see if there is any significance to this particular nighttime vision. It seems a dream of a black horse is a dream of passion. Considering all that has happened in the past weeks, I am not surprised.

For the first time in months there is a man in my bed. I'd had the same dream the night before and I managed to get back to sleep. But tonight sleep wouldn't return. I eased out of bed careful not to wake Morgan. He needs his rest. I tiptoed over to the chair in front of the bedroom window facing the front lawn of Five Oaks and sat. There was a warm breeze blowing off the river and the lace curtains were moving gently with the wind. A full moon shone through the window and I could see all the way down the bluffs to the Mississippi.

What did the dream mean I wondered? I'd had it in times past but never so vivid. I decided to go talk to Mama Kaylo as soon as the sun came up. Mama Kaylo could read dreams. The darkies believed she could talk to the dead, weave spells and make charms.

I touched my round belly and thought about the time six years ago I slipped down to Mama Kaylo's shack and bought a charm to get me with child. Was that where it all started? Four years married and still barren. Morgan starting to drift away acting like he couldn't stand the sight of me. Or was it before that?

Maybe I should think it through from the beginning and remember everything that happened and then I'd understand the dream. My daddy was a learned man, a lawyer and a doctor from a family with deep roots in Louisiana's Iberville Parish. He always said that with the proper application of brainpower a person could riddle out any problem.

My name's Penelope Rambreau Millbrae. Daddy named me after Ulysses the Wanderer's wife. I was born twenty-six years ago in Plaquemine, Louisiana. Right after I reached my sixteenth birthday, the word spread through the parish that Morgan Millbrae the Master of Five Oaks, a Mississippi plantation containing 10,000 acres of the richest bottomland this side of the Nile Delta would be staying at the Thibodaux plantation for several weeks. He had come to look for a wife. He was the only child of Senator Daniel Millbrae and the Senator now a widower and getting along in years wanted to see his son settled.

The Thibodaux sent out invitations to a ball to provide Morgan an opportunity to view the eligible beauties of the parish. My momma was certain that Morgan would be interested in me. I wasn't so sure.

"Why would somebody like Morgan Millbrae want to marry me?" I asked while combing out her hair the night our invitation arrived.

"Of course, he will be interested in the most beautiful girl in Louisiana. Why Penelope with your looks and breeding stock, Morgan Millbrae would be a fool not to take an interest."

The mirror and all my friends said I was pretty so it must be true. The breeding part I came to understand in time. My father was one of seven boys who all lived to adulthood. Momma had four brothers who survived childhood. And I was the horribly spoiled only girl among five big strapping male siblings. The Millbrae's had not been successful breeders. Only Morgan of the three children sired by Senator Millbrae lived past infancy. I don't know how Momma learned these sorts of things but she knew.

"You will restore the Millbrae line, Penelope," said my mother confidently.

All this talk of lineage and childbearing may seem odd if you're not from around these parts but we were slave owners and the breeding of human beings was of keen interest. Normally, it was limited to slaves but it carried over to the planters themselves when it came to matrimony. They had to provide the progeny required to hand down the great plantations from generation to generation.

Of course, none of that meant anything to me at the time. I was a silly sixteen-year-old girl who took one look at the darkly handsome Morgan and fell madly in love. He was thirty-two, exactly twice my age but that didn't seem to matter. We danced twice and took a walk on the veranda while Momma informed the Senator that both sides of my family were given to procreate healthy masculine children.

Daddy gave me the biggest wedding anyone ever saw in Iberville Parish. People said you couldn't attend a finer wedding even in New Orleans. Momma sat me down the night before to talk about those duties of a wife that weren't mentioned in polite society.

I knew what was between my legs wasn't the same as a man's. Even a girl reared as genteelly as I had seen naked slaves. Still I had no idea what was supposed to happen my wedding night.

"Just lay quietly and let Morgan take his pleasure. Don't ever complain or refuse him," advised Momma.

"Will it hurt terribly?" I asked. One of my girlfriends told me that the first time like to have killed her older sister.

"Yes, at first, but over time you'll get used to it. With luck you'll get pregnant right away and Morgan will leave you alone until the baby is born then he'll want to have another right away."

"Was that the way it was with you and daddy?"

"I did my duty as a wife where your father was concerned. Men have lustful natures that cause them to develop an appetite for women's bodies. Morgan is a gentleman, not a drunkard or a gambler like your Uncle Lucius. Hopefully he won't be too demanding. Just be nice to him and do what he says even if you find it unpleasant and distasteful."

But I did not find it unpleasant or distasteful. On our wedding night after we got to our hotel in New Orleans, I discovered that men weren't the only ones with an appetite. After the maid had helped me undress and climb in bed I waited with a sense of dread for Morgan to arrive. I practically wet myself when I heard the door open and him walk over to me.

I kept my eyes closed tight and listened as he removed his robe and joined me in bed. I screeched when I felt his hands on my ankles.

"It's all right," said Morgan reassuringly.

I told myself to relax and be the great lady that Five Oaks deserved. Duty and family were important I reminded myself as Morgan eased on top of me. I felt him pressing between my sex and then a sharp pinch as he forced himself into me. I adjusted my legs to ease the pressure and was rewarded with the pleasant sensation of his manhood sinking into me.

Morgan began to slowly move back and forth. The enjoyment of what he was doing grew with each stroke. I kept waiting for the unpleasant part to begin. I wondered if I had misunderstood Momma. I was feeling things I had never felt before and they were overwhelming me.

I raised my head hungry for his kisses. Morgan's tongue forced its way past my lips and touched my tongue sparking another enjoyable sensation. My body reacted in a fashion totally unknown to me. I moaned and twisted my hips to increase the intensity of the feelings that were coming from my sexual parts. I wrapped my arms and legs around him and pressed my breasts against his chest as I lost control over my body.

"Whew, that was unexpected," said Morgan when he rolled off me.

"Did I do something wrong?"

"No, you were wonderful. I thought you'd adjust more slowly."

We spent the next three days making love. Now I remember dreaming about a black horse those nights. I was running beside it matching it stride for stride. We were covered in sweat and great clouds of steam were coming from our nostrils. In a dream you can keep up with a horse.

Morgan and I never left the room the entire honeymoon. I could tell Morgan was pleased with our lovemaking. But I did not get pregnant, not that time, not even that year nor the years after.

Four years passed and I did not bear children. I went to New Orleans to consult a specialist. He couldn't find anything wrong but recommended I try a salve he sold me. It didn't help. Slowly, my barrenness ate away at our love. In the fourth year of marriage, Morgan refused to come to my room at night and rode off to Natchez to a brothel. I didn't know what to do. I wanted to keep trying to make a baby but that took Morgan and he wasn't willing.

When the war started, Morgan formed a company of the local planters. We held a grande ball at Five Oaks to celebrate their departure for Longstreet's Army of the Tennessee. Our men talked of whipping the Yankees and being back before planting season. I was determined to make one last attempt to re-capture Morgan's love. I went to the expense of having a dressmaker from New Orleans come to Five Oaks and design a daring gown. My bosom was practically falling out and I wore a corset that squeezed me to where I couldn't breathe. I danced and flirted with the other men especially Gerard Ribodeau, a first cousin of Morgan's whose plantation bordered Five Oaks. Morgan and Gerard had a friendly rivalry and I hoped to make him jealous. I succeeded too well.

When out guests had left, I slipped into a sleeping gown I had ordered from Paris. It was red silk and exposed my bosom. I found Morgan sitting alone in the Library.

"Morgan, come to bed. I want to make this night special," I said putting my hand on his shoulder and leaning down to kiss his cheek.

"Did I mention how beautiful you looked tonight," said Morgan not looking at me.

"Why thank you darling, do you like my sleeping gown, all the way from Paris," I said turning around pleased that he seemed to notice me.

"So that's what fashionable whores in Paris are wearing now."

"Morgan, please, it's our last night together for a while."

"And you chose to parade around like a strumpet in front of every man in the county."

"I wanted to look pretty for you and get you to pay me some mind." I said coquettishly.

"Oh I noticed all right. And so did everyone else especially Gerard. Is he bedding you? When you go for those long rides in the morning, do you find your way to Montrose?" Montrose was the Ribodeau plantation.

"No, of course not, how could you say such a thing. He's your cousin."

"Why not, I'm not sleeping with you. And quite frankly I don't care if he does have you. In fact just to show you how little I do care I'm riding to Polly Simpson's place in Natchez tonight," said Morgan getting up to leave.

"Don't go, Morgan," I pleaded throwing myself at him.

He grabbed my wrists and twisted them until I screamed. For the first time ever, he meant to hurt me. He threw me to the floor, spat the words, " barren whore" at me and walked out of the room. I got up and ran after him. By the time I got to the veranda he was mounted. He hesitated for a moment when he saw me.

"Please Morgan, not tonight, don't leave me," I said dropping to my knees.

"When I come back from this war there are going to be some changes made at Five Oaks," said Morgan as he whipped his horse and rode away.

I sat there sobbing for a while. I was startled to hear a voice from nearby.

"Now that was damn touching," said Gerard. I could see the glow of his cigar in the dark.

"What are you still doing here?"

"Just hung around to see how your little tableau would end, pretty much as I expected."

"Where's Maybelline?" I asked referring to Gerard's wife.

"She went on home with her folks. I told her I had some business with Morgan and would be along in a while."

"Well as you can see Morgan's left."

"Yes off to Miss Polly's. He has a Creole girl there he's fond of. Camille, she's got fiery red hair and eyes like emeralds. They say she can do things to a man that make him forget all about the little woman at home."

"I'm willing to do anything Morgan asks," I said defiantly.

"I'll just bet you would. The problem is he ain't asking. Come closer and let me see your gown. I might get one for Maybelline."

"It's not decent."

"So Morgan said. But I want to form my own opinion."

I walked over to Gerard. It was actually too dark to see anything.

"You can't see anything here," I said.

"Come and sit down."

To my utter shame I did knowing all the while what would happen. As soon as I sat, Gerard put his arms around me and kissed me. I didn't hesitate to kiss him back. His hand slipped inside my gown to touch my breast.

"I've been admiring these all evening," said Gerard moving the thin material aside so he could kiss my nipple. My breath betrayed me as I placed my hand on the back of his head and pressed him against my breast.

"Bite it," I breathed. "Hurt me."

"What they say about you is true," said Gerard his teeth hurting my flesh his hand pressing between my open legs.

"What do they say? No, don't tell me. I don't want to hear," I said as I pushed my sex against his palm.

"They say you're too much woman for Morgan."

"Am I too much woman for you?"

"Let's find out."

"Take me," I said pulling my gown up to expose my sex.

Gerard did take me right there on the veranda. He ripped off my beautiful sleeping gown and threw me over the back of the couch. He grabbed my hips and entered me brutally from behind. Somehow he knew what I needed. He hurt me and I needed the hurt.

"Harder, damn you, go harder," I pleaded reaching back to grab his hand and bring it to my breast. I squeezed his fingers forcing him to cause me pain. Too quickly, Gerard finished in me. He got up to leave but I grabbed him and pulled him to me.

"Wait, wait, I'll make you want me again," I said putting my hands on his manhood and stroking it.

"What does the Mistress of Five Oaks have in mind?"

"Anything, I'll do anything."

"When I visit Miss Polly's I also buy Camille. Will you do what she does?"

"I said anything."

"Kneel down."

I knelt down between his legs. His manhood glistened in the moonlight.

"Lick it like a colt does when you give it a piece of sorghum."

I'd never touched a man with my mouth but I was so desperate and unhappy that I performed what he asked.

"Now put it in your mouth and suck it like a New Orleans whore."

Once again I found myself with no will other than to do what Gerard asked. I discovered there was pleasure in having him in my mouth. Pleasure that erupted deep inside that pit between my legs and crawled up to my tongue and lips. As his manhood swelled my own passion grew.

I knew that decent women were not supposed to do things like that let alone take pleasure from it. Using your mouth on a man's sex was for the prostitutes of Storyville or the brothels in the river towns.

"You're pretty damn good. You could work for Polly become a brothel girl after Morgan kicks you out."

His manhood regained its full firmness and he tumbled me on my back and entered me. This time he lasted and I got what I craved.

"Penelope Millbrae you are too much woman for Morgan Millbrae, maybe too much for me. I'll be back to find out when we run the Yankees all the way to New York," said Gerard as he disappeared into the darkness.

I went upstairs and dreamed of a black horse charging across Five Oaks. The rider was lashing her flanks with his crop. Except the horse wasn't feeling the crop I was. I woke up and discovered I had for the first time succumbed to the sin of masturbation. After that night it became a nightly temptation I couldn't resist.

A month later I discovered that Gerard had put a baby in my belly. I lied and told everyone it was a miracle that Morgan and I created that last night before he went off to war.

Gerard never returned. He fell at Corinth. A mini-ball cleaved half his head away. Maybelline almost went mad with grief.

Morgan didn't write to me but he did send letters to the Senator. The Senator felt sorry for me and read them aloud at dinner. I persuaded the Senator not to write to Morgan that I was with child.

It'll be such a wonderful surprise for when he returns," I said pointing to my growing waistline.

The Senator agreed giving me a knowing look. He was nobody's fool. I suspect he knew that Morgan was the reason I could not conceive. Eight months later, I fulfilled my destiny by giving birth to a healthy baby boy. The Senator seemed genuinely pleased when I suggested we name him Daniel. The Senator may have had his preferences as to how his bloodline would be carried on but he was enough of a realist to accept Daniel as his own. Besides, Little Daniel had the Millbrae chin. Well, Gerard was a first cousin.

Morgan's company did not make it back for planting season that year or the next three. They fought in all the big battles. I cried when the Senator read the one that came after Antietam. Morgan said he would never smile again. He had spent the day at the Bloody Angle witnessing the most murderous day of the war.

The war slowly took everything. First went all the cash money, not that planters ever had much of that. When Admiral Farragut captured New Orleans and froze the bank accounts of Confederates I was cut off from my own money. Then I sold my jewels even my wedding ring. I took the Millbrae silver to Baton Rouge and pawned it. The remaining men went off to war. Our overseer left and I took over his job.

The day came that the Senator and I were the only white folks remaining at Five Oaks. I worked seven days a week from first light until dark to keep the place running. The Senator did what he could at eighty-one; but one scorching delta day Delilah the housemaid came running to me to tell that I needed to see to the Senator.

I found him hatless wandering near the slave cabins. His trousers were unbuttoned and he had exposed himself. He said he was looking for Morgan and Cecile, his dead wife. With Delilah's help, I managed to get him back to the house and into bed. That night he came into my room naked calling for Cecile and tried to get in my bed. Once again, Delilah came to my aid. She reached between the Senator's legs to take his cock in her hand and gently stroked it.

"There Senator Dan, you come along to Delilah's bed and she'll be good to you." He followed her tamely down the hall.

Lincoln had issued the Emancipation Proclamation and the slaves started to slip away when evenings came. I was surprised that Garamond and Françoise had stayed.

Before the war Morgan had purchased the two brothers at a slave auction in New Orleans. They were Octoroons only one eight Negro. Still, according to Mississippi law, an eighth was the same as a whole in declaring someone Black. They had been taught to read and write by an owner who subscribed to abolitionist thinking. Educating slaves was illegal in Mississippi but not Louisiana.

When their owner had died, the heirs had destroyed the will setting the brothers free. Slaves were valuable and the brothers auctioned. Morgan had an idea that he could use educated slaves to perform some of the bookwork required to run Five Oaks.

But one of the brothers proved a problem. Garamond refused to labor as a field hand when he wasn't busy keeping accounts. Morgan tried to be patient but when Garamond openly defied him, Morgan and Mr. Waverly the Overseer decided to make an example.

All the slaves were assembled to watch. Garamond was suspended from a tree limb. I had wondered what about all the commotion and walked out to see what was happening. I watched as Mr. Waverly stepped forward and cut the rope that held up Garamond's trousers allowing them to fall to the ground. Garamond was a magnificent physical specimen. His manhood was huge. Mr. Waverly uncoiled the bullwhip and began. Inside of a dozen strokes Garamond was crying and begging the Master to stop.

When Morgan saw me watching he rushed over to order me back into the house.

"Get the hell inside, Penelope, you've no business being out here." Morgan had noticed that I was staring at a part of Garamond's anatomy that no decent white woman should see.

Now with only a few slaves remaining, I'd given up on planting even a small portion of the plantation. My goal was to grow enough food to keep us alive. I ordered Garamond to plow a small fertile plot that would produce vegetables to see us through the winter. After noon, I rode out to see how he was progressing.

It was a blistering hot day and I had pulled my skirt up to above my knees to cool my legs as I rode. When I reached the plot I saw that Garamond had only plowed a dozen furrows. I was furious.

"Don't you want to eat, nigger?" I yelled as I rode up.

He was barefoot, shirtless, clad only in straw hat and a pair of homespun trousers. When I looked down I saw he was looking directly at me. A male slave was supposed to touch the brim of his hat and cast his eyes down to the ground when addressing a white woman.

"It's hot, Mistress. I have to stop and get the mules water or they'll quit on me," said Garamond who casually committed the unpardonable offence of reaching out and placing his hand on my bare thigh. A planter could by law kill a slave that touched a white woman.

"Damn your insolence," I said as I brought my horsewhip down across his bare shoulder. When I rose to strike again, he reached up grabbed my whip arm and pulled me from my horse. He dragged me to the back of the plow. I struggled as he used leather straps to tie my wrists to the plow handles. I screamed for help as he wrapped the wide leather bands round and round my wrists.

"Let's see what the sun does to that white skin, Mistress Penelope," said Garamond as he grabbed the back of my dress and ripped it open. His powerful hands tore it off leaving me standing there wearing only my drawers. In frenzy he shredded the muslin into small swatches. But he didn't stop there. Garamond reached around my waist to untie the drawstring and pulled my drawers down. He grabbed my leg to pull my ridding boot off taking both drawers and boot off in the same motion.

"Plow in your bare feet like me," said Garamond pulling the other boot off. When he untied the bow that held my hat on, I was naked as the day I was born.

"Don't rape me, Garamond, you know what they do to slaves that rape a planter's wife." The accepted practice was to set up a large kettle, force all the other male slaves to bring firewood and make them watch, as the rapist was boiled alive.

"Rape you, who'd want you. They say the Master don't even want you no more," said Garamond dismissively. "Start plowing, Mistress."

I realized that he intended I plow in his place. He clutched the mules' traces in one hand and my horsewhip in the other. He commanded the mules to move as he landed the whip across my back. I howled in pain.

"Keep the furrows straight, Mistress Penelope," said Garamond striking harder.

Plowing is work reserved for the largest and strongest of slaves. The sun baked my body as I struggled to keep the plow true as it coursed through the earth. He applied the whip repeatedly when it swerved off course.

"See how if feels to be whipped like a dog."

I plowed six furrows before my strength failed and I fell exhausted to my knees.

"Get up, Mistress, we're not near done yet, don't you want to grow enough taters to feed that bastard of yours?" screamed Garamond raining blows down on my bare back.

I screamed and sobbed as he whipped me. I groveled in the dirt begging him to stop. I tried to stand but couldn't. At some point whether from exhausting his fury or sensing the enormity of his offense, Garamond stopped. He calmly walked over to the side of the field and filled a bucket with water from the well. When he returned, he held the bucket up so the mules could drink. After they finished he walked back to me. I was still sitting in the dirt hanging by my arms from the plow handles.

"What you thinking, Mistress? How you're going to get the sheriff to come and hang me or boil me," said Garamond as he took a ladle of water and flung it into my face.

"No, just let me go, I won't say anything," I said the water dripping off my face. I saw that Garamond was staring at my naked breasts. He was no longer looking at me as a hated slave owner but as a woman. I could tell it in his eyes.

"Thing for me to do is jump on that horse of yours and go find the Yankee army."

"Don't, I need you here," I said.

"Now that's a mighty strange thing for you to say. Master Morgan would kill this nigger in an instant if he knew what I'd done," said Garamond leaning in closer to me so his face was inches from mine.

"Take me if you want but don't leave." To this day I wonder why I said that. Was I crazy from the heat, the whipping and the exhaustion of guiding a plow? Or was I just hoping to survive to take care of my son? All those sound right and I could go to my grave believing them. The problem is that as I hung there, filthy, my back on fire, I wanted Garamond.

"Crazy white bitch, I'm leaving,' said Garamond getting up.

"No, no, don't go, untie me and I'll show you what I can do to pleasure you," I said through parched lips.

"Suppose I want you to be the slave and I'll be the Master. I'll move to the big house and sleep with the Master's wife."

"I'll be your slave," I said.

"Can I take you right here in the dirt like you were some Negress field hand fucking the Overseer between the cotton rows?"

"Yes, untie me I'll do what you want."

Garamond hesitated. Then he untied me. I filled the ladle with water and drank. Then I rolled over on my back and spread my legs extending my arms toward Garamond. I lay in the deep furrow I'd just plowed with the soft dirt cushioning my bleeding back. The sides of the furrow cradled my body offering it to Garamond. Garamond fell to his knees between my legs all the while hardening his cock with his fist. Without hesitating, he forced himself into a passage untrammeled since that night with Gerard.

As soon as I felt his entry, my pent up lust burst forth. I wrapped myself around his massive body clinging desperately to him as he took me. I writhed in the rich topsoil. My bloody back leached into the earth as my sex grasped his hardness. I felt the heat of decaying vegetation burning into the cuts left by the whip. I could live several lifetimes and never feel passion like that moment when the rich brown earth held me against Garamond black body.

And then matters peaked and my being soared and in my mind I rode the black horse as it rode me.

Afterwards, Garamond took me to a stream to wash the dirt from out bodies. There was a flat rock and we lay together to dry in the sun. My lust returned and I took him in my mouth as I had done for Gerard that night. When I had restored his hardness, I mounted him and rode him until we both were satisfied.

It was dark when we returned to the big house and slept together in my bed. I became mistress by day and slave by night. Copulation of a white woman with a male slave was considered the most shameful act a woman could perform but I exulted in it.

The next day Garamond finished the plowing early and that night he brought Françoise with him. Françoise knew to pleasure a woman with his mouth. He opened up a whole new world to me. Françoise brought Delilah to our bed and I willingly committed all the sins of Sodom and Gomorrah.

I slept with the three of them until Lee surrendered. Shortly after that, Annabelle their child and mine was born. I had barely recovered from the birthing when I looked out one morning toward the Ribodeau plantation and saw plumes of smoke. I loaded the Senator's dueling pistols and rode to Montrose. The place was burnt to the ground. Deserters had come in the night to kill and rape. I found Maybelline and her sister Charlotte in one of the slave cabins with their female slaves. They'd been raped and throats cut. I was about to leave when I heard a noise in the bushes. I leveled the pistol in that direction and invited the source to appear or be shot. Little Gerard stumbled out. He was crying and mumbling about his mother and aunt. I took him back to Five Oaks.

It was then that I made the acquaintance of General Aloysius Kramer of the 105 ^th Pennsylvania. General Kramer made Five Oaks his headquarters for the next two years and I became his mistress. Garamond and Françoise departed for Chicago where they opened a haberdashery. The General proved very helpful when the newly elected Reconstruction governor decided to assume ownership of Five Oaks for back taxes. General Kramer and I with a detachment of his soldiers visited the Governor's office to set matters right. The Governor and his scalawag friends quickly switched to easier pickings. I was also able to save Montrose for young Gerard.

All the time I assumed I was a widow. When General Kramer returned to his own wife and family in Philadelphia I had managed to restore Five Oaks to full operation. Two of my brothers had come to help me. Cotton prices were at an all time high due to the interruption in planting brought on by the war. It was then that matters took another turn.

"Mommy, there's a man coming," yelled Daniel as he raced into the kitchen. Even though the war had been over almost two years, there was still lawlessness and strangers were not to be trusted. The men were working the fields. I reached for the Sharps rifle and slid a .54 caliber cartridge into the chamber. In spite of my swollen belly I ran to meet the stranger.

I watched as a rider slowly made his way to Five Oaks. Even from that distance I could see that he was ridding a poor piece of horseflesh. Rider and horse looked all in. Some poor broken down soldier making his way back home I told myself. I'd given food and a night's lodging to a number of these damaged warriors. But I was still cautious since there were only women and children about. Daniel was clinging to my skirt and Annabelle was asleep on the veranda.

I didn't recognize Morgan until he climbed off the horse. His hair had turned white and his right sleeve was empty. He was limping too as he leaned against the hitching rail.

"Daniel, take your daddy's horse to the stable and get it some feed," I said to Daniel. He looked at me funny but I was using the voice that said no questions would be entertained and failure to act promptly would result in a switching.

"Daddy," questioned Morgan watching Daniel as he took the horse away.

"Yea, daddy, he's got the Millbrae chin. That little curly haired beauty asleep over there is your daughter Annabelle."

"Is that one mine too?" said Morgan pointing toward ten year old Gerard who had appeared from somewhere.

"Yes, by adoption, that's Gerard and Maybelline's son. I'm raising him as my own. I figure that's the least I can do for Maybelline since I slept with her husband."

"And that one?" pointing toward my belly.

"Yours too, a gift from a generous Yankee general that helped me to keep Five Oaks from the scalawags and carpetbaggers. It's going to be a boy I can tell by the way he kicks."

"And how did you repay his generosity?" asked Morgan.

"With the only currency I had at the time. I paid him every chance I got and he didn't have to ask not even once."

"I guess we have all been through a lot," said Morgan who was having trouble standing. He was leaning heavily on the rail.

"That we have, Morgan. I'm no longer the helpless barren wife you left six years ago to visit a whorehouse. Gerard, bring Morgan a chair before he falls down."

Gerard grabbed one of the straight chairs off the porch and brought it to Morgan. Morgan wearily sat down.

"Thank you kindly, son," said Morgan looking carefully at the boy. "He looks like his daddy."

"That he does," I said.

"Are you going to let me into my own home?"

"Not yours anymore, Morgan. We had to re-register the deeds in my name. Since everyone thought you were dead, the lawyers wouldn't put your name on the property."

"So I don't even have a home anymore," said Morgan sadly.

"This can be your home again if you make the right choice."

"And what are my choices, Penelope?"

"These children need a father and I need a husband. If you accept all of us as your own and not look back, then walk into Five Oaks and assume your rightful place. But if that's something you can't see your way to then get back on that mangy black horse of yours and ride out of here."

"The war's changed me, Penelope."

"It's changed us all."

"I heard the Senator's passed on."

"He went peacefully in his sleep. God rest his soul. Morgan, it's hot out here and I'm pregnant. Make up your mind stay or go."

"Oh, I'm staying."

"My terms."

"Your terms, you're the Mistress of Five Oaks."

"Daniel, Gerard, help your father into the house."