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.The magnificent gardens and reflective pools rose above mirror-bright waters of a nearby lake.But Thorn saw something else, too—there was evidence of neglect.It was summer, and yet he saw no indication that the fields had been tilled.There were no cotton stalks with their unopened cotton balls as there should have been.On closer inspection, he observed that the usually manicured grounds were untended and weeds choked the flowerbeds.What was wrong?Thorn had come by way of the road, which was considered to be the back of the manor house where all the outbuildings, barns, and stables were located.Here, too, he saw neglect.Slave cabins had fallen into disrepair, and the stable door was hanging on rusted hinges.He pushed his uneasiness aside.It was a beautiful morning; the mist still clung to the tops of the live oaks that were draped with Spanish moss.The front lawn was terraced and flanked by three reflective pools which sloped down to the Ashley River.Black swans nested near the rice mill pond, and tame deer roamed unafraid in the vast park.Home.Thorn had come home at last.Until now, he had not fully realized how much he missed the land of his birthright.When he had gone to sea, he had been an angry young man, and the Victorious had only been his substitute for Stoddard Hill.Deep inside he had always known that he would one day return, for this land was in his blood, it was his heritage.For over a hundred years this plantation had gone to the eldest Stoddard son.Now, Wilhelmina must fancy herself as lady of the manor.How she must have gloated in triumph the night his father had ordered him to leave.Raw anger burned in Thorn’s heart.Even now Wilhelmina might try to keep him from seeing his father, but he was prepared to deal with that.No woman, not even the treacherous Wilhelmina, would keep him away.Of course there was always the possibility that his father might not want to see him.If that was the case, Thorn was prepared to ride away and never again attempt to contact his father.Thorn looped the horse’s reins around his hand and led the animal forward, not knowing what kind of reception he could expect.Thorn had always thought of himself as a fearless man but the thought of facing his father made him physically sick inside.He had always admired his father, and until Wilhelmina had come along, they had been closer than most fathers and sons, for they had both shared a love for this land.Now that Thorn was older, he realized what a fool he had been for allowing Wilhelmina to be rid of him so easily.He should have demanded that his father hear the truth; now perhaps it was too late.When he approached the stable, a young boy came forward with a smile on his black face.“Does you wants me to stable your horse, suh?”“No,” Thorn answered, looking the boy over to see if he was familiar.He wasn’t.“I may not be staying that long.Just keep him in the shade and give him water and oats.”“Yes’suh,” the boy agreed, leading the horse into the coolness of the stable.“Is the master at home?” Thorn inquired, not realizing he was holding his breath, waiting for the answer.The boy’s dark eyes moved over Thorn with open curiosity.“Yes’suh, the master’s in, but he’s been feeling poorly, and the mistress, she don’t let him have visitors no more, and she ain’t home right now, so you can’t see him.”Thorn’s eyes ran the length of the stable, searching for Old Rubin who had been in charge of the horses for as long as Thorn could remember.Rubin had set Thorn on his first horse and had taught him how to ride.With a feeling of dread, at last Thorn asked: “Who tends the horses?”The boy shook his head.“The mistress done hired a new man when Ole Rubin died.Mr.Turner gives orders now.I’s his helper,” he said with pride.“Rubin must have worked in the stables for over sixty years,” Thorn said, more to himself than the boy.“I suppose I expected him to live forever.”The young boy’s eyes held a puzzled light.“No’suh, he done died of the fever.Ain’t none of us live forever, ’cepting maybe ole Esmeralda.”Thorn thought of the slave he had always called Granny.She had to be well over a hundred now.“Is that old woman still alive?”“Yes’suh.We reckon she’ll be here after we’re all dead and buried.”With grim determination, Thorn turned his steps toward the house, not knowing what he would find there, or the extent of his father’s illness [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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