Forbidden

Chapter 1: The Meeting

This is my first story that I have ever posted, so please feel free to give constructive criticism and feedback. I would really appreciate it. :)

Kate O’Hara was strolling through the tall indigo plants, which were ripe for harvest, as she did almost every day when she heard shouting from a couple rows over. She hiked up her skirts and pushed through the plants until she reached the source of the commotion. She peered between the leaves to see her father, who must have been on his daily rounds, yelling at a young slave.

“Samuel! Get back to work!”   

“I’m not working until I have taken my sister back to our room. She is sick. She can’t stay out here,” the slave, who must have been Samuel, replied.

At the mention of his sister Kate looked around and sure enough there was another young slave, this one female, and she was slumped on the ground coughing.

“You may take care of her once the work day is done! She can sit there until then,” her father replied angrily.

“No.”

“Then I will beat you for your disobedience. You have forgotten your place, slave.”

As Kate’s father raised the whip she darted out from behind the indigo. “Father!” she shouted, “What are you doing? He is only trying to help his sister. Would you want Nathaniel to leave me lying on the ground in the hot sun if I was ill?” She blurted. “Kate!” he roared “What are you doing out here? I have forbidden all of you children from coming out to the fields! Get your sorry backside into the house this instant.” He commanded. “No, I’ll not leave without you; I need my strong Papa to protect me,” she said in a syrupy voice while batting her long, dark lashes. “Fine, then you will watch. It is past time I showed you how to deal with troublesome slaves anyhow.” Her father snapped. “What?!” she gasped. “No!” she shouted as she turned to run. She didn’t want to see her father beat this man; she couldn’t bear it. Her father grasped her upper arm before she had time to take even a few steps. “You will watch.” He snarled. Still holding her with one hand he raised the whip with the other. “Take off your shirt,” her father commanded. The slave, Samuel did as he was told, turning away from us he did so. She wondered why his sister hadn’t said or done anything during this whole exchange. It was her he had been trying to help. Then she saw that the girl was now unconscious; most likely from the sweltering noontime heat. Her attention was abruptly drawn back to Samuel when she heard a sharp whistling sound. The leather whip made a sickening crack as it connected with Samuel’s bare back. To her great surprise, he didn’t cry out. He only stiffened for a moment; despite what she was sure was excruciating pain. Her father let the whip fly five more times, and he never made a single sound, though by the time the whip tore through his flesh for the last time Samuel had dropped down to his knees.  And just like that it was over and her father released her arm. As soon as Kate was free she took off in the direction of her family’s huge plantation house. She was certain that her father would assume she had taken off due to the shock of the slave boy’s beating, but in reality she had gone to fetch help for the sick girl and perhaps the boy as well.

                Kate burst into the kitchen, breast heaving as she had run the whole two miles back to her house in bloomers , three layers of petticoats, a corset and stays, not to mention the dress itself. Her light brown hair was plastered to her face and neck with sweat and her big, blue eyes were wild with adrenaline. “Esmeralda!  Esmeralda!” Kate shouted. “Come quick. One of the slave girls in the field is sick and she has fainted. Her brother, Samuel is hurt too.” She hurriedly explained. 

Esmeralda was the O’Hara’s cook, occasional housekeeper, and former nurse to Mr. and Mrs. O’Hara’s twelve children. Since they had no babies to be taken care of at the moment she was temporarily relieved of that duty. Of all the children Kate cared about her old nursemaid the most, and considered her to be a figure of almost motherly authority in her life. Kate was also one of the few O’Hara children that still called her Essie, which was a nickname that had been given to her because as toddlers the O’Hara children were unable to say Esmeralda.