Story: Colonel Williams, Ch. 2, pt. II

Williams walked back to his cart while Fulton mounted his horse. He grudgingly allowed Alejandro to ride with Williams back to the main house of the estate.
As they approached the house, the slanted sunlight of a spring evening provided a warm beauty to the structure. Like the Colonel’s, it was white, but it was built in a more modern style, three stories tall with no front porch. Smoke rose lazily from the back chimney. Off to its right, numerous poorly-constructed shacks marked the slaves’ quarters. Cotton, bean, and tobacco fields spread in every direction for almost as far as Williams could see. The holdings of Mister Bryce Andrews were vast, far greater than his own, and he knew that Andrews had a reputation for being a cruel, dishonest man. He only hoped that he could buy Alejandro from Andrews for less than twice what Andrews had paid.
As the arrived at the front entrance to the house, they dismounted. With a stern reminder that Alejandro had to stay outside, Fulton entered.
“Wait, here, Alejandro,” Williams said in Spanish, and then he, too, went inside.
The inside of the house was nowhere near as beautiful as the outside. The main hallway was decorated haphazardly, with hunting trophies, weapons, and portraits hanging randomly on the wall. A painting of Andrews’ great-grandfather hung between a firearm and the giant head of buck, perhaps to indicate this was the man’s prize catch. Neither animal nor weapon hung next to Andrews’ portrait, a picture obviously painted many years ago, when Andrews was in his twenties. If any were to hang there, thought Williams, the animal would be a man and the weapon would be a crooked ledger sheet.
Fulton led him down the hall to the second door on the right, a double door of solid oak, stained deep brown. Knocking on the door, he waited for his boss’s acknowledgement before entering.
“What is it, Fulton?” demanded Andrews, a heavyset man with receding hair and thin eyebrows.
“Mister Andrews, sir, I was disciplining one of the new servants we have here on the plantation when Colonel Williams here interrupted me, claiming that the man did not understand. I told him to mind his own business, but he wouldn’t listen. He talked to the man for a minute or so and then insisted that he meet with you for some reason.”
Andrews frowned. “You do realize, Colonel,” he asked in a quiet yet threatening manner, “that I would be within my rights to have you arrested for trespassing and sabotage for your interference in the running of my plantation? I don’t appreciate people interfering in my business anymore than I imagine you like people involving themselves in yours.”
“I realize that full well, Mister Andrews,” Williams responded, undaunted by Andrews’ threatening calm, “but your foreman was beating a man who did not understand what was being asked of him because he speaks no English. This man was separated from his family at the market yesterday, and all he wants is to be reunited with them…”
Andrews interrupted before Williams could continue, “Ah, yes, a sob story.” He rose from his chair, turned his back to Williams and stared out the windows. “Do you realize how many tragedies I have heard in my life, Colonel?” he asked rhetorically, assuming a more formal speaking style. “More than a few, and they mostly are excuses concocted by lazy servants who wish to do as little as possible to get themselves freed from their contract of servitude as quickly as possible. This man’s story, I am sure, is nothing that I have not heard before. I would not take his word so quickly. After all, he did get himself into deep debt. How honest can he be?”
Williams shook his head. “You can disbelieve him if you wish, Mister Andrews, but I believe him. I’ve met many crooked and dishonest people in life, and Alejandro seems forthright to me.”
“So might the fox seem to the hounds, Colonel,” Andrews replied, turning to face Williams. “He could well be a skillful liar.”
“Have you ever talked with him, Mister Andrews? Have you heard his story?”
“I don’t talk with my servants in that way, Colonel. It only weakens my authority and makes me appear soft. Unyielding law and a just hand wielding it, those are the tools that bring about an ordered world, whether on a plantation or in a government.”
“I’m not here to discuss your philosophy of government. I’m here to help Alejandro.”
“Help him?” A puzzled look flashed across Andrews face before narrowing to uncertain suspicion. “How?”
“I intend to help him reunite with his family, which is why I wanted to talk with you.”
“Colonel,” Andrews said, smiling slightly, “If you think I know where his family is, you’re mistaken. I’ve no idea what I can do to help you find them. I bought him from the market owner, Mister Johnson, in town. He was by himself at that point, and if he had any family with him, they were nowhere to be seen.”
“I don’t want information from you on his family, Mister Andrews. I want to buy him from you,” Williams replied.
Andrews thought this over for a second, wrinkling his forehead into many tiny ridges. “Leave us, Fulton,” he ordered his foreman.
“Yes, Mister Andrews,” Fulton replied, exciting quickly and shutting the doors behind him.
“You want to buy this new man of mine, Colonel? Well, it’s not going to be inexpensive. This man indebted himself greatly to arrive here in the United States, and I paid off his debt. In return, he owes me seven years of labor. The only way I could part with him would be for what he will be worth to me as a worker.” He stopped, hoping that mentioning such a staggering figure would daunt Williams.
It didn’t. Andrews did not realize how wealthy Williams was. “How much are we talking, exactly, Mister Andrews?”
“I would say that twenty million dollars should cover it,” Andrews replied, a small, greedy grin filling his face.
Williams fought the urge to laugh. Was that all a slave was worth to Andrews? A few years of a common laborer’s salary? “All right, Andrews, you have a deal,” he said. Pulling out his checkbook, he wrote out the necessary check.
Andrews laughed. “I don’t understand why you’re really so interested in this guy, Williams, but he’s all yours now.” He resumed a serious demeanor. “If you’ll excuse me, Colonel, I have other matters to attend to.”
Williams replied, “Of course, Mister Andrews.” He walked out of the man’s office, heading back out to the front of the house. Alejandro waited there, still sitting in the cart.
“You’re going to come with me, now, Alejandro,” Williams said in Spanish.
A huge smile spread across Alejandro’s face. “Are you going to help me find my family?”
“I will try, Alejandro,” Williams replied, climbing on the cart and starting to drive back to Providence.

The sun cast glorious shades of orange and red across the western horizon as the cart rattled to a stop in front of the carriage house. Roderick met Williams there; he clearly had been waiting for his employer to return with some concern.
“Where have you been, sir?” he asked. “Supper has been ready for a while, and we have been expecting you.”
“I’m sorry, Roderick,” Williams replied, “but I saw Alejandro, here, being mistreated by Bryce Andrews’ foreman and felt led to intervene. I’ll tell you the whole story inside over supper.”
“Come in and eat with us, Alejandro,” he added to the Cuban.
Over supper, Williams explained the situation to Roderick, who ate with Williams, as was his custom. As he finished explaining the situation, Roderick’s face became concerned. “Sir, how do you plan to find this man’s wife and daughter?”
Williams replied, “I’m not sure, Roderick. Alejandro couldn’t understand what was going on, since he knows no English. But I think that we should be able to go into town tomorrow and convince Johnson, who runs the market, to let us look at the sales records to see who bought them.”
“I hope it will be that easy, sir,” Roderick said.
Williams sighed. “Me, too, Roderick. Me, too.”