Anxious to return home, she tucked the charm into her
pocket and snatching up her lantern, walked quickly to the edge of the forest. She was still unsure of her
reception here. Many of the men and women nursed
grudges against her as a free woman of color, and the old
man was gone, unable to stand between her and any
possible antagonists. Relieved when she had reached the
edge of the clearing to step at last onto the forest path,
she had gone only a few feet when a hand firmly clasped
her shoulder, freezing her into immobility.
The unyielding grip turned her slowly to face a
powerful shadow towering a head and shoulders above
her, the massive masculine frame almost indiscernible in
the light of the small lantern. But there was only one man
who dwarfed Tillie Swann to that extent. Gradually
raising her lantern, Tillie's glance caught and held the
steely stare of sharp black eyes. Slowly, her gaze moved
over the broad, flat features, the full lips compressed into
an angry line, the dark brown skin still smooth despite
the gray scattered amongst the short-cropped hair on
his well shaped head.
"Why you not look fe Raymond, Tillie Swann? You
gowan run fe home n' run frem Raymond?"
In a hard voice contrasting vividly with the familiar
weakness besetting her, Tillie responded harshly, "This
be important business, Raymond. Tillie have no time to
look fe any old slave..."
"Raymond not `any ole slave,' Tillie." The hand on
Tillie's shoulder tightened spontaneously and a slight
trembling began inside her.
"Besides," Tillie continued with a vague negative
gesture as if he had not spoken, diverting her eyes from
his intense stare, "Tillie getting' too old to play
games..."
The large calloused hand gripping her shoulder moved
to smooth back the wisps at her hairline which had
worked loose from the tight bun at the base of her neck.
Raising her chin with his hand, Raymond forced her to resume contact with his eyes.
"Tillie not too old fe Raymond. Tillie Swann be
beautiful woman.. .woman fe me...fe me..."
"Tillie not you woman, Raymond!" Jerking her face
from his caress, Tillie responded heatedly, "Tillie be free
woman! Belong to no one! And you be slave, Raymond!"
Her glance filled with contempt she continued, "Slave
man, him got no woman!"
"Raymond, him have you, Tillie Swann." Raymond's
whispered statement bore the power of conviction as he
slowly perused her countenance, sending the blood
flooding into her face.
"No!" Taking a step backward, Tillie shook her head
emphatically. "No! I gowan find a fine mulatto man fe
me. No more games with black Guerney Bird!"
His eyes flaring with anger at her insult, Raymond's
voice was a low hiss. "Raymond Creole black, Tillie. Him
born on island, jes' like you!"
"That be right, Raymond," Tillie hissed in return,
"but before my father lose him plantation and die, my
father own you and you mama!"
"Yaw, you faddah own Raymond, Tillie, but him own
you mama, too!"
"But him not own Tillie!" Tillie countered hotly.
"Tillie be free woman, too good for old slave that belong
another man now."
All trace of anger suddenly leaving his face, Raymond
stared intently into Tillie's flashing eyes for a few long
moments. Slowly reaching for her hand, he tugged gently
as he spoke in a firm voice. "You come wid Raymond
now, Tillie. No more hallah. I'se put up new place to lay.
Fraish 'n clean, jes' like Tillie want. Tillie come lay wid
Raymond... Raymond be mightly lonesome fe Tillie."
The simple sincerity in the black eyes looking down
into hers eating steadily into her resistance, Tillie
mumbled with a valiant attempt to retain her reserve, "Lonesome! Hmph! How many women you take since
Tillie see you last, Raymond?"
His dark eyes holding hers intently, Raymond
responded softly, "Raymond take no woman. Tillie him
woman."
Swallowing tightly against the emotion choking her
throat, Tillie nodded slightly, allowing Raymond to take
the lantern
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