The Spoils of Sin by Rebecca Tope

effortlessly keeping pace, evidently enjoying the change of routine.
    Here and there people were working the fields, using horses in most instances. ‘I have just realised what’s so odd,’ said Carola. ‘All these workers are white-skinned. Where I come from, they would be of a far darker colour.’
    â€˜Slaves,’ nodded Fanny. She had heard her share of horror stories as to the treatment of the human cattle in the southern states. ‘You are well rid of that way of life.’
    â€˜It will never change, you know.’ Carola spoke thoughtfully. ‘It is woven into the very fabric of the plantations themselves. And my father always said that freedom can be very over-rated.’ She gave a short laugh. ‘Most of us have little idea how to use it when we have it.’
    â€˜The people working in these fields would perhaps say they can at least keep the product of their labours. Or at least the proceeds from the sale of it.’
    Carola sighed. ‘It is not a debate I am eager to engage in. We are both imbued with ideas gained in infancy and therefore deep in our bones. Tell me more about your sisters, instead. I forget the name of the littlest one.’
    â€˜Nam, we call her. She is officially Naomi. My father was tired of daughters by the time she arrived, and so he has always treated her more as a boy. She is slim and agile as a monkey. She makes friends easily.’ Fanny paused, unable to provide any further detail. ‘The dog Melchior mistakenly bit her hand, one time. I told you about Melchior, I think.’
    â€˜You did. And the others? Lizzie and Charity. And your brother? Tell me everything. We have several hours yet to travel.’
    â€˜The horse will need to rest soon. We might think of stopping at that copse up ahead.’
    â€˜Fanny Collins, I believe you have forgotten everything about your family. Why else so loathe to inform me of their characters?’
    â€˜I am not loath. Nor have I forgotten. But it is a close to a year since I saw them. Most likely much has changed in that time. Besides, you met them more than once yourself. Why ask me so intently, when you must recall Reuben and Lizzie well enough?’
    â€˜I seldom exchanged more than a word or two with them. I know little of their natures.’
    Fanny examined her inner workings, wondering whether Carola might have good reason to draw remembered details from her. The truth appeared to be that she had no desire to contemplate her relatives in advance of meeting them again. It brought about a tightness in her chest, which was akin to apprehension. Whether or not they had changed,
she
undoubtedly had. Could Carola perhaps see that for herself and understand the consequences?
    They drew up on the edge of the copse, and let the horse feed on the spring grass that was only just appearing. Their own nooning was brief and insubstantial. A slice or two of cold meat with bread and pickles, followed by beer, was enough to satisfy them for a while. ‘It puts me in mind of the Trail,’ said Fanny. ‘All the families had their own dutch oven, full of meat stew, dumplings and potatoes. It was the same, day after day. By the end, we were almost mad with the tedium of it.’
    â€˜Indeed, I remember it only too well,’ agreed Carola. ‘Meat cooked on an open fire, supplied by our hunter menfolk, killing buffalo and elk. Such romance!’
    Her ironic tone made Fanny laugh. ‘More often turkey and pigeon, or one of our own steers. Precious few of our men were capable of hunting. Most of them never fired a gun in their lives. There was one who killed his own boy when the firearm discharged by mistake.’
    The reminiscences continued, the girls exchanging anecdotes from their long trek. In neither case had there been any real disasters. A few old people had died. There were accidents that had almost always been the result of folly or ignorance. The food had become unbearably