Free Flight of Fancy: Cora's Daughters by Mercedes Keyes Page A

that pot.” She said, “Need dumpin’.”
    “Get back on that bed, I’ah see to it.”
    Like a child, she scrambled back to the bed obediently.
    In that small room, he looked huge. He couldn’t stand his full height, he had to keep his head and neck bent. Once he made it to the edge of the mattress, he dropped to his knees and in his hand was a plate of food. A biscuit, a corn cob, a potato, dandelion greens and half of a rabbit, her mouth watered. “Get all of that eaten.” He softly instructed. She accepted it and went to eating with no hesitation. “Where we at?” She asked, her mouth full.
    “Farmhouse – under a hay barn – runaways come here and hide until the farmer takes’em the rest of the journey to a boat dock – the boat take’em up north – to be free.” He spoke gently, watching her eat - sitting with his legs crossed while she devoured all that was on the plate.
    “Where they at? That boy, his girl an' baby?”
    “On their way to being free.” He answered simply.
    He reached over to feel her forehead – she reared back, her eyes wide. “What’you doin’?” She asked, getting some of her old self back.
    “Checkin’ you – see if you okay.”
    “Jus’fine thank you.”
     

Broc exhaled, “So - you – are. Lord, you the stubbornness woman I ever met. How long is it gone be before you accept me?”
    “Em…” She grunted, and asked instead, “How long we been here?” She discarded his query about him.
    “Four days.” He answered simply.
    “Em – you didle me?”
    Broc’s head rolled back, and he barked with laughter. A moment later, after he calmed himself, he answered, “No ma’am, I have not didled you in the least. You have my word as a gentleman.”
    “Em hm, bet not, ain’t got no rights to. Naw, where m’clothes at?”
    “Got rid’of’em.”
    “What?!”
    “You heard – they gone.”
    “You… who tell you t’do that? I tell you? No! Why I’on like no man.” She fussed, “What I’m s’pose to wear now?”
    “Farmer’s wife got clothes for you - that cover you decent – the way a woman supposed to be covered.” He returned.
    “Cover me decent...” She repeated his words with disdain, “...can’t climb no trees in’em! Can’t run through no woods! Can’t get a good fight goin' in’em! Can’t swim – can’t ride! Don’ wan’em!”
    “I knew you was gonna say that. So I ask to have some of their boy’s clothes for you when we traveling.”
    “Ain’t wearin’ no boys clothes.”
    “Yes you are.”
    “No I ain’t.”
    “Yes you are!”
    “No – I – am – not…” she argued, “…now get me my clothes I make fo’myself!” She ordered him.
    “Asiza, you bein' downright ungrateful – you know that? All I've done for you. I've killed for you!”
    “I ask'yah? Huh? No, not one time. Where my clothes at?”
    Broc sat a moment watching her continue to eat. She ate while eyeballing him, of course waiting for an answer.
    She chewed, swallowed and, “Well?”
    “I cannot get you – what you don’t have anymore – you hear what I’m sayin’?”
     

She gave him the evil eye, wishing all kinds of curses on him.
    “Don’t care how you look at me, what’s done, is done.”
    “Can’t wait to be rid’o’you.” She mumbled.
    “You plannin’ on killing me?”
    “I should’ah… should’ah put a arrow right in yo’nekkid rump right at that lake.”
    A brow lifted, Broc smiled at her, gazing into alluring eyes – she was the kind of woman it was hard to take your eyes off of, especially with those eyes gazing back at you. “Ah, I knew it, how long you stay watchin' me?” He asked, grinning.
    When she realized what she said, her face set aflame and her nose went in the air, refusing to answer his question, she carried on eating.
    He decided to inform her, “Killin'me - that’s what it’s gone take Asiza – to get rid’o’me. Somebody, or you – gonna have to kill me. Until that day, I got my sights on