Southern Helle (An Interracial Romance Story)

Chapter 12

The carriage trotted through town. With every step the horse took, my fear became heightened. The carriage walked up this block, and people stopped and stared at me. Some people even laughed. I felt as if they were laughing at me for being so stupid, for believing that Master actually cared about me and wanted me to get better. 

One lady looked to her misbehaving son and said, “Danny at least you’re not one of those slaves. She’s probably going to be sold to some other plantation. She don’t even have a mother. Be grateful!” She berated. I hung my head low. I felt so ashamed. 

The sun rays burned my aching skin. I crawled into the corner of the pen closest to the carriage to get away from the sun

We rode for what felt like hours. We finally reached the town limits. There was a small little shop to the right of the halted carriage. I glanced around to see any commotion of a slave market. There were many tales that these things were loud and boisterous. There wasn’t any of that. 

I heard the man climb out of the carriage and come to look at me. His hat was pulled low over his eyes, and he had a large beard. He smiled and I cringed. 

“Nice little story I told the guard back there.” He said. I raised my eyebrows at him.

“Mr. Belle didn’t tell me to sell you.” He assured me. I let out a steady breath, but I knew this, whatever it was, wasn’t over. 

“Then why am I here?” I questioned. He took a ring of keys from out his pocket. He fished out one of the keys. I didn’t know how he could tell which one was which because they all looked the same.

“Mr. Belle wants to make sure your wounds healed by the hands of the best doctor in the South.” He admitted to me. 

“Why?” I asked. It seemed a bit odd, that he would send me out here to get better instead of just asking the doctor to come to the plantation. 

He shrugged his shoulders. He unlocked the cage and helped me climb out. He held out his hand, and I grabbed it so I could steady myself jumping down from such a height. Once I landed on my feet I dusted off my dress. I looked up at this man, and then I could finally see his eyes.  His blue eyes connected with mine. They were the same as August’s but he was God knows where so, I knew this couldn’t be him. 

I shook my head to eliminate all of my thoughts and then stuck my hands out for him to shackle my wrists. Instead, he walked towards the little shop. 

“You’re not going to lock my wrists?” I queried.

He turned slightly to me. “Nah, I mean where are you going to run to?” His arms stretched out to the space. “You don’t know you’re way back and in this town, they’ll kill you if they see you.” He waited. I guess he was waiting for me to run or something. I don’t know, but my feet were bolted to the ground. 

“That’s what I thought.” He started towards the shop again and I begrudgingly followed. He opened the door for me and I entered the shop. A little bell rang over my head. It seemed a lot smaller on the outside. A glass casing displaying different bottles stood between our side and the workers side. Off to the left was a door that leads to another room. A short, old man hobbled out the door with a cane to support his weight. 

The old man had a shiny, bald head, but bushy eyebrows. His brown eyes examined us.

“God afternoon, Mr. Morgan. How are things?” The guard asked the old man, like they were old friends. The guard took off his hat and laid it on the counter. His long black hair fell into place. Mr. Morgan dragged a stool in front of the guard and he plopped down on it. 

“I’m doing good, lad.” Mr. Morgan replied. His voice exposed the fact that he wasn’t from the south. He sounded like he was from the New York, Boston area.