White Gate Heart

•Chapter Four•

I trudged to the stables, looking down at my filthy, soiled apron and work clothes. I then noticed a black and red carriage outside of the house. It must have arrived when I was running worried over to Jamie.

Suddenly, a man in a dignified coat and trousers emerged from the carriage. I noticed that some of the slaves had stopped to watch as well. Everybody seemed to mentally bow down to him, but I was oblivious as to whom this man was. Father would probably name me pathetic for not knowing.

This intriguing man turned his head, observing the milieu of our farm. He reminded me strongly of an owl, a wise one that believes he is a prized possession. His graying hair and wrinkled face showed he was stressed, very stressed.

Brows furrowed, he strutted towards the bottom of our portico. Looking down at the peeling paint of the steps, he shook his head in disgust. Mumbling under his breath, he stomped up the stairs and knocked lightly on our door. Once it opened, he slithered his way into our home without properly introducing himself to Abeline.

With a more than shocked look on her face, Abeline shut the door. The temptation of letting into my curiosities was hard to ignore. Remembering Father's stern instructions, I forgot about uncovering the identity of the stranger at our home. Instead, I slumped into the empty four-stall barn. Grasping the cool metal of the pitchfork, I shuffled over to the wheelbarrow propped against the wooden wall. As I set deep into cleaning Delilah's stall, I contemplated on preparing a stall for Jamie. I bit my lip. Would Father disapprove of allowing a troublesome horse into the stable? 

Overruling what Father might think, I quickly tidied up an empty stall within fifteen minutes. I blew a piece of stranded hair out of my eye and stepped back to admire my completed tasks. Smiling, I went to prop the pitchfork against the wall. Suddenly, the clamor coming from the barn's upper loft froze me in my easy movement, and made me paralyzed. Who would be laying by the barn's eaves at this hour? The servants were not permitted to rest in the barn, or even access the upper loft. 

If it was a servant, I needed to have the audacity to firmly tell them to get back to work. Although, I was never a good person to boss. Suppose it's one of my weaknesses in Father's eyes.

"P-pardon me, who is taking cover in the loft?" I stuttered, but said firmly in the end. To try and appear more in control, I crossed my arms across my breast.

There was more commotion, and I knew someone had to be up there. Or could it have been a bird that flew in? The only way to answer my questions was to climb the ladder to the loft and discover the noises my self.

Placing my hand on the ladder, I took a deep breathe, slightly fearing of what could be hiding itself up there.

Before I placed my foot on the ladder's step, I glanced up to have my eyes meet with the greenest of orbs I had viewed. The man's face was frightened, but softened at my appearance. He smiled brightly, and it upset me. This man thought I was some servant that he shan't be afraid of. How dare he! Although I work on the plantation, this does not mean that I don't have authority.  He shouldn't judge a woman's appearance.

"You.. must be Miss Wills!" he exclaimed with excitement. He paused with his sentence to glance at me head to toe. 

"I would beg your pardon?" I stated. This man knows of my maiden name, and I was dying to know how he did. Before answering, he ascended the creaking ladder. I took a quick step back, keeping a large distance between me and the strange man. I eyed the pitchfork propped against the wall, and began to regret not keeping it locked in my grip.

"Ah, of course. I should've introduced myself before I spoke to you," he laughed, trying to ease my nerves. I'm positive he saw my glance towards the pitchfork. 

"It's me, Mark Adams."