The Caine Plantation: The Next Quilt is Red Read online

  The Caine Plantation

  The Next Quilt is Red

  A Tale of Treachery, Murder, and the Underground Railroad

  By Karine Green

  Copyright Karine Holly Green 2013

  Ebook Edition:

  ISBN-10: 0989059758

  ISBN-13: 978-0-9890597-4-9

  EBook Cover Art http://www.dreamstime.com/stock-photo-ghost-image14602750

  Copyright and Disclaimer

  THE CAINE PLANTATION: THE NEXT QUILT IS RED

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means without the written permission of Karine Green, except where permitted by law.

  This book is a work of fiction. Any similarities to real people, living or dead is a coincidence. This is a complete fabrication of the author's imagination, along with liberal use of literary license. The inspiration comes from a childhood fear of my grandmother’s attic, and has been embellished from there.

  Dedication:

  To those whose sacrifice cannot be measured.

  This is a fictional story that contains graphic crime scene descriptions and adult situations

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTs and author Notes

  I would like to welcome everyone to this work of fiction. It covers some deep historical aspects of a not-so-simple time in our history, but is not meant to be a historical book. This story is comprised of local legends, personal conversations, and family rumors of people I have met during the travels of my life. There is no historical research to support these local word of mouth stories and innuendos. They are simply the inspiration for the fictional tale.

  Not all of the people/legends are from the same town and state. It is not my intent to glamorize or villainize places or family names unjustly. This is a fantasy inspired by a maddening bit of research that I found about the quilt theory being bogus. It was the presentation of the research, not necessarily the truthfulness of it that I found objectionable (you’ll read my thoughts on the matter in some dialogue between Kathy and the Chief of Police.)

  The intent here is simply to entertain you with a place that has such a vast and enthralling history that it calls for stories to be written about it.

  Hopefully you will be inspired to learn more about some of the issues addressed in the story. If you would like to read some excellent views on the Underground Railroad and how it worked (for real and not through legend) this is the most interesting site I have found. http://historiccamdencounty.com/ccnews11.shtml There are of course other sites, but this one seemed to approach the issue from a firm standing in reality.

  The only real research is the Dred Scott Act, and the follow up Supreme Court Decision that ordered U.S. Marshalls to enforce it. http://www.thedredscottfoundation.org/thechronology.html This is a quick read. As with any fabricated story I have cherry picked only the bits related to move the story forward. It is not my intention to leave off any important facts in our Nation's history or show disrespect by not including pages and pages of Kathy's thoughts and notes on the Dred Scott Act. I write this paragraph because it was the first thing the initial editors and reviews mentioned.

  The rest of ‘the research’ used by Kathy is made up to support the fictional town and its fictional residents, including the Caine’s. Their name is chosen because it is a sugar cane plantation. I considered a recommended reading section, but honestly there are so many great websites and books out that I felt bad picking and choosing amongst them.

  I will type up an afterward to explain where and how I heard the rumor that was behind the inspiration for the monstrous behavior of Percy Caine (It is a law enforcement rumor that was passed around officer to officer. To explain it now would spoil half of the story.)

  Please enjoy this fictional tale of murder treachery and the Underground Railroad.

  Table of Contents

  Prologue: August 1846

  Dark Lady’s Message

  The Next Quilt is Red

  The Razor Whip

  The Bygone Secrets of the Caine Plantation

  Where is the Red Quilt

  Louise Caine-Mathews

  The Randy Bell Incident

  A Conspiracy of Opportunity

  The Dark Lady’s Warning

  For You on Your Special Day

  Sheriff Rainer’s Break in the Case

  The Angry One

  Epilogue

  Prologue

  The Caine Plantation: August 1846;

  Mary was still dressed in her Sunday best, a white rosebud dress, with her beloved Mistress' careworn petticoats under it. Under any other circumstance she knew she looked very pretty in it, but she had been chained to the whipping post in the stable last night. She had been every night since Mistress Marissa had died two weeks ago. The dress was no longer pretty, it was dirty and smelled.

  Last night had been different, Master's son, Percy had handled her even harsher than he ever had before. Her mind was still reeling from the severity of the beating; he had never been that cruel. He had taken the time to make sure she could not sit down. She had to stand all night, or hang by the iron collar around her neck. Her feet and legs had developed a severe ache in them. She had overheard Master William ask Percy if he had been able to purchase that horrible razor whip from Blanc. William's eyes were normally cold and hard, but there was now something in them that looked broken. Because of this, she was certain she was going to die today.

  Mary was all too familiar with the name Blanc. He was the owner of another nearby sugar cane plantation. He was almost as miserable to deal with as the Caine's were. Mary hated both of them; better yet, all of them. She had tried to do her best to keep her heart guarded from hatred, but it was a daily struggle that she was losing, especially now that her Mistress was gone.

  It was hot and steamy already. She looked around the stable. It was impeccably kept. The stalls and gear perfectly cared for. This was her little grandson's domain. He cared for the Caine's eight horses, although the stable would hold twelve. The empty stalls were used for guest's horses. He had let the horses out to pasture, except Percy's gray mare. Normally the stable doors were open, but today they were shut tight, locking her in.

  She reminded herself of her true name, the one she gave herself, Dark Lady. At first it had been a code name to help hide her identity off the Plantation, but the field hands had also started calling her Dark Lady. Not long after, everyone had taken to calling her Dark Lady for another reason. It was a coincidence that caused a terrible delay while she and Marissa waited to see if their cover had been blown. It wasn't, but just in case danger was getting close, they had started using different quilts to communicate with the Rainier and Blanc slaves in their network.

  Dark Lady was a more appropriate name for her than the one Master William forced on her. To be honest, she was the real lady in charge of this home. Not that anyone except Mistress would have ever admitted to it, especially once Mistress Marissa had decided to concentrate on all her extra-curricular activities. It was only fitting that her chosen name had the title 'Lady' in it.

  She had truly loved Marissa. Her grief at the loss of her only true friend was overwhelming. Somehow she had to make them pay for what they were doing, for what they had done. And not just for how they treated her, but Marissa as well. They had caused all this trouble. Their evil was so desperate that only the most severe punishment could possibly bring justice. She felt a bitterness rise in her that was so sinful she could feel it scarring the very essence of her soul.

  She tried to push the dark thoughts away from her, as she swayed back and forth, chanting the Lord's Prayer, but the clanking of her iron chains brought up a whole
new wave of feelings. Unforgiveness, bitterness, shame, guilt, and loathing, began to overwhelm her, and that was before the physical pain could even be felt. All the negative emotion that a human being could experience seemed to be taking over her body. They had taken too much, crossed too many lines. Hatred filled her, and there was nothing she could do to stop it.

  It was not right that she had been subjected to so much pain and anguish in this life. The white-folks believed things about her, and there was nothing she could say or do to make them understand what had actually happened. It was all so unjust. In fact, everything in her life had been unjust, starting with being abducted from her village in Africa when she was just ten. She thought she had been lucky to survive the voyage here, but she now questioned that, perhaps she had actually been one of the unlucky ones who lived.

  Her thoughts shifted as Master William and his son, Percy, entered the stable. She knew it was them because the gray horse whinnied at Percy's appearance. The mare always did when he entered. Dark Lady assumed the beast could sense evil, and was crying for the loss of the good soul that had once inhabited her Mistress' happy little boy. Percy had become more and more deviant as he had grown. He was so full of spite that Dark Lady would not have recognized him as Marissa's son at all, if she had not watched him grow up with her own eyes.

  Her little grandson, Stable Boy, was hiding amongst the hay bales in the upper loft. She hoped he would stay up there, out of the way of whatever was about to happen. She had tried to order him to go to her sister's cabin, but he wouldn't leave her. She understood his loyalty, he was more like her son than a grandson, because his mother had passed on when he was born, and his father had died later the same year of influenza. It grieved her that he was disobeying her now. He did not need to be here to be subjected to this. The thought of how it would affect him over the long term cut even deeper into her soul.

  Last night she had intended to have one of the field hands take Stable Boy to her sister, and then force him to stay there. She never got the chance to leave the house, or even get a message to one of them. Before she even realized it, she found that a lone tear had escaped her eye. It galled her to have the tear escape in front of that evil bastard, and his demon seed.

  Another sign that they intended to kill her was that none of the other slaves had been called to witness the whipping. There was no spectacle being made, meaning; William was at a loss for words. He was out of self-control. With no one around, he could engage in his carnage without the threat of a slave uprising. Why hadn't she seen this coming, and taken Stable Boy to safety earlier? Why did she so foolishly think that they had some sort of loyalty toward her for all the hard work she had done for them over the years. Sadly, it had only been Marissa who had ever shown her any sort of genuine friendship over the years.

  William Caine wrung his hands around the handle of his whip. This one was unlike any of others he owned. It was a cat-o-nine tails with sharpened arrowheads attached at the end of each tail that was branching off the whip. He had bought the whip special just for this occasion.

  "Surh, I's would never hurt hur," Dark Lady said, trying to sound as slavish as she could. Marissa had taught her better, but right now, she would beg if she had to. If nothing else, to stop Stable Boy from seeing what she was sure was about to happen.

  "Really?" William said, allowing the words to droll out of his mouth. She was surprised at the sound of his voice, he didn't sound like himself at all.

  Dark Lady could hear the leather of the whip as he was wringing it in his hands. She knew it was a quiet sound, but right now it sounded so loud. She knew if she lived through this, she would never be able to hear leather against leather again without thinking of that whip.

  His son Percy, started giggling like the idiot he was. Oh how she hated him! Why couldn't he have died of the flu like her son had? Or better yet, she could imagine one of his criminal cohorts could have killed him, leaving his carcass for those hellish bayou beasts to eat. How could her kind Mistress have raised such a monster? If she hadn't personally been present at Percy's birth, she would have doubted that he was from her loins at all.

  She drew in what she was sure would be her last easy breath. She wanted to yell at him to get it over with. The only thing that stopped her was the uncertainty she still had about the death of her Mistress. Had she accidentally killed Marissa? Percy had told her that she had poisoned Mistress with bad food. She didn't think so. She was an expert in the kitchen. She knew that people came from miles away to eat her food off of the Caine's dinner table. Who knew how many business opportunities she had opened for them by satisfying the hunger pains of the Caine's rich and powerful guests? Never, in all her days had her cooking caused anyone to walk away from her table sick, let alone become deathly ill.

  She was sure it was a lie, it had to be. And if it was true, why couldn't it have been Percy who had died? For that matter, if the food was bad, why didn't more people die, or at least get sick? It was true, it had been an individual meal for Marissa, but the white folks were fools if they thought the kitchen slaves didn't eat the same food. They were slaves, but they were not stupid, and certainly not hungry.

  May their business be cursed for how they treated their wife and mother, after all, she had been beaten no differently than the slaves had been. The only difference had been that William had used his fists, and not a whip. Only once during her time at the plantation, had she begged for him to stop beating his wife. Instead he had whipped Dark Lady for intervening, and then had mercilessly beaten her with the butt of his pistol. She had a permanent gouge on the top of her head to show for it-as well as two deep scars on her shoulder from the incident. Nine months after that horrifying night, her own son had been born.

  William pulled a William Shakespeare; Primary Reader for School Children out of his coat pocket, and tossed the book on the ground in front of her.

  "Mary, I think you can talk like the education I know you have. That is what you meant by the fact that my wife was good to you, isn't it? Oh yes...I know it all. I know that she taught you how to read, how to speak, how to carry yourself. It was you who corrupted my sweet, kind wife in every way possible. You are the one who convinced her to go against her own interest. You had her violate the law by teaching you to read, and I am sure do accounting for the plantation books. And you repay her by killing her with sickness, and treachery." His voice was uncharacteristically calm and smooth. Normally, he was a yeller and screamer when he was angry. In fact, she was sure when he was riled up, the Blanc's could probably hear him, some twenty miles away, but right now he used the same tone of voice he might use to discuss something that bored him.

  Dark Lady glared at him, "I did not kill Marissa! She was my only hope. Please, understand. It doesn't make sense that I would harm one hair on her head!" She was quite certain there would be no escape from this. She had a bungling idiot for a master, who had an even bigger, bungling idiot for a son, and that was that.

  William smirked, "You ran your runaways through my property, using my poor, frail wife as cover for your operation."

  "No," Dark Lady shook her head. "That's no' true." She would not confirm to either of them that it had been Mistress. It would put a quick stop to the other white folks from being able to work the network that was already in place. Her dying words had to be denial of the plantation's railroad, as some had taken to calling it, to freedom. She knew someone would take over for her when she was gone. Someone would continue the work of freeing her people. In fact, there would be a lot of people stepping up, as long as they knew they weren't exposed by Dark Lady. The network must be kept whole, the tracks for the train were laid and she would not be the one who pulled them up. She would willingly, no happily burn in Hell first.

  "Oh , I am afraid, it is very true. You ran this operation through here with the precision of an espionage agency. However, I can say that Percy here appreciates your contribution to the Caine fortune. You see, once I cracked your code, you lost control of
your operation. The most amusing part is that you didn't even know it. He was stealing them from other plantations to help supplement another little side business. You made it so easy, it was almost ridiculous." Again, his voice had that same frightening, dead calm to it.

  Percy cackled out, his stupid giggle, and in a mocking tone, said, "Well, it would appear that the Dark Lady is well in control of embracing the security of her post." He leaned in close to her. "I want you to know I have special plans for your runaway friends. They will never see what you promised them." He licked her ear, and giggled again as he backed off.

  Dark Lady started to say something, but the sharp edges of the whip came down hard on her back. She had been steadfast in her mind not to scream, but the level of pain both psychologically and physically was so unexpected that the scream defied her will and escaped on its own. Through the pain the thoughts ate away at what little strength remained. What had she done to her people? What was Percy going to do to them?

  She could hear Stable Boy crying. He ran out and picked up the Shakespeare Reader.

  "No, Stable, go back! Find your auntie, and stay with her," Dark Lady whimpered, trying but failing to keep a steady voice.

  "Back, Boy!" Percy smacked Stable Boy hard with the back-end of his horse whip, striking him smartly across the face. The blow caught him off guard and he fell back so hard that his feet were lifted clean off the ground. The side of his head hit hard on one of the step stools near Percy's mare. He lay there limp with his eyes staring coldly at Dark Lady. His death had been instantaneous.

  "This Dark Lady will curse you and your property until justice is done...For everyone! I will...scream...at...you and yours forever!" Dark Lady breathed out each word in-between the vicious impact of the lashes. Eventually she passed out, never regaining consciousness in this world. Her final plea to God was that the truth would someday be known.