She was deemed unfit for marriage – so her father gave her in marriage to the strongest slave.
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“What I didn’t know, what no one could have predicted, was that this desperate solution would become the greatest love story of my life. Let me first tell you about Josiah. He was called a brute. Six feet ten, if that’s short. One hundred and thirty-six kilos of pure muscle, the fruit of years spent at the forge. Hands capable of bending iron bars. A face that made even the hardest men recoil as soon as he entered a room. He inspired terror.”
Slaves and free men alike, without exception, respected his distance. White visitors to our plantation stared at him and murmured, « Did you see the size of that one? » Whitmore had forged a monster. But here’s what no one knew. You need protection. When I die, this property will go to your cousin Robert.
He’ll sell everything, give you a pittance, and leave you dependent on distant relatives who don’t want you. « Then let me have the property, » I said, knowing it was impossible. « Virginia law doesn’t allow it. Women can’t inherit alone, especially not… » He gestured toward my wheelchair, unable to finish his sentence. « So, what do you advise? Josiah is the strongest man on the property. He’s intelligent. Yes, I know he reads in secret. Don’t pretend to be surprised. He’s healthy, capable, and, from what I’ve heard, kind despite his size. He won’t abandon you because he’s legally obligated to stay. He’ll protect you, provide for you, and take care of you. »
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The logic was terrifying and irrefutable. Have you asked him yet? Yes. Not yet. I wanted to talk to you about it first. And if I refuse, my father’s face will age ten years in an instant. Then I’ll keep looking for a white husband, and we’ll both know I won’t succeed.
And she’ll spend the rest of her life, after I die, in boarding school, cared for by parents who consider her a burden. He was right. I hated that he was right. Can I meet with him? Talk to him seriously before making this decision for both of us? He ducked, literally, to get through the doorway. My God, he was enormous! Six feet of muscle and sinew, shoulders that barely bulged above the frame, hands scarred by blacksmithing that looked like they could crush stone. « Brute » was a fitting description. He looked like he could tear the house down with his bare hands. But then my father spoke. « Josiah, this is my daughter, Ellaner. » Josiah’s gaze shifted to me.
Then they went back downstairs. “Yes, sir.” His voice was surprisingly soft, deep, yet calm, almost tender. “Ellaner, I explained the situation to Josiah. He understands that he will be responsible for your care.” My voice returned, though it was still trembling. “Josiah, do you understand what my father is proposing?” Another quick glance in my direction. “Yes, ma’am.”
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“I will be your husband, to protect you, to help you, and you have consented.” He seemed perplexed, as if the very idea that his consent could have any importance was foreign to him. The colonel said, “I should, miss, but do you truly desire it?” The question surprised him. His gaze met mine. Dark brown, surprisingly soft for such a formidable face. “I… I don’t know what I want, miss.”
I am a slave. My desires matter little. The frankness was brutal and fair. My father cleared his throat. Perhaps you should… Let’s talk in private, Miss. On the sofa, then. He sat carefully on the edge. Even seated, he was much taller than me. His hands rested on his knees, each finger like a small club, covered in scars and calluses.
« Are you afraid of me, miss? » « Should I be afraid? » « No, miss. » I would never hurt you. I swear. « People call you a brute. » He shuddered. « Yes, miss. » Because of my size. Because of my frightening appearance. But I’m not brutal. I’ve never hurt anyone. It wasn’t intentional.
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