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furniture or farm equipment.” Victoria nodded. “You really did listen.”
    “Now the famous John Brown, outspoken abolitionist, is my greatest hero. Do you know of him?”
    She chuckled softly. “I most certainly do. Tell me, what changed your mind?”
    “My closest friend on the plantation had long ago been the son of a tribal leader in Africa. Then he was captured by men from his own continent and sold in America. My father named him Daniel. A few years ago, Daniel described the conditions of his journey.”
    “I’ve heard a great deal about them. Horrible.”
    “Nearly half the passengers on Daniel’s ship died before they reached harbor. I always hated the thought of that, but I knew my father was different. I believed most of our neighbors were, too. I never saw brutality of the type I saw when I was in St. Louis. No one bought or sold slaves in any market near us. My father and our neighbors always traveled to purchase their slaves.”
    “What happened to Daniel?”
    “When I returned home ten years ago, he was gone.”
    She caught her breath. “He’d been sold.”
    “You must understand,” Joseph said, “my father was well respected in Georgia by a majority of the slave population because he treated his workers more kindly than most, gave them plenty of food, never broke up families—”
    “But he sold Daniel.”
    “Another plantation owner wanted him for a young woman who was healthy.”
    She scowled. “Brood stock.”
    “That was when it hit home for me. You won the argument, Victoria.”
    “I never set out to win anything.”
    He knew that. He always had, though during their worst arguments about slavery he’d accused her of gloating whenever she proved him wrong on a point. “You were the more mature one. For me, life was a competition.”
    She smiled, but it was a sad expression. “Was? Isn’t it still?”
    “The stakes have been raised, and I’ve changed sides.”
    “Then if ours was a competition, I’m glad I won. Still, I think our conflicts had less to do with maturity and more to do with our differences.” She leaned toward him slightly, enough to raise his hopes. Then she straightened. “I was passionate about slavery, and not much else at that time, if I remember correctly.”
    “I do believe you were passionate about one other thing.”
    She raised her eyebrows, held his gaze until it dawned on her. “Oh.” A pretty flush stained her cheeks. “Of course, I was young and considered myself to be in love.”
    “Considered?”
    “I’m afraid I behaved badly when I realized it was not to be.”
    He closed his eyes. Why did she have to say that? “It was my fault.”
    “Not entirely. Your father blamed you for purchasing your own ranch in a free state instead of carrying on the family tradition on the plantation with slaves.”
    “I should have left it at that, but I couldn’t bear the thought of my father dying while holding such a grudge against me. I had to ride to the rescue of my family, as if they couldn’t possibly make it on the plantation without my honored presence.”
    “Did your return heal old wounds?” she asked.
    “No, it only caused new rifts with those I loved.” He tried to catch her gaze, but she made it obvious that she didn’t want to return to their former subject.
    “Did all of your family reject you?” she asked.
    He appreciated the compassion in her voice, but he would have enjoyed more. “Only my father. I have a sister and several cousins who moved north. I was so angry about Daniel that my father finally realized I would never stay and run the plantation. He left it to my younger brother.” The sadness of that final break with his father lingered with Joseph all these years later.
    “And then you returned to St. Louis to find that Matthew and I had married.” There was a catch in Victoria’s voice, and Joseph saw the sorrow in her eyes. “Things don’t always turn out the way we want them to, do they?” she asked