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that had been given to her by Priscilla. “Thank you, ma’am.”
    As the carriage rolled along the lane toward the road, Evelyn and Martha chatted about the visit they were going to have with Catherine Johnson and her seventeen-year-old daughter, Angeline.
    Although Martha Colvin was not a Christian, she loved to spend time with Evelyn and Catherine. The ladies had caused her to think much about her need to know the Lord, but they spoke in a kind and tender manner, never trying to push salvation on her.
    The Moores had one heavy heartache in their lives—their twenty-two-year-old son, Lewis, who was not a Christian and was somewhat of a rebel. Talk in the community was that Lewis was living for the day when he would inherit the plantation and run it the way he wanted to. Lewis, Martha told herself, was much like her own husband and two sons. He thought slaves should be kept in fear by frequent beatings, whereas Charles Moore treated his slaves kindly.
    The carriage was turning onto the road when Evelyn said,“Earline, I haven’t told you this, but Martha and her husband are the most wealthy plantation owners in Charleston County. They are very successful in the cotton business.”
    “Now, Evelyn …” Martha said, shaking her head.
    “Well, it’s true. Earline, they have the largest plantation … eighty-five hundred acres, and they have the most slaves. How many now, Martha? Three hundred and fifty?”
    A bit embarrassed, Martha said, “No. Right now, we have three hundred and thirty-one.”
    Evelyn chuckled again. “So I missed it by a few.” Turning to her cousin, she said, “The second most wealthy plantation owners in the county are the Johnsons. Zack and Catherine have eight thousand acres and just under three hundred slaves. No other plantation owners in Charleston County can come close to their wealth.”
    “Well, now, Evelyn,” said Martha, “you and Charles aren’t doing so bad. After all, you haven’t been in the cotton plantation business near as long as the Colvins and the Johnsons. One day you will pass us up.”
    “I doubt that, Martha. Both Finn and Zack are hardworking men. They will continue to prosper.”
    Even as Evelyn spoke, Malcolm turned the carriage off the road and headed toward the Johnson mansion, which could barely be seen from the road. They found themselves driving through a canopy of trees laden with Spanish moss. The sun was lifting higher in the eastern sky, and they were beginning to feel its warmth and the humidity it emphasized.
    Soon the Johnson plantation came into view as they passed through a heavy stand of trees. The house stood on a small knoll, glistening white in the bright morning sun. Huge white columns supported the balcony off the second-floor rooms, and each sparkling window was open to catch what errant breeze might come along.
    Wide steps led to the wraparound porch adorned with colorful pots of budding flowers and green ferns. Comfortable padded chairs and white linen-covered tables extended their invitation to family and visitors to sit and rest a while.
    The grounds were manicured to a fair-thee-well and dotted here and there with magnificent rose gardens, lush shade trees, stone benches, and a pair of stone lions that guarded the wide porch at the base of the steps. Over all, the breath of spring was on the massive Johnson yard. It was a grand scene and a treat to the eye.
    When Malcolm drew the carriage to a halt in front of the porch steps, a male slave came through the ornate doors and descended the steps to help the ladies and Priscilla down. Dorena alighted without help.
    As they ascended the porch steps, the Johnsons’ youngest son, Alexander, came through the door. At sixteen, the youth was tall and handsome.
    Alexander greeted them with a smile. “Please come in, ladies. Big brother Dan took Mother and Angeline into town quite early this morning. I know they expected to be back before you arrived. I’m sure they will be here