Read The Soldier's Lady for Free Online Page A

this man could possibly have to do with the plantation called Rosewood and its assortment of blacks and whites may have been a mystery to some. But the fact was, there were more connections between the two plantations and its people than most people in the community had any idea.

    Why I would want to tell about this man, and even how I could, is a mite hard to explain. All I can say is that it wasn’t easy to find out some of the things that happened. I had to ask a lot of people a lot of questions, and some of what I found out I didn’t find out until a long time later.
    But concerning the why I need to tell about this man is because my own story is interwoven with his in so many ways I could not possibly explain them all.
    In fact, I grew up on the very plantation where he now sat thinking. Back when I was young, there were dozens of black slaves all about the place, including me and my family, and a house mammy called Josepha and a dim-witted black house girl a year older than me called Emma. Back then we were all slaves and this man’s father was the man we called Massa. And the Massa’s sons were mean and ornery and I’d felt the sting of their whips on my bareback more times than I can remember and have still got the scars to prove it.
    So when I say that this man’s story and my own were all tied up together, you can see what I mean. He was the kind of man a former slave never forgets.
    And he had a secret he didn’t want anyone to find out about. There were only a handful of people who knew his secret.
    I was one of them.

    When William McSimmons, Jr. walked into the Raleigh office of North Carolina congressman Robinson Galbreath, a brief thrill surged through him. This might be his office two years from now! He did his best, however, to hide his lustful glances at the well-appointed décor and what it represented. He needed this man’s help. It would not be wise to appear too eager.
    He greeted the congressman with a shake of the hand and took the chair that was offered him. The congressman glanced over the letter that had been lying on his desk when his guest arrived and which had prompted the meeting.
    â€œYour father says you are planning a congressional run for my seat,” said Galbreath. “And that you want my support.”
    â€œHe told me you were plainspoken,” smiled the younger McSimmons.
    â€œYou can’t succeed in politics any other way,” replied the congressman without returning the smile. He had seen no humor in it. “Try to hide something from the publicand they will always find you out in the end.”
    â€œI couldn’t agree more, sir,” said McSimmons. “To answer your question—yes, I am considering a run and would be most grateful for your support. When word reached us of your retirement after this term, I began to consider the possibility. My father thought I should talk to you.”
    â€œYour father and I are old friends. I owe him a great deal. So for his sake I will give the matter due consideration. What makes you feel you are the man to represent the people of North Carolina in Washington?”
    â€œI would hope, sir, that my age and vision for the future of the South could be seen as representing, as it were, the New South. My contacts with certain men of influence with capital to invest in our region will make for new opportunities for our people which I believe will enhance North Carolina’s growth.”
    â€œCarpetbaggers, you mean?”
    â€œI would prefer to think of them as men, like myself, looking realistically toward the future now that the war is behind us.”
    â€œAnd there’s nothing in your resume, no past indiscretions, no skeletons in any closets, that could come back to bite you? I don’t want my name mixed up in anything—”
    â€œI assure you, sir,” said McSimmons, “there is nothing I would not be willing to have completely known. I am happily