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approached him, her
thoughts evaporating like so much dust. 
Smiling broadly, he tipped his ragged hat and revealed a balding head.
     
    Underground Captive                                                                                                                               15
     
                       " Monsieur Williams," Nicki drawled, smiling back, reining in Nur next to Floyd Williams's horse.  Her PaPa had hired Williams right before she'd left for New York.  He was a tall, clumsy looking man with arms that seemed too long for his body.
                       "How's our new driver working out?" She wanted to make sure the drivers and the overseers knew Charles wasn't alone in monitoring their treatment of the slaves.
    "Far as I know, he's doin' fairly well.  Your pa let the other one go.  Mister Duplantier thought the former driver was a no-account low-life for abusin' those nigras.  But the fella hadn't done it for nothin'."              
    Nicollette raised a quizzical brow to him.
    Again Williams shrugged.  "Honest truth."
                       "I would expect no less from any of my father's people," Nicki said frostily.
                       Williams held up a hand in defense.  "Ma'am, I meant no disrespect."
    Nicki inclined her head, suspecting if Williams thought he wouldn't be found out, he would also take a whip to the slaves.  Just as she wouldn’t allow anyone to abuse her animals, she wouldn't allow anyone to abuse her slaves.  "Continue the good work."  She made a mental note that she needed to discuss Williams with her father.  "Be sure to keep an eye on our new driver.  I will also, as I know my father will.  We don't want our people abused."
                       Williams smiled evilly, his slit-for-eyes gleaming.  "Sure thing, ma'am."
     
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                       "Good day, Monsieur Williams."  Nicki nudged Nur's flanks as Williams tipped his hat once again.
    Nicki guided her horse in the direction of the slave quarters.  She reached the cabins and tethered him to the porch railing.  She strolled down the middle of the dusty strip of road, passing row after row of slave cabins.  Weary old slaves sat on their porches; some slept; others hummed.  Some engaged in quiet conversation with one another.  And still others kept a watchful eye on young children.
                       When she married and went to her future husband's home, Nicki hoped the gentleman would adopt Crescent Wood's policy of letting the very old or very young idle the day away.
    "Mornin', mam'zelle," a familiar voice called to her. 
    Nicki stopped in front of the cabin where the call came from.  "Odessa! What are you doing here?  Why aren’t you at the house in New Orleans?"
                       "Masta Charles sent for me last night because Betsy was having a time with her birthing."
    Nicki bit her lower lip.  "Are she and the babe all right?"
    "Yes, they's both fine, them," Odessa said with assurance.  "I give Betsy a potion for the pain, me.  She been sleeping since the bebe got here, her."
                  "What is it?"
                       "It's a li'l gal, her.  Mam'zelle, come inside.  We keep quiet 'cause we don't want to wake Betsy, us."
     
    Underground Captive