Tanahill Story (eBook)

The Carolina Years

Robert S. Lott (Autor)

eBook Download: EPUB

2018 | 1. Auflage
506 Seiten
Bookbaby (Verlag)
978-1-5439-2363-6 (ISBN)

Infos

The story is about a young man from North Carolina that falls in love with the daughter of the richest planter in all of South Carolina. The young woman falls in love with the young man and her family uses all of their monetary and political influence to stop them from getting married.

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Sam Tanahill, a wagon driver from the hills of North Carolina, has his mind set on moving West, and nothing will keep him from reaching his dream. Nothing, that is, until he falls for the daughter of the richest and most powerful planter in all South Carolina. With her family set on destroying any chance they have of being together, their fight for love becomes an epic romantic tale of intrigue, deceit, and murder. Set in the pre-Civil War South, the Tanahill Story and it's incredible cast of characters will delight you with twists and turns leading to an ending you won't see coming.

Textauszug

CHAPTER ONE

Sam Tanahill felt complete dread the moment he’d accepted Spence Rayburn’s invitation to the Meyers’ cotillion. His loaned suit of clothes, despite their perfect fit, does nothing to ease the displeasure he feels about the whole ridiculous affair. Sam has no ambition of becoming a southern gentleman and refuses to hold with slavery or any of its trappings. Nonetheless, growing up in the Carolinas has left him with one of two positions on the issue—agree with the practice of one man owning another or remain silent. Neither option sets well with Sam, but out of respect for his father, Owen Tanahill, Sam holds his tongue pretty well on most days.

Owen Tanahill hauls freight and sells horses and mules to most of the plantations in the Carolinas, a business that provides a decent living for Owen and Sam both. In fact, Sam fell into his current situation because he’d delivered a blooded racehorse to Spence Rayburn, one of his father’s customers. Upon seeing the powerfully built bay stallion, Spence couldn’t quit thanking Sam and insisted he stay and attend the Meyers’ cotillion with his family.

Taking a deep breath, Sam tries to enjoy the carriage ride and the cool spring morning as he and the Rayburns set off for the Meyers’ plantation. The matching set of gray horses is in an easy trot, causing a silent trance to fall over all aboard. Sam is grateful for the silence, having been thoroughly questioned by Bess, Spence’s matchmaking wife, on a range of topics including the one of most interest to her—Sam’s marital status. The Rayburn’s two somewhat plain and overweight daughters, Newella, twenty, and Sistell, eighteen, are always at the front of Bess’s mind. Their lack of suitors has become an embarrassment and something Bess has vowed to remedy.

Sitting across from Sam, the Rayburn girls peer over their fans, taking stock of everything from his collar-length black hair and dark-tanned skin, to his tall, lanky frame. Their roving eyes miss nothing and lend to Sam’s discomfort. He glances over at Spence who in his fat, jovial way seems to be disconnected from everything except the oversized cigar he is chewing and smoking.

The driver slows the team as he turns onto a red cobblestone drive, passing under a massive wrought iron arch that reads, “Shannon Hill.”

Spence points with his silver-knobbed cane. “Ever been here, Mr. Tanahill?”

“Yes, sir, but only hauling freight from the warehouses out on Slick Fork Creek.”

“The Meyers family owns more coloreds than you can count and more land than that,” Spence continues. “Some say the real decisions in South Carolina politics are made over whiskey and cigars right here on the verandas at Shannon Hill.”

Bess smiles a little at Spence’s statement and says, “I never knew Mrs. Meyers to smoke or partake.”

Spence chuckles a fat man’s laugh. “No doubt, Jessica Meyers does have an influence, my dear.”

The red cobblestone driveway winds off through a small stand of densely overgrown hickory and magnolia trees then straightens out into a wide, tree-lined lane. The fresh plowed fields on either side of the road stretch further than the eyes can see. Sam scans the distant horizon and daydreams. The one thing the planters have that he envies with all his heart is land. Sam longs for the day when he has saved enough money to go west, where there’s still land—land that hasn’t felt the iron shank of a plow or the sharp tooth of a saw.

Removing the cigar from the creased corner of his mouth, Spence spits over the side of the polished carriage. “Mr. Tanahill?”

The giggling of the women brings Sam back to the present.

“Sir?” Sam replies, embarrassed.

Spence waves his cane in a wide ark. “We have arrived.”

Sam surveys his surroundings as he stands to get out of the carriage. The Meyers’ mansion stands on a gentle rise of ground surrounded by ancient live oaks and exquisite gardens. The trees’ huge limbs are laden with long beards of Spanish moss that nearly touch the perfectly manicured lawn. The mansion’s tall, white columns and wide verandas are social copies of European architecture and unspoken statements of wealth.

The red brick horse barn beyond the trees catches Sam’s attention. Picketed around the barn are thirty or so of the finest matched carriage teams in all of South Carolina. Sam’s father, Owen, has sold many of these very horses to the planters who own them.

Sam feels Spence give him an irritating tap on the leg with his cane, urging him to hurry. An old slave, neatly dressed in a black suit with tails and white gloves, is holding open the carriage door. Sam steps down easily and turns back to the carriage.

“Ladies.” Extending his hand, Sam helps each one down from the carriage.

Mrs. Rayburn and the girls move to one side, straightening their gloves and wide-brimmed sun hats as they step down from the carriage. Nodding to Sam, Spence pauses beside Bess and extends his arm. She slides her white-gloved hand through the crook of his arm and smiles.

Bess turns to her daughters and says, “Remember, stay where you can be seen. And Mr. Tanahill, you are not going to the gallows. This is a party; you may smile.”

Sam smiles. “Yes ma’am.”

“Your mother should be proud of you sir. You are quite the gentleman.”

“Thank you, ma’am. I’m sure she’d be glad to know that.”

“Well then, Mr. Rayburn, shall we?”

Mrs. Rayburn’s unexpected compliment makes it a little easier for Sam to climb the winding, red brick steps to the massive front doors of the mansion. With every step though, the lump in Sam’s throat swells like rawhide. If he can just get by the introductions at the front door, perhaps he can find that place where Mrs. Rayburn didn’t want her daughters standing.

The tall, lace-curtained windows of the mansion stand open allowing the breeze to carry the sounds of a lively party. The Rayburn girls giggle and whisper with their heads together as though they are children with a secret. As they reach the front door, Mrs. Rayburn clears her throat. Spence drops the cigar in a spittoon on the porch, removes his white straw hat, and the girls fall in line like little chicks behind an old hen.

The brassbound Mahogany door glides open to reveal a sight far-removed from Sam’s social experiences of church picnics and barn dances. The smell of money and power drifts across the room. Even a young muleskinner from the hills of North Carolina knows when he’s looking at a fixed game.

A broad-shouldered, red-complexioned slave holds the door open, his eyes cast down.

Sam speaks to the doorman, “Sorrel.”

Sorrel speaks without looking up, “Mister Tanahill.”

Sam senses the tension in Sorrel’s voice.

Spence, under his breath, asks as they walk in, “And how do you know that red nigga?”

“He’s the gang boss out at the warehouses. Loads my wagons.”

The Meyers leave their guests and meet the Rayburns at the foyer.

The Rayburns are handing their gloves, hats, and Spence’s cane to an elderly black maid as the Meyers walk up. The maid steps back and remains standing in the foyer with her eyes cast down.

Jessica Meyers speaks in a dismissive tone. “That’s all Hattie.”

“Yes ma’am.“ Hattie turns and walks into the coatroom.

Sam holds his focus to the business at hand as he stands back a little, listening to the greetings between the Rayburns and their hosts, Jessica and Cordell Meyers. He can feel the inquiring looks, not only from the Meyers, but the guests at the party also. Sam’s curiosity about the rich planters that he hauls freight for pales in comparison to their curiosity about him. But his father’s voice rings clear in his mind. “Stepping back from a decision is like crowding a mule, son. It’ll get you kicked every time.” Sam decides he will not be kicked this evening as he confidently takes stock of the Meyers.

For a woman past forty, the stories of Jessica Meyers’ beauty have not done her justice. Her flawless, bone-white complexion, set out by a mane of sandy blonde ringlets, lends to the hypnotic vision she creates. Her voice, ever so proper as required by southern breeding, lulls Sam into feeling he is welcomed. Her angelic vision, however, takes a darker turn when he looks into her steel gray eyes. The look of determination and power in her eyes cannot be mistaken. The daughter of a poverty-stricken aristocratic family in Charleston, South Carolina, Jessica Meyers vowed early in life to change her station. Standing at her husband’s right hand, she is anything but a supporting character.

Cordell‘s family has two hundred years of American soil on their boots. The legacy of each generation of Meyers men has been to leave more than was left to them, and Cordell has certainly done more than his share. Cordell has acquired more before the age of fifty than all the Meyers men before him; but then again, they weren’t married to the socially driven, Mrs. Meyers. From his plantation to his import-export business, the Meyers’ holdings stretch from Charleston to New...

Produkt-Details

• Erscheint lt. Verlag: 16.1.2018
• Sprache: englisch
• Themenwelt: Literatur ► Lyrik / Dramatik ► Dramatik / Theater
• ISBN-10: 1-5439-2363-1 / 1543923631
• ISBN-13: 978-1-5439-2363-6 / 9781543923636