Chapter One
Let men tremble to win the hand of woman, Unless they win along with it the utmost Passion of her heart.
—Nathaniel Hawthorne
Florida…1851
The magnolia trees were abloom.
White herons and pelicans shadowed the bright blue sky as they soared from one tree to another.
Spanish moss, resembling fancy lace, festooned the cypress forest and nearby swamp, cloaking the trees. Lavinia Price stood outside her huge, pillared white mansion in her flower garden. She was delicately formed, with golden hair and violet eyes, her white skin slightly freckled from the sun.
Although her flower garden was already vast and colorful, Lavinia was on her knees, planting new seeds, which would one day grow into more beautiful flowers.
Tired, her face flushed from the late-morning heat, she rose slowly to her feet.
She removed her straw hat and fanned her face with it. She groaned when she looked down and saw the dirt smudges on the skirt of her dress. The morning had been so beautiful, without a cloud in the sky, and she had been so anxious to get outside to work in her garden, she hadn’t changed from her pretty dress into one of those she usually wore to garden.
Now dirt was smeared across the front of the full-skirted pink dress with the delicate white flowers embroidered on it.
She swatted at the worst smudges with her hand but only succeeded in spraying dust up into her nose, making her sneeze fitfully.
When the sneezing finally subsided, she caught sight of her eight-year-old daughter, Dorey, who was romping and playing with her best friend Twila, an eight-year-old African girl, the daughter of slaves at the Price Plantation.
Twenty-four years of age, Lavinia had been blessed with only one child, her sweet Dorey, but she still hoped for more children. Her daughter gave her so much joy and peace.
Lavinia smiled when Dorey squealed happily as she ran across the green yard. She and Twila were playing tag.
Lavinia always enjoyed seeing the girls together. She hated slavery with a passion and regretted that her husband kept slaves on the plantation he had recently purchased with his brother Hiram. Virgil was willing to free their slaves, but Hiram refused to allow it, saying they would never find anyone to work their tobacco fields.
Lavinia sighed heavily as she thought about how her husband and Hiram, his older brother by oneyear, didn’t approve of Dorey’s association with Twila and the other slave children.
But when both men were away, Lavinia gave her daughter permission to play with whomever she pleased. Lavinia had even bought the same dolls for Dorey and Twila last Christmas.
It had warmed her heart to see them playing with their toys together when her husband and his brother were away on business, as they were today.
She turned and looked at the Bone River, which ran alongside the vast plantation. Sunlight poured over the green and brown expanse of saw grass and water, shining and slow-moving.
Not far downriver the Everglades began. There, huge swamps were connected by a maze of narrow waterways, and the few small islands of dark trees were inhabited by poisonous snakes.
It was certain that when Lavinia went canoeing, eager to explore her new home, she avoided those more dangerous places deep in the swamp.
Instead, she went downriver only a short distance, enjoying the exotic sight of blossoming flowers, as well as forests with an endless variety of green foliage and cool shadows, where the trees were hung beautifully with Spanish moss.
Lavinia had taught Dorey to be alert to danger when in the swamps, and she now trusted her daughter to know which places to avoid. Recently she had begun allowing Dorey to make short trips in the canoe by herself.
But Lavinia would feel much better if her daughter didn’t have such a love of adventure and exploring. She was afraid that one day she might regret having given her daughter such freedom.
But Lavinia had always been the adventurous sort herself, and had vowed long ago that she would not stifle that part of her daughter’s character. Lavinia believed she would not have grown up to be as strong an individual as she was had her parents not allowed her such freedom.
Having rested enough, Lavinia started to put her hat back on, but as she turned, she was startled by something in a massive live oak tree that stood near the house with lovely Spanish moss hanging from its limbs.
She paled and clutched her throat, dropping her hat as she found herself gazing directly into the green eyes of a snow-white panther. It was resting on a thick limb, halfway up the tree.
It didn’t seem at all threatened by her presence nearby. On the contrary, it continued to sit there calmly, its beautiful white coat contrasting dramatically with the dark green leaves of the tree.
Lavinia had heard about a lone white panther that stalked the Everglades, but never had she seen the creature.
Then she blinked her eyes and saw something equally startling in that same tree, on that exact spot where she had seen the panther only seconds ago.
Was it true?
Was it real?
Was she now seeing a magnificently handsome Indian resting there instead of the panther, his greeneyes gazing back at Lavinia with the same interest as she felt seeing him?
He had long, flowing black hair, and his muscles bulged under his deerskin breeches and a tunic which looked as though it were made from Spanish moss.
His face was strong, with a dignified aquiline nose, and if he were standing on the ground, she knew he would be tall.
Her wonder at what she had just experienced was cast aside when she heard Hiram, her brother-in-law, frantically shouting her name.
She turned quickly and everything within her went cold when she saw Hiram running toward her. Her husband Virgil lay limp in his brother’s arms, with an arrow protruding from his chest.
When Hiram shouted that Virgil was dead, it was too much for Lavinia. Her knees buckled and she fell to the ground in a dead faint.
As small, round-faced Twila stood quietly by, Dorey ran to her father and stopped, staring at his lifeless form.