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White Oaks                      

Chapter One 

Laura Cassidy's chestnut hair was flying behind her. Her gold bonnet trimmed with blue lace had come untied. She didn't care a fig about that. At the moment, her thoughts were on the freedom she felt atop her magnificent white stallion, Ghost. He was the most powerful she had ever ridden, and although, she was riding sidesaddle, and it was difficult to stay on with all the jumps he was making, she managed to stick to him like one her mother's gooey canning labels stuck to home jarred peaches.

Ghost had been presented to her by her father only two hours earlier for her seventeenth birthday and she loved him already. Her gold and green riding habit and her cumbersome pantaloons were heavy on her small frame, but she had secretly taken her petticoat off. Ooooh, she thought, if  my mother finds out she will give me at least an hour lecture on how young ladies should behave. 

In 1860 in Arkansas, for the women of financially well to do planters, there were many rules. Personally, Laura hated them. She sighed for a moment thinking how different life would have been if she had been born a man. Then realizing another jump across a ravine was coming up, she leaned into Ghost. As she tilted forward her bonnet slipped off her head and rather than it just sliding down to the ground it fell, billowing down  right into Ghost's eyes, startling him. 

Ghost, who was preparing to jump, came to such a sudden unexpected halt that it caused Laura to fly off him and land in a pathetic heap on the hard sun baked ground. 

She groaned as she tried to move. Her head had hit a hard rock and blood was oozing down the side of her temple. She groaned again, and then became so dizzy she passed out. Ghost nuzzled her futilely. He stood by her but soon spied a clump of still green grass, and meandered over for a bite. 

At White Oaks Plantation, Bill Cassidy glanced for the third time at the large grandfather clock in his study. Laura has been gone a long time, he thought. He was slightly worried as he had given his daughter a horse that he had only the owner's word that he was gentle enough for a good rider. 

Bill smiled. He knew his daughter was a capable rider, after all he had set her on his own horse when she was only four years old and he still could hear her gurgle of delight, as she demanded her own pony . He had gone out that very afternoon and bought her a darling pony whom she adored until at the age of seven, when at that time, she told him that the pony was fine, but she wanted a big horse.  At her request he had bought her a beautiful fourteen  hand high spirited Arabian mare. 

Only a few months ago she had asked for  a bigger more powerful horse. He had told her. "We will see."

It  was just yesterday when he had made arrangements for the purchase of Ghost, who was at least sixteen hands high and a beautiful white Quarter horse.  Bill had given her the gorgeous horse just a few hours ago. Now, she was out longer than usual.

A worried frown creased his forehead, then he brushed it off. Of course, she was out longer than usual. After all he had just given the horse to her. She would be taking him through all kinds of steps and testing his abilities. Then his thoughts ran to his wife, Lily. If Lily hasn't come in to voice her worries, then she was probably thinking the same as he. He smiled and turned his attention back to his book work. Cotton crops and profit. 

Lily was in scolding one of the newer house slaves as to what her position entailed. The young slave girl named Kenya, who had been thrilled to be brought to the big house, was apprehensive, if she couldn't please the mistress it would be back to the fields for her. Kenya, knew that being in the mansion meant easier work, more respect and it was a higher class slave that had such a privilege. 

"Yes'm, I do better, next time, surely I will, " she apologized. "I's smart, I will learn." 

Warning this book has some R rated  content.
 

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Teresa King is the mother of 3 sons, and a writer in Washington State. The characters in this book are purely fictional. The Historical Characters used in White Oaks  are referred to  keep the books and the character of the times. Not, fact. 

Email - Teresa King

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