CHAPTER ONE

Amanda MacCloud Jennings possessed a passion for the low country of southeastern Georgia, the fourth state of the very young United States and the land of her beloved home, Three Willows.

          While a child, Amanda was fascinated with the tall blades of marsh grasses that grew in and around the tea-colored water and the slender green and brown stalks waving to and fro in the wind. As squirrels scampered about on the vast limbs of the ancient Oak trees, the tangled strands of Spanish moss, hanging like straggly beards on gangly old men, mesmerized and mystified the young Amanda. But late spring and early summer were her favorite times of the year, the moments in time when heavy fragrances from small orange blossoms, large magnolias and the rambling honeysuckle draped some portion of the moist, warm air of Three Willows' nearly one thousand acres.

          Half a mile back from the main road, down a well-used, dusty lane lined on both sides with huge Water Oaks, set the Three Willows manor house. When approaching, either by carriage or horseback, the imposing columned structure seemed to mystically appear, suddenly bursting forth out of a grove of taller pecan trees in the back and shorter orange and lemon trees a little distance away on either side.

          Amanda's love was so great for Three Willows she never cared to go anywhere else. However, at the adamant behest of her parents, Bruce and Maida MacCloud, Amanda once traversed to Savannah for tutoring by a piano teacher who refused a move to Three Willows.

          Bruce, a native of Scotland and always the frugal Scot, was willing to part with a bit from his well guarded purse so his only child could have every advantage his money could afford. He and Amanda's mother felt their soon to be emerging young lady needed exposure to the fine arts and life in a thriving city.

          While in Savannah, amidst the hustle and bustle of commerce, their only child was restless, constantly yearning to return home. Amanda was not in the least bit impressed with the city's hectic lifestyle, the uppity city folks and their arrogant attitudes or the busy, crowded and foul smelling streets. On the one occasion when she accompanied her house hosts in covered carriage to the waterfront, she was aghast at the sight of street urchins entreating total strangers for a penny, boisterous fishwives, and brash men who appeared to be, in every form of the expression, the absolute dregs of society. In Amanda's mind, Savannah was a place where people existed, but did not truly live. Other than those miserable twelve months, Three Willows was the only home Amanda ever knew, and the only one she ever wanted to know.

          During her Savannah sojourn, the petite young woman did become an accomplished pianist, but that success seemed insignificant to the many things she missed about Three Willows. As her slender fingers deftly stretched over and about the ivory and ebony keys, her thoughts were miles away, daydreaming of the misty purple time at twilight, of that hour of the day when she loved sitting high up on the manor house front steps, looking out on the three willows down near the creek. It was from there, at dusk, the willows' trailing branches began their lazy dance with flickering fireflies; waltzing together to a compelling tune played by the crickets and frogs, music unlike anything a manmade instrument like a piano could exact. The precise hour she favored was when most of the work was finished, when almost all the house slaves were in their quarters and the field slaves were in their cabins. It was the part of the day when Amanda had time for herself, time for peaceful solitude and quiet reflection. Her father, when missing the Scottish highlands of his birth, often remarked, "Even a wee bit of the gloaming settles the soul," and she wholeheartedly agreed.

          For as long as Amanda could remember, the second of the sixteen front steps was her place, and the gloaming was her time of day to think, to reflect on the past days, think about the hours just lived, and wonder about the future. She freely admitted sitting on the front steps was not exactly the proper thing for a refined lady, but Amanda refused to yield totally to more than one of polite Southern society's practices.

          Feeling safe on the steps from wild things that might slither, crawl, pounce or bite, Amanda staunchly refused to forego her perch. It was her living window out onto the land she loved. When she was younger, she often giggled when she overheard older folks whispering, particularly prim and proper matrons of society, say "She's still young and somewhat unconventional in some of her thinking, but she shall eventually become a lady."

          By the time she was sent to Savannah, soft-spoken Amanda was scarcely five feet tall, not much taller than some of the Three Willows' children. The diminutive young woman did become a lady, but had a streak of stubborn Scottish temperament that emerged occasionally, causing her to be a bit more daring and strong-willed than other young women her age.

          As a small girl, her father often scolded her for being impetuous and hardheaded. Even a rather harsh admonishment failed to deter Amanda when her mind was set. Exasperated, her father usually ended any reprimand by saying, in his Scottish brogue, "Ye are a bonny and sassy lassie, my darlin' daughter. And ye know, ye often frustrate me to me very bones."

          Smiling, she would reply, "Father, I am your daughter. Stubborn Scottish blood courses through both our bodies."

          Her father would smile, wink and nod in agreement before saying, "'Tis true, my bonny lassie, ‘tis true. Ta gra agam ort, me darlin' daughter."

          Amanda always smiled in return, knowing he had just told her in a combination of Gaelic and English he loved her, despite her stubborn streak.

♥

          Summer arrived early in 1824. The sweltering heat paired with Amanda's pregnancy made ordinary tasks seem more difficult. With her husband, Garrett, away on business, all of the plantation business fell into Amanda's lap. Believing all things, both good and bad, worked together, she felt there was a positive aspect. In this instance, the positive aspect was allowing her to appreciate her moments of relaxation even more than usual. As she sat quietly on the steps, the young woman's mind overflowed with thoughts about her baby. She hugged her swollen belly, and wondered if it would be a boy or girl...if the birth would be on schedule...if having the baby would hurt as much as she'd been told...if it would look like her or Garrett, all manner of wonderings filled Amanda's mind.

          With just that one singular thought of her husband, her mind turned to further thoughts of the brilliant and handsome Garrett Jennings. Nearly fifteen years her senior, the polished and dashing Garrett swept her off her feet with a whirlwind courtship. Amanda felt an entirety of being with him she'd never before known. Except for traveling too frequently, her husband was everything of which she'd ever dared dream. Dark-haired Garrett was of medium height, well spoken and educated, originally from Washington City, the new seat of the federal government, and an established lawyer with clients throughout coastal Georgia and a small part of North Carolina. His traveling saddened Amanda. It seemed so much of the time, time and occurrences that she would have loved to share with Garrett, was spent apart.

          The memories of their wedding day were so clear it was never necessary for Amanda to close her green eyes to recall the outdoor ceremony two years earlier. Their nuptials had been the social event of the year. The guests, the finest gentry from as far away as Savannah, attended the gala affair. Every guest was decked out in his or her finery, looking handsome or beautiful, for the wedding of Amanda MacCloud to Garrett Jennings. But the petite bride was the most stunning of all. She had her mother's favorite and most expensive dress altered for her wedding dress. Amanda was radiant in the pale blue, tissue taffeta gown imported from France, but even more striking was the way brilliant southern sun reflected in her blonde hair, producing a glowing halo effect about her face and head.

          To perform the ceremony, Parson Smythe stood on the top step, the one right above where Amanda spent her gloaming hours. He was slightly elevated above the bride and groom who stood a couple of steps down. In her mind's eye over two years later, she could still see, and almost smell her bouquet of blood red roses gathered from the Three Willows rose garden, hear the strains of music from the violinists, and envision the hundred or so guests as they socialized on the lawn and in the house afterwards. She giggled aloud when recalling how all the guests returned over and over again to fill their glasses with rum punch. At the time, she had also giggled. The guests reminded her of ants busily stirring around a big bowl of honey or molasses. But, her two fondest memories were those of her father's kiss on the cheek when he gave her away and Garrett's proud and smiling face when the parson announced, "I now pronounce you husband and wife."

          Amanda's face beamed with her precious recollections. However, her sweet smile became a frown when her thoughts changed to wondering if Garrett would make it home in time for the birth of their first child. For two, very long months he had been away from Three Willows, taking care of legal work for Major Rivers, his most prestigious client. Amanda had never met the Major, but she knew he was extremely wealthy and politically powerful over much of southeast and the ever widening frontier. As lucrative as Garrett's association with Major Rivers might be, there was one drawback. The Major lived in a small town in the mountains of North Carolina. Always loathing when business took Garrett away, for some reason, Amanda missed him even more. She'd concluded it was the approaching birth of their first child.

          Bright and energetic, Amanda had assumed the responsibility for the household staff and social occasions after her mother, Maida MacCloud, suddenly passed away from a bout of influenza. Amanda, barely seventeen-years-old, had just recently returned to Three Willows after her stay in Savannah. It was not necessary for Bruce MacCloud to ask his only daughter for assistance; everything about Three Willows seemed to come second nature to Amanda. Even though she was devastated by her mother's untimely demise, the young woman rose to the occasion, attending to all social matters and the needs and duties of all the household staff. Boundlessly energetic, Amanda made everything she did appear easier than it actually was. She understood there was little time to mourn for loss of life at Three Willows. Living went forward, and always at a rapid pace.

          Several years after her mother's death, and only a mere year after her marriage to Garrett, her father's life was suddenly taken when his carriage overturned on a Savannah street. Grieving and wanting help, but more wanting for Garrett to continue with the law practice that he'd established a short while before they met, Amanda began managing every aspect of Three Willows' business.

          The closer it came to the birth date of her baby, the harder it was to keep up with the many responsibilities required to run a plantation the size of Three Willows. Keeping accurate records for all cash crops and track of everything bought, bartered or sold on the behalf of the plantation kept her active from dawn to dusk.

          The two most hectic times of year at Three Willows revolved around cotton, the planting, picking, ginning and sale of their most lucrative cash crop. The one and only part of her duties she abhorred, before and after her father's death, was dealing with Jack Mills, overseer of the field slaves.

          Garrett knew of her disdain for what Amanda referred to as a pathetic excuse for a man. So, when Garrett was at Three Willows, he took care of all the necessary exchanges with Jack Mills. Fortunately, Garrett was at home in March, the most recent planting time. However, the prior harvest time was different. November, a time when Amanda had to keep meticulous records of how much cotton was picked by which slave, how much was ginned on which day and the eventual sale of the cotton bales, was a different story. Garrett was away, and not at Three Willows to intervene on her behalf. When he returned, she pleaded with him to fire Jack, but her husband refused. He said, "My darling wife, it would be most difficult to replace an overseer during harvest time, but I shall consider your request after the spring planting." Garrett was the head of their household, the only one to hire or fire, so she left it alone, but was determined to bring the matter up again when he returned from North Carolina.

          Buying yard goods and seeing to the weaving of Negro cloth, a rather rough, but durable, homespun fabric, was done correctly, and then overseeing that all the fabric was sewn into the summer and winter clothing allotment consumed a lot of Amanda's time after harvest. Amanda, and her mother before her, took these tasks seriously, more seriously than majority of their neighbors. Nearby plantations didn't provide nearly as well for their slaves as did Three Willows. From all appearances, the surrounding plantation owners, although stingy with clothes for field hands, were fairly generous with clothing for their house servants. Amanda knew the reason: the Negroes who directly served the family were seen when affluent guests paid calls.

          Amanda felt it indecent and inhumane when, as a small child, she saw how a few of the neighbor plantation owners treated their slaves. "Sometimes, those Negroes wore little or nothing," she recalled telling Garrett, who was unfamiliar with plantation life when they first married. "Some planters seem to feel generous if they furnish their male field slaves with only one coarse linen shirt, one pair of trousers and one pair of shoes to last for an entire year." With a glare of rebelliousness in her eyes, she added, "Their neglect is merely to increase their profit margin. The milk of human kindness is reduced to nothing more than the jingle of silver and gold." Although against custom, and sometimes against the law, the strong willed Amanda followed her conscience instead of society's general attitude regarding slaves. Nothing and no one deterred Amanda when her mind was set.

At Three Willows, each male field hand was provided two cotton shirts, two pairs of trousers, one of coarse linen for summer and one of Negro cloth for winter, one jacket, one pair of shoes, three pairs of socks and one pair of shoes.. At neighboring plantations, if something wore out, they were just out of luck, but Amanda made sure replacements were provided. Amanda also cared for the women field slaves equally well. At Three Willows, the females received an equivalent amount of clothing to the male allotment. Amanda was fond of children, all children. She made certain the small slave children at Three Willows didn't go naked as they often did at the other plantations, where they frequently wore nothing or just rags from a parent's worn out shirt until they could work to earn their clothing allowance.