Hidden Legacy

Book One

PROLOGUE

Websterville, Alabama April 26, 1842

Nathaniel Webster pounded in the last nail with explosive fury, then grasping the post, rocked it, testing its seating in the rich, black soil. That'll hold it, he thought, again jabbing the dirt with the handle of his shovel. Every movement increased the throbbing misery in his head. He had spent all morning in this northeast parcel of land repairing a section of fence a bull had knocked over.

Blanketed with loneliness, he tossed the tools into the wagon bed, then heavily hoisted himself to the seat and drove slowly back to the house.

As he entered, he momentarily paused in the doorway of the newest addition to the house and scanned the room. His siblings, home from school for their father's funeral, briefly glanced up, then returned to their own thoughts. Twelve-year-old Deborah, one foot tucked under her, the other swinging back and forth, sat alone on a settee stroking the thick braid of russet hair she had pulled across her shoulder. Another few years, and we'll have to beat the boys off with a stick, Nathaniel thought. His dark eyes swung to Conrad, shifting and twisting in his seat across from Deborah, his curly blond hair looking almost brown above his grief-paled face. Nathaniel squinted and glanced toward a darkened corner of the room where seventeen-year-old William, head bowed, quietly clenched and flexed his hands between his thighs, while Narcisse, mother of the four, sat motionless in a straight-backed chair, staring straight ahead.

Without speaking, Nathaniel walked to the nearest window and gazed toward the river's sun-bleached surface.

At last, the crunch of wheels and hurrying footsteps sounded, and Burt Salter trotted into the room on the heels of their one house slave. 'Sorry I'm late, Mistress Webster,' he said. Clamping his jaw, he slid his brief bag onto a nearby table. 'Took a bit longer getting here than I figured.' His raspy voice, resounding with false cheer, broke like thunder over the stillness.

Unbuckling the straps of his bulky satchel, Salter carefully withdrew a thin sheaf of papers. 'I'm sure there'll be few surprises here,' he said. He paused and cleared his throat. 'Nathaniel came to see me when he first came to these parts some twenty-five years ago, give or take a few years. Wanted to be sure he owned all this land legally. Then I didn't see him anymore until you were born,' he added, glancing up at Nathaniel, now standing protectively behind his mother. Salter shook his head and frowned. 'Only client I ever had who insisted on hand-writing his will using his own words, but he figured it would be more binding that way. Even got Judge Perkins to witness it.' His eyes sought Nathaniel's.

'Except for additions made with the birth of each child, it is the same now as when you were born.' He looked around, then picked up the blue-jacketed document. 'Shall I begin?'

Nathaniel nodded. 'Let's get it over with,' he said.

Salter raised a pinc-nez to his eyes and began to read. 'I, Nathaniel Holt Webster, being of sound mind.

From somewhere along the outer rim of his consciousness, Nathaniel heard Salter's voice, droning like that of a noisy fly, stop first on his mother. 'To you, my darling Narcisse, flower of my heart, the home and all additional holdings are yours until you join me in death,' he read. As is right, Nathaniel thought, half-listening, his attention wandered to the sun-shimmered river. Salter cleared his throat and re-settled his glasses atop the rigid hump on his nose.

'For you, William, money for your schooling and other special needs is already set up in a separate account, with additional funds to be held in trust in a Mobile bank.

'Conrad, you, too, have the same benefits.

'And now to the only daughter God has blessed us with.

'An account like William and Conrad's has been set up for you. However, as beautiful as you are, and as much as the thought saddens me, I'm sure you'll be married long before I die. But, whatever happens, the money left in your account remains yours whether I'm alive, or not.

Nathaniel's attention returned to the reading when he heard his name.

'And last, but not least, I come to you, Nathaniel. At your mother's death, all holdings, including the plantation, will pass into your hands for safe-keeping.

'Remember those words, because certain conditions go along with your inheritance. All proceeds from all enterprises will be equally shared with your siblings until such time as they reach twenty-one, or are self-supporting. Even then, Magnolia Hill shall always be their home should they so choose.

'Now we come to the part that will touch future generations. All future heirs of these properties will be. . .

Nathaniel, stunned by the revelations and all they entailed, stared blankly at the lawyer.

(550 pages)