Wild, Beautiful, and Free

Praise for Sophfronia Scott“Telling the story of a child of slave owner and an enslaved woman, Wild, Beautiful, and Free focuses on the individual heartbreaks of slavery and especially on the heroine, a courageous young woman who has to find her own route to becoming a free woman. It’s intensely readable—a page-turner set in a vividly described landscape.”—Philippa Gregory, #1 New York Times bestselling author“Stunning in a thousand ways, this spellbinding declaration of wild and beautiful freedom burns so fearless and hot it fairly takes one’s breath away. As the mixed-race heiress of a white, slave-owning father fights to survive enslavement, the danger of escape, and the Civil War to reclaim her life’s rightful place, her fierce battle rewrites the essence of what it means to be home and free. Sophfronia Scott gets pitch perfect every word, moment, heartbreak, and victory of this young woman’s determined struggle. From start to finish, it’s a searing and stunning triumph.”—Patricia Raybon, author of All That Is Secret: An Annalee Spain Mystery“Marvelously dramatic . . . brings its era to life with lush detail.”—People“Dazzlingly dark and engaging tale full of heartbreak, treachery, and surprise.”—Kirkus Reviews“Scott will most assuredly be recognized for her superb storytelling.”—Booklist“Scott should take a bow for penning this delicious and infinitely enjoyable read.”—Essence“Highly recommended.”—Historical Novel Society ALSO BY SOPHFRONIA SCOTTFictionAll I Need to Get ByUnforgivable LoveNonfictionThis Child of FaithLove’s Long LineThe Seeker and the Monk This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.Text copyright © 2023 by Sophfronia ScottAll rights reserved.No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.Published by Lake Union Publishing, Seattlewww.apub.comAmazon, the Amazon logo, and Lake Union Publishing are trademarks of Amazon.com, Inc., or its affiliates.ISBN-13: 9781662507458 (hardcover)ISBN-13: 9781542036061 (paperback)ISBN-13: 9781542036078 (digital)Cover design by Lesley WorrellCover image: ©Lukasz Szwaj / Shutterstock; ©Anatolir / Shutterstock; ©Ron and Joe / Shutterstock; ©Texture background wall / Shutterstock; ©KanokpolTokumhnerd / Shutterstock; ©ami mataraj / Shutterstock; ©Vectorgoods studio / ShutterstockFirst edition For my sisters,Theodora (1967–2011), Denise, Jeanette, and Michelle,brave daughters of a strong southern man ContentsPrologueChapter 1Chapter 2Chapter 3Chapter 4Chapter 5Chapter 6Chapter 7Chapter 8Chapter 9Chapter 10Chapter 11Chapter 12Chapter 13Chapter 14Chapter 15Chapter 16Chapter 17Chapter 18Chapter 19Chapter 20Chapter 21AcknowledgmentsBibliographyAbout the Author PrologueMy papa, Jean Bébinn, the owner of fifty thousand acres of the finest land in Louisiana, used to say a man falling down stairs was one of the saddest sights you could ever behold. Not only could you be certain the one falling would feel his body battered like the devil having his day on your behind, but there was also the fact that the person was surely humbled because he’d been unable to master this simple creation man made to overcome the ups and downs of the earth.Mr. Christian Robichaud Colchester looked like that when I first saw him in the winter of 1860. He tumbled and spun like a hay rake falling down the front stairs inside Fortitude Mansion. His eyes caught me in one hot moment as he whirled. Black marbles they were, and they flashed with shock like everything he believed about the world had betrayed him with a snap of a twig—eyes that looked like they had been somewhere and had returned to find me and were asking, Would I help? Now I know I couldn’t have seen his plea in that quick of time, but that was how it seemed. Papa’s words came to me, and I felt sorry for the man rolling down those stairs. I rushed to the staircase and stood there. Never mind I was probably two heads shorter than the huge beast falling. I was and still am nothing but a bit of a soul in slight packaging. My body didn’t have any sense of what my mind was making it do. I stood there and let him land on me.Air fled my chest, and a tingling sensation sprang up and down my spine. I thought I’d never breathe again, but I heard him coughing like he was too full of air, like he had taken all my breath from me.I think about that moment when I try to figure out when it all changed. When did he reach out like he was falling all over again and grab my heart with both hands and hold on like his life depended on it? When did I start holding on with him? He knows that I did, because that’s what’s making him so bold to ask what he’s asking of me now. He wouldn’t have done it otherwise. And by the same vein I wouldn’t be sitting here thinking about saying yes. Because that’s how much of me he has, and I’m thinking it wouldn’t be a great thing to let the rest of me go too. It’s just like standing in front of those stairs again. Can I break this fall? Inside that man is every notion of what I know about myself. He stands tall, like there’s a force inside him drawing him up to his full height, and that same force makes me feel large as well. Our eyes on the world are great and unyielding, like we’ve seen too much to close them now. We say the words we want to say and don’t care about the consequences. I know a bigger hell comes of keeping your mouth shut. We’re that much alike. And yet he doesn’t know what he’s asking of me. For what he wants, I’d have to deny myself in a way that would dismantle every aspect of my humanity. And his, too, but that doesn’t seem to concern him, perhaps because he’s already done it for so long. Maybe that’s why I’ve loved him—he’s burned himself down to this purity, and it’s all I can see of him. I can’t see anything else.“Jeannette, the