Princess Ces'alena (Webster Fields) Read online

  Princess Ceś alena

  Webster Fields

  Book One

  Princess Ceś alena

  Mercedes

  Keyes

  © Copyright 2008 Mercedes Keyes, Lawrence James – All Rights Reserved

  The Origins® bookcover design is a registered trademark of ASPI.

  ®All Rights Reserved

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form of by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the written prior permission of the author.

  ISBN: 978-1-4357-1770-1

  Amber Swann Publishing Inc.

  www.amberswann.com

  Email: [email protected]

  By Mercedes Keyes

  http://amberswann.com

  Other books & e-books:

  Aphrodisiac

  Gold Raven

  Family Reunion

  Thanks

  For the accomplishments made concerning this novel and others, I must say my thanks… first to my best friend, husband, lover, co-writer & editor - Lawrence James. I love you sweetheart, and no greater support could there be, than the encouragement and support you’ve given to me. Manifesting the necessary actions to make it happen. I thank you for being a doer… and not, just a dreamer. My very own “Action Man”. Next, to Lee James Fieldsend, who listened, and said… “What can I do? I want to play a part n this.” He too followed through, another action man, it’s no wonder, he is his father’s son, and I Thank you.

  Finally Gale Hunter, who is mentioned in my ramblings, and to all the people who added so much to my life that gave me very important lessons that I learned, and everyday that I live…I continue to learn. Thank

  Author Ramblings

  The humble beginnings of Webster Fields started in Chicago, Ill.1985. I was living on the south side of the city at 7130 S. Campbell. I first started writing it on tablets that I took to work when I was employed, with Jewel Food Stores. I was a checker and a facer when all I could think of was writing. My mind in a continuous escape to the world of Webster Fields. After work, I checked out a pawn shop that a fellow employee suggested, and there is where I found my 'First Writing Tool' A Smith Corona electric typewriter.

  However, because of a constant need to change a scene or omit a line... I knew it was time to move up. So, thanks to a very dear friend, Gale Hunter - who charged for me a Panasonic Word Processor, being the true, and real friend that she was, her desire was to assist me any way she could in my dream of writing. On that Panasonic WP is where the story took off. Gale – I don’t know where you are right now… but I thank you for believing in me, and playing an active part in aiding me. You will never be forgotten.

  We (my family & I) relocated to Wisconsin... and in the midst of writing "Aphrodisiac" the load drive on the disk went out after ten years of faithful service. My novels were trapped on a disk for 6 years with no way to get them off, because of format differences in writing machines. The blessing in disguise came while working at Best Power Uninterruptible Power Sourcing, in Necedah, Wi. There I learned the technical assembling of computer backups, and thus ... applied the knowledge to that Panasonic.

  With encouragement from Brad Carver (thank you as well), I ordered the part, took a deep breath, and replaced the old with the new. Put it back together, plugged it in...slipped in the disk, praying that time, storage and moving hadn't somehow erased the disk...I was scared, and clicked on the upload file, and everything came back up! I screamed & then I cried. I - was - back!! After absorbing as much as I could about computers, and then, thanks to my daughter... Cecilia McCormick who introduced me to the free web hosting world of Geocities.

  I began publishing my dream to the world wide web - www. As for Amber Swann Publishing Inc. it truly began in the year 2000. The name... Amber Swann was inspired by my most favorite character of all those I created in my mind. Ceś alena Huebana, named by the Indians... Amber Swann. Who inspired Ceś alena Huebana???

  My mother - I love you mama! And book one, Princess Ceś alena is dedicated to her - Vera Mae Hunter McMullin Rios – continued on the next page.

  Dedicated to...

  Vera Mae Hunter McMullin Rios

  I just want her to know, should she ever read this book that I've written, my main character, Princess Ceś alena was inspired by her. As I grew and watched her thru our struggle to survive alone in the crazy streets of Chicago, many things got her down but nothing would she let keep her down. She always gave her very best in everything she touched. She refused to be told there were things she could not do. No, she was not a saint, but she is a strong black woman that many men desired and she was the most ferocious and scary person I know when protecting her children. One of her major devastations was the divorce from my father that tore her happy home apart, shattering many of her dreams. I guess it was watching her, that made me need to know and understand the why's of actions committed by her at the time, when at a time I just could not in my youth understand. Now I do. And last, her absolute need to love, worship and embrace our Creator, failing HIM, was her greatest misery. This too, I understand.

  I love you mama, and though you were not always there for me, it made me...the strong black woman that I am. What I once cursed and cried over has become your greatest gift to me.

  Your daughter,

  Mercedes Keyes

  Main Characters Of Book One

  Maynard Ramsey Webster...... (Manny)

  Princess Ceś alena Huebana...... (Lena)

  Morris Roland Webster...... (Manny's father)

  Kayleen...... (House servant & slave)

  Michael Ramsey Webster...... (Manny's son)

  Golden Hope Webster....... (Manny's daughter)

  Katherine Sanders Webster...... (Manny's wife)

  Charles Anthony Wilson...... (Manny's friend)

  Josephine O'Brien...... (Red Dawn)

  Chief Long Bow...(Chief of remnant Cherokee tribe)

  Red Crow...... (Son of Red Dawn & Chief Long Bow)

  Jordan....... (Slave and Manny's friend)

  Leon...... (Young slave Manny brought home)

  Amos...... (Slave)

  Henry....... (Slave)

  Thomas Sandoval.... (Free man, abolitionist/teacher)

  Kevin & James....... (Overseers)

  Part One

  Princess Ceś alena

  Princess Ceś alena, you’ve touched my heart,

  enslaved my soul, right from the start.

  Your smile so bright, your eyes boldly gold,

  but to love you not, is what I’m told.

  Your skin is brown, so smooth, so soft,

  and in all of my dreams, within you I am lost.

  Oh yes it is true, a white man I be,

  the spell that you’ve cast, I’ve tried to break free.

  God only knows of my struggle to kill,

  and deny you the love, in my heart that I feel.

  Manny I am, a powerful man,

  not often moving from where ever I stand.

  Then Lena comes, a blinding light,

  my strength I then lose, and no longer think right.

  Before me she is, I can’t understand,

  how weak I become, from one touch of her hand.

  All right, I give up, and admit I am through,

  for each day that passes, I find myself falling,

  deeper, and deeper … in love with you.

  By Mercedes Keyes

  Introduction

  In the early 1700’s heavy settlement took place in the land of America…then still growing. In building this great nation, wars broke out, domestic and abroad, with history wri
ters crediting Columbus as the one discovering America. As time has proven, various nations around the globe would be affected by the discovery of this Country.

  As talk of its expanse and richness grew, promising a new and better way of life, the message of all it, had to offer spread, gearing Europeans up with an anxiousness to venture to this new land; many going to great lengths, fair and unfair, to experience and see this unspoiled land. The spread of the union would be like a plague, where over a period of time, through the 1800’s more land would be obtained to form what gradually becomes the “United States of America”.

  Unfortunately, men claiming honor, respect and strong religious convictions, soon became covetous by the promise of rich pickings from this fertile land, the expanse of which seemed to go on and on, and set about finding the precious minerals, gold and silver. Many of these men became increasingly corrupt as they illegally acquired land once belonging to those who lay claim upon it first, the natives of the land, many years before the European influx.

  Yet, because they —(The original Native Americans)- were not of the society, government, language and culture of those venturing to “the new world” their -( The Native American Indian)- original claim accounted as meaning nothing.

  No matter how strong their fight or claim to keep ownership of their land, where they indeed won many battles - the original Native American Indian, lost the overall war against the never ending influx of the original illegal aliens – the British outcasts, rebels and criminals, who believed it their God given right; to take over the land. This continued after independence was gained. Organizing a government that was supposed to uphold a democracy that would keep men free, granting them freedom to own land, and dwell happily there, raising their families in a way in which to be proud. To live and love and die contentedly…but then, this freedom was won for those whom this new and rising nation, defined as men, only their definition – counted – discounted all others. Those would be, men of fair or white skin. Speaking a language they deemed acceptable; of a custom or culture most familiar to them. The word “Diversity” was foreign at that time, and there was little tolerance for it in their grand scheme plans.

  Therefore, I write this novel to all those who, for some reason lost out on the right to live and love freely; to die in peace…for them it was impossible to live where they chose… to love whom they chose, and death…which in fact did come freely, sadly — sometimes before life and love could be fulfilled. It is my wish to highlight the small un-acclaimed heroes and heroines of our yesteryears.

  This novel is to acknowledge those who fought their own small battles, even though those are the only ones they won. To most, the overall “battle” was unimportant, but to those who stood firm, and struggled and fought…it meant their lives. No matter that they be…red, black, yellow and yes…even white. They are and were the root of what we have become.

  My story begins in the state of Mississippi, which was not a part of the union until the early 1800’s. At this time, American - Indian nations were still strong and high in population. Tribes of Choctaw, Chickasaw and the Cherokee, -(where a portion of my roots can be found)- with small sprigs of Creeks among the tribes. However, as the new settlers staked their claim to the lands, they were stunned by the welcome they received; mainly because of the existing neighboring tribes desire to live in peace. On a regular basis, pioneers were migrating further South and West.

  Some bands small, others large — consisting of families, scouts, individuals of varying skills and trades — along with men and women willing to sell their added manpower for a new place to call their own; with the hope of starting a new family.

  Among them, not mentioned above, many un-free men, women and children…coerced into aiding the colonization of this new land; they were a manpower resource used to mold and shape this nation forevermore. As time went on, more and more came to settle in the Southern territories, mainly Mississippi. By the start of the 1800’s Mississippi had a population of more than 8,850 white settlers and slaves, this number does not include the tribes of American-Indian.

  For everyone involved, things began to change, some things for some, for the better…but many things… for others, for the worse.

  Chapter One

  March, 1809

  “Got the worms Mikey?”

  “Yep — you got a pole for me like y’said?”

  “Mm hm, right here. Since we got ever’thin we need, we bes’ get goin’. I gotta be back early today. My pa was some angry yesta’day when I come back home so late. He swore ta wop me good I do it again!” Jimmy remembered all too well the scolding he received the day before.

  “You sure ole man Grady ain’t mind us fishin’ in his pon’? I don’t want no trouble. I promise’ my mama I wouldn’t be getting’ inta thangs I had no bidness.” Mike remarked as the boys walked along Okala rd. from his plantation home, Webster Fields. For once Mike was enjoying a freedom he had not had the luxury of before. To venture off the grounds of the plantation made his mother nervous, but he felt good about his newly acquired friends. Convincing his mother to let him go hadn’t been easy, but she’d finally given in and let him. Not until, of course, his mountain of chores had been taken care of; but his mother aware of how anxious he was to join his friends, had relieved him of some, taking care of them herself. Hence, after taking a thorough bath, where she supervised and inspected him to make sure he was truly clean. Inspection entailed, behind the ears, under the arm pits, and around his ankles, saying, “The older you get, the stronger you get, and I don’t mean muscle. So wash, everywhere, and I do mean…everywhere!”

  “Mama! I know.”

  “No back talk …get it done then!”

  Clean he was, by the time she’d finished with him, his blonde hair was squeaky and shining in the sun; his tanned fair skin glowing pink. His ears were usually cerise from her attention to them, with his flesh tingling all over from his bath. When done, he was neatly dressed, with given instructions followed by a hug, kiss on the cheek before sending him on his way; of course with emphasis of warning to stay out of trouble.

  “Naw, he won’t mind.” Jimmy answered.

  “My pa always goes fishin’ there. He ain’t gon’ mind us fishin’ in it.” Jimmy continued, turning to call back to Sammy, the other little boy of the threesome, who usually lagged behind. “Sammy, would you quit playin’ in them puddles and come on, we always gotta slow up t’wait on you. You bes’ be keepin’ up or one day, you fin’ ya’self left behin’, na’ come on!” Jimmy called, scrunching up his face in an impatient scowl.

  The day was muggy warm for morning; the dew just beginning to evaporate. By afternoon, it would prove to be a gentle warm and humid day; the weather warming earlier in the year, the breeze unsteady and rare. Although it rarely got to freezing in the south, it was usually colder than this winter had been, which seem to disappear before February was over. The green grassed pastures they encountered were still wet with rain and dew as they turned off of Okala to a little path soggy and worn of thinning grass. They walked and dodged around muddy puddles to avoid dirtying their shoes. Sammy, however carried his shoes in his hands and walked into the heart of the puddles, enjoying the feel of the cold rainwater squish squashing through his toes, his pants rolled up to his knees flashing white calves and once white ankles, now muddy and wet with dirty water.

  The three were around the same age, Mike nine; Jimmy eight and Sammy seven. This for Mike was the start of enjoying life away from the plantation, where there…the children of the slaves were his only source of play. Although he enjoyed them, because of who he was, there was always a hidden barrier that kept him somehow separate from them; even though he didn’t want to be but the difference in them was always there to see because of their skin color. Although they all cared for him in their different ways… he was the master’s son and that would always be.

  Even so, Mike had always been polite and considerate. His mother had been adamant to instill within him right a
nd proper manners, due respect for his elders, not being selfish or inconsiderate of those who had less than him.

  He was taught to always share with those less fortunate, such as the children who were labeled as slaves because their parents were un-free. Of his parents, Mike had always been closer to his mother, loving her to the point of doting on her and thriving on her love, approval and praise. And as most sons, his love for her was of a possessive protective one. Even when she embarrassed him with her babying, making him blush scarlet; regardless of how he tried to show what a big boy he was, she still insisted that he was her baby.

  Kissing and hugging him in front of anyone, fussing over him for the slightest injury…she’d always been that way, and at the mature age of nine… it was just one of the things he had to accept. In his mind…that’s the way mothers were. Happily he knew that to be the case with his own, her love was unconditional and complete.