Love in Three-Quarter Time by Dina Sleiman

the barren land around him. They could never manage to run a tobacco plantation of over five hundred acres with half a workforce. Their only chance lay in the new crops of corn and wheat, which were much needed and should yield a good price.
    Terrence Sugarbaker snapped him from his thoughts as he galloped toward Robbie on the back of a black stallion. “If it isn’t the noble farmer hard at work.”
    â€œNot all of us can go through life spoiled and pampered, my handsome friend.”
    Terrence pulled to a stop beside him, flinging yet more dirt on Robbie’s muddy breeches.
    â€œThanks.”
    â€œSorry about that. Not that it makes much of a difference.” Terrence, looking the fair-haired dandy as always, removed his pristine riding gloves and hopped off his horse.
    Robbie stared down the front of his dirty ensemble. “True.”
    â€œSo how goes the grand experiment, my friend?” Terrence crossed to Robbie and gave him a slap on the back, dislodging yet more dirt in the process.
    Robbie glanced about the barren field. “Well enough.”
    â€œIs that some sort of euphemism for not well at all?” Terrence surveyed the land along with him.
    â€œIt’s taking longer to seed than I expected, but the other fields should be sprouting any day.” He brushed his dirty hands against his breeches. They snagged upon the fabric, rough and calloused, no longer the hands of a gentleman.
    â€œAnd you’re certain corn and wheat are the way to go?”
    â€œI can’t manage tobacco with only sixteen field workers. I’ve already shut down the main house.”
    â€œYes, I heard. Living with the Beaumonts for the time being, are you?”
    â€œIt frees many hands. And I’ve made Jimbo the overseer.” Jimbo had been a house slave ever since that awful day, safe with the family where he belonged. And he’d received the education to allow him to run the plantation.
    â€œYou can’t do anything halfway, can you, Robbie? A Negro overseer. Your neighbors won’t take kindly to that, you know.”
    â€œYou
are
my neighbor.”
    Terrence snapped his gloves against his pant leg. “My father is your neighbor. I must live on his charity for many years to come. I love you, Robbie old boy. I always will. But you’ve gotten yourself into quite a mess here. Have you considered planting half the tobacco instead of switching crops?”
    â€œI thought about it, but if we have a bad year, I won’t make my bank loan.” The loan his late father had taken to build the grand house for his mother.
    â€œAnd you think you can make it with any amount of wheat? Tobacco’s the cash crop. Have you been traveling so much that you’ve forgotten?”
    â€œBut it’s hard to cart it to the nearest ships. The local farmers have proven grain grows well here, and prices are higher than ever. I’ve done the calculations. With corn in the summer and wheat in the winter, I estimate I can produce double the crops with half the labor. If it works, perhaps others will attempt it and let their slaves go free.”
    â€œHa!” Terrence kicked the dirt in front of him. “More likely sell them to the highest bidder. Since our illustrious congress shut down overseas slave trade, slaves have become the most valuable commodity in the country. You might as well surrender, Robbie. Right or wrong, you will not win this fight.”
    Perhaps, but he would die trying. He had already given a piece of his soul in the battle, a piece he could never get back. Robbie shrugged his shoulders and changed the subject. “It’s too late now. We’ve already seeded two fields with corn. Your tobacco plants might be sprouting in their flats, but I’ve plenty of time to get this crop going.”
    â€œI hope so. I certainly hope so.”
    â€œWhy don’t you find Sally and ask her to prepare us some tea. The kitchen behind the house is