Message-ID: <43232asstr$1057295411@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
Wrom: NEUQZAAFXISHJEXXIMQZUIVOTQNQEMSFDUL
MIME-Version: 1.0
Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit
From: ezriter@hotmail.com
Subject: {ASSM} {EZ}{NEW}MacKenzie's Journal VI (See Below)
Date: Fri,  4 Jul 2003 01:10:11 -0400
Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail
Approved: <assm@asstr-mirror.org>
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d

This is the sixth (and final) part of a six-part historical novella first
published at
Ruthie's Club in November, 2002, where it appeared beautifully illustrated
by Lloyd W. Meek.

The story codes would be MF+, Romance, D/s, BDSM, Slavery. The last of these
is literally slavery for the story is set in South Carolina during in 1839.

My thanks as always to my excellent and delightful editors - Gail Zane and
Ruthie.

The attached work of fiction is intended to be entertainment for adults in
locations where it is legal.  If it is illegal in your location, DO NOT
read.  This is a copyrighted work.  Reposting or any other use strictly
prohibited without the express, written permission of the copyright holder,
except may be posted as part of a  review or posted to free-access,
noncommercial archive sites.

Copyright 2002, 2003 by E. Z. Riter.

E-mail address: ezriter@hotmail.com

The works of E. Z. Riter are archived at www.asstr-mirror.org and
www.storiesonline.net

The works of E. Z. Riter writing as Ezra Zane as archived at
www.ruthiesclub.com, the web's premiere illustrated erotic pay site.

Please!        Give me your comments!


MACKENZIE'S JOURNAL VI

Husband and Wife

The day before the wedding ceremonies was spent in final preparation. The
manor gleamed with fresh polish and the seamstresses applied the final
touches to the ladies' dresses. Jonah and his sons butchered a bull calf and
left it to hang until the wee hours of the night when they would roast it
for our guests.

We welcomed early arrivals who would bed down in tents on the grounds that
night, except for Charles Barrows, a close friend to both Father and the
late Mr. Whitfield. He, his new wife, and his twin ten-year-old daughters by
his first wife occupied the guest house. Those daughters, Pearl and Ruby,
reminded me of Jane Marie both in appearance and in attitude, for they were
high-spirited and winsome. That night, with music provided by three slave
fiddlers, the guests danced in the glow from The Manor's oil lamps while the
slaves danced in their quarter under the light of the moon.

When the evening's festivities were complete, I retired to the late Mr.
Whitfield's bedroom, which Jane Marie and I would occupy after the wedding.
When Ebony and Patience joined me, I commanded them to sit, fully clothed,
on the edge of the bed. Patience was apprehensive but Ebony waited calmly as
I paced the floor before them.

"I know Jane Marie and Fancy are lovers," I said. "What I do not know is
whether that love is broad and deep, or of a more superficial and merely
physical nature."

"We can tell you what we think, Bobby," Ebony said.

"Ebony," Patience whispered.

"I won't lie to him, Mother, and don't you either," Ebony said sharply,
causing Patience to draw back.

Father's comments about the apprehension a slave woman must have about
revealing her emotions to her master popped to mind, for my sweet Ebony had
no such hesitation now. She, like I, knew our relationship had grown beyond
the sexual into a strong emotional bond, although neither of us had said it.
Perhaps she read in my countenance my own feelings for her, for she stood,
stepped to me, and put her arms around my neck. I held her tenderly and she
held me as Patience observed, and in her observation realized the depth of
the feelings Ebony and I shared. That realization loosened her tongue.

When Ebony sat down again, Patience resumed the discussion, saying, "Fancy
is afraid of men. She always has been, but her fear became a demon
possessing her the night she watched Master Edward whip Ebony. She couldn't
stop crying for a week."

Ebony said, "Jane Marie has been protective of her and Fancy uses that for
her gain."

"Is that how Fancy avoided Mr. Whitfield taking her as he took the two of
you?" I asked.

"Yes, it is. Jane Marie begged her father to leave Fancy alone and he did,"
Patience replied.

"Was that to have Fancy to herself?"

"I don't think so," Patience replied.

"I know it wasn't," Ebony interjected. "Jane Marie is like me, Bobby. She
enjoys sex with a woman, and knows it is better than your own hand but not
as good as with a man."

"Jane Marie hasn't had a man, has she?" I asked.

"Of course not," Ebony answered.

"Then how does she know a man is better?"

Patience and Ebony both appeared to be embarrassed, but Ebony said, "Every
day she wants to know everything we did with you and we tell her. She is
eagerly anticipating intercourse with you. Have no doubt. Jane Marie loves
you and will be a good wife."

Patience was surprised that knowledge didn't anger me, but it did not. In
truth, I was secretly pleased Jane Marie knew and did not object. "Tell me
more about Fancy and Jane Marie," I said.

"While Jane Marie enjoys lying with Fancy, the root of her feeling is
sisterly compassion, with carnal pleasures being a tasty extra. Fancy feels
differently. She hates men and sees Jane Marie as both her principle lover
and as a shield to protect herself from men's lances," Ebony said.

I looked at Patience, who said, "I agree, Master Robert."

"And she sees you as the man who will take Jane Marie from her, so she fears
you greatly," Ebony said.

"How do you suggest I proceed?" I asked.

Patience shrugged. Ebony, however, replied, "You must strip away Jane
Marie's protection so Fancy knows she must obey only you."

"And if she doesn't obey me?" I asked.

"Then you must whip her as a slave-girl is meant to be whipped, naked and
tied to the slave's tree."

Patience shivered remembering that feeling. "That won't be necessary," she
said softly. "If Fancy truly believes you will whip her, she will do
anything to avoid it."

"But the whipping would banish any doubt she has about my resolve to direct
her," I said.

"She'll believe you once Jane Marie's protection is removed," Patience said,
and Ebony voiced her concurrence.

"How will Jane Marie respond?" I asked.

"I know she wants to be your wife and lover, but she still wants no harm to
come to her sister. If you whip Fancy at the tree, Jane Marie will be sorely
vexed. How she will ultimately behave as a result, I don't know," Ebony
replied. "As for Fancy, Mother is right. You must make one thing undeniably
clear to her - obedience to you, not Jane Marie, will be rewarded and
disobedience will be harshly and swiftly punished by the whip."

Ebony's and Patience's unequivocal statements confirmed and clarified my
thoughts about Fancy from my observation of her. One thing was clear. I
could not sell Fancy, for Jane Marie would miss her too much.

"Where is the whip Mr. Whitfield used on you, Ebony?" I asked.

"I don't know," she replied.

"It's in the closet in his office," Patience said.

"Go get it," I commanded. "And bring any rope you might find."

By the time Patience returned with the whip and a coil of rope, I was naked
except for the bottom to my longjohns. I took the whip from her and
commanded them to quietly accompany me. With the key to Jane Marie's room in
my other hand, we stealthily climbed the stairs until we stood outside her
room, where we could hear groanings of pleasure within. I unlocked the door
and surreptitiously opened it.

Although I expected to catch Jane Marie and Fancy enjoying each other, I was
unprepared for what I saw. Jane Marie was naked and bound wrist and knee to
the headboard of her bed, which bent her knees and opened them widely, and
raised her bloated and dripping pinkness off the bed, exposing it to Fancy,
who was tormenting her and making her beg for her needed release. A small
ivory phallus jutting from Jane Marie's cunt enhanced Fancy's stimulation of
her.

Watching them gave me a burning desire to participate by leaping upon Jane
Marie and burying my cock in her, but my needs were nothing compared to
hers, for she was fevered with desire. Ebony and Patience watched through
the door as I walked toward the bed to observe more closely.

I was pleased with the lushness of Jane Marie's body as well as the heat it
generated, for her breasts were larger than I imagined and rested high on
her chest with small and hard nipples, and her legs were long and supple.
The hair below her waist was as rich and dark as the hair on her head. Her
flower was in full bloom, a most delightful sight, and her love button stood
prominently erect, ready for a cock or tongue or finger to detonate it.

I covered her mouth with my hand and her eyes flew open as she screamed in
horror and frantically fought to free herself. Between Jane Marie's pale
white legs, Fancy looked up and saw me. She covered her face, shook, and
sobbed into her hands.

"Be still, Jane Marie," I demanded. I turned to Fancy and said, "Fancy,
stand there (I pointed to a spot on the floor) with your hands behind your
head and your legs spread."

I turned back to Jane Marie and said, "It's no wonder you appeared so eager
when Father handed me the rope that night. I see you enjoy its feel."

Jane Marie was, in an instant, as red as the brightest flower and her
expression was as wanton as her mother's the night she reappeared with my
father from their sojourn in the guest house.

"Do not speak a word, my lusty bride-to-be," I commanded. She nodded and I
uncovered her mouth.

I turned to the terrified slave girl and snapped, "Quit your crying, Fancy."
I stepped to Fancy and she drew back. "Never step away from me. Put your
hands behind your head or I shall bind you that way," I commanded
dramatically. Shaking as if bitterly cold and with tears flowing like rain,
Fancy complied.

"Are you my slave, Fancy?" I asked her.

"Yes, Master," she sobbed.

"I own all of you, don't I?"

"Yes, Master."

"I own your breasts, don't I," I said, cupping them in my hands.

"Yes, Master."

I touched her right nipple with my left index finger before slowly trailing
the finger down across her belly and to the bush below. I gently stroked the
flower between her legs.

"I own your cunt, don't I?" I said as I drove a finger into her love
passage.

"Yes, Master," she gasped.

"Some men think all women should be whipped before they are first used to
insure their eager obedience. Your mother was so whipped and you watched
Ebony on the slave's tree, didn't you?"

Poor Fancy was too distraught to speak. All she could do was shudder and sob
and nod her head.

"Do you need to be whipped, Fancy?" I asked as I glowered at her.

"No, Master."

I turned toward Jane Marie. She trembled as I stepped to stand over her, but
her trembling, as her countenance screamed, was desire and not fear. I
kissed her hungrily before saying, "I am not in any way displeased with you,
and I do love you deeply."

"I love you, too, Bobby," she whispered.

"Tell Fancy you will not protect her from me."

Jane Marie hesitated, which was not a surprise for I was asking her to do
something she had never done. Had I thought she would not do it, I would not
have asked.

"Fancy, you are Master Robert's slave and you will obey his every word. I
myself will whip you if you displease him," she said strongly.

Hearing Jane Marie's words, Fancy swooned to lie prostrate on the floor.

"You two take Fancy to my room. Patience, return here to spend the night
with Jane Marie. Ebony, stay with Fancy until I return," I said.

As they struggled to revive and move the unconscious girl, I turned toward
Jane Marie. I released my erect cock from the confines of my longjohns, and
it bounced in the air above her face. She gasped when it appeared and her
eyes widened as she stared at it.

"See what you've done to me. Too bad we have to wait until we're married," I
said. With the tip of a finger, I stroked her cunt lips before pulling the
phallus from her. Of hand polished ivory and approximately four inches long,
it was smooth as silk and slippery from her love juices.

"I'm bound. I can't stop you from taking me now," she said hopefully.

"No. It's best to wait until we're married," I replied as I continued
stroking her.

"No, it's not," she retorted. Her countenance darkened when I leered
devilishly at her. "Fuck me, Bobby," she demanded.

I guided my manhood to caress her cheek. She tried to take it in her mouth
but I pulled away.

"Tomorrow, my love, you will have all of this shaft buried repeatedly within
you, but for now, this will have to do." I covered her mouth with my hand
and lowered my mouth to the rigid protrusion that was the seat of her
womanly desires to take it between my lips and flick it rapidly with my
tongue as Ebony had taught me. Her sweet girlish cunt rose to meet me to the
extent her restraints allowed, vacillating as her love juices gushed into my
mouth and her scream, despite my hand, filled the air. I removed my hand and
she gasped for breath.

"Patience will release you when she returns, but no more pleasure for either
of you. We have an important day tomorrow," I said. I kissed her heartily
and left her there.

As I walked out of the room, she called after me, "I love you, Bobby."

I passed Patience on the stairs and instructed her to release Jane Marie's
bonds and to stay with her. When I returned to my room, Fancy was on the bed
with Ebony sitting beside her and telling her something I couldn't overhear.
When they realized I was there, Ebony quickly stood aside. Fancy lay prone
and her eyes reflected the horror possessing her.

"I own you, Fancy. When it pleases me, I will fuck you. You have no choice
about that," I said to her. "You do have a choice about being whipped. Bring
me pleasure and enjoyment and I won't whip you. Displease me and I will. But
whether you please or displease me, I will do with you as I want and I want
to fuck you. Do you understand me?"

"Yes, Master," she answered in a dead voice.

I brought the whip down across the front of her bare thighs, making her
scream and thrash and rub her legs with histrionics exceeding their cause.

"I whipped you because your face and tone of voice displeased me," I said to
Fancy. "I will be ruthless in correcting you, for I want you to be most
eager to make me happy."

Father, who was sleeping with my soon-to-be step-mother in the next bedroom,
appeared at our door with a pistol in his hand. "Are you all right?" he
asked.

"Fancy is tasting the whip to see if it's to her liking," I explained.

"It's about time," he said coldly. "Call me if you need," he said before
returning to his own room.

I said to Fancy, "Ebony calls me Bobby and Patience calls me Robert, but you
will only call me Master." I held the whip out to her. "Take this and keep
it close at hand. Carry it with you during the day, so it will be nearby if
I want to whip you." Her hand shook as she took the whip from me. "I'm going
to the outer-house. Be naked and in bed when I return."

"Yes, Master," she said with resignation.

By the time I returned to my bedroom, my plans for Fancy had changed from
taking her that night to using a ploy suggested by Father's revelations
concerning Mrs. Whitfield.

Seeing Fancy and Ebony in bed when I returned, I ordered Fancy to extend her
arms over her head. I bound her wrists with the rope and tied them to the
bed's corner post before I finished undressing and lay on the bed between
them. I kissed sweet Ebony, rolled toward Fancy, and rested prone with my
head propped up in my hand.

"I have no desire to whip you," I said as I rested my hand on her taut
stomach. She squirmed under my touch. "But I am your master and I will enjoy
all of a master's prerogatives. You are my slave and you will serve me as I
want."

I explored Fancy's body as she lay bound and contemplating her fate. Fancy
was the most lean of the four women in my life, with small, hard breasts and
narrower hips. Her teats were large and well formed, and, as I soon
discovered, swelled nicely when suckled. Her waist was smaller, too, and her
legs seemed void of any fat even on the inside of her thighs.

When I touched her cunt, her legs snapped shut. "You know better than that,"
I chided. "Open your legs to welcome me."

She complied, for her terror of being whipped exceeded her fear of my
possessing her. I stroked the bud of her cunt and tested her tunnel to find
it devoid of moisture. Using my mouth against her breasts and torso and my
hand on her sex, I stimulated Fancy until her cunt was dripping and beads of
sweat glistened on her breasts and stomach. Then I stopped.

"Fancy," I said, "You may not give or receive pleasure without my express
permission. Ebony, you are charged with spending every waking moment with
her. If she seeks pleasure, whether from others or by her own hand, you will
tell me and I will whip her."

"Yes, Master," Ebony said subserviently.

"If I am not with you at night, you will bind and tease her, but keep her
from release, as I have done tonight."

"Yes, Master," Ebony said.

"You are welcome to your pleasure, Fancy," I said. "But you must come to me
to receive it."

I rolled over and into Ebony's eager arms to feel her happy hands and body
against mine. I mounted Ebony and we once again enjoyed our release
together. Fancy's eyes never left me.

*****

The next morning, I was awakened early by Ebony's gentle stroking and
nuzzling. Fancy lay awake beside me. I kissed Ebony, released Fancy,
reminded them both of my instructions to Ebony concerning Fancy's behavior,
and dressed for the day in my formal attire.

I went to the dining room where Melissa and the other servants were laying
out breakfast for our guests. In addition to those who spent the night at
Whitlands, we were expecting many more arrivals that day. Food would be
served throughout the morning and again after the ceremony.

Since Mrs. Whitfield would not appear until later, Father and I spent the
morning being the hosts, which was a joyous duty, for the adults - the
farmers and businessmen and others who were Father's friends - treated me as
an adult. Six weeks ago when I first was given that honor, I was elated by
it. Since then, much water had passed under the bridge and my maturity had
sprouted and grown with each drop of it. That day, I felt I belonged there,
and I assure you, that was a good feeling.

Patience, Ebony, and Fancy assisted in the serving, although their duty was
light. They wore identical dresses made for them at Jane Marie's
insistence - cotton in a sky blue color, high necked, and with sleeves
coming to their elbows. They wore corsets underneath, which was a first for
Ebony and Fancy. The dresses fit their forms tightly to their waist and fell
freely below. Each of them was appealing, but Ebony's sparkling face set her
apart from her mother and sister.

About ten, Mrs. Whitfield appeared. When she entered the room, conversation
ceased and a collective gasp rose from the assemblage, for she was quite
beautiful both in her attire and in the glow of happiness radiating from
within her.

Her dress, in dark burgundy velvet with wide piping in a red satin, began at
the points of her shoulders and sloped to the valley between the hills of
her breasts. It fit snugly over her corseted torso and fell from her waist
over only a few layers of petticoats, making it appear more trim than was
common at the time. A red satin rose nestled in the center, its top touching
the dress' neckline. Her hair was straight about her head until eye level.
 From there, it fell in tight ringlets. The choker around her neck was a
white and blue porcelain cameo attached to a red satin ribbon.

She glided through the room like a queen, head high and back straight,
talking animatedly with her guests and graciously accepting their
compliments. More than once I heard someone say they had never seen her so
happy. Father was constantly at her side and his joy equaled hers, as our
guests noted.

About eleven, Ebony and Fancy came to me seeking permission to quit their
duties in order to assist Jane Marie in preparation of the ceremony. I gave
Ebony permission, but ordered Fancy to follow me to my bedroom. Once there,
I shut the door behind us. Fancy stood in the middle of the room with her
hands clasped in front of her and her face full of dread.

"You're a beautiful woman, Fancy," I said to her. The compliment rendered
her mute for I doubt any man had ever told that, but it was true. "I'm glad
I own you and that you're part of my family."

"Thank you, Master," she said with trepidation.

"I know you love Jane Marie and love your sexual pleasures with her." She
didn't answer but none was expected. "Don't be a silly girl and fight me.
Realize that I won't hurt you if you please me, and when I am pleased with
you, I'll allow you pleasure and share you with Jane Marie if she wishes."

I took a step toward her. She flinched but didn't draw away. "Raise your
skirt for me," I said.

I feared she would burst into tears as she slowly raised her skirt, but she
controlled herself. Without my asking, she spread her legs to give me access
to what she knew I wanted. I lightly stroked the lips of her sex as I
studied her face.

"Do you like that?" I asked softly when I saw the first signs of arousal in
her.

"Yes, Master," she whispered.

"And do you like this?" I asked as I tugged on her love button.

"Yes, Master," she said as her passions flamed.

I ceased tantalizing her and lightly kissed her closed lips. "Remember I
will bring you pleasure when you please me," I said firmly but not cruelly.
"Now go help your mistress."

For her own reasons, she restrained her desire to plead with me for her
release. She dropped her skirt and followed me out the door. She scurried
away, but stopped to look back at me before she disappeared upstairs.

Our wedding ceremony was to be at high noon on the broad, grassy knoll on
The Manor's west side. An altar on a raised dais built by Ironwood's
carpentry shop was where we would pledge our vows as our guests stood in the
open field around us.

Shortly before that hour, Pastor Simonton told me the time was near. I
called for silence. When it fell, I asked our guests to join me before the
altar. I took Mrs. Whitfield's arm to escort her as we led the way to the
wedding site.

Jane Marie had asked Father to give her away, since her own father was
deceased. He gladly agreed. She had decided to have only one attendant, her
mother, standing for her. Father was my best man. Pearl and Ruby Barrows
served as flower girls and Phillip Jefferson, a young man of six, served as
ring bearer. Patience, Ebony, and Fancy would stand at the front but on the
far side to observe the ceremony.

As I stood awaiting my bride, my heart was in my throat in eager longing for
her. When she appeared on my father's arm in preparation of walking to the
altar, I was struck dumb by her beauty and the import of the moment.

"Breathe, Robert," Pastor Simonton said quietly.

Her dress was brilliant white with a long train, and with a veil covering
her hair and face. All I could see was white, but I saw where it narrowed
around her waist and flared again below. Little did our parents or guests
know that last night I saw all of her and tasted her sweetness and gave her
delight, or that my adventure with her inflamed my already burning appetite
to make her mine.

My singular focus and intensity began the moment I saw her on my father's
arm and continued throughout the ceremony, which was too long by far as
every groom must feel. When Parson Simonton said, "You may kiss the bride,"
I lifted the veil to reveal Jane Marie and her shining face that radiated
her happiness and love for me. I kissed my bride, receiving a kiss like no
other.

Father and Mrs. Whitfield planned to have the Parson wed them after the
guests and we exited the wedding area, but after we trod the aisle to its
end, I stopped, asked the guests to remain in place, and announced another
wedding. The roar of the crowd was most rewarding. I stood beside Father to
serve as his best man as he had done minutes before for me, and Jane Marie
served her mother as matron of honor.

After that double wedding, brides and grooms and guests danced and dined and
shared in the happiness, for it was a blessed day.

Late that night, when the guests were gone or asleep and the slaves were
quiet and the day was done, I carried Jane Marie, still in her white wedding
dress, into our bedroom.

When her feet touched the floor, she said, "You scared me to death last
night when you barged in like that."

"Good. Remember, I am now your husband and, therefore, your master."

"Master? Ha," she said. "If Ebony can seduce you out of her punishment, I
know I can."

"You knew about that?" I said innocently.

"You knew I did because Ebony told me she told you. We share everything. I
know you have her every night and most mornings. I know about Patience. And
I know your plan to terrify Fancy into obedience rather than actually
whipping her." She smiled and wrapped her arms around my waist to peer into
my face. "I have no objections to your mistresses, whether the slaves you
have now or others in the future." She kissed me tenderly. "I know that even
if you have a hundred Ebonys, I am your one and only true love, just as you
know that you, not Fancy or Ebony, are my one and only true love."

"Jane Marie, although you have no objection about them, I would strenuously
protest if...."

"Bobby MacKenzie, don't you dare say it," she interrupted with blazing eyes.
"I love you with all my heart and soul. That love and my own honor are the
reasons I will never commit adultery." She grinned wantonly. "Of course, I
don't consider Sapphic love to be adultery."

"Oh, you don't?"

"No. I plan to enjoy it when it suits me."

"You're going to be a rare handful, aren't you?" I asked.

"Yes, and I'm well worth every minute of it."

She put her arms around my neck and we kissed. I well knew from our kisses
and touches and the way she looked at me that our love was unlike any other,
not only in the brightness of its flame but in the depth and breadth of its
fire.

"Now, husband of mine, I understand the word is fuck. I know what it means.
Show me how to do it."

For some reason I don't understand, my desire to have her quickly had
diminished as my desire to have her increased, a strange juxtaposition
indeed. I carefully lay aside her veil, then her wedding dress, then her
corset and hose.

"Hurry up, Bobby," she demanded as she yanked my waistcoat from me.

"Didn't your mother instruct you to be a hesitant maiden?" I teased.

"Yes, but while I'm a maiden, I'm not in the least hesitant. I've wanted
your cock in me since I first learned men have cocks and women have cunts to
hold them." Her fingers were busy opening my shirt. "Besides, the ivory
phallus Fancy uses is a pale miniature of what I saw last night and I'm
eager to have the real thing."

She flopped back of the bed, wantonly spread her legs, and stroked her
wetness with her fingertips. "See?" she asked, holding her glistening
fingers out to me.

In seconds, I joined her on the bed and she wrapped her fingers around my
manhood. "God, you're big," she whispered as she guided me into position.

As I stared down into her face so lustful and alive, I knew I was a man
blessed and my life would be most unique.

"Oh, Bobby," she moaned as the head of my cock slipped between the lips of
her cunt. "Fuck me. Fuck me long and hard."

*****
*****

Epilogue


MacKenzie Farms Inc.
P. O. Box 1
MacKenzieville, Missouri

March 15, 2001

Mr. Edward L. MacKenzie
2727 South Main Street
Laguna Madre, California

Dear Edward,

I have received your letter and the genealogical charts you sent. Genealogy
is a passion of mine and I share your desires to uncover your ancestors.
This letter will clarify part of the problem you encountered in your search,
but it won't give you definitive answers. Those answers will require both
more extensive research by you and luck.

I have in my possession the MacKenzie family Bibles and, more importantly,
journals kept by Robert James MacKenzie Sr. from his age of sixteen in 1839
to his death in 1919 at the ripe old age of ninety-six when he was claimed
by the St.-Louis-strain encephalitis epidemic that took twenty million lives
worldwide. I will hereinafter refer to him as RJ1. The information I am
providing in this letter came almost exclusively from his journals, which
are long and rich in detail.

RJ1 was the first child of Robert Bruce MacKenzie (hereinafter RB1) and his
first wife, Constance Anne Courtlandt.

RJ1 married Jane Marie Whitfield (hereinafter JMW) on April 27, 1839 at
Whitlands plantation. On the same day RB1 married Mary Elizabeth Brunson
Whitfield, Jane Marie's mother and the widow of Edward Whitfield. I
understand this was not too uncommon at the time, although it made Mary
Elizabeth both the mother-in-law and step-mother of RJ1.

The problem with your research and with any research into this line of
MacKenzies stems from RJ1's peculiar nature, and JMW's own eccentricities,
which dovetailed with those of her husband.

RJ1 himself best stated his nature by writing in his journal that he was
"born a Baptist, married an Anglican, but had the heart and soul of a
Mormon." Elsewhere therein he stated, "I am a fortunate man, for my beloved
Jane Marie encourages me to take other women as my wives and to increase the
number of offspring they give me."

In addition to JMW, RJ1 considered his "wives" to be: Ebony MacKenzie and
Fancy MacKenzie, both Negro slaves and JMW's half-sisters; Patience
MacKenzie, a Negro slave who was Ebony and Fancy's mother; Pearl May
Barrows; Ruby Anne Barrows; and, Daisy Jane Cumberland. That is a total of
seven.

The Barrows were twin daughters of Charles A. Barrows, a plantation owner in
the area, and his wife, Priscilla, who died in childbirth. When the girls
were eleven, their father and step-mother died. They became wards of RJ1 and
came to live with him and his family at Whitlands. According to his
journals, RJ1 made them his "wives" on their sixteenth birthday, which was
in 1845.

Daisy Jane Cumberland was the daughter of Claire Fort Cumberland, an unwed
woman in a dire position, and a father unknown. Although Daisy Jane was
white, RJ1 bought her from her mother when Daisy Jane was thirteen because,
again according to his journal, she was a "beautiful and fiery lass who
would be a joy to tame and a pleasure to bed." She became his wife in 1849,
when she was fifteen.

Legally, those other women were not his wives since he was married to JMW
until her death in 1897. Still, I searched for wedding certificates or
marriage licenses without success.

Both RB1 and RJ1 were concerned about the political situation in the United
States as both were ardent Unionists who feared the Union would spilt
asunder. Driven by this concern, they sold their South Carolina plantations
in 1850, migrated westward, and acquired substantial farming operations in
what is now northwest Missouri and adjacent parts of Nebraska and Iowa.

Accompanying them on this journey, which RJ1 refers to in his journal as
"The Great Migration," were: Elizabeth MacKenzie Merewether, RJ1's full
sister who was a widow with four children; all the other living lineal
descendents of RB1; and several slave families totaling twenty-two people.
All the slaves, including the three who were RJ1's wives, were given their
freedom before the trip began.

RB1 and RJ1 created a genealogical nightmare because they both gave all
their male children the first name of Robert, together with a different
middle name for each. To complicate the issue, when they arrived in
Missouri, all last names were conformed as "MacKenzie" and Elizabeth
Merewether's two sons were given the first name of Robert.

RJ1 fathered children by all his wives as follows: JMW, eight; Ebony, five;
Fancy, four; Patience, two; Pearl May, seven; Ruby Anne, six; and, Daisy
Jane, seven, for a total of thirty-nine, not including children who died
during childhood. Of these, twenty-four were male. In addition, RB1 had
three children by Mary Elizabeth, two of whom were male.

This means that during this period there were thirty men in the extended
family with the name of Robert MacKenzie. The problem is compounded by
subsequent generations continuing those names for their own sons as my
ancestors did for me.

You can see the problem I had when you asked me for information concerning
your ancestor Robert MacKenzie, for I must reply, which one?

Until you can determine your ancestor's middle name, or exact date of birth,
or provide some other unique criteria for identification, I am afraid I
cannot help you further.

Good luck in your search.

Sincerely,

Robert James MacKenzie VI


The End

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+
| alt.sex.stories.moderated ----- send stories to: <ckought69@hotmail.com> |
| FAQ: <http://assm.asstr-mirror.org/faq.html>  Moderator: <story-ckought69@hotmail.com> |
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+
|Discuss this story and others in alt.sex.stories.d, look for subject {ASSD}|
|Archive at <http://assm.asstr-mirror.org>   Hosted by <http://www.asstr-mirror.org>      |
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+