“Bessie has served my family since before I was born. I’ve never had any trouble with her. Isn’t that right, Bessie?”

“Yes, sir, Master. Ain’t never given you no trouble.”

“That’s right. So, Bessie, for your loyal and obedient service, I’ve decided to set you free.”

“Master?”

“I’ll draw up the papers and get them validated at the county court when I’m in town next week. And then you can go.”

“Go where, Master?”

“Wherever you like. ‘Well done my good and faithful servant,’ that’s what God will say, and that’s what I say. You’ve been a good and faithful servant. All right now, let’s have some singing.”

We look at each other like we all been struck stupid on the head with a pan. Ain’t no song for the likes of all that. He won’t sell me, but he’s gonna set blind old Bessie free. It’s a different kind of lash.

“Momma,” Clover says from next to me. Now it’s him that wobbles. And Bessie too. Samson steps over to her and puts his solid arm around her, keeping her standing.

Nobody sings, and after a time Master looks like he’s about to get upset. One thing about blind Bessie is she can feel what other folks can see. She clears her throat and steps forward, and Master’s good and faithful servant lifts her weedy voice. “It’s me, it’s me, it’s me, O Lord,” she sings, her voice straining to hold the tune, “standing in the need of prayer.”

Don’t nobody join in with her, even with Master looking on.

Chapter 50

Henry

I haven’t dared sneak back on to Jubilee since Matthew Johnson refused to let me buy Sarah and threw me off his plantation. I’m afraid of what he might do to her if he finds me there, so I keep my distance and worry. Truth be told, I’m afraid of what he might have already done. The not knowing is eating me up, but all I can do is wait by the river.

It’s been two days. But today is Sunday and she’s got the afternoon off. Today she’ll come. If she doesn’t, I swear I’ll go mad. I’ve been sleeping in the clearing, but I get myself over to by the river just past sunrise and sit, thinking. Since that day, I’m always thinking, trying to come up with a new plan. And trying not to panic when I come up blank. I’ve gone over that conversation with Matthew Johnson at least a hundred times in my head, cursing myself for all the things I should have said. I trusted too much in having the money. It never touched my mind that having money wasn’t enough. Mostly, I curse Matthew Johnson and his goddamn Tower of separate races. I guess Father Michael would have had a thing or two to say about that. According to him, Jesus was always flapping on about loving people. Enemies and all. I’m sure I’m not a very holy man, truth be told, because I can’t muster a bean of love for Matthew bloody Johnson.