Master has him set the cases by the front door and calls me and Red on to the porch to stand with him in the shade.

“I’ve decided,” Master announces, “that Sarah will move into your cabin, Red.”

I glance at Red, who just looks straight on at the floor.

“I considered moving you to hers, I know it’s a little bigger, more space for children, but Bessie hangs on it because of Ben and I’m inclined to be gracious toward her.”

I curl my fingers by my sides and bite my lip. I hate him.

“Yes, sir,” Red says. When I don’t speak, he adds, “We thank you, sir.”

“Well, now, that’s all right,” he says, hands gripping on his lapels, chest puffed like an old rooster.

He struts inside the house, and Red and I look at each other before he leads the horses off to the coach house.

Bone tired, I drag a case of clothes inside and run into Maple, up from the carry-through with a jug of lemonade and three glasses. Seeing me coming in through the front door, she stops and gives me a look full of hateful meanness, then she marches into the sitting room.

I hear her voice sing out bright as sunshine. “So glad to see you all back. I made your favorite, Miss Martha, to welcome you home.”

The way she goes on, you could see how a body might be fooled into thinking she wasn’t a hateful shrew.

I hear her pouring the lemonade, saying, “You must be plum worn out from keeping that Sarah in line. I just saw her coming in the front door with her uppity self, bold as you please. That trip to Richmond’s gone straight to her head.”

“She’s just a touch distracted,” I hear Master say, from where I stand at the bottom of the stairs with the case hefted over my shoulder. “It’s a big night for her and Red.”

I climb the stairs and unpack the cases and, when I get that done, I slip out to my cabin. Laying on my pallet, I curl into a ball. I should be free right now and with Henry.

It’s late when Bessie drags herself in. Already the cicadas’ sharp chirp is up and going. I don’t have the energy to greet her, let alone see how she’s doing.

She stands over me and says, “You got to come with me.”

I don’t move. I want her to go and leave me be. Whatever it is they want up at the Big House, I just can’t.

“Get up, now.”

I close my eyes and pretend like she’s not there. In my head, I put myself in the wildflower field with Henry, butterflies landing right on his shoulder.

“He’s here,” she says. “Up at Ben’s grave, worried about you.”

I sit up and look at her. She nods and I jump up and dash out. At Ben’s grave, Henry’s pacing the line of trees. Almost right in the open. I run to him and drag him into the woods.