“We are a fledgling nation. We should not speak so recklessly of dissolving what we have built.” That’s that Senator Hunter with the angry eyes.

“Agreed,” Master says. “Splitting the country is a type of failure.”

“Not if it preserves our values and our way of life.”

“That would weaken the nation.”

“It would weaken the North. The South will be fine. Seventy percent of American exports come from our plantations. We will be fine.”

“We have to come to a compromise as a nation. If we leave, there will be war.”

“It will be brutal. Brother against brother.”

“I don’t know about you, but my brothers are all in the South,” Jesse Morton says, and the men erupt into laughter.

“I’ve got a sister up North,” says Clayton Ridgemore. “But I’ll tell you what, I wouldn’t mind an excuse to have her husband at the other end of my Brunswick.”

The men laugh again as I squeeze by Mister Gantly, who reaches out and grabs my bottom, pinching hard. When I jump and struggle away from him, he joins in the laughing with his deep chuckle, slapping his knee.

Across the room, Annie walks to the fireplace where I left the whiskey. She slides her hand over the snuff box next to it and slips it into her pocket. Then she takes up the whiskey bottle and fills every man’s glass, easing through the room with no more notice than a shadow. I look over at Master, who’s laughing with the rest of them, all of them joking about going to war.

Chapter 28

Henry

I’m working at my station with the sun beating down on my back when I see Sarah and Thomas go by. She doesn’t glance my way as she usually would. I watch them walk toward the pasture on the hill where the horses will be.

My anger comes through in my blows, as I strike too hard at the chains I’m making. I hate the chains, and I hate what they will be used for, and I hate that she sees me differently because I make them.

But she’s never had to earn money. She doesn’t have to feed and clothe herself. If she did, she’d understand.

I finish the chain and lay my hammer aside, wiping the sweat from my hands and forehead. Then I stride up the hill to the horse enclosure. I see them as I reach the crest. They’ve brought apples for the horses and she places the fruit in Thomas’s hand, holding his fingers flat and out of the way, encouraging him to feed them.

They’re concentrated on the apple and the horse and don’t hear me come up to them, until I’m right behind them.

“They’re sure enough getting a grand treat today,” I say.

Sarah’s shoulders jerk at the sound of my voice, but she doesn’t turn around.

Thomas, however, wriggles away from her and bounds up to me. “I can feed them. They like me and they don’t want to hurt me,” he announces. “Watch. They won’t bite me.” He scurries back to Sarah and takes an apple from her bag, then holds it out in the flat of his hand, glancing first to her for her approval and then to me with pride.