I hear Henry, out by the forge, pounding rhythmic and strong on his iron.

“You been whoring around with that blacksmith,” Master Mulch says, unbuckling his belt.

I sit up and shake my head, backing away from him, sliding across hay that pricks at my legs.

“If you lay down for him, you can lay down for me.”

I’m trembling and mute. I want to scream, but all I can do is shake my head. He grabs my ankle and yanks me forward.

When I kick at his hand and claw at the hay, he smacks me across my face, knocking the seeing out of my eyes and a ringing into my ears. I pitch to the side, gasping.

“You need to learn your place.” He grabs my leg and flips me over to my stomach.

I whimper. I squirm and flail. Finding my voice, I say, “Master won’t like this.” I try to slide away.

He holds my hips and plants his knee where my legs come together, pushing them apart till his knee sinks through to the ground. I hold my skirts down behind me and he laughs.

“I’m your master right now. You hear?”

His second knee crashes on to my leg and pushes it farther apart. “Me and no one else.”

He grabs my hands and lifts them above my head, holding them in place, trapping them against the ground. He leans forward and I feel his hot breath in my ear, “You tell that blacksmith, from now on, we’re gonna share.”

“Please don’t,” I try to say, but my sobbing chops the words into grunts.

With his free hand, he gropes at me, pinching and bruising, like he’s trying to leave marks for Henry to find. I pretend it’s not happening and that I’m somewhere else, far, far away. I’m with Isaac in our old cabin and Momma’s cooking yams and collard greens.

Then the overseer shoves my skirts up and I’m back in the stable, face down in the hay.

Screaming.

Chapter 37

Henry

The fire’s not hot enough, but I’m impatient. I get the bellows going and throw the iron in. It seems to take forever to heat, but, when it’s ready, I grab my tongs and pull the iron out of the glowing coals and slap it on the anvil. I pound out in a rhythm, not thinking much about the hooks I’m making. My mind is on her, coming with me to the river.

Then I hear a scream.

I jump up, run to the stable, burst through the door, and rush to a back stall where all the noise is coming from. There I find Ralph Mulch on top of Sarah. I grab him by his head, digging my fingers into his eyes and ears, and throw him against the stable wall where he crumples to the ground. The horses thrash and bray. He tries to stand, but trips on his trousers round his ankles. I punch him where he lies. As he scrambles for the door to the stall, shrinking from my blows, I kick it shut. It swings closed on its hinges, slamming his hand in the frame. He howls in agony. When he draws back into the stall, I punch him again and again until he’s slouched down on the floor, unconscious.