Deborah caught her breath with exasperation. “Roscoe works for a decent but moderate wage, and he has my permission to deal with the men as he deems fit, so long as the work is done on time. I do not concern myself with how he accomplishes this. Nor must you, my girl.”

Feeling “in for a penny, in for a pound,” Sarah plunged ahead. “Are you also unconcerned, since I assume that you must be aware of the fact that Roscoe sometimes has men beaten? He doesn’t touch them himself, but he has trained the man called Big Tom to use the lash at his direction.”

Deborah waved a hand. “Slave gossip.”

“More than that.”

“Have you been witness to such punishment?”

“No, ma’am, I have not.”

“Well then.”

“Aunt Deb—”

“I do not intend to continue this discussion! It was impertinent of you to introduce the subject.”

“I am sorry. I only beg that you—”

“Discipline must be maintained among the people, and Roscoe has my approval of whatever means he has found necessary.”

“Please, Aunt Deb, won’t you—”

“Cease!” Deborah marched angrily from the room, leaving Sarah to feel unhappy with herself and unsatisfied as to the situation she had sought to discuss.

She reported the encounter and the gist of the conversation to Leon that evening after supper as she helped him pack his traveling bags. He and Bonard were going tomorrow by the stagecoach to Savannah for a week or so of business dealings.

“You are tenderhearted, dear Sarah, and so the people are bound to exaggerate their woes, seeing that you are sympathetic.”

“No, Leon. They don’t lie to me.”

“Perhaps not lie, but they love the dramatic, you know. You’ve been to some of their church services and funerals.”

“It isn’t like that when they talk to me.”

“A thing grows in their minds, until they don’t know themselves how far they’re stretching it from the truth.”

“There was no ‘drama’ in the way it was told. There was fear.”

The word made him pause, because he admitted it to be true. He himself, ever since he was a boy, had felt an emotion close to fear when he thought of, or had dealings with Roscoe. “Do you know of any case of downright injustice?”

“Is flogging ever justified?”

Frowning, he took particular care in the folding of the cravats he intended to take with him. “Let’s talk of it again,” he finally said, “when I return. Until then, try to be still about it. Please? It really doesn’t do to push Mama too hard when it comes to Roscoe.”

She busied herself at a drawer of his bureau. “These kerchiefs are worn nearly through,” she observed.

“Never mind. I intend buying a new supply in Savannah.”

“You will remember all of my messages to Aunt Pea?”

“Oh, yes, yes.” He smiled.

“The poor darling is always a little despondent late in the winter.”