She was usually there when school was in session, but recently her attention had been diverted to other quarters. Leon had not, since his mother’s death, taken a firm hold as master of Beulah Land. He’d had to wait too long for independence and responsibility to exercise them naturally. Where he should have been firm, he was uncertain and self-conscious. He continued to work mainly with, and to know most about, the bookkeeping end of operating the plantation, and Roscoe moved to absorb more and more of the authority that had been Deborah’s. When Leon was in town with Bonard and Felix, as he often was, matters needing the master’s care were referred to the mistress. Sarah soon lost her shyness and learned to make decisions. She also learned that any hesitation or attempt to let a matter settle itself simply meant that Roscoe would settle it. She occasionally made poor, even, wrong decisions, but she taught herself to indulge in self-reproach only in private. It was better to be wrong than to let more power slip into Roscoe’s hands.

There was no beating of slaves now, whatever they had done—stolen, or been disobedient, or feigned illness to avoid certain hated jobs, such as building a fence in the swampy area of the woods to keep cattle from venturing where they might cripple themselves and drown. The first time she heard of a beating after Deborah died, she begged Leon to send for Roscoe, and in her presence tell him that the practice was to be discontinued.

“There must be discipline,” Roscoe answered in a reasonable tone.

“Of course,” Leon said with a glance at Sarah. They had discussed this probable objection, and she had suggested the answer he now made. “If there is any question of physical punishment, however, it should be referred to me.”

Roscoe bowed his head, veiling insolence in a quiet and earnest voice. “The master is often in Highboro when a man must be dealt with. The memory of slaves is short, like that of children. Punishment must quickly follow the error for them to understand and benefit.”

Leon looked disconcerted until Sarah said, “When Mr. Kendrick is not here, the matter will be referred to me.”

Roscoe nodded, as if relieved to settle this small but vexing question.

Soon after that interview, however, he made his first direct move against Sarah. One morning when she had finished her breakfast and chatted a while with Lovey about the day’s routine, she went off to the school and found no one there but the youngest children. When she asked, “Where is Roman? Is he sick?” there was a tittering. She clapped her hands to quiet them and said, “Where are the older children?” There was no response. “Cannot anyone tell me?”

Otis and Lotus, the five-year-old twins of Myrtis, stepped forward hand in hand. Otis said, “It Mister Elk.” Lotus nodded, frowning seriously to support her brother.