“Over the years—so long as none are bought or sold—the slave population of a plantation will generally remain at about the same number, what with the births balancing off the loss of those from age and various fevers and other malignant conditions of the flesh. On Beulah Land we have done better. None have been bought or sold in the time I have presided over their work. And because of the care you yourself,” he cocked his head briefly toward Sarah, “and perhaps notably Mrs. Kendrick have given them, their numbers have increased. From the one hundred and forty-eight I found here originally, the count has risen to one hundred and sixty-two, and that does not include those slaves who were given their freedom, notably Lovey and Ezra and Pauline and Floyd—who has recently returned, seemingly to live here, but whose occupation has not been clearly defined to me. Nor does it, of course, include Mrs. Elk whose freedom I purchased.”

The pause this time was a short one.

“Nor does it include the slave Roman, who does no regular plantation work. So the increase is substantial. The crop, we might say, has been good. The care you and Mrs. Kendrick have given the slaves has paid handsome dividends. I have ever thought it unwise of owners to deny their slaves proper food or to house them badly or to ignore their illnesses. Those owners would not think of doing so with hogs or mules or cattle, yet slaves are a more valuable property than are those.

“I offer to buy from you, and not at the reduced value level this year has brought on goods of all kinds, but at the evaluation that held true a year ago—I offer to buy two—or four, if you will, male slaves, and one female for Mrs. Elk to train for the house. The two women from the Anderson settlement are not fit for work in a respectable house; they will serve merely as field hands.”

Leon stared ahead as if in a trance, but he was far from any state of sleep; his mind was, rather, intensely active. The money from selling two or four men and one woman, negligible though it might have been in other years, would not be so in this. Every penny had become important. He thought of the credit he had extended to the small-farm owners, the guarantees he had made, all in the, of course, natural expectation that the price of cotton would rise next year. Also, it was true there were more people on Beulah Land than were needed for the work. Two men often were set to a task one could easily accomplish. The loss of five would not make even a small difference; it would make none. Roscoe’s proposal was not merely a temptation. It was logical and fair—more than fair, he decided.