Fruit cakes were baked, sprinkled liberally with brandy, wrapped in cloth, and stored in round wooden cheese boxes until Christmas. As the weather cooled, beef cattle were slaughtered and dressed. Then one cold day in late November, when the ground was hard and icicles hung from the windmill, and dead grass and hedges were stiff and white with frost, there was the first hog-killing of the winter. There would be another in January, but this was the more exciting and festive one, because it was such a long time since everybody had tasted fresh pork: chops and backbone, chitterlings, souse, blood pudding, trotters and ears that were boiled and brined, fresh sausage, and link sausage and hams that were hung in the smokehouse to cure.

It was a hard-working day, but a happy one too, and everyone on the plantation either participated or watched, bundled into heavy sweaters, with wool stockings or caps to keep heads warm. Thirty large, fat hogs were killed and dressed. The air was heavy with the smell of woodsmoke and boiling fat being rendered into lard and cracklings in the wash pots the laundresses used for their work in more ordinary times. Bladders were made into balloons by the children, who raced about to keep warm, laughing and shrieking, glad for once to do whatever mean chores were required of them, for it was a happy thing to be employed that day; it gave even the children a feeling of importance.

Cows bawled balefully at the smell of fire and blood, and barnyard fowl were quiet as on a cloudy day. Dogs hung about, careful to keep out of the way but ready to grab at whatever was discarded and dropped to the ground.

In the kitchen of the big house Deborah and Lovey supervised the grinding of sausage meat and the blending of seasonings for it. Pauline watched them carefully, learning and remembering everything she saw. Cook made souse and blood pudding with the help of Clovis and Myrtis. Every man, woman, and child would eat fresh pork that day, and sleep well that night, tired from the long day’s work and excitement.

Next morning Clovis, who had known it for some time but denied the knowledge, admitted to herself that she was pregnant. She went to Maggie, who was so old she did no work except what pleased her in and about her own cabin. Age had brought her a reputation for knowing certain witchy ways to foster love, to tell the future, and to get rid of a baby. Maggie smoked her pipe and listened to the girl but said nothing until Clovis handed her a paper sack of sugar she had sneaked from the kitchen. Everyone knew Maggie’s craving for sugar. When supplied with it, the old woman sometimes ate it straight from its bag with a spoon.