In Father’s absence, Joe runs everything. He sets out the work schedules; he plants the crops; he runs the dairy; he oversees the workers; he does whatever repair jobs need doing. Joe is very black and very tall, a giant well over six feet while Father barely clears five. “Well, I can’t help but laugh,” Aunty Rogers told Rosalie once, “when I see them two try to put their heads together.”

When she was four or so, Rosalie asked Joe why he was so dark and he told her he was descended from the royal house of Madagascar. It had thrilled Rosalie to think that a lost prince was tilling Father’s fields.

She continued to daydream about it. For a while she inked in the faces of royals on Father’s playbills—Hamlet and Richard and even Othello, whom Father played darker than most, but never nearly as black as Joe. She’d imagined Joe restored to his kingdom, possibly through her connivance, the role she’d have in his court. She’d altered the stories she knew about King Arthur to fit, tried to think how Joe might prove his claim. He was terribly strong. Pulling a sword from a stone would be almost too easy. Possibly he’d kept something, a brooch his mother had pinned to his swaddling clothes, something he could now produce. Possibly he had a birthmark by which he could be identified as the rightful king, not something she could ask him, but not impossible. Rosalie loved to imagine the court gathered as she herself argued his case, their suspicions turning gradually to joy. Something would have to be done about his name, of course. She’d never heard of a King Joe.

As infants, all the children slept in beautiful wicker baskets Joe made for them. As youngsters, they trailed him about the farm like ducklings. As adolescents, they love him no less, but they begin to find his lack of education, his grandiose claims, and his interminable stories amusing. They entertain each other imitating his speech. As an adult, Asia will refer to him fondly as faithful. Their faithful old Joe.

—

Joe’s wife is a slave on the Rogers estate. Not Aunty and Elijah Rogers, but the larger estate of Elijah’s father, Rowland Rogers. With Father’s wages, Joe is slowly gathering the five hundred dollars Ann will cost. Rosalie can’t wait for this to happen. Then Ann will finally live here on the farm with Joe. Then their babies will be free born.

They have two children already, two girls—Lucinda and little Mary Ellen—both of whom belong to Rowland Rogers. Ann is pregnant again and this baby, too, will be his.

Ann and Joe do nothing but work, not just on the farm, but anywhere they can find a job—sewing, carpentry, fieldwork, and farming—but a day has only so many hours in it. The pennies are slow to accumulate. Rosalie hears Ann talking with Mother. It makes sense for Joe to buy Ann first, since that will mean freedom for any babies that follow. But the children would be cheaper, and, should Rogers have a bad harvest, he’s more likely to sell them. So should they buy Lucinda as soon as they can or the baby as soon as it arrives? Or should they keep saving for Ann?