The storekeeper ran into the library and began to call on the phone. Talbot looked at Cora standing in the center of the room. “Where’s Norwood’s car? In the barn? Talk, you black wench, talk!”

But Cora didn’t say a word. She watched the two white men rush out of the house into the yard. In a few minutes, she heard the roar of a motor hurtling down the road. It was dark outside. Night had come.

Cora turned toward the body on the floor. “My boy,” she said, “he can’t get to de swamp now. They telephoned the white folks down that way to head him off. He’ll come back home.” She called aloud, “Colonel Tom, why don’t you get up from there and help me? You know they’re after our boy. You know they got him out there runnin’ from de white folks in de night. Runnin’ from de hounds and de guns and de ropes and all what they uses to kill poor niggers with…. Ma boy’s out there runnin’. Why don’t you help him?” Cora bent over the body. “Colonel Tom, you hear me? You said he was ma boy, ma bastard boy. I heard you. But he’s your’n, too—out yonder in de dark runnin’—from your people. Why don’t you get up and stop ’em? You know you could. You’s a power in Polk County. You’s a big man, and yet our son’s out there runnin’—runnin’ from po’ white trash what ain’t worth de little finger o’ nobody’s got your blood in ’em, Tom.” Cora shook the dead body fiercely. “Get up from there and stop ’em, Colonel Tom.” But the white man did not move.

Gradually Cora stopped shaking him. Then she rose and backed away from this man she had known so long. “You’s cruel, Tom,” she whispered. “I might a-knowed it—you’d be like that, sendin’ ma boy out to die. I might a-knowed it ever since you beat him that time under de feet of de horses. Well, you won’t mistreat him no more now. That’s finished.” She went toward the steps. “I’m gonna make a place for him. Upstairs under ma bed. He’s ma chile, and I’ll look out for him. And don’t you come in ma bedroom while he’s up there. Don’t you come to my bed either no more a-tall. I calls for you to help me now, Tom, and you just lays there. I calls you to get up now, and you don’t move. Whenever you called me in de night, I woke up. Whenever you wanted me to love you, I reached out ma arms to you. I bored you five children and now,” her voice rose hysterically, “one of ’em’s out yonder runnin’ from your people. Our youngest boy’s out yonder in de dark, runnin’! I ’spects you’s out there, too, with de rest of de white folks. Uh-um! Bert’s runnin’ from you, too. You said he warn’t your’n—Cora’s po’ little yellow bastard. But he is your’n, Colonel Tom, and he’s runnin’ from you. Yes, out yonder in de dark, you, you runnin’ our chile with a gun in yo’ hand, and Talbot followin’ behind you with a rope to hang Bert with.” She leaned against the wall near the staircase, sobbing violently. Then she went back toward the man on the floor. Her sobs gradually ceased as she looked down at his crumpled body. Then she said slowly, “Listen, I been sleepin’ with you too long not to know that this ain’t you, Tom, layin’ down here with yo’ eyes shut on de floor. You can’t fool me—you ain’t never been so still like this before—you’s out yonder runnin’ ma boy! Colonel Thomas Norwood runnin’ ma boy through de fields in de dark, runnin’ ma po’ little helpless Bert through de fields in de dark for to lynch him and to kill him…. God damn you, Tom Norwood!” Cora cried, “God damn you!”