When I ask Calla what going happen she tell me she don’t know. ‘But we must be on the lookout. Make sure bad luck don’t catch any of us.’

I try not to, but me keep thinking bout that poor slave. Keep seeing him arm all broken, mash up in the roller. And when I do, it make me feel weak, like I going to vomit.

The only good thing bout the canefield, we get a chance to catch the rats that roam and scurry bout. Set traps and catch them good. We must chop off the tails. Bring them tails to Busha Davis. Let him pat us on the head when him tell us, ‘You are good little pickneys.’ Stand, wait, hold out our hand them till him give us a coin for every tail we bring him.

I don’t know what the other pickney do, but Stella, she get plenty mad if I don’t give her all me coin them. Plenty times I ask her what she going do with them.

But she tell me, ‘Hush up. Stop ask so many questions.’ Tell me, she saving them for me and Sammy future.

This future business? I don’t know bout that. What I do know is I try catch as many rats as I can. Try to make Stella happy. Wait to see the smile cross her face when she take them big fat rats, cook them up good. Then we have a big feed. Specially since sometimes, no rain coming and the provision ground get all dry, all dusty and there is little food to eat and we bellies growling loud from hunger.

By the time is crop-over, I forget bout Calla mutterings. Then one day, I notice little Pell sitting in the dirt playing, with him twisted smile. Pell still slow in the head and every year him seem to get slower. But Calla treat him no different.

I go over to see what him doing. Notice him playing with a buckle. A bright, shiny, silver buckle. Must be drop off Massa shoe. Suddenly Thomas come running up. Him turn big, strong, and him even more mean to little Pell than him is to me. Him push Pell face into the dirt, try to pull the buckle away. Pell get frighten start to make a whole lot of noise, whimpering and wailing. Stella come running out the Great House, hurry over. Pull me and Thomas aside, try to calm little Pell down. Too late, Busha Davis come rushing over.

‘What the devil is going on?’ him shout.

We all scatter except for Pell sitting in the dirt keep on bawling.

‘Can’t a gentleman get a little rest around here? Stop that unearthly noise. Stop it, I say.’ Him cuff Pell cross the head. Make him bawl even louder.