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“The hell I do! Every man in town got ‘em a nigra wench. Alright, so I didn’tseeyour daddy with her, but I heard what he said plain as day. So, if it’s a lie he told it.”
“Take it back.”
Marcus squinted at me through mean, beady eyes. “The hell I will,” he said, his voice low and threatening. “And if you don’t like it, you know what to do. In the meantime, I have business with that nigra bitch right there.”
Turning his back on me, Marcus started running after Jeyne but I threw myself against him and knocked him to the ground. Marcus outweighed me by fifty pounds but I was taller and stronger. Years of running, swimming and horseback riding had toned and strengthened every muscle in my body. He tried to fight me, but I pulled his arm as far back as it would go. I felt his joint dislocate from his arm but I was too busy punching him in his back to fully comprehend what had happened.
That’s when he let out a blood-curdling scream. Slaves who had been working nearby came running and yelling, but I couldn’t stop hitting him. I wanted nothing more than to inflict as much pain upon him as I possibly could. I heard more voices and the sounds of horse hoofs, and suddenly, rough hands were pulling me to my feet.
“What in God's name is going on here?”
My father had a firm grip on my arm, but I was too angry to answer him. Tall, with penetrating blue eyes, William White was the sort of man who demanded and received respect.
“He broke my arm!” Marcus yelled out, his left arm dangling low at his side.
Lawrence ran to his son. “My God, it is broke!”
“Well, don’t just stand there!” my father yelled to Jeb who had come running over. “Get him inside!”
“Don’t put your dirty nigra hands on my boy!” Lawrence shouted at Jeb, whose fists were now clenched.
“Useless nigra,” Lawrence said, fumbling for his son. “I got him.”
As they passed, I shot Marcus a threatening look and he turned away, knowing he had made an enemy for life.
“You should see yourself,” my father said moments later. “Looking like a commoner from the rat docks.”
I was sitting in his study holding a damp, white cloth against the arm that had been cut during the scuffle. My clothes were disheveled and covered in dirt.
“What the hell were you thinking?”
“Don’t ask me, ask him,” I said.
“I’m askingyou!”
“I don’t want to discuss it.”
“You’re this close to being sent Stanton, you know that?”
Stanton was an old military academy in Biloxi, Mississippi, one which prided itself on the mental acuity and discipline of its cadets, many of whom endured cruel and demeaning physical punishment before they were shoved out into the world.
“He started it,” I protested.
My father looked me up and down in disgust. “I raised you better.”
I was beyond mad. “So, what am I to do, pretend to like him just to make everyone feel better?”
“Whatever issues you have with the Riley boy, you keep them to yourself. His daddy has things I need, and I amnotgoing to let you ruin it. Do you understand?”
I looked away but he came towards me. “Isaid, do you understand?”
“Yes.”
“Yes, what?”
“Yes,sir.”
Turning away from me, my father stormed off in the direction of the guest room where Marcus was laid up. As I watched him walk away in his polished riding boots and brown, frock coat, I frowned. What was so maddening about this whole situation was not only Marcus’ attempt to go after Jeyne, but his revelation about my father having another woman. The thought of such a possibility seeped deep inside my consciousness never to leave me. It had driven home the ugliness of plantation life and forced me to look at my father with new eyes.
