Page from a Tennessee Journal (AmazonEncore Edition)

of curious eyes.
     
     
    The gray halted at the barn door. Alex slid off. He peered over at the buckboard as he flattened himself against the barn wall. He sidestepped toward Eula’s buggy. The black silhouette, with its high seat, stood undisturbed. Alex stared inside the open contraption. Empty. He let his eyes travel to the undercarriage. Nothing. With the gun cocked and pointed, he checked the front wheels. No change. He slipped along the side of the buckboard toward the back wheels. Snap. His shoulders tensed and his breath stuck in his chest. Gurgling for air, he raised his gun arm, sighted as best he could, and aimed his pistol into the darkness. A raccoon ran from the back of the barn and straight into the wheel of Eula’s buggy. Creak. The stunned animal staggered away. Alex sucked in a mouthful of air. “Hell, ain’t nothin’ but a coon.” He laughed out on a burst of air as he lowered his gun arm. Alex shrugged that burst of fear off his shoulders as he moved to the front of the barn. “All right, horse. Let’s get you settled in for the night.”
     
     
    John’s breath came in spurts. McNaughton ought to be dead. But the way Annalaura had lied to protect the man…All that new stuff McNaughton had given her? White men didn’t give black women fancy presents unless they were sweet on them. More gall coated his throat. He did Rebecca’s seven-swallow routine in quick succession. Was that the truth of it? That fool white man had real feelings for Annalaura? He leaned against the back of the barn, both hands clutching his stomach. John’s chest burned, and his head felt like it was going to cave in on itself. Annalaura, Henry, Lottie. Cleveland. Doug. Even McNaughton. They all did a whirly-twirly dance before his eyes, each one reaching out a hand to squeeze his heart. That farmer ought to be for sure dead, but McNaughton was nowhere near good enough to take the lives of John’s four children to the grave with him. His breathing slowed, and his head quit throbbing. The Annalaura ’Parition began a slow fade into the blackness of the night. If white men found out McNaughton had honest-to-God feelings for a colored woman and was careless enough to let them show, they’d kill him themselves. One thing to use her, another thing to love her. The sweat began to dry on John’s forehead. His lips forced themselves into a crooked smile. “This white man ain’t worth it. Not if the price is my four babies. Not even An…” Leave his killing to those of his own kind.
     
     
    With the gray settled for the night, Alex walked through the porch door, a half smile twitching across his lips. He’d pull out that old cradle and get it set up for his new baby. His own Dolly. Tomorrow he’d have both mother and child with him. The porch door snapped closed behind him.
     
     
    John waited fifteen minutes by his pocket watch. He never did see a lamp relit upstairs. But at least two more lamps blazed on the first floor. Whatever that white man was up to would do him no good come morning. McNaughton could live. For now. But he’d never have Annalaura. John bent double and made his way back to the main road and the rental horse.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
     
    That first pale light of dawn filtered under Eula’s eyelids and gently brought her out of sleep. But before she let the day come into focus, she stretched out an arm to search for that unfamiliar tingling “down there.” It had been with her through all of yesterday with its heart-pumping exhilaration. She wanted to revel in that strange pleasure as long as she could. Disappointed that it was fading, she re-created the memory of that amazing night in her mind. Even though Alex hadn’t been beside her in the morning when she rolled over to greet the new day, she had been filled with such pleasure and awe that she paid little mind that he hadn’t shown up back at the house ’til close to suppertime.
    He had gone to Clarksville, he announced upon his return, and brought back a package wrapped in brown butcher paper. She didn’t believe she’d shown him impatience when he said she’d have to wait until tomorrow for its opening, but everything she thought she knew about her husband had turned inside out. The man who had been as predictable as the planting and prayer dinner had become a man of surprises.
    Eula let her eyes drift to the first light at the window as she remembered her excited anticipation of last night. That she had to wait until morning