Page from a Tennessee Journal (AmazonEncore Edition)

could see that. White men don’t like to lose no money. He had to hire him an extra man just fo’ the harvest.” She ran out of air and had to stop to gulp in more.
    “And?” Agitation rumbled in his chest. John turned to watch Cleveland.
    The pitchfork lowered a fraction.
    “I thought you was never comin’ back. That I was too plain for a man like you.” Her voice roamed over the loft. “That hired man make me feel like somethin’ special. He talked real nice to me. Said sweet things to me.” Annalaura struggled to grab in enough air to get out the rest of her words.
    A pain thumped across John’s chest.
    “He wasn’t good like you…you know…in the night.” She gained control of her voice. “But I was lonely. He made me feel like a woman again.” The tears started to fall.
    Something wasn’t right. Had his wife betrayed him with two men? Whose baby was this?
    “The hired man? You laid with the hired man?” He advanced on her again. “If you is lying to me, Annalaura, I’ll kill you.” The pitchfork dug in deep enough to draw blood. John didn’t care. “Where the hell is this Negro? What’s his name? I’ll beat the truth out of him, myself.” He wanted to retrieve his valise from the buggy. His pistol lay inside.
    The hard-to-understand words came out of Annalaura’s mouth again.
    “He ain’t from around here. Kentucky. Gone back. Ask anybody.” Her lips were now so swollen that he could barely hear her at all.
    What was the truth? Had his wife slept, on purpose, with a colored hired man? Or, had she been forced into bed by a white man? She was lying, but about which one? He wanted to kill her and he wanted to take her in his arms all at the same time. He wanted to tell her how much he loved her. He turned to Cleveland.
    “Son, I ain’t gonna hit yo’ momma no mo’. But I ain’t lettin’ her keep all this trash either. You can hold that pitchfork on me all you like, but I’m throwing this junk outta here.” John grabbed the kitchen chair from Annalaura’s hands, walked to the landing, and tossed it down the ladder. “Doug, you and Lottie help me get rid of this mess while Cleveland keeps hold of that pitchfork.” As he swept up the new dishes, he turned to his wife.
    “I ain’t sure who you laid with, but I do know it won’t be me ’til I kill whoever he be. I ain’t stayin’ here tonight.”

CHAPTER TWENTY
     
    “Why did Papa throw my dolly away?” Lottie sat on the floor in front of Cleveland’s alcove, her chin on Annalaura’s shoulder.
    Henry had his head in his mother’s lap, his fingers rubbing at a spot of blood on her dress.
    “Papa bought you a better doll, a prettier doll.” It took all of Annalaura’s fast-ebbing strength to calm her children’s fears as she waited for John to thunder back into the house.
    Her husband and Doug had wrestled almost everything Alex had given her down the ladder and out of the barn. The commotion had set the cows to mooing. John had even tried to dislodge the potbellied stove but, thankfully, even in his frantic state, he had realized that he couldn’t put his hands on a red-hot stove. All of the clothes, pots, pans, toys, and especially the bed linens had been bundled up and dropped straight down the ladder opening. Annalaura reckoned that a better part of an hour had passed since John began sweeping the loft clean.
    “But, why can’t I keep both dolls?” Lottie, the tear tracks barely dry on her face, kicked at the doll John had pulled from his valise, knocking off one of the button eyes in the process.
    Lottie had screamed in confusion and fright when her father snatched the other doll from her hands.
    “Why is Papa mad at us, Momma?” Henry raised up from her lap and let his hand dab lightly at the swelling place on her cheek. “Did we do somethin’ very, very bad?” Fright leapt out of the boy’s eyes.
    Annalaura laid her hand against his skinny wrist and let her youngest’s open palm rest on her bruised cheek.
    “Hush, now, both of you. Papa’s not mad at any of you all.” She slipped an arm around Lottie and pulled her tighter, though Annalaura’s ribs pained her so much she could barely take in a breath.
    “Papa’s mad at Cleveland. I know he is ’cause Cleve’s ’bout to stick him with that fork.” Lottie started to whimper.
    “No such thing. It’s just that Papa’s been gone so long, and he left me to take care of everthin’ here and I didn’t do a good ’nough job of it. It’s