Page from a Tennessee Journal (AmazonEncore Edition)

me Papa’s mad at, not you all.” She hugged both children, but this time she couldn’t stop the little cry of pain that made its way out of her mouth.
    “But you took care of us good, Momma. Why ain’t Papa happy?” Lottie ran her hand over Annalaura’s torn dress.
    “I done the best I could, but it’s not what Papa wanted. He’ll be mad fo’ a little while, then he’ll be back laughin’ and playin’ with you children befo’ you know it.” Annalaura didn’t believe a word she had just uttered. Maybe these two young ones would take her story for truth, but Doug and Cleveland would be ten times harder to convince.
    “He gone, Momma. Say he won’t be back ’til he ki…” Doug, just clearing the last rung of the ladder, looked toward the little group sitting on the floor. “He say he won’t be back ’til after he k-i-l-l the man.”
    Annalaura closed her eyes and wondered why she wanted to smile when Armageddon was falling all over her head. Thanks to Alex, her second son had finished a whole year of school, and the colored teacher told her that Doug could read, write, do his numbers, and spell better than most third graders.
    “How you know he gone?” She let her sore face brush the top of Lottie’s pigtails.
    “He made me pile everthin’ down by the lane and he took off in his buggy. He say he might k-i-l-l him two men.” Doug dropped to the floor in front of Annalaura. He pushed the heads of Lottie and Henry deeper into their mother’s body. “He took his pistol with him.”
    Annalaura had shown tears to John, but that was just to buy herself time to work out a plan that would keep her hotheaded husband alive. She tried to move the little ones away, but fell back against the alcove.
    “What’s the matter, Momma?” Henry jumped off her lap. “I won’t hurt you. I won’t hurt you, never.” He threw his arms around her neck sending shoots of pain through half her body.
    She kissed the tip of his ear. “Help me get to my feet. We got to go.”
    With Doug pulling and Lottie and Henry pushing, she struggled upright.
    “Get yo’ coats.” Then, she remembered.
    John had taken all their clothes, except what they had on their backs. “Never mind.”
    “Momma, where is we goin’?” Doug went down first and waited for Lottie, then Henry, to follow.
    “Aunt Becky’s.” Annalaura started down. With each step jarring something loose in her belly.
     
     
    The sun told her the time was about five o’clock, and the white farmers at the planting dinner should be heading to the Lawnover tavern for more celebrating. With the misery of her swelling eye shooting pain down the side of her face, Annalaura focused on the day of the week. Today was one of the times Alex had agreed to stay away from the barn, but he had made a poor job of honoring his promise to visit no more than one night a week. Most weeks, he came three, and sometimes four, evenings. Some nights, he just laid with her in his arms, whispering sweet things, and nothing more. Those were the times when she most had to remind herself just who Alex was.
    Her feet weren’t carrying her as fast as she needed. Now, everything on her hurt, and it had taken her almost five minutes to walk the little distance down the path to the lane. Standing over the pile of the family’s former belongings, she spotted Cleveland, the pitchfork still in his hands. She saw little Lottie crane her neck toward the pile, her eyes searching for her lost doll. When Annalaura finally reached her eldest son, she slipped an arm around his shoulders and kissed his forehead.
    “I knows you is too big to kiss, but I thanks you fo’ what you done today.” She whispered. “But I don’t never want to see, nor hear tell, of you raisin’ a hand against yo’ father again. This fuss is between him and me. It ain’t got nothin’ to do with you.” She let him go but kept a hand on his shoulder.
    “I ain’t never gonna let any man beat you like that ever again.” Cleveland wagged his head at her.
    “Cleveland, this ain’t yo’ worry, but I do have to ask a big favor of you.” She squeezed the back of his shoulder. “I wants you to tell these words to Mr. Alex ’xactly like I tells them to you.” The top of her boy’s head still only came to the tip of her nose. To Annalaura, he was still her baby.
    “Yes’m.” His voice sounded deeper.
    “Now, I’m thinkin’ Mr. Alex shouldn’t be botherin’ us tonight, but if he do come, this is what I