CHAPTER ONE

Eastern Maryland
Wednesday, November 15, 1854
Sundown

Ann shivered. The cold was everywhere. The dirt floor of her family’s one-room cabin was almost as cold as the November air. Earlier the sun and hard work in the field had kept her warm, but now Ann had to move closer to the cook fire. It didn’t help. She would have to wait for the fire’s warmth to fill the cabin.

“Ann, don’t get too close, now,” said Mama.

Ann pulled her feet back just enough to put Mama at ease.

Mama was a strong woman who always said her children were the most important thing in the world. She said no matter what Master Adam thought, they were her children, not his. Just because they were slaves didn’t mean he owned their hearts or their souls.

Daddy always said Mama had a fire burning inside and that it was where she got her strength. But the fire inside Mama was burning out. It had started two months ago when Granny died. Mama barely ever smiled now, and she never hummed while she cooked anymore. Losing her mama had broken her heart.

Ann missed the old Mama even more than she missed Granny. If she had one wish, she’d bring Granny back to them. That way Mama would come back too.

Daddy sat down on the ground next to Ann and let out a groan, the same way he did every night. His back was tired. Their family had spent all day pulling dried cornstalks from the hardened soil in the field.

Paul sat down where he didn’t fit—right between Ann and Daddy. He was only five, and he couldn’t stand to be more than three feet from somebody. He was scared of everything too. Maybe that’s why he couldn’t let himself be alone.

“Ann,” said Mama, “hold the baby.” Mama handed baby Elizabeth to Ann. As soon as she did, Elizabeth started to cry.

“She doesn’t like me,” said Ann.

Daddy laughed. “She doesn’t like anyone but Paul and your Mama.”

Mama sighed and said, “She misses Granny.”

Elizabeth had been born during the last apple harvest, in early fall. She was twelve years younger than Ann. Two weeks later, Granny had died from an infection.

When Daddy came into the cabin the day after Granny died, he had found the baby screaming in one corner and Mama crying in the other. Ann hadn’t known what to do so she’d sat by the fire with Paul and stayed out of the way.

Daddy had gotten Mama and Elizabeth calmed down and asked Ann to come outside to the garden with him. He had looked at Ann with a serious face.

“Ann,” he’d said, “do you remember what Granny always called you?”

Ann had nodded. “She called me an old soul.”

“Granny was convinced you’d been here before,” Daddy had told her.

Granny had always said things that didn’t make sense to Ann. “What does that mean, Daddy?” Ann had asked.

Daddy had chuckled and put his hand on her shoulder. “It means you’re an old lady in a little girl’s body.”

Ann liked the idea of being like a grown-up, but not the idea of being an old lady. She had tried to figure out why Granny thought that, but Daddy had interrupted her thinking.

“You’re going to have to be grown-up and help your mama,” Daddy had said.

Ann had nodded again and followed Daddy back inside—and she had spent the last month or so trying as hard as she could to keep her promise to Daddy. If Mama needed help, Ann would help her.

So Ann held the baby, even though it was her least favorite job. It was a job nobody could do right, and Ann liked to do things right.

Elizabeth squirmed and hollered. “Shhh,” said Ann. She bounced Elizabeth a little bit, like Mama did, but it didn’t work.

Finally dinner was ready. Mama gave everyone a strip of pork and a piece of ashcake. Then she took the baby back from Ann and sat down.

Dinner in their cabin was almost always quiet. By the end of the day, Daddy was too tired, Mama was too sad, and Ann was too hungry to talk. Paul always had something to say, but someone usually shushed him.

Ann stared off while she chewed on her ashcake. She loved the way the sweet cornmeal taste broke through the ashes from the fire that covered it. Something in the corner of the cabin caught her eye—a spider!

Daddy said Ann was as brave and steady as any grown man he’d ever known, but she was afraid of spiders. “Daddy,” she whispered. “A spider.”

Daddy sighed. “Where?”

“Over there!” said Paul. “I see it.”

Paul was trying to act like he was being helpful, but Ann knew better. He wanted Daddy to get the spider just as badly as Ann did. Paul didn’t like anything that crawled. During tomato season, he had to pick the worms off the crops, and he cried the whole time he did it.

The only reason he did it at all was because he was more afraid of the overseer than the worms. The overseer watched the slaves’ every move while they worked in the fields, and he was mean.

When Paul had turned four and was big enough to help in the fields, he had seen the overseer whip Daddy. There was a lot to be afraid of on this farm, and bugs were the least of them. Sometimes Ann heard the older slaves talk about running away from Maryland. They said up north they could be free.

“Get it!” yelled Paul. He pointed at the spider.

“Shhh,” said Mama.

Daddy groaned again as he got up. He walked over and squished the spider. “I don’t know how you get through a day’s work,” he said. “Nothing but bugs in the fields.”

Ann didn’t answer. Outside she did what she had to do. Inside she felt safer. Inside she could ask Daddy to get a spider. Inside she could be a child.

After dinner Ann and Paul got into their sleeping spots. They slept on the ground on a small bed of hay. They lay halfway between the wall and the fire. Mama didn’t want them to get burned, and they didn’t want to be next to the cold cabin walls. The walls were made of logs, and the evening chill snuck in through the spaces.

Paul always scooted closer to Ann before he fell asleep. Sometimes she rolled away. Tonight his warmth felt good, so she let him stay close.

Paul started snoring about three minutes later. Mama sat up and nursed the baby, while Papa rubbed his feet and stared at the fire.

Ann always fell asleep watching her parents. She liked for them to be the last thing she saw every night and the first thing she saw every morning. She knew a lot of slave owners sold people away from their families. She never forgot to be grateful that hadn’t happened to hers. Her eyelids began to feel heavy.

Just then, Ann thought she heard somebody whisper her daddy’s name: “John.”

Mama said, “Did you hear that?”

The voice came again, from outside the cabin. “John. You awake?”

Ann was wide awake again. No one ever came by this late. All the slaves turned in early, because they were all afraid to oversleep. If they weren’t in the field at sunrise, they might be beaten.

Daddy got up and disappeared through the door. Ann heard whispers outside, but she couldn’t hear the words. She looked at Mama’s worried face and had a feeling her own face looked just as worried.

When Daddy came back in, his face drooped.

“John, what is it?” asked Mama.

Daddy squatted down and put his arm around Mama. He didn’t answer her. Instead he stared at the baby. A single tear rolled down his cheek.

Mama stood up and faced him. “What?” she asked again.

Daddy looked at where Ann and Paul slept. Ann shut her eyes, so he’d think she was asleep too.

“Bad news,” said Daddy.

Ann’s heart sped up. She hoped nobody had died. She was just getting used to life without Granny. Ann held her breath so she could hear Daddy better.

“Daniel said that Sarah overheard Master Adam talking in the big house,” said Daddy.

Ann liked Daniel a lot. He was Daddy’s best friend. He lived in the cabin next door and his wife, Sarah, cooked for Master Adam’s family.

“What did he say?” asked Mama.

“He’s come on hard times. Money’s short,” said Daddy.

Mama started to cry. Ann didn’t understand why Mama was this upset about Master Adam’s money. The silence went on so long Ann opened one eye to see what her parents were doing. Daddy had his arms around Mama. Elizabeth was in between them, fast asleep.

“Who?” asked Mama.

To Ann, it seemed like a strange thing to ask. Did somebody take Master Adam’s money? Maybe Mama and Daddy were worried one of them would be blamed.

Daddy whispered, “Ann and Paul.”

Mama crumbled to the ground. Daddy caught the sleeping baby as she fell. Mama’s whole body shook. “Not my babies,” she said. “Not my babies.”

Us? thought Ann. We don’t even know where Master Adam keeps his money.

Ann watched her parents through one eye. Daddy got down next to Mama and rubbed her shoulder. Mama jerked up onto her knees. She put her face so close to Daddy’s, Ann thought they were going to kiss.

“You have to do something. You can’t let him sell my children,” said Mama.