I STEWED OVER THE ENCOUNTER with Knox and Bowden most of the afternoon. I’d been careless in aiding Gray, but I couldn’t stand by and do nothing because that made me no better than Rufus and his men. I had to intercede. I’d done the right thing.

Life forced me to grow up fast without a mother, and with a father who was gone more than he was home. I was a dreamer and a thinker, often involving myself in the rights and the wrongs of the world around me. I questioned life as a whole. Only in recent years did I question the ways of the South. How did slavery begin? Talk about groups in the North calling themselves abolitionist was becoming more frequent. The changes these people were speaking of made the plantation owners nervous and angry. What if slavery was abolished? How would the plantations and farmers in the South make a living? It would affect their way of life. I developed a maturity beyond my years and a voice Father often tried to silence. I believe he thought of me as the bane of his existence.

“Come on, old boy.” I patted our cocker spaniel Beau’s head. Knowing I had avoided the situation with Parker, the boy caught stealing eggs, for long enough, I set out to deal with that task.

I found Parker’s father busy sanding the shelves of a pantry Mammy requested he make. “Good afternoon, Owen.” I offered a weary smile.

The white-haired man looked up from his work then straightened, rolling his shoulder to ease the ache from being hunched over too long. He craned his neck and called over his shoulder, “Parker, get on out here, boy. Miss Willow is here to deal wid your thievin’.”

I couldn’t contain the feeling of doom that settled over me.

Owen smiled softly. “Et be all right. Parker needs to larn dat stealin’ ain’t right, no matter who he is takin’ from.”

Parker appeared from the back of the woodshed, worry knitting his young brow at what was in store for him. His unruly hair stood up on end. He was slight for his ten years. He used a walking cane to support the slack in his left leg.

“Parker, Mr. Hendricks says you were caught taking eggs from the henhouse. Is this so?” I gave him the sternest expression I could muster.

“I reckon so, Miss Willow.” He hung his head in shame, not daring to look up at me.

“What do you suppose I should do about this? You could get yourself in heaps of trouble with Mr. Hendricks, or any other master, for that matter. They could starve you, whip you, cut off your hand, or even cut off your good leg…maybe even sell you to a new master.”

Parker’s head whipped up as terror transformed his face. I knew my message had struck a chord.

“Father is going to be asking me what punishment I dealt you, and I need to have an answer or we will both be in trouble. Come on; we may as well get this over with.”

He hobbled over to me, his brown eyes huge with worry.

“Hand me your walking cane and bend over that log.” I pointed to the makeshift sawhorse behind him.

He hesitantly bent over and his butt cheeks tightened in anticipation of what was coming next. He let out a howl as the cane made contact. In two sharp, quick strikes I administered his punishment.

“Now, young man, what will you not do again?”

He looked up at me, tears pooling in his dark eyes. I gulped back the tears welling in my throat. I hated this; it broke my heart.

“I’ll never take eggs again.”

“And?” I elevated my quavering voice, awaiting the correct answer.

“I ain’t gonna steal anything again,” he wailed.

“Good boy, now run along.”

His eyes widened and he ceased his pitiful wail. “Dat’s et?”

Relief washed through me as he flung himself at me, squeezing me around the waist.

“Parker!” Owen strode over and removed his son’s arms from me. “Forgive da boy, Miss Willow. In his happiness, he has done gone and forgot his place.” Thinking he’d done it for sure now, dread filled Parker’s face.

“Pay it no mind,” I assured him, and turned to Parker. “Will you do me a favor, Parker?”

“Yessum.” His sweet face relaxed.

“Let’s keep this our secret. What do you say?”

“Yessum. I ain’t goin’ be tellin’ a soul. No sirree, I be takin’ dat up to de big man in de sky.” He jabbed his cane at the sky.

“Good.” I held out my hand for him to shake.

His jaw dropped, then he pushed a small hand out and vigorously returned my handshake.

I bade them a good day and left. I overheard the exchange between father and son as I walked away.

“She could have you tied to de post and whipped for dat. Boy, you got to ’member your place. You never touch a white ’oman! Ever!”

“Yes, Pappy, but I’m jus’ so happy.”

“I know, son, I know.” Owen’s voice carried an undertone of relief and happiness of his own.