Breeze hurried forward obediently, not that April had ever mistreated him, or even scolded him, but because he knew that April ruled everybody and everything on the plantation with a heavy hand. People, beasts, even plants and insects, had to bend to his stubborn will, or suffer.
“Hey, Sherry!” April called. “Come dis way! Left Clara whe’ e is! Git a move on you, too!”
April was rarely unjust, and sometimes he was almost gentle, but now his voice stung the air. Sherry had better not vex him further, or there’d be trouble.
Although Sherry walked without hurry, he was out of breath when he reached April. His hands shook a little as men do when a chill is about to seize them.
“How come you butt Brudge?” April asked him coldly.
“You ought to be glad I butt em. Brudge is a no-manners scoundrel.”
“If he done wrong, whyn’ you tell me?”
“I ain’ no news carrier.”
April’s eyes glittered as he shifted his hickory stick from one hand to the other.
“You ain’ Brudge’s daddy, you know?”