“Breeze——” her husky little voice made his name a new thing. He could feel a smile twitch at his mouth. “Breeze—if you’d find peace, you wouldn’ be scared to git baptized?”
Breeze knelt beside her and he glowed, all on fire with courage now. “Who? Me? Lawd, I ain’ scared o’ nothin’. Not nothin’!”
Emma’s eyes widened with wonder and respect for his boasting. “You ain’ scared o’ nothin’ in de world?”
Breeze turned his head and spat far away like a grown-up man. “Not nothin’ in de world.”
Breaths of hot air drove the clouds along over their heads. A grasshopper played shrill faint music, a dove mourned softly, the corn blades rustled gently.
Breeze dropped her hand and grasped her thin shoulders, but she tore herself from his hold with a breathless laugh. Then he caught her arm, but she was stronger than he thought. The muscles in her small arm tightened under his fingers and, wriggling herself loose, Emma went flying down the corn row, calling back mockingly, daringly:
“Better go on an’ pray. A witch might git you!”
And Breeze answered boldly, his fear of God and the Devil all forgotten,
“I ain’ gwine pray. No! Wait on me, Emma! Don’ run so fast! You t’ink you kin outrun me! Good Lawd, you can’ do dat! I’ll show you so right now!”