Bill’s eyes were round. He swallowed, licking out his tongue.
“I gotta get back to mah plowin’, Massa. Look! Hit’s sun-up.” With a limp hand he indicated the sun shooting its beams over the eastern woods and turned vaguely away.
“Come back here, you fool! He’s killing me!”
A flash of interest flickered across the broad, flat face. Bill took several steps forward. Frederick fixed him with a baleful gaze and spoke through clenched teeth.
“Don’t you put your hands on me!”
Bill sagged. “My God, ye crazy coon, I ain’t a-gonna tech ye!” And he shuffled around the barn.
Covey cursed. He could not free himself. The boy was like a slippery octopus, imprisoning him with his arms and legs.
Frederick was panting now. His heart sank when he saw Caroline. She must have been milking in the shed, for she carried a brimming pail. Covey could make her help him. She really was a powerful woman, and Frederick knew she could master him easily now, exhausted as he was.
Covey, too, saw her and called out confidently. Caroline stopped. She set down the pail of milk. Covey relaxed, an evil grin on his face.
And then—Caroline laughed! It wasn’t loud or long; but Covey sucked in his breath at the sound.