Knight's Crossing
©2006 Jess Mowry

Chapter One:

"All aboard!"

The conductor's voice sounded muffled and flat, as if he was calling through cotton bales instead of the hot steamy air. The engine hooted its whistle twice, then started chugging slowly away as if weary of working so hard in this heat but not knowing how to escape.

Ashley stood on the station platform, his new carpet-bag at his feet. He watched the train as it gathered speed and went puffing away through the vine-tangled trees, leaving only its smoke and the sweltering silence in memory of its three-minute stop. Ashley had almost forgotten this heat after spending a year in New Orleans, where he'd celebrated his fourteenth birthday only a few weeks ago. His white linen shirt clung uncomfortably tight to the rolly-round shapes of his chest, while sweat trickled down the sides of his face from under his curly blond shoulder-length hair. Nothing moved in this sun-haunted place, where even the trees seemed to droop in exhaustion beneath their long streamers of gray Spanish moss.

In fact, the land seemed eerily still: it was like the feeling in hurricane season before the strike of a storm.

Ashley sucked air as thick as molasses and wiped his face as he looked around. An old man dozed on a rough wooden bench, a battered slouch hat over his face... the same old man who'd been slumbering there when Ashley had left a year before. An equally ancient and dusty brown dog lay asleep at one end of the platform -- probably also the very same dog -- and a pair of black boys were sprawled in the shade beneath the leaky water tank. A telegraph chattered inside the office, making a drowsy insect sound. It was really about the only reminder that a world existed beyond Knight's Crossing.

Ashley struggled to pull out his watch, which wasn't the easiest thing to do because his stomach had prospered this year and hung way over his brown canvas trousers. It was mostly imprisoned within his shirt, though trying its best to escape; and the cave of his navel was deeply peeking where once a button had been. Ashley had always been chubby, but his aunt in 'Orleans owned an excellent cook, and the city was filled with cafes.

Ashley finally extracted his watch, silver, heavy, made for a boy, designed for rough-and-tumble use; a parting gift from his father last year so Ashley "wouldn't be late for school." Flipping open its sturdy cover, he saw it was 12:46. The train had arrived only ten minutes late, yet there was no one but the dozing old man, the slumbering dog, and the lazy black boys. No buggy stood waiting to meet him.

"Well, damn," Ashley muttered, mopping more sweat from a chipmunk-cheeked face that boasted the hint of a small second chin. He supposed he shouldn't have been surprised; it was just like lazy old Jupiter to fall asleep at the reins. Nothing at all had changed around here, and probably never would.

The little town of Knight's Crossing -- a dozen buildings surrounded by trees -- was only a few minutes walk from the station. But, Ashley didn't feel like walking, especially toting his heavy bag through the dust and this dammable heat. He supposed he could sit by the man on the bench, or go inside the waiting room, where at least it was shady if not any cooler, but he wanted something to eat. He'd had a big breakfast in New Orleans, and bought a beef sandwich aboard the train, but he'd grown accustomed to ample meals and now he was hungry for lunch.

He stuffed the watch back into his pocket and glanced at a rusty bucket and dipper that hung on a nail by the waiting room door. A sign above it said WHITE ONLY -- as if any nigger could read -- but the overflow from the water tank would probably taste a lot better. What would really taste good was a big mug of beer, nice and cool from the cellar at home. ...Where the devil was Jupiter?

The two black boys had noticed Ashley. They seemed to be around his own age, but both were shirtless, barefoot and dusty. One wore only the shreds of trousers, though the other boy's were in better condition. The boy in rags was beautifully muscled and rather handsomely dark chocolate-brown. His chest jutted out like cobblestones, while his biceps bulged like river rocks. The other boy was as black as coal and almost impossibly fat. His canvas trousers -- similar to Ashley's but three times the size -- were strained to the point of bursting their seams on legs that resembled oak tree trunks, while his belly both filled and spilled over his lap. The spherical shapes of his chest were enormous, and his huge body boasted as many rolls as one might find in a French bakery. He was surely an astonishing sight, and Ashley found himself wondering how a slave could have had gotten so fat.

The muscular youth rose to his feet and trotted up to Ashley, bringing the smells of boy-sweat and dust. He certainly should have been working somewhere instead of just lazing around.

"Carry your bag, suh?" he asked.

Ashley considered the offer: there was no way of knowing how long it would take for Jupiter to finally arrive. The town had a reasonably decent tavern that featured an ample free lunch; and even foolish old Jupiter would guess where Ashley had gone. But, Ashley shook his head.

"No thanks," he said, though not sure why. He dug in a pocket -- again with a struggle -- and handed the black boy a penny. Then, he picked up his bag and walked down the platform, feeling new sweat soaking into his shirt from the effort it took to move in this heat. He unfastened a few of the buttons, then stopped in front of the mammoth boy, who looked up from under his thick bush of hair with bright onyx eyes and the hint of a smile. His behind was so big and his trousers so small that he really sat on them instead of in them.

"Boy," said Ashley. "Y'all want to carry my bag into town?"

The enormous boy only widened his smile, a lazy, slow, and foxy expression... maybe how a fox would look if he had free run of a henhouse. "I'd really rather not, young suh."

Ashley felt his cheeks flush. He couldn't believe he'd heard the boy right! There were many freed slaves in New Orleans, and mulatto children were always free no matter how dark they were. Ashley had learned to be tolerant when blacks addressed him as if they were equal. But, that had been in a civilized city, not in his own home town!

Ashley fought down a flash of anger, which made him sweat all the more. "That really wasn't a question, boy," he said in a warning tone.

The gargantuan youth only heaved a huge sigh. "I s'pose not." He then took a minute to yawn and stretch, which made his vast body wobble all over like riverbank mud when a steamboat chugged past. "How much you pay me, young massa?"

"I might give you a penny," said Ashley. "If you don't give me any more sass."

The boy raised a soot-colored eyebrow. "Sorry, young suh. I just couldn't do it for less than a nickel." Then he grinned with startling teeth, like the oversize chompers of some mighty beast. "Why, other niggers would talk!"

Ashley's cheeks flashed like a railroad warning. "Who you belong to, boy?" he demanded.

The fat boy looked a little amused. "Ol' Massa Franklin out in the swamp."

"Then why aren't you out there working?" snapped Ashley.

"Massa Franklin give me this day, an' a nickel to buy me some candy. ...Suh."

Ashley glanced toward the tree-shrouded town, hoping to see the dust of a buggy, but nothing stirred in the devilish heat. The muscular boy had come back down the platform.

"I carries your bag for that penny, suh." He patted his paving stone chest. "I's fairly strong."

"Then why aren't you working?" growled Ashley.

"I's been sold to a white boy, suh. I's gonna be his companion. I was waitin' on someone to come for me, but seem like they sent me a whole day early, an' I don't have the slightest of money."

Ashley frowned. "Who you say you been sold to, boy?"

"...I means a young massa, suh."

"That's better," said Ashley. "I assume you have a letter to prove the truth of what you say?"

"Sho' does, young massa. Gots it right here in my pocket, suh, along with my bill of sale."

"I don't need to see it," said Ashley. "Y'all don't look like a fool to me, so I know you wouldn't be lyin'." He studied the chocolate-brown boy for a moment: a very handsome muscular buck with somewhat unusual bright amber eyes and a cheerful intelligent face. He didn't have a lot of mass, but every young muscle was starkly defined like an artist's anatomy model. He was also rather smelly, though Ashley wasn't bothered by that, having been around his father's slaves for thirteen years of his life. He probably smelled a little himself from sweating for hours on the train. The young buck's trousers were slightly too large --what remained of them, anyhow -- clinging comically low on his narrow hips and revealing a few sooty curls. Ashley had never had a companion, at least not a boy of his very own, but someone was going to be very lucky to get such a sturdy young buck as a gift.

"I don't want your help," said Ashley. "...But, thanks just the same. I hope y'all like your new master." That wasn't a proper thing to say, but it came out before he could think.

He dug in his pocket again. "Here's a dime for something to eat." He glanced at the featureless sky overhead, as empty and blue as a porcelain bowl, though slightly dark to the south. "Y'all best find you a dry place to sleep 'cause it look like to storm in a while." Ashley considered, then added: "Y'all go see the blacksmith in town, Darby O'Gill. Tell him Ashley Knight sent you. I 'spect he'll let you sleep in his shop."

"Thank you, suh!" said the boy with a smile. "But, don't y'all want me to carry your bag?"

"No," said Ashley, though still not sure why. The boy could have probably carried him along with his cumbersome luggage. "Y'all best be goin'," he added. "Folks 'round here don't like seein' niggers with nothing constructive to do. ...An' I wouldn't advise bein' out after dark."

"Thank you, suh," the boy said again, then trotted obediently off to town.

"That was very kind of you, suh," the huge fat boy remarked.

"I just didn't want him gettin' in trouble. ...Or swingin' from a tree tonight." Ashley dropped his bag on the ground. "All right. I'll pay you a nickel. But, you're tryin' my patience, boy."

"Y'all just give him a dime for nothin'."

"Shut up an' get up!" roared Ashley. "Or I give you somethin' you won't soon forget!"

The fat boy only smiled again and struggled to get to his feet. After several ridiculous tries he collapsed in a quivering heap. "Can y'all gimmie a hand, young suh?"

"Well, damn!" Ashley knelt down and shoved a shoulder beneath an enormous arm. After several minutes of sweaty struggle, he got the huge boy on his feet.

The fat boy's trousers almost fell off, but he gave them a half-hearted tug with a hand and they managed to clung to his mostly bare bottom, which looked like two ebony planets colliding. He wasn't any taller than Ashley, but was easily four times as wide. His trouser cuffs puddled over his feet, and his wobbly mass of belly blubber hung all the way down to his knees. His navel resembled a railroad tunnel.

"Let's go," said Ashley, whose white linen shirt was now stained with dust and even more sodden with muddy buck sweat. "What's your name?"

"Loki, suh. But they call me Lucky."

"Well, hurry up, Lucky, I don't have all day!"

But, Lucky didn't hurry. It seemed to take every ounce of his strength to lift Ashley's bag off the ground, and he waddled along at the pace of a snail, dragging the bag behind him. His thighs seemed to get in each other's way, making each step a major event, and he dropped Ashley's bag about every ten feet to tug up his trousers again. Ashley had to wait when this happened, and was getting hotter and angrier with every passing minute.

Lucky was puffing like a steam locomotive by the time they were halfway to town. He dropped the bag in the dirt once more as his trousers slid down to his ankles, then wiped the sweat from his triple-chinned face. "I's sorry, young massa," he wheezed. "I's just too fat for this kind of work."

"Damn you, boy!" bellowed Ashley. "Pick up that bag and come on, you hear!"

"I can't, suh," Lucky panted.

Ashley muttered another curse and snatched the bag from the dirt. He turned to stalk away, but then hesitated and turned back around. "Pull up those trousers and come on, boy! At least you can watch my bag for me. You can do that, can't you?"

Lucky smiled and recovered his trousers. "Sho', young massa. But I wants me another nickel."

"What!" cried Ashley. "You didn't earn your first nickel yet! I wouldn't give you a tin picayune for all you've done so far!"

"But I tried to please you, young massa."

"What do you do out at Franklin's?"

"I thinks a lot, suh. An' I tell my thinkin's to massa."

"Don't mess with me!" Ashley yelled. "Nobody owns a thinkin' nigger!"

"I helps my mammy in the cook house, some. She be the best cook in the world."

"As if you knew anything about the world!" Ashley poked Lucky's gigantic belly, his finger sinking out of sight. "It's obvious you work around food. Likely as not you steal it, too."

"Oh no, suh! I whistle all the way up the walk."

"Don't lie to me, boy! Ain't no way in hell an honest nigger could get as fat as you!" Ashley's own trousers slipped low on his hips as his roll of tummy spilled out of his shirt.

Lucky had the gall to poke it. "But honest white folks can?"

"I'm a human being," snapped Ashley. "You're not. Now, c'mon, dammit!"

"What about my nickel?"

"Here!" yelled Ashley, hurling a coin at the smiling boy, who caught it in one chubby hand. "Now, COME ON!"

Ashley was puffing and panting himself by the time they reached the tavern, with Lucky waddling slowly behind. Lucky hadn't had the strength to tote Ashley's bag, yet he seemed to have plenty of breath to whistle a cheerful tune as he walked.

The tavern was brick with a wide veranda, and shaded by massive oak trees. The scents of food and foamy beer drifted out through the open front doors. Ashley paused to study the sky.

"I feels it, too," said Lucky. "There be a big storm comin' on."

"Animals can always sense trouble," Ashley muttered sarcastically. He mounted the steps and dropped his bag. There were tables and chairs on the shady pouch, but it would be cooler inside. "Here, boy," said Ashley. "Sit yourself down and watch my bag. At least that's something you're capable of. ...Not in a chair! Y'all taken leave of your senses?"

Lucky smiled. "You're perfectly right, I'd likely bust it." He then plopped down on the boards of porch, and the whole building seemed to shake. "I guards your bag with my life, young suh."

"You damn well better! It's worth a lot more!" Ashley tucked in his shirt, hoisted his trousers, and started to enter the doorway, but Lucky gave him a wistful look.

"I sho' is hungry, young massa. An' awful thirsty, too."

Ashley sighed. "I'll bring you something."

The tavern's interior was fairly cool. A gallery encircled its second floor, where rooms could be rented for the night... also by the hour. The windows were thickly coated with dust, so most of the light came in through the doorway. A long oak bar with a tarnished brass rail filled one side of the room, with a mirror, and bottles on shelves behind it. Tables and chairs were scattered around, including a big one that held the free lunch. A couple of loungers stood at the bar, their tattered clothes and battered hats revealing them as sharecroppers. One of the men had a small bullwhip coiled and tied to his belt -- proof that he was wealthy enough to afford at least one slave. Some better-dressed men occupied a few tables; and there was a card game in progress. The air was thick with cigar smoke, which blended well with the scents of food and the malty aroma of beer. Ashley adjusted his trousers again. He supposed he should have bought new clothes, but most of his money had gone for food and the many sweet treats to be had in 'Orleans.

The tavern-keeper was a brown-bearded, beer-bellied, ruddy-faced man who smiled as Ashley strode up to the bar. "Afternoon, suh. ...Why, you're Ashley Knight."

"Afternoon, Tom," replied Ashley.

"Ain't seen you around in seem like a year. Where y'all been keepin' yourself?"

Ashley briefly told the man about his stay in New Orleans, then ordered himself a beer. He laid a nickel on the bar, but the tavern-keeper smiled again. "It's on me, suh. Welcome home."

"Thank you, Tom," said Ashley. He raised the foaming mug in salute. "Your health, suh." He went to the table to build a sandwich, but noticed Lucky peeping in. Damn the uppity boy! The tavern-keeper had noticed him, too, and the poor white men were scowling.

"That your boy?" asked Tom. "If he ain't, I'll run him off."

"He's watching my bag," said Ashley, picturing Lucky trying to run, which made a funny sight. "Another beer, Tom, if you please."

"Y'all buy him down in New Orleans?" asked the tattered man with the whip.

Ashley almost said no. Many boys his age had companions, who also acted as personal servants. In England they were called squires; and he'd read a lot about knights and such in the ancient days of chivalry. "He's watching my bag," Ashley repeated, speaking the truth while implying a lie.

"He'll have to go around back," said Tom.

"Of course," agreed Ashley. He paid his nickel, then carried the second mug out to Lucky. The other poor white regarded his beer and muttered something about "sanitation," but the tavern-keeper told him to hush.

Lucky gulped down half the beer as soon as Ashley gave it to him. "Mmmm!" he panted, finally coming up for air. "That sho' is good, young massa! ...But, y'all ain't forgot my lunch, has you?"

"No I hasn't... haven't," said Ashley. "But, you have to go around back."

"Thank you, suh," said Lucky. "I 'spect it be cooler back there." He got to his feet with surprising ease. "Y'all bring your bag so's I can keep watchin'." He waddled away with the mug in hand, while Ashley followed, toting the bag. The rear of the tavern was shaded by trees and cooler than the veranda. Lucky sprawled out with his back to the bricks and gulped down the rest of his beer. "I could use me another one, suh. An' I sho' is powerful hungry."

"All right!" cried Ashley, flinging his bag beside the huge boy and raising a billow of dust. "I haven't tasted my own, thanks to you!"

"But, I's guardin' your property, suh."

"Well, damn!" muttered Ashley. He reentered the tavern through the back door, took a big gulp from his own beer mug, then went to the table and grabbed a plate. There was roast beef, ham, and slices of bread, pickles, onions, salted potatoes and hard-boiled eggs, among many other tempting things. Ashley constructed a big beef sandwich. Then a new thought came to mind. He knew that Lucky was teasing him -- the boy seemed surprisingly smart -- but Ashley wasn't a fool. He wasn't sure why he'd chosen Lucky instead of the handsome, muscular buck, who would have carried his bag for a penny. Maybe he'd only been curious because Lucky was something different? No one knew much about Franklin's plantation. A few slave owners raised "oddities," and Lucky was odd as mule in pajamas. Or, maybe he was only a pet, kept to amuse his master like the jesters in days or yore? That would account for his sassiness and dammable lack of respect. Ashley began to pile the plate with everything in sight. He added so much that the tavern-keeper raised an astonished eyebrow.

"Beggin' your pardon, Master Knight, but y'all could put me out of business."

"I'll pay for this, Tom," said Ashley. "Another beer, please."

One of the gamblers looked up from his cards. "If I may be allowed an observation, you can't possibly eat all that, suh."

"It's not for me," said Ashley. "That boy... of mine... is uppity, an' I'm 'bout to teach him a lesson."

The man cocked his head. "An' what might that be, if I may inquire?"

"He's been pesterin' me like the devil, an' now he cryin' he's hungry. Well, if he can't eat what I give him, I believe I'll borrow that gentleman's whip and teach him a lesson in manners, suh."

The poor white at the bar raised his mug. "I'll sho' nuff drink to that, suh!"

Everyone watched with interest as Ashley heaped more food on the plate. "Lord, Master Knight." said Tom. "Y'all gonna bust me!"

Ashley laughed. "I'm gonna bust somethin'!"

"It's on me, Tom," said the gambler. Then he turned to Ashley. "Y'all be a bettin' man, suh?"

"I just spent a year in 'Orleans, suh. Ever hear of The House of the Rising Sun?"

The man seemed impressed -- though Ashley didn't bother to add that he'd never been inside the place. "Y'all cuttin' a prosperous figure, suh. An' no denying your boy is, too, so I guess y'all don't lose much. But I'll make you a proposition, suh. I got me a shiny new dollar right here says that boy of yours can't eat all that food."

"I'm in," said the man with the whip, and another gambler joined the bet.

"All right," agreed Ashley, finished at last, and admiring the mountain of vittles he'd built. "Y'all want Tom to hold the bets?"

"I trust you, suh," said the gambler. "But, that boy of yours is gonna be thirsty after all that beef an' ham, an' salty boiled potatoes. I ought to buy him a couple more beers."

Ashley nodded. "All right." He studied the heaping plate for a moment, knowing he'd lose the bet... Lucky couldn't possibly eat all that. But, sending Lucky waddling home with a couple of stripes across his bottom was more than worth a few dollars. Ashley enjoyed the look of dismay on Lucky's chubby ebony face when he carried the brimming plate out back, followed by Tom with three mugs of beer, the pair of gentleman gamblers, and the ragged white man with the whip.

"Here, boy," said Ashley, shoving the plate into Lucky's hands. "Exactly what you asked for! You can't eat all that after deviling me, I'll take it as a personal insult, an' I'll be in my rights to give you a thrashin'."

The poor white eagerly offered his whip. Ashley had never held one before -- his father's slaves never needed a lash-- but the supple leather felt good in his hands and gave him a feeling of power.

Lucky stared down at the hugely-heaped plate. "Oh lord, young massa! I can't eat all this!"

Ashley curled the whip. "Eat it or else!"

"That's tellin' him, suh!" laughed the poor white man.

Lucky looked trapped for a moment, but then began to eat. Tom set down the trio of mugs.

"You said you were thirsty, too," Ashley added. "I hope for the sake of your bottom you are!"

Everyone watched in expectant silence as Lucky ate and drank. For a while there were only the sounds of chomping, accompanied by gulps of beer. Somehow the food was vanishing! But, then he began to slow down, forcing himself to chew and swallow. Still, he kept stuffing himself. The poor white man looked uncertain. The gambler cocked his head with interest. Lucky was panting and pouring sweat, but had eaten two-thirds of the plateful of food, and only one mug of beer remained.

Ashley began to feel guilty: this now seemed a bit cruel. "That's enough," he finally said. "I think you've learned your lesson, boy."

The gamblers chuckled, and Tom looked relieved -- folks always said he had a good heart -- but the poor white muttered, "A bet's a bet, boy!"

"Mind who you're calling 'boy'," warned Ashley.

Lucky massaged his massive middle. "But I can't stop now, young massa. You lose all that money on me."

"It's not important," said Ashley.

The gambler slapped Ashley's shoulder. "Your boy's got spirit, I'll give him that."

Ashley dropped the whip on the ground and knelt beside the panting Lucky. "I said it's all right, you can stop now."

"No, young massa," gasped Lucky. "Y'all put your trust in me."

There were only two potatoes left, some slices of beef, and the last mug of beer. Lucky managed to finish it all, then let out a thunderous burp that scared a sleeping crow in a tree.

The gambler whistled. "I'd of never believed it if I hadn't seen it!" He broke out laughing "That's the best dammed bet I've lost in years!"

The poor white grumbled under his breath, but pulled out a dollar and snatched up his whip. The men went back in the tavern, and Lucky collapsed against the wall.

"Are you all right?" asked Ashley, worried for Lucky... and not about having to pay for him in case he was damaged somehow.

Lucky smiled, his eyes almost shut, his fingers clasped over his titanic tummy as if to prevent an explosion. "I never hurt so good in my life!"

"You sure you gonna be all right?"

"'Spect I just sleep for a while, suh. I generally does after lunch."

The tavern-keeper returned. "Your buggy's out front, Master Knight."

"Thank you, Tom," said Ashley. He turned back to Lucky. "I'll give you a ride out to Franklin's." He smiled a little. "No denying' you earned it." He glanced at the dollars he'd won. "Here, boy, you take 'em."

"Huh?" asked Lucky, nearly asleep.

Ashley shook the huge boy's shoulders. "C'mon now, wake up! I said I'll give you a ride home."

"But I's too full to move, young massa."

"I'll help you. Come on."

That wasn't easy. Lucky's vast body was slippery with sweat and there was nothing to grab. It took several minutes of strain and struggle to finally get him on his feet. Ashley was panting and gasping himself as he pulled Lucky's arm across his shoulders and helped him waddle away.

Chapter Two:

Like the sleepy little town, Jupiter hadn't changed a bit... a wrinkled old raisin with snowy white hair, who moved at the speed of an arthritic turtle. He'd seen a lot in his seventy years, but his eyebrows threatened to topple his hat when Ashley staggered around the building supporting the gigantic Lucky.

"I's sorry I's late, Massa Knight," said Jupiter. "But I can't move as fast as I used to."

Ashley gave the old man a smile. "Meanin' you fell asleep on the road an' the horse just stopped in the shade somewhere. Good to see you, Juppy. Y'all know this boy?"

"Just by reputation. He belong to Franklin' out at Content. ...But what in creation you doin' with him?"

Ashley laughed. "I invited him to lunch."

"'S'cue my ignorance, Massa Knight, but do 'Orleans whitefolks take blackfolks to lunch?"

"You never been ignorant, Juppy. Lucky kind of amused me, I guess. We'll take him to Franklin's before goin' home."

"Your folks might get worried," said Jupiter. He pushed back his hat to study the sky. "With a storm comin' on, an' we's already late. Be 'least a hour to Franklin's."

"I'll have Tom send someone home with a message. Let's get Lucky aboard."

That was easier said than done. It was four feet up to the back of the buggy, and Lucky was just about helpless. Jupiter was fairly strong, but Ashley had done very little but eat and leisurely stroll in the city all year, so his muscles had softened a lot. After what seemed like hours of slippery struggle they'd managed to get Lucky halfway in; but try as they might, grunting and gasping, they couldn't lift him the rest of the way. Ashley was ready to yell for Tom when the muscular buck from the station appeared.

"Y'all needin' some help, suh?" he asked.

"God bless you, boy," panted Ashley.

The young buck's muscles completed the task, and Lucky was finally wrestled aboard, where he instantly went to sleep.

"Thanks," said Ashley, mopping more sweat from his face. The buttons had burst on his sodden shirt, and he peeled it off his glistening body as pale as a catfish's underside. "Y'all find the blacksmith?"

"Yes suh." The boy looked off toward the southern sky. "It gonna be stormin' fit to bust before the sun go down, but I gots me a roof an' a blanket tonight."

"Go around back of the tavern," said Ashley. "I'll have Tom bring you something to eat. An' here's a dollar for all your help."

"Lord!" exclaimed the boy. "I never had so much money before! Now I see why they calls him Lucky!"

Ashley patted the boy's bushy head. "Your new master's gonna be lucky, too... but don't you tell him that."

Ashley accompanied the happy young buck to get his bag from behind the tavern, then went inside to buy him a meal and have a message sent home. Finally, he returned to the buggy and climbed on the seat beside Jupiter. They rattled slowly out of town and onto a road that led through the swamp, tunneling under massive trees bearded with streamers of dangling moss. Ashley tossed his shirt in the back and stretched his sweaty body.

"That feels a lot better! I hated all them fancy-ass clothes I had to wear in the city."

"Welcome home, massa," said Jupiter. He grinned and poked Ashley's stomach. "Y'all be cuttin' a prosperous figure."

Ashley glanced down at himself. "'Spect I gained about thirty pounds, an' I thoroughly enjoyed every one. You just wouldn't believe the food down there!"

Jupiter chuckled. "Ain't hard to believe, lookin' at you."

"...But, dammit, I didn't have any lunch. An' I'm thirsty as hellfire, too!"

"Water jug's 'neath the seat, suh. ...An' here, I brung your hat."

"Thanks," said Ashley. The hat was a boyish and savage adornment, boasting a rattlesnake skin for a band, along with a jaunty hawk feather. "S'pose it be the only thing that fit me anymore." He clamped the old hat on his head. "I surely missed my buckskin trousers."

Jupiter smiled. "I 'spect we can entice my missus into makin' y'all a new pair. 'Course, you be all growed up now. Can't be goin' around half naked an' lookin' like a injun-boy."

"Next you'll be trying to trim my beard!" Ashley pulled out the crockery jug and took several gulps of hot, flat water. "I really wanted a beer." He reached in his bag for a box of cigars. "I brought these for you." Then he sighed. "Reckon they had a fine big lunch all waitin' for me at home."

Jupiter ducked some feathery moss as they passed underneath a low tree branch. "Well, yes an' no, Massa Knight."

"My name is Ashley, as you well know. ...And what do you mean?"

"Your father had to sell Lizzie last month, an' the meals just ain't been the same. Your lunch be waitin' big all right, but I wouldn't be callin' it fine."

Ashley's mouth dropped open. "Why would he ever sell Lizzie?"

"'Cause he had to sell off Lizzie's daughter, an' you know how he feel about bustin' up families."

"You mean Suzie?"

"Sho' nuff, Ash."

"But, Suzie was only about my age. ...I liked her a lot."

Jupiter shrugged. "Damn little fool! Got herself in a family way with some field-buck over at Benson's place."

"...Oh," said Ashley. He'd been looking forward to seeing Suzie.

"So," continued Jupiter, flicking the slow horse's rump with the whip. "Your father seem to think it best if Suzie be sold to Benson. An' natcherly Lizzie go with her."

"Well, damn!" said Ashley. "Benson got the best of that deal! Lizzie was a wonderful cook. ...So, who's cookin' now?"

"One of the field girls, Betty her name.. An' lord she could burn a potful of water!"

"Well, damn!" muttered Ashley again. He glanced back at the slumbering Lucky, watching what had to be 500 pounds wobble and jiggle like night-colored pudding as the buggy bounced over the rutted road. "He told me his mammy's a real good cook. Ain't hard to believe that much of his tales."

"I's heard similar talk myself."

"Hmmm," said Ashley, glancing at Lucky again.

Chapter Three:

Seth Franklin's plantation was not very large. Nor was it noted around Knight's Crossing for being especially prosperous. Ashley had never met the man and didn't know much about him. Jupiter probably knew a lot more, but like all wise slaves never let on.

The drive to the Big House was neatly raked and lined with rounded river rocks, though it wasn't graveled to keep down the dust like the much grander entrance to Ashley's home. The welcoming archway out on the road was simply built of cedar logs with the name, CONTENT, carved above. The land was nearly surrounded by swamp, making it almost an island, so Franklin grew rice on his wetter grounds and sugar cane on the driest.

Lucky was still sleeping peacefully as they rolled up the drive between the fields, where stalks of cane grew green and tall. The afternoon air was brutally hot, and the stormy feeling had doubled. Ashley studied the sky to the south: its haze had taken a coppery tone. He hoped he'd be home and eating supper before the fury broke.

There were only about twenty slaves at work -- men, women, and older youths -- out chopping cane in the steamy fields. Ashley noted that, unlike some masters, Franklin didn't lock masks on his slaves to keep them from eating the cane. He also noticed that all the slaves looked very well-fed and smiled a lot. He saw three boys of about his own age, two in trousers similar to Lucky's, the third wearing only a loincloth. All of them were chubby. One boy almost looked like himself... except for being black, of course. The men were rather handsomely built, and none of the women and girls were thin. Their pace as they worked was a lot more unhurried than Ashley's father would have allowed.

The Big House looked impressive enough, though only half the size of Ashley's. The Quarters were out in plain sight behind it, and seemed to be in a lot better shape than the dwellings of many poor whites. Flowers were growing around the cabins, and young children played on the Big House's lawn, though some were old enough to be working.

"Ain't no wonder Franklin's not rich," Ashley remarked while buttoning his shirt. "He's let his slaves get fat an' lazy. ...An' look at those kids doin' nothin'!"

"Shameful, ain't it?" said Jupiter.

The children all ran to the buggy as it came to a stop in front of the house... another thing that Ashley's father would never have allowed. Like the older kids out in the fields, all were chubby, at least well-fed; and one boy who might have been about twelve was so enormous that Ashley stared. He wasn't as fat as Lucky if measured in actual pounds, but he seemed to be nothing but wobbly rolls. He waddled out from the shade of the house, leaning way back to balance a belly than hung nearly down to his knees. He must have been the stable boy, as evidenced by a battered blue cap atop his woolly bush of hair. He was eating a piece of cornbread and honey, and really needed three hands... one to hold the horse's reins, another to keep his trousers on, and a third to feed his double-chinned face. The other kids spied Lucky asleep and started to giggle and laugh.

"Y'all figure out what to do with him," Ashley said to Jupiter. He adjusted his hat and climbed down from the buggy, automatically searching his pockets and passing out pennies to all the kids. "Mind that horse," he said to the mammoth stable boy, while handing him a nickel. "She spooks like crazy whenever it thunders."

A wet breeze stirred the sultry air as Ashley approached the house. There came a distant thunder crash. The slaves in the fields all stopped their work and began walking back to the Quarters. The house's front door swung gently open as Ashley mounted the steps to the porch. He almost tripped and fell in surprise... instead of a proper butler or maid, a chubby young black girl appeared.

She was wearing only a simple slave dress, its blue cotton clinging so wonderfully tight that it clearly revealed every curve of her body. Her silky skin was as dark as jet, and her face was a female version of Lucky's, roundly-cheeked and button-nosed. Her hair was a halo of ringlets, while her eyes were large, very long-lashed, and sparkled like polished obsidian.

Ashley instantly pulled off his hat before realizing how silly that was. He tried not to stare at the beautiful girl in her tight-clinging thin cotton dress. Then, he felt himself blushing.

His voice sounded husky and froggish, and he clutched his hat in nervous hands like a sharecropper begging a favor. "Um... is your mass..." He cleared his throat and began again. "Is your master in?"

The girl smiled sweetly, dimpling her cheeks. Ashley fought to control his eyes, wanting to look at this beautiful girl, knowing he had every right to look, but feeling absurdly shy. He realized she had spoken to him. "Huh?" he asked.

"Who should I say is callin', please?" the girl repeated with the hint of a giggle.

"...Oh. ...Um... My name's Ashley. ...Ashley Knight."

"Won't you step in, Master Knight?"

Still clutching his hat, Ashley came in as the girl moved aside. He didn't want her to curtsey for him, and thankfully she didn't. Her scent was somehow like water-lilies. She closed the door behind him, after taking a look at the threatening sky.

"This way, please, Master Knight." She led him up a hallway, her bare feet soundless on polished oak. Ashley couldn't keep his eyes from scanning her wonderfully rounded figure. He got the impression that many fine paintings were hung along the wainscotted walls, but he hardly even noticed the art, being entranced by the girl. She ushered him into a library and dimpled her chubby cheeks again.

"The Master is havin' his afternoon nap, but I'm sure he won't mind receiving you. I'll just be a minute, suh. Please have a seat."

"Um," said Ashley, almost crushing his hat in his hands. It certainly wasn't proper, but he couldn't seem to help himself. "My name is Ashley. ...Um, what's yours?"

The girl's eyes seemed to linger on him. "Lucinda."

Ashley swallowed. "That's a real pretty name."

"Thank you." Lucinda smiled again, then added, "Ashley."

Ashley just stood with hat in hands after Lucinda had left. "Well, damn!" he murmured. Several of the children outside resembled African cupids, and he wondered if he'd been shot in the back with one of those fabled arrows.

He tried to shake off what felt like a spell, and glanced around the room. The furniture seemed to be rather old, but looked cared-for and cherished. The air was pleasantly cool, the sunlight tamed by wine-colored drapes; but Ashley's shirt was thoroughly soaked, as well as begrimed from his struggles with Lucky. He probably smelled as sweaty and male as the muscled young buck he'd met at the station. His boots were appallingly dusty, and his canvas trousers were really quite common. He hoped that Franklin would not be displeased, though he worried more about the impression he might have made on Lucinda. ...That was really absurd!

He considered the chubby children, and wondered if Franklin bred speciality slaves to supplement his crops. Maybe he raised young slaves for the house, with polished manners and eye-pleasing looks... though he seemed to have polished Lucky too well. He became aware of more paintings around him, and though he knew very little of art, they all appeared to be skillfully done. Most were landscapes and bayou scenes, but others were slave children, usually chubby. There were many old leather-bound books on the shelves, and Ashley began to study their titles. It seemed as if Franklin was very well-read: there were Shakespeare, Dante, Cervantes, Poe, Dickens, DeFoe and Hawthorne, plus volumes of Philosophy as well as many religious tomes. There were also books about Africa; and Ashley was scanning their well-worn spines when Lucinda's soft voice surprised him. He turned around, feeling stupidly shy, like a sharecropper waiting to ask for a loan, ill at ease in a gentleman's house. That, of course, was completely absurd! His own house was ten-times grander than Franklin's, and much more lavishly furnished. Even though lacking original art.

He fought to control his eyes once more, to make them politely meet the girl's instead of scanning her plump round figure as if she was only another possession on display like the paintings.

"Master will be down directly," she said, smiling at Ashley again. "He asks if you'll have some refreshment?" She indicated a sideboard with several crystal decanters. "May I make y'all a julep, suh?"

Ashley was still very thirsty... Lucky had managed to guzzle four beers while he'd only gotten a swallow of one. And now his throat was drier than ever. "Um," he said, still holding his hat like a beggar boy. "Would a beer be possible...?" He caught himself before adding, "Miss." What in hell was wrong with him? Then, he heard his voice again, as if it was speaking without his permission. "It's Ashley... please."

Were the girl's eyes amused, he wondered? Or, was that a sparkle of interest?

"Why certainly... Ashley. I'll be right back."

"Um?" he asked, as she turned to leave. "'Scuse my ignorance... I mean, pardon me... but are you related to Lucky?"

Lucinda giggled. "He's my brother. We're fraternal twins."

"Oh," said Ashley, abusing his hat. "I... um, just wondered."

"That's only natural... Ashley."

"Well, damn!" murmured Ashley again, after Lucinda departed. He caught sight of himself in a mirror, and actually searched his back for an arrow! Or, had he been caught in a Voodu spell like the colored folk cast down in New Orleans?

There came another rumble of thunder, still far away though closer now, and the glass decanters rattled their stoppers in sympathetic vibration. He went to the windows and parted their drapes, which, unlike those in his own home, didn't spill onto the floor in "wastes." He was scanning the rapidly darkening sky when he heard heavy footsteps behind him. He turned to see what might have been the fattest man on the planet.

In a white linen suit, and with snowy white hair, Seth Franklin made Ashley think of a ship under full and majestic sail. In contrast to a spotless shirt, the man's face and hands were deeply tanned... dramatically darker than Ashley's skin.

Conscious of his sweaty clothes, and also his hat with its crude decorations, Ashley went to meet the huge man. Shaking his hand was a little awkward because of the man's incredible size. Franklin's brown eyes studied Ashley with interest.

"I'm honored, Master Knight," said Franklin. "I've heard of your travels. A year in 'Orleans has agreed with you."

"There's surely no shortage of good things to eat. And I believe I devoured my share." Ashley added his reason for coming, and Seth Franklin boomed out a laugh.

"Lucky's a little rascal all right! I really don't know why I keep him. I swear he eats his own weight every day. He's slower than molasses in winter, and as useful as a three-legged mule."

Ashley felt a little embarrassed as Lucinda returned with two mugs on a tray... Lucky was her brother. "Well..." he said. "He seems like a very intelligent boy." He glanced at the girl as she offered the tray. Did her eyes seem amused again?

"Will there be anything else, Master Franklin?" she asked.

"I 'spect we'll be wanting more beer in a bit. And, Master Knight will be staying over, so please prepare a room."

"Of course," said Lucinda.

"Oh," said Ashley. "Pardon me, suh, but I got... must be getting home."

Thunder rumbled again as he spoke, and lightning blazed the sky outside.

"I wouldn't hear of it, suh," said Franklin. He moved to the window in his slow and majestic sailing-ship way. "It will be raining like Noah's flood before you even reach the road."

Ashley could hear the wind rising, moaning around the house's walls, bending the stalks of cane in the fields, and whipping the tree branches to and fro with their ragged streamers of moss. The slaves had all disappeared by now, probably sung in their cabins.

"But, my folks will be worried," said Ashley.

"My stable boy can take them a message." Franklin turned to Lucinda. "Please tell little Danny to saddle a horse."

The sky had darkened to gunmetal gray, and raindrops exploded against the glass with a sound like pistol shots. There was another flash of lightning, followed by a roar of thunder that rattled the row of decanters again.

"I'll go tell Danny, suh," said Ashley, setting down his beer untasted. "No need for Lu... your girl to get wet."

"This way, Master Knight," said Lucinda, showing Ashley into the hall.

"Um, my name is..."

Lucinda laughed as she led the way through the now dimlit and shadowy house. "I couldn't call you Ashley in front of my master, could I?"

"You're right," agreed Ashley, as they crossed a darkened dining hall and entered the kitchen in back of the house. A gust of wet wind burst into the room as Lucinda opened an outside door. It was already raining buckets, big fat drops that flattened the lawn and splattered the bricks of the whistling walk that led to the little cook house. Steam was swirling up from the ground, though the air was still heavy with heat.

"There's the stable," said Lucinda, pointing toward some tossing trees. "But you'll be soaked to the skin!"

"It's only water," said Ashley. He clamped on his hat and ran for the stable across the slippery, rain-soaked grass where puddles were deeply forming. This was the first time in nearly a year that Ashley had tried to run anywhere, and he found his body bobbing about in rather awkward ways. A button popped on his trousers, and he had to hold them up with a hand. Still, it felt good to be out in the rain, somehow wild and savagely free with the wind whipping at him and tousling his hair. A razor of lighting slashed the sky, and thunder crashed like a cannon blast. In seconds he was thoroughly soaked. He stumbled, panting, into the stable. There were good smells of horses and hay; and Jupiter had the buggy inside. Their own nervous horse was safe in a stall, and Jupiter was soothing her. The stable boy had lighted a lantern, and was comfortably sprawled on a pile of straw.

Ashley stripped out of his sodden shirt as rain rattled down on the cedar shake roof. "Juppy, we'll be stayin' the night. I’m sure they'll make you comfortable." He glanced at the empty buggy. "What happened to Lucky?"

"We unload him back at the Quarters," said Jupiter.

Ashley turned to the stable boy. "Sorry, Danny, but y'all gotta ride out to my place an' tell my folks I'll be here overnight. You know the way to Diligence? It's three miles north of town."

"Reckon I can find it," said Danny. "Y'all 'spect they feed me?" He got to his feet, almost losing his trousers.

"'Course they will," said Ashley. "We treat our nig... servants right."

Lightning flashed outside again, glaring bright through gaps in the walls. Thunder shook the building, and rain pounded down even harder. Danny saddled a huge plow horse that didn't seem disturbed by the storm. The beast, Ashley noted, was also quite fat, the fattest horse he'd ever seen, and the saddle's cinch could hardly be fastened beneath its tremendous barrel of belly. Danny's own belly was just so big that he couldn't raise a leg high enough to get a foot in the stirrup. Ashley tried to boost him up, but couldn't lift Danny's enormous weight.

"Deja vu!" he panted. "I been here before!"

Danny giggled, more or less in Ashley's arms but spilling over everywhere. "Y'all mean tryin' to lift my brother?"

"I should have guessed he'd be your brother." Ashley dropped to his hands and knees so Danny could stand on his back. Finally, with Jupiter helping, they got the blubbery boy on the horse.

"Y'all sure they feed me?" asked Danny again.

"You tell Jacob the butler I said to. They had a big lunch all ready for me, so there ought to be plenty leftover." Ashley adjusted the stirrups to better fit Danny's chubby bare feet, then opened his bag in the back of the buggy and pulled out an oilskin cloak." Wrap this around you, Danny. An' here's fifty cents for your trouble."

Danny clamped his cap on tight. "Ain't no trouble as long as they feed me."

"Y'all be careful now." Ashley opened the stable doors, struggling against the gusts of wind until Jupiter came to his aid. The hissing rain pelted his chest and face as the hugely fat horse ambled out in the storm and splashed away through the puddles. Ashley remained in the doorway, letting the wind and rain lash his body.

"Y'all lost your senses?" said Jupiter. "Get out that rain a'fore you take cold!" He draped a horse blanket across Ashley's shoulders and started to rub Ashley down like a pony. "I's sorry about your homecomin', Ash. Y'all was right 'bout me fallin' asleep. If I hadn't been so lazy, then none of this would've happened."

Chapter Four:

"What do you think of slavery, suh?"

Ashley was thinking about Lucinda. It took him a moment to realize what Franklin had actually asked. Ashley's slowness wasn't surprising: he had never been so stuffed in his life. He was sprawled in a comfortable armchair, his bootless feet on a hassock. One hand held a snifter of brandy, the other a fine cigar. A lamp shone warmly on a table, filling the room with a soft golden glow. The wind howled outside like a tormented beast, and raindrops pounded the window glass, which made the room a pleasant refuge from the savage storm lashing the land.

Ashley glanced at a clock on the mantle: it was almost 10:30. He hoped little Danny had reached his house and was also warm and dry.

Supper had been like a gourmet's dream. Franklin lived alone with his slaves: his wife had passed-on some years before, and his sons were lawyers in New Orleans. The table had only been set for two, but there had been enough food for ten, and the courses seemed to be endless. Ashley couldn't remember them all, only that each was superb. There had been ham with a thick honey glaze, along with fried chicken deliciously battered. There was a massive slab of beef, mashed potatoes, and rich brown gravy, corn-on-the-cob slathered with butter, greens and other vegetables, along with so many specialty dishes that Ashley couldn't keep track. He couldn't have refused anything; that would have been impolite. Besides, it was next to impossible with Lucinda seemingly always beside him, refilling his beer mug and bringing more food.

He'd caught a glimpse of Lucky in the kitchen, still wearing nothing but canvas trousers, glistening wet from his trips to the cook-house to bring in yet more succulent wonders. He had also been busily sampling them.

Dessert was a massive pecan pie smothered with mountains of sweet whipped cream; and Ashley had hardly been able to move after he'd managed to finish his slice. He could hardly get out of his chair when Franklin suggested cigars and brandy.

A grinning Lucky had then appeared, rainwater dripping from every loose roll, and held Ashley's chair as he'd struggled to rise. Lucky had waddled along behind as Ashley accompanied Franklin, who proceeded him into the libraray where Lucinda was pouring drinks. Lucky had knelt to remove Ashley's boots and take them away to be polished. That was a normal task for a slave, but Lucky had looked amused.

Now, thoroughly stuffed and a little bit drunk from several glasses of excellent brandy, Ashley pondered Franklin's question. "What do I think of slavery, suh? I'm not sure what you mean. It's not a question of morals because they're not human beings like us."

Franklin filled a massive chair that must have been specially built, and raised a snowy eyebrow. "Is that what they're teaching in school nowadays? That certainly makes it easy to justify the concept." He chuckled softly and added, "Or perhaps to sleep at night."

Ashley took another sip of brandy. "Well, even if they were human beings... for the sake of argument, suh... they are surely living a better life here than wild in Africa eating each other."

"Actually, suh," said Franklin. "The practice of cannibalism is rare." He gestured toward the walls of books. "There are more documented cases of white cannibalism... shipwrecked sailors and so forth... than have ever been conclusively proven among the peoples of Africa. The practice, suh, is much more common to certain tribes in the Dutch East Indies."

"...Oh," said Ashley. "But, what about head-hunters, suh?"

"They do not eat their victims, suh. The heads are merely trophies of war, as a few of our Indian tribes take scalps. ...Incidentally, suh, many of those tribes learned that practice from the early French and English invaders."

"...Oh," said Ashley again, wishing that Franklin would change the subject. "But we need slaves, suh," he finally said. "How else could we get things done in this country? There's crops to grow and roads to build. And land to be cleared and planted."

Franklin sipped from his own glass of brandy and flicked cigar ashes into a tray. "I beg to differ, Master Knight. If I may say so, and with all due respect, I have studied the matter while you, suh, have not. I pray you will forgive me, suh. But, setting aside the question of morals, slavery is an obscenity. An insult to our Creator. And, even if it wasn't, suh, it simply does not work... as all great civilizations have found."

"Huh?" said Ashley, then... "Pardon me, suh, but I cannot fathom your reasoning." He paused to wave his cigar around. "We are sitting here now in a very fine room in a very fine house. After enjoying a very fine supper... for all of which I thank you, suh. But, slavery made it possible."

Franklin shrugged an enormous shoulder. "At it's very best, suh... if one may say there is a 'best' thing about slavery... it only works for a very short time. Often just in the first generations when slaves still hope to escape. In other words, suh, when they still have dreams of regaining their freedom. Then it is in their own best interests to serve their temporary masters... 'buying time,' so to speak... but all the while searching for ways to escape. But, when children are born into slavery, suh, the system begins to break down. Though it may take several generations before the whole system collapses."

He laughed and patted his mammoth belly, which strained its yards of spotless linen. "Beneath its own weight, if I say so myself. There are many reasons for this collapse. But in the long term, suh, any system of slavery is always doomed to failure. As are any societies that depend upon slaves to maintain them. Again, I cite the lessons of History: all truly great societies eventually outgrow slavery. And those that do not invariably fall."

Franklin sipped from his glass again. "In the simplest of terms, suh... not that I think you the slightest bit simple... having captive and unwilling workers who are forced to labor without any personal gain or reward, nor any chance to better themselves, goes entirely against human nature; from the Hottentot to the Esqumoix, from the Russian serf to the British tenant. The task... whatever it may be, from cutting cane to building a railroad... is never done well or efficiently. All human beings... I will not discuss the 'animal question' because frankly, suh, and with all due respect, I believe it to be beneath contempt... share the same basic needs and desires. These are food, shelter, a family life, and... absurd as it may sound to some with a limited grasp of humanity... a certain degree of happiness. Along with free will and choice. The 'choice' may be only to work or to starve, but even that is still a choice. Disregarding humanity, and taking a capitalistic view, it makes far more economic sense to pay a man in exchange for his labor and then have done with him, so to speak. In other words, suh, it is much more profitable to let him worry about where he will sleep, what he will wear, and how he will feed his wife and children, then to have to provide him with food and shelter, clothing, and some degree of care to assure his continued labors."

Franklin smiled and sipped more brandy. "And far better, suh, to treat that man with dignity, and I daresay even kindness. A man who is respected for doing his job, a man who may even like what does, will always do his job well. More so, he will usually invent better and more efficient ways of doing it, which is beneficial to both himself and to his employer. Slavery, suh, is not only barbaric and a lasting shame to any nation, but, as I have already said, it simply does not work for any length of time. ...As the South may hopefully realize before it is too late."

"What about the Egyptians, suh?" asked Ashley. "They had generations of slaves to build their pyramids and their many other great works."

"Their system evolved," replied Franklin. "Their slaves were offered incentives to work; and they could often buy their freedom... or freedom, at least, for their children." Franklin smiled again. "Surely you must have noticed that we are evolving a similar system while you were down in New Orleans? To me, suh, this is ample proof that our system is now on the brink of collapse."

Ashley felt his cheeks growing warm: he'd heard similar theories in New Orleans... his father had warned him he would. His unfocused anger was strangely at odds with the pleasant surroundings and comfortable fullness. Again, he waved his cigar around. "With all due respect, suh, it seems to be working here at Content. You are obviously prospering, and I can only assume that you do not prosper more simply because you are content."

Ashley wasn't sure that had come out right, but added: "And, may I say, suh, that never in my entire life have I seen such happy and... well, prosperous slaves."

He might have left it at that, but the brandy and fullness made him bold. "Although I must add that they seem a bit casual in doing their tasks. And there are some... my father, perhaps... who might say their children are rather familiar and not over-cautious in speaking their minds."

Franklin only smiled. "So you admit they have minds?"

"...Well... of course, suh," said Ashley, wishing again for another subject. "To a limited extent. But so do horses and mules. ...Still, it is obvious to me that whatever system of slavery you have devised here at Content is working, suh. And working quite well." He raised his glass. "I commend you, suh. But may I take the liberty of saying that you have toppled your own argument against the practice of slavery by proving that it does indeed work. I would take it as an honor, suh, if you would share your knowledge with me. I will, as you know, inherit my father's plantation some day."

Franklin studied Ashley for a moment. His smile was warm though slightly amused... maybe a bit like Lucky's. Then he suddenly burst into laughter, his vast body actually shaking the floor while tears came into his eyes. He finally subsided to hearty chuckles and took a last sip from his glass. "Perhaps we will discuss my system." He glanced at the clock. "But it's getting late, don't you agree?"

"Certainly, suh." Ashley drained his glass and snubbed out his cigar. Then he looked up as Lucinda came in with a candle and a pair of slippers. He hoped she hadn't been listening. though the sounds of the storm should have covered their words. Lucinda's smile seemed as friendly as ever, her ebony eyes meeting his for a moment. Nevertheless, he regretted saying that slaves weren't human beings.

Lucinda gave Ashley a dimpled smile, then set down the candle and knelt on the carpet to put the slippers on Ashley's feet. He didn't want her to do that, but couldn't think of a way to refuse.

"May I show you to your room, suh?" she asked.

"Yes, please." Ashley got up with some struggle, bid goodnight to a smiling Franklin, and followed Lucinda into the hall. He searched for something to say as they climbed the stairs to the second floor. "Um... that was a very fine supper, Lucinda."

For a moment the girl looked amused... another "Lucky" expression. But, after all, they were twins. "I'll tell my mammy y'all approved."

The hall was brightly lit for an instant as lighting flashed outside a window. Thunder boomed again. Lucinda led Ashley into a room and lighted a lamp with her candle. The room was large, and the lamp's soft glow left much of it in shadow. There was a gigantic four-poster bed, and a nightshirt lay on the frilly spread. Ashley's bag had been placed on a chair. The window curtains swayed restlessly, stirred by the gusting wind outside.

"Will there be anything else... Ashley?" Lucinda asked.

Ashley dropped his eyes to the floor. There were many thoughts in his mind about "else," and he wasn't sure how to deal with them. He'd heard a few tales of plantation owners providing "companionship" to their guests, but he somehow couldn't imagine Franklin making such an offer. Nor, he thought, would he have approved. ...Not with Lucinda. His voice came out husky again, as when he'd first seen this beautiful girl on the house's front porch that afternoon. "Um, no. Thank you. Um... goodnight, Lucinda."

She smiled once more. "Goodnight, Ashley. If you need anything, just ring." She padded softly into the hall and gently closed the door.

"Well, damn," Ashley murmured. There was a flash of lightning ouside, flaring through the window curtains, but the thunder's crash seemed farther away. Sheets of rain still rattled the glass and sizzled across the roof overhead, but the storm was slowly passing. He stripped off his shirt, then studied himself in a large, framed mirror that hung on a wall. He wasn't bad-looking, he supposed, though his body was somewhat rolly and soft from his idle year in New Orleans. But, he'd never been envious of muscles... only slaves needed animal brawn.

He glanced with disgust at the nightshirt... he hated those things, like wearing a dress! He paused to study an excellent painting of chubby slave kids above the bed. The children were naked and happily swimming. Had Franklin done it, he wondered? Maybe his departed wife? In a way it seemed like a waste, devoting such talent and skill painting slaves. He plopped on the bed to pull off his slippers, then kicked his trousers away, glad to be free of their tight confines. He glanced at the painting again, recalling his own days of swimming bare. He thought of Lucinda once more, recalling every lush curve of her body. Had Franklin offered her, he wondered? If so, should he have accepted?

He tossed the nightshirt onto a chair, then stretched out atop the fluffy covers, sinking into their feather-filled softness while rain made shivery sounds outside. Lucinda seemed to be haunting his mind, and his body was all too aware of that. Suddenly, there came a giggle.

"Don't y'all know what to do with that?"

Ashley jerked to a sitting position. For an instant his cheeks flared rosy red. "Lucky! How dare...!" But then he found that he didn't much care. Lucky was only a slave, after all, even if dammably impudent.

"You could order me whipped, young massa," said Lucky. He'd been sitting back in a shadowy corner, his ebony bulk invisible. Now he struggled to get to his feet, still clad in nothing but trousers.

"Oh, don't be a fool!" snapped Ashley.

Lucky was munching a slice of pie... more of the pecan topped with cream. Though Ashley still felt impossibly stuffed, the sight of the pie was tempting.

"Y'all want a piece?" asked Lucky.

"I suppose I could manage a slice."

Lucky produced a nearly whole pie. "I s'pose I could manage another myself." He waddled right over and plopped on the bed, making it groan beneath his weight. His trousers were still a bit damp, and he smelled like rain with a hint of moist earth. He pulled out a jackknife to slice the pie, then handed a wedge to Ashley. "Who was you thinkin' about?"

"That's none of your business," growled Ashley. He scooted back into the pillows to eat, and was too surprised to be annoyed when Lucky casually joined him.

"Bet I know," giggled Lucky.

Ashley munched pie and considered. Again, lightning flashed and thunder boomed with the sound of distant cannon-fire, but the storm was moving away. "So what?" said Ashley, licking his fingers. "I got every... I find your sister very attractive."

"For a slave?"

Ashley scowled. "For anybody. ...Does that bother you?"

"Does that bother me, what?"

"Huh? ...Oh. Boy."

Lucky chuckled. "Don't be forgettin' your place, suh. I'm sure she'd take it the highest of honors to have excited you so, young massa."

"Oh, quit bein' sassy, dammit! I think she's pretty, all right? Do you feel compelled to defend her honor...?" Ashley caught himself: he'd almost said, sir!"

Lucky burped. "'Scuse me." His bulk made a valley deep in the bed; and Ashley had slipped way down in its depths so their shoulders were pressed together. Lucky giggled again. "Not as long as your intentions are honorable... suh."

Ashley flushed. "I have no in... Oh, finish your pie and get out of here!"

"I thought we'd finish it together," said Lucky. "An' have us a little conversation."

"I don't think I can manage more pie. I feel like you looked at the tavern today."

"I rubs your tummy, massa," Lucky suggested. "That might help."

"...Huh?"

"Or, should I ring for Lucy to do it?"

"WHAT?" cried Ashley, horrified, as Lucky reached for the velvet rope. Before he could think, he grabbed the huge boy. Suddenly they were wrestling like kids, Lucky trying to reach the rope while Ashley battled to hold him down. But, Lucky was four times Ashley's weight, and finally pinned Ashley deep in the covers.

"Please," Ashley panted, helpless beneath Lucky's midnight mass. "Don't ring that bell!"

Lucky laughed, his nose an inch from Ashley’s. "Do you implore me, suh?"

"Yes, I implore you!" Ashley gasped. "Now please get off, I can't breathe under here!"

A little while later the storm had subsided, though rain still pattered across the roof with a soothing, sleepy sound. The boys were sharing the last piece of pie. Ashley pillowed his head on his arms and gazed at the bed's ruffled canopy. "I ain't... haven't wrestled in almost a year. City boys don't know how to wrestle. Besides, it isn't proper."

"Buy me," said Lucky.

"Huh?" said Ashley.

"I could be your squire, suh knight."

Ashley cocked his head. "How do you know about knights and squires?"

"Read about 'em."

Ashley jerked bolt upright as if he'd been struck by lightning. "YOU CAN READ?" he demanded.

"'Course I can."

"...But... That's against the law!" Ashley almost howled.

"Just 'cause somethin's a law, don't necessarily make it right."

"Um?" whispered Ashley after a moment. "Does Franklin' know?"

"Was him who taught me."

"Don't tell me any more," said Ashley. "I don't want to know. ...Why, Franklin could be hung for that! So could you!"

"Ah's just black," said Lucky. "Ah's not stupid."

Ashley sank back on the pillow. "Just change the subject. ...Um, why would you want to belong to me? You have an easy life right here. Quite easy, from I've seen."

"I want to see the world," said Lucky. "An' you're gonna travel a lot. You're gonna need a companion. A squire, suh knight. Or you'll go around jousting at windmills."

"Damn!" murmered Ashley. "You really can read! ...But, why would I joust at windmills?"

"A knight needs a cause. A reason to be noble an' brave. Maybe a reason to suffer. Without a just cause or dragons to slay, he's only a frustrated fool."

"...Well, you may be right about that," said Ashley. "But, what makes you think I'm going to travel?"

"Just a feelin' I gots in my bones."

"That ain't... isn't very likely," said Ashley. "I'm finished with school. And my father will want me to run the plantation." Then he smiled. "And you're probably something I couldn't afford." He poked Lucky's belly, making it wobble. "What if I had to put you to work? You're far too fat to do anything useful."

"Then you'd be a fool," said Lucky. "For wastin' my valuable talents."

Ashley shook his head. "I may very well be a fool for not having your ass whipped. Or doing that myself. No one has ever spoken to me the way you've sassed me all day." He thought for a moment. "Why would Franklin want to sell you? And, at a price I could pay? I have some money of my own. An inheritance from an uncle. But it's only a few thousand dollars."

"That's the price of a good field buck," said Lucky. "You don't seem to think I'm worth very much."

"I think Franklin does. Though I'm dammned if I can figure out why."

Lucky looked mockingly puzzled. "I haven't the slightest idea, either. I'm eatin' him out of house an' home."

"You're all doing that," said Ashley. "At least from what I've seen today. ...Those chubby kids just playing. And Danny so fat he can't get on a horse. You must be costing Franklin a mint!"

"On the contrary, suh. We all seem to prosper under our system."

"What is the system?" asked Ashley.

"Not my place to say, suh."

"I wouldn't think that would bother you. You place yourself all over the place."

"Y'all come back an' talk with him." Lucky grinned. "I think he see some hope in you."

Ashley didn't understand, but said, "Tell you the truth, I had an idea when I first came here about maybe buying your..."

"Mammy?"

"Mother. My father had to sell our old cook, and I guess the new one ain't very good."

Lucky smiled. "Buy me and Lucy. My sister be a damn good cook. Everything you'd want... an' more." Then he laughed. "Y'all wouldn't wanna bust up a set."

"You're really serious, ain't you?"

"'Course I is."

Ashely thought of Lucinda again. "...Um... Frankin didn't intend... I mean, when Luncinda showed me up here...?"

Lucky gave Ashley a long look. "Would that have been an honorable thing? Something a noble man would do? Even if he had had every right?"

"No," said Ashley. "It wouldn't."

Chapter Five:

"Well, Juppy," asked Ashley, "Did y'all get enough to eat at Content?"

Jupiter patted his wiry middle, which looked a bit rounder this morning. The buggy rolled slowly along the swamp road beneath the towering, moss-bearded trees still dripping water from yesterday's storm. The road was flooded in places, and the buggy wheels often sank deep into mud.

"Lord, yes, Ash," sighed Jupiter. "Ah's feelin' 'bout ready to bust."

Ashley had similar feelings. He was shirtless again and wearing his hat, his trousers mostly unbuttoned. The air was growing hot once more, cleansed by the rain and still smelling fresh, but heavy and humid with rising steam. Breakfast had been surprisingly early; and Ashley had woken a little embarrassed to find Lucky snoring beside him -- under the smiling eyes of Lucinda who'd brought a pitcher of water.

It hadn't surprised him that breakfast was huge... eggs and bacon, hotcakes and sausage, thick slabs of sweet-buttered toast and jam, along with pitchers of foamy fresh milk. Unlikey as it seemed, considering his enormous size, Franklin had been dressed for work, in plain canvas trousers, incredibly large, and a blue cotton shirt as big as a sail. Ashley assumed he would check on his slaves, though he surely couldn't have ridden a horse. Although the sun had been up for an hour, Ashley could see them beyond the windows just beginning their tasks. His father would have been shocked! And the chubby children were playing again as if they had nothing else to do. Lucinda had bustled about her duties, bringing in and removing the plates while keeping Ashley's glass full of milk. Lucky had waddled in from the cook house, cheerfully whistling while toting more food.

Jupiter's voice brought Ashley back from Franklin's lavish table: "I guess it true what they say about Franklin an' how things be at Content."

"What do they say?" asked Ashley. "And how do things be?"

Jupiter seemed to consider. "Not nothin' much. Just foolish slave talk."

Ashley glanced back up the tree-shrouded road. "Slave talk ain't always foolish. I found that out a long time ago."

Jupiter chuckled. "Always suspected you did, Ash."

Ashley hadn't spoken to Franklin about Lucky's proposition last night -- best to talk with his father first before making an offer on two more slaves -- though he still didn't think he could pay the price. Franklin might have been glad to sell Lucky because he was too fat to work, but how could he manage without Lucinda, who seemed to run the house? And would he have wanted to separate twins... "bust up a set," as Lucky had said?

Lucinda had packed a hamper for Ashley; and Lucky had ridden as far as the gate to shake Ashley's hand in farewell, while Jupiter tried to look indignant at such an uppity slave.

The land was getting a little drier as the buggy drew near to Knight's Crossing. The road was still full of rivers and lakes, but these were fewer and farther between, and the ditches were running vigorously. The sun was becoming a demon again as it burned straight down through the branches and leaves, while steam ghosted up from the vine-tangled foliage.

"We could have lunch in town," said Ashley.

Juptier nodded. "I could stand to wet my whistle. Your daddy ain't as free with his beer as Massa Franklin seem to be."

"'Rewards and special occasions'," Ashley quoted his father. "Um," he added, "Y'all know something about Franklin's system?"

"'Scuse my ignorance, Ash. Just can't understand no 'systems.' Them things be over my woolly ol' head."

"I never seen such happy slaves."

"Sho' is a puzzlement, ain't it? Y'all should have you a talk with the massa."

"Maybe that's just what I'll do," said Ashley, thinking about Lucky's offer again of selling himself and his sister. He pulled off his hat and shook back his hair. "You think Franklin's system would work for us?"

"I don't think your daddy would likely approve."

"Well," said Ashley, replacing his hat. "It surely can't be too efficient... slaves havin' breakfast an hour after dawn! And none of them workin' as hard as they should. And there were two boys nearly five years old with nothing to do but climb a tree!"

Jupiter clucked his tongue. "Shameful, ain't it?"

"Oh, hush. But, I'm surprised that folks don't talk."

"Franklin mostly keep to himself," said Jupiter. "Don't seem to entertain no more since his mizzus passed on a few years back. But he always pay his debts on time. An' his credit be good anywhere in town. Content don't really grow a lot... I means for sellin', mind... but the cane an' rice be all top-notch. Massa Franklin got him a deal with some fancy cafes down in New Orleans. It all go out on the train."

Ashley grinned. "Ain't that over your woolly ol' head?"

The buggy rattled around a bend, nearing the outskirts of town. By the side of the road was a massive oak tree with tall green grass around it. A hugely fat horse stood stuffing itself... with a very fat black boy asleep on its back in the shade of the wide-spreading branches.

"Pull up, Juppy," said Ashely. "It's little Danny."

The untended horse had eaten so much that its belly had broken the saddle cinch and the straps dangled down on each side. Fortunately, it just wanted to gorge, or the slumbering boy would have fallen right off, along with the saddle and blanket. Danny was only wearing trousers, and lay with his face on the horse's shoulders, his huge bottom bare to the breeze.

Ashley climbed down from the buggy. The horse glanced up and seemed to smile, then went on placidly eating. "Hey, Danny!" called Ashley.

"Huh?" murmured Danny. "...Oh. Mornin', Massa Knight."

"I believe it's afternoon," said Ashley. "Did you get enough to eat at my house?"

"Well, yes an' no. They was surely enough, though it sure weren't the best."

"So I've heard," said Ashley.

Danny yawned and stretched, then peered up through the leaves at the sun. "S'pose I's a little bit late. Stopped off in town to buy me some candy with that money you give me last night. Then I had to find me a strong black boy to help me back up on my horse."

"Well," said Ashley, inspecting the broken cinch. "This saddle's about to fall off, and I don't have nothin' to fix it with."

"I can ride bareback," said Danny.

Considering the size of the horse -- its back as broad as the deck of a ship -- that seemed a likely solution. "Well," said Ashley. "Y'all gonna have to get down from there so we can take the saddle off. So you might as well come an' have lunch with us."

"Sho' nuff, suh!" said Danny.

Chapter Six:

Two hours later and chock full of lunch, Ashley awoke from a pleasant doze to find the buggy nearing the gates of his father's huge plantation. Its name, "Diligence," was proudly proclaimed by the wrought-iron archway and fine front gates. The drive to the stately white Big House -- massively columned and porticoed -- was neatly graveled, freshly raked, and lined with immaculate shrubbery. The fields stretched out behind the house, and the Quarters were hidden by trees.

A pair of boys around Ashley's age were cutting the acre of lush green lawn, with its brick-paved walks and sparkling pond. The boys wore shorts midway to their knees, and their midnight bodies were beautifully muscled. Ashley could admire their builds without a bit of jealousy... the boys had been bred for their bodies, and one didn't envy a muscular horse. The boys spied the buggy and stopped their work to smile and wave at Ashley. Their names were Romulus and Remus, boys he'd played with for most of his life, going swimming and fishing together. Ashley returned their greetings and wondered if he'd have the time for doing those things any more.

A little over an hour later, Ashley was up in his room. He'd been welcomed home by his mother and father, then greeted in turn by the various servants from butler down to the scullery maid. He'd brought them all presents from New Orleans... a scarf, a belt, trinkets and such, candy of course, and a few other things, including jackknives for the boys on the lawn. The field slaves would get the afternoon free, and a barbecue as their gifts.

Ashley had been curious about what his parent's reactions might be to all his extra new weight; but his mother had called him "cherubic," while his father said he looked prosperous. His mother had summoned the seamstress to measure him for all new clothes; and Ashley had finally escaped to his room, glad to be done with the fuss. The two large windows were open, though their drapes were drawn against the sun. Ashley stripped out of his sweaty shirt, kicked off his boots, and pulled off his socks. His father had joked that he smelled like a buck, so water and soap had been provided, carried in by Jupiter, who offered to help Ashley wash. Ashley had only laughed at that, and sent Jupiter down for a pitcher of beer.

Ashley opened a drawer in his dresser. There were his buckskin trousers, his favorite clothes besides his old hat. He took them out and smiled sadly, finding them much too small. He'd visit Jupiter's missus tonight and pay her to make a new pair. He found his soft old Indian boots, moccasin-toed with beaded fringe, which still seemed to fit well enough. He'd be dammed if he'd dress in evening clothes, even for supper tonight! He hoped the new cook was a little better than Jupiter had proclaimed. He splashed some water over his body, more to cool off than to actually wash.

There was a knock at the door... firm, no doubt his father's. "Come in," said Ashley.

His father entered, tall and blond. He studied his shirtless son for a moment. It wasn't a critical look, but his eyes did linger on Ashley's chest, bobby-breasted and jiggly soft. "Jupiter could give you a haircut."

"Do you disapprove of my hair?" Ashley asked. "It's always been long."

"Of course not," his father replied. "But it does make you look like a cherub. As your mother pointed out."

"One can't judge a book by its cover."

"I'm sure you're quite manly beneath your 'cover.' And a week of being back in the saddle will no doubt fix you right up."

Ashely glanced down at himself. "Is there something wrong with me now?"

"Of course not, son. I was just thinking of ladies your age. And of making a manly impression."

"Should I beat on my chest and swing from a tree?"

"A proper young lady would find that distressing."

"So I've noticed."

"Your mother is planning a homecoming party."

Ashley sighed. "I'd rather not."

"She would be very disappointed." Ashley's father smiled again. "But, until we purchase a decent cook, we're both fairly safe from her parties. ...I have a present for you, son."

The man turned slightly and beckoned. A boy peeped shyly into the room. He was dark chocolate-brown and about Ashley's age, with a newly-trimmed halo of ebony hair. He was clad in absolutely nothing, and looked and smelled carbolically clean. He was muscled like an anatomy model, and his teeth shone white in an uncertain smile as he gazed in awe around the room. His toes, Ashley noted, were spread free and wide... he'd never worn shoes in his life.

Ashley's father drew the boy in. "A gentleman of your age should have a personal servant. This is Cartwright, and he's very well bred. Although he hasn't been housebroken."

He patted the boy's solid shoulder. "I wanted a sturdy companion for you. You tend to be rough on delicate things. Nevertheless, I have been assured that he is quite intelligent. ...I certainly hope so, because I paid a lot for him when I should have bought a new cook."

"...Oh," said Ashley, thoroughly stunned.

His father turned the boy around, displaying a wide-shouldered, wedge-shaped back which still had a bit of a childish sway. "Not a whip mark on him, you see?"

"...Um, yeah," said Ashley, not knowing what else to say.

"He only arrived a short while ago," Ashley's father continued. "His master apparently made a mistake and shipped him off a day early. He had to fend for himself last night, and his clothes were rather tattered. I had him bathed, of course."

"Of course," said Ashley.

Cartwright had turned around again to shyly inspect his new master.

"Well?" asked Ashley's father. "Do you like him?"

"He's... um... perfect," said Ashley. "Um... thank you, father."

"Excellent. I'll let you get acquainted now. I've got Julia working on clothes for him, so yours will be delayed."

Cartwright raised his amber eyes and smiled a little timidly as Ashley's father left the room. "I just knowed Lucky was lucky for me!"

He was, of course, the muscular buck who Ashley had met at the railroad station.

"Yeah," agreed Ashley. "I guess he was."

"...Is everthin' all right, massa?"

"Oh," said Ashley. "It's... just fine. Couldn't be better. Um... good to see you again, Cartwright." He spread his hands. "Um, sit down. ...Would you like a glass of water?"

"No thank you, suh." Cartwright started to sit on the floor.

"No," said Ashley. "Sit on the chair. Or the bed." Feeling suddenly helpless, he went to a window and parted the drapes to look at the lawn. Peacocks strutted their rainbowy tails around the sparkling pond. Romulus and Remus were gone, having received the afternoon free... their gift of Ashley's return. Ashley heard the pad of bare feet as Cartwright came up behind him.

"What wrong, suh?" asked Cartwright. "Don't you like me?"

Ashley turned from the window. "Of course I like you, Cartwright. You're... um, perfect. ...Just what I always wanted."

"I thinks you perfect, too."

Ashley shook his head. "I sure as hell ain't perfect. Even if I looked like you, I'd still be a long way from perfect."

"I don't understand, suh."

"Ashley. My name is Ashley. At least when we're alone. ...You know about stuff like that, don't you?"

"Heard tell, anyways."

Ashley felt trapped in his big hot room. He wondered what the slave kids were doing. Then he wondered what Lucky was doing... probably eating or sleeping. Would Lucinda be tidying Franklin's house?

"There be somethin' wrong," said Cartwright. "I can tell."

"Maybe there is," said Ashley. "But it's not you."

There was a gentle knock at the door. "Come in, Juppy," said Ashley, feeling relieved.

Jupiter entered with the pitcher of beer. He'd brought two mugs, Ashley noted... of course, all the slaves would have known about Cartwright within an hour of his arrival. Jupiter smiled at the muscular youth as he set the things on a table. "Y'all got a real good massa, boy. You best be grateful an' please him."

"Oh, hush up," said Ashley. "He don't wanna hear it, and neither do I."

"Y'all wantin' anythin' else?" asked Jupiter.

Ashley turned to Cartwright. "Are you hungry? ...Don't you ever be scared to say what you want," he added when Cartwright hesitated.

"I could eat somethin', if that all right. Ain't had nothin' since yesterday when you bought me that food at the tavern, suh."

"Ashley," said Ashley.

"I sees what I can rustle up." Jupiter smiled and left.

"I, um, guess you saw a lot of the country?" said Ashley. "When you were on the train?"

"I had to ride in the baggage car. There weren't no windows."

"...Oh."

Cartwright still looked uncertain, and Ashley wanted to cheer him up. Even though he was from cheerful himself. He'd been planning to speak with his father tonight about buying Lucinda and Lucky, but what was he going to do now? His father might want Lucinda to cook; but how could Ashley justify Lucky when he already had a "squire?" What else was Lucky good for? Of course, none of this was Cartwright's fault.

"How about a beer?" Ashley asked.

"Sho'... I means, yes, please."

Ashley poured the two mugs full and handed one to Cartwright. "Stop lookin' like a nervous dog about to pee on the floor. That don't please me at all."

"I can't help it, suh... Ashley. I ain't housebroke like your daddy say, an' I don't know what I's s'posed to be doin' bein' a companion to you."

"That makes two of us," said Ashley. "Sometimes I don't feel housebroke myself. But, right now what you're supposed to be doing is drinking your beer and feeling at home."

Cartwright obediently leaned way back and titled the mug to his lips.

"Um," said Ashley. "You can take a while to enjoy it, you know?"

Cartwright smiled and wiped his mouth... he'd drained the mug in seconds. "I did enjoy it, suh... Ashley. All nice an' cool."

"Oh. We have a deep cellar. ...Feel a little better now?"

"Yeah. ...But maybe I should have me another?"

Ashley filled Cartwright's mug again, then gulped down half of his own. Cartwright drank a little slower, but his mug was dry before Ashley's.

"Yeah," said Cartwright. "I definitely does feel better. More companion-like."

Ashley drained his own mug, refilled it once more, then poured the last of the pitcher in Cartwright's. He watched as Cartwright guzzled it down and came up for air with a happier smile.

"I thinks I's gonna like it here." Cartwright laughed, then burped. "'Scuse me."

"What did you do before you got sold?"

"Help fix wagons an' such. Bit of blacksmithin', too. Got rented out to the railroad a while."

"Oh," said Ashley, feeling a little better himself. "...Well, I guess I should start taking care of you... I know, let's see how you look in buckskin. My old trousers oughta fit. ...Can you ride a horse?"

"Sho', Ashley."

"Do you like to swim?"

"Sho' does. ...But, ain't you got no work for me?"

"Oh, lots," said Ashley. "Starting right now." He went to the dresser. "Here's your first job... put these on. They might be a little big for you, but I'm sure you'll look better than me."

They were a bit big, and clung very low, while almost concealing Cartwright's feet; but Ashley thought he looked very handsome. Cartwright seemed to agree, gazing at himself in the mirror.

"Ain't never had me nothin' so fine! Thank you, Ashley!"

"Well," said Ashley, standing back and inspecting the boy. "They'll probably dress you all silly for the house. Mother will try, anyway. But you can wear those when you're with me. I'm gettin' a new pair made."

Cartwright grinned, still scanning himself in the mirror. "Then you an' me look like twins."

Ashley laughed. "You have an imagination for sure!" He put on his hat and hoisted his trousers. "Let's ride down to the river. We'll get something to eat in the kitchen." He took down his rifle from pegs on the wall -- a .50 caliber Smith -- then pulled leather pouches of caps and cartridges out of a dresser drawer. "Want to carry this, Cartwright?"

"Y'all gonna teach me to shoot?"

"Yeah," said Ashley. "Here, sling it over your shoulder." He helped Cartwright with the rifle and pouches, their leather straps across Cartwright's chest, then found his big Bowie knife. But, of course his old belt wouldn't fit.

"You might as well wear this, too," said Ashley. "Otherwise you'll be losing your trousers just like me."

Chapter Seven:

Jupiter was climbing the staircase as Ashley and Cartwright were starting down. The old man carried a cloth-covered platter, and smiled at the bare-chested boys. "I found some chicken in the pantry. Ain't nowhere as good as we had at Content, but I pronounce it etable."

The boys took two large pieces each. "We're goin' down to the river," said Ashley.

"Y'all watch out for snakes an' such. Ol' Jessup seen a 'gator last week."

The boys went out in the hot sunshine, Ashley leading the way to the stables. The sultry air seemed strangely still with the slaves enjoying their free afternoon. The blacksmith shop was deserted, a wagon wheel standing half re-spoked, the forge still smoking a little. Gone were the sounds of hammers on iron and mallets on wood, along with the clacking of clippers and shears to keep the lawns and shrubbery trimmed. The stable boy was about eleven. He'd managed to get slightly drunk -- unusual for Diligence because Ashley's father was careful with beer -- and lay half asleep in the hay bin. He scrambled quickly to his feet, though swaying a bit, when Ashley entered.

"Good to have y'all back, suh," he said, and half-smothered a burp.

Ashley ruffled the boy's bushy hair. "Thanks, Billy. Y'all grown a lot since I seen you last. I brought you this jackknife from New Orleans. And this is Cartwright, my... um, personal boy."

"Pleased to meet you," said Billy, shaking Cartwright's hand. Then he turned back to Ashley. "Y'all be wantin' Judy, suh?"

Ashley considered: Judy had been his favorite horse, but she was getting on in years. He looked down the long row of boxes and stalls where many fine horses waited, most with bright eyes and spirited heads, all seeming eager to go for a ride. "That's all right, Billy. You're supposed to be having a free afternoon. Tell Jupiter I said to give you some beer."

"Sho' nuff!" The boy trotted off.

"I ain't rode more than middlin' much," said Cartwright, finishing his last piece of chicken. "My ol' massa was careful 'bout that since we had us a couple of runaways."

"Were they caught?" asked Ashley.

"Yeah."

Ashley almost said he was sorry -- likely, they'd been whipped and branded -- but sympathy wouldn't do! He started along the line of stalls, where large dark eyes regarded him, but ignored the row of riding horses and continued past the carriage beasts. There were bigger boxes down at the end where the wagon animals were kept. Ashley stopped at a gigantic horse that was even huger than Danny's fat mount, except its mass was entirely muscle. Its hooves looked as big as barrel-heads, its back as broad as a railroad car, while the tips of its ears brushed the rafters. Like most of its kind, he was placid and gentle... maybe resigned to a life of toil. His shiny brown eyes looked curious as Ashley pulled the wooden pin and opened the gate to his stall.

Cartwright drew back in open-mouthed awe. "Lord, Ashley! I ain't never seen a horse so big!"

"He's a Clydesdale," said Ashley. "My father had him imported from Scotland to pull our new mechanical reaper. It does the work of twenty slaves, sort of like a cotton gin. ...Mind your feet," he added, as the massive horse ambled out of the stall. "If he steps on yours, he'll mash it flat. ...Find a bridle. A big one. Over there in the tack room. We'll have to ride him bareback 'cause there ain't no saddles made his size."

"How we gonna get up there?" asked Cartwright, returning with the bridle and gazing at the enormous beast.

"We'll stand on that rail. C'mon."

The horse looked over his shoulder when the boys were finally seated. He seemed more surprised than anything else -- no one had ever ridden him before -- though he probably didn't notice the weight. He clopped calmly out in the steamy sunlight after Ashley nudged him a bit with his heels. The boys had to duck to clear the doorway.

"I don't think we'll go for a gallop," said Ashley as the huge horse sort of strolled along, seeming to shake the earth with each step.

"I'd sooner not," said Cartwright. "It a long ways down to the ground!" He clung with his arms around Ashley's waist, though after a while he relaxed a bit.

They passed near the edge of the Quarters. The ancient cabins were built of logs, and looked like tumbledown chicken coops compared to the Quarters at Franklin's plantation. There certainly weren't any flowers, growing wild or otherwise. The slaves' barbecue was in progress, and the scent of pork roasting made Ashley's mouth water. A cart held two wooden barrels, and beer was sparingly being dispensed by one of the trusted houseboys.

Ashley studied the slaves: none were unhealthily skinny or thin, and a few of the youngest kids were chubby, not having been put to work yet. The men and boys were mostly muscle, but they'd been bought or bred for that. Romulus and Remus waved, as did most of the others. But, Ashley noticed a sulky face -- something his father had taught him to watch for -- eyes that met his a little too long. A muscular boy of about sixteen had definitely shot him a glare. Ashley made note of that face in his mind as the horse ambled on toward the river.

A few minutes later they arrived at an oxbow lagoon. The water looked cool and inviting, a deep and glassy emerald green, shaded by oak and cyprus trees. A few slave kids were swimming; boys all less than eight-years-old, laughing, splashing, enjoying themselves. They stopped their play when the huge horse appeared, but then saw Ashley and ran to meet him, then inspected Cartwright. All seemed impressed that he carried the rifle along with Ashley's Bowie knife.

"Is the food ready, suh?" asked the oldest boy. He tried to take the horse's bridle, but couldn't reach that high.

"Smells just about," replied Ashley. "Y'all better run before it's all gone."

The kids dashed giggling back up the path as Ashley slid to the ground. He landed rather heavily, still not used to all his new weight. Cartwright dismounted as light as a cat. Ashley tied the reins to a tree and left the horse in a shady spot, then slipped off his trousers and pulled off his hat, hanging them on a bush.

Cartwright smiled as he got undressed. "I never seen a white boy naked."

Ashley glanced down at himself. "Nothin' much different that I can see. Though I hope to get me some color back soon."

Ashley and Cartwright swam for a while, then Ashley gave Cartwright some shooting lessons. Cartwright's aim was remarkably good, and Ashley patted his sturdy shoulder after he'd clipped a twig from a tree. "You'll be better than me in a week."

Cartwright lowered the smoking rifle. "Thanks, Ashley. Y'all the best massa I ever had."

"You've had more than one?"

"I got sold a couple of times. First when I was jus' a baby. Don't hardly 'member my mammy at all."

"Oh," said Ashley, feeling sad, though that was foolish.

Cartwright cocked his head and listened. "Is somebody else goin' swimmin' somewheres?"

Ashley listened, too. "There's a creek beyond the trees over there. It's only for girls. But, you'll get whipped with a willow stick if you're ever caught peepin' that place. It's one of our rules at Diligence." Ashley laughed. "Jupiter whopped my behind a few times."

Cartwright's mouth dropped open. "He did?"

"And it hurt, too." Ashley laughed again. "C'mon. You can leave the rifle here."

"But, what about the rule, Ashley?"

"Them who make 'em can always break 'em. ...C'mon, this way. And be quiet! Pretend you're a African boy in the jungle. I used to pretend that a lot."

Both still naked, Ashley led Cartwright along a faint path -- naturally there was a path, used by both sexes to spy on each other -- that wound through the vine-tangled trees. The sounds of girlish laughter and splashing grew more distinct as the boys crept along, careful of stepping on dry leaves or twigs. At last Ashley stopped beneath a large oak and leaned against Cartwright to whisper: "You get the best vantage up there."

Ashley climbed quickly into the tree, Cartwright following close behind. The branches were heavy and spreading wide, and a gap in the leaves revealed a view of three ebony girls in emerald water. Two were about fourteen or so, the third a few years younger.

"Oh, lord!" murmured Cartwright, pressed against Ashley and peering eagerly over his shoulder. "This be worth a whippin' to see!"

"Yeah," agreed Ashley, scanning the scene. "The chubby one's gotta be Julia's daughter. ...Damn, but she grew in a year!"

"I thinks she the prettiest, too," whispered Cartwright. "What's her name?"

"Angel."

"Lord, she sho' is!"

Ashley glanced back at Cartwright and smiled. "I'll introduce you to her tonight."

"Um, I's terrible shy around girls, Ash. I never know what to say."

"Yeah," murmured Ashley. "I always make a fool of myself."

"Does you know any? Personal like?"

"How personal are you talkin'?"

"More than a little, but not over much."

Ashley thought of Lucinda, but it didn't seem proper to tell Cartwright that a slave girl awakened... well, feelings in him. "There's a girl at another plantation," he said. "A white one, I mean. Mother kept shovin' her at me at parties, but she be a terrible snob."

"She pretty?" asked Cartwright.

"Hard to tell 'cause she always in clothes... proper clothes for a white girl, I mean. Right on down to the ankles. I saw her ankles once, but I didn't think they were all that much."

"Um," said Cartwright. "I 'spect there was girls in 'Nawlins?"

"Lots," said Ashley. "But, no, I never, if that's what you're askin'."

"Oh."

"How about you?"

"No, but I thinks about it a lot."

"That makes two of us," said Ashley. "I feel like a randy buck nig... slave boy."

"That make two of us," said Cartwright.

Chapter Eight:

The sun was low in the western sky, touching the treetops over the swamp, as Ashley and Cartwright came back down the path and arrived at the boys' swimming hole. Cartwright laughed. "This been the best day of my life, Ash!"

Ashley put on his trousers and clamped on his hat. "No work, you mean?"

"No," said Cartright. "I means gettin' sold to you."

"Oh," said Ashely. "Thanks. It's good havin' you. But, the day ain't over yet. I 'spect you'll like the Big House food... though I'm told it's been far from excellent lately."

The sky was turning rose and pink, and shadows were deepening under the trees as the gigantic horse ambled leisurely home. The air was growing a little cooler, and carried the scents of roasted pork, buttered yams and collard greens as they neared the edge of the Quarters.

"Lord, I'm hungry," said Cartwright. "Feel like I could eat this horse."

"You and me both," agreed Ashley. "...Um," he added. "Supper might take some getting used to. You're going to have to wait on me."

"Til you done with your eatin'?"

"Well, that, too. But, I meant you have to serve me. It's mostly just standing beside my chair, 'cause the house servants do all the serving. But then you'll eat in the kitchen."

Cartwright shrugged. "I s'pose I gots a lot to learn, belongin' to you."

"So do I," said Ashley. "I could have supper sent up to my room and we could eat together, but this is the first night I been home, so I shouldn't weasel out of it."

"I understand, Ash."

"I'll make sure you ain't standing there hungry." Ashley laughed. "And if you can't manage to grab a few bites, then you ain't as smart as I think you are."

"S'pose I gots to dress up, like you said?"

"I'm afraid so. But, I'll have Jupiter tend to that. He won't make you look like a fool."

The huge horse suddenly came to a stop as a figure lurched out from behind a tree. Ashley took a firm grip on the reins, but the horse was too big to be spooked. The shadows were rapidly darkening, and Ashley squinted his eyes in the dusk, seeing the buck who had glared at him... about sixteen and massively muscled in nothing but ragged trousers. He was almost too drunk to stand up. Ashley scented raw whiskey, and saw the faint glint of a bottle in hand.

"You got no right!" yelled the boy, staggering closer and almost falling. The horse regarded him curiously.

"The devil you takin' about?" snapped Ashley. "You get the hell out my way right now, an' maybe I'll forget this."

"You ain't no better than me!" bawled the boy. "You ain't no better than any of us! You got no right to keep us your slaves!"

"Take the reins, Cartwright," said Ashley. "Mind the horse, though he don't seem bothered. He could step on that fool like a fly." Ashley started to slide to the ground, but Cartwright caught his arm.

"No, Ash! He gots a knife!"

"I see it," said Ashley, dropping to earth. He stepped to the big drunken boy, who was taller than him by a foot. "Who gave you that bottle?" Ashley demanded. "You know hard liquor ain't allowed."

"You got no right!" yelled the boy again, and defiantly took another drink, almost toppling backward.

"I got every right under God!" roared Ashley. He reached up and jabbed his fingertip against the boy's brawny chest. "It say in the Bible I got dominion over all the animals! An' that's what you are... an animal, boy! It's my duty to God to take care of you, and I been doin' the best I can! Look at yourself! Ain't you ashamed?"

"Liar!" shouted the boy, though he stumbled backward a step. He clutched the bottle in one hand. The other dropped to the knife at his side.

Ashley heard Cartwright loading the rifle, the block snapping shut on a cartridge, the click of the hammer pulled back. "No," he called without turning around. "This is a good boy, Cartwright. He's just a little drunk, is all. I'm sure he'll be sorry tomorrow. ...Won't you, boy? Somebody told you to say that, didn't they? Some lyin' nigger come sneakin' around to fill up your head with foolish ideas. ...Some nigger who's far away right now, while you're just getting yourself in trouble. ...Ain't that so?"

The boy said nothing, but now looked confused. He stood there swaying dangerously, a hand on the hilt of his big sheath knife, the other grasping the bottle.

"Talk to me," said Ashley. "It's all right, I understand."

The boy started to take another drink, his other hand still on the knife. But then he hesitated. "Colored folks be free in the North." He sucked a breath. "Do what they want. Go where they want. An' you can't buy an' sell us up there!"

"Is that what the nigger told you?" asked Ashley. "He be lyin' through his teeth like a whispering serpent from hell."

The big youth almost fell again. Ashley grabbed him around the waist. It took all his strength to hold the boy up.

"Why he do that?" the boy demanded. His hand fell away from the knife.

"'Cause he's jealous of you," said Ashley.

"Why he be jealous of me?" asked the boy, his slurred voice sounding uncertain. "I can't leave this place! Gotta work in the sun all day!"

"Of course," said Ashley. "But that's only right. It's what God intended for you. You'd go straight to hell if you didn't work."

Ashley turned the boy slightly, steadying him with gentle hands, and pointed off toward the Quarters. The fire pit glowed ruddy-red in the dusk, and the people and children were gathered around it. A harp and a banjo were playing.

"Look there," said Ashley. "Ain't that a sight to make you happy? Colored folk don't have all that in the North. Up there you'd work in some dark factory all full of great big noisy machines... things that could rip off your arms and legs, or crush you to death like this horse. And nobody'd care if that happened! You'd never see the sun at all 'cause you'd be inside from dawn till dusk. And watched like a hawk by a foreman to make sure you sweated for every penny! And nobody'd care if you had a bed, or a roof to sleep under at night. You'd have to manage all that by yourself. And you'd have to buy your own clothes, too. It's cold, up there. It snows in the winter. You'd need lots of clothes or you'd freeze to death. ...And nobody'd care if you did. You could die in the street under somebody's window, and they'd haul your body away like trash!"

The big boy fell silent, leaning on Ashley. The only sounds were his drunken breaths and the distant music and laughter.

"And what if you got sick?" Ashley added. "You can't see a doctor unless you got money. That's how it is in the North. If you don’t have money, then nobody cares! You call that being 'free'?" Ashley studied the big boy's face. "I know you, you're Jessup's boy... Jimmy. I care about you, Jimmy. If you got sick, I'd fetch the doctor. Any time of day or night. I'd send somebody to sit by your bed. You know I would, don't you, Jimmy?"

The boy's solid body went slack. He sagged against Ashley, while Ashley struggled to hold him up.

"And what about when you get old?" said Ashley. He patted Jimmy's back. "I know that's a long time away for you, but who'd take care of you up in the North when you're too old to work anymore? When the factory owners have used up your strength? Y'all think they feed you when you get old? You think they got a comfortable place where you can just sit in the sun?"

"I's sorry, massa," Jimmy sobbed. He lowered his face to Ashley's shoulder, his tears running warm down Ashley's chest.

Ashley continued to stroke the boy's back. "That's all right, Jimmy. Somebody got you all confused with lies an' freedom nonsense. But, I know what's best, and I care about you. ...Y'all just give me that bottle now and go off to bed like the good boy you are." He helped the boy stand upright again. "Remember who really cares, Jimmy. Y'all come talk to me any time if you're feelin' sad or confused again. I'm always here, Jimmy, 'cause I'm your master. And I'll always tell you the truth."

Jimmy sniffled and wiped his face. "Thank you, massa."

Ashley patted the big boy's shoulder. "I forgive you."

Jimmy stumbled slowly away, leaving Ashley with the near-empty bottle. Cartwright lowered the rifle.

"Lord, I was scared for you, Ash!"

"It's those damn northern niggers!" growled Ashley. "Sneakin' down here an' stirring up trouble! Or white Agitators! I wish they were all at the devil!" He blew out a breath and wiped sweat from his chest, then took a long drink and made a face. "He probably got this from some white trash. Who ought to be hung!" He tossed the bottle to Cartwright, who took a drink and grimaced.

"Lord, that's nasty!"

"Well, that's over," said Ashley, pulling up his trousers.

"I boost you back up on the horse, Ash."

"That's all right," said Ashley. "It's a good night for a walk."

"I walks with you." Cartwright slid lightly to earth and slung the rifle over a shoulder. Then he took the reins and led the horse as they walked up the path toward the Big House. For a while there were only the sounds of insects, the heavy clop of enormous hooves, and the laughter of children down at the Quarters mingled with gentle music. The boys shared the last of the bottle, both making faces each time they drank. Then Cartwright asked:

"It true 'bout us bein' animals, Ash? An' you supposed to care for us?"

Ashley paused for a moment, then studied Cartwright's face in the twilight. "You aren't an animal, Cartwright. But I still got a duty to care for you."

"'Cause God want you to?"

"...Well, yeah," said Ashley. "But there's some things we best not talk about."

Chapter Nine:

"These lamb chops seem a bit underdone," said Ashley's mother. She smiled across the titanic table, over an acre of snowy white cloth and past the silver candle stands. "Don't you think, my dear?"

Ashley stabbed his chop with a knife. "Only on one side. On the other they're done for the devil!"

Beside him, Cartwright smothered a snicker. This seemed to be getting more difficult as he learned about meals in the Big House, which had only been legends to him. He was also more than slightly drunk, which seemed to have freed his sense of humor and banished his normal slave caution. He leaned on the back of Ashley's chair, his posture loose, his tummy stuck out like those of the near-naked little boys -- Tommy, eight, and Willie, nine -- who leisurely waved long palm-leaf fans to provide some relief from the heat.

Jupiter had dressed Cartwright in one of Ashley's white linen shirts and a pair of Ashley's older trousers... the latter a little too big for him and slipping low on his hips. Jupiter had dispensed with shoes, knowing they'd only hurt Cartwright's feet, and had also omitted a jacket. Although it was evening the air was volcanic, and made even hotter by candles and lamps. Cartwright's shirt was half unbuttoned, but thoroughly soaked with sweat anyway.

Like Ashley's father had said, Cartwright was a very fast learner: Ashley's beer mug had been less than full when Cartwright had served him the first time, and the refills that followed grew steadily smaller. Ashley's food was neatly arranged to hide what had gone into Cartwright's mouth between the kitchen and dining table. Ashley didn't mind -- he could always have seconds or thirds if he wished -- and he minded less as the meal went on because most of it would have shamed a cafe in the shabbiest railroad station.

"Really, Ashley," his father said, though leaving his own chop unmolested. "I'm sure Betty's doing her best."

"Her best to exterminate us!" said Ashley. "This is just awful!"

Cartwright seemed about to choke. His shoulders shook as he fought back a laugh, while the little fan boys were openly grinning. They wore only white cotton shorts, and looked very cool though rather bored, eternally waving the fans.

"Here," said Ashley, handing his beer mug to Cartwright. "Cleanse your palate, then taste this please. Perhaps you can tell me what it was before it came to defile this table."

Ashley's father raised an eyebrow. "I don't think we need your servant's opinion."

"I'd very much like to have it, suh," replied Ashley. He held out a pink-and-black piece of meat. "It may decide my next course of action... whether to kill or to bury this... thing." >

"Well, suh," said Cartwright, chewing. "Whatever it used to be, I pronounce it very nasty now."

Ashley offered his mug again. "Thank you, Cartwright. Perhaps you'll want to wash away that thoroughly disgusting taste? I wouldn't dream of subjecting you to this... substance... which passes for 'mint-sauce.' I have tasted better things of green floating upon the surface of swamps."

Ashley's mother put a napkin to her lips, concealing a smile, and her slim shoulders quivered a bit.

"Ashley," said his father. "Perhaps you've simply grown accustomed to New Orleans cuisine? We are, after all, in the country."

"Actually, suh," said Ashley. "The red beans and rice are superb. The boudin sausage is excellent, and I've always liked my mashed potatoes a bit on the lumpy side. Nor do I disapprove of the gravy. The collard greens surpass themselves, and the same may be said for the corn-on-cob." He smiled at his father. "But, perhaps we tax poor Betty's skills beyond her former station? I should love to sample her hog maws and chitlins. And I'm sure she does wonders with pig's feet and yams."

Cartwright almost choked again, and the little boys giggled out loud. Ashley patted Cartwright's back. "Maybe there's something stuck in your throat? A bit of braised hoof, or some barbecued wool? Wash it down by all means. Then fetch me another beer, if you please."

"Really, Ashley!" exclaimed his father as Cartwright left the dining room, walking a little unsteadily. "You'll spoil that boy before you know it! He's eaten and drunk as much as you. His place to eat is out in the kitchen. After you've been served."

"I'm using him as my food-taster, father. Just like back in the days of yore when princes were poisoned at table. He hasn't suffered convulsions yet, which does seem to prove he's a sturdy companion."

"Perhaps we should have dessert now?" his mother suggested. "Betty has made peach pie tonight."

"Pity the peaches!" groaned Ashley.

His father pushed his chop away. A maid removed it instantly and carried it off to the kitchen.

"Beware it doesn't bound up and baaa," called Ashley. "At least the half that wasn't cremated!"

The elderly butler suppressed a smile. "Coffee, suh?" he asked.

"I think not, Jacob, thank you," said Ashley, as Cartwright returned with his beer. This time the mug was only half full, and Cartwright stumbled a bit.

"This was the last in the kitchen, suh." He plopped the mug in front of Ashley, then grabbed the chair for support. "Y'all want me to go to the cellar?"

"Later, thank you," said Ashley, then whispered, "Pull up your trousers." He added in a normal voice, "Have you seen the pie, faithful squire?"

"I has, suh," said Cartwright. "An' I must say it look very nasty."

"Oh dear," said Ashley's mother.

"Dammit!" exploded Ashley's father, flinging down his napkin. "I won't have much more of this!"

"Beggin' your pardon, suh," said Cartwright. "But if y'all speakin' about that pie, I wouldn't advise havin' none of it."

Ashley gave Cartwright a poke in the side.

"Oh dear!" said Ashley's mother again. "How can I ever entertain when the food is..."

"Swill?" suggested Ashley; and the little boys burst into giggles again.

"Ashley!" snapped his father, as Cartwright broke out laughing. The butler stepped quickly into the kitchen, shooing the maid ahead.

"I'm very delighted with Cartwright," said Ashley, while pinching Cartwright's arm very hard. "And I thank you with all my heart for him. But I realize now what a sacrifice you made." He slipped his arm around Cartwright's waist, mostly for security. "What is the price of a decent cook?"

His father sighed. "In the caliber of poor old Lizzie? ...Damn that snip of a daughter of hers! ...Considerably more than I paid for your boy. Don't trouble yourself about that, son." The man quickly warmed to the subject of business. "Of course, I got him cheaply because he wasn't housebroken. And naturally I allowed his master to believe I wanted him for work. Had I mentioned 'companion,' I have no doubt his price would have doubled." He sighed again. "But it's not so much a matter of money. It seems as if all the truly skilled cooks are down in New Orleans these days. Or else aboard the riverboats." He paused for a thoughtful moment. "Seth Franklin has an excellent cook, according to what I've heard. That's not very hard to believe, considering Franklin's... size."

Ashley took a swallow of beer while holding on to Cartwright. "Has he always cut such a prosperous figure?"

"He's always been quite large."

Ashley's mother smiled. "He and his wife... bless her soul... had the grandest parties out at Content! And the food was simply delicious! It was always worth that long drive through the swamp."

"How is he these days?" asked Ashley's father.

"Quite large," said Ashley, then added, "For such a small plantation, he seems to be doing well. He's apparently devised a new system to manage his slaves. But, while they seem happy, and don't appear to need much supervision, there seems to be room for improvement in terms of saleable production and possibly net profit."

"Excellent!" cried Ashley's father. "A year of expensive education wasn't wasted on you." He turned to his wife. "He actually used the words 'production' and 'profit'."

"I'm sure that's very nice, dear."

Ashley went on: "Franklin and his servants seem very content. If I may make a pun, suh."

"I've heard some talk," said his father. "That he's letting his slaves get lazy. I saw that young boy of his last night. I've never seen a child so fat! Let alone a slave! It's a wonder he's able to earn his keep!"

Ashley thought of Lucky. "Well," he said, after downing his beer. "I hope to learn about Franklin's system. Perhaps with some modifications..."

"Our own has always sufficed," said his father. "Treat your slaves well, but with firm discipline. It's as simple as training a dog." He glanced at one of the fan boys. "A bit faster, Tommy, you look half asleep. ...See that they're properly cared for. Cull the rebellious and recalcitrant. And breed for strength and docility." he smiled. "We haven't had a whipping in years."

Tommy began fanning vigorously.

"Um," said Cartwright, reaching for Ashley's mug. "Should I go to the cellar now?"

"Y'all go eat," said Ashley.

"Thank you, massa."

Ashley pinched him again.

"Would you like a cigar, Ashley?" asked his father. "In the library? I'd enjoy hearing more of your thoughts on production."

Ashley glanced to the kitchen doorway, where Jupiter had appeared. The old man gave him a nod, and Ashley manufactured a yawn. "Pardon me, father. I didn't get much sleep last night... the storm and all. With your and mother's permission, I beg to be excused."

"Of course, son." His father glanced at Cartwright as the boy stumbled out through the kitchen door. "I assume you've made arrangements for him?"

"Huh?" said Ashley, about to get up.

"Where is going to sleep, son? He's your responsibility now... keeping him bathed so he doesn't smell, making sure he's decently dressed. And training him in every way so he can serve you properly. You'll have to look after his health... be sure he cleans his teeth and such. Keep his hair trimmed to your satisfaction. ...And always make him remember his place. A gentleman is judged by his servant. And, often it's the servant himself who makes the first impression. Such as Frankin's messenger. If I wasn't acquainted with the man I would have thought the worst of him for sending such an impertinent boy!"

"Oh... yeah," said Ashley, thinking of Lucky again. Ashley was delighted with Cartwright. He wouldn't have said he would rather have Lucky -- who was really quite impertinent -- but of course the boys were completely different. "He'll sleep in my room."

"If you wish," said his father. "But not on the floor. You should have had a cot set up. And seen about his personal needs... a basin, soap, towels, wash-cloth, a pitcher of water, a drinking glass. ...Of course, you don't want him using your own. And a separate chamber pot. ...All of that is your duty to him. He is certainly more than a pet."

"Well," said Ashley. "He can sleep with me tonight, and I'll see to the rest in the morning."

His father nodded. "I advise you to make sure he bathes again. He's been sweating like a pony all evening, no doubt unaccustomed to being indoors. Just be careful, as I've already warned, that you don't spoil your boy. There are few things more disgusting than servant who's over-familiar. I fear that Franklin has allowed this to happen. His stable boy... a stable boy!... was critical of his supper last night. Also his breakfast this morning! Jacob was very upset. Had you not sent a message to treat him well... he slept in the kitchen, by the way... I would have caned his impudent bottom!" He glanced at the little boys, who were smiling. "You may go."

Ashley rose a bit heavily, and another button popped on his trousers. Although the main courses had been rather "nasty," he'd eaten a lot of the lesser fare -- rice and beans, potatoes and such -- and was more than comfortably full. He came around the massive table to kiss his mother's cheek.

"It's good to have you home, son." She tucked in his straining shirt, then sighed. "Wouldn't it be so very nice if Franklin would sell us his cook?"

Ashley's father laughed. "Fat chance of that, my dear!"