III

Master Emmett and his boy came back close to supper on the night of March 3rd. Hosea only knew it was March 3rd because he had been keeping track since Christmas, there being sixty and eight notches in his frail bedframe. The old man refused to allow them calendars in the black quarters, but the missus was kind enough to bring them a hot dinner Christmas night, and he’s kept track of the sunsets since.

“That’s the northerners for ya,” Hosea told Zella as they ate. “They treat us like humans, but still keep us property.”

In the forty seasons he had known Emmett Landry, not once did the man bring him a hot meal. He turned soft when he met the missus—softer than he was, anyway. Even when he was a child, and Hosea was plowing his father’s fields and tending to his father’s horses, Emmett never gave him a meal. He was kind as Hosea taught him to ride, and let him sit in on lessons—reading and writing—once in a while. Hosea learned more than the white boy did, more than likely, but never earned the kindness of a hot meal.

So he and his boy rode in that night, struck spooked and pale white in the late evening sun. Hosea and Lee were just finishing with the horses, while Clyde and Wiley were tending the hotbeds, and Zella was likely preparing a meal for the family with the wife. He had no idea where sweet Eveline was, but she would do just fine on her own.

“Where’d my daddy go?” Lee asked him.

“He went to help a friend,” Hosea replied.

“Should I have gone with Thomas?”

“No, sir. Your momma made him a bowl and sent him on his way. That was right.”

“Yes, sir.”

“I ain’t no sir, sir. I’m just Hosea.”

Every day was the same with the boy. Hosea was awake before the sun. He would check the water, look over the stalls, and set out the feed. Lee was woken at first light by his father and collected from the house. Lee would gather eggs, refill feeding troughs, let chickens out of the coop and check for any sick birds. Every once in a while he would move too sharply and scare the hens, and Hosea always corrected him quietly.

They would drive the cows to water, or Lee would hold a bucket while Hosea milked. Clyde and Wiley would collect the manure, that was below the young boy’s responsibilities. Horses were brushed, and any time Lee chose to stand directly behind a horse Hosea would gently guide him away. One time, when Emmett and Matthew were in Richmond, Hosea pushed Lee down just so he would know what might happen.

Afternoons were largely spent teaching Lee how to ride a horse. Zella would often watch from nearby until her time to tend to the kitchen came. Eveline would watch from the house most days, and Hosea never told the master about it. It wasn’t his place.

His dreaded conversation with Lee came only three days after Emmett and Matthew returned from the Fletcher’s farm. The sixth of March. Hosea only knew it was the sixth of March because it had been three days since the third of March, which meant three extra notches in his frail bedframe, for a total of seventy and one.

“Hosea?” he called from beneath the cow. “Why is daddy acting strange?”

Hosea looked up at the barn. He had noticed the behavior himself. Instead of keeping his eyes on the river, like he usually did, Emmett Landry was watching the woods. Sometimes he would swing himself out of the open doors on the second floor. Sometimes he would lean his chair back to peek out the shutters. To the east lay civilization, land filled with people. Rich people, poor people, devil people, good people. White people. Blacks. The only thing that lay between civilization and the wilderness was farmland. The Landrys, the Thompsons, a few others, and beyond that, the Fletchers.

Hosea knew the area well enough. He knew that away from the river, if the sun were setting to the right, the Fletchers built their farm. That was south. He knew that in the direction the sun rose were cities, armies. He knew, even though the fine white people told him otherwise, that across the river he would still be a slave. He’d lived most of his life with the Landrys, on this land, and never had he seen Emmett watching the woods.

“Your daddy is just tryna protect his kin. That’s all, sir.”

“Protect us from what?”

He’d had the same conversation with Emmett, back when the master was Lee’s age. Emmett’s father had told him to bite his tongue over superstition, nearly cut it out of him when he’d found out he’d run it. It was his woman’s mercy that had saved Hosea.

“I tell every young master and every young missus this story. I give them all the same deal. Can you make me a deal, sir, just this once?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I ain’t no sir, sir. You must never tell your father I told you this. You understand? It could put me in the hole.”

“Yes, s—yes, I understand.”

“Good, now hold that bucket still for me.” He squeezed the cow’s teat in his hand downward. A faltering stream of white plopped into the bucket. “I think that’s about enough here. Let me help you with that bucket.”

They walked from the barn, the dry sun blinding Hosea enough that he slipped in his boot. A little milk sloshed out of his bucket, but when he looked up to the barn Emmett’s attention was still elsewhere.

“Sir, the story I’m about to tell you is all folk. You understand? We don’t know what’s true and what’s not.”

“I understand.”

“Good. Remember our deal now. When the white man first settled this land, you know there were other people here?”

“The Indians, right?”

“Yes, sir. Not India Indians, but savage Indians we know here. They was here before the white man, and between us I suspect they’ll be here after.”

“But we’re here now—”

“I know that. But listen to this story and you’ll get my meaning. It’s important.” He waited for a response, but when he looked over all he saw was Lee’s bright blue eyes staring back at him, waiting. “Now, these Indians, they lived in towns that they call tribes.”

“Like the… ‘Sunian?’”

“Siouan, sir, yes. There were more, like Algonquian, Iroquoian, and… God, too many to count. I think some of those might have been smaller tribes that became larger, but most people just blanket them as savages.”

“Like a city?”

“Sure, if the city moved from place to place. We moved them all out beyond the mountains so we could have this land.”

“Away from home?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I wouldn’t want to go away from home. Why’d they have to leave?”

“That’s a story for another day. I met one of these savage Indians once. It was a long time ago. I was a boy about your age, before your father was born and before I knew your father’s father. I was lost in the woods—he saved my life.”

“Did he bring you home to us?”

“Yes, sir, he did. Well, he gave me to someone to give to you, let’s put it that way. And not for cheap, neither. But the man saved my life, and he gave me some lessons. One of them I’ll tell you now.”

Hosea set the bucket on a bench as Zella came running out the front door of the house.

“You got it?” he asked.

“Yessuh. Miss Caroline is expecting it.”

“Very good. Young master, shall we tend to the horses?” They walked off, back toward the green and brown fenced field where the horses ran wild.

“He taught you a lesson?”

“Yes, sir. This man, I never learned his name, he told me a few rules for living here. Rules I’ve lived by since, and that I believe everyone who passes through here must live by. Some don’t, and they’re all right. Some do, and they’re not.

“Rule One: Never enter the woods at night. Don’t do it alone; don’t do it with people. Don’t go whistling; ignore the voices you hear; don’t go looking at deer or trees or streams. There are things crawling around in the dark out in the woods when the sun sets, and you don’t want these things to see you.

“Rule Two,” he raised two fingers. “Comes from Rule One. Ignore voices that call your name unless you see the person doing it. If you can’t see it, you don’t hear it. If we went out into the woods right now and got separated, and you heard me calling for you but didn’t see me, you didn’t really hear me. Same with whistling. You understand this one?”

“Yes,” Lee said. “I think so.”

“Repeat them back to me please.”

“Don’t go out at night, don’t answer my name.”

“Good. Remember the details. Only not when you can’t see what’s calling you. Rule Three: Don’t touch anything dead. Sometimes you’ll come across a deer or a hog, move on. Don’t stand there and stare like we do at the town fool. Your best chance is to run, and run until you can’t run no more.

“Rule Four: If you hear a woman scream, it wasn’t a woman. There ain’t no woman out there in so much peril as to scream like that. If there is, she is already dead. Trust me when I say you cannot save her—”

“What if it's momma?” Lee asked.

“Mistress Caroline would be right by your side, sir. She wouldn’t go leaving you alone in those woods now, would she?”

“No.”

“Good. Now, what are the rules so far? Remind me, sir.” “Don’t go out at night. Don’t answer my name.” Lee quickly jotted out two fingers, and slowly raised a third. “Don’t touch any dead animals.”

“Don’t touch anything dead, sir. Anything.”

“Don’t touch anything dead. And don’t… don’t scream?”

“Don’t go chasing screams.”

“Rule Four: Don’t go chasing screams.”

“Good, sir. Rule Five: If you must go out, light a fire big enough to last you all night. Don’t sleep. Sit next to that flame and let it burn you, because whatever suffering you might feel it’s better than what might happen if that fire goes out. This one is the most important. If you ignore all else, let that fire consume you before you let the darkness come near.”

The boy watched as his horse galloped across the field. Hosea reached for his shoulder, but paused just before placing his hand. He looked back at the barn one more time, finding Emmett wandering around the second level. He laid his hand on the fence instead.

“The man found me in the woods, sir. I was alone. I was hearing things I didn’t know I shouldn’t have been hearing. I couldn’t recall what exactly it was to you now if I tried, just that something was wrong. I understand if you think this fanciful, too foolish to be true. I thought it that way for a while, and then I heard another old negro tell the same. His name was Malachi, and every day I wonder where he ended up. Mal was smart, smarter than your k—the masters gave him credit for.”

“How’s that?” Lee asked.

“Mal had a gift of some kind. I couldn’t explain it to you, he would have to do that. But he knew things before they would happen, and he told my people the same warnings when they came around to the farm. He’d say ‘Don’t go in them woods at night or it’ll get you.’ I don’t know what the ‘it’ is, and I ain’t willing to find out.”

Hosea dropped to a knee as Mo came closer to the fence. He pulled the apple from his pocket and gave it to Lee. “Put your hand through there, just like that, give it gentle.”

“What happened to the Indian?”

“Not sure, I assume he was sent off with the rest of his kind out beyond the mountains.”

“Have you ever been out there?”

“Beyond the woods? Sir, I barely go in the woods. Only when I have to. There’s something about it that scares me.”

“You’re scared?”

“And not too scared to admit it. Sir, if you take anything from our lessons today, take this. Never, ever, go into those woods unless you have to. You can go around them to the south, you can go up to New York or Boston, you can live right here on this land for the rest of your life. Whatever you do, do not enter those woods.”

“Lee!” Eveline called from the door of the house. “C’mon inside! I got something to show you!”

Lee looked down at Hosea, still kneeling in the dirt. “Go on, now. You don’t need me to tell you. You’re the master here.” Lee smiled and ran off, kicking up dirt in his wake.

Hosea stood, wiping the dirt from his hands where he used them to steady himself. He gave a sigh and walked to the barn, where he picked up a brush and reins, just in case. The boy was likely to stay inside for the rest of the afternoon, and that was just as well.

He walked out to the patch where the family’s horses pranced. Buckeye stood at the feeding trough, Opal on the far side avoiding Hosea as best as he could. That was a wild one, still not familiar with the brush.

He approached Mo, the calmest of the three. He laid a hand on the back of his neck and gently brushed the dirt and dust off his side. Lee took good care of his new steed, even if he was often distracted.

Hosea looked off toward the woods. He felt his gut twist, and the muscles in his neck tense. His hand clutched the brush as a weapon, and every instinct told him to run in the opposite direction. It was largely true, what he told Lee. He wasn’t sure what might be out there. He wasn’t even sure if there was anything out there, perhaps it had all been a trick of his mind, as Mal wanted it to be. Yet, that thing he’d told Lee he couldn’t remember—the thing he heard when the Indian found him—echoed in his mind, and he kept one eye on the trees, never fully turning his back to the woods.