“What can I do for you, Morrisey?” Jonathan asked the man.
“You can start by getting me some whiskey. Me and my boys done drained our last jug last night.” He pushed one of the youths toward the counter. “Sam here knows what else that fool woman of mine thinks she needs.”
“A new husband,” said Mabel loudly.
Morrisey glared at her. “Enough out of you, old woman. My Bess does fine. Ain’t I given her ten strapping boys?”
Mabel snorted. “One right after another till the poor thing looks as old and dried up as I do.”
Clover was fascinated by the way Mabel snapped at the huge, ill-tempered man. A slight movement at her skirts distracted her and she looked down into the huge brown eyes of the smallest boy who had entered with Morrisey. He was staring at her as if he had never seen anyone like her before. As she tried to think of something to say, she realized that dirt was not the sole reason for his darker skin tone. Some of the darker patches were actually large bruises and his small nose had a kink in it as if it had been broken and had healed crookedly. As she leaned down to take a closer look, the boy slowly reached out with one bone-thin dirty hand and touched her cheek. Before she could say anything, he was pushed aside so hard that he fell to the floor. Clover looked up to see Morrisey grab the child by the front of his ragged shirt and lift him up.
“Stupid brat, I told you, you ain’t to be touching white women.”
Clover watched in openmouthed shock as the man hit the small boy with a closed fist, threw him to the floor, and kicked him viciously. Without a second’s hesitation, she dropped the bolts of cloth save forone and, as Morrisey bent to grab the boy again, she slammed the heavy bolt of cloth against his head. He bellowed a curse, staggered back a few steps and glared at her, raising his meaty fists. Clover dropped the cloth, grabbed the little boy by the hand as he stumbled to his feet, and tugged him behind her. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Ballard move so that he stood next to Morrisey.
“Give me back that little half-breed, woman. This ain’t none of your concern.”
“I will not stand here and let you brutalize this child, Mr. Morrisey,” she said.
“He ain’t your brat; he be mine—bought and paid for.”
“Bought? Youboughtthis boy?”
“Cost me two silver dollars, he did. His ma was raped by some Shawnee buck and wanted to be rid of him. A man can’t be having too many strong backs to work his fields, and he came cheaper than those black ones.”
“This boy will never have a strong back if you beat him like that or starve him as you obviously have been.”
Morrisey stuck out one big, filthy hand. “That be my business. Now give him back.” When Clover did not move, he snapped, “You best do it, woman, or I’ll be setting the law on you.”
“Clover,” Ballard said, stepping over to her, “ye have to give the laddie back to him.”
“But, Ballard—”
“Ye have to, loving. ‘Tis the law. There isnae a cursed thing we can do about it.”
Before she could argue, the boy slipped away from her. To her astonishment, he flashed her a tiny smile,skipped around Morrisey, and headed for the door. As the child passed Mabel, she tossed him a chunk of bread. He was eating it even as he ran out the door.
“I am telling ye, Morrisey,” Ballard said, his words spat out from between clenched teeth, “folk are getting weary of ye and your brutish ways.”
“Well, you know how to stop it. The judge done told you last summer. Buy the boy.”
“No one here has sixty dollars, Morrisey, and weel ye ken it.”
“Ain’t that just too bad. Reckon I keep the breed then.”
“Get out,” said Jonathan. “Sam has taken care of your business. There’s no need for you to linger here.”
As soon as Morrisey and his sons left, Clover looked at Ballard, who had picked up the bolts of cloth she had dropped. “Is that the end of it? There really is nothing we can do?”
“I fear not, lass. We have tried everything. Me and Jon tried to beat some humanity into Morrisey last spring, but it only made it harder on the boy. We even got a circuit judge to listen to us, but it didnae make no difference. The boy is half Shawnee. His own ma doesnae want him and no one kens where his people are even if they would take him in. The judge said that the only thing we can do is buy the boy back, but Morrisey is demanding sixty dollars. Ye ken weel how little coin there is about, and he willnae take anything but silver.” He shrugged. “All we can do is slip the laddie some food now and then, and let Morrisey ken that if he hurts the boy too grievously, he will pay for it. I am sorry, Clover.”
“‘Tis not your fault.” No one said any more aboutthe boy, but Clover knew that she would not be able to shake him from her thoughts.
Ballard bought every piece of material she requested. He readily agreed that she needed sturdy everyday gowns. She and Molly were discussing what dresses she would make even as they left the store. The Clemmonses followed to say good-bye. It took a while for Ballard to get them all back into the wagons. As soon as they were seated he started them on their way.
As they traveled to Ballard’s home, Clover carefully studied the land through which they passed. She grew uneasy as she saw how empty of people the area was. She had spent her whole life in a town house, side by side with other families, in an increasingly busy river town. It did not look as if Ballard had many neighbors at all, and certainly none within calling distance.
“Ye will be seeing my place as soon as we round the next bend in the road,” Ballard said after almost an hour.
