Joseph crouched over an old, fallen trunk that the weather had mostly split for him. He decided he’d still need a tool and began to pick his way back to Papa’s satchel.
“My sister, she stuffs the bells at night to keep ’em quiet.” With a grimace, the negro watched Papa pushing a needle through his skin. “She stuffed ’em ’fore I left, but it’s worked out-a that right one.”
Joseph paused to gape at the boldness of his disobedience.
The negro glanced at him; he must have sensed Joseph’s reproof. “I’m not running away, not permanent. I’m going to see my wife, is all.”
Joseph dug in the medical satchel. “Can’t you do that on Sundays?” He hadn’t meant to say the words aloud, but he wasn’t sorry. No master made his slaves work on Sundays.
“Not anymore. My wife, she near Orangeburg now. Last time, took me two days just to get to her.”
Then he should ask for a pass. If he couldn’t get one as often as he liked—well, he must learn to be content. Suffering was part of God’s plan. It taught you virtues like humility and patience. Joseph selected the largest amputation knife and returned to the promising trunk. “Servants, obey in all things your masters,” he murmured, remembering the verse he’d heard many times.
“As you would that men should do to you, do you also to them,” Papa called loud enough that Joseph could hear him over the wood splitting. “You’re quoting Saint Paul. I’m quoting God.”
The negro chuckled, which made his bells wobble.
Joseph returned with the splint and handed it to Papa without meeting his eyes.
“Perfect! Thank you, son.”
Joseph turned his back while Papa set the negro’s arm. He was nearly through wrapping the splint when a new voice shouted from the direction of the road. “Halloo!”
Joseph heard the negro suck in a breath and hold it, which of course the bell marked.
Someone must have come upon their chaise and horse. “Are you in any trouble there?” the man inquired. Was it a slave patrol? Papa might be imprisoned for helping a runaway!
“No trouble!” Papa called back. “My son’s dog took off after a rabbit, is all.” It was appalling how easily he broke the Eighth Commandment. Perhaps Papa thought the bell would be more difficult to lie away; he caught it with one hand to keep it silent.
“Do you need help with your search?”
“No, thank you. We’ve got her in hand now.”
There was a moment’s pause. At last, the man answered: “All right, then—good day to you!”
“Good day!”
Joseph thought he heard hoof beats on the road. The negro released his breath, and slowly Papa let go of the bell, which rattled in protest.
“I can’t reach ’em up there myself.” The negro glanced at the bell, then down to the bloody cotton Papa had discarded. “D’you think—you could take some of that and…”
“I have a better idea.” Papa finished the splint and turned to his surgery set. He extracted the bone saw. “Do you trust me?”
“You just proved I could.” Still the negro looked dubious.
Papa took back the leather strap and walked around behind his patient. He fed the strap between the negro’s neck and his collar, where one of the rivets held it closed. Then Papa sawed carefully till iron shavings began falling.
For a while, Joseph watched, frowning. Papa spoke to the negro about how his arm would heal, not about the crime he was committing. He kept sawing for what seemed like ages. Joseph poked an anthill with a long stick, and the tiny creatures swarmed around the disturbance. He retreated a safe distance and sat down to wait.
At last Papa broke through. He folded open the two halves with their horns. The negro helped him, and together they dumped the broken collar on the forest floor. The right bell clanged its warning a few moments more.
The negro stared down at the collar as if he didn’t believe it was gone, though it had left behind raw marks all around his neck and shoulders. He looked up at Papa with the same kind of disbelief, as if he were seeing him for the first time. “You some kind of foreigner?”
Papa cased his bone saw and smiled. “Just a doctor.”
“Well, I’m much obliged to you, Doctor.” The negro stood up from the dead tree, holding his splinted arm against his chest. “You a good and decent man. I hope your son there takes after you inside as well as out.”
Joseph watched the dark form disappear into the trees, whilePapa snapped shut his satchel. Joseph knew what he was feeling was another sin, that if he spoke up, he would be breaking the Fourth Commandment. But if your father criticized the Church, couldn’t you criticize him? “You had no right to do that.”
