Virginia Hamilton Read Free

that grin off—I say wipe it. And bow you head the wayyou s’pose to,” he told Anthony. Then Walker turned back around toward he Mars.
    â€œYou got too much spirit, I believe, boy,” he Mars Suttle told Anthony. “You see me a-comin’, you bow you down like Janety there. Now bow down!”
    Holding Anthony between his hands, Big Walker bowed himself and Anthony, too, from the waist. Anthony’s feet were up off the ground, but still he bowed. He stayed bowed until Big Walker unbowed him. Until he Mars said it was all right for Big Walker to stand up and lift Anthony to the pony’s neck.
    That was where Anthony wanted to go. He would’ve gone, too, right away if only he hadn’t forgot the rule and been slapped for it by the driver.
    He Mars took Anthony out of Walker’s arms and placed him comfortably on the front of the saddle.
    As he was lifted, Anthony remembered not to look directly into he Mars John Suttle’s face. For he Mars considered that worse than forgetting to bow. Anthony knew what he Mars looked like, anyhow. An elder man, so Mamaw said. He Mars’s hair was almost gone from his head. And what was there was all white. The hair above his lip was white, too, and yellowish, and usually full of shortnin’ johnnycake crumbs. Anthony knew what the crumbs were because Mamaw labored in the Suttle kitchen. She always put her shortnin’ johnny to rise on a long board leaned by the fire hearth. She made the johnnycakes. Anytime Anthony wanted a piece, he ran up there and got it.
    Everybody said Anthony was “spoilt.” Even Missy Suttle said so, crossly. He guessed “spoilt” was good, for everybody smiled when they saidthat he was, except for Missy. Sometimes, in a secret between him and Mamaw, he took a whole cake back to the cabin and the children. They weren’t so jealous then that he was spoilt. They patiently waited for him to scoop up a handful for each of them.
    He Mars slapped him lightly on his bare knees below the simple cotton sacking he wore. It was not lost on Anthony which one treated him more harshly—Big Walker or he Mars. And to himself he thanked he Mars for being there, else Big Walker might’ve hurt him more.
    â€œThere, you see?” Mars Suttle said to Walker. “The best management of my property is the keepin’ of good discipline.”
    â€œYay suh,” Big Walker murmured.
    â€œI say what?” he Mars asked.
    â€œGood man’gement, good dis’pline,” Big Walker said.
    â€œThere you have it,” he Mars said. “You hear that, boy?” he said to Anthony.
    Anthony nodded. Swiftly, Big Walker reached up and slapped him a stinging blow. It brought tears to his eyes, and a burning hatred for the big black man. Anthony whimpered once, but that was all. He wouldn’t cry out.
    â€œNow, now, Anthony,” he Mars soothed him. “Walker didn’t mean nothin’. But he hates to have anyone, even a favorite chile like you, forget his proper respect. Say what you have been taught to say when I speak to you.”
    â€œYay suh, no suh,” Anthony managed in a tiny voice, gulping tears.
    â€œUh-uh, now I told you that ‘yay’ and ‘suh’ nonsense is fo’ my field property. My house property says likethis: ‘Yay-es sur .’ You see, the field cain’t do it. Big Walker cain’t. But you can, Anthony. Say it now, properly: ‘Yay-es sur.’ ”
    â€œYays-surah,” Anthony said, the best an almost-six-year-old piece of property could do.
    The man sighed. “That will do fine. Just remember, boy, that under Gawd I am your lawgiver and your judge.”
    â€œYays-surah!”
    Then, coolly, he Mars studied Big Walker. “Love and fear,” he murmured. “Reason, gratitude, obedience, shame.” He grinned at Big Walker. “Now ain’t you ashamed to be hittin’ a po’ little one like-a