The crack in Aggie’s ice began one evening, during the time of cotton chopping. She was sitting in the yard, while Pop George told stories to the very young children. Tess was asleep and tied with a cloth to Aggie’s back, but her other child had been patient for too long. She hadn’t played with Nick for many months, since before the new baby was born. He spotted Aggie and began their old game, “See and catch me.” Nick ran very fast, and, sighing, Aggie rose and called after her son, she was gone get him. She laughed to herself: she hoped this activity would tire him out, as much as she was tired. It was more than a notion to care for a little boy and an infant, as well as the Quarters-children besides. She began to walk, but Aggie came upon Nick sitting in a red dirt puddle. His child’s linen shift and face were wet with mud and he was shrieking.
Aggie saw that they were nearly upon the left cabin, and she hissed at her son, quick, give her his hand. Yet Nick sat in the puddle and refused to rise. Suddenly, Samuel appeared. He’d watched his child from afar, but because Nick was in Aggie’s care, Samuel kept his distance. He didn’t want to get within even a few feet of that woman, but he knew to harm her would be to hinder the life of his child.
Yet that day, Samuel’s love overcame him: Nick was his only seed, he told himself. And Samuel was not a young man anymore. He was near forty years old, though there was not one line on his face. His blond hair wasn’t even silver at his temples; he seemed to be both a young and never-aging man.
Samuel pulled the child into his arms, unconcerned that the mud on Nick would ruin his clothes.
The mother snatched her son away.
“Don’t you be touching him,” Aggie said. “Don’t you never put your hands on this chile again.”
At her words, fear seized Samuel: he quaked throughout his entire body. He turned on his heel, opened the leaf-and flower-covered iron gate of the left cabin’s fence, and walked inside. In moments, there was the high-pitched sound of a child screaming.
The Day of the Selling
After the scene at the left cabin, Samuel decided he’d had enough. He was tired of deferring to Aggie, who was nothing but a nigger and a woman. Until he’d encountered her, he’d only felt shame over his long-dead father’s assaults. Not when he read his Bible, for Samuel only pulled out those scriptural pieces that assured him, as a white man, he was next to God. Not when he heard the screaming of his Young Friend, for the more he hurt her, the more powerful he felt. Yet the sense of power he had felt that evening in anticipation of hurting his Young Friend had leaked out of him when Aggie had snatched Nick from his arms. He’d wanted to punch her, but the strength had left his bones when he’d tried to raise his arm.
His night with the Young Friend had ended too quickly, and when he returned to his own bedroom in the house, Samuel decided he would have to sell Aggie. He could tolerate her no longer, and once Aggie was gone, all would be well, no matter the potential demonstrations among the Quarters-folks. If they wanted to slow down their work, he would allow Carson to use his whip. No one would stand in the way of Samuel and his son. He sat down at the desk in his parlor and wrote two short documents: a letter to Lancaster Polcott and a pass for Claudius.
Samuel expected to sleep well that night, but he had nightmares of someone’s lips touching his ear, whispering, giving him instructions, though he couldn’t remember what they were when he awoke in the dark, sweating. He heard footsteps over his shiny pine floor and saw the outline of a small figure, though he couldn’t see the face. And when Samuel lit his lantern, there was no one in his room. The door was tightly closed as before. In the morning, Samuel was uneasy, as he walked to the kitchen house, and had Tut send for Claudius. The master gave him the two notes, and told him, make haste. He held out the pass, explaining what it was—as if Claudius couldn’t read—and said, if he encountered white men on the road, to give them this paper. Not the other. And don’t lose his pass, because a nigger on a horse was bound to be challenged. It was twenty-five miles to where the trader lived—too far to travel quickly on foot.
Lancaster arrived four days later, with his Negro helper. Beside the wagon, Claudius rode the horse. The trader got down to business quickly, saying he might be able to get a prime price for Aggie, since Samuel had figured her as in her early twenties, but with the bad birthmark that Samuel had described on Aggie’s baby, that would surely diminish the baby’s price. He and Samuel stood in the yard. Though the sun was high, and Samuel had drunk three cups of black coffee, he was groggy and rubbed his eyes.