Only one arm, and still the man could choke him. Will saw stars. Though his hearing dimmed, Will heard Mama yelling and beating on Johnson’s back.

“Leave him alone—don’t hurt him,” Mama cried.

Will struggled. He had to protect Mama.

Maria screamed from the doorway.

“Don’t hurt him,” Mama shouted. “Don’t! He could be your son.”

Johnson’s grip slackened, and Will slumped to the floor.

“My son?” Johnson kicked Will. Will gasped for air through his bruised throat and stared at Johnson, who stared back.

Then Johnson chortled wickedly. “Or my brother?” He grabbed Mama’s chin and forced her face close to his. “Or your brother?” he said, grinning.

Will didn’t understand. His father? Or his brother? Or Mama’s brother? How could this man be any part of them?

“Yes,” Mama whispered. She seemed to shrink.

Johnson cackled uproariously. “You little bitch.” He pushed Mama, and she staggered. “You took my kin away with you.”

“He’s mine,” Mama said, regaining her feet and thrusting her chin forward. “Not yours. You can’t have him.”

Johnson snickered. “We’ll see about that.”

“You better leave, mister. Or I’ll shoot.” Maria’s voice dripped icy calm. From his position on the floor, Will saw she had Pa’s rifle trained on Johnson. Briefly, he wondered if it was even loaded. He’d never seen Maria shoot anything. Could she do it now? But watching her face, he thought she might.

Johnson raised his hands. “Well, now,” he said to Mama, “like mother, like daughter.” He sidled toward Maria, “Don’t worry, little miss,” he said, “I’m leavin’.”

Maria backed away from the door to let him pass, but didn’t lower the rifle. Johnson passed inches from the barrel, and Will feared Johnson would attack her. But Maria didn’t flinch.

“I’m leavin’,” Johnson repeated, and he slunk through the door. Maria slammed it behind him and turned the key.

With the terror over, Will blurted, “What did he mean, Mama?” He still couldn’t understand what Johnson had said. Then it dawned on him—Mama had had intimate relations with that man. And others. That’s the only way the man’s words made sense.

“Mama,” he said in horror, “were you a whore?”

From the hallway, Maria gasped.

Mama’s face paled as if he’d hit her. “Will, let me explain—”

But Will couldn’t take any more. He stood shakily, staggered past Maria, and raced out the back door. He halted in the yard and retched. After emptying his stomach, he ran to the carriage house.

When Will reached Shanty, he buried his face in the gelding’s mane and keened. All he could think of was escape. He saddled the horse and rode away blindly.

Chapter 13: Aftermath of Evil

Will urged Shanty into a canter. He didn’t know where he was headed, and he didn’t care. He only wanted to get away from the house. Away from Mama, from whatever sins she’d committed. Away from Maria, who’d witnessed Will’s annihilation.

That’s how he felt—annihilated, destroyed. He wasn’t who he thought he was. If he was Johnson’s son—or the son of some other man, then Pa wasn’t his father. He’d tried all his life to be like Pa, to make Pa proud of him. If Pa wasn’t his father, he didn’t know who he was.

Shanty took them on the road toward Jonah’s house. When Will realized where they were, he slowed Shanty to a walk. He couldn’t visit Jonah—he couldn’t face anybody, not even his best friend. He didn’t understand what Mama and Johnson had said. But he understood enough to realize it was a secret. A huge secret. A secret Mama never wanted him to find out.

As they approached the fork in the road leading to Pa’s claim—could Will even call him Pa anymore?—Will turned Shanty in that direction. That claim was the earliest home Will remembered, a snug little cabin where he and Mama lived while Pa—Mac?—was in California. Later, after Mac—Pa?—returned, they moved to town, to the big house where they now lived.

A tenant named Eben Coates lived in the cabin on the claim now—an old codger Mac hired to farm the land. Across the yard from the cabin stood the barn. Beside the barn was a disheveled shack, the shack the Tanner family lived in when they helped Mama. Some of Will’s earliest memories were of playing on the dirt floor of that shack with Otis Tanner, son of Clarence and Hattie Tanner. Hattie had smelled of molasses and cornbread, and Clarence of the smoke from his forge.

Will tied Shanty to a tree just off the road and crept toward the old Tanner shack. The door creaked open when he pushed on it. No one from the larger cabin came out to inspect, so Coates must be working the fields. Will peered inside. The shack was filthy, but large enough for him and Shanty to spend the night.

Will retrieved Shanty and led him toward the shack. The gelding balked when Will tried to pull him inside, but finally followed. Then Will went to the barn and took a bucket of oats back to the shack. Shanty at least would eat tonight. Will would go hungry unless he scrounged a few eggs in the henhouse. He foraged around until he had three eggs.

After eating the raw eggs, Will laid on a burlap bag in the shack and closed his eyes. He puzzled through what he’d heard again. According to Mama, he might be Johnson’s son. Then Johnson said Will might be Johnson’s brother, meaning he and Johnson might have the same father. Or Will might be Mama’s brother, which would mean her father—no! Will’s mind couldn’t accept that Mama had been intimate with her father. But that’s who she always said Will looked like.

His stomach rebelled. He rushed to the bushes behind the shack and vomited the eggs.

Jenny’s whole body shook as she left the parlor, this new assault resurrecting memories she thought she’d buried. Memories of terror. Now, she feared not only for herself, but for Will. Her worst fear for him had come to pass—he’d learned the truth. Or part of it.

But now she needed to calm Maria, who lay sobbing on the floor after bravely chasing off Jacob Johnson. “Maria,” she said gently, dropping to her knees beside the girl, though she still trembled from the shock of the encounter with Jacob. When Maria flung herself into Jenny’s arms, the two of them wept together.

“Who was that man?” Maria asked a bit later, wiping a hand across her eyes.

“Someone I knew long ago,” Jenny murmured. “He’s not important.” But he was, and she’d have to face the truth.

“You said he was Will’s father.” Maria’s stricken expression mirrored Jenny’s own anguish.

“He might be,” Jenny said. “But it doesn’t matter.” But it did. It mattered horribly.

“Is what Will said true?” Maria whispered. “Were you a whore?”

“No,” Jenny said, appalled at the girl’s conclusion. “Oh, no. Is that what you thought?”

“My mama was.”

“That’s different.” Jenny didn’t know how to respond without disparaging the woman who had borne Maria. “Mac rescued me.”

“Pa was my mama’s friend as well.”

Jenny settled herself beside Maria, both of them seated on the hall floor. She took a deep breath and braced herself for the truth. “I was raped,” she said bluntly. “When I was fourteen—your age. By three men. One of them was Jacob Johnson. That’s why he might be Will’s father.”

Maria’s face blanched. “Oh, Mama.” She threw her arms around Jenny. “Poor Mama.” She leaned back against the wall. “Poor Will.”

“Yes,” Jenny said. “I never wanted him—any of you children—to find out. You mustn’t say anything to anyone.”

Will spent the night shivering in the shack. Coates returned at dusk, and Will feared the tenant would hear Shanty’s soft snuffles, but apparently he only wanted to feed his mules and himself. Soon, Coates shut the door to the cabin, and Will neither heard nor saw anything further from him.