Monk worked quickly but quietly the next night. The pile of soft earth grew behind him as he dug deeper and deeper under the Tuckers' chiaaberry tree. Monk was digging for their money.

The Tuckers had left their shack early this morning. They had decided not to take their money with them when they went to look for a new place to live.

Monk had heard the Tuckers whispering into the late hours the night before. They were planning to drive in their wagon to a farmer called Jack Grouse. He had bought two slaves from Tucker twenty years ago. Grouse was a prosperous man now. He planted green cotton and owned nearly a hundred black people. Chad Tucker was hoping that he could get a job there.

Today had cooled Monk's mind. With the Tuckers away from the Star, Monk had been able to sit and carefully lay out his plans.

The white people in the big house were having their own problems, Monk knew. A doctor had arrived to see Mistress Melissa. Monk had heard in Niggertown that she was very sick.

Monk had spent most of today in Niggertown. He would go back there tonight after he had found the money and reburied it in bis own secret place.

The tip of Monk's shovel now struck a soft bulk in the earth. Dropping the shovel, Monk fell to his knees and clawed at the earth with his crooked ringers.

Uncovering a folded worsted quilt, Monk pulled it from the ground. He quickly opened the quilt and saw 259.

260.

the white flour sack. Untying the top of the sack, he looked to see that the money was still there, and then he laid the sack on the ground behind him.

Putting the quilt back into the hole, Monk reached behind him again for the large black book that he had found in the Tuckers' cabin. He had known for a long time what this book was. It was the slave ledger for the Star. Monk would bury this book in the hole where the money had been.

Quickly filling in the hole with dirt, Monk thought of what Chad and Claudia Tucker would say when they came back to the Star for their belongings and the money but found the slave ledger where the money had been hidden.

But Monk had no time now to gloat over his plan. He still had more trouble to do tonight. He had to go back to Niggertown now and start the big fire.

Storky was too nervous to sleep that night.

Samson had come from the blacksmith shop to visit Storky in the kitchen of the big house. But seeing that she was not feeling amorous, Samson sat by the kitchen worktable and talked to Storky.

Samson was telling Storky about Monk. He said, "That boy is running crazy, Miss Storky. Running crazy mad because Nero has been named overseer."

Storky never had much curiosity about Monk. She yawned now, and securing the knot on the white handkerchief tied around her head, she asked disinterestedly, "Monk thinks what?"

Samson repeated, "Monk thinks Master Peter should have named him overseer."

Storky snorted. "For what reason? That he learned overseeing from Tucker?"

"Yes, that's it, Miss Storky! That's what that Monk boy believes. And he's causing trouble on account of it."

"What kind of trouble?" Storky's face had hardened. She was listening now.

"Setting niggers against Master Peter and old Master Selby."

"Well, why didn't you thump that boy a good one and tell him to shut his big mouth! You're big enough, 261.

ain't you, you big ox?" Storky glared at the candle flickering in front of her on the table, grumbling. "Monk. Don't know why we still calls him 'boy.' He's old enough now to know better. You should've landed him a good one right on his head. 'Shamed of you, Samson. 'Shamed of you for not thumping him."

Samson leaned eagerly toward Storky, explaining, "But I don't hears this myself. I hears abouts it!"

Storky sat upright in her chair. "Then, first thing tomorrow morning, I plans to go out and thumps him myself. Where exactly that no-good nigger trash hanging out these days?"

"Niggertown."

Thinking of Niggertown, and all the changes that Peter was planning for down there, Storky said, "I'll go ask Posy tomorrow morning, that's what I'll do. I'll ask **>*, :y where Monk is. That sissy nigger boy knows more jievs about Niggertown than even I do. Hmtnph. Never thought I'd see the day when I'd have to go looking for no sissy boys just so I'd hear what's happening around this place!" She shook her head, bewildered by the changes of customs and rank on the Star. Then, concentrating on the more serious aspect of Samson's story, Storky turned to him and said, "That's all poor Master Peter needs now, trouble from some trash niggers. The plain truth of the matter is that some niggers will not listen to sense. As much as you do for some niggers, they always want more."

Samson asked, "Ain't some white people same way, Miss Storky?"

She scoffed. "Sure! The trashy ones. Niggers and white folks can be trashy alike. Whites can be worse, because they has the chances."

Then, stopping, thinking that she heard a commotion overhead, Storky bent her head and listened more closely. She whispered to Samson, "You hears something, honey?"

He listened, too, saying, "Sounds like lots of feet running around upstairs to me."

Storky's hand flew to the white handkerchief tied around her head and cried, "I knows it! I knows it!"

"What do you knows, Miss Storky?" Samson asked.

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But before she could answer, they both heard feet running down the stairs, and soon the door to the kitchen flew open.

Peter stood in the doorway. He was dressed in only his shirt and underwear. His hair was tousled. He was too alarmed with his news to say anything about seeing Samson in the kitchen. Breathlessly, Peter told Storky, "Doc Riesen wants hot water. More quilts. Make that lots of boiling-hot water. It's happening, Storky. But it's happening too quick. It's happening too fast." He turned and ran from the kitchen, his footsteps racing upstairs.

Without a question, Storky had sprung from her chair. She pulled open the fire door on the cookstove with one hand and grabbed toward the kindling box with the other. She wanted to catch the embers before they went down for the night.

Soon, three separate kettles were singing on the stove, and the kitchen worktable was a mountain of linens and quilts for the doctor.

When Storky now propped open the kitchen door with the long gun always kept next to it, preparing a free exit for herself to move upstairs with the boiling-hot kettles, there was a loud pounding on the door behind her. Spinning around, she called to Samson, "Open that door and tell whoever it is to stay out of my way."

Samson obeyed Storky, opening the door, but before he could warn the late caller, Nero burst into the kitchen.

"Samson. Storky. One of you must get Master Peter. A fire's broke out in Niggertown."

"A fire?" Storky stood dumbstruck.

Nero nodded. "I know Monk's behind this, but Master Peter must get down to Niggertown right now."

Samson said, "That fire is just going to have to burn! There's a baby's being birthed upstairs."

Seeing the stoveful of boiling kettles and the table of linen, Nero cried, "Oh, God! God!"

Storky's mind was working fast again. She turned away from the door and said, "Well, it ain't Master Peter who's birthing that baby upstairs. And if what I fear is happening up there, it's best to get Master Peter 263.

out of the way. Samson, you stay here with Nero. I'll be right back."

Storky disappeared from the kitchen.

A few minutes later, Storky returned to the kitchen with Peter. He was fully dressed, but his face looked worried. He spoke soberly to Nero, "Storky here said there was trouble and I should come quick. What is it?"

Nero excitedly began, "It's Niggertown. That damned Monk got some niggers to set fire to their cabins."

"Monk?" Peter asked. "Fire?"

Nero nodded. "He's stilt down in Niggertown shouting bad things about you."

"Me?"

"He's gone plumb crazy, Master Peter," Nero said. "Plumb crazy that you gives me the job of being overseer."

Peter looked from Nero to Samson, and finally to Storky.

Storky shook her head and said, "Nothing you can do here for Miss Melly, Master Peter. The doc's doing all be can."

Looking back to Nero, Peter ordered, "Nero, take Samson here with you. Load shovels and axes hi the wagon. I'll ride ahead."

Then, looking fleetingly at Storky, Peter moved quickly toward the back door.

"Ride the gelding," Nero shouted as Peter rushed down the back steps. "The gelding's already saddled."

Pausing at the foot of the steps, Peter looked in the direction of Niggertown and saw that the dark sky was colored red and yellow. The arc of fire painted the night like a smudged rainbow.

Peter could hear the wild shouting of voices, and smelled the smoke, before he galloped around the last bund of trees. Then, coming within sight of Niggertown, he saw the licking flames.

He felt a small sense of relief when he saw that it was only the first cabin of one row that was burning. But realizing that the surrounding houses were made of old lumber-one spark could set the dry timber ablaze-he 264.

galloped directly toward the crowd of black people surrounding the fire.

Peter then heard a voice call to him.

The voice shouted, "Go back to your big house, white man."

Peter could not see which of the black faces had shouted to him, but he suspected that it was Monk. Sitting on his horse, Peter faced the crowd and looked for faces that he recognized.

The man's voice called again, "We're all nigger overseers here now."

Peter ignored the jibe. He knew now for certain that it was Monk. He shouted to the black people he instantly recognized, "Bluebody. Felix. Zeb. Get these people back from the fire. Crow. Zeke. And you, there, Bramble. Divide the men into groups."

"It's no good trying to get us to help you no more," Monk called at Peter.

Standing in his stirrups, Peter called to the people, "I've got shovels coming to dig with. We need dirt to put out the fire. Lots of dirt, and lots of men to throw it."

Monk emerged from the shadows of the blaze. He was shirtless, wearing only his baggy white pants. He held a pine-knot torch in one hand.

Sidling his horse toward Monk, Peter shouted, "Monk, you've already made enough trouble. Go back to the Tuckers' shack."

"The Tuckers!" Monk laughed at Peter. "The Tuckers have been stealing slaves from the Star for years. And none of you white men ever guessed it. That's how dumb you white people are."

Peter did not know what Monk was talking about; he only wanted to clear away this crowd and get the men working.

Monk stood in front of Peter. He held the torch high above his bare shoulder, and the light from the fire made his brown skin shine as if it were polished. His muscles were hard and tight.

Peter's horse shied at the fire. But steadying it-and ignoring Monk-Peter called to the people, "All you.

265.

All you who want to sleep outside in the cold, step back. You listen to Monk. But those who want to save your houses, you work with me."

There was a rumble of voices from the crowd. The men and women of Niggertown milled together, their half-naked bodies streaming with perspiration.

Still struggling to control his horse, Peter called again to the black people, "Those who don't want to help, get out of the way. Let the rest of us work."

At that moment, behind Peter there was a clatter on the hill.

Turning on his saddle, Peter saw Nero and Samson rushing down the slope in the wagon. They were bringing shovels and axes.

Peter turned back to the crowd and called, "Come on. Let's get to work."

"Don't listen to that white man," Monk shouted. "His nigger there in the wagon is Nero. He's the nigger who's going to be your new overseer."

Peter took up the jibe. "Yeah. That's Nero. He's coming here to help you. He wants to save your homes."

There was a pause suddenly in the crowd.

Waiting, Peter looked anxiously to see which side they were going to take.

Then, like a bursting dam, the black people of Nigger-town rushed for the wagon. They collected axes and shovels, while others turned to run to their houses to grab quilts and rugs to beat out the fire.

Peter did not remember how long he had stayed with his people that night. But the fire had been stopped before it had been able to spread far.

That night-very early in the morning hours, after the fire was under control-Peter made a promise to the black men and women. He promised that they would all work together. Peter promised that he and Nero and all the black people would work side-by-side to rebuild the cabins. They would start the next day, as soon as daylight broke. And he also promised that there would be no other work to do on the Star until the houses were restored, plus repairs done on the others.

266.

A cheer welcomed Peter's tired speech.

But the black people's gratefulness fell on deaf ears, because Peter turned and saw his father-in-law.

Albert Selby was sitting on his horse at the top of the slope.

The fire had left Peter exhausted and coated with soot. But he ran all the way up the slope to Selby and shouted, "Melly? How's Melly doing?"

Albert Selby sat on his horse and stared blankly at the gray smoke rising from the charred cabins below him.

Tugging at Selby's leg, Peter cried, "Goddamnit. How's Melly?"

Without looking down at Peter, Selby smiled and said, "Twins. Melly had twins. Two little girls. The sweetest little pair of sisters you ever did see."

"But Melly?" Peter insisted. "How's Melly?"