Spirit Ran Free
Chapter Three / Page Four

The women and ol' Jake were staring in stunned silence, as Mammy Louise, a big fine light-skinned matronly mammy with a splash of cute freckles in her face, stormed out on the veranda. "What y'all doing out here messing in these men folks business?" Mammy yelled at the younger ladies. "Y'all get on back in here."

While the pretty women reluctantly strutted back into the mansion, Master George looked straight at ol' Jake. "You are to see that this boy has a good bath and some food. Then, you're to have Annabelle get him fitted with some decent house clothes."

"Yes, sir, Master . . . yes, sir," ol' Jake nodded, gesturing a hand at Marcellus.

"Gentlemen," Marcellus nodded, as he followed ol' Jake.

"House clothes?" Phillip squinted. "Certainly, sir, you don't believe that ignorant nigger is fit for any house. This here Mr. Prince Marcellus boy first ought to be taught the decent manner in which he ought to address his master. I'd say the first thing that African nigger needs is a real good whipping."

"Of course, Son, you are surely well aware of how I despise that slanderous word, nigger. And this young man is far above being ignorant. This particular Negro slave could give you an education, which I'm sorry to say that you don't have. So I do believe he'll serve just fine as my personal valet."

"Did I hear you say he is going to serve as your personal valet? Well now . . . that is surely just fine with me . . . sir."

George stared at Phillip angrily before he turned away.

Phillip was clearly outraged but he calmly dropped his cigar on the sparkling porch and smashed it with his tall boot then shifted his eyes on Michael. "I suppose this was your damn smart idea to come here with this educated nigger?"

"I'm sure I heard my father asking you to kindly avoid using such an awful word. However, my dear brother, this new person is entirely father's own personal business."

Phillip squinted as if he hated Michael's guts. "Sir, after I bury your beloved father, I do intend to kick the hell out of you. And now, you can surely count on that, big brother."

Michael just looked at Phillip without another word.

Cont. / Page 5

the author


Forest Hairston