The loud crack of Gran’mere Chevalier’s cane on the floor brought her to a skidding halt.  Claire looked back over her shoulder, the laugh frozen on her oh-so-light skinned face, and tiptoed into the upstairs hallway, knowing what was to come and knowing she could do nothing to stop it.

“How DARE you…<the cane rapped again>…bring that FILFTH…<again, only louder> into MY house,” the old matriarch punctuated every phrase with the gold tip of her ebony cane.

Cinnamon dropped her eyes and awaited the old woman’s tirade.  She was only getting warmed up.  “Sorry ma’am,” she mumbled in a soft breathy voice.

“SORRY?  SORRY?  Do you think ‘sorry’ is going to clean my rug?  Do you think it’s going to make all that dirt you tracked in just…go away…<she brandished her cane>?”

“No ma’am.”

“That’s right!  No, it won’t!  Girl, I got half a mind to send you to the canefield, learn you a lesson ‘bout respect.”

Cinnamon’s face flushed but the feeling rising from her belly was purely cold as death.  The Chevaliers didn’t own slaves, not even back before The War; they were Creole, free people of color, and they hired their own.  But they also hired harsh overseers to get the most out of their laborers.  And Sil Jardine was as harsh as they come, from what she’d heard.   She swallowed hard at the thought of working in the canefields, sunup to sundown, in the heat, in the air so thick with moisture, you couldn’t even work up a sweat.

 “Please, ma’am, I’ll clean it.  I swear I will.”

“Damned right you will!” Gran’mere glared at her.  “You git yerself out to the pump and you clean up proper…not a speck o’dirt on ye!  Then you git right back here and you scrub that rug clean, you hear me?  I don’ care if it take till next Sunday, you ain’t leavin’ until it’s clean.  You understand me, girl?”

“Yes’m,” Cinnamon nodded vigorously and began backing out the door.

“Claire!” Gran’mere bellowed.  “You git yerself down here to the parlor.  We got some talkin’ to do!”

Once outside, Cinnamon turned and ran for the pump and scrubbed her hands, legs and feet till they were raw.  She hoisted herself up on the well cover and waited for them to dry.  Weren’t no use cleanin’ up if she was just gonna ‘tract more dirt and mud on her way back to the house.  And she hoped…hoped for….