Read Online Prentice Alvin: The Tales of Alvin Maker, Volume III by Orson Scott Card - Free Book Online Page A

she married, and a man had no name till he killed him his first animal.”
    “That’s just awful,” said Mama. “That ain’t even Christian. Why, she died unbaptized.”
    “No,” said Peggy. “She was baptized right enough. Her owner’s wife saw to that—all the Blacks on their plantation were baptized.”
    Mama’s face went sour. “I reckon she thought that made her a Christian. Well, I’ll have a name for you, little boy.” She grinned wickedly. “What do you think your papa would do if I named this baby Horace Guester Junior?”
    “Die,” said Peggy.
    “I reckon so,” said Mama. “I ain’t ready to be a widow yet. So for now we’ll name him—oh, I can’t think, Peggy. What’s a Black man’s name? Or should I just name him like any White child?”
    “Only Black man’s name I know is Othello,” said Peggy.
    “That’s a queer name if I ever heard one.” said Mama. “You must’ve got that out of one of Whitley Physicker’s books.”
    Peggy said nothing.
    “I know,” said Mama. “I know his name. Cromwell. The Lord Protector’s name.”
    “You might better name him Arthur, after the King,” said Peggy.
    Mama just cackled and laughed at that. “That’s your name, little boy. Arthur Stuart! And if the King don’t like such a namesake, let him send an army and I still won’t change it. His Majesty will have to change his own name first.”
     
    Even though she got to bed so late, Peggy woke early next morning. It was hoofbeats woke her—she didn’t have to go to the window to recognize his heartfire as the minister rode away. Ride on, Thrower, she said silently. You won’t be the last to run away this morning, fleeing from that eleven-year-old boy.
    It was the north-facing window she looked out of. She could see between the trees to the graveyard up the hill. She tried to see where the grave was dug last night, but there wasn’t no sign her natural eyes could see, and in a graveyard there wasn’t no heartfires neither, nothing to help her. Alvin will see it though, she knew that sure.
He’d head for that graveyard first thing he did, cause his oldest brother’s body lay there, the boy Vigor, who got swept away in the Hatrack River saving Alvin’s mother’s life in the last hour before she gave birth to her seventh son. But Vigor hung on to life just long enough, in spite of the river’s strongest pulling at him, hung on just long enough that when Alvin was born he was the seventh of seven living sons. Peggy herself had watched his heartfire flicker and die right after the babe was born. He would’ve heard that story a thousand times. So he’d come to that graveyard, and he could feel his way through the earth and find what lay hidden there. He’d find that unmarked grave, that wasted body so fresh buried there.
    Peggy took the box with the caul in it, put it deep in a cloth bag along with her second dress, a petticoat, and the most recent books Whitley Physicker had brought. Just because she didn’t want to meet him face to face didn’t mean she could forget that boy. She’d touch the caul again tonight, or maybe not till morning, and then she’d stand with him in memory and use his senses to find that nameless Black girl’s grave.
    Her bag packed, she went downstairs.
    Mama had drug the cradle into the kitchen and she was singing to the baby while she kneaded bread, rocking the cradle with one foot, even though Arthur Stuart was fast asleep. Peggy set her bag outside the kitchen door, walked in and touched her Mama’s shoulder. She hoped a little that she’d see her Mama grieving something awful when she found out Peggy’d gone off. But it wasn’t so. Oh, she’d carry on and rage at first, but in the times to come she’d miss Peggy less than she might’ve guessed. It was the baby’d take her mind off worrying about her daughter. Besides, Mama knew Peggy could take care of herself. Mama knew Peggy wasn’t a one to need to hold a body’s hand. While Arthur