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walk over toward the open door to hear Mr. Tempy whisper about a story I already know. Two brothers rob men, rip open their bellies, take out their entrails, then stuff the bodies with stones or sand to sink them in the rivers.

    "That'd be the Harpe brothers," I say, walking out onto the porch. I want them to get this right. "That all happened on the Natchez Trace way before the war and they're both long dead. I know some say the O'Donnells did that, but those were the Harpes, and they cut off Big Harpe's head and nailed it in the fork of a tree out near Robertson's Lick."
    Mr. Frank and Mr. Tempy stare at me. "It's true," I say. "Then some old woman went and took that old Harpe head years later because she needed to pulverize the bones of a human skull for some remedy."
    Mr. Tempy laughs.
    "It's not make-believe," I say. "It's all true, what they say. My pappy says those Harpe brothers were as mean as the stories say."
    Miss Irene skirts me away and says we got some cooking to do.
    "You think she knows whatever happened to that Little Harpe, Wiley?" Mr. Tempy asks Mr. Frank.
    I shout behind me, "He joined up with Mason's gang and got put on trial in New Orleans." Miss Irene slams the door shut, but I yell through it. "They cut off his little head too. Stuck it on a pole along the trace, north of Rodney." Then I open the door a crack and listen.

    "For Pete's sake, Tempy. Don't encourage her," I hear Mr. Frank say. "You think she knows as many good stories as she knows bad?"
    "Aw, come on now, Frank," Mr. Tempy says. "She's still got both ears, both eyes. She hasn't done anything wrong yet."
    "Yet," Mr. Frank says. "I can't get her to print her name properly, but she knows words like
entrails.
"
    "Yeah, well, at least she's heard about a court system. She might be the only O'Donnell who has. You
could
send her away. Heard tell about a nunnery in Baton Rouge," Mr. Tempy says, but I don't listen to the rest.
    I will run away before I ever get sent to a nunnery in Baton Rouge.
    Miss Irene and Zula are fixing up a supper. Zula is very quiet as she works. She doesn't say a word as she pulls apart a chicken so that Miss Irene can cook it.
    Miss Irene doesn't have me do all we did for Mr. Frank's ma and pa way back in May, but we do put out a fine spread of
food all the same. Zula doesn't eat with the men. Miss Irene tells me that it's her custom to eat separate, so she and I eat with Zula a ways away from Mr. Frank and Mr. Tempy. Zula is small but strong-looking with her dark hair, dark eyebrows, and wide nose. Her brown eyes are set apart and she looks smart to me. She and I sneak peeks at each other. She eats small bits at a time. I eat big chunks.

    Mr. Frank and Mr. Tempy eat every last crumb. After our meal, Miss Irene says she wants to make a custard for later on. She takes Zula with her to gather eggs from the hen house.
    "Howdy do, Shanks." I recognize the voice. Outside, Mr. Smith sets up high on his horse and doesn't come down. His redheaded boy, Rew, the boy I sit beside at school, sits on the horse behind his father. Mr. Smith only has the one leg. He lost the other at the Battle of Tupelo. His wife, Tid Smith, stands aside her husband's horse. She looks tired and worn out, but when she sees us on the porch, she eyes Mr. Tempy in the queerest way.
    Mr. Smith, he tips his hat and says, "Hey, Miss Addy." I say hey and look at Mr. Frank and Mr. Tempy, feeling good again about myself. Mr. Smith and my pappy fought together. Mr. Smith told me once that Pappy was a great soldier because he wouldn't submit to the rules in army life. He says Pappy was
brave on duty but sometimes left camp without permission, so he was called before a court-martial and sentenced to death. Pappy stood at his gravesite, awaiting the firing squad, when Mr. Smith says he interceded on his behalf and saved his life.

    I don't understand why his son, Rew, lies and says that his father says such terrible things about the O'Donnells.
    "I see you got