quickly enough. Most of the children didn't even have Bibles of their own, let alone carry them to church every Sunday.
That night, when Beth was bathing him and Gabriel, she found the bruises on his shoulders. When she mentioned it to Mrs. Worthington, Mr. Worthington over heard. Derek remembered sitting in the bathtub, wondering why Beth seemed so alarmed. When she returned with Mr. Worthington close behind her, he couldn't imagine what could be wrong.
"What happened in class today, Derek?" he'd asked in a kind, deep voice.
Figuring he was going to get in trouble again, he'd remained silent, staring down at his hands. It was Gabriel who spoke up and repeated the nasty comments Mr. Millstone had made to him.
Mr. Worthington, Derek would find, was a man who believed in firm discipline, but not without cause. Physical reprimand from him only came after a stern warning and a second chance.
Far from punishing Derek, he had Beth put him to bed with a soft, clean pillow and a cool, damp cloth across his shoulders. The next weekend Mr. Millstone hadn't bothered him at all. In fact, he'd put Derek in a seat at the back corner of the room and didn't look at him once through the entire class.
Whatever Mr. Worthington had said to him seemed to do the trick for a while. Sundays were much more bearable until his death.
Shortly after the funeral Mrs. Worthington had gone to Mr. Millstone with expressions of sympathy for his plight of teaching "the boy." When she expressed her approval of the use of any necessary means to "bring him to the fold of God," Mr. Millstone had readily assured her that Derek's soul was safe in his hands. The next few years felt very, very long.
Thinking back on Mr. Worthington, Derek remembered always feeling the man was on the verge of saying something, but he just couldn't bring himself to it. It was this quality that made Derek think if Mr. Worthington was alive maybe he would know more about his parents. Their names, at the very least.
I bet he would have let me go to school, too, Derek thought, still watching Devon. "Was it hard to learn?"
"Not really, but it's hard to do with someone jabberin' in your ear."
He started to apologize, but stopped himself.
When he finished his cakes, Derek got out the brush and went to Blueberry's stall. "Hi there, Blue. Ready to go to town?" Leaning over the divider, he hooked the lead to Blueberry's bridle then opened the gate and led him out. He tied him to the post by the empty stalls and started brushing him.
"I'm gon' git us some lunch, then I'll be back."
"All right."
Devon walked out of the stables, shuffling along briskly. He had the rushed, jerky movements of someone who couldn't move fast, but who tried to very hard.
"It must be hard, doing work like this your whole life," Derek said, brushing down the horse's neck. "I wonder how old he is. A lot older than me, that's for sure."
"Derek?"
Looking up sharply, he turned an instinctive glare at Gabriel's voice. "What?"
Walking a few steps into the shade, Gabriel had a concerned look in his eyes. "Catherine asked me to come down and see if you were all right. She gave Jonathan a right talking to when he got back up to the house."
"What, did everyone know I was in trouble?" he snapped.
"Mother was sort of loud when she yelled at you yesterday. We all just figured. Then Jonathan disappeared down here with the whip this morning." His voice trailed off. "Catherine was really mad," he repeated.
A little surprised at the concern, Derek felt his anger ebb. As much as he liked the thought that Catherine was angry with Jonathan, he couldn't help thinking that it was unfair to worry her. But if Mrs. Worthington ever found out he didn't really get punished, she'd be livid.
"I'm fine," was all he said.
Gabriel nodded.
A heavy silence fell between them.
It was Gabriel who broke it. Smiling at the horse, he stepped forward to pet him. "Hi, Blueberry. It's been a little while since I've seen you."
Blueberry