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he cut the space between them with ferocity, she’d broken that rule and was in trouble.
    Eli stepped outside just as her father reached her. “Is that my damn towel covered in this animal’s blood? You got his filthy blood everywhere,” Eli raged.
    Her father grabbed her neck and yanked her away from the injured man. “You fool,” he fumed. “You don’t touch him. You don’t help him. He is an animal. A criminal. That’s why we beat him. He’s like a dog that bit someone.”
    “He bit someone?” Beatrice asked, looking the man over as her father dragged her farther and farther away.
    “No, dummy,” her father hissed. “He drank out of the whites only fountain as if he’s the same as us. He knew better. It’s bad enough we have to let them walk down Main Street and breathe the same air as us. I’ll be damned if they’re going to dirty up our things.”
    “You beat him for getting a drink?” Beatrice cried, hunching under the pain of her father’s tight grip on her neck.
    “You’re not a baby anymore, girl. Your mama can say all she wants that you’re too slow in the head to be told about the world, but obviously if I don’t you’ll run our family’s name through the mud. I don’t ever want to see you helping, talking to, or being anywhere near one of them ever again. I have worked my whole damn life to keep them in their place so the world can be worth living in for you. Don’t go undermining all my work and the work of the Klan by treating them like people.”
    “Aren’t they people?” Beatrice asked as they made their way past the fence at the Miller’s farm. She wanted to see if the horses were still standing by the fence for a pat on the nose again. Before she could be grateful for the release of her neck, she was whacked hard across the face by her father’s hand.
    “How can you be this old and not know this? They ain’t people. If I ever hear you talking like this again, you’ll get the beating of your life,” he snarled. The anger raging in his grey-blue eyes was unnerving.
    Nothing about this afternoon made sense to Beatrice. All she knew was she didn’t want to be beaten, but something was about to make that inevitable. “I forgot Mama’s eggs,” she cried in a sudden panic.
    “Then you better go out to the field and bring in a switch. When she hears what you did, and you come back empty-handed, you’ll be in for it,” her father grumbled.
    “But I was trying to be like the Good Samaritan. I don’t understand.” The fear of the inevitable whooping filled Beatrice’s eyes with tears.
    “You better start understanding right quick. If they know their place and follow the rules, we put up with them. But one toe out of line and we give them what they deserve. And nowadays it’s not just about them but anyone who tries to help them, too, the way you just did. Like a fool. That’s what this is all about,” he said, gesturing to his white robe. “I do this for you.”
    For the rest of the walk home they were both silent. Beatrice hung her head and cried, knowing she was about to face the wrath of her mother when all she’d wanted to do was show her how she could walk with God. Being eleven was proving impossible. Nothing made sense anymore, and all she ever got lately was a good walloping.
    “I’m sorry, Daddy, I didn’t know,” she apologized, feeling like she must be the stupidest child in the world.
    “You got his blood on your clothes. We’ll have to burn them tonight,” he retorted coldly.
    “Yes, Daddy,” she agreed as she looked down at the bright red blood that rimmed the edge of her jumper. She didn’t understand any of this, but she could tell she better figure it out soon.

Chapter Four
     
    Beatrice had thought there would be nothing worse than the whooping she received that night, but she was wrong. The way she was treated at school the weeks after was far harder to deal with then the wallops on her rear end from her mother. After word of what