The Land by Mildred D. Taylor Page B

grabbed them, then, talking softly to the animal, I tried to calm him down. “It’s me, Appaloosa. It’s me, Paul,” I said. I didn’t have any apple wedges in my pocket, so I just backed him away from the others, talked gently to him, stroked him, then took the chance of laying my head and my chest against him so he could feel me breathing as he breathed.
    Christian and Percy laughed. “What the hell are you doing?” Christian asked.
    I ignored them. I closed my eyes, holding the horse’s head against mine. Appaloosa’s breathing was short and hurried at first, but finally it steadied and calmed.
    The Waverlys were still laughing when I opened my eyes and asked again what happened. When Robert didn’t say anything, Christian spoke up in his stead. “So, Robert, this is the way y’all teach your niggers to greet folks?”
    â€œI . . . I told you,” said Robert to Christian, “we don’t use that word.”
    â€œWhy not? A nigger by any other name . . . but what the hell! We’re guests here and we’ll try to respect that, won’t we, Percy?”
    â€œMost certainly,” agreed his brother.
    â€œRobert,” I said, ignoring the Waverlys, “what’s happened to Appaloosa here?” Now, Robert and I over the years had discussed giving our horse a name, but I loved the sound of the word “Appaloosa” and how it rolled off the lips. I also loved the image of the West and the Appaloosas, and their name had come out of the West. Since the horse was more mine than Robert’s—for Robert had never once mounted the Appaloosa since the day we’d won him on the bet—he had gone along with calling him whatever I chose. So we simply called him Appaloosa. “Robert?” I said, when he said nothing, but then Appaloosa neighed as if to answer my question himself. I turned back to him, patted his sweaty coat, and for the first time saw the blood. I looked again at Robert and the Waverlys. “What’s this?”
    â€œWhat you think?” said Percy.
    I bit hard on my lower lip, trying to control my anger. “Looks like he’s been whipped.”
    Percy sneered. “Yeah, what of it?”
    I turned to Robert. “You tell me what happened!”
    â€œWell . . . nothing, Paul . . . nothing much really,” Robert managed, acting himself a bit skittish.
    â€œWhat do you mean, nothing? Who’s been riding him?”
    â€œI rode him,” answered Christian boastfully. “So did Percy. First time he’s been ridden in a spell by someone knows how.”
    I glared at Christian, then back at Robert with disbelief. “You let them ride Appaloosa?”
    â€œWell . . . yeah . . . why not? He was theirs once, you know.”
    â€œYeah, once! They didn’t know how to ride him then, and they don’t know how to ride him now! Just look at Appaloosa!”
    â€œHey!” cried Percy to Robert. “You just going to let him talk to you this way?”
    â€œI’ll talk to him, you, or your brother any way I please!” I spat out angrily. “What you do to this horse? How could you ride him down this way? Use a whip on him? Robert! How could you be so stupid as to ever let a Waverly ride my Appaloosa?”
    â€œ Your Appaloosa?” said Robert.
    â€œStupid?” exclaimed Christian. “Boy, you calling a white man stupid?”
    â€œYou got no need to call me names, Paul!” Robert said sharply.
    â€œWell, what else you call it?” I shot right back. “Look at this horse!”
    â€œRobert, you gonna let this boy talk that way to you?” Percy cried again.
    â€œYou don’t do something about this smart-talking white nigger, I will!” vowed Christian.
    Robert didn’t object to the word this time. I took note of that, then turned with Appaloosa and headed off the road into the forest. “Where you going?” Robert