It is a low sound, almost barely above a whisper to his ears, but nonetheless it is there. John Willington is astonished. He steps onto his balcony ov...rlooking the vast fields of his plantation and sees them. They are walking slowly to the cotton fields with their hoes and plows making noise. John listens and is outraged to hear their voices hum and sing such soulful songs. Why are they doing that? His slaves sing low but sweet. It mystifies him how they could sing at this hour. The slaves pull. He had called Rick about Rosalia. I felt my stomach tighten and I thought I was going to throw up.“That’s okay, boss,” Todd said, slapping me on the back. “You can go with me across the border and get you some of the fine mexi-pussy. Who knows? Maybe you’ll even find the little whore that’s been hang’in around your house.” He gave another of those laughs.“Todd,” I said, glaring at him. “You’re fired.”“You can’t fire me,” he yelled.I walked up to him and looked down into his yellow eyes. “I can. More

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