Publisher's Synopsis
It would be just another beautiful day in the deep south, that is if you were not a slave. Off in the distance, the Whip-poor-will is softly singing, lying to everyone, like all is right with the world. How can it be so happy when a child is lying naked in the hay, while it's very young mother, covered in blood is worried she will be killed for having him. What if Madam Tibbs found her child, the very blonde heir to Tibb's Plantation? The hanging trees in the woods are calling her name, "Lucinda, come float from my branches, sweet meat, for you girl, have blasphemed God and your Master Tibbs.
