“Where?”
“From Samuel Eggleston after he slaughtered the hogs. Father explained his cook needed it for blood soup. He claimed blood soup was his very favorite meal, though in truth he couldn’t stand it.”
“Your father loved Indian pudding,” Sarah said.
James laughed. “Yes, but Samuel didn’t know that. After a few weeks he must have realized my father was eating an extreme amount of blood soup, even for someone who claimed to love it so much. Then he and his sons began sniffing around my father’s house. One night the Egglestons came by, and Jonas, the younger son, asked my father if he was there alone. I was hiding behind the house, not wishing to be seen, but staying close in case my father needed me. Luke, the older son, saw me loitering and started as if in fear.
“Tis merely my son, J
