He walked up to a little backwoods Alabama black Church. Seven
Cedars Baptist. It stood right outside Seven Cedars, Alabama. He laughed. “Be you de sebbenth son of a sebbenth son,
boy?” Well, maybe he was, maybe he wasn’t. Sounded good, though. He went
inside to join the ongoing service. Within a month, he’d collected a group of
ten or so of the black community’s finest young men. He met with them down by the
banks of Seven Cedar Creek.
“My name be Cain,” he announced. “An’ my color be sebben.”
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