Blood and Boarding House
## Act I — The Gate The iron gates of Beaumont plantation were black with rust and heavy with magnolia blossoms, and Josiah Beaumont stood before them at dusk with a canvas bag over his shoulder and the Mississippi heat pressing down on his neck like a hand. He was eighteen years old. He had lived on this land for eighteen years. And now he was being told, by a man who shared his last name but...
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