〃And if you change the threads around； can't you make things go different？〃 Alvin had in mind a careful rearrangement； spreading the threads out more even…like； and getting those black threads farther apart from each other。
〃It doesn't work like that；〃 she said。 〃I don't make things happen； with what I do here。 Things that happen； they change me。 Don't fret about it； Alvin。〃
〃But there wasn't even White folks in this part of America more than two hundred years ago。 How can this cloth go farther back？〃
She sighed。 〃Isaac； why did you bring him to plague me with questions？〃
Ta…Kumsaw smiled at her。
〃Lad； will you tell no one？〃 she asked。 〃Will you keep it secret who I am and what I do？〃
〃I promise。〃
〃I weave； Alvin。 That's all。 My whole family； from before we even remember； we've been weavers。〃
〃That your name； then？ Becca Weaver？ My brother…in…law； Armor…of…God； his pa's a Weaver； and〃
〃Nobody calls us weavers；〃 said Becca。 〃If they had any name for as at all； they'd call us no。〃
She wouldn't tell him。
〃No； Alvin； I can't put such a burden on you。 Because you'd want to e。 You'd want to e and see。〃
〃See what？〃 asked Alvin。
〃Like Isaac here。 I should never have told him； either。〃
〃He kept the secret； though。 Never breathed a word。〃
〃He didn't keep it secret from himself； though。 He came to see。〃
〃See what？〃 Alvin asked again。
〃See how long are the threads a…flowing up into my loom。〃
Only then did Alvin notice the back end of the loom； where the warp threads were gathered into。 place by a rack of fine steel wires。 The threads weren't colored at all。 They were raw white。 Cotton？ Surely not wool。 Linen； maybe。 With all the colors in the finished cloth； he hadn't really noticed what it was made of。
〃Where do the colors e from？〃 asked Alvin。
No one answered。
〃Some of the threads go slack。〃
〃Some of them end；〃 said Ta…Kumsaw。
〃Many of them end；〃 said Becca。 〃And many begin。 It's the pattern of life。〃
〃What do you see； Alvin？〃 asked Ta…Kumsaw。
〃If these black threads are your folk；〃 said Alvin； 〃then I'd say there's a battle ing； and a lot are going to die。 Not like Tippy…Canoe； though。 Not as bad。〃
〃That's what I see； too；〃 said Ta…Kumsaw。
〃And these other colors all bunched up； what are they？ An army of White folk？〃
〃Word is that a man named Andrew Jackson of the western Tennizy country is gathering up an army。 They call him Old Hickory。〃
〃I know the man；〃 said Ta…Kumsaw。 〃He doesn't stay in the saddle too well。〃
〃He's been doing with White folks what you've been doing with Red； Isaac。 He's been going up and down the western country； rousting people out and haranguing them about the Red Menace。 About you； Isaac。 For every Red soldier you've gathered； he's recruited two Whites。 And he figures you'll go north； to join with a French army。 He knows all your plans。〃
〃He knows nothing；〃 said Ta…Kumsaw。 〃Alvin； tell me； how many threads of this White army end？〃
〃A lot。 More； maybe。 I don't know。 It's about even。〃
〃Then it tells me nothing。〃
〃It tells you that you'll have your battle；〃 said Becca。 〃It tells you that there'll be more blood and suffering in the world； thanks to you。〃
〃But it says nothing of victory；〃 said Ta…Kumsaw。
〃It never does。〃
Alvin wondered if you could just tie another thread onto the end of one of the broken ones； and save somebody's life。 He looked for the spools of thread from which the warp was formed； but he couldn't find them。 The threads hung down from the back beam of the loom； taut like there was a heavy weight hanging on them； but Alvin couldn't see where the threads came from。 They didn't touch the floor。 They didn't exactly stop； either。 He looked this far； and there they were； hanging tight and long； and he looked this much farther； and there weren't no threads； nothing there at all。 The threads were just ing out of nowhere； and there was no way the human eye could see or make sense of how they started。
But Alvin； he could see with other eyes； inward eyes； the way he studied into the tiny workings of the human body； into the cold inward currents of stone。 And with that hidden vision he looked into a single thread and traced its shape； following how the fibers wound around and through； twisting and gripping each other to make the strength of the yarn。 This time he could just keep following the thread。 Just keep on following until finally； far beyond the place where the threads all disappeared to natural eyes； the thread ended。 Whosever soul that thread bespoke； he had a good long life ahead of him； before he died。
All these threads must end； when the person dies。 And somehow a new thread must start up when a baby got born。 Another thread ing out of nowhere。
〃It never ends；〃 said Becca。 〃I'll grow old and die； Alvin； but the cloth will go on。〃
〃Do you know which thread is you？〃
〃No；〃 she said。 〃I don't want to know。〃
〃I reckon I'd like to see。 I want to know how many years I got。〃
〃Many；〃 said Ta…Kumsaw。 〃Or few。 All that matters is what you do with however many years you have。〃
〃It does too matter how long I live；〃 said Alvin。 〃Don't go saying it don't； cause you don't believe that yourself。〃
Becca laughed。
〃Miss Becca；〃 said Alvin； 〃what do you do this for； if you don't make things happen？〃
She shrugged。 〃It's a work。 Everybody has a work to do； and this is mine。〃
〃You could go out and weave things for folks to wear。〃
〃To wear and then wear out；〃 she said。 〃And no； Alvin； I can't go out。〃
〃You mean you stay indoors all the time？〃
〃I stay here； always；〃 she said。 〃In this room； with my loom。〃
〃I begged you once to go with me；〃 said Isaac。
〃And I begged you once to stay。〃 She smiled up at him。
〃I can't live forever where the land is dead。〃
〃And I can't live a moment away from my cloth。 The way the land lives in your mind； Isaac； that is how the lives of all the souls of America live in mine。 But I love you。 Even now。〃
Alvin felt like he shouldn't be there。 It was like they forgot he was there； even though he'd just been talking to them。 It finally dawned on him that they'd probably rather be alone。 So he moved away； walked over to the cloth again； and again began tracing its path； the opposite direction this time； scanning quickly but carefully； up the walls； through the bolts and piles； searching for the earliest end of the cloth。
Couldn't find it。 In fact； he must have been looking the wrong direction or got himself twisted up； because pretty soon he found himself on the same familiar path he had followed； the path that first led him to the loom。 He reversed direction； and after a short time he found himself again on the path to the loom。 He could no more search backward to find the oldest end of the cloth than he could search forward to find where the newest threads were ing from。
He turned again to Ta…Kumsaw and Becca。 Whatever whispered conversation they had carried on was over。 Ta…Kumsaw sat cross…legged on the floor in front of her； his head bowed。 She was stroking his hair with gentle hands。
〃This cloth is older than the oldest part of this house；〃 said Alvin。
Becca didn't answer。
〃This cloth's been going on forever。〃
〃As long as men and women have known how to weave； this cloth has passed through the loom。〃
〃But not this loom。 This loom's new；〃 said Alvin。
〃We change looms from time to time。 We build the new one around the old。 It's what the men of our kind do。〃
〃This cloth is older than the oldest White settlements in America；〃 said Alvin。
〃It was once a part of a larger cloth。 But one day； back in our old country； we saw a large portion of the threads moving off the edge of the cloth。 My great…great…great…great…great…great…grandfather built a new loom。 We had the threads we needed。 They pulled away from the old cloth； we continued it from there。 It's still connected up that's what you're seeing。〃
〃But now it's here。〃
〃It's here and there。 Don't try to understand it； Alvin。 I gave up long ago。 But isn't it good to know that all of the threads of life are being wov