“Objection and irrelevant!” Mr. Vessels shot out an arm to R.C.
“Overruled. Please continue, Mr. Cole.” The judge motioned to him with his palm.
“Miss Grant had several property accidents we believed were caused by Mr. Gillis and his relative in the past, but unfortunately we were unable to prove it or get the sheriff’s official help on the matter. I learned just yesterday the state police has opened an official investigation into the sheriff’s dereliction of duty and—”
“Objection, this hearing isn’t about Sheriff Buckner,” Mr. Vessels said.
“Sustained,” the judge ruled.
R.C. glanced disgustedly over at the lawman.
The sheriff looked away. Mr. Vessels leaned close to the sheriff and whispered. The lawman shook his head.
I exhaled, knowing the sheriff would be under the watchful eye of the state police for some time if not longer. I dared to peek back at Pearl, and she shot me a small, satisfied smile, knowing it too.
“Can you speak of Honey Lovett’s character, Mr. Cole?” Mr. Morgan asked.
“Know’d her all her life, as well her family. Honorable and decent folks.”
After Mr. Morgan concluded, Mr. Vessels looked like he might question R.C. but for some reason didn’t.
“Your Honor, I would like to call my last witness, Miss Eula Foster, the director at the Troublesome Creek Library,” Mr. Morgan said.
She was sworn in and quickly took her seat.
“Miss Foster, you hired Miss Lovett to deliver reading material on her mule to extend your outreach program, much like your library had with the Pack Horse initiative in the ’30s and ’40s, is that correct?”
“It is correct,” Miss Foster said quietly, not meeting my eyes.
“Is Miss Lovett a good employee?”
“Her work seems satisfactory enough, but”—she glanced over at the other table—“if her character and morals were in question, then unfortunately we’d have to let her go.”
I heard the jangling and a hiss behind me and knew it came from Pearl. I chanced a glance and saw the misery puddled on her face.
“But her work performance is satisfactory, and she currently has a good record in your employment?” Mr. Morgan pressed.
“Yes, so far.” Miss Foster darted her eyes to me and then cast them meekly to her lap.
“Your witness,” Mr. Morgan told Mr. Vessels.
“Miss Foster, does your library carry Chopin’s The Awakening?” Mr. Vessels asked.
“I… Well, I didn’t know it was still in circulation anywhere.”
“Is it banned?”
“I’m unaware of its current status.”
“So your library carries and supports and willingly condones sex-fiction books—”
“Objection.” Mr. Morgan scowled.
“Overruled,” Judge Norton said briskly.
Mr. Vessels pressed his fingertips together as he walked in front of his table. “Miss Foster, as you are probably aware, The Awakening was written by a woman with a diseased mind and blackened soul. So I’m asking you, do you carry The Awakening, or any other such damnable written works?” He paused and turned to me. “Did you hire librarian Honey Mary-Angeline Lovett to carry dirty books up those rocks?” Mr. Vessels pushed.
Eula pinched her lips together tightly and screwed up her pale face, her taut cheeks blotting red. “No, sir, I most certainly did not! The Troublesome Creek Public Library doesn’t carry books that would offend the Kentucky man or ones that would go against the Godly morals and practicing Christian beliefs of decent, God-fearing folks!”