It, she’d called me. I wasn’t even human to them. An angry tear sprang up, and I lowered my head and quickly blinked it away as a fury thundered inside me. Pearl edged Pie closer to me.
“Furthermore, it is hereby ordered that Honey Mary-Angeline Lovett work the farm and—”
Kentucky House of Reform. The children’s prison. A roar licked at my ears, her words dizzying me as my world was crushed, my life robbed. For the first time I understood how a heart could break, how it felt, and I placed a protective hand over mine. It ached for the loss of my parents and the punishment I was about to receive. So much so that I feared my heart would leap out of my chest, shrivel up, and rot on the cold Kentucky ground.
The woman took a step toward us.
Junia shifted, and I grabbed hold of her mane and felt her muscles shuddering, the dangerous neigh rising from her chest, calling for a storm.
The social worker inched closer, close enough to snatch my arm if she had a mind to. Junia toe-hopped, swished her tail as if flicking the woman back. The woman took another step, and one more.
Then the mule passed noxious gas and shrieked out two warnings, blowing her hot, smelly breath into the older woman’s face, sending her and the sheriff reeling backwards and pinching their noses. Mrs. Wallace dug into her coat pocket and pulled out a handkerchief.
My eyes watered, and I choked on the smell. Pearl coughed several times, then fanned a hand in front of her face and leaned over, closer to Junia’s ear, and whispered, “Whoa. You did yourself proud, old apostle gal. That would peel the paint off Heaven’s door.”
“Mr. Smith,” the woman called out to him, her voice muffled, pressing the handkerchief to her nose and wet eyes. “I’m here to take one of these girls into custody, and if you won’t tell me, I’ll take them both. One way or another, one or both of these girls will be shackled tomorrow and digging rock come sunrise—”
Devil Smith held up his hand. “Ma’am, I know you have yourself a job to do, but I need to get my daughters home in time for supper and chores. It’s a long ride through them hills.” He looked down at me and then over to Pearl atop her horse and said loudly, “Lettie and Colleen, I reckon we won’t be dropping off supplies this week for Book Woman. Let’s get home ’fore your ma starts frettin’ our whereabouts.”
I looked at our full panniers, realizing we had put them back on the mounts this morning, and was grateful to Devil John for his quick thinking.
“Can you prove they’re your daughters, Mr. Smith?” the sheriff asked, polite enough.
“Not unless you want to follow me home ’bout thirty-odd miles yander over them hills, and not as the crow flies,” Devil John answered.
Oh, what was Devil John up to, I wondered. No moonshiner would ever lead a lawman into his holler—and no lawman would ever find a ’Tucky hootch peddler that didn’t want to be found. No sir.
“You’ll need yourself a sturdy mount. No roads where I live, only trails, an’ some still likely to be snow-packed,” Devil John advised. “Be happy to have my woman feed ya supper though. She put on a pot of leather britches this morn’。 Reckon we’ll have some skillet corn bread, too, and a tasty apple stack cake afterward. Mighty good fixin’s she whips up.”
The lawman swiped a finger over a wet mouth and looked at his wristwatch, annoyed.
I lifted up a silent prayer and hoped he wouldn’t want to miss his dinner back in town.
From behind, someone hollered “Pa, Pa” and sprinted toward us.
It was Carson.
My heart sank, and I felt a tremble crawl into my hands, afraid he’d give me away.
“Pa, I got a ride partway in Mr. Brown’s wagon.” He ran a hand across his head, smoothing down his tousled brown hair. His cheeks were spotted pink from the run. “Had to run the rest,” he said, out of breath. “Ma sent me to fetch ya home. One of the babies took to the colic again. It’s real bad, and she needs ya to call on one of the frontier nurses.”