Page 105 of The Giver of Stars
Overnight two trailer homes arrived on the road by the courthouse. Extra state policemen were visible around town, and a crowd began to build outside the jailhouse by teatime on Monday, fuelled by a newspaper report in theLexington Courierheadlined:
MOONSHINER’S DAUGHTER KILLED MAN WITH LIBRARY BOOK IN BLOOD FEUD.
‘This is trash,’ Kathleen said, when Mrs Beidecker handed her a copy at the school. But that didn’t stop the people gathering, a few starting to catcall out back so that the sound would reach through the open window of Margery’s cell. Deputy Dulles came out twice, his palms up, trying to calm them, but a tall moustachioed man in an ill-fitting suit, whom nobody had seen before and claimed to be Clem McCullough’s cousin, said they were just exercising their God-given right to free speech. And if he wanted to talk about what a murdering bitch that O’Hare girl was then it was nobody else’s damn business. They jostled each other, fuelling their bold claims with alcohol, and by dusk the yard outside the jailhouse was thick with people, some drunk, some shouting insults at Margery, others yelling back at them that they were not from round here and why didn’t they keep their troublemaking ways to themselves? The older ladies of the town withdrew behind their doors, muttering, and some of the younger men, emboldened by the chaos, started a bonfire by the garage. It felt, briefly, as if the orderly little town had become a place where almost anything could happen. And none of it good.
Word got to the librarians as they returned from theirroutes, and each put away her horse and sat in silence with the door open for a while, listening to the distant sounds of protest.
Murdering bitch!
You gonna get yours, you whore!
Now, now, gentlemen. There are ladies in this crowd. Let’s keep things reasonable.
‘I swear I’m glad Sven isn’t here to see it,’ said Beth. ‘You know he wouldn’t stand to hear Marge talked about that way.’
‘I can’t bear it,’ said Izzy, who was watching through the door. ‘Imagine how she must be feeling having to listen to all that.’
‘She’ll be so sad without the baby too.’
It was all Alice could think about. To be the recipient of such hate, without the prospect of a word of comfort from those who loved you. The way Margery had isolated herself made Alice want to weep. It was like an animal that deliberately takes itself off somewhere solitary before it dies.
‘Lord help our girl,’ Sophia said quietly.
And then Mrs Brady walked through the door, glancing behind her, her cheeks ruddy and her hair electric with fury. ‘I swear I thought this town knew better. I am ashamed of my neighbours, I really am. I can only imagine what Mrs Nofcier would say if she happened to catch wind of this.’
‘Fred reckons they’ll be out there all night.’
‘I simply do not know what this town is coming to. Why Sheriff Archer doesn’t take a bullwhip to them I have no idea. I swear we’re becoming worse than Harlan.’
It was then that they heard Van Cleve’s voice rising above the swell of the crowd: ‘You can’t say I didn’t warn you, people! She’s a danger to men and to this town. The court is going to hear what kind of malign influence the O’Hare girl is, you mark my words. Only one place for her!’
‘Oh, hell, nowhe’s fixing to stir things up,’ said Beth.
‘Folks, you will hear how much of an abomination the girl is. Against the laws of nature! Nothing she says can be trusted!’
‘That does it,’ said Izzy, her jaw clenched.
Mrs Brady turned to look at her daughter, as Izzy climbed to her feet. She grabbed her stick and walked to the door. ‘Mother? Will you come with me?’
They moved as one, pulling on boots and hats in silence. And then, without discussion, they stood together at the top of the steps: Kathleen and Beth, Izzy and Mrs Brady and, after a moment’s hesitation, Sophia, who rose from behind her desk, her face tense but determined, reaching for her purse. The others stopped to look at her. Then Alice, her heart in her throat, held out her arm and Sophia slid her own through it. And the six women walked out of the library and, in a tight group, along the shimmering road towards the jailhouse in silence, their faces set and their pace determined.
The crowd broke as they arrived, partly through the sheer force of Mrs Brady, whose elbows were out and whose expression was thunderous, but partly in shock at the coloured woman who stood between them, her arms linked with those of Bennett Van Cleve’s wife and the Bligh widow.
Mrs Brady reached the front of the crowd and pushed her way through so that she was standing with her back to the jail and turned to face them. ‘Are you not ashamed of yourselves?’ she bellowed at them. ‘What kind of men are you?’
‘She’s a murderer!’
‘In this country we believe in the presumption of innocence unless proven otherwise. So you can take your disgusting words and your slogans and you can darn well leave that girl alone until the law says you have good reason!’
She pointed at the moustachioed man. ‘What business doyou have in our town anyway? I swear some of you are here just to cause trouble. Because you’re sure as anything not from Baileyville.’
‘I’m Clem’s second cousin. Got a right to be here as much as anyone. I cared about my cousin.’
‘Caring cousin my backside,’ said Mrs Brady. ‘Where were you when his daughters were starving, their hair full of cooties? When they were stealing food from people’s gardens because he was too drunk to bother feeding them? Where were you then, huh? You have no genuine feeling for that family.’
‘You’re just sticking up for your own. We all know what them librarians have been up to.’
‘You know nothing!’ retorted Mrs Brady. ‘And you, Henry Porteous, why, I thought you were old enough to know better. As for this fool –’ she pointed at Van Cleve – ‘I honestly believed our neighbours would have more sense than to trust a man who has built an entire fortune on the back of misery and destruction, mostly at this town’s cost. How many of you lost your homes to his slurry dam, huh? How many of you were given warning to save yourselves by Miss O’Hare there? And yet, given baseless rumour and gossip, you would rather castigate a woman than look at the true criminal around here.’
