Page 54 of The Giver of Stars
‘Nobody,’ she said quickly. Her hands were trembling, but it wasn’t from cold.
Sophia put down her book. ‘You okay, Miss Margery? You don’t seem yourself.’
‘I’m fine. I’m fine.’ She peered out of the door, like she was waiting for something.
Sophia eyed her bag. ‘You want to give me those books, so I can enter them?’
Margery didn’t answer, her attention still fixed on the door, so Sophia got up and pulled them out herself, placing them on the desk one by one. ‘Mack Maguire and the Indian Chief? Weren’t you taking this to the Stone sisters up at Arnott’s Ridge?’
Margery’s head spun round. ‘What? Oh. Yes. I’ll … I’ll take them tomorrow.’
‘Ridge not passable?’
‘No.’
‘Then how you going to get up there tomorrow? It’s still snowing.’
Margery seemed temporarily lost for words. ‘I’ll … I’ll work it out.’
‘Where’sLittle Women? You signed that out too, remember?’
She was behaving real strange. And then, she told William, Mr Frederick came in and it got really odd.
‘Fred, you got any spare guns?’
He put a basket of logs down by the burner. ‘Guns? What you want guns for, Marge?’
‘I just thought … I thought maybe it would be good for the girls to learn to shoot. To take a firearm on the remote routes. In case.’ She blinked twice. ‘Of snakes.’
‘In winter?’
‘Bears, then.’
‘Hibernating. ’Sides, nobody’s seen a bear in these mountains for five, ten years. You know that as well as I do.’
Sophia looked incredulous. ‘You think Mrs Brady’s gonna let her little girl carry a gun? You’re meant to be carrying books, Marge, not guns. You think some family who don’t trust you girls anyways gonna trust you more if you turn up at their house with a hunting rifle strapped to your back?’
Fred was frowning at her. He and Sophia exchanged a bemused look.
Margery appeared to snap out of whatever weird funk she was in. ‘You’re right. You’re right. Don’t know what I was thinking.’ She raised an unconvincing smile.
But here was the thing, Sophia told William, as they sat at the little table eating supper. Two days later when Margery returned, Sophia picked up her saddlebag to unpack it while Margery stepped out to use the water closet. The days were cold and hard and she liked to help the girls whichever way she could. She took out the last of the books, then nearly dropped the canvas bag in fright. At the bottom, neatly wrapped in a red handkerchief, she could just make out the bone grip of a Colt .45 pistol.
‘Bob told me you were waiting out here. I wondered why you cancelled on me last night.’ Sven Gustavsson emerged from the gates of the mine still in his work overalls but with his thick flannel jacket over the top and his hands thrust deep into his pockets. He walked up to the mule and stroked his neck, letting Charley’s soft nose nuzzle his pockets for treats.‘Get a better offer, did you?’ He smiled and placed his hand on Margery’s leg. She flinched.
He removed it, his smile vanishing. ‘You okay?’
‘Can you come to mine when you’re done?’
He studied her face. ‘Sure. But I thought we weren’t seeing each other till Friday.’
‘Please.’
She never said please.
Despite the freezing temperatures he found her on the rocking chair on the stoop, her rifle across her legs in the dark, the light of the little oil lamp flickering across her face. She was rigid, her eyes trained on the horizon, her jaw set. Bluey sat at her feet, glancing up at her from minute to minute, as if her anxiety had rubbed off on him, and shaking in short bursts from the cold.
‘What’s going on, Marge?’
