Baby

to the cabin and slept long hours. She knew the Jerseys were being tended to by Wil’s helpers. Luckily, she found she suffered no lasting damage from the assault. She refused to use the word rape. Denial was her current means of exerting control in a world that left her feeling like flotsam at the mercy of a hurricane. So she just slept while she waited for Wil to come home.
    Almost three weeks passed by the time she seriously considered searching for him. She was in the kitchen when she heard a knock at the door. Shooing Baby into the bedroom, she answered the door. It was farmer Neal from down the road.
    “Howdy, Netty,” he said removing his hat. He danced from side to side as if he had to urinate. “Well now, ah … oh, shoot. You sure have been good to my Ruthann, so I thought I should be the one to tell you. We were in town last week and we heard tell that Wil was in jail. They said he got arrested for stealing. Got him dead to rights down the road from where it happened. They say he shot his horse and tried to blame it on someone else. Sorry to give you the news, Netty.” Looking down he noticed she was no longer pregnant. “Well, well, Netty, looks like the baby came. Congratulations. Be seeing you now.” And with a tip of his hat, he disappeared off the stoop.
    Netty stood motionless, her brain stunned, then overcome with panic. She heated some water on the fireplace and washed up in her bedroom. Her hair was a mess. She pulled it back quickly. Running to the barn, she got their other horse and hooked up the wagon. She instructed Baby to lock the door and not come out for anything. Quickly, she rode toward town. Maggie shot by Wil? Never. Absolutely not. Maybe farmer Neal got the story wrong. She knew for sure Wil did not steal a darn thing. Choking back a sob, she urged the horse to hurry. She arrived in town just after lunch, making a beeline for the sheriff’s office.
    Entering one of the only brick buildings in town, she felt her anxieties return, wondering what she needed to say. Should she report Wil as missing? Should she report farmer Neal’s story? Should she report the rape? She decided she must first find Wil. Walking up to the desk in front of a large reception room, she asked for the sheriff. Explaining he was in a meeting, the receptionist suggested she could wait if she liked. Netty decided she would wait. She took a seat furthest from the front door. It offered some measure of privacy, sheltered behind a wall that projected partially into the room. The small wall displayed all kinds of official bulletins. Netty hoped perhaps they might be revealing.
    Time passed slowly as Netty read the bulletins. Townspeople bustled in and out on various errands. Many found time just to shoot the breeze and pass the time with the sheriff’s receptionist. As Netty scanned the sheriff’s bulletins, she noticed Mr. Simpson, the creepy butcher, enter with a deputy. Just then, the sheriff came into the room and joined them. For some reason, Netty thought to shrink tight against the wall where she could not be seen. She was just close enough to see Mr. Simpson clap the sheriff on the arm. Not wanting to eavesdrop, she looked out the window. She snapped her attention back to the room when she heard Mr. Simpson say in a coarse whisper, “Hear you found an easy way to part that upstart drifter, Wil Capaccino from Netty Doyle’s property. Does the boss have any plans to get rid of him for good or is he just gunna go for the land now that she’s easy pickings?”
    “We need to take things slow. I think Doyle is going to let him rot in jail until he comes up with a plan to grab the property. These things are getting harder and harder to cover. His men (that includes you, too, Simpson) tend to get a little too bloodthirsty for me. Go easy on her, won’t you? I don’t want an unexplainable body to dispose of. I’d like to avoid raising a lot of uncomfortable questions.” The sheriff shook hands with Mr. Simpson and escorted him to the door. Turning, he spotted Netty sitting against the wall. His face froze. Shaking off his surprise, he approached her.
    “Well, Mrs. Doyle, is there some way I can help you today?”
    Netty had heard enough to realize what she was up against. Robert must have quite a few in this town on his payroll. The best thing to do was to act as if she heard nothing. But she still needed information. She swallowed quickly to steady her voice.
    “I understand Wil is in jail. Can you