Baby

tell me what he is accused of and where he might be?”
    “Well, Mrs. Doyle, he is accused of stealing some valuable gold coins from your husband in Norristown. He was thrown in jail after court by Mr. Doyle himself. He is the chief Magistrate now, you know.”
    “So, he is in jail in Norristown? When will he be getting out?”
    “Don’t know that he will be getting out. Seems he shot one of Mr. Doyle’s horses. Tried to claim the horse as his own, but then couldn’t explain why he shot the horse. He had some dandy story that Doyle’s men shot the horse and framed him. Mr. Doyle had lots of witnesses. You know what happens to a horse thief. Sorry I can’t help you, Mrs. Doyle, but they will probably hang him in time. Good day.” Tipping his hat to Netty he returned to his office, leaving her standing frozen to the spot, her face a bloodless mask.
    ###
    The sheriff watched Netty rush out the door and run down the street. Calling his deputy, he quickly wrote a letter and sealed it. The telephone party line needed to be avoided with a matter as sensitive as this.
    “Deliver this to the boss. He better know she may be up to something; might need to step up his plans. She could start some trouble for us if we’re not careful.”
    ###
    Netty ran blindly down the street. She felt totally alone. Who could she trust in this town? She now realized she and Wil kept to themselves far too much. She had no friends to turn to, only Baby and Wil. That’s all she ever needed. Even her customers were not to be trusted. There was no way of knowing what name sat on Robert’s payroll, plotting against her to steal her land. But she still must save Wil.
    Wringing her hands, she frantically scanned the sparsely crowded street, recognizing no one. She needed someone connected to the court system. She must avoid anyone with clout or success. They might be on Robert’s payroll. She just needed a lead on how to proceed. Rounding a corner, she spotted a pathway that led to the poorly frequented part of town. Rotted garbage lay along a few boarded up store fronts, a door with screechy hinges banged loudly. As she considered the wisdom of her presence there, an unseen child screamed at an imagined insult, the sound echoing down the street. This was the black section of town. Most towns did not even let them own property, but this town fostered a huge respect for a man’s hard work. Many hard working blacks found a home here. Netty stumbled down the pathway coming to the only building that showed any sign of life. She heard southern hill music coming from inside the dark building. Stepping up to the open door she entered. She peered through the dimness, smelling heavily sweating musky male bodies and something she suspected was spirits.
    As her eyes adjusted to the gloom, she noticed every black face turned her way. She hesitated as the room stopped all motion, a sudden silence drawing further eyes her way. Silence ticked loudly.
    “You aut not ta be here, Msus.” She heard a deep voice emanate from the gloom.
    “Gentlemen … ah, if you could just give me a moment of your time? I am sorely in need of advice.” Her faltering words were met with unfriendly stares.
    “Please, I mean no one any harm. I am looking for your legal adviser; if you could just direct me.” Her pleading voice petered out. Netty could not hold back tears as she realized this was a dead end. Turning, she made her way back to the door when she heard a voice say, “Reverend Penny, Misus. You best be leav’in now, b’for there be trouble. Pretty lady like you don belong here.” Nodding her thanks, Netty backed out of the little building, tripping over her feet on the way out. Retracing her steps, she made it back to the main thoroughfare.
    Finding her way to her wagon, she drove to the square where the churches clustered. She was looking for the Baptist Church, the only church that would accept the small number of black families from the area. Reverend Penny was rumored to not see black or white, only God’s children. She should have thought of him to begin with. Netty approached the church, admiring the beauty of its stunning stained glass windows; very expensive stained glass. The congregation must be larger than she realized. Entering the church, she looked down to the altar where Reverend Penny and a little black child stood together.
    A tearful girl of about six years old held a small dog in her arms that looked crushed, probably by the wheel of a