“Think they’ll shoot at us?” said Beth, and spat noisily.

Fred had instructed Alice to bring his gun and it was slung over her shoulder by its strap. She couldn’t work out whether it was a good or a bad thing for the McCullough family to see she had it in her possession.

“Wonder how many of them are in there. Someone told my eldest brother that none of the out-of-town McCulloughs even came up this far.”

“Yeah. Like Mrs. Brady said, they most likely just came for the circus,” said Kathleen, squinting as she tried to see better.

“Ain’t like they were coming for the McCullough riches, is it? What did your mama say about you coming up here, anyway?” said Beth to Izzy. “I’m surprised she let you.”

Izzy pushed Patch forward over a small ditch, clearing it with a grunt.

“Izzy?”

“She doesn’t exactly know.”

“Izzy!” Alice turned in her saddle.

“Oh, hush, Alice. You know as well as I do that she would never have let me.” Izzy rubbed at her boot.

They all faced the house. Alice shivered.

“If anything happens to you, your mother is going to have me in that dock alongside Margery. Oh, Izzy. This is not safe. I would never have let you come had you told me.” Alice shook her head.

“So why did you come, Izzy?” said Beth.

“Because we are a team. And a team sticks together.” Izzy lifted her chin. “We are the Baileyville packhorse librarians and we stick together.”

Beth punched her lightly on the arm as her horse moved forward. “Well, goddamn to that.”

“Ugh. Will you ever stop cursing, Beth Pinker?”

And Izzy punched her back and squealed as the horses collided.

* * *

• • •

In the end it was Alice who went first. They walked up as far as the snarling dog on the chain would allow, and Alice dismounted, handing her reins to Kathleen. She took a few steps toward the door, staying wide of the dog, its teeth bared and its hackles lifted in little spikes. She eyed the chain nervously, hoping that the other end was pinned securely.

“Hello?”

Two windows at the front, thick with dirt, stared back blankly at them. If it hadn’t been for the trickle of smoke she might have been certain that nobody was home.

Alice took a step closer, her voice lifting. “Miss McCullough? You don’t know me, but I work at the Packhorse Library down in town. I know you didn’t want to talk to the sheriff’s men but I would very much appreciate it if you could help us at all.”

Her voice bounced off the mountainside. There was no movement from within the house.

Alice turned and looked at the others uncertainly. The horses stamped their feet impatiently, their nostrils flaring as they eyed the growling dog.

“It would really only take a minute!”

The dog turned its head and quieted briefly. For a moment the mountain was possessed of a dead silence. Nothing stirred, not the horses, the birds in the trees. Alice felt her skin prickle, as if this presaged something terrible. She thought of the description of McCullough’s body, his eyes pecked clean out of his head. Lying not too far from here, for months.

I don’t want to be here, she thought, and felt something visceral and fearful trickle down her spine. She looked up and saw Beth, who nodded at her, as if to say, Go on—try again.

“Hello? Miss McCullough? Anybody?”

Nothing stirred.

“Hello?”

A voice broke into the silence: “You all can git and leave us alone!”

Alice turned on her heel to find two barrels of a gun visible through the gap in the door.

She swallowed and was about to speak again, when Kathleen appeared on foot beside her. She put a hand on Alice’s arm. “Verna? Is that you? I don’t know if you remember me but it’s Kathleen Hannigan, now Bligh. I used to play with your sister down at Split Creek? We made corn dollies with my ma one harvest time and I think she made one for you. With a spotted ribbon? Would you remember that?”

The dog was eyeing Kathleen now, its lips pulled back over its teeth.

“We’re not here to cause no trouble,” she said, her palms up. “We’re just in something of a fix with our good friend and we’d be real grateful for the chance to speak with you for a moment or two about it.”

“We got nothing to say to any of youse!”

Nobody moved. The dog stopped growling briefly, its nose pointing toward the door. The two barrels didn’t budge.

“I ain’t coming to town,” said the voice from inside. “I . . . I’m not coming. I told the sheriff what day our pa disappeared and that’s that. You ain’t getting nothing else.”

Kathleen took a step closer. “We understand, Verna. We would just really welcome a couple minutes of your time to talk. Just to help our friend. Please?”

There was a long silence.

“What happened to her?”

They looked at each other.

“You don’t know?” said Kathleen.

“Sheriff just said they found my pa’s body. And the murderer to go with it.”

Alice spoke up. “That’s pretty much it. Except, Miss Verna, it’s our friend who is standing trial and we would swear on the Bible that she is not a murderer.”

“Miss Verna, you may know of Margery O’Hare. You know her daddy’s name travels before her.” Kathleen’s voice had lowered, as if they were in some casual conversation. “But she’s a good woman, a little . . . unconventional, but not a cold-blooded killer. And her baby faces growing up without a mother because of gossip and rumor.”

“Margery O’Hare had a baby?” The gun lowered an inch. “Who’d she marry?”

They exchanged awkward glances.

“Well, she ain’t exactly married.”

“But that doesn’t mean nothing,” Izzy called hurriedly. “Doesn’t mean she isn’t a good person.”

Beth brought her horse a few steps closer toward the house, and held up a saddlebag. “You want some books, Miss McCullough? For you or your sister? We got recipe books, storybooks, all kinds of books. Lots of families up in the mountains happy to take them. You don’t have to pay, and we’ll bring you new ones when you like.”

Kathleen shook her head at Beth and mouthed, I don’t think she can read.

Alice, anxious, tried to talk over them: “Miss McCullough, we’re truly, truly sorry about your father. You must have loved him very much. And we’re really sorry to trouble you with this matter. We wouldn’t be here unless we were desperate to help our friend—”