Granny Pegg?”
“Called that, yes’suh,” she answered.
“I’ve heard of you,” Magnus told her. “I’m Magnus Muldoon. Was a friend of Miss Sarah’s.”
“Ohhhhh.” She nodded. “The bottle-man.”
“And I met Sarah just today,” Matthew said. “I was riding past, and—”
“The reader ,” said Granny Pegg. “Supposed to come by for a visit. She tol’ me. Well…here you are.”
“What happened?” Magnus asked. “I mean… how did it happen?”
“Knife goes in the hollow of the throat. Knife goes in the back six times…a person’s gonna bleed to death.” The ancient eyes moved from Magnus and Matthew to fix upon the body. “Miss Sarah was a slip of a girl. Must not have took her long to pass.”
“A slave did this? Named Abram?” Magnus persisted. “ Why? ”
The old woman sighed. It sounded like the wind of doom moving through the headstones of a cemetery, and Matthew thought that behind it was just as much of a hidden world.
“I take it that’s some kind of response?” Matthew asked.
Granny Pegg didn’t speak for awhile. She looked down at her hands, knotted like pieces of dry bark in her lap. “Things happen here,” she said at last, in a quiet and solemn voice. “Things go on. Like on any plantation, up any river. Not to speak of is the best thing.” She lifted her gaze to Matthew’s. “The best thing,” she repeated.
Matthew turned his attention to the face of the dead girl. He had seen violence and withstood it; he had seen terrible things in his young life, but to think that this girl had been among the living today and then her flame snuffed out so suddenly…and so violently and bloodily. He could smell the blood and feel the pain of the untimely grave in this place. If the squirrels and hard liquor had not made his stomach churn, this surely did. “Do you know why Abram did it?” he had to ask.
Silence from the elderly slave.
“Surely you must,” Matthew prodded, now staring directly at her. “I would think you know everything here. Nothing would get past you, would it?”
“Hm,” she replied, her eyes half-lidded like those of a lizard lying in the hot sun. “Silver on your tongue don’t make me cough up lead.”
“Well, lead is going to be delivered to three men tonight. They ought to be brought back for a trial, but—”
Granny Pegg suddenly blinked and looked at Matthew as if seeing him anew and afresh. “Oh!” she said. “Oh, yes! Now I recall what Miss Sarah said about you. Said you seemed official . Said you were…” She paused, drawing it up from her well. “The law ,” she remembered.
Matthew recalled it, saying perhaps I do represent the law . It occurred to him that maybe he did, and just as much as what he had done to champion Rachel Howarth he should now do to see that the killer of Sarah Kincannon was properly brought to justice. But this wasn’t his country anymore, he knew nothing of this plantation and the people on it, and anyway the slaves would be killed out there on the river or in the swamp once the mob caught up with them. So he ought to be quit with this, head home and mind his own business.
Granny Pegg stood up. She was barely as tall as Matthew’s shoulders, and as slim as a shadow. “You’re the law?” she asked him. “Got that power to you?”
“What power do you mean?”
“The power to do the right thing, and see it through.”
“All men have that power.”
“But all men don’t use it,” she said. “Do you?”
“All I want to know is,” Magnus said, with an air of desperation, “ how did this happen? Why would a slave kill Miss Sarah?”
“Why would anybody kill Miss Sarah?” Granny Pegg came forward from her pew to stand before them. “Not meanin’ no disrespect to either of you fine gen’lmen…but things you hear said…ain’t always how things are.”
“I’m listening,” said Matthew.
“But I cain’t tell, suh,
“Called that, yes’suh,” she answered.
“I’ve heard of you,” Magnus told her. “I’m Magnus Muldoon. Was a friend of Miss Sarah’s.”
“Ohhhhh.” She nodded. “The bottle-man.”
“And I met Sarah just today,” Matthew said. “I was riding past, and—”
“The reader ,” said Granny Pegg. “Supposed to come by for a visit. She tol’ me. Well…here you are.”
“What happened?” Magnus asked. “I mean… how did it happen?”
“Knife goes in the hollow of the throat. Knife goes in the back six times…a person’s gonna bleed to death.” The ancient eyes moved from Magnus and Matthew to fix upon the body. “Miss Sarah was a slip of a girl. Must not have took her long to pass.”
“A slave did this? Named Abram?” Magnus persisted. “ Why? ”
The old woman sighed. It sounded like the wind of doom moving through the headstones of a cemetery, and Matthew thought that behind it was just as much of a hidden world.
“I take it that’s some kind of response?” Matthew asked.
Granny Pegg didn’t speak for awhile. She looked down at her hands, knotted like pieces of dry bark in her lap. “Things happen here,” she said at last, in a quiet and solemn voice. “Things go on. Like on any plantation, up any river. Not to speak of is the best thing.” She lifted her gaze to Matthew’s. “The best thing,” she repeated.
Matthew turned his attention to the face of the dead girl. He had seen violence and withstood it; he had seen terrible things in his young life, but to think that this girl had been among the living today and then her flame snuffed out so suddenly…and so violently and bloodily. He could smell the blood and feel the pain of the untimely grave in this place. If the squirrels and hard liquor had not made his stomach churn, this surely did. “Do you know why Abram did it?” he had to ask.
Silence from the elderly slave.
“Surely you must,” Matthew prodded, now staring directly at her. “I would think you know everything here. Nothing would get past you, would it?”
“Hm,” she replied, her eyes half-lidded like those of a lizard lying in the hot sun. “Silver on your tongue don’t make me cough up lead.”
“Well, lead is going to be delivered to three men tonight. They ought to be brought back for a trial, but—”
Granny Pegg suddenly blinked and looked at Matthew as if seeing him anew and afresh. “Oh!” she said. “Oh, yes! Now I recall what Miss Sarah said about you. Said you seemed official . Said you were…” She paused, drawing it up from her well. “The law ,” she remembered.
Matthew recalled it, saying perhaps I do represent the law . It occurred to him that maybe he did, and just as much as what he had done to champion Rachel Howarth he should now do to see that the killer of Sarah Kincannon was properly brought to justice. But this wasn’t his country anymore, he knew nothing of this plantation and the people on it, and anyway the slaves would be killed out there on the river or in the swamp once the mob caught up with them. So he ought to be quit with this, head home and mind his own business.
Granny Pegg stood up. She was barely as tall as Matthew’s shoulders, and as slim as a shadow. “You’re the law?” she asked him. “Got that power to you?”
“What power do you mean?”
“The power to do the right thing, and see it through.”
“All men have that power.”
“But all men don’t use it,” she said. “Do you?”
“All I want to know is,” Magnus said, with an air of desperation, “ how did this happen? Why would a slave kill Miss Sarah?”
“Why would anybody kill Miss Sarah?” Granny Pegg came forward from her pew to stand before them. “Not meanin’ no disrespect to either of you fine gen’lmen…but things you hear said…ain’t always how things are.”
“I’m listening,” said Matthew.
“But I cain’t tell, suh,
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