“Who?” Judd took a dangerous step toward the shivering child. “Who is this ‘she’?”
“My friend. Abigail.”
However impossible within the suffocating confines of the revival tent, my blood ran cold.
Judd’s wife swatted at the child. “I’ve told you to stop talking about this Abigail. She’s not real!”
“She is!” the girl shouted, before racing out of the tent.
Judd started after her with balled fists, but paused, unable to continue with the weight of everyone’s judgment and disapproval.
“See?” Parson Briard crowed. “Confessions help clear the soul. They free the truth. Who will come forward next? Judd—perhaps you’ve something to say?”
“I—I suppose I owe Mr. Fowler an apology….I’m sorry I accused you just now…and I’m sorry I ever mentioned it to Edmund Latheton.”
The farmer’s gaze darted to Edmund. “What does he mean?”
Every trace of color drained away from the carpenter’s face. “I was only helping you out, Judd!” He turned his attention to Gran, utterly stricken. “I—I’m sorry. Judd was so angry and kept saying you needed to be made to pay….”
Gran sucked in a breath. “My chickens. That was you?”
“Abrams helped. And…that other man.”
Judd snorted. “What other man?”
“The tall one, with the funny hat. I’d never seen him before. I thought he was one of your ranch hands.”
“It was you and me in that coop. No one else.”
“He was big, almost as tall as you, and…” Edmund’s brow furrowed as he struggled to remember. “He had a silver coin, I think. A silver…something. It kept flashing in my eyes….” His fingers scrubbed over his face, nails raking red slashes down his cheeks. “I’m so, so terribly sorry, Gran. I don’t…I still don’t know why I did it…what came over me…”
“Wickedness,” Parson Briard said. “Your heart was full of wickedness. Repent now and be forgiven.”
“I do,” Edmund said, pushing his way to the aisle. He knelt at Gran’s feet, clutching the farmer’s calves. “I want to apologize. To atone. Most earnestly.”
The parson nodded gravely. “Your repentance is seen. Your sins are forgiven.”
“God can forgive you all he wants. I won’t,” Gran muttered, kicking Edmund away before he stalked off. When Judd tried to step into his path, the farmer shoved the giant man aside without a second’s pause. “Come on, Alice. I’ve had enough of this nonsense.”
The schoolteacher remained in her seat. “I…I want to stay.”
“You can’t be serious.”
She cast an uncertain eye over the group. It fell on Bonnie Maddin and lingered warily. “No, I’m staying. Someone here burned down my schoolhouse, and I want to know who it was.”
I sucked in a swift breath, my gaze falling to my feet.
I hadn’t done it.
It had been a dream.
I hadn’t burned down the school.
I didn’t think.
Gran studied her for a long moment before shaking his head and walking off.
Parson Briard raised his arms in a welcoming gesture. “Who will clear their conscience next? Come, come all, and be set free!”
The tent came alive with whispers as people urged their friends, their spouses, their family forward.
“I saw Martha leaving the Buhrmans’ yard early on the morning of Ruth Anne Mullins’s funeral,” Molly McCleary declared, her eyes glassy and bright as she pointed at her mother-in-law. “She was muttering to herself, and her dress was splattered with blood.”
Prudence leapt to her feet with vindication. “I told you I didn’t kill that goat!”
Violet turned toward the Elder’s wife, aghast. “Martha, is it true?”
The older woman burst into tears.
Near the front, Cora Schäfer rose. “I heard Mark Danforth bragging to his friends about busting up Cypress Bell’s fence!”
“That was you?” Cypress exclaimed, and grabbed Rebecca’s brother by the front of his shirt.
Rebecca’s brother let out a snicker of laughter, even as he tried to squirm free.
At the far side of the tent, an argument broke out between Alice Fowler and Bonnie Maddin. Without warning, Alice struck her, and left behind a blood-red handprint.
“It wasn’t me, I swear!” Bonnie wailed.
“I’ll get your confession even if I have to beat it out of you!” the schoolmarm snarled, launching herself at the girl.
Martha’s sobs were nearly drowned out in the sea of angry voices and accusations. She fell before Violet, grasping at her skirts and shaking with penitence. “She said she could give me the medicine Amos needed, but I had to do what she said. He was dying! How could I say no?”
“Who?” Violet demanded, trying to shake Martha from her. “Who would want to hurt me?” Her eyes flashed back to the Lathetons. “It was that bitch, wasn’t it?”
“Get this cow off me!” Bonnie howled.
Martha’s response was lost as a brawl erupted behind her. Corey Pursimon rammed his neighbor Roger Schultz so hard, the farmer fell, knocking Martha over in the process.
“You lying bastard, you ruined my fields!”
“Unhand my wife!” Amos cried as Martha struggled to right herself.
I lost sight of the Elder as he forced his way into the crowd, but suddenly his walking stick swung free and smacked Winthrop Mullins on the side of his head. Red rivulets raced down the boy’s face, and he released a string of curses, diving after Amos.
“You have to stop this,” I said, whirling around to the parson. He’d made his way to behind the lectern, watching in horror at the chaos he’d created. I grabbed his arm, shaking him. “Parson Briard—we have to stop this! People are getting hurt!”
“Sometimes you have to burn a field black before new roots can grow,” he murmured. Slowly his eyes drifted back to me. They were vaguely out of focus, as if he wasn’t truly seeing me beside him. “You said it was going to be tumultuous, but I had no idea it would be so beautiful.”
His words rang wrong, like a guitar out of tune. “I didn’t say that. I didn’t say anything like…”