As the man who had ridden into town with Billy only that morning—a fact observed by quite a few of the rioters—my own position was far from secure. The crowd meant to hang somebody, and promptly; if Tully and the deputies stood firm, the men with the ropes might decide I was a less expensive alternative, in which case Orson Oxx and all my other heroes would very likely fling no more giant crocodiles off the cliffs of Mobile Bay.

Then into that maelstrom of incipient riot, Sister Blandina came riding on a poky little donkey. I rushed out of the saloon the minute I saw her, and all but embraced her on the street.

“Sister, I’m extremely glad to see you!” I said, though at that point I had no conviction she could really save Billy. I suppose I just hoped she could save me.

Sister Blandina did not seem particularly surprised to find a mob in the streets of Lincoln, waving lariat ropes and trying to cut down trees.

“Hello, Mr. Sippy,” she said, stepping off her donkey. “What a ruckus you’re having to put up with.”

“Yes, and it may get worse,” I said.

Sister Blandina looked angry. She was as light of foot as ever, and clearly not pleased by the spectacle of public disorder.

“I do think these weeks when the court’s in session have a bad effect on people,” she said. “Don’t you agree, Mr. Sippy?”

“It’s not having a good effect on these people,” I agreed.

“Well, it never does, Ben—it never does,” Sister Blandina said. “I’ll be glad when we get some theaters here in the Territory. I believe if the citizens had more access to plays they might not carry on this way. But in far too many cases I guess courtroom theater is the only kind they ever see.”

“This play may not even make it to the courtroom,” I said.

“What happened?” she asked.

“Billy Bone shot two men—I don’t know why,” I said. “He’s barricaded in the hardware store—Tully and the deputies have him safe for now.”

“Why, they’ll kick that hardware store to kindling in no time!” Sister Blandina said. “I’d better just help them get him to the jail.”

She started across the street briskly, then turned to look at me.

“Did he just shoot them down?” she asked.

“More or less,” I said. “I was inside eating and didn’t see it. They may have offered him some insult, but it couldn’t have amounted to much.”

“Poor violent soul,” she said. “Will you come with me, Ben?”