She lunged at the Deputy who, so surprised, stumbled first to the side and then lost his footing. He fell, and though he thrust out his arms, he could not break his fall. He landed with a thud. There was an instant snap and his leg stuck out at an angle from underneath him. Ruby scrambled behind him and grabbed his necktie, pulling it up behind his head.

“I got him, Lady Mae,” Ruby huffed.

Deputy Iverson’s feet kicked and his hands tore at his throat, but he could not get away. Lady Mae had dreamed easily of the how. But there she found herself and there was no needle, no iron through his skull. His face grew red then redder still. He kicked and tore at Ruby with his hands, but she grabbed them with one arm and pinned them to her side. Lady Mae stared into the Deputy’s eyes, which bulged and begged, and she did not look away.

Ain’t gonna let him live, Arbuckle.

Forgive your own self, my love.

“What do you want me to do?” Ruby called.

“Don’t let go,” Lady Mae said as she took one then two steps, wincing, her foot fire until she was nose to nose with Deputy Iverson. Ruby pressed all of her weight down onto the man, hoisted him up nearly off the scaffold. He cried out, but Lady Mae heard only the guttural longing for pity, a last attempt to save himself.

Lady Mae took her knife, the knife some resident had passed her, and knelt before the Deputy, his mouth open, his throat seizing and choking. If she let him, he’d suffocate out there on the scaffold in front of all the residents. Already they shouted, stomped their feet in the dust once again. Their roars filled Lady Mae’s ears like water, and she held on to the wave. Felt it deep in her bones like she had with Edith, that time on the telephone, on her back porch steps. It was a fury dark and pure.

“You took my mama.”

On her knees she whispered it, bent her body so that her lips were near his ear. She said it slowly, her voice pausing between each word. She did not have to push hard to pierce the flesh; it gave easily like the sandy bottom of a river. She pulled the knife back out and watched as the cut remained clean for a moment. Then the blood bubbled up and ran down his neck, breaking off and branching away.

“Arbuckle, too.”

She spoke louder, a rush of wind in his ears, her voice steady. Her left hand held his right ear at the lobe, and behind it she pushed the blade into his skin. His feet kicked, his body spasmed. He thrashed at her hands, but Ruby leaned over and grabbed his fingers, bent them back until he cried out. Bloody cricks became rivers, and the white of his collar turned dark.

“My life. Took my life from me.”