“No, they won’t. Not if you don’t do nothing. You’re of age—I can’t step in for you like I used to.”

“Don’t need you to step in.”

From where Lady Mae stood, even in the dim light of the kitchen, she could see the weariness. Her mother was tired, and it wasn’t just because of her work. “Well,” she said. “They should be punished. That’s what the laws are for—what good are they if no one uses them when they ought to?”

Lady Mae stared at her hands, felt the sick in her throat. “They hate me, Mama.”

“They don’t hate you. They just don’t understand yet. They will. Here, take these,” she said, and Lady Mae reached down for her mother’s boots, the tips of which were long-stained red. Her mother stroked her daughter’s hair, tucked pieces behind her ears.

“My child. Remember: everyone’s got their lot. And there ain’t no changing it for no one. That’s the way it is, the way it’s been for—for as long as anyone can remember I reckon. Me, my own mama, my grandmother, and her mother before. Before that, well, they say there was nothing but chaos—all them people running around ain’t having to answer to nobody. Doing whatever they felt, no matter which way it went. But now, well, they figured it out, I suppose. Someone’s got to mind the animals, and someone’s got to mind the shops, and someone’s got to mind the guilty. We all got a job to do. Yours—what yours will be, anyway—ain’t any worse or better than anyone else’s.”

“But—”

“But nothing. I’m done coming home to you like this. I ain’t going to have it no more. You’re reporting them and that’s that.”

“No, Ma, just please, just let it pass, I promise—”

“Got no need for your promises. Just following the law is all. Did they strike you?”

“Aye.”

“Did they say blasphemous things?”

“Aye.”

“It’s done, then. I don’t want to hear nothing more about it. Go on and wash up. I’ll finish up supper.”

Her mother kissed Lady Mae on the forehead, pressing her dry lips softly onto the smooth skin of her daughter. She couldn’t be sure, but Lady Mae thought her mother held the kiss for longer than usual, that she had gripped her shoulders tighter as though if she didn’t, Lady Mae would slip from her grasp and float away. She hadn’t imagined it earlier: her mother was worried.

* * *

The courthouse tolled at nine o’clock and her mother aimed to be waiting on the steps at that time. They had risen and dressed and breakfasted. They had cleaned the coop and hung the wash out to dry in the hot summer air. And they had done all of it in a comfortable, quiet silence, moving slowly in the early heat of the day. The drought was nearing the fortieth day, and the bright blue skies promised nothing but another one, the sun beating and blazing down onto the dusty earth.