“Ma?”

“What is it?”

“You ever think something different than the rest?”

“Such as what?”

“Don’t know. Just different. Being in there—back in the courthouse—there always that many residents waiting?”

“Not sure. Never been to an inquest. But I suppose so. Seems I’ve seen most everyone in the settlement at one time or another.” She sighed as she said it, shook her head just enough for Lady Mae to notice.

“Stands to reason if everyone knew what was in store they wouldn’t do nothing.”

“Reason ain’t got nothing to do with it.”

“What does, then?”

“Rage, jealousy. Sometimes love.”

“People do things for love?”

“Yes, I suppose they do. I’d do for you, Lady Mae.”

She looked at her mother with wide eyes. “You’d hurt someone for me?”

Her mother’s lips thinned, but she nodded. “In a heartbeat.”

“But you’re my ma. You got to say that.”

“Even still. I reckon most I see gone and done things either because they love too much or too little, or maybe ’cause they ain’t got no love themselves.” Her voice lowered and slowed as she spoke as if she, too, were realizing it for the first time.

“Can you tell when they’re in the chair which it is?”

Her mother looked over her shoulder. Speculation was against the law. It was written right there in the declaration all residents had hanging on a wall in their shacks. The Deputies said assumption led to nothing but hearsay and bedlam, though in Lady Mae’s experience the rumors were almost always true in the end.

The road was empty, though, and so her mother said in a low whisper to her daughter, “Sometimes. Sometimes the residents tell me. They ain’t supposed to, but they do.”

“What do they say?”

“What they done, how it made them feel. Most just want to be heard, want to feel justified.”

“What do you say?”

“It’s not always—” she began and then stopped and cleared her throat. Up ahead a woman stepped off her porch and walked toward them. Her mother remained silent until the woman passed and was well out of earshot.

“I listen. Then I tell them what I think they need to hear. Sometimes they just need someone on their side.”

“And you’re allowed to do that?” Lady Mae could not believe what her mother was telling her, and she assumed it was because of the telegram. Perhaps her mother figured there was no use keeping anything from her daughter anymore. But still, the thought of the residents searching for consolation from the very person tasked with punishing them seemed to Lady Mae unfathomable.

“Sure. I aim to give just as much as I take away.”

“So what they really need is a friend? Someone to listen to them?”

“I guess you could see it that way.”

“What if the Deputies got it backward? Maybe they ought to—”

“Be mindful, girl,” interrupted her mother, and Lady Mae fell silent. The two of them looked up and down the crescent road, but they were far from any other residents. “You know you ain’t allowed to question. Even if I’m the one you’re asking.”