The School Marm
*by Winslow Parker and Joan Myles*
“First, you must tell me why I should not call you ‘Birdie’”
“Well, it’s a long….” Began her aunt. She was interrupted by curses, the sound of galloping horses, then a single pistol shot.
“Oh, my goodness!” cried Mrs. Krane. She rushed to the front window and stared in disbelief. “Oh, Jonathan !” she wailed, opened the front door and rushed out.
Lucy moved through the door, quickly assessing the tableau. None but Mrs. Krane moved. Within the half-circle of mounted horsemen, Reverend Krane lay face down in the dust of the street. Blood pumped from a hole in his back.
Beatrice released her apron, folded it three times and pressed it against the wound. She could feel no breath, no pulse.
When she regained her own breath, she demanded, “What happened? Who did this?”
The horsemen, in unison…