It was the
law of the land--why find fault with it?
I leaned closer so that I could touch her hand if need be.
"What's your name?"
"Samanthy North."
"What's your husband's name?"
"His name's North." There was a trace of surprise now in the general
monotone Then she added, as if to leave no doubt in my mind,
"Leslie North."
"Where is he?" I determined now to round up every fact.
"He's home. We've got another child, and he's takin' care of it till I
git back. He'd be to the railroad for me if he knowed I was coming; but
I couldn't tell him when to start 'cause I didn't know how long
they'd keep me."
"Is your home near the railroad?"
"No, it's thirty-six miles furder."
"How will you get from the railroad?"
"Ain't no way 'cept walkin'."
I had it now, the whole damnable, pitiful story, every fact clear-cut to
the bone. I could see it all: the look of terror when the deputy woke
her from her sleep and laid his hand upon her; the parting with the
other child; the fright of the helpless husband; the midnight ride, she
hardly able to stand, the pitiful scrap of her own flesh and blood
tight in her arms; the procession to the jail, the men in front chained
together, she bringing up the rear, walking beside the last guard; the
first horrible night in jail, the walls falling upon her, the darkness
overwhelming her, the puny infant resting on her breast; the staring,
brutal faces when the dawn came, followed by the coarse jest.
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