by Darrell Case
Chapter 5
Victoria's face burned with horror and indignation. Gasping, her hand flew to cover her mouth. The room whirled around her. She felt like she was going to faint. To be accused of something as vile as beating a child was inconceivable. Her eyes swept the room for a friendly face but she saw only heads shaking and whispers as all eyes turned to her. She shivered, wrapping her arms around herself.
After calling for order, Anderson was speaking. Victoria forced herself to focus on what he was saying.
"Miss Winters, you've heard the accusations against you. Do you have anything to add before we make our decision?"
Her legs shaking, Victoria started to the front of the room. Stopping halfway, she groped for the back of a nearby student's desk to steady herself. Her fingers touched cloth. The occupant of the chair, the Banks' nine-year-old son Andy, bolted from the chair as if she had placed a hot poker on his neck. He ran to his mother and clung to her dress. The woman glared at her with hatred. Anderson eyed Victoria suspiciously. She gripped the back of the chair, her knuckles turning white.
"I . . ." she stammered, blinking back tears. She tried again, her voice coming out an octave higher. "I ...I can't believe you would . . . I love my students."
"That's why she beats 'em," a male voice said behind her. A titter ran through the crowd. Her eyes sought out Billy Hayman.
"Billy, who really beat you? Don't be afraid. You can tell me," Victoria said.
Billy looked at Whitey standing with Rudy and George by the stove. Victoria saw him look in their direction. Until Billy, Whitey was the only student she had to punish. On two different occasions, she had caught him trying to peek into the girl's outhouse.
Tears came into Billy's eyes, he loved Miss Winters. Surely Whitey couldn't do anything if he told on him in front of all these people. He opened his mouth to speak.
"Ain't ye done enough?" Jenny Hayman said, pushing Billy behind her.
"All I want to do is clear up the confusion." Victoria said. "It wasn't me who whipped you, was it? Come on Billy, tell the truth. I'm not mad at you."
"My Billy don't lie. Iffen he said you whipped him, you did it!" Owen Hayman bristled, starting for Victoria.
"Now simmer down, Owen," Anderson said, "We'll handle this."
Hayman backed off and joined his wife and son at the rear of the schoolroom. Fred Morgan stood to his feet and cleared his throat. Victoria relaxed. Here at last was a friendly face. But he wasn't smiling. His next words chilled her to the bone.
"While Miss Winters' actions were appalling I don't believe it would be in the best interest of this poor child or town to go through a trial. I propose we dismiss her and send her back to Chicago on the next train."
"Train don't come through till Saturday," Jenny Hayman said. "That's two days from now. Where we gonna keep her till then?"
"You can't leave her runnin' loose," Owen joined in.
"I got plenty of room in the hoosegow," Maples said smiling. His eyes told Victoria he had more in mind than just keeping her locked up.
There was a general murmur of approval.
"All in favor, raise your right hand," Anderson said.
His eyes resting on Victoria, Fred's hand went in the air; others followed suit.
"Miss Winters, you are hereby relieved of your duties as teacher of Pottsville School," Anderson said. "You will be held in jail until Saturday afternoon at which time you will be put on the train to Chicago. This meeting is adjourned."
The crowd surged forward; hands pushed Victoria out the door around the building. They shoved her into the small living quarters. She had been thrilled to call this room home the last few months. Now it seemed so pitiful. Hands tore her handmade decorations off the walls and threw them to the floor to be trampled underfoot. A rail-thin man in the garb of a farmer threw her carpetbag on the bed.
A woman she had called a friend ripped her two dresses off a nail. Balling them up, she stuffed the torn clothing in the bag. Fred's mother dumped the contents of the broken-down chest out on the floor. Victoria watched in dismay as her mother's broach rolled across the bare boards. Snatching it up, Victoria lovingly placed it in the pocket of her coat.
"These ain't even good enough for rags," another woman shouted. She held up a ragged pair of Victoria's pantaloons for inspection by the crowd. The display was greeted with a mixture of hoots and laughter.
Victoria's embarrassment and anger deepened as the woman tossed piece after piece of her tattered clothing into the corner of the room. She tried to push her way through to retrieve her under garments. Otto Sanders, Whitey's father, blocked her way, thrusting her bag in her arms.
"Leave 'em be. We can use them rags to clean the room," he replied with a smirk.
"I must have my clothing," Victoria said in tears, stomping her feet.
He retreated.
"You gonna wear those garments with holes in 'em?" he said laughing.
"They are all I have," she sobbed, scooping up the articles and stuffing them in her worn bag. The clasp had broken on the train to Pottsville. Holding it closed, she stood to her feet. She walked unsteadily toward the schoolroom but Fred Morgan blocked the door.
"Excuse me?" she said, not daring to look him in the face.
Unmoving, he held out his hand. Realization slowly dawned on her. Setting her bag on the floor, she slowly worked the beautiful diamond ring off her finger. Tears dripping down her chin, she handed him a piece of her heart. Snatching it, Fred shoved the ring deep in his vest pocket. Silently he moved aside allowing her to pass.
Waiting for her in the classroom, Maples jerked the bag out her hands. Grasping her upper arm, he dragged her out into the deepening snow.
"Ow, you're hurting my arm. Please let go."
Ignoring her, the constable increased the pressure. Holding her dress up with her other hand, Victoria fairly ran to keep up. Sharp pains shot through her arm from wrist to shoulder.
Maples was only a rehabilitated town drunk rescued by Anderson so that he could have a handle on the law but he found taking the banker's orders very profitable. The job didn't pay well but Anderson and the others kept his coffers filled. Their only requirement was that he stay away from alcohol. He solved the problem by making his own corn whiskey.
Hauling Victoria into the jail, Maples wrenched open the door to the single cell.
"How ye like them apples?" he said, hurling her inside. "Ye ain't no fancy school teacher anymore. You're just a jail bird."
Stumbling on the hard, packed earth, Victoria cried out as she hit her head on the edge of the wooden bunk. The cell smelled of old urine.
Maples laughed and slammed the door. The clank of the lock echoed against the walls. Crawling onto the bunk, Victoria rubbed her arm. She curled up into a ball. If only she could just disappear. She pulled her dress up, exposing her shoes.
Standing at the bars watching her, Maples gave a low whistle.
"Iffen you ever escaped, we'd never catch ye with those snowshoes on your feet."
Victoria buried her face against the wall. Hearing the front door open, then close, the sound of heavy tread on the boardwalk told her Maples was gone. She moaned, her tears wetting the single blanket. She had given them her best. She had treated their children with love and respect and they had rewarded her with cruelty. Lying on the hard bunk for what seemed like hours, she finally fell asleep.
She awoke
to rough hands touching her intimately. Sunlight streamed in the single-barred window filling the jail with light. Victoria started to scream but Maples clamped his other hand over her mouth.
"Be good to me, missie, and I might let you escape," he hissed in her ear. He pushed her down on the bunk, crushing her with his weight. The smell of sour mash whiskey was overpowering. Victoria beat his barrel chest with her small fist.
"Go ahead, missie, I like it when they fight," he said. The sound was low and guttural like the growling of a wild animal.
Terror shot through Victoria; she knew she was in trouble and there was no one to save her. This big, overweight brutal man was going to rape her.
"Lord, please help me!" she prayed, her strength waning.
He reached down to lift her dress. Suddenly, somehow Maples was lifted up from the bunk and hurled through the air in an instant and then dropped. His body slammed against the dirt floor. He rose slowly, shaking his head, looking confused.
"What'd you do to me?" he said. He screamed and came at her again; again with the same result.
Springing from the floor like a man twenty years younger, he slammed and locked the cell door. Victoria sat up, shivering and shaking with fear, yet relieved.
"You're a witch, that's what ye are!" he screamed, his mustache bobbing up and down. "I'm supposed to give ye breakfast, but I ain't feeding no witch, no sirree."
Victoria's stomach lurched; even the thought of food made her sick.
"Ye just wait, missie. This ain't over, not by a long shot!" Hitching up his trousers and cinching his belt, Maples left the building.
RIVER OF FIRE