Free Words Spoken True by Ann H. Gabhart Page B

“The man has no regard for the sensibilities of his readers, else he wouldn’t print those shocking murder stories in his paper as if those poor unfortunate girls were ladies.”
    “Ladies or not, their deaths are distressing, and the police should do all they can to catch the murderer.” At last Adriane managed to ease her hand away from Stan’s. She felt quite confined enough simply being in the carriage with him without having to submit to him holding on to her.
    “Of course,” Stan agreed easily as he sat back in the seat and eyed her. “But even if the villain’s not caught, I doubt the fair young ladies of our town have any reason to worry in regard to their own safety. Garrett is merely trying to stir up fear among the population in an unseemly attempt to sell his newspapers.”
    “But there’s no way for anyone to know that for sure, is there?” She frowned a little. “I mean, about whether there will be another victim and who that might be.”
    “I suppose you’re right. Who could know that except the one responsible for the dreadful crimes?”
    The scene she’d seen that morning flashed through Adriane’s mind, and she couldn’t keep from shuddering.
    Stan scooted closer to her and slipped his arm around her shoulders. “My dear Adriane, you have nothing at all to be concerned about except looking beautiful for the announcement tonight. From now on, I will always be close by to protect you.”
    Adriane had barely stopped another shudder from shaking through her, and she had been completely unable to keep the panic from slipping back out into the open and flapping its wings of worry until it filled her mind.
    Ten minutes after Stan left her at the door, Adriane had on her old work dress and was downstairs in the shop proofing the galleys. The story of the latest murder was a calm repeat of the facts in the Herald with a quote from the mayor that everything possible was being done to track down the killer. The chief of police promised security would be stepped up all over the city and assured the good people of the community that they were safe.
    Her father’s editorial made no mention of the murders. Instead he expounded on the qualifications any voter needed in order to make an intelligent choice in an election. Colonel Storey’s letter attacked the Know Nothing party for its secretive ways and asked what possible reason a political party could have for keeping its aims and purposes unknown to the general public. The letter carried just the slightest hint that something illicit might be going on.
    Her father had fired off a response to her Colonel Storey letter, claiming it to be a sacred right of Americans to assemble as they pleased and to promote the good of the country in whatever manner the assemblage deemed best. She read his words with a slight smile.
This editor has attended some of the “secret” meetings our dear Colonel Storey refers to, and I can attest to my readers that the members of the Know Nothings, more correctly called the American Party, are simply working to preserve the special God-given freedoms to which all true Americans are entitled. Note that this editor speaks of true Americans. That means those men who were born here on our sacred soil and have fought and bled for the freedoms we hold so dear. I have to wonder how the good Colonel came by his military title. From his words it doesn’t seem as though he knows the value of serving his country.
    Her father had responded to her Colonel Storey letter just as she’d expected. In fact she could probably have written the words for him. Sometimes she did. She knew how he would think. She knew how her imaginary Colonel Storey would think. What she sometimes didn’t know was how she herself thought.
    The words in front of her eyes faded away as she remembered again the party that night. She couldn’t allow this to go any further. With a deep breath for courage, she stood up to go face her father. She could not marry