Free Wonderland Creek by Lynn Austin Page A

rifle was. I had stared at the gun rack hanging on the bedroom wall all night, hoping I wouldn’t need to use it myself.
    Lillie and I traded places again, and I went upstairs while she began wrapping up Mack like a mummy. My hands trembled so badly I could barely lift down the heavy rifle. I had never held one in my life. I carried it downstairs as if it might go off in my hands. If Lillie told me to point it at somebody, I would faint dead away.
    “Here it is,” I told her, “but I—”
    “Listen to me, girl.” She took it from me and laid it by Mack’s side. “Cora and the others will be coming to work soon. We gonna tell them Mack went out hunting this morning and had a accident.”
    “You want me to lie ?”
    “No, I want you to keep your trap shut and don’t say a word. Understand?”
    I nodded vigorously. Lillie might be twig-thin, but she looked as though she knew how to use the rifle. In fact, I nodded so hard it’s a wonder my head didn’t come loose.
    “In the meantime, we’re keeping the gun handy in case the shooter comes back to finish the job.”
    I continued to nod, but she may as well have been talking gibberish.
    I was still sitting in a daze beside Mack and Lillie when the other librarians arrived. They halted in shock at the sight of Mack lying in the foyer, a bloodied mess.
    “What happened, Miss Lillie?”
    “Hunting accident.”
    “Oh, Mack!”
    “Is he going to be all right?”
    “Don’t know yet. He lost a lot a blood. He might of got home too late.”
    The women wept, prayed, held Mack’s hands. Three of them went upstairs and hauled down the mattress from his bed—my bed—and gently lifted him onto it. The shock and pain from being moved made Mack moan, then pass out again.
    “What can we do, Miss Lillie?” they all asked. “Give us something to do.”
    “Not much you can do. He’s in the Lord’s hands now. You all just go about your work like you always do. People waiting for their books, ain’t they? Tell the believing ones to be praying for Mack. Then we just have to wait and see.”
    “Isn’t there some way we can help?”
    Lillie gestured to me. “New girl says she’ll help out.”
    All four of them eyed me dubiously. Cora spoke for the group. “Are you sure you don’t want us to stay with you, Miss Lillie?”
    “President Roosevelt’s paying you to work, ain’t he?”
    “Yes, ma’am.”
    “Then you best get working.”
    Everyone hugged Lillie, consoling her. I heard one of them say, “Poor Lillie. You’ve lived through so much already, and now this?”
    By the time the librarians loaded the books on their horses and rode away, Lillie looked exhausted. I remembered that she had been sick. “Are you all right?” I asked her. “Do you want me to help you upstairs to bed?”
    “No, I need to stay here beside Mack. You can get me a chair to set on, though.” I dragged over an armchair from the non-fiction section, and Lillie sank onto it with a sigh. “He ain’t outta the woods, you know. Next few days are the most important.”
    I nodded. I had no idea what to say. Lillie studied me as if she still wasn’t quite sure who I was and what I was doing here. I wasn’t entirely certain myself.
    “You know how to cook?” she finally asked.
    I started to say yes, then recalled how Mother had banished me from the kitchen after setting fire to it. “Not very well, I’m afraid.”
    “Well, I ain’t strong enough to wait on all of us, so you better get on out there and do the best you can.”
    “Yes, ma’am.” First I would have to wash all the blood off my hands. If the stains on my clothes didn’t come out, I would have to throw them away. Mother would scold me for my wastefulness: Don’t you know this country is in an economic depression? And how could I reply? I’m sorry, but someone tried to kill the librarian, and he bled all over me. No one would believe it.
    I walked out to the tacked-on kitchen to clean up and make breakfast. I would