Free The Seeker A Novel (R. B. Chesterton) by R. B. Chesterton

tell their side of the story. At any rate, allowing hysterical children to testify against helpless widows eventually backfired. When the children began accusing the rich, the trials were shut down.”
    She studied me openly. “You’re not from here, but you sure know a lot. Are you a teacher?”
    I shook my head. “Not yet.”
    “You have a funny accent.”
    I’d tried to eradicate backwoods Kentucky from my diction, but not as successfully as I’d hoped. My “hick” accent had made me a target in boarding school and even into my undergraduate years. Reading aloud in class was comparable to taking a beating.
    Now, I didn’t care. My accent, though diluted by years of Massachusetts, was a point of pride. Perhaps I’d go back to a good school in the South. Emerson or Duke or Tulane in the City that Care Forgot. Anywhere but Kentucky.
    “I’m from Harlan County, Kentucky,” I said with a rural twang.
    “But you’re smart.” She covered her mouth with her hand. “Sorry, that came out wrong.”
    “No need to apologize for falling victim to a stereotype.” I’d become immune to people’s accidental cruelty.
    “Try the dress on.” She’d wisely moved to a new topic.
    I slipped it from the rack, held it up to my chest, and stared at my image in the tri-fold mirror. If I put it on, I’d have to own it. The dress was that gorgeous. Better to walk away now. I had no occasion for such elegance.
    “You won’t know if you don’t try it on. I might see my way clear to marking it down another twenty percent.”
    The dressing room was large, with a chair and three mirrors. My fingers slowly worked the pearl buttons, and soon the dress floated down over my head. I stepped out to see how I moved in it.
    “It’s perfect.” Awe inflected the clerk’s tone. “As if it were made for you.”
    The mirror agreed. Nothing I’d ever worn had shown my hair, skin, eyes, and figure to better advantage. “I’ll take it.”
    How I would pay my credit card bill at the end of the month was another matter, but when I left the shop, the dress was in a box under my arm.
    I window-shopped at the hardware store and the pharmacy, where Christmas ornaments had already nudged Thanksgiving aside.
    “Hey! Hey, you! Bitch!”
    I turned to see Karla striding toward me. She wore black tights, high-heeled boots, and a purple coat with fake purple fur around the hood. I assumed she wore a skirt of some kind, but I couldn’t swear to it. Micro-mini?
    I ignored her and moved down to a florist’s window, all a-dazzle with glittery red, green, and white sparkling bows and red and white poinsettias.
    “Bitch, don’t walk away when I’m calling you.”
    I didn’t want to, but I faced her. She was alone, and I couldn’t think of a single thing to say.
    “So you’re the one Joe has taken up with.”
    “You should speak to him.” I did an about-face and started walking.
    She caught up to me and gripped my upper arm with enough strength to bite through my thick jacket. “If I wanted to talk to Joe, I’d be in his face. I’m speaking to you. It’s a pretty simple message. Stay away from him.”
    “Or what?” I wrenched loose and put my packages down at my feet. Anger simmered, a silvery liquid coursing through my body. I hadn’t grown up with brothers, but I’d had cousins, and I’d learned to protect myself. Fighting was a survival tool.
    “I’ll kick your ass back to whatever redneck place you came from.” Karla clenched her fists.
    “Give it your best shot.” I spoke softly, a deceptive tactic my cousin Wally taught me in grade school. Lure them closer, then cut loose.
    “You daring me?” Karla was smart enough to be wary. She’d expected me to run.
    “Yeah. I am. You want to start shit with me, bring it on. Right now.” I hadn’t been in a fight since my first year at boarding school. The girl who’d jumped me went home and never came back. She had to be fitted for a bridge.
    Karla edged sideways instead of