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needed. And as for everyone else, “
A soft answer turneth away wrath
.” Mary always seemed to have a verse ready for any and every occasion, and Katherine had found herself beginning to fall into the same habit.
    She smoothed the front of her green floral print dress and adjusted her bonnet. Squaring her shoulders, Katherine walked briskly up to the door of the post office, determined to be as nice as possible to whomever she encountered.
    Entering, she saw that May, Ruth Decker’s oldest daughter, was behind the counter. The girl was a little younger than Katherine and looked at her with wide eyes.
    “Good morning, Miss Decker,” Katherine said in her kindest, sweetest voice.
    The girl nodded.
    “Is there any mail for Mrs. O’Neal this morning?”
    May shook her head.
    “Well, thank you kindly.” Katherine turned away reluctantly. She was almost at the door when a small voice stopped her.
    “Are you going anywhere else in town today, Miss Wallace?”
    She looked around, surprised that May had actually spoken to her, and stared at the girl for a moment or two. “I have some shopping to do at your parents’ store,” she said finally. “Why?”
    The girl bit her lip and wrung her hands. “Folk are out of sorts today. You’d be better off heading home.”
    Katherine tilted her head and stared at the girl. “Whatever for? What’s happened?”
    “P-President Lincoln …,” May stammered. “They say … they say he’s dead.”
    Katherine could feel the blood rush from her face at the young woman’s words as she stared at her.
Oh Father, no! “How? When?
”
    “I don’t know. Pa got the message over the telegraph early this morning.”
    “Then I must speak with him.” Katherine turned to leave.
    “Oh Miss Wallace, you shouldn’t.”
    Ignoring May’s plea, Katherine left the post office and rounded the corner. She all but flew into Decker’s Dry Goods. A crowd of people had gathered, mostly men, but here and there a farmer’s wife stood sobbing into a handkerchief. Oblivious to all, she made her way to the counter behind which stood Mr. Decker. “Oh Mr. Decker,” she said breathlessly, “what has happened to the president?”
    Mr. Decker, a gray-haired man with a long face, gave her a stony look. “Why should you care, Miss Wallace? He wasn’t your president.”
    Katherine stood there for a moment, ready to protest with all her heart, until she noticed the dead silence in the room. She turned to see those gathered giving her hard, long stares. Catching sight of Elijah Carr, she felt her knees go weak.
    He glared at her. “You’d best be on your way.”
    “But the president …”
    “He’s not your concern, secesh!” Carr’s voice was loud and harsh.
    “There’s no need to speak to her like that, Elijah,” someone said from the rear of the store. “After all, Mrs. O’Neal trusts her.”
    “And I don’t,” Carr shot back. “For all we know, she knew the man who murdered President Lincoln.” He stepped forward and towered over Katherine. “Your pa owned one of those big fancy plantations. You were quite the Southern belle, I hear. You ever meet John Wilkes Booth?”
    Katherine felt the hair stand up on the back of her neck. She swallowed and began to stammer. “I—I …”
    “Not sayin’, eh? Well, maybe you’ll be able to tell the county sheriff.”
    “No,” she breathed. “I—I never knew him. I don’t want any trouble.” She backed away from Carr, and her eyes darted around the store.
    Near the back, she caught sight of Adele Stephens’s black dress. The young widow’s eyes were red, and she held a white handkerchief in her hand.
    Katherine stared at her and tears began to well. “I’m so sorry,” she muttered before leaving the store as quickly as she could.
    Her tears and the bright sunshine temporarily blinded her, which was why she all but ran over the young man walking down the boardwalk toward the store. She gave a little cry as strong arms grasped her own