“Who killed her husband?” “Go and nurse him, missus!” “Murderess!” Anna looked from left to right. But in between these wider phases of comparative confidence were gaps of disconcerting doubt, when the universe was presented as making sinister and threatening faces at her, defying her to defy, preparing a humiliating and shameful overthrow. It hadn’t even been called Kentucky back then when the Shawnee still hunted deer over mossy hills and the smoke from their fires could still inspire terror. ‘Yes, like you,’ she snapped, with a venomous glance, her role evidently forgotten for the moment. ’ She let out a peal of laughter.
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