DUCHESS TOOK TO HER BEDROOM for the next few days.
Dolly knew to give her time, space, room to breathe, despite the worry. She left her meals outside the door, checked in only once, to ask if she’d like help tending the gray that morning. Inside she found Duchess at her small desk, sunlight on her as she wrote.
Monday and Duchess walked into class with Thomas Noble.
“Did you finish?” he said.
“Yeah.”
It had been a free assignment, a report of their choosing. She watched kids stand at the front and speak of things so varied as Jefferson and football, summer vacation and how to track a whitetail.
When the teacher called her, Duchess walked to the front of the class, fixed her paper to the board and swallowed down her nerves. She shoved her hands deep in her pockets and stood before her family tree.
Complete.
She felt all the eyes on her as she glanced at Thomas Noble, who smiled and motioned for her to start.
Duchess cleared her throat, turned to the front and began.
She led with her father, the outlaw, Vincent King.