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Lou was staring at her, a strange look on her face.

“What?” Maggie shifted Emmy, who was wriggling to get down.

“Nothing,” Lou said faintly. “Let’s go face the horde.”

Not having had many friends throughout her life aside from the boys, Maggie unprepared for the onslaught of camaraderie hitting her now. A veritable battalion of women—well, a small battalion of thirteen women—were crammed into Janey’s parlor, and the tenor of the gathering was ferocious enough to put Maggie on edge. The group was chattering over each other, growing more outraged as time passed, and Emmy appeared to have ascended to a higher level of existence: she clung to furniture, screeching loudly in agreement with everything, until Lou had to give her a biscuit to keep her occupied. She slumped in Maggie’s lap now, nibbling on her treat. Maggie kissed the top of her head and slung an arm around her middle to keep her secure.

“All right, all right,” Janey said loudly, clapping her hands loud enough to startle everyone into silence. “That’s enough grousing, we need a plan of action.”

“Do we really think this sort of pomp and circumstance is necessary?” Maggie asked for perhaps the fifth time since arriving at the Thursons’. Ned had taken one look at the gathering in his parlor before kissing Janey on the cheek and excusing himself for the afternoon, so they weren’t concerned about annoying him.

“It is,” Janey replied. “I’m not saying that Sam Myerson is a plague on this village, but if the pox wore a white collar, it would look like him.”

“Unnerving, how bold he’s become in such a short time,” Davina added, sitting ramrod straight in a chair and sipping from a flask of “medicinal libations” she had brought.

“He’s never been easy, but this is too far even for him,” Laura said. “He’s been a fly in the ointment of my family ever since Jake went on his Christ-finding mission. I won’t have him harassing the first decent dressmaker this town has ever had.” She let out a choking sound when Lou elbowed her in the ribs. “And, of course Maggie, dear, you’re very important to our family, dresses aside.”

Margie, whom Maggie had only ever heard say perhaps a total of half a dozen words, cleared her throat. “I have an idea. It’s a bit radical, but still not as radical as Louise’s initial idea of murder.”

“That was a joke,” Lou said, unconvincingly.

“Of course it was,” Janey said. “Go on, Margie.”

Margie licked her lips nervously. “Well, I thought that perhaps we could appeal to someone higher up in the church. My father is a deacon,” she added, “in Rydersville. He helps at the orphanage when he can, and I think he would be willing to, er, escalate the situation.”

“Why would he take a stance against a fellow clergyman?” Maggie was genuinely puzzled. She snuggled Emmy closer.

Margie paused, considering. “When the old pastor, Reverend Gillys, passed a few years ago, and Sam took over, he brought the church into a much more … hmm …”

“Old-fashioned,” Laura supplied.

“Yes,” Margie agreed. “Archaic direction. The denomination has always been a bit loose with rules, and Sam, I think, believed that he was doing us all a favor by tightening them up.”

“His parents never taught him to catch more flies with honey than vinegar,” Davina said dryly. “Dull, unpleasant man.”

“And my father,” Margie said, pride tinging her tone, “has always been a passionate crusader for equality.” She drew herself up. “He fought with the 14th regiment during the war.”

Maggie smiled. “That doesn’t mean that he won’t agree with Sam that we’re a pack of Satanic heathens.”

“I help Mr. Stinson some mornings, and am proud to associate with him,” Margie said, her color rising. “My father certainly knows that I am not a heathen.”

“Do you attend Sam’s services?” Laura asked.

Margie paused. “I’m not a heathen,” she repeated.

“I think you’ll find, Maggie,” Lou said, her arms crossed, “that one thing this church used to take very seriously was the concept of turning the other cheek. Margie, I would encourage you to inform your father. This has gone on long enough. Sam is a bully, and a coward, and I’m tired of it.” And Maggie knew this wasn’t just for her and Bridgers and Tom; that Lou was finally, in some way, shoving back against the shame that Sam had tried to impose on her.

Looking around the room at the women, she felt how fully focused they were on this task, and it occurred to her for perhaps the first time in her life that she had found people, besides her brothers, that she could rely on.

Theo opened his arms for his daughter, bussing her cheek and settling her on his hip, before reaching his freed one out for Maggie. She slid her arms around his waist as Lou breezed past, not even acknowledging her brother, to shut herself into her room. “Was your meeting all right?”

“Productive, I think,” Maggie said into his neck. “I believe we are going to attempt to shame him from above.”

“I have no idea what that means but it sounds like a wonderful plan.” He kissed the top of her head and she withdrew, stepping out of his arms. “Was Emmy good? Did she charm everyone?”

“Of course; she’s my talisman.”

Theo busied himself with fussing over his daughter, and Maggie drew in a deep breath.