Blackstone” I answered.“Geez, I’ve been trying to get hold of you for fifteen minutes!” John Robinson bellyached. “Where the fuck are you?�...“Delta Lodge, and if I get one more fucking phone call, I’m gonna spend the whole fucking day here, too. What can I do for you on this fine and shitty morning, Mr. Robinson?” I replied, the discomfort in my voice at being interrupted dripping from each and every word.“Seattle’s screaming for those wagons,” John informed me, “although I told them that. . or sometimes renting ... her out for the amusement of others. Of indifference, disbelief, and even hostility from her mother, her aunt, and everyone else she tried to tell. Of how, at long last, a classmate observed the bruises she tried so hard to hide and told a teacher. Of how that teacher finally managed to get the proper authorities involved, the cold bureaucratic efficiency of her removal from the only home and family — no matter how deranged — she’d ever known, and the successful but. More

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