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“Emma Johnson, you must surely grieve your ma and pa.” The man who gripped Emma by the ear had started his rant at the park and continued as he practically dragged her several blocks. Once they stood in front of the jail, he seemed to have reached the end of his tirade.

“You’re hurting me, Mr. Gibbons!” Emma let out a howl of protest just as a uniformed police officer stepped from the building.

He eyed them with grave concern. “What’s going on?”

“She stole liquor from me,” Mr. Gibbons offered up, pushing Emma toward the man. “I want her dealt with.”

“Hank, she’s just a kid.”

“Edward Vogel, are you going to do your job or not?”

Emma watched as Mr. Vogel seemed to think about the question.

She let out another wail and tried to break away from the older man.

He had a firm grip on her ear, however, and she had no choice but to settle down.

It already felt like he was about to rip her ear right off her head and take a handful of hair with it.

Mr. Vogel reached out and took hold of Emma’s arm. “I’ve got her now, Hank. Just let her go.”

“You’d better have a firm grip. She’s a wildcat.”

“I’ve got her.” He tightened his hold on Emma’s upper arm. “Now, Emma, tell me what’s going on. Did you steal from Mr. Gibbons?”

Emma knew better than to lie. “I didn’t want to. It wasn’t for me.”

“That doesn’t answer my question, Emma. Did you steal liquor from Mr. Gibbons?”

“It was whiskey,” Mr. Gibbons said. “Two of my best bottles.”

Mr. Vogel looked at her with the hint of a smile. He seemed to understand that she didn’t really want to be bad, but her friends—well, really her brother’s friends—had dared her to do it, and Emma was always up for a challenge.

“Did you steal them, Emma?”

She lowered her head and glanced up. She’d found this look quite effective. Giving what she hoped was her saddest, most regretful expression, she nodded.

“I’m really sorry. I didn’t want them for myself.”

Mr. Gibbons made a huffing sound. She wasn’t sure what he meant by it. Could be his way of disapproving, or he may have just swallowed a fly. There sure were a lot of flies this Fourth of July.

“Well, let’s go inside. Hank, you’ll have to sign a formal complaint. Emma, I’m going to have to lock you up.”

“In a cell?” All at once she was profoundly sorry for what she’d done. “I won’t do it again. I swear!”

“I don’t want her arrested, Deputy. I just want her folks to control her. If she’d gotten away with it, I’d be out ten dollars.”

Mr. Vogel continued to hold her fast but tipped back his hat with his free hand. “That’s some mighty expensive whiskey, Hank.”

“It was, at that. Fine Scottish whiskey. Old too. The longer it ages, the more expensive it is. Maybe just hold her and send for her parents. They need to know what she’s capable of.” The man turned to go. “I don’t mean to stir up a hornet’s nest, but young’uns like that need to be taken in hand.”

“Old coot,” Emma muttered under her breath.

“What was that?” the deputy asked.

She gave a sigh and gazed upward at the man once more. “Nothing. I’m just upset.”

“I’ll bet you are.” He chuckled, only serving to further Emma’s frustration.

To make matters worse, Connor Caffrey, her brother’s best friend, happened to walk by just then. Emma silently wished the earth would swallow her whole.

“Emma Johnson, as I live and breathe,” the young man declared, sounding more than a little bit sarcastic.

“Connor, I need you to do me a favor.” Edward Vogel’s grip remained firm.

“Anything at all, Officer. I’m always happy to help the law.”

“Yeah, I can imagine you are. Emma, where are your folks?”

“At the picnic. They were visiting with the Aldrich and Taylor families by the bandstand.”

“Connor, go tell the Johnsons that I need to speak with them right away.”

“Sure thing!”

He sounded more than a little eager to get Emma in trouble, and she threw him a glare that she hoped gave him a pang of conscience. After all, he would have been first to sample the wares had she gotten away with her thievery.

“Oh, and don’t make it a public ordeal. Understand? Just tell them in private and ask them to come see me at the jail.”

“I understand.”

Connor’s tone was rather deflated, but Emma had no doubt he’d enjoy his duties. Connor and her brother, James, were seventeen and loved nothing more than seeing her in trouble. And if not her, then someone else. Just as long as it wasn’t one of them.

“Get to it, then, Connor.” Mr. Vogel turned, pulling Emma along with him into the jailhouse.

Emma couldn’t help but gawk around the place. She’d never been in the jail before, although she had heard terrible tales from her brother and his friends about it. James had never been taken to jail. In fact, as far as Emma knew, no one in her family had ever been in trouble with the law.

Leave it to me to be the first.

She regretted the honor, if it could be called that. Consequences were usually far less pleasurable than the hoped-for rewards when nefarious deeds were done.

“I want you to sit in that chair and not move. Do you understand me?” Mr. Vogel said, pointing to a round-backed, wooden chair. “I don’t want to have to put you in a cell.”

Emma swallowed the dry lump in her throat and nodded. Now that her folks had been sent for, there was no getting out of whatever punishment was headed her way.

She plopped into the chair in a most unladylike fashion and stared at Mr. Vogel as he took a seat behind a small wooden desk opposite her.

“Why’d you want to go and ruin such a great day by doing something like stealing liquor?”

Emma shrugged. “I get talked into a lot of things, and it didn’t seem like it would be all that hard. Mr. Gibbons was busy with his customers, and I’m not so big as to be noticed.”

“Big enough, apparently.”

Emma gave a sad nod. “It would seem so. I really don’t set out to be bad.”

“Oh, Emma, you aren’t bad. You just make bad choices sometimes.”

She heard sympathy and kindness in his tone and knew she could use it to her advantage. She continued to nod. “I do. It’s true. I try to be good. I really do.”

He chuckled. “I was a boy once. I remember very well how hard it was to behave. I was probably twice as rowdy as you. I will say, however, I’ve never had to take a young lady into custody.

I expect this kind of behavior from the boys, but honestly, it comes as a surprise to hear that a girl like you was stealing whiskey. ”

Emma lowered her head in a dejected manner.

Putting her hand up to cover her face, she poked a finger into her eye to create tears.

It had been most effective a few months earlier when the cook caught her stealing cookies.

She felt her eyes water sufficiently and glanced up with a sniff. “I’m just as sorry as I can be.”

Mr. Vogel smiled. “Well, don’t get too riled up. Your folks seem like decent people, and once they realize that you were encouraged to do it, I’m sure they’ll understand.”

Emma dabbed at her eyes with the back of her sleeve. “They are good people. It’s not their fault that I do bad things.”

That was probably the first time she’d really spoken the truth that day. Her folks didn’t deserve the blame for her actions. Emma had always been a wild card. She was born the day after the War between the States started. Her father had once joked that she started her own kind of war as well.

But how could the fault be assigned to her?

If she had been out of control since coming into the world, wasn’t that more or less the fault of someone else?

She couldn’t help it if she was easily bored and fixed on the idea of having a good time.

She liked to take a dare and thrilled at the excitement that followed.

It was just how she was created. How was that her fault?

She sniffed again for good effect and waited a few more minutes in silence.

Down the street, she could hear the band playing a march.

How she wished she were at the picnic instead of sitting in the jail.

In fact, she wished she could be just about any place else but here, waiting for her parents to come and show their disappointment in her once again.

It wasn’t that she didn’t want to be good. She had tried, but it grieved her. There was no fun to be had in being good, and she wanted to have fun. A lot of fun. Mama said it was unnatural the way she was constantly looking for a good time.

“Life is full of responsibilities and tasks that must be done,” her mother often said. “Good times are the reward for the hard times of work.”

Emma recalled just a few weeks back when her mother had declared that once again, and Emma’s response had perfectly summed up her thoughts. “ I don’t want to have responsibilities and tasks that must be done. I can hire someone to see to that. I just want to enjoy my life and the good times.”

Mother had just shaken her head. “That would be nice, I suppose, but not at all in the plan for us. Since Adam and Eve sinned in the garden, we have been tasked with hard work. Even before that, Adam was given the job of seeing to the animals and garden. And now we have responsibilities to see to our various roles of work. Believe me when I say it makes the rewards all the more enjoyable.”

But Emma didn’t see it that way at all.

She heard footsteps on the boardwalk outside, and the door opened to admit her parents. She glanced up and saw her mother’s reproving glance while her father looked to Mr. Vogel.

“Edward, good to see you again. Sorry for the circumstances.”

They shook hands, and only then did Papa turn and look at Emma. “What’d she get caught doing?”

“Stealing whiskey.”

“What!” Mama’s tone was one of complete shock. Emma felt bad for having upset her. Genuinely bad. She didn’t want to hurt either one of them.

“Emma, why don’t you explain yourself? Why were you trying to steal anything, much less whiskey?”