JUSTICE WITHOUT A SPEECH
Roughly forty minutes later, the rumble returned.
The rest of the riders rolled back in.
Their leader stepped onto our porch holding something in his hand.
He opened his palm.
Margaret’s wedding band.
And our grocery money.
“They won’t be back,” he said quietly.
He offered no details.
He made no grand display.
He simply placed the ring in my hand.
Margaret wept as I slid it back onto her finger.
