by Mona Gallagher

Created on: October 28, 2007

Her hair was wild and unkempt as the wind blew it across her face. She was a loner and they said she was crazy. The towns folk laughed behind her back as she strode through the open marketplace. She heard their undisguised whispers each time she passed this way.

She straightened her shoulders, lifted her head and continued on her way.

A little child, prodded by his mother, threw a ripe tomato at her. It spattered at her feet. She raised her skirt and side stepped the mess on the sidewalk. The street market patrons snickered and turned their heads to look at her. The child stepped behind his mother.

From a pub across the street, a stranger watched the scene. He seemed fascinated by the behavior of the villagers. The bar keep took his order and the stranger remarked, "She walks like royalty among peasants."

"Aye," returned the barkeeper glancing out the window, "she has delusions."

"Why do they treat her so...cruel?" The stranger asked.

"She's a strange woman, keeps to herself and has no friends, but it's just for sport man," the barkeep answered, "the citizens laugh at her, but they'd do her no real harm. She's good for a laugh and a bit of gossip for the locals, you see."

The stranger raised his glass of Guiness and drank deeply. He watched the woman disappear around the corner and turned his eyes back to the street market.

A merchant came out with a bucket and mop.

Tony Bartello picked up the mess and glared at the people milling through the market.

"That's a fine way to teach a child," he muttered.

Several reproachful remarks were thrown in his direction. He heard some say he ought to watch who he showed favor or they might have to find another tailor. He paid them no mind. There wasn't another tailor in the region within two hundred miles.

"Who is he?" the stranger asked.

The bartender looked out the window, and frowned. "That's Tony. He's the tailor and sometime cobbler. He sews clothes and shoes. He's a foreigner.

"so...your little town accepts foreigners, but not strange people then?"

The bar keep, Dolan, hitched up his trousers and folded his arms over his chest before he said, "Look mister, you're a stranger in town. We don't accept you either, but we'll tolerate you for a few days. We stick together and keep a peaceful town."

He went on to say, "Now, Tony, ain't well liked, but he's accepted because he has something to give to the community. That woman, Whitman, ain't accepted, because she's crazy and don't have nothing to give. I think that's clear enough for you

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