I sniff, because it seems to me that Redfern should be thanking his lucky stars some well-meaning white girl saved him rather than using her to prove his point about . . . what? I’m not sure what his argument is exactly.
“Betsy was a hero,” I say.
“Exactly,” Redfern says, nodding. “Heroes die. But survivors live to tell the story. When the dead got to be too much for us to handle, most of those fools wanted to keep fighting, because that’s what we’d been taught. I was one of the first to cut and run. I knew what the score was. The things you’re taught are only useful if they keep you alive.”
I shake my head. “Daniel, I think you must have a very lonely life if the only person you care about saving is yourself.”
He shrugs. “Maybe. But I’m still alive, and most of Baltimore isn’t.”
His words wake a little voice that I’ve tried to ignore for a very long time. It’s the part of me that wonders what my life would be like right now if Jackson hadn’t asked me to go find his sister. The truth is, my momma would probably agree with the whole of what Daniel Redfern is saying. She was always quick to offer a helping hand to other folks, but never so much as to put our family at risk.
“It’s the American way,” she would say, watching from the porch as another family took up residence at Rose Hill. “You help as much as you can—but no more. You don’t think those founding fathers wrote all those pretty words about independence just to help the poor, do you? The books are right there in the library, Jane. They did it because they didn’t want to pay taxes, to have some king tell them the price of tea. And for that, they went to war, and hundreds of people died. If that ain’t capitalism, I don’t know what is.”
I love my momma, and I surely trust her more than I do any founding fathers I’ve never met. But I have to believe there’s more to life than just surviving.
“So, then, how is it a man who runs at the first sign of a threat to his own well-being ends up sheriff of Nicodemus?” I ask.
Daniel Redfern grimaces. “Sometimes, Jane, you do things because you don’t have a choice.”
And he saith unto them, Why are ye fearful, O ye of little faith? Then he arose, and rebuked the winds and the sea; and there was a great calm.
—Matthew 8:26
—KATHERINE—
Chapter 18
Notes on the Follies of Science
Sue and I follow Miss Duncan as she wends her way through Nicodemus, leaving the more settled part of town for the animal pens and well-laid-out gardens. The stink of manure is a harsh greeting but it also makes me glad to know that there are some resources here inside of town. The plots of land we pass are well tended, and even though no one is minding the gardens as we pass, it is clear they will feed us for at least another couple of days.
“Might I ask just what it is you think Miss Duncan is about?” I say, adjusting my hat so that at least a bit of my face is shaded by the narrow brim. I am not vain, but with this much sun I am going to have a plethora of freckles running rampant on my nose, and that is bothersome.
“I don’t know. She’s been acting strangely ever since she took up with Sheriff Redfern.”
I frown. “Do you mean romantically?”
Sue gives me an incredulous look but does not slow her stride. “How else would I mean? They were all sorts of cozy on the trip out here, and they’ve spent an awful lot of time off on their own since arriving here. Ruthie even says she saw them kissing once, so if they ain’t romantic then they’re at least sinning something fierce.”
“Well, I think that is lovely,” I say.
Sue snorts a half laugh. “I didn’t say it wasn’t. But Redfern is a councilman, and he used to be Mayor Carr’s man as well. I don’t trust him, and neither should you.”
Sue is right, of course, but I say nothing and just follow along. We have come to the far edge of Nicodemus, and here the houses are smaller and more run-down than on the main road. Most are little more than shacks and look a stiff breeze away from collapsing in on themselves.
“This is where the white folks from Summerland stay,” Sue says, glancing at the open doorway of a house. A pale face stares back at us from the gloom. “Frankly, I ain’t quite sure how you and Jane survived there.”
“It was a trial,” I murmur. This part of town makes me uneasy. We quicken our pace.
Sue suddenly halts, and I skid, barely avoiding running into her back. She ducks behind the side of a stable, pulling me along as well. Just up ahead, a line of white folks shout angrily, their words unintelligible as they talk over one another. Miss Duncan strides up to them.
“Folks, what seems to be the problem?” she asks, her voice carrying clearly through the day to where Sue and I crouch in the shadow cast by the stable.
A scrawny white woman in a blue bonnet steps forward. “That scientist never showed to give those injections the mayor promised, so we came to find him. But he said he doesn’t have any more!”
“You gave them to the Negroes, now you need to give them to us!” yells a short white man. A chorus of people shout agreement.
Miss Duncan holds her hands up for calm, just as I have seen her do a thousand times. “Folks, settle down. I am sure there will be enough serum for everyone. Let me go in and speak with Mr. Carr and see what seems to be the problem.”
She pushes past the crowd of people, and they part like the Red Sea. Miss Duncan raps on the door of the building. A very harried-looking Gideon opens it just enough to let her inside.
“If the colored folks hadn’t gotten stuck none of them would want to, either,” Sue says, her tone mild.
“Did you get an injection?” I ask.
Sue snickers. “I’ll take my chances with the dead.”
I nod in agreement. I like my chances with a pair of Mollies a great deal better.
Miss Duncan reappears and gives everyone a calm smile. “Thank you so much for your patience, and I have excellent news. Mr. Carr is distilling a new batch of serum as we speak. He assures me that it will be available after supper, so please feel free to come back then and he will see you.”
This settles the crowd somewhat, and people begin to wander off. Sue gestures for me to follow her. “Stay low, we don’t want Miss Duncan to know we were spying on her.”
“Sue, what are you not telling me?” I ask, once we are out of earshot. We head back toward the center of town to Gideon’s house. I still need to grab my Mollies, after all.
She glances at me askance. “What do you mean?”
“Miss Duncan. Why did you not want her to see us?”
Sue huffs out a breath and stops in a patch of shade, wiping her sleeve across the sweat glistening on her dark brow. She leans against the side of the building and gives me a direct look. “I don’t trust her. She’s been strange ever since Baltimore fell. Furtive, maybe a tad bit guilt-stricken. And not just on account of her getting romantic with Redfern. The way the school fell, well, it was odd. I woke to screams and the dead were already inside the walls. You know how things work, it never should have gone that way.”
“You think Miss Duncan fell asleep on her watch?”
Sue nods. “I think she would’ve left us all to die if she hadn’t needed help clearing out the dead. But she knew it was too much for her, so she came back to find us. I think all this time Miss Duncan ain’t been any better than the rest of them, just a bit nicer about hating us.”
I blink, a sensation like falling coming over me. “Not Miss Duncan, Sue. She would not have done that.” I have to believe there is at least one person in the world who gives a fig about me. Miss Duncan has always been kind and fair.
“Why not? Summerland was the plan for all of us all along, you and Jane just got an early introduction. You think Miss Duncan somehow was the only one at Miss Preston’s who didn’t know?”
I shake my head. “Just considering it is terrible.”
“Maybe. But you know firsthand that we weren’t nothing but lambs to be sent to the slaughter. Jus
t because they dressed us nice doesn’t change anything,” Sue says sadly. “Anyway, I’m going to find a spot to hide out until this heat passes. Come find me after supper, we’ll take a turn up on the wall and see about that horde.”
I nod, and Sue goes about her business, wending her way back through town. My heart is heavy as I enter Gideon’s house, the possibility of Miss Duncan’s duplicitous nature a weighty matter, and sprawled on the chaise like she owns the place is Jane McKeene.
“Hey there,” she says, grinning from ear to ear. “What’s a girl got to do to get a bath around here?”
My heart leaps with gladness to see her on the right side of iron bars. I should be happy that she is free, and I am. But I am also sorely vexed that the last time I saw her she treated me abysmally.
Even though I would like nothing more than to share with Jane the things I have learned over the past couple of days, to plot and plan like we did in Summerland, I give her the cut direct and make my way to my pantry to spend some time by myself, mulling over the events of the day.
Nothing emboldens sin so much as mercy.
—Shakespeare, Timon of Athens
—JANE—
Chapter 19
In Which I Get the Lay of the Land
I stretch languidly as I wake, enjoying my first day of freedom in a very, very long time.
Well, free from jail, anyway. There’s still the horde outside the Nicodemus gates, biding their time and waiting to get in.
After Sheriff Redfern set me free I was at a bit of a loss as to where to go. My acquaintances from the Summerland patrols were staying in a barn just outside the middle of town, and Miss Preston’s girls and the girls from Landishire Academy weren’t far off from there. But the Duchess and her girls were staying with Gideon, and even though I was vexed with the scientist for selling the town the scientific snake oil I figured this last option was the best one. After all, I wasn’t quite sure whether the fine white folks from Summerland would try lynching me again. I figured the last place they’d look for me would be in the house of the son of Abraham Carr.
Katherine came in a short while after my arrival, still quite a bit cross with me, but I had yet to see anyone else. The Duchess, Sallie, and Nessie all seemed to have disappeared. Even little Thomas was gone. Lily skulked past at one point, her glare nearly enough to set my clothes aflame, but there was no point in poking that hornet’s nest just yet. I’d talk to her eventually, but not when feelings were so raw.
I know when to leave well enough alone, even if it might not always seem like it.
I was most disappointed to realize Gideon was nowhere to be found. Even after our last conversation there was still a small part of me that thought I might be able to talk some sense into him. It didn’t even matter if he’d stuck half of the town with his silly serum. If I could just convince him to talk to the mayor about an evacuation plan, we might yet stand a chance. There was a time when the self-important bastard had listened to me, and if I could get him to see the truth in things, well, perhaps we could save a whole bunch of lives.
Because despite all my conflicted feelings about him and his foolhardy belief in his own brillance, I still felt a little soft toward him. It ain’t my fault. The heart wants what it wants, and I was still entirely too fascinated by Gideon Carr.
But Gideon was also out and about, so I rooted around in the kitchen until I found a hard crust of bread and a rind of cheese that was mostly fine, ate my makeshift dinner, and then fell asleep while debating whether to bathe.
Now sun streams through the windows, open to let in a bit of air, and the stink of the dead carries on the breeze. It’s a grim reminder that my freedom is tenuous at best.
A rap comes at the door, and another. It sounds like an official sort of knock, so the last people I expect to see when I open the door are Sue and that strange girl, Callie.
“Jane!” Sue says, grabbing me in a one-armed hug so that she doesn’t have to put down her scythe. “You stink.”
“Well, there ain’t exactly a lot of chances to bathe in jail. Callie, good to see you again.”
The girl gives me a ghost of a smile. She looks like she’s been crying.
“You all looking for Gideon?” I ask.
Sue shakes her head. “You and Katherine. Where’s Miss Priss got to? We ain’t got a lot of time.”
“I am right here,” Katherine says, sailing into the parlor. She ignores me, and I realize that I got some groveling ahead of me if I want to get back on her good side.
Callie greets her with a nod. “Sue and I will explain what’s happening as we walk.”
They set a good pace, and Katherine and I follow along behind. I reach out for her wrist. “Kate, about yesterday—”
“I have no interest in talking to you, Jane.”
I take a deep breath and let it out. “I’m trying to apologize, Kate.”
“That ain’t an apology,” Sue calls from up ahead. “Try starting with ‘I’m sorry, I was wrong.’”
I twist my lips. “Thanks for the help, Sue.”
“Anytime.”
I grab Katherine’s wrist again, this time holding her until she stops walking. She gives me a scowl, and I give her my best smile. “Kate, I was wrong, and I’m sorry. I ain’t got a lot of friends, and I said things yesterday that came from a place of hurt and fear and . . . I don’t know, rage. Not anger at you, but at the world. Still, I ain’t had any kind of right to point those feelings at you, and I’m sorry.”
Katherine blinks once and again, and then she nods. “That will do, Jane. Thank you. But I am still quite hurt, and you are going to live with that for now.”
I sigh as she takes back her hand. “Don’t stay mad at me too long. We got dead to fight, and you know how aggravation makes you sloppy.”
Her lips nearly quirk into a smile, but she manages to subdue it. Still, it tells me things will be fine between us. Eventually.
We run to catch up with Sue and Callie up ahead; by the time we do, they’ve reached a group of Negroes I quickly recognize as the Summerland patrols. They greet me heartily, and I let myself be welcomed with a wide grin while Katherine stands a little ways back from the group.
“Good to see you free,” Ida says after everyone else has acknowledged me.
“Good to see you still in one piece. How’s that cavalry sword treating you?” I ask, pointing to the blade by her side.
“Well enough, but it might not matter in a bit,” she says, gesturing behind her. She leads us down a path that bends behind the last building before the wall.
And I cannot help but swear at the sight before me.
Someone has destroyed the back wall of Nicodemus, pulling down the rear gate and leaving the town exposed to any dead that might find their way to the rear of the town. The wood bears the markings of an ax, ruling out the dead, and the work looks hastily done. I stare at the wide opening to the rest of the prairie. I got a strong urge to run through and keep going, but I know better than to think that’s any kind of option. I’ve got no supplies and no clue where to even go.
“Who could’ve done this?” I wonder aloud, not actually expecting an answer.
“No clue,” Ida says, spitting as she studies the damage. “But even if we were to try and plug that hole up there ain’t no way it would keep the dead out.”
“Nicodemus is finished,” Callie whispers. She’s trembling something fierce. For the rest of us this is just another rest stop on a never-ending road to nowhere. But for her, this dusty town is home.
“It could not have been just one person,” Katherine murmurs. “Dismantling such a large gate would take many hands, especially if it were done quickly.”
The rail gun fires up, as if to remind us just what is at stake. The dead will find a way into Nicodemus, and it’s almost like someone has purposefully invited them in.
It’s only our good fortune that has kept the horde from surrounding the town up to now, but it seems like we might be running out of luck, and
fast.
“There’s a whole lot of boot prints. Did anyone see anything?” I ask.
Everyone shakes their head, and Ida stamps her foot. “Ain’t no sense in worrying about who’s responsible now. We need a plan.”
“Ida’s right,” Sue says, resting the hilt of her scythe in the dirt and leaning against it, easylike. “There’s always been something funny about this town, and I don’t like it one bit. I think we get what we can and skedaddle.”
“We have to tell Miss Duncan,” I say, surveying the damage. There are wagon tracks, and I crouch down to inspect them. “And we have to warn the folks that live here. They need to know their flank is compromised.” My pronouncement sits uneasy with folks, and I hold up a hand before any of them can argue. “I know that you want to take off, never look back. And I ain’t got no kind of softness for this place, either. But this town was built by Negroes like you and me, and I think we owe it to our folks to at least give them a chance to evacuate with us.”
“They won’t listen,” Ida says, expression hard.
“That doesn’t mean we don’t try,” I say. It pains me to care, to want to save Nicodemus. Daniel Redfern’s words come back to me, about heroes and minding one’s own damn business. But a world where everyone just looks out for themselves? That ain’t the kind of world I want to live in.
“Before we do we might want to puzzle out who could have been behind this destruction,” Katherine asks, stepping forward and surveying the damage more closely.
“Maybe it was the Summerland folks?” I offer.
“None of the wagons are missing, though,” Callie says. “I checked after I saw what had happened.” I nod and return to my examination of the boot prints around the gate. I’m no tracker, but I can recognize a woman’s shoe imprint. One woman and one man, it looks like. Curious.
“You should tell your daddy,” Sue says, and Callie’s face scrunches up in distaste. But she eventually nods and runs off.
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