I don’t say anything. It annoys me that Redfern is asking for my help, especially since the last time I saw him he gave me that lecture about minding my own business, but he’s right. I want the tinkerer dead.
And I want to be the one to do it.
I think about the old man in the boat. “Did Gideon cause the fall of Sacramento?” I ask. I know what I think the answer to be, but I need the confirmation.
“The West is almost devoid of shamblers,” Redfern says. “And yet, Sacramento suddenly falls to a horde, right after Gideon reportedly sets up shop there? Does that sound like a coincidence to you?”
“The precedent has been set,” I drawl. A body in motion tends to stay in motion, like old Sir Isaac Newton said. Unless acted upon by an outside force.
“Jane.” Katherine’s hand is on my arm and her eyes are full of barely restrained emotion. I can already hear the lecture she wants to give me. She wants to remind me that this doesn’t have to be my fight. I could stay with her and the wagon train, make our way to Haven and maybe a future away from so much killing. She wants me to let go of my anger and try to move past my rage, to be the Jane McKeene I once was.
But I can’t.
Redfern’s got a lead on Gideon, and I’ve already lost track of the man before. And every time I do, disaster follows. The man is a menace to society, what remains of it, and he must be stopped. Even if Katherine is right—that there is a place for me and a life that could be good and safe—it’s not going to matter. Not as long as Gideon Carr remains at large.
The only problem is convincing Katherine that me running off to kill Gideon Carr doesn’t mean I don’t care about her. Because if I leave, I am certain it will break her heart.
And I ain’t sure how many chances I got left.
If California be the only hope of this fine land, a state settled by zealotry and greed, then I fear for the rest of these great United States. Indeed, we must ask ourselves if the dead are not so much a happenstance of the world, but a plague visited upon us for our many sins. And if that be the case, then running shall not change a thing.
—Senator William P. Henry, 1870
—KATHERINE—
Chapter 44
Notes on a Terrible Idea
As I listened to Daniel Redfern’s tale my worry grew with every word. His timing is terrible, and the tale he spins is even worse. The more he talked, the harder Jane’s expression became. Now I am afraid that the hints of lightness I have seen over these past couple of weeks were but my imagination. I have worked so hard to bring Jane back to her better self, and here is Daniel Redfern to send her once more into that darkness.
I refuse to let that happen.
I stand and gesture to Sue and Jane. “I am sorry, Daniel, but could you excuse us? We need to have a word.”
“Of course,” he says, standing as etiquette dictates. He watches us walk away from the cook fire with a mixture of interest and sadness. How much of it is an act and how much is truth? I have always been a very good judge of people, especially men. Spending time among women who make their living off a man’s passions very quickly shows a body the best and worst of the sex, and Daniel Redfern makes me feel vaguely on edge. More so than ever before.
But mostly, I fear that Jane going with this man on a mission of violence will result in her end. She saved me once. Now, I have to save her from herself.
Once we are out of earshot I round on Jane. “I do not trust that man.”
“Me either,” says Sue, crossing her arms. “That man is too handsome by half, even looking like the loser in a boxing match. It’s positively distracting.”
“Sue!” I exclaim. “Be serious.”
“I am,” Sue says with a slow smile. She turns to Jane. “But Katherine is right. He’s leaving something out in this yarn he’s spinning. You’ve been hunting Gideon Carr for months, how is it that your paths are just now crossing? The man never struck me as being ineffective. He should’ve sought you out long before now.”
“Exactly,” I say, nodding along as Sue speaks. “Maybe the legend of the Devil’s Bride has spread far and wide, but that does not explain his sudden appearance. He is hiding something.”
“I’m going with him,” Jane says. “I’m sorry.”
“Jane, be sensible,” I say. I can feel the work I have done over the past few weeks, helping Jane piece herself together as we traveled, begin to come undone as she considers turning back toward the bloody path of revenge. “We are only a few days from Haven, Daniel Redfern can wait until then. Perhaps we can resupply and find allies willing to go with us to confront Gideon.”
I had hoped that upon getting to Haven we would find at the very least a functional town and, perhaps, Jane’s mother and Aunt Aggie. I know Jane can be saved from the darkness in her soul, but I am afraid that I am not enough to get her to reconsider her path. Not again.
“I don’t think this can wait,” Jane says, her voice low. Something flickers in her gaze. “Katherine, I have to see this through. I’ve given up so much already, and someone has to stop him. I cannot bear to let this opportunity slip past.”
I stamp my foot, because Jane is irksome under the best of circumstances and this is far from that. “If you think that I am about to let you march off with a man who has put his interests before ours, to our detriment, by the by, on more than one occasion, you have another think coming, Jane McKeene. You know how I feel about this muttonheaded quest of yours, but running off with Daniel Redfern is a whole other level of lunacy. You are going to get yourself killed because you are too impulsive by half—”
Sue’s deep laugh halts my tantrum.
“I swear, the pair of you are a match set, stubborn and overly dramatic to boot. You are both so determined to be contrary that it’s a wonder you managed to escape that terrible town that had you all jammed up.”
Jane raises an eyebrow. “And I suppose you’ve got a plan?”
“Of course. Just because the two of you never ask my thoughts on a matter doesn’t mean I’m beef-witted. Jane, you’re going to run off with Sheriff Redfern and get killed doing something reckless because you cannot help yourself. And then, Katherine, you’re going to spend another year feeling sorry for yourself and doubting every decision you make.” Jane and I fall silent, chastened, and Sue gives us a smug look. “Now here’s what I think: Jane, you’re my friend and all, but I learned long ago never to get in between you and something you got your heart set on. You want to kill that fool from Nicodemus, have at.”
I swallow hard. “Sue, this is the opposite of helpful.”
She shrugs. “Maybe. But someone has to be levelheaded here. Personally, I think spending all this time chasing down a single man is a lot for a body to handle. Way I see it, Jesus gets everyone sorted out when they get to the afterlife, so one way or another that man will get his.”
Jane nods slowly. “I’ve always counted you as a friend, Sue. So thank you.”
“I ain’t finished,” Sue says, exasperation lacing her voice. “It’s obvious Katherine is going to have to go with you, both to save you from your impulses and so she doesn’t go mad with worry over your carcass.”
“Not a chance,” Jane says. “I can’t have Katherine’s death on my soul.”
“As if I am so easy to kill,” I huff. “Sue is right. Your purpose may be Gideon Carr, but you are mine. I go with you, or you do not go at all.”
“Is that a threat?” Jane asks, eyebrow arching.
“Yes, it is.”
Jane hesitates before sighing dramatically. “Fine. But if you’re angling to keep me from killing Gideon you may as well stay here.”
“I am not, Jane. But you shall not go down this path alone. Because you have people who love you. You always have.”
Something like sadness passes over Jane’s features, but it is gone quicker than lightning. She gives me a dismissive wave. “If you say so.”
And just like that, we are agreed on a course of action.
Jane no
ds toward Sue. “I don’t have to worry about you coming along as well, do I?”
Sue snorts. “Heck no. Besides, someone has to keep an eye on Lily and Tomás and talk Carolina out of the snit he’s bound to fall into when he discovers you’ve gotten Katherine tangled up in one of your terrible schemes.”
We leave early the next morning, just as the sun sends tendrils of pink across the deep blue sky. Mr. Redfern has not a single weapon and we are able to convince Juliet to part with both a shotgun and a Bowie knife for the man. Our plan is simple: hike straight into the mountains to Smith’s Forge. It is an abandoned mining camp, and the place where Mr. Redfern says Gideon is holed up. Upon finding Gideon Carr, we will end his life.
“How do you know that Gideon Carr is still in this mining camp?” I ask as we walk, because I think Mr. Redfern is withholding vital information.
“Miss Deveraux, I believe I told you this already. Two days ago. That was when I ran afoul of Gideon’s hired guns. There are three of them. Not sure where they’re from, but all white, all of the rough sort that prowl these violent lands. We shouldn’t have to worry about them until we get closer to the encampment.”
“And just why exactly do you think Mr. Carr will still be in this place?” I ask.
“Because from what I could tell he’s set himself up a nice lab out of the way from just about everything. And the kind of equipment he would have brought with him is expensive and hard to find. Not to mention that Gideon Carr is not a man to abandon what he sees as his life’s work.”
I do not ask any further questions, because Jane is giving me a sidelong glance and I do not want to provoke her. She is taken with this nonsense, and while all my concern is for her and what is left of her soul, it is a fact that when pushed in one direction she runs in the opposite. So while I doubt the veracity of Mr. Redfern’s claims, I cannot show Jane my hand just yet.
We walk for two days straight, into the Sierra Nevadas, our trek consisting of little-used footpaths marked mostly by deer tracks. The nights are freezing, and the days are not much better. The sun shines warm and bright, but the last of winter’s chill clings to the shadows as true spring has not yet made its way up the mountain. Our first night is spent huddled next to a fire, the temperature freezing cold. It seemed improper to take supplies from the wagon train for this tomfoolery, so we only grabbed a bit of pemmican and a hard biscuit. It is only the discovery of a fine trout stream on the second day that keeps us from feeling the pinch of hunger. While it is too early for berries or any other forest greens, Jane is able to dig up a few cattail roots in the mud along the creek to round out our evening meal.
“It’s only about another day and a half walk from here,” Redfern says as we enjoy our repast. I search his face for any signs of guile and find none. We finish the rest of the meal in silence. Jane, for her part, seems calmer than she has been in a spell. I have no idea what is on her mind because she says very little, and that worries me more than anything else. I have never known Jane McKeene to keep her thoughts to herself, and I wonder as we walk if perhaps I have underestimated the hate she carries in her heart. Perhaps I was too late. It could be that she was already too far along her path for vengeance by the time we became reacquainted. The possibility sends me on a spiral of despair, and I fall into a morose silence as we bed down for the night, my thoughts a heavy burden.
Redfern volunteers to take first watch, and I am so tired and dejected that I do not even think to keep a watch on him, falling asleep as soon as I close my eyes.
It is a mistake.
It is still dark when I wake to the sound of a gun cocking next to my temple. I open my eyes to the foul breath of a man grinning down at me.
“Well, ’allo there, lovely,” he says, his voice thickly accented. Without thinking I grab his hand, wrenching his thumb around while I move my knees and bring my leg up to kick him in his middle. He falls over with an oof, and I climb to my feet with a pistol in hand.
“It’s no use, Kate. We’ve been had,” Jane says. Someone stokes the dying embers of the fire, and as the flames cast a bit of light her plight is illuminated. Another man holds a gun pointed at her back, and every weapon from her rig lies in a pile on the ground.
“Miss Deveraux, please disarm. I promise no harm will come to you,” Redfern says. He gives the man who threatened me a meaningful look.
“I think she broke my thumb,” he growls.
“Irish Tom, please,” comes another voice, one that is all too familiar. “We are on a tight schedule.”
The pistol is taken from my hands and Gideon Carr steps into the light of the dying fire, looking just as hale and hearty as he did the last time I saw him in Nicodemus. His eyes are shadowed, but otherwise he is just as I remember him.
“Katherine.” He nods in greeting.
“Miss Deveraux, please,” I say, crossing my arms and lifting my chin. I may be beat, but I still have my pride.
A smile ghosts across Mr. Carr’s lips, and he inclines his head once more in acknowledgment of my rebuke. “Miss Deveraux. It is delightful to see you again, although I am sorry at the circumstances. Please disarm. I would hate to have Irish Tom do it for you.”
“And just what is this schedule we are on?” I demand. I do not quite keep the tremor of fear from my voice and Mr. Carr looks exhausted and resigned.
“I have an experiment in progress,” he says, his voice heavy, “and I have to get back to see the results. So let us be off.”
There is only one rule of the frontier: shoot first and aim well. Well, I suppose that is two, but if you can’t hit the broadside of a barn the first one don’t matter much, does it?
—Bounty Hunter Shorty Allred, 1868
—JANE—
Chapter 45
In Which I Fail
By the time Gideon and his men secure our weapons and belongings and are ready to move, the day is dawning. I cannot decide what I hate more, the fact that Gideon Carr has once more bested me or that Katherine has been looped into my misery.
I knew bringing her along was a stupid idea. Her well-being had halted my trek in Sacramento amongst the smoke and the dead, but now . . . Now I am so close, a heartbeat away from ending Gideon Carr, and I am left to consider that I might have to choose between killing Gideon and saving Katherine.
Even worse is the fact that should Katherine’s life end up on the altar of my vengeance, I ain’t quite sure what my decision might be.
As we leave our campsite Redfern catches my eye, his gaze sliding to Gideon and then back to me. “I’m sorry,” he mutters. “It was the only way.”
I have no response for him. My emotions are a maelstrom and it’s taking everything I have just to walk the path to what I assume is Gideon’s lab.
The moment I heard Gideon’s voice my body went cold. Fingers, toes, even my nose felt like they were encased in ice. And still do. It’s like all my anger and anguish have stolen the warmth from my body, leaving me with an empty shell filled with snow. I struggle to put one foot in front of the other, my rage so all-encompassing that I have half a mind to lurch for Gideon and give killing him my best shot, even though I know my life would be forfeit.
I wondered how it would feel to see Gideon Carr again, but I never could’ve envisioned this frigid fury. To be fair, most of my imaginings had been me strolling into a saloon and finding the man laughingly playing a round of cards. I imagined I would call him out in front of the whole room, so that when I did finally shoot him I would have the law on my side. Not that the law has ever done much for Negroes, but still. It would be a clean kill, a quick one, and then I would get on with living the rest of my life.
I did not imagine myself a weaponless statue made of ice, trying to bide my time until I could finally kill the man properly.
“At least now we know why you volunteered for first watch,” Katherine says to Redfern. Two spots of color ride high in her cheeks, and her blue eyes flash like lightning. I would only be half surprised to see her rip out Redfer
n’s heart like some kind of ancient warrior. Her gaze meets mine, and she lifts her chin and gives me a small smile.
A bit of the ice melts away.
Well, ain’t this a fine kettle of fish.
“I want my money, Gideon,” Redfern says.
The tinkerer waves a dismissive hand in Daniel’s direction. “Yes, yes, of course. I’ll give it to you when we get back to camp.”
“You sold us out,” I say, voice flat.
“I told you, I’m a man who knows how to survive,” Redfern says, expression hard.
And there ain’t much to say to that.
The woods we pass through are beautiful. The creek we slept near burbles along beside the path merrily, and birds call to each other high in the trees. A handful of trees are flowering, and even the ferns that grow in the shadows are an impossible shade of green. It’s gorgeous country.
It’s hard to appreciate when there’s a six-shooter pointed at your spine.
We quickly gain the camp proper, and Redfern’s betrayal is revealed in its totality. He had been the one to suggest that we break early in our trek and forage for our supper. If we’d continued, we would’ve stumbled upon Gideon’s hidey-hole in minutes. It ain’t much of anything—an ugly mud patch carved out of the majesty of the woods. Gideon must have full run of the place, because there ain’t another soul to be seen. A couple of rough canvas tents, two buildings, one that lists dangerously to the right, and a water wheel that turns in the creek, the squeak of it enough to drive a sane man mad.
We are prodded toward the one solid-looking building. The man Gideon referred to as Irish Tom pushes me forward.
“Irish Tom. Is that your given name?” I ask. The man gives me a dark look but says nothing.
“He’s named Irish Tom because he killed ten Irishmen up in Oregon, claim jumping,” Gideon says. “The accent you hear is English. Please do not provoke the man, Jane.”
Deathless Divide Page 36