I love it.
“Would it be possible to put a blade on the end, there?” I wonder aloud. “Just, you know, considering the possibilities.”
“You are an incredible woman, Jane McKeene,” Thaddeus says, and I laugh.
“I know. Now, let’s go dance.”
The sun is barely cresting the trees when I set out to leave the morning after Sue’s wedding. Robert is there with the babies to see me off, Edith in with my mother. I hadn’t been planning to tell her I was leaving, but at some point in the evening, after Sue and her fellow snuck off to try out the bed Carolina built for them, the wedding had turned into a farewell party.
Thaddeus Stevens is by far the world’s worst secret keeper.
Momma had been quite upset and left, but I just let her go. She’s taken to her bed again, but this time she’s going to have to find her way out all by herself. I won’t do it for her anymore.
I kiss the babies, and they laugh and show me their teeth. Robert looks tired, but he offers me a wan smile. “She understands, you know, even if it seems like she doesn’t. She asked me to give you this.” He hands me a letter written on my mother’s signature lavender-and-cream stationary. Somehow she managed to get this paper across the country but not Aunt Aggie.
I smile and tuck it into my front pocket. I won’t read it. I’m going to burn it the first chance I get. I think it’s probably better that way. For just once I’ll keep the soft warmth of fantasy over the cold edge of reality.
I’ve only gone a few paces down the road when somebody calls my name. I’ve already said all my good-byes and the sun is bright in my eyes so I can’t tell who it is. But as Daniel Redfern comes into view I smile.
“Well, howdy, stranger,” I say.
“I overheard you last night and thought maybe you’d like some company,” he says. “It’s dangerous to go alone.”
“I thought you didn’t like to get involved in things,” I say, reminding him of our conversation long ago when he was sheriff. He grimaces.
“Trying something new. People can change, you know.”
“So I hear.” I look back toward town one last time, hoping to see a different silhouette, but the road is empty. It’s better this way, anyhow. I can’t really ask Katherine to give up her life here to help me . . . what? Liberate any remaining Survivalist towns? Reclaim the Lost States? I don’t really even have a plan, just an inkling that I’m needed anywhere else but Haven, California.
Daniel and I start walking, in companionable silence, when a voice yells after me, “Jane McKeene, you stubborn muttonhead, you better not leave without me!”
I turn to see Katherine running toward us. She carries her rifle with one hand and holds her hat on her head with the other, and little puffs of dirt rise up behind her. Her knapsack crisscrosses her body, and I have never been happier to see her. She pants when she reaches us and I frown.
“Are you wearing a corset?”
“Jane, I am not going to discuss my undergarments in the company of men,” she says, looking at Daniel. She leans closer and says, “Yes, but it is very loose, please stop nagging me.”
A feeling, warm and bright and happy wells up in me and I have to fight to keep from crying. But I push it down, because there is something I must say.
“Kate, you have to stay.”
She pauses in fixing a loose piece of hair and stares at me. “What are you blathering on about, Jane?”
“I can’t ask you to come with us. Daniel and I, well, we’re immune to the dead. You ain’t. It’s too dangerous for you to go with us.”
“First of all, you have no idea whether I am immune. You do not know that Gideon Carr did not finally perfect that serum of his any more than I do. We can test it out the first time we find a pack of the dead and adjust our expectations from there. Second, I am your friend, Jane, your best friend, and I would be no kind of person if I did not go where my friend needed me most.” Katherine takes a deep breath and sniffs. “Besides, Haven is gloriously boring. And all the fashion is at least two seasons out of date. I have no desire to hide away from the world. In fact, I recommend we head to New Orleans first, by ship if possible. I miss the salt air.”
Daniel Redfern nods. “That’s not a bad idea if we’re planning on going after any of those remaining Survivalist towns. There’s one right near the mouth of the Mississippi River.”
“Excellent,” Katherine says, stowing her rifle in a back holster and clapping her hands. “Let us get to it, then.”
“Kate,” I say, as we turn our merry band toward the road. “I’m glad you’re here. But more than that, I’m glad you’re my friend. You saved my life when I couldn’t save myself.”
“Oh, honestly, Jane, stop being so silly,” Katherine says, adjusting her hat even though not a hair is out of place. She blinks a bit rapidly, but not a single tear falls. “Of course I am your friend. What a ridiculous statement. What else could I be? And let us not forget that you saved my life as well.”
Redfern clears his throat. “No one seems to be glad I’m here.”
Katherine gives him a sly look. “To be fair, we are still waiting to see whether you can be trusted. Your history leaves a little to be desired, sir.”
Daniel Redfern laughs, the first real laugh I’ve ever heard from him, and I am put out. I am much funnier than Katherine.
He shakes his head and adjusts his hat. I check my pack and weapons one last time, my new metal arm clacking in a strange and easy sort of way, while Katherine grumbles about ungrateful ninnies that continue to underestimate her. I swallow a smile, and for the first time in a long while feel more full of light than dark.
“Hey, what ever became of my lucky penny?” I ask Katherine.
She frowns. “This one?” she says, pulling it out of a pocket.
“Kate, it doesn’t work if you don’t wear it.”
“Honestly, your luck charm never worked for me.” She thrusts it toward me. “Here, take it.”
“Help me put it on,” I say, and Katherine dutifully hangs it around my neck, where it is a warm, heavy comfort. For a moment I imagine I am wrapped once more in Auntie Aggie’s soft embrace, but the moment fades, and I am a little glad. I have had enough of being haunted.
“Are we ready?” Daniel asks, beginning to look like he has regrets.
I shoot him a too-wide grin. “Yep. All set.”
And then we head out, off to find the truths of the world.
Author’s Note
As I sat down to write this sequel, it was difficult to figure out where to go next. What new adventures made sense? What would readers be willing to sign up for after Dread Nation? How do I tell a story that is both honest and sensitive? I’m not sure I accomplished anything I set out to do, except for one: put Black people back into history.
The more I thought about it, the more I knew I had to visit the narrative of Black Americans in the Old West. I love Westerns, but they have long been the province of steely-eyed cowboys and plucky frontierswomen, always white. The mythos of the American Old West has nearly wholesale ignored the rich diversity that could also be found in the average frontier town. People from all walks made their way west immediately after the Civil War with hope for a new life and ran up against hardship and the Natives who were already there. But whenever I read any history book my primary question is always the same:
Where are the Black folks?
Black Americans were everywhere in the American West: herding cattle and plying their trade as ranch hands, establishing homesteads and trying their hand at farming, and, yes, fighting against Native Americans. Before that, they could be found enslaved by the Five Civilized Tribes, eking out an existence in Indian Territory or fighting and dying alongside staunch abolitionists in Kansas. Although Black people, both free and enslaved, lived throughout the West, they are rarely the heroes of any popular narratives.
Deathless Divide is no more a historical text than Dread Nation, but I hope there is something within these pages t
hat provokes a hunger to know more about the actual daily lives of Black people during the late 1800s in America, something beyond slavery and suffering and an offhanded reference to the Underground Railroad.
And, of course, a reading list to help you get started:
The House on Diamond Hill by Tiya Miles
Black Indians: A Hidden Heritage by William Loren Katz
Black Cowboys in the American West: On the Range, on the Stage, behind the Badge, edited by Bruce A. Glasrud and Michael N. Searles
African American Women of the Old West by Tricia Martineau Wagner
And, as always, happy reading!
Justina Ireland
About the Author
Photo by Eric Ireland
JUSTINA IRELAND is the author of Dread Nation, a New York Times bestseller, an ALA Best Fiction for Young Adults Top Ten selection, a nominee for the Nebula and Hugo Awards, and Paste’s Best Young Adult Novel of the Year. Her other books for children and teens include Vengeance Bound, Promise of Shadows, and the Star Wars novel Spark of the Resistance. She enjoys dark chocolate and dark humor and is not too proud to admit that she’s still afraid of the dark. She lives with her husband, kid, and dog in Maryland. You can visit her online at www.justinaireland.com.
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Books by Justina Ireland
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Balzer + Bray is an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers.
DEATHLESS DIVIDE. Copyright © 2020 by Justina Ireland. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
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Cover art © 2020 by Gustavo Marx/MergeLeft Reps Inc.
Hand lettering by David Curtis
Cover design by Alice Wang
Library of Congress Control Number: 2019944665
Digital Edition FEBRUARY 2020 ISBN: 978-0-06-257065-9
Print ISBN: 978-0-06-257063-5
1920212223PC/LSCH 10987654321
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