Jane, I hope that while you are away you are keeping in mind all the things that I have taught you. We live in very troubling times, but that is still no excuse not to be a lady. Always mind your manners!
As the nameless boy turns to me and Katherine, his expression softens. “Would you ladies please follow me? I’ll need to take you to my lab.”
Before I can exit, the fellow behind me gives me a none-too-gentle shove with the barrel of his gun, and I turn and give him my best side-eye. “Sir, please refrain from the liberal use of your rifle. Otherwise, I will show you some creative places to put it.”
The man just gives me a gap-toothed grin full of malice, and we make our way out of the sheriff’s office and back onto the boardwalk, the pale, dark-haired boy leading the way. As he walks, his left foot drags a little. I wonder how he got such a limp, if he was born with it or if something bad happened to him when he was young. I reckon we all have our childhood scars, whether we wear them on the outside or not.
The man behind me shoves me with the rifle barrel again, this time causing me to stumble. I catch myself against the front of the general store as he chuckles.
“What are you gonna do? Nothing, that’s what, you uppity darkie. You ain’t in no position to be giving me any lip.”
I smile sweetly at him as a black temper sweeps over me, all of the indignities of the past few days coalescing into a dark cloud that erases all thought. Then I center myself and, quick as you please, drop into a crouch and whip around to sweep his legs out from under him. Once he’s on the ground I kick him in the side before placing my knee on his throat. All of this happens in less than a rabbit’s heartbeat.
As he gurgles and flails I lean in close. “Right now, sir, with my knee on your throat, I am in the perfect position to counsel you on your bad manners. A lesson to be learned: Lady Fortune is as fickle as they come. And in a land full of shamblers you’d best not test my good nature, you hear me? You never know when you’ll end up with the bite.”
The sound of a revolver cocking is deafening next to my ear. “Miss, would you please get off of Bill? I’m afraid he’s the sheriff’s cousin, and the sheriff would be quite upset if anything happened to him.”
I glance back to see the pale boy above us, the lovely Colt in his hand pointed straight at my head. I give him my sweetest smile and climb to my feet. “Of course.” I even bob a little curtsy.
The boy puts his revolver away, tucking it back into the holster that hangs low on his hips. “And, Bill, please show some restraint. These ladies are trained in the art of killing the dead. I know you haven’t heard of Miss Preston’s, but the girls from that school are well respected. They are a far cry from the Negroes we get from the Southern enclaves. It would be a small matter for them to turn that talent on you.”
Bill picks up his hat off the ground and spits. “I don’t take orders from you, boy.”
“No, you don’t. But you do need someone to treat that malady of yours, so I would caution you to check your baser impulses, sir. It is a delicate procedure, and Doc has been known to have shaky hands when he doesn’t get his whiskey. And like I tell the good doctor often, you never know when the town might suddenly go dry.”
Bill goes whiter than a sheet, and I can’t help but wonder what kind of treatment he needs, and what might make a man so fearful of a pair of shaky hands.
The boardwalk ends and we step into the dusty street and keep walking. Bill falls back a little, probably worried that I’ll feed him my foot again. No chance of that, not in these shoes. My feet hurt, and I think longingly of my boots back at Miss Preston’s, worn in and so very comfortable. Me and Katherine still wear our finery from the night we were shanghaied, and these things I’m wearing are for looking pretty, not strolling through a frontier town.
“Hey there, Gideon, you bringing me some new girls?”
A woman hangs out of a doorway across the street. It takes everything I have to keep my mouth from dropping open in shock. The woman is generously appointed, her white bosom spilling out over the top of her low-cut gray gown, her hand on one of her wide hips. Her hair is red as cherries and piled messily on top of her head. Behind her a few other women peek out into the street, everyone trying to get an eyeful.
The pale boy, who I am supposing is named Mr. Gideon, stops and tips his bowler. “Good day to you, Duchess. I’m afraid at least one of these girls is headed to the patrols, and neither are intended for employment in your fine establishment.”
The women in the doorway all titter at Mr. Gideon’s pretty words, and as we continue walking, Katherine leans in close to my ear. “I do believe that is a house of ill repute.”
I nod solemnly. “Yes, Kate, I do believe you are correct.”
Katherine sniffs. “I cannot believe she thinks we’re meant to work there.”
I stare at Katherine, trying to figure out if she’s serious or having a go at me. Her expression is that of someone who has suffered a grievous insult, and I have to fight to swallow a hysterical laugh.
Her mouth drops open. “Jane, tell me you aren’t insulted.”
I lean in close so that the men don’t hear me. “Insulted? Kate, we have been put in chains and sent halfway across the continent. We are currently at the mercy of a man who believes that Negroes are put here on this earth to fight shamblers at the white man’s behest, and is going to send us out to do it without guns. Jackson sits in a jail cell awaiting some unknown fate. This town is a dirt spot in the middle of nowhere. There are no trees and the land is disconcertingly flat. My virtue is honestly the last thing I’m worried about. I’m hungry, tired, a little afraid, and a whole bunch angry, but a few hurt feelings are the furthest thing from my mind right now.”
My voice rises as I talk, and by the time I get to the end Mr. Gideon has turned around.
“Don’t worry, Miss Deveraux. The Duchess just likes to have some sport with all the girls that come through. Her sense of humor tends a bit mean. Members of the patrol may spend their sleep shifts under the roof of her saloon, but no one in this town will believe they are doing anything but resting there. I’ve taken steps to ensure that past mistakes are not repeated.”
I force him a tight-lipped smile, but his words only serve to agitate me further. Every minute in this place reveals a new, terrible fact. “Past mistakes?”
He doesn’t elaborate, and we finally reach his hole, as the sheriff called it. It’s a small building, not much bigger than the privies we passed a little ways back, and Gideon turns to Bill when we arrive.
“You can stay here. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
Bill says nothing, jaw tight, but takes up a guard position, while Katherine and I follow Mr. Gideon down into the gloom.