“You’re smarter than anyone I know, Jane, and I’m not just saying that so you’ll help me. If I’ve missed something, some sign of what happened to them, I know you’re the person to find it.”
A year ago, I would have chalked this up to shamblers and been done with it. But if what Red Jack says is true, it does sound like a bit of a mystery. I reach under my shirt and run my thumb over my lucky penny. There’s no chill and no flash of brilliance, so my luck charm isn’t any kind of help this time.
Red Jack watches me but says nothing, his face a pleasant half smile that could easily mean he’s enjoying a fine tale or he’s planning on stealing someone’s watch. That’s his worried face, which makes me even more concerned.
“Fine, I’ll help you.”
He breaks out into a wide grin. “Thatta girl. You got a letter for me to send?”
I dig the envelope out from the hidden pocket I’ve sewn into the hem of my day dress. We’re not supposed to send letters home, because Miss Preston thinks that it’s a distraction from our studies. But I can always count on Jackson to smuggle something to the post for me.
“You got any letters for me?”
Jackson shakes his head. “Nope. But don’t worry. I’m sure your ma’s just been busy.”
“For a whole year? Not likely.” I hold the letter out and he tucks it into his breast pocket.
Jackson’s expression goes soft. “Thanks for agreeing to help me.”
I nod. “Just, enough of this ‘owing you’ nonsense. We’re either friends or we’re not, Jackson. And friends don’t keep score.”
“Ah, Jane. Obviously you haven’t had many friends.” Before I can snarl a reply Red Jack tips his bowler, flips something at me that I catch in midair, and slips out the window, quick as he came.
I look down at what he tossed me. It’s a new book: Tom Sawyer, by a fellow named Mark Twain. I tuck it into my hidden pocket and then button the thing shut for safekeeping.
“I’m going with you.”
I turn around. Katherine’s hands are on her hips and she looks to be spoiling for a fight. Surprisingly, Miss Anderson is nowhere to be found. Maybe she didn’t tell on me.
Doesn’t mean I’m about to take her with me on my late-night escapades.
“I ain’t going anywhere, Kate. You about done with this floor? I’m going to see if Miss Preston has anything else for us before I wash up.”
“Stop calling me Kate. I detest that nickname. And don’t lie to me. You’re going to sneak out tonight with that boy to visit the Spencers’ farm, and I’m going with you.”
What a sneaky little eavesdropper. “Why?”
“My reasons are my own business.” She sniffs, just as haughty as ever.
“You’re going to have to do better than that.”
“Fine,” she huffs. “The Spencers are good people. If something happened to them, I want to find out what. Besides, you could use my help if you get into trouble. That Jackson boy doesn’t seem like the most reliable in a fight.”
I open my mouth to protest, but she ain’t done. “Anyway, it’s the least you can do after destroying my bonnet.”
Right on cue a pounding sensation begins behind my eyes. “I didn’t destroy your bonnet. Like I told you, it was that Indian man with the damned rifle.” That intriguing man with a rifle who had looked at me with disdain. I’m still wondering how he happened to be there ready to put down a shambler just when I needed him.
“Really, Jane. You shouldn’t swear. Either way, you still owe me. For the bonnet, and for sullying my relationship with Miss Preston. Besides, I didn’t tell Miss Anderson about your beau. Or the book he brought you. And I still could.”
She’s right. Trying to give Katherine over to save my own hide hadn’t been my finest moment, and if I really think about it I do feel the tiniest bit guilty. Plus, now she’s got a whole load of dirt on me. It’s in my best interest to keep on her good side. If she wants to tag along, then that is on her.
“Fine, but you need to listen to me and listen well. We get caught and the punishment is going to be far worse than housework. We will get the strap. Or worse, expelled. So make sure you know what you’re asking for. We leave two hours after lights-out. Now, can we please dump this dirty water and get on with our lives?”
Katherine nods, and we each grab a bucket, hefting them back to the kitchen. We’re halfway down the hall when Katherine murmurs, “So, about your beau—”
“He ain’t my beau.”
“Really? Because he seems like your beau, bringing you gifts and all.”
I turn to look at her, but she’s serious. Does she really think that’s what courting looks like? Red Jack inspires feelings of murder in me, not love. It wasn’t always like that, but Katherine ain’t asking about ancient history. “No, he’s a mistake I have no intention of repeating.”
“Oh. I was just wondering.”
I watch her as we haul our buckets down the hall. Does Katherine fancy Jackson? She’s pretty enough, and Jackson’s type is anything he thinks he can tumble. Still, the thought of them together is enough to make me more than a little stabby. Jealousy is a terrible thing, and I swallow the emotion down hard as I can.
I consider warning her that taking a turn with Jackson is beyond a terrible idea, but I decide to save my breath. If anyone had tried to tell me a year ago that blue-green-eyed Jack would break my heart, I wouldn’t have believed them. That’s the way it is when you fancy someone. Your heart starts doing the thinking, and your brain? Well, it gets left out of the equation until too late.
Either way, Katherine can discover what kind of scoundrel Jackson is on her own.
My one regret about leaving Rose Hill in such haste
