After what seems like months, but in reality is only about five days, the train stops once again. This time when the door opens wide, and my eyes finally adjust to the too-bright light, there are three rough-looking fellows holding shotguns.
“Welcome to the great state of Kansas. Wonder how long you’ll survive,” one says, his voice high and squeaky. He gives us a gap-toothed grin.
It’s all I can do not to roll my eyes. After nearly a week of being cooked alive and shaken out of my skin I’m irritable and in no mood to deal with a bunch of toothless bullies. I hold my chained hands up. “One of you gonna unlock these, or are you just going to stand there wasting daylight?”
Squeaky takes a step back, his grin fading to a look of surprise. I reckon most folks show up scared as a mouse in a trap after such a brutal trip, but Miss Anderson’s revelation and the long, slow ride to mull it over has just given me a mean feeling. Right now, I don’t care about much else but the two tasks before me.
First, find my momma. My mother is alive and probably thinks I am dead. I have to find her and tell her the truth. That means I have to find a way back to Rose Hill, and quick-like.
But I have to bring Katherine and Jackson along as well. I can’t leave them stranded on the prairie. Plus, I’m going to need their help to survive the trip.
Before I can do any of that, though, I have to survive. By any means necessary. And from the stories I’ve read of the Western frontier, that ain’t going to be easy.
The three dimwits staring at us don’t move, so I shake my chains at them. “Yo! You want us to get out or not?”
“Gentlemen.” Mr. Redfern’s low voice causes the louts to step aside uncertainly, and he leaps into the railcar with an easy grace. He unlocks our chains, and for a moment I think about hitting him upside the head and making a run for it. But just like before, like the many stops along the way, I don’t. I have no idea where I am and how to get back to civilization. No weapons, no food, no nothing. I will plan my escape, but now is not the time or place.
Unfortunately Jackson is not possessed of such calm and reasoned logic. Once his hands are free, he hauls back and punches Mr. Redfern in the face. The man ain’t expecting it, and he goes down like a sack of rocks.
“Let’s go!” Jackson yells before launching himself from the train car and running off. Katherine is still chained to the floor, and our eyes meet in surprise and disbelief.
Mr. Redfern climbs to his feet, fists clenched and jaw locked. I hold my hands up. “That boy is all impulse. I ain’t running nowhere.” He gives me a short nod and jumps down from the train car. “Hey, at least leave the keys so I can unlock Kate!”
The keys fly backward over his shoulder and I snatch them out of the air. I unlock Katherine’s chains and help her to her feet. “Ugh, you smell,” she says, holding the back of her hand delicately to her face.
“You ain’t a bed of roses yourself.” I jerk my head toward the opening. “Come on. I wanna see what they do to old muttonhead.”
We jump down from the railcar, unsteady after so many days locked up. Katherine and I are just in time to see Jackson tackled by the three men a little ways down the street that leads away from the rail yard. Mr. Redfern runs down to help, and I cross my arms and watch as the scene unfolds. Katherine frowns.
“Well, that wasn’t wise.”
“Nope.”
Jackson struggles against the men, finally slumping in their arms after Mr. Redfern gives him a little payback by way of a fist to the chin.
“What was that boy thinking?” Katherine murmurs, shaking her head. I wonder as well. Jackson’s had run-ins with the mayor’s men before, what does he expect in a place like this? The West is lawless as all get-out from what the papers say. I doubt a town founded by Baltimore’s no-good mayor and his Survivalist pals is going to be much better.
“Do you think they’ll kill him?”
“Naw, not yet.” At least, I hope not. I am not proud to say it gives me a perverse kind of joy to see Jackson take a few licks. After all, it’s mostly his fault I’m here in the first place. Him and those damned blue-green eyes. “They went through a lot of trouble to bring us all this way. We’re needed for something, so I don’t think they’re going to be so quick to kill us right yet.”
The men pick Jackson up and haul him toward a wooden front building with bars on the windows. I ain’t sure if the bars are meant to keep the shamblers out or people in. My accommodations didn’t exactly give me the bird’s-eye view of the town, and what I’m seeing now is just mystifying.
Everything here is new. The buildings ain’t anything like I’d imagined in a frontier town. Everything is whitewashed and a boardwalk runs along the front of the buildings, raising the foot traffic above the dusty main street. I spy a saloon, bank, dry-goods store, and a hotel. The road is flat and well maintained, and beyond the town is the flattest land I’ve ever seen. There’s a cluster of houses off in the distance, but there’s no telling how big they are or if they’re even occupied. The plains are golden yellow, fading into a sky so pale it’s like a sun-bleached version of the sky back in Maryland. It’s hotter than Hades, and the sun beats down mercilessly. Far off there’s a strange ridge, even and uniform, and I can’t make out what it is even as I
