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.
The most distressing change here at Rose Hill is that, due to the undead plague, most of the people in the valley have abandoned their farms for easier living out west. I daresay that if it weren’t for the aunties, even our happy community would be torn asunder. But Auntie Aggie and her sisters have proven to be as wise as ever, and we are living still in relative comfort.
Chapter 19In Which I Am Vaccinated and Become a Beacon of Hope
The narrow staircase is dark, but a yellow glow from up ahead provides a bit of illumination. I walk behind Katherine, my fingers brushing hard-packed earth on either side.
The staircase ends and deposits us in a sizable room. The walls and floors are buttressed like a basement, and the entire space is much larger than the small building we entered. Katherine is looking around the room, her expression filled with wonder, and it’s no surprise.
We are in a genuine laboratory.
One of the weeklies a few months ago had been about a scientist who went mad, turning himself into a terrible creature that ravished women. The scientist eventually kills himself after he sees the horror he hath wrought, and I think that, had the story been real, this is the kind of place that might have been his lair. Small lights are embedded into the ceiling, but I find it hard to believe there might be gas lines in this hellscape. Beakers and bits of metalwork are strewn across a wooden workbench, and there are a number of strange, shiny steel things
