Chapter 32In Which I Am Invited to a Battle
Word of Katherine not feeling well gets around quicker than a brush fire in August. A few minutes after I speak with Mr. Gideon, a few roughnecks come by with a basket of blackberries that they found out along the creek, like some fruit is going to cure whatever ails her. I smile and thank them before closing the door, firmly refusing them entry. They’re followed by another group of men, this time with a handful of wild onions and another with a rabbit, cleaned and ready to be cooked. By the time all of the shifts have returned, Katherine and I have the makings of a rather fine meal, and even though it’s far too hot to stoke a fire in the hearth, I do it anyway, roasting the rabbit along with the onions over patties that thankfully smell more like grass than anything else.
Once the entire mess is ready, Katherine and I eat it greedily, the past week of good eating not quite able to make up for the weeks of starvation. Around mouthfuls of rabbit and blackberries she confesses that even the rations for the white folks have become smaller and smaller since so many families have arrived in the past couple of weeks. It makes me feel a little soft toward the drovers for bringing Katherine their food. Most likely they were counting on it to round out their own dinner, and it says something that they were willing to give it up for Katherine.
She is less impressed.
“Those men are just another part of the problem, and willing enablers. Where do you think Mr. Gideon gets shamblers for that machine you told me about? There’s danger right below our feet, and they’re the ones keeping the cycle going. Not everyone is a prisoner here, Jane. Some of them deeply want Summerland to succeed, no matter what the cost.”
Katherine has removed her hairpins so that the mass of her honeyed curls hang down her back. She looks younger with her hair down, the shadows around her eyes more pronounced. Now that I know what it costs her emotionally to go along with my ruse I’m even more anxious to put our plan into action. It’s only been a few weeks since Katherine went from being just another colored girl at Miss Preston’s to a white lady, and the change in her is obvious as we eat. She is careful in her movements, and the sound of footfalls past our door causes her to look up with a fearful expression. The guilt that rises up in me is near to crippling.
I miss the old Katherine, the one I knew back in Baltimore, even as that girl was sorely vexing. I don’t like this quiet girl with the haunted eyes, and I’m starting to think that maybe I didn’t do her a favor after all. But I can’t change the past; I can only push headlong into an uncertain future.
“Kate,” I say after we’ve eaten our fill as a sudden thought occurs to me. “I came poking around on this side of town the night before I took that whipping. I recognized a couple of the families that just arrived. They were at Mayor Carr’s dinner.”
Katherine purses her lips and leans back on the settee. “Oh, I met them. You don’t have to worry about them, Jane. The funny thing about rich folks is they never remember the hired help. I assure you, my secret is safe.”
When a knock sounds at the door, loud and forceful, Katherine turns apologetic eyes to me. “Jane, I’m sorry, but would you get that?”
“Of course. Why don’t you go ahead and retire for the evening while I make your apologies. It’s near curfew, anyway.” The fire in the grate has burned low, and the air coming in through the open window in the front room bears a chill, the land getting cool as the sun sets.
Katherine gives me a grateful look and I get up and trudge once more to the door. It’s too late for respectable callers, but there ain’t a whole lot of respectable folks in Summerland. So it’s with some surprise that I pull the door open to find the last man I ever want to see. Every muscle in my body tenses.
“Sheriff.”
“Jane. Where’s Miss Deveraux?”
“She’s retired for the evening, sir.” It kills me a little to have to give the sheriff even the barest semblance of respect when all I want to do is test the edge of my sickles against his neck.
“I need to speak with her.”
“It will have to wait until the morning.”
“It can’t wait,” he snaps. He attempts to glance past me into the depths of the rooms and I move to block his view.
“Is there something I can help you with, sir?” I ask, all icy politeness. There’s something a little off about the sheriff; I don’t think he’s been drinking, but his insistence has an undercurrent that puts me on alert. There’s no way I’m going to let him into our rooms.
“Sheriff Snyder, is there something amiss?” Katherine appears in the doorway to the sleeping chamber, clutching her wrap tightly. I scowl at her. I had the situation under control. She ignores me.
The man removes his hat and bows. “Miss Deveraux, I apologize for the intrusion, but I need to borrow your girl.” I bristle at being referred to as an object, but say nothing.
“What’s going on?”
“There’s been a breach on the eastern edge that is more serious than I initially suspected. I need everyone who can handle a weapon with me to take down a pack of shamblers heading toward town.”
“How many?” I ask, forgetting my place.
“About thirty, maybe forty. They’ve already ripped through half my patrol. They’re about two miles away, heading straight toward us.” The sheriff shivers in a way I’ve not seen from him since I arrived.
Katherine and I exchange a glance, and I give her a slight nod. She turns to
