People are yelling all kinds of questions, but Mayor Washington returns to the front of the room, thanking Gideon and clapping him on the back as he departs the dais.
“Ladies and gentlemen, you have heard our resident man of science and his proposal. The need is self-evident. As such, the council has decided that everyone in town is to be inoculated. Mr. Carr will be visiting each home personally to administer the injection. From there, we will begin assigning people to teams, and we will start launching small-scale attacks against the horde in the hopes of thinning out its numbers. Every man and woman will do their part. And I do mean everyone. Make no mistake, our fight is for the very fate of Nicodemus. We either survive or perish together, and I for one would like to keep on breathing this sweet Kansas air.”
“The man is a muttonhead,” Sue murmurs with a sidelong glance at Callie. If she is offended by the slight to her father, she does not show it. I nod, but as I listen to the muttering around the room, I wonder if Gideon’s little presentation has convinced some folks. The promise of a cure is a seductive one.
The mayor and his council take their leave, ignoring the shouts and questions that follow them out the door. Ida walks past us, and I grab her by the arm.
“I thought you did not believe in Gideon Carr’s vaccine,” I say, my voice low enough that it does not carry.
Ida smirks at me. “No one asked me whether I believe in it. They asked whether I got the shot, and I did. But Gideon promised me that if I did what he asked, he’d ensure that the patrols wouldn’t just be us colored folks all over again. That was enough for me.”
“Do you really think the mayor or anyone else is going to get those lily-livered white folks to pick up a blade?” Sue asks. “And, besides, I thought you wanted out of this town?”
Ida shrugs. “Still do. But least this way, I have a better chance of surviving until the getting is good. And maybe that horde will be a little smaller when we take our leave.” She turns on her heel and strides away. I cross my arms and look at Sue.
“Well, what now?” I wonder aloud.
“Ida is right: nothing’s changed,” Sue says with a heavy sigh. “Let’s go rustle up something to eat, and afterward we’ll tell Jane everything that’s going on. Hopefully Lucas and his boys are working on that plan to get her free. Because I want out of this place sooner rather than later.”
I nod and make to follow. Callie, however, hangs back.
“Callie? Are you coming?”
“Not just yet, I have something I want to do,” she says. Her gaze is locked on Gideon Carr, and I stifle a knowing smile.
“Well, good luck,” I say, even though I am not sure I honestly mean it.
Nothing good can ever come of a Negro girl chasing after a white boy, but I suppose that is a lesson Callie will have to learn for herself.
Men in rage strike those that wish them best.
—Shakespeare, Othello
—JANE—
Chapter 15
In Which I Spoil for a Fight
I’m lying on my back in the Nicodemus jail, pondering Gideon and what his motives might be (nothing good from where I sit), when Katherine enters the sheriff’s office. She is such a welcome sight that I can’t help but smile as I climb to my feet.
“Well, look what the cat dragged in,” I say.
In truth, she looks fresh as a daisy. She’s wearing a day dress in pink calico with just enough ruffles to be ridiculous, if it were on anyone else but her. Her hair is swept up in a complicated style that a typical woman would need a lady’s maid to accomplish, but I know Katherine probably did it all by herself. She makes me viciously envious, not because of how pretty she looks but because I’ve been wearing the same sweat-soaked dress covered in shambler blood for going on a week. All I want is to burn it and dance on its ashes before soaking for a whole day in a tub. But there ain’t a lot of bathing in jail. I mean, the facilities consist of a bucket, for the love of God.
Katherine huffs predictably before looking around for a chair. “Do you know how difficult it is to find acceptable clothing in the middle of the prairie?”
I raise an eyebrow and cross my arms. “I was joking with you, Kate. What’s got into you?”
Katherine purses her lips before moving over to the bars. “Well, there is a giant horde outside our gates and now the entire town believes that somehow Gideon Carr’s vaccine is going to save them,” she says. “Well, if not save them then at least keep them safe. We should be fleeing instead of trying to fight.”
“They want to fight the horde?” I say, feeling the world fall away a little.
Katherine waves away my words like she’s brushing off a mosquito and turns back to me. “Never mind about all that, we have more pressing issues. How are you doing, Jane?”
The warmth and worry in her voice undo a little of my control, and I have to blink hard to keep from crying. “Oh, you know, well enough. Just seeing ghosts, is all.”
Katherine frowns. “Sheriff Snyder’s?”
I laugh, the sound harsh and loud. In my grief over Jackson I’ve mostly forgotten all about the other man I killed. “I wish. Him, I’d know how to deal with. No, Jackson.”
She leans forward, eyes wide. “What did he say?”
“You believe me?”
She snorts. “Of course I believe you, Jane. I am not sure that any Christian who believes in the good Lord above could ignore the possibility of souls being trapped here in our world, unable to pass on. Haints are a real thing. I saw them when I was younger, out in the bayou. Ghost lights that will lure you to your death, angry spirits that got unfinished business, and the kind ones who will give you a gentle nudge when you need it. Since you are still here and relatively unscathed, I am assuming Jackson was the third sort.”
I shake my head, because the last thing I expected was to discover that straitlaced Katherine Deveraux believes in ghosts. “He told me we have to get out of town and that I have to keep an eye out for Lily.”
“That makes sense, and exactly what I would think his spirit would say. But I do not understand why that has you so shaken. You look like you ate week-old oysters.”
I blow out a heavy breath. “It’s not just that. I . . . Jackson was going to be a father.”
Her pale brows shoot up so fast I’m afraid they’re going to launch right off her face. “And just how do you know that, Jane? Did his ghost tell you that?”
“No, I nicked a letter off Jackson after he died. A letter that was from his wife back in Baltimore. I gave the rest of his belongings to Lily but that letter I kept because . . . I wanted to know.”
“Know what?” Katherine asks. There’s something in her face, a kind of worry or sadness or something that I can’t rightly place, but I ignore it because I’m too busy wallowing in my own feelings.
“I wanted to know why he got married! I wanted to know why and what she was like.” I start to pace, but there’s only so much space in the cell, and sooner than I’d like I’m turning back toward Katherine and her unnamable expression. She doesn’t say anything for a while. And I wait for her exclamation of surprise, of something, but there’s none.