Sue continues her story, and I force my attention back to her tale. “Jane would sneak out and watch out for wayward travelers—rich or poor, Negro or white, it didn’t matter—for no other reason than because she could. She met that boy out and about one night, and I’m sure he was up to no good, but she saved his life. He was grateful, and she decided she was in love. Right up until she found him tumbling Mary Beth Jefferson.”
“Wait, she found Jackson with another girl and she still was preoccupied with him?”
Sue sighs and nods. “Like I said: muleheaded. I’m sorry about Jackson, may he rest in peace, but darned if he wouldn’t keep finding ways to break her heart for the rest of his days. It’s probably good for Jane that he’s gone, but she won’t see it that way. She’s so stubborn, she’ll keep carrying that flame for him even after he’s dead.”
I tap my finger against my lips as I think. “Whatever happened to Mary Beth Jefferson? I somewhat remember her from Miss Preston’s.”
“Oh, Mary Beth ran off. Left the school real quick after Jane caught her out. Our girl has a mean streak a mile wide once you cross her, and I reckon Mary Beth felt she was better off taking her chances out in the world than sticking around Miss Preston’s.”
I put my hand to my temple and massage the spot as a headache begins to bloom behind my eyes. “This is entirely too much. It is barely noon.”
Sue laughs and slings a heavy arm across my shoulders, pulling me into her side. “Welcome to being friends with Jane McKeene, the hardest job in the world.”
I bite my lip and blink back sudden tears. “I am not sure Jane and I are even friends, Sue.”
“Nonsense. Once Jane decides she’s attached to you, there’s no way you’re prying her off. And you, my dear, are most certainly attached. She might be contrary right now, but give her a few minutes to cool down and it’ll be fine. She’s quick to anger, but just as quick to regain her wits.” Sue releases me and jerks her head toward the far end of the boardwalk. “There’s Miss Duncan.”
We watch as our former instructor approaches, but she seems to be preoccupied with thoughts of her own. I start to wave at her, but Sue catches my hand and pulls me backward so that we rest fully in the shadows of the boardwalk.
“What?” I ask, voice low.
“Miss Duncan seems like she’s about some sort of dark business. Look, she’s got that furrow between her brows like she always used to get when Jane started back-talking.”
Sure enough, Sue is correct. Miss Duncan is vexed about something, and as she disappears toward the stables toward the rear of town I get an idea.
“We should follow her, see what is going on.”
Sue nods. “Good idea. Ruthie ran up to the wall just a short while ago, must be she was running to fetch Miss Duncan.”
“If there is mischief afoot then we should definitely see what it is.”
Sue pushes me playfully with a grin. “Jane’s rubbing off on you. See, it ain’t all bad.”
I roll my eyes at her, and then on quiet, catlike feet, Sue and I skulk after Miss Duncan to ascertain what she could be about.
For there is nothing either good or bad, but thinking makes it so.
—Shakespeare, Hamlet
—JANE—
Chapter 17
In Which Things Begin to Unravel
After Katherine departs, I feel six kinds of awful. I took every last bit of anger and sadness and threw it right at her for no other reason than because I could. Even if we ain’t friends, if everything that we’ve been through up to now ends up being the only kind of kinship we share, there’s still no reason to go back to being how I was at Miss Preston’s.
It’s a revelation that causes me to lie down on the bunk and stretch out like a starfish. The Jane that I once was, that girl is gone. All the dreams and hopes I had back then are ashes, and that means I need to build something else in their place. I’m still aching to get out west and find my momma, but that ain’t happening if I don’t survive today.
I’ve been living so long for the future that I haven’t been focusing on the now. And I ain’t sure I know how to change that.
The door to the sheriff’s office opens and Sheriff Redfern strides in, his expression grim. I climb up off the bunk and watch him warily as he unlocks the cell door and swings it wide.
“What’s this about, Redfern?” I ask before I take a step, because he seems to have his own agenda, and I don’t have time to puzzle out what it might be.
“You’re free to go. It seems that the good folks of Summerland have zero eye witnesses, and the council has decided to drop the charges.”
It’s good news, of course, having won my freedom without having to put a bullet in anyone, but a heavy disappointment fills my middle. I wish Katherine were here to celebrate my liberation with me, but I went and chased her off like a spoiled child screaming for a bigger piece of cake. I take a step out of the cell and stretch, working through myriad, conflicting emotions. “Well, then, Sheriff, looks like the system actually worked. Color me surprised.”
“I promised you that you wouldn’t hang,” he says, voice steady. His expression doesn’t change, not even an eyebrow twitch. Wordlessly, he goes to his desk and pulls out my weaponry, laying out an entire arsenal on the smooth wood. I strap it back on, piece by piece, watching Redfern the whole time. I feel a good deal better having all my edges back, and my relief at being on the right side of those jail bars makes me bold.
“You really don’t like me, do you?” I finally ask as I secure my sickles to my belt.
He sighs and props a hip on his desk. “Jane, it has nothing to do with not liking you. It’s knowing that somehow, someway, this is going to end badly for you. And there’s nothing I can do to stop it.”
I raise an eyebrow at him. “So we’re on a first-name basis, now?”
That raises a glimmer of a smile. “Our paths continue to cross in a way that feels like more than coincidence, and I’ve learned not to ignore patterns in my life. But I’m telling you this: you need to learn to watch your back.”
It ain’t the answer I’m expecting, and I rock back on my heels as I ponder his words. “How’s that?”
His lips thin. “I know your kind. I’ve seen what becomes of them.”
I cross my arms. “My kind?”
“The brave, the bold, those who would do the right thing rather than save their own skin.”
“How’re you going to make that sound like a bad thing?”
He shakes his head. “You aren’t listening. Like you, I went to a combat school, mostly Indian kids taken by a white family, the Redferns. They gathered us up from whatever place hadn’t been overrun by the dead. My first year there, most of my friends ran away, off into the nearby woods, anywhere to get away from that school.” He pauses to take a breath, as though the memory is too much to bear.
“You stayed, though?”
He shrugs. “I’ve always been practical. The school fed us and provided a measure of safety, and I had no idea where my people were or if they’d even survived the dead. This was during the Years of Discord. Whole towns disappeared overnight. I was scared, so I stayed.” He shakes his head. “I should have run like my friends, but I didn’t.”