Jackson and Lily head out into the prairie to see if they can scare up a rabbit for dinner. The Duchess sets to stoking a fire in a long-disused hearth inside the cabin, tiny Thomas at her side, while Sallie and Nessie unhook the horse from the wagon and set him to grazing in a fenced area that looks to be built for just such a thing, complete with a wooden trough they fill using a bucket found in the cabin. That leaves Katherine and me to keep watch in the gloaming, and we perch on a couple of empty wooden crates we find on what would’ve served as the porch.
“Jane, I think the wounds on your back have opened again,” Katherine says after a few moments. Her voice is low and her words are careful, but I already know she’s right. There was never any doubt that I’d carry a reminder of Sheriff Snyder’s lashes, but at this rate I’ll be lucky not to get an infection. My dress tugs and pulls at the welts on my back, and even though I’ve been mostly ignoring the pain, the hotness lets me know I’ve let it go too far.
“Well, at least I’m alive,” I say with a sigh, trying to push aside my fear and worry.
“Let me see to them, Jane. We can at least clean them up.” Her tone is gentle, and it makes me want to laugh. If anyone had told me six months ago I’d be mixing it up like this with Katherine Deveraux I would’ve punched them in the mouth and called them a fool. Guess the only fool here is me. I nod, and Katherine disappears and returns with a bucket. She slices off another piece of her garments and gently dabs at my back.
“If you’re not careful, you ain’t going to have but four petticoats left,” I say.
“Jane McKeene, you know full well I am wearing only two petticoats. It is far too hot for more than that.” She winks at me, and I can’t help but smile.
We sit in companionable silence for a few moments before Katherine clears her throat. “Are you sure you do not want to talk about Jackson? Because I cannot help but—”
“Why the hell would I want to talk about him?” I ask, deciding anger is an easier emotion to cling to at the moment than despair.
Besides, Katherine ain’t going to be able to answer the only question I have at this moment: Why? Why ain’t I good enough? For him, or for anyone? Because everyone sets me aside, sooner or later. My momma, who tried to drown me when I was little even though I loved her more than the moon and stars. Aunt Aggie, who urged me to go with the school officers when they came calling for kids for the combat schools. And now Jackson. Everyone I’ve ever loved has pushed me away, in one way or another, and I ain’t keen on rehashing a lifetime of angst with the one person who might give a fig about me now.
Best she find out how unlovable I am in her own good time.
Katherine mercifully doesn’t press me; she throws the bloody rag back in the bucket and gestures at me to button my dress up. “The sheriff, then? You have had quite the emotional shock today, and killing a living person is no small thing. There is a toll it takes on the mind and the soul, and I worry that after all we have been through . . .” She trails off, her words as delicate as her touch.
But kindness ain’t what I need right now. I stand, my body smarting, my belly aching, and sigh. “I’m fine, Kate. Besides, we got bigger problems. What are we going to do once we get to Nicodemus? Jackson told us before that the rest of Miss Preston’s girls ended up there after escaping Baltimore, but you and I both know that no town is safe for long.”
Katherine shakes her head. “I do not think we should make any decisions until we can take the measure of the town for ourselves. It is clear that Jackson and Sallie have their reasons for not wanting to go there, but survival is the thing that matters now, and I think the only people we can trust are one another. You urged me to have patience back in Summerland, and I think that is the proper course of action here as well. After all, a cautious and cool head is the hallmark of a Miss Preston’s girl.”
A rustling comes from the edge of the grass, and both Katherine and I jump to our feet, she readying her Mollies—short swords with a blade the length of my forearm—and me pulling my revolver, leaving my sickles in their holders. It wouldn’t be the first time either of us have seen the dead crawling along looking for a meal, legs too broken or ruined to walk properly.
But it’s a rabbit that bursts out, zigzagging toward us. I don’t hesitate. My first shot misses, but the second hits, the small body flopping dramatically as it dies.
“Jane!” Katherine gives me a look of wide-eyed horror.
“What?” I ask. I gesture at the prone form with the barrel of the gun, which still smokes. “That’s dinner.”
She shakes her head again. “The way you go off pulling that thing out at a moment’s notice, I swear . . .” She trails off and walks over to grab the rabbit, holding it up by the ears. There’s another rustling sound, but this time it’s Jackson and Lily, their silhouettes clear with the bright of the setting sun lighting them from behind. They come walking out of the tall grass at the far edge of the property, Lily clutching her shotgun with a grin.
“We got two of them,” she announces.
“You mean I got two of them,” Jackson says, his voice warm with affection. “You need to work on your trigger pull.”
“Jane also got one, and if you had arrived a few seconds earlier she probably would have plugged you full of holes as well.” Katherine sniffs.
“Pffft. I know the difference between a girl and a rabbit,” I say.
Katherine looks meaningfully at me and then Jackson, and gives the group of us her best smile, before she gestures to Lily. “Come along, let us get these dressed so the Madam can cook them.”
“She likes to be called the Duchess,” I say.
Katherine huffs. “That is not a name,” she tosses over her shoulder as she and Lily round the corner of the house, heading to the pump. It ain’t until they’re gone that I realize I’m all alone with Jackson.
Dammit.
He must be feeling the same thing I am, because he takes off his hat and draws a breath. “Don’t start.”
“Start what?” I ask, even though I want to pummel him until the story of how he got hitched falls out.
“Playing inquisitor. You got that look, Jane, and I’m tired. Our course is apparently set for Nicodemus, despite my recommendation, and there’s still a long way to go before we get there.”
“So that’s how it’s going to be?” I ask.
“Seems like. You’re the one who wanted me to make a pretty speech while we were running for our lives. You’re always thinking of yourself and never the people around you.”
I want to hit him so badly that I can taste it. “That’s pretty rich coming from a liar.”
“You know what, Jane? I ain’t got time for this backbiting anymore.”
“Fine, then . . . congratulations on your nuptials.” There’s no legitimate goodwill in my tone, I’m far too angry for that. I think of a million things I could say, how I could provoke him into having the argument I want to have, but then I realize it doesn’t matter. None of this does. I’ve already lost him, and I’m a fool for never even noticing the game was finished. “I really mean it, Jackson. I hope you find your wife.”
He gives me a sidelong glance, like he doesn’t quite believe I’m sincere. “You expecting me to believe you?”