Juliet nods; Louisa studies Jane with a shrewd look. “So you didn’t chop off those people’s heads?” she asks.
Jane’s grin fades, and the look she gives Louisa is flat and cold, like a rattlesnake turning its regard on a mouse. “Oh, I did. I suppose folks will say it’s because I was aiming to make a point, but the reality is it was just more expedient. There were a few of those O’Reilly brothers, and it takes a long time for me to reload.” Jane waves her shorter left arm to make the point. “I did shoot the last one, but only after he answered a few questions I had for him. I also gave them a bit of payback for the misery they visited upon the Turners.”
I think back to the knife wounds on the man from the night before and my blood goes cold.
I do not know this woman.
Jane gestures at the coffeepot near the fire, like she has not just confessed to torturing and murdering a group of men. “Might I grab a bit?”
Neither Louisa nor Juliet move or speak, they are that terrified of the bounty hunter before them. I hand Juliet back her paper and grab the pot of coffee. “The thing you will learn about Jane is that she is ever so expedient when it comes to ending a conflict.”
Jane glares at me as I pour the coffee. “Don’t do that.”
“Do what?”
“Bright side.” She takes the coffee and takes a drink before continuing. “You try to make things seem like they’re better than they are.”
My mouth falls open in surprise at the casual cruelty, but Jane is no longer paying attention to me. Instead, she has crouched down between Juliet and Louisa.
“Now, to business. The good doctor who is amongst your charges has been kind enough to offer conveyance for the bounty I ran down in the night; in return, I’ll keep this wagon train and everyone in it safe from any man or creature that would see to cause them harm. I know you don’t know me from Adam. But I can tell you this: I was trained in combat at Miss Preston’s and my skills have only been sharpened in my long trek from Kansas to California. I’ve worked wagon train security before, and I am damn good at it.”
“That’s madness,” Louisa says. “No one can make that trip overland and live to tell about it.”
Jane smirks and takes a sip of her coffee. “Ah, that’s one of my primary qualifications. I’m very difficult to kill.”
“If that’s so, how’d you come to lose your arm?” Juliet asks.
“Shambler bit it,” Jane says.
The air whooshes out of my lungs. I have no idea what game she is playing; I do not know the rules, and I am not even certain I understand the goal. Dread begins to wash over me. I have felt many things around Jane McKeene, but fear has never been one of them. It is not a sensation I like.
“Which is the other skill I bring to this outfit: I’m immune. It’s not only that I won’t turn if bitten; shamblers won’t even attack me. I’m guessing you can see how that would be useful.”
Louisa gives Juliet a look and turns back to Jane. “You cannot be serious.”
“As a heart attack, I’m afraid.”
“I’ve heard that Negroes have been known to be resistant to a shambler’s bite, but I had no idea—”
“I’ll stop you there,” Jane says, and her temper flares, just for a moment, though it just as quickly settles. “That old overseer’s tale about Negroes being immune is a bunch of hogwash. My immunity comes courtesy of a science experiment gone wrong. In fact, that is the reason I need to get to Sacramento. I have business there in connection with said scientist. So I will be heading that way regardless of your employment. This is your opportunity.”
Louisa looks to Juliet once more and shrugs. “Miss Preston’s,” she says. “I can’t say you don’t come with premium credentials.”
“Carolina told me you were able to draw down on your bounty in the dark and in less than a heartbeat,” Juliet says. “We could always use a decent shot.”
“Six rounds, pistol only,” Jane says, standing. “I’m no good with a rifle, and I like to look people in the eyes as I kill them, just so they get the courtesy of knowing who it was that did them in. I charge four dollars a day plus vittles for me and my boy, and I’m only going to stick with you until Sacramento. Like I said, I have my own business to attend to once we get to the city.”
“And what is that?” I ask, my temper at her indifference getting the better of me. “What is this business you have in Sacramento?”
She finally looks at me, and I would swear that I feel an icy wind blow through the camp. “I’m fixing to kill Gideon Carr,” she says, and I half believe she actually might have gone and gotten hitched to Satan himself. “Good seeing you again, Katherine.”
As she walks away, Juliet and Louisa shake their heads.
“Damn,” Juliet says, voice low.
“I know,” Louisa answers, fanning her flushed face. “I’ve half a mind to court her.”
The two women share a laugh, but I’m too busy watching Jane walk away and thinking how she has not called me Kate once since we have reunited.
I cannot help but wonder if there is anything of my old friend left.
How many men has the Devil’s Bride killed? One sheriff I spoke to in Carson City said he knew of at least ten men. “She’s quick and she’s efficient, even if she’s only got the one arm. Anyone fool enough to find themselves on a wanted poster should pray they meet the devil instead of his erstwhile bride.”
—Western Tales, Volume 23
—JANE—
Chapter 35
In Which I Respond to an Inquiry
Tomás is less than thrilled to discover that we’ll be traveling with the wagon train to Sacramento. “Miss Jane, everyone speaks English here! There’s nothing for me to translate.”
“That’s all right,” I say.
“But, how am I supposed to earn my keep if I don’t have a job?” he whispers, and the look of naked fear on his face makes my heart twist. I stomp the emotion flat.
“I still need a helper, and you can be my assistant, got it?”
“Do I get a gun?”
I swallow my laugh and shake my head. “No, but you get Salty. You know this pup was trained to sniff out the dead, right? So you and Salty are going to work like an early-warning alarm. It’s a dangerous job. Think you’re up to it?”
He nods, his heartbroken expression melting away into one of excitement. “We’ll be the best casimuertos lookouts, ever.” He yells something to Salty in Spanish and takes off for the front of the wagon train, the dog running after with happy barks.
Fortunately, with the dead so few and far between out here, I ain’t got to worry about the poor boy getting in over his head with some shamblers. Besides, we ain’t going to have much more time together one way or another. Sacramento is going to be the end of the line for me and Tomás. It ain’t like I can take the boy with me to kill Gideon Carr. I’m sure they got orphanages in a city like that.
I recheck my weapons before doing a quick head count as the train gets ready to move. Nigh about 150 people, and only twelve wagons carrying them. The group Callie and I traveled with from Carson City to Los Angeles wasn’t much larger than this, but it had four times as many hired guns as Louisa and Juliet have assembled here. I know people believe California is safer because the dead ain’t as much of a threat, but the truth is it’s easy enough to die from an ambush by living folk, not just the restless dead, and there ain’t enough people carrying guns to protect this group if we’re set upon. Though, now that I think about it, that doesn’t surprise me. Even here in the grand and glorious west it’s surprisingly hard for a Negro to come by a talking iron. Most places have laws against Negroes bearing arms, and it’s hard to find a gunsmith willing to sell to colored folks in places that don’t. The Californios might be a little less picky about where their money comes from, but most of them ain’t going out of their way to help a Negro. California is just as mean a place as the rest of this thrice-cursed land.