Dread Nation

by Justina Ireland

  “I did,” comes another voice. “You’re killing her Attendant, and she has a right to know that since the girl has been in her employ.”

  “Gideon, you are not the law in this town.” There’s tightness to the sheriff’s voice, but I’m too relieved that the whip has ceased its torment for the moment to analyze why he would even listen to Mr. Gideon in the first place.

  “Sheriff, it is said that the man who exercises compassion is the wisest of all. I’m urging you to be a wise man. It’s obvious that the girl won’t survive much more. And neither will this town. You’ve done enough.”

  “Gideon—”

  “Please, Sheriff,” Katherine pleads, a tremor in her voice. “Jane is a bit headstrong, but she is also an excellent companion. I’ve become fond of her, and I would be heartbroken if she were to come to any more harm. Please let her go. Show her mercy.”

  Behind me the sheriff sighs. “Miss Deveraux, you are a kind girl, but law and order must be upheld.”

  “‘And if a man smite his servant, or his maid, with a rod, and he die under his hand; he shall be surely punished.’ That’s Exodus, chapter twenty-one, verse twenty. I’m certain this isn’t what the good pastor meant to happen. There is no doubt that Jane broke the rules, as she is known to do from time to time. But she is suffering greatly, and as she’s my servant, my soul would bear the burden of her misfortune. Please, Sheriff,” Katherine says, her voice choked with emotion. I know without even looking at her that her face is probably streaked with tears, her light eyes too bright. “Have mercy.”

  There’s a pause, and the sound of my labored breath fills my ears, heartbeat keeping time to the seconds ticking by.

  After too long the sheriff says, “You are right, of course. Compassion is critical in a leader.”

  “Yes, Sheriff. No one doubts your word is law.”

  My hands are suddenly released, and when I try to stand I stumble. Katherine is there to help me, and when she turns me around two things strike me at once.

  The first is the sadness and anger warring on Mr. Gideon’s face as he watches me. His jaw is tight and his fists are clenched. Whether these emotions are about me being whipped or because he just don’t like the sheriff, I don’t know.

  The second thing that strikes me is the way the sheriff is looking in my direction. It’s a soft kind of look, the way one would watch a baby or a bunny, full of wonder and interest. At first I can’t figure why the man would look at me in such an indulgent way, but then I realize that he ain’t looking at me. He’s looking at Katherine.

  And just like that, the plan I’ve been struggling to come up with for weeks explodes in my brain like a stick of dynamite with a too-short fuse.

  Katherine half carries, half drags me past the assembled crowd. I lift my head just long enough to see Cora give me a smug look, and I know at that moment she’s the reason the sheriff caught me in the first place. The Duchess comes over, worry on her face.

  “You bring her to my room, I’ll help you get her cleaned up.”

  “Jane doesn’t belong in a whorehouse,” Katherine says, as muttonheaded as ever.

  “Her bosoms are hanging out for the world to see and she won’t make it to the proper side of town,” the Duchess snaps back.

  “She’s right,” Mr. Gideon says. “I’ll bring by some salve. Let the Duchess take her. You’re going to have to contend with Pastor Snyder.”

  Katherine sighs. “Fine. Take good care of her. I’ll be by later.”

  Then it’s just me and the Duchess and the endless walk to the whorehouse. Every movement sends agony singing across my back. My skin is hot and aching, and I fight to keep from sobbing. I ain’t successful, though.

  We enter the house of ill repute, heading straight for the Duchess’s room, which is on the first floor. She helps me sit on the edge of the bed, and I lean forward, resting my elbows on my knees, and groan.

  “Until Mr. Gideon comes by with his concoction, there ain’t much I can do for your . . .” She trails off.

  “Thank you.”

  “There’s no need for thanks. This is wrong. Everything about this place is wrong.” A slight brogue has appeared in the Duchess’s voice and when I glance up at her, tears stream freely down her cheeks.

  “Are you okay?” I ask.

  A bark of laughter escapes from her. “Here you are flayed within an inch of your life and you’re asking after me.”

  I sigh. “Sometimes it’s easier to think about other folks’ small hurts than your big ones.”

  She sits next to me on the bed, sniffling. “I was married before I came here. Leopold. He was the most beautiful man I’d ever seen, skin like it had been kissed by the night. We thought we’d be safe if we could just get far enough away.” Her gaze goes distant, her face twisted with the memory of some distant horror. “You can never get far enough away from people like the preacher.”

  I half laugh. “I suppose so. And the sheriff.”

  “The two of them are peas in a pod, but the sheriff is only following his daddy’s lead. He’s mean, but he isn’t smart enough to run this town on his own.”

  The uneven sound of boots on the wooden floor makes me raise my head, and Mr. Gideon stands in the doorway with a small pot of something and his eyes averted in deference to my modesty. Not that it much matters now. I reckon nearly all of Summerland had a chance to spy my bosoms had they cared to.

  “I shall take care of this,” the Duchess says, rising and plucking the jar of salve out of Mr. Gideon’s hand. Behind him stands Nessie, the colored girl who braided my hair, with a steaming bowl of water and a cloth.

  “Thought you might need this,” she says in a low voice. She sets the water on a nearby table.

  The small kindness warms. “Thank you,” I say. “Could I trouble you for a glass of water?”

  “Of course,” Nessie says before disappearing from the room, Mr. Gideon stepping aside to let her go.

  He clears his throat. “Jane, the sheriff has agreed to allow you a day of rest from your patrol. Katherine has asked him to give you back over to her supervision, but I’m not sure she’ll get her wish. It’s doubtful the preacher will allow it.” He hovers in the doorway uncertainly, and a glance at his face reveals a worried expression.

  “What’s wrong, tinkerer?” I ask, my voice rough from the pain of my back.

  “This isn’t right,” he says, as though he ain’t quite sure what else to say.

  The Duchess pushes the edges of my shirt aside and begins to clean my wounds. I can’t help but cry out in pain, eyes watering from the agony.

  “No, this ain’t right,” the Duchess finally says after a few heartbeats. I’m too befuddled from the whipping to think proper, my entire existence narrowing to the screaming of my back. “The question, Professor, is what exactly you plan to do about it?”

  From the doorway comes a heavy sigh. “I told you that patience is required for things like this.”

  “I’m running out of patience, Gideon. So is most everyone else. We’re starving. The Negroes are ill-treated, and there are undead within the boundaries. I know that pretty little lass of yours has been working on the men, but even a face as pretty as hers isn’t going to end all this suffering.”

  “I know this, Maeve. What can I do about it? What is there to do? What can be done that we haven’t tried before?”

  “The preacher is an unassailable mountain,” I mutter. “He relies on the sheriff to enforce his will. We need to get someone on our side in with him; someone who can control him. Someone who can help put the sheriff in a compromising position, one that he doesn’t anticipate, so we can use that opportunity to take him down.”

  The Duchess pauses in her ministrations. “We’ve tried that before. He beat the poor girl something fierce, nearly killed her,” she says, low enough that the tinkerer doesn’t hear.

  “Not sex—love,” I say, panting as the Duchess goes back to cleaning my wounds. “The sheriff is not a man laid low by something as ba
nal as carnal pleasures. But the sheriff is a man who knew love once, who fell for a good woman. That hole in his heart is the doorway to our freedom.”

  “So what exactly are you saying?” Mr. Gideon removes his glasses and wipes them clean.

  “You heard the sheriff out there with that nonsense about the Israelites. He really did come here for a better life, just like everyone else who got on a train by choice. The promise of something more. And what did he get in return? To watch the woman he loved get eaten. If we want to take down the sheriff, we need to dangle bait that he cannot resist. A woman who can give what he once had with his wife and who can help him elevate his social status. A girl of good breeding—that’s what the sheriff will fall for. He’s a man that pretends to greatness and at the same time aches for love. He would crumple under the attention of a true lady. And once he does, we get rid of him.”

  “You talking about murder?” the Duchess asks.

  “It ain’t murder if a man gets turned.”

  She snorts, dropping the rag into the bowl of water with a wet plop. “And I suppose you plan on dangling your companion on that hook.”

  “I saw how he was looking at her. He’s already half in love,” I say.

  “It’s not a bad idea,” Mr. Gideon says. I look up just long enough to take in his expression, his eyes sparking with intelligence, his lips pursed in thought. My heart flops like a trout on a riverbank.

  Here’s a thing about me: I have always been a complete and utter muttonhead for a clever boy, even when I’m half delirious with pain.

  “Yes,” I say, closing my eyes and sucking in a sharp breath as the Duchess uses a light touch to spread the salve over my back. “Just imagine if the sheriff knew all about Miss Deveraux’s tragic past.”

  “What tragic past?” Mr. Gideon asks.

  I swallow drily, and Nessie appears just then. She hands me the glass of water and I drink it down before I tell my tale. I’m counting on knowing Katherine. If I’m right, she hasn’t told anyone about where she came from, but rather distracted them with small talk. It’s been her modus operandi since I met her, and old habits die hard.

  “Did you know she is actually one of the Chesters, of Chester County, Virginia? She ended up in Baltimore nearly destitute because her stepmother is a dastardly woman.” The lie darn near spins itself. “Her father passed quite unexpectedly, and Miss Deveraux’s stepmother sent her up north to live with cousins. Only, her cousins were quite savagely attacked and murdered by the undead. Family by the name of Edgar. The mayor of Baltimore took pity on her and invited her to stay in his own house until she could contact her relatives. But, well, Old Blunderbuss took a shine to her, and the missus wasn’t about to have that. So here she is, the proverbial Moses in the basket.” The burning in my back settles into a steady throb, the salve the tinkerer brought actually helping.

  A strange look has come over Gideon’s face and his lips twitch as though he’s fighting back a smile. “That is quite a tale, Miss McKeene,” he says.

  “Weren’t no tale. It’s the God’s honest truth. Miss Deveraux is as tragic as poor Ophelia.”

  “Ophelia?” he asks.

  “Yes, from Hamlet. Ain’t you never read Shakespeare?”

  “Oh, I have. I’m just surprised you have.”

  “You shouldn’t jump to conclusions about people, Mr. Gideon. I contain multitudes.”

  Nessie slips out of the room as quietly as she appeared, and from the look on her face I know that the story of Katherine Deveraux will be on every drover’s lips by nightfall.

  The Duchess stands and shoos Gideon away. “You need to get going, so I can help Miss McKeene get presentable.”

  There’s a discreet cough from next to the door. “Of course, of course. Well, thank you for the information, Miss McKeene. I’m willing to bet that the sheriff would be horrified to discover how shoddily the world has treated a lady of Miss Deveraux’s caliber. He’ll want to see to her comfort personally, I’d wager.”

  Gideon’s uneven gait echoes down the hall, and after the door closes the Duchess stands over me. “Remind me never to play poker with you.”

  I allow myself a small smile before standing. The Duchess helps me to pull on a clean shirt. I ain’t sure that I can trust her, but there ain’t been much kindness since I got to Summerland, and I’ve yet to see the Duchess on the dispensing end of any cruelty. “Why you helping me, anyway? It can’t just be because of your long-lost love.”

  The small smile she wears is wiped from her face. “Let’s just say that I got some stains on my soul that I wouldn’t mind getting scrubbed clean.”

  “And you think helping a Negro girl is going to do that?”

  “I think being the kindest person I have the wherewithal to be is going to do that.”

  I nod and think of Lily. I hope she’s safe this morning. “Think you can get your hands on some laudanum?”

  The Duchess smirks. “Do shamblers have yellow eyes?”

  “We’re going to need some, the stronger the better. And a bottle of wine, the finest available in this place.”

  “How soon?” she asks as I finish getting dressed. I lie facedown on her bed, pillowing my head on my arms, completely drained in the aftermath of a hellish morning.

  “If everything goes as planned, soon. But let’s aim for the end of the month. Two weeks,” I say, before finally giving in to my exhaustion.

  Jane, please write back as soon as possible. I ache to hear about the escapades you are having in Maryland. Is it as refined as all of the papers would have us believe?

  Chapter 28

  In Which I Beg for Forgiveness

  I wake to Katherine yelling.

  “Jane McKeene, did you tell Mr. Gideon that I have been sent here because of a man’s jealous wife?”

  “Shh, there’s no need to yell.” I groan and attempt to get up, forgetting the trauma to my back until agony explodes across my skin. Firm hands push me back down.

  “Just lie there, there’s no need to move right now,” Katherine says, her words gentle but her tone still sharp. I settle back onto my stomach and Katherine climbs onto the bed next to me. She smells of lavender water, and it reminds me of my mother so much that I nearly hug her.

  “Jane,” Katherine says after a moment. She measures her words, trying not to lose her temper with me. “Why did you tell Mr. Gideon my secret? After I expressly forbade you to tell anyone?” Her words are still too loud, and I worry that someone might overhear.

  I open my mouth to explain and then pause. “What?”

  Katherine leans in close. “Jane McKeene, we have been acquainted long enough for me to know one of your plots when it comes knocking. There are about four of the Duchess’s girls pressed up against the door right now, listening in. Even now they’re memorizing all this to tell their customers later tonight. And no one gossips like men.”

  I grit my teeth. “You’re a lady, Miss Katherine. You shouldn’t even be here,” I say loud enough to be heard.

  “Feh. The sheriff is out of town on some business, and the preacher is giving his nightly sermon to the sinners of Summerland.” Her lips twist when she mentions Pastor Snyder, and she lowers her voice. “Anyway, I figured sneaking in here was worth the risk. What’s your plan?”

  “What makes you think I have a plan?” I ask.

  She gives me a bit of side-eye and I sigh. I shift and sit up, even though it hurts something fierce. “I don’t know what’s beyond the walls of Summerland, but it can’t be worse than what’s inside them. If we’re going to get out of here, we need to get rid of the sheriff. He has eyes everywhere, and not just his men, but folks on the patrol like Cora, too, and who knows who else—there’s no way we’re getting free while he’s in charge. Which means we have to get close to him, compromise him. And he’s much too careful for anyone else to do it, so . . . it’s up to you. We need him to fall in love with you.”

  “Absolutely not! I will not compromise myself for that man.”

&
nbsp; Under the indignant anger, I can tell Katherine is close to tears. These last few weeks must have been just as hard on her as they were on me. It’s clear from her voice what she thought I was asking of her, and I swallow hard. Katherine ain’t got no reason to believe that I wouldn’t ask such a thing of her, and it makes me feel ugly to know that she thinks I would. I haven’t always been the best to Katherine, and being trapped in this awful place reminds me of that. I reach out and take her hand, squeezing it. “I ain’t asking you to give yourself to him, Kate. I might be coarse, but I ain’t a monster.”

  Katherine says nothing for a long time, and when she finally does speak her words are choked with emotion. “Good. Because I won’t barter my body for your freedom, Jane, nor mine.”

  “No, and you won’t have to. You just need to get close to him, drug him, and leave the rest to me. Then we’ll liberate ourselves and hightail it out of here.”

  “What about everyone else?”

  “What about them?”

  “We cannot just hightail it out of here and leave everyone to that man’s nonexistent mercy, Jane!” Katherine is whispering much too loud, and I shush her. This is most definitely not part of her act. I could tell her there won’t be a sheriff left when I’m done, but I doubt she’d go along with the plan if she thought it was predicated on unsavory business.

  “Keep your voice down! Like you said, walls have ears and all. I already figured we’d take whoever wanted to go with us. That’s the best I can offer.”

  “That’s not good enough,” Katherine says, her voice low. “What about Lily and the Spencers? What about Jackson?”

  “Jackson is dead,” I say, my voice flat.

  Katherine jerks as though she’s been slapped. “Well, when were you going to share that little revelation?” Her voice is hollow, and I hate her for feeling anything for Jackson at all. Even with him gone, I still think of him as mine. What a stupid, selfish girl I am.