Dread Nation (Dread Nation #1)(78)
“Thank goodness you got here when you did. I was about to wield my parasol,” Katherine says, scowling.
“I would think a Miss Preston’s girl would know better than to let herself get so hopelessly outnumbered.”
“I’m a lady, Jane. I would never turn my hand to violence; that is what my Attendant is for. Besides, as long as I am trapped in this godforsaken place I will have to do all my dealings in the currency of besotted idiots. What would you have me do, alienate the entire town? It is not as though I have a fortune at my disposal. I must be charming no matter the predicament.” She snaps open her parasol and gives me a haughty look over her shoulder. I can’t decide if she’s brilliant or utterly insane. She’s playing the role of debutante so well that I’m wondering if maybe Katherine ain’t really the daughter of some long-lost princess. It would explain quite a bit.
She sniffs, and gestures toward the boardwalk. “Now, let us go call upon the sheriff. I believe he might have something for us. Try to look contrite, would you?”
I give Katherine my best puppy-dog look, but she only rolls her eyes heavenward before marching out smartly across the dusty lane.
I have to run to open the door for Katherine, she’s set such a frightful pace. She sails into the sheriff’s office unannounced, like she owns the place. The bastard sheriff and his boys are guffawing at something, and an ugly emotion rises up in my chest—part rage, part indignation, mostly bloodlust. What he did to me, what he’s most likely done to others before me . . . My vision goes dark as I imagine taking my fists to the sheriff’s face, pounding away until it loses shape and resembles nothing more than a mound of meat. I blink quickly, clearing the savage vision, a sick feeling settling in my middle.
There is nothing I want more right now than to kill Sheriff Snyder. Not my freedom, not to return to Rose Hill, nothing. Just the sheriff, on the ground, his lifeblood seeping into the boards.
The strength of my rage is terrifying. It’s all I can do to swallow my fear and anger as the men jump to their feet at Katherine’s presence, as if they have some sense of civility.
“Miss Deveraux,” the sheriff says, tipping his hat. His gaze barely flickers over me, and I keep my eyes downcast so he won’t see how much I’d like to stab him in the heart with my rusty cavalry sword.
“Sheriff, I have a request to make of you.”
“Well now, I reckon you been doing a lot of that lately.” There’s bemusement and affection in the sheriff’s voice but no anger, and I’m relieved to know that I didn’t misread his fondness for Katherine. It’s a sad thing, but there are few men that can’t be softened by a pretty face. For the first time I can remember I’m thankful that Katherine is fetching enough for two girls.
“My girl needs a better weapon than this woeful sword, something more befitting an Attendant. I was hoping we could have your leave to procure some proper weapons for her.”
The sheriff strokes his yellow mustache as he thinks, and I fight to keep the excitement from my face. A genuine weapon would be more than I’ve been hoping for. Not that I couldn’t kill the sheriff properly with my cavalry sword, or my bare hands if it came to it.
“You want me to give your darkie a gun?” the sheriff says with a smirk. His gaze is heavy on me, waiting for a reaction, a flash of indignation or anger. But I am playing the role of a faithful Attendant, so I school my expression to blankness. Luckily his eyes are on me, so he misses the anger that flashes across Katherine’s face before she smiles politely.
“Of course not, Sheriff. Jane is terrible with a rifle. I was thinking more along the lines of the sickle, a weapon designed specifically for the close-combat techniques of an Attendant.”
Sheriff Snyder’s smile fades and he nods. “Hold on a moment, I think I got something.” He disappears into a room off the side and returns with a pair of sickles.
My sickles. My much-loved and much-used sickles.
“That man Redfern left these behind. If you think they’d be useful, your girl can have them.”
Katherine inclines her head regally. “Thank you, Sheriff. And as soon as I am able to reach my uncle by telegram, I am sure he will tell me how happy he would be to repay your generosity.”
“Not necessary.” The sheriff approaches Katherine, reaching around her to offer me the sickles. He’s closer than would be considered decent by any standard, but Katherine doesn’t step backward. “Would you privilege me with a moment of your time?”
“Of course, it would be a pleasure.” Katherine’s smile reveals none of the discomfort that emanates from her. Maybe the sheriff doesn’t notice how she’s shifted her weight back, putting a few more inches of space between the two of them, but I do. I’ve known Katherine for a long time, and the last thing she wants to do is spend another moment in the sheriff’s presence.
But this is the role that I’ve asked her to play, and Katherine is not one to back down from what’s required of her. She’s a much better person than I am.
I take my sickles from the sheriff, then open the door. Katherine exits, the sheriff close behind. I’m about to follow when from behind me one of the men calls out.
“How’s that back of yours?”
It takes every bit of discipline I have to keep walking, to not look back. Mocking laughter follows me as I leave the building, hurrying after the sheriff and Katherine.