Dread Nation (Dread Nation #1)(84)
“What are you going to do?”
“For now, the same. Tomorrow I’m going to implore the good doctor for some laudanum.” Katherine arches a brow at me. “You know, for your lady problems.”
“Jane . . .”
“Look, I’ve got plans, and it isn’t just stealing some supplies and hoping I can make it to the Mississippi River and hitch a ride south, like Jackson. I told you before, that boy is all impulse.”
“And what plan is this?”
Quickly I fill Katherine in on how I’d planned on dosing the sheriff.
“Jane, that’s thoroughly dishonorable!”
“I ain’t planning on killing the man, just turning him shambler.” Of course, I’m going to kill him after. Nuance is important, that’s what I always say.
Katherine disagrees. “You turning him into a monster is just the same as murdering him, Jane.”
“Not if he’s already a monster.”
Katherine sighs. “I want to be rid of him as much as you, but—”
“Yeah, you tell me that after he’s taken the lash to your back,” I snap, the fear and pain and humiliation of the memory rising up quick and sharp. Katherine falls silent, her expression troubled. I sigh. “I’d have no problem putting a bullet in the man in a duel, Katherine. But there’s no way we’d make it beyond the berm if I do that. He ain’t a good person, and I ain’t pretending like he deserves to live. Think about the way he’s starving most of the Negroes and drovers in town while he and his boys and all the good white folks stay fat. Summerland was supposed to be about a better life for all, but it’s worse here than it was in Baltimore. Do you think that’s the word of a good person?”
“But that’s the point, Jane. If you kill him, that makes you no better than he is.”
“I’m okay with that.”
Footsteps outside on the porch silence whatever else Katherine was going to say. She gives me a wide-eyed look of alarm. “I don’t think I can handle any more company today.”
“Well then, it’s a fine thing that you have an Attendant to handle it for you, ain’t it?” I jump up from the bed, closing the door to the bedroom behind me. I don’t bother stopping, just go straight to the door and yank it open.
Mr. Gideon is on the other side, hand poised to knock. He startles as he looks at me, adjusting his spectacles before doffing his hat in a lovely display of manners that I’ve seen men lavish on white ladies, but I sure ain’t used to. The movement draws my attention to his fetching eyes and the fullness of his lips, and a flutter starts up somewhere low in my belly. Katherine’s words about the way I look at him ring like a fire bell in my head.
Lordy, I hope this foolishness is due to my having missed lunch. Ain’t nothing good going to come from losing my head over the tinkerer.
“Miss McKeene,” he says.
“Mr. Gideon. I’m sorry, but Miss Katherine is indisposed.” I put a bit of a drawl in my voice, stressing the natural cadence of my words. Hopefully he won’t hear the lie in them. For some mysterious reason I find it difficult to lie to the tinkerer. Perhaps because I get the distinct feeling that he sees through each and every one.
His brows draw together slightly. “Oh, I do hope she’s okay?”
“Oh, yes, she’s just feeling a mite dizzy because of the heat. Was there something I could help you with?”
“Well, perhaps, but I’d rather wait to discuss it when both of you are present. I know I’m being terribly forward, but would you and Miss Deveraux consider joining me for the noon meal tomorrow?”
“That’s a fine idea,” I answer before I’ve properly thought through why I’m so eager for the tinkerer’s company.
His expression brightens, and he dons his hat once more, settling the bowler into place. “Fantastic. I’ll come by tomorrow at noon to escort Miss Deveraux to the lab. Sheriff Snyder said that he is in the process of refortifying the town’s defenses in the wake of an unanticipated shambler pack pressing against the eastern wall, and it’s all for the better that Miss Deveraux remains in her rooms until the problem has been rectified.”
“Of course, Mr. Gideon. I wouldn’t want Miss Katherine to come to any harm.” There’s a hidden warning in his voice, and I sense that he knows more about the current dangers in Summerland than he’s letting on.
He strolls off and I watch him go, his limp more pronounced than usual.
As I close the door, I worry that he’s pressing himself too hard, and just that little bit of concern is enough to make me realize that I’m in a heap of trouble.
My heart ain’t never going to be safe.
I will not tell you that I am not worried about you. That would be an outright lie. These are dark times we live in, and it is only by keeping our wits about ourselves that we can truly survive.
Chapter 32
In Which I Am Invited to a Battle
Word of Katherine not feeling well gets around quicker than a brush fire in August. A few minutes after I speak with Mr. Gideon, a few roughnecks come by with a basket of blackberries that they found out along the creek, like some fruit is going to cure whatever ails her. I smile and thank them before closing the door, firmly refusing them entry. They’re followed by another group of men, this time with a handful of wild onions and another with a rabbit, cleaned and ready to be cooked. By the time all of the shifts have returned, Katherine and I have the makings of a rather fine meal, and even though it’s far too hot to stoke a fire in the hearth, I do it anyway, roasting the rabbit along with the onions over patties that thankfully smell more like grass than anything else.