“I expect you to coordinate with the cleaning staff,” Joseph says, as if reading my mind. “Every room spotless. Every guest well-supplied.” A wet speck of corn clings to his mustache, bobbing with every word.
“Of course, sir.”
“And you’ll keep clear of the parlor. Once the men settle, they’ll take their smoke and drink there.”
My mind catches on the words. I’ve dreamt of the wonder that settles over a gathering when the sky feels rich withdiscovery. Months of planning—menus, wine orders, letters. All of it to support an event I’m now forbidden to witness.
“Why must I keep clear?”
Joseph tears into his ham, loud and graceless. “You’d best keep watch over our patient. I won’t have any irregularities.”
I force a polite smile, tightening my hold on my fork. More than once, I’ve imagined driving it into his throat. But the cost would be too great.
“They’re not here for cards and whiskey. They’ll be speaking of the stars and?—”
“I said no.”
“One evening, Joseph. I’ve earned at least that much. What harm?—”
The crack of his hand silences me. My head jerks sideways, a burst of white flooding my vision, the sting sharp as a struck match. My fork clatters to the floor.
“Enough,” he says, and returns to his meal.
I sit, frozen. My fingers go numb around the edge of the table, every nerve strung tight as a harp. The scrape of his knife against the china fills the silence.
“Now,” he continues, “I’ve arranged for your patient to be moved after the guests have retired. You’ll accompany Lucas and ensure it’s done.”
I want to demand answers—who Arch is, why Joseph chains him like an animal.
But the metallic tang of blood in my mouth reminds me what questions cost.
Footstepson the porch announce Lucas and Gideon.
“Gideon, what are you doing here?”
“Mr. Sherman said he wanted an extra pair of hands to make sure there weren’t no mistakes.” He wears the pants I made him, gun strapped to his hip.
“Oh,” I say softly. “He’s upstairs. I’ll bring you to him.”
The lamp inside Arch’s room casts a pulsing golden glow. He sits at the edge of the bed where he’s been waiting, a low chuckle rising as we enter.
“They sent the whole cavalry, did they?”
Lucas squares his shoulders. “Mr. Sherman asked us to escort you to your new quarters. We don’t want any trouble.”
Arch quirks a brow. “Course not.”
Gideon steps forward with the key, hesitant. I glance at Arch, silently praying he’ll come quietly. Once freed, he rubs his wrist. Gideon shackles his ankles, the chain long enough to walk but too short to run.
“Come on then,” Lucas says.
We start down the path, Lucas and I on either side of him.
The night is cool, the cobblestones silvered by starlight. I glance up just as a brilliant streak tears across the darkness—another shooting star.
I stop without thinking, and the others follow my pause.
“You all right, Miss Alice?” Gideon asks.
