Now he leads me down the hall, all puffed up ’cause the law deputized him important. He opens up a door to a small office, stacks of files piled up high. Smell of coffee makes my stomach tug. Alice brewed a fine cup.
Don’t make no sense how fast that thought tries to choke me where I stand. Blight, I am, poisoned the purest thing I’d ever known. Now I got some pole-thin penny lawyer standing at attention, ascot round his neck, hair slicked back with silver streaks at the sides.
“Mr. Randolph,” he says, extending a hand. I look at it and back at him like I’d sooner wipe my ass with a cactus than shake his hand. He draws it back, swallowing hard. “Right. Please have a seat.”
He pulls out my chair like he’s courting me and skitters around to the other side. If I had a chance in the dark of getting free, I’d watch it burst into flames in this bastard’s hands.
He sits, clearing his throat. There’s a stack of papers on the table in front of him, and he looks ’em over.
“Mr. Randolph, my name is Henry Wallace, Esquire. The court has appointed me to aid in your defense, as is your right,” he says. “You’ve been accused of one count of kidnapping and carrying away of a citizen across state lines against her will. Five counts of murder in the first degree.” He flips a page. “One count of train robbery, said robbery being committed against the mail and passengers in transit. One count of willfully derailing a train. Destruction of railroad property. Horse theft, arson, and escape from lawful custody.”
He pauses to take a breath, then clicks his tongue.
“Assault upon a law officer, and two charges of attempted murder on survivors. That’s the whole bill, as the grand jury handed it down.”
“Guilty as charged,” I say.
He nods like I just told him I was born on the moon.
None of this matters a lick to me, so I ask the only thing worth knowing. “Alice. You know if she’s all right?”
He blinks, pen frozen. “I’m sorry… Alice?”
“Alice.” I lean forward, wrists on the table.
He flips through his papers for a clue. “I don’t believe I’m familiar with anyone by that name.”
The room shrinks. For a second I don’t hear the jail, don’t smell the coffee, don’t see his stupid ascot. Just the sound of my knuckles cracking.
“She’s the woman you’re saying I kidnapped,” I growl.
“Sir, I-I’m just your attorney. I have no knowledge of?—”
My chair scrapes back, hands curl on the edge of the table. One hard move, and the law would have a reason to make this hanging quicker.
“Mr. Randolph,” he says, voice high now, “I’m only here to?—”
I shut my eyes, counting slow.
Chapter 32
ALICE
Bear and I lie in our bunk. The groan of the ship keeps time along the passing hours. His chest rises and falls against my back, one arm slung heavy across my waist. “Texas is wide,” he says, his breath warm against my neck. “Plenty of land to claim. A haul like this will set us up right. Build a house somewhere nice. Quiet.”
“With cattle?”
“With cattle. Or hogs.”
“We can have both.”
“And chickens,” he adds. “Live off the land.”
“That would be nice. But we need to make it off this ship first.”
“We’ll make it off this ship,” he says. There’s no doubt in his voice. His arms tighten around my middle.
I shift to face him, the wood beneath us creaking. The lantern in our tiny room casts just enough light to catch his features—the stubble that roughens his jaw, the pale scar that splits his eyebrow, his eyes—gold, green, something in between. One of them has a fleck in it, like an ember.
