Page 148 of In These Hills

“This ain’t right,” Calla said, removing a fresh skirt and blouse from the hook by Josephine’s bed.

Miss Mary’s jaw tightened. “Not right at all. But I can’t think of a thing to do to stop it.”

Not until after Josephine was almost dressed did she notice that the skirt and blouse Calla had chosen were the ones she’d worn the day she’d fled Atlanta. But she said nothing. Somehow it seemed fitting.

As she glanced in the mirror at her reflection, she felt like she was looking at the same woman who had arrived here scarcely a month earlier. A darkening bruise on her lower jaw, fear and pain in her eyes, and the lingering traces of Clay Darden’s first attack. And yet she felt different inside. This place, these people, had changed her. Forever.

Though she couldn’t quite define it, she felt somehow less . . . estranged from God. Like the formidable wall erected between them was somehow less so. More lathe and plaster now than stone and mortar. If only the Almighty would see fit to give her one of those nudges Todd had told her about. Then again, she wasn’t Todd.

“Is this your doll here on the windowsill?” Miss Mary asked.

Josephine glanced back. “No, it’s something I found on the way here. I don’t need it.”

Miss Mary held it for a second, then put it back.

In the darkened walkway outside the cabin, the warm night air carried the faint scent of smoke. Near the stairs leading to the upper deck, Dodge and Mr. Daniel waited. As did Sheriff Rigby and the deputy.

The deputy eagerly stepped forward, handcuffs open.

“Oh, no.” Calla held out a hand. “You can put them things away right now, son. That’s not happening, you hear me?”

Calla stared him down until the sheriff finally nodded. The deputy backed away.

“Sheriff Rigby—” Mr. Daniel’s tone held conciliation. “Dodge and I would like to accompany you as you escort Miss Dunham to the jail, if we may.”

“Just stay out of my way. You make trouble—” His focus went to Dodge. “I’ll make trouble back.”

Miss Mary hugged her first, then Calla, and both times she didn’t want to let go. “Thank you both,” she whispered, “for opening your hearts to me. And your home.”

She attempted to keep pace with Sheriff Rigby and his deputy, but couldn’t. Her lower back ached, and she broke out in a sweat. Finally, to their credit, they slowed down. The jail came into view, and it all felt like a horrible dream.

“May I have a moment with Miss Dunham?” Dodge asked when they were nearly to the door.

“You may not.” Sheriff Rigby took her by the arm and urged her forward. “And try to come in? I’ll arrest you. Don’t believe me, just ask Mr. Daniel.”

Right before the door closed, its hinges creaking in protest, Josephine looked back. Though darkness hid Dodge’s face, his stance bristled with defiance.

“I’ll be back in the morning,” he called out. “I’ll be here at sunup.”

And she believed him, even knowing it wouldn’t change her fate.

Later, curled on her side atop the foul-smelling, threadbare mattress in the cold, stone cell, her palm and lower back aching, she realized Mayor Darden’s justice hadn’t merely found her. It had won.

58

“GET UP!”

Josephine heard the voice from far away, but resisted. Even half asleep, she remembered what awaited. No single dose of laudanum could numb that dread.

“Miss Dunham!” The gruff voice grew louder, then a hard shove to her shoulder.

Wincing, she struggled to sit, her back and shoulder muscles screaming. She dragged her gaze to the barred window high on the wall, every movement requiring more calculation, her body slower to obey every command. It was still dark outside.

“Get up. Now. We’re leaving.”

She blinked. “It’s not sunup yet.”

“Don’t matter. Sheriff says we’re leaving now.”