Page 10 of In These Hills

“It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Poyner. And thank you again. I’m indebted to you.”

“No, ma’am, you’re not. God has met me in my need far more times than I can count, and this is my way of thanking him. So if you owe anyone, it’s the good Lord.” He joined the fray of passengers on the platform, and she followed, feeling somehow smaller in light of his statement.

As the brass band launched into “The Stars and Stripes Forever,” she stuck close, her head down, intent on not being discovered by the authorities while also wishing to avoid eye contact with passersby. Though of far lesser concern, the attention her injuries drew and the way some people looked at her now—with such distaste and disgust, almost as though she had done something to deserve the marks on her face—filled her with shame. And for something that was neither her fault nor her choice.

They pushed through the crowd and headed around the side of the station. Twice, other passengers managed to cut between them. In desperation, Josephine finally grabbed the back of Mr. Poyner’s suit coat and held tight. If he minded or found it shocking, he didn’t show it.

As sunlight broke through the gray cloud cover, the band played on, the crowd clapping and laughing at the upbeat melody, children dancing and clutching striped paper cones filled with sugary strands of fairy floss, their faces a blur of sticky grins.

Mr. Poyner came to an abrupt stop. “Turn around. Quick!”

Josephine instinctively looked up—and locked eyes with a man whose gaze seemed to home in on hers. Warning shot through her, and she spun and headed in the opposite direction.

“Josephine Dunham!” a man’s voice boomed.

A chill skittered up her spine. But she didn’t dare look back.

Just inside the door of the train station, Mr. Poyner shoved a suitcase into her hand. “A woman traveling without a bag doesn’t look natural.”

“But it’s not mine. I can’t—”

“I’ll find you and get it back. Just make it outside. Find a place to hide. And keep watch for me.”

Josephine pushed through the throng. “Excuse me, please. Excuse me.” She set her sights on the exit doors ahead when her senses shot to full alert.

Men were stationed at each of the exits. None uniformed or wearing badges that she could see. But they were scanning the crowd just the same. Was that normal? Instinct told her no.

Forcing deep breaths, she saw a family with four young girls only feet in front of her and quickly maneuvered toward them. She followed closely, but not too closely, hoping anyone watching would assume her to be their nanny. The queue narrowed and slowed as they approached the exit. Fear knotted her throat.

Josephine fixed her attention on the two younger girls as though intent on keeping them corralled with their parents. Not until she cleared the doors and had exited the station did her pulse begin to return to—

“You there, ma’am. Stop! Ma’am!”

Tempted to run, she quickened her stride until a firm touch on her shoulder brought her up short.

4

A MAN TOWERED OVER HER and the keenness in his eyes siphoned the air from her lungs.

“You sure seem anxious to get out of there, ma’am. Did you not hear me calling after you?”

Josephine tried to respond, but nothing came out at first. “I-I’m sorry. I’m not overly fond of crowds.”

“Then I guess you’re in the wrong place today, aren’t you?”

Her mouth went dry. They had her, and she knew it. Sarah was right. Mayor Darden would sentence her to prison and she’d never get out.

The man held something out. “I’m pretty sure one of your charges dropped this back there. My guess is she’ll be missing it soon enough.”

In his hand was a little rag doll, and Josephine’s breath left in a rush. “Yes. Yes, she certainly will. Thank you, sir.”

“You bet, ma’am. You take care of yourself now.”

The unmistakable sympathy in his tone might have touched her if he hadn’t just frightened her out of her wits. Not looking back, she stuffed the rag doll in her coat pocket and put distance between herself and the station. On the street, she searched for the family but they were gone.

Gray clouds conspired to mask the sun again as a chilly wind knifed through her thin coat. She tugged her collar higher, thinking of Sarah and hoping she was safe.

Suitcase in hand, Josephine scanned the busy thoroughfare for a place to hide while still watching the train station. A haberdashery and general mercantile stood directly across the street, both crowded, as was a bakery whose warm bread made her long even for stale saltines from a cracker barrel. Then she spotted the tack shop near the livery.