Page 4 of In These Hills

The young man listed to one side. His eyes rolled back into his head. Then he went limp and slumped on top of her.

Sarah dropped to her knees beside them. “Finny girl, are you hurt? Oh, dear lass . . . your face.”

“Get him off me!”

His body heavier than she would have imagined, they managed to roll him off and onto his back. Blood poured from the gash at his temple.

“Oh Finny, do you know who this is?”

“I don’t care who he is, Sarah. He was whipping me with his belt!”

“I know, but—” Dread filled her eyes. “—it’s Clay Darden, the mayor’s son. I overheard some of the other men talkin’ as I was lookin’ for you.”

Fresh panic knifed Josephine’s gut. She looked back at him and watched for the rise and fall of his chest. She felt for a pulse, heart hammering against her ribs, then checked again. Finally, she looked up, her hand slick with his blood.

“No, no, no,” Sarah whispered and gave his shoulder a hard shake.

He didn’t move.

“It was self-defense, Sarah. And that’s the truth!”

“Finny, you know good as me that won’t be matterin’ a whit. Not to the mayor and not to any of the other men in charge. What his son did to you won’t even be bandied about. Only what you did to him.”

Police whistles sounded, drawing their attention toward the street.

“You have to go, Finny. Now.”

“Go? Go where?”

“As far away from Atlanta as you can get.”

“But Sarah, my life is here. You’re here. The other women, my students. Without all of you, I—”

“You’re not goin’ to have a life if you stay here. You’ll not only be goin’ to jail, you’ll never be gettin’ out. Not with how things are right now. Remember what they did to your dear Todd. You know I’m speakin’ the truth.” Doubt crept into her eyes. “Maybe what we’re fightin’ for is too much. Maybe—”

Sarah, who rarely showed her more tender emotions, struggled to contain tears, and for the first time since they’d met at a suffrage rally nearly two years earlier, Josephine read fear and disillusionment in her friend’s expression.

“Maybe it’s never goin’ to happen, Finny. At least not in our—”

“No.” Josephine looked her in the eyes. “Don’t ever say that. We have to remember . . . Failure is impossible.”

With a tepid nod, Sarah rose and pulled Josephine to her feet.

Her expression sobered. “We have to get you to the train station before they find him and start postin’ officers ’round the city.”

“The train station? What—”

“Some of the men saw him draggin’ you back here. They’ll figure it’s you who did it, and figurin’ will be proof enough, whether they have real proof or not. And when they go learnin’ you’re kin to Todd . . .” She shook her head. “Do you have any money with you?”

It took Josephine a moment to respond, the depth of deception within the local authorities—and the evil behind Todd’s death—hitting her full force again. “No, but—”

“Here.” Sarah dug into her skirt pocket. “I got me week’s wages from the mill this mornin’. It’s not much but it’s yours.”

“Sarah, I’m not taking your money, and I have no intention of—”

“You just killed the mayor’s son, Finny! In self-defense, I know, I was here. I seen it. But a woman’s testimony counts for nothin’, do you hear me? Nothin’. So if you want to live, you will run!” She shoved the money into Josephine’s hand. “Now come on.”

Josephine struggled to think clearly. As much as she wanted to argue, she couldn’t. Sarah was right. Todd had been, too.