Page 5 of In These Hills

They stuck to the alleyways Sarah knew well and were halfway across town to Union Station when police whistles sounded again, distant this time, followed by the clanging of a bell—the alarm on one of the patrol wagons.

They both paused, breathless.

Sarah glanced back. “They must have found his body. Come on! We have to hurry.”

Numb, still trying to make sense of it all, Josephine raced to catch up. Sarah, twenty-three and younger by only a year, was the kindred sister she’d never had. They’d shared a room at Mrs. Lowery’s Boarding House for Women for months now, and Sarah was forever thanking her for allowing her to move in. But Josephine knew the real truth. It was Sarah who had rescued her following a time of such loneliness and grief there had been moments when Josephine hadn’t been sure she would live through it. Or even wanted to.

Minutes later, Atlanta’s Union Station came into view, and Sarah stopped abruptly. Josephine followed suit, her gaze trailing Sarah’s past the barrage of freight wagons and horses and buggies to the two police officers standing guard at the entrance of the terminal.

“Surely they don’t know yet,” Josephine said.

“Nay, but they’ll be knowin’ it soon enough.” Sarah turned to her. “Buy a ticket for whatever train is leavin’ next. No matter where it’s goin’. What matters is—Finny, are you listenin’?”

Josephine nodded, feeling as if she were in a fog.

“What matters is you gettin’ out of the city as soon as you can. Now take off your sash.” Sarah gestured, then did likewise, stuffing hers into the pocket of her coat. “Oh Finny . . .”

Josephine looked down to see blood smearing the front and right sleeve of her already-soiled woolen coat, the remnants of rotten egg dried and crusted.

“Here.” Sarah shrugged out of her coat. “Mine’s not near as fine, but you can’t be travelin’ in that. You’ll set tongues to waggin’, mark my words.”

Josephine put on Sarah’s coat, the garment thin compared to her own and snug about the shoulders. Sarah being a few inches shorter and more slender, her coat barely fell past Josephine’s knees. Whereas Josephine’s all but swallowed her friend’s lithe frame.

Sarah gently touched her cheek. “He got you good, didn’t he?”

“It’s that bad?”

Sarah shook her head. “Get somethin’ cold on it soon as you can. That’ll help with the swellin’.”

The blast of a train whistle sounded and smoke plumed into the cloudless afternoon sky.

“You best go.” Sarah pointed, her voice tight. “I’ll tell the school-master you’ve taken an unexpected trip and didn’t have a notion as to when you’d be returnin’. Write me soon as you can, lettin’ me know where you are. And that you’re safe.”

“I will.”

“And remember what address we’re to be usin’ in situations like this. Don’t dare send it to ol’ Miss Lowery’s or to one of the group. The authorities will for sure be—”

“I know. I’ll remember.” Josephine hugged her tight. “What will I do without you?”

“Well, you’ll have to be learnin’ how to cook, for one thing,” she whispered with a strained laugh. “You can’t go back to eatin’ flapjacks that taste like sawdust and drinkin’ that brew you try to pass off for coffee.”

Josephine tried to smile, and found Sarah struggling to do the same.

“Watch out for yourself, Finny girl. And don’t trust anyone. That’s one of your most noble faults. You think all people have good in them, but they don’t. Some are dark through and through. So when someone like that shows you who they really are, believe them the first time, all right?”

“I will.” Josephine started toward the street when fear rushed to meet her, overpowering and foreboding. She couldn’t move.

“You’ll find your way, love,” Sarah said softly, coming alongside. “You’re smart as they come and know more about the world than anyone I’ve ever met.”

“All I know of the world is what I’ve read in books, Sarah. I’ve never even been outside of Atlanta. We were going to travel to so many places together. See the world. Paris, Italy, Spain, Switzerland. All of Europe.”

“And we still will. Someday we’ll go to all of them places and more. But for now . . .” Sarah leaned closer. “Remember what me mam said to me, ’fore she took her last breath?”

Josephine nodded. “This isn’t forever—”

“It’s just for now,” they finished together.

“We’ll be together again soon, Finny Dunham. And I don’t mean in the hereafter.” A smile softened her voice. “I’m meanin’ this side of the great beyond.”