Dishonoring Jack

Chapter Twenty Five

 "Jack? Jack, wake up!"

Jack groaned and rolled over her in narrow bed, pulling a frayed quilt over her ears. It couldn't be time to wake up; she didn't want to return to a life that offered only dismal desperation.

Something pounded on her door. "Jacqueline Marie Harrison, don't make me come in there!"

Jack recognized the voice and she rolled out of bed at once, rushing for the door. "Hold your horses, Minnie, I'm coming!"

In her haste to open the door, she stubbed her toe against the crooked leg of a kitchen chair and winced in pain, hopping the rest of the distance on one foot. By the way the sun filtered through her window, Jack knew she would be late to work if she dawdled any longer. Work. There was something to look forward to.

"Jack!"

"I'm here, I'm here!" Jack cried, throwing the door open with one hand while massaging her injured toe with the other. "Sweet mercy, Minnie, calm down."

Minnie stood on her sagging front porch with both hands on her hips. "In case you've forgotten, you left your bicycle at the Hunt house last night, so we have to walk. We're going to be late if you don't get yourself into some clean clothes."
Jack winced as the sun shone in through the open door and blocked its rays with one hand. "Drat." She'd forgotten about the lost bicycle--that would make her trips to town and work much more laborious, but she had nothing to blame but her own stupidity. "I need to change."

After she and Donovan fought last night, Jack threw herself into bed in her dirtied dress, removing only her boots. Now her sheets were soiled and she needed to change. Stripping to her slip, Jack quickly selected one of her only other dresses and pulled it on while Minnie gathered her lunch and tossed her an apple for breakfast.

The wind had a nip in the air; October had arrived and with it the leaves had started to fall and the weather grew cold in the evening. She pulled a shawl over her shoulders and followed Minnie silently out the door.

Jack and Minnie walked along the path to the factory as a flock of birds passed overhead, heading south for the winter. "So, do you want to tell me what happened?" Minnie finally asked.

"Not really."

"Donovan said you nearly got shot." Minnie glanced at Jack but she refused to meet her gaze.

"I think I should avoid the Hunt house from now on. Every time I go there, someone pulls a gun on me." Jack tried to laugh, but the sound died in her throat.

"He was up half the night, pacing. I thought he was going to show up at your front door."

Jack wished he had. She wished he would come to her and tell her he wasn't leaving, but he hadn't and he hadn't made her any promises.

"He's still here?" she murmured, looking to Minnie.

The woman's dark eyes were knowing. "I don't think he's going anywhere, Jack."

If only Jack had the same certainty. She had seen the look of desperation in his near-black eyes when he reached the decision that leaving was the only way to protect her. Would he at least stop to say goodbye or had she lost that privilege when she told Donovan that he would lose her if he left? Nausea broiled in her stomach and Jack swallowed it back. There was no time for such love-addled weakness, not when the Slate brothers still roamed Irvington.

"So Margaret works here now?"
Minnie glanced at Jack again but let the topic of conversation change. "Yes, as of last week. All she does is try to suck up to Cartwright. It's downright revolting."