Donovan pulled Jack by the wrist out of the church into the night before she could protest. Her mind spun--the men Donovan knew were associated with Margaret? What sorts of lies and treachery had they spread? And what did they know about Donovan that terrified him so?
As soon as the door closed behind them, Jack tore her wrist from Donovan's grasp. "What in tarnation is going on?" she cried, her hands on her hips.
He owed her an explanation for the secrets he'd hidden so far, for their forced exit of the party, for the two men who filled him with such fear. Donovan started to pace before her, his hands at his temples.
"Those men, who are they? And why are they with Margaret Hunt?"
Donovan paused for a moment and looked at Jack with his eyebrows furrowed. "Margaret Hunt? Who is that?"
"The--the woman they were talking to," Jack sputtered, her face heating as she recalled the scandalous story Margaret had recounted. She hadn't told him about Roy, and she wasn't sure if she wanted to. "She was spreading lies and gossip about us both. What is the meaning of all this, Donovan?" Jack approached him and reached for his arm, tugging on it. "Please, just tell me. You know I'll believe you."
Donovan hesitated, craning his neck back and staring up at the sky. "Let's go home," he finally said. "I can't tell you here."
"Just-"
"Jack, please. It's too--I can't risk someone overhearing, and I can't be near them any more." He cast a murderous glare at the church where the two dark haired men remained.
Jack wanted to protest, but she was tired and overwhelmed. Part of her wanted to fly at him with her fists and beat him into a confession, but she knew that he deserved her respect and attention.
"Fine."
Donovan's car was parked down the street, and they walked there and climbed inside in silence, neither touching the other or muttering a word. Jack wanted to trust him, but the look on his face when he saw the men concerned her. What had they done to Donovan? Or what had he done to them? Why had they labelled him a criminal?
They arrived back at Jack's house just as the sun finally disappeared beyond the distant horizon and they walked inside without a word. Jack started a fire in the hearth and stood beside it with her arms crossed.
"So, tell me," Jack said. "What is it that frightens you so? Who are those men?"
Donovan paced in front of her, the flickering flames lighting only one side of his face, his sharp jaw and ferocious eyes. "The Powhatan reservation, where I grew up. I left there as a young man and moved to Boston, but I left behind my older brother and his wife and son. His name was Willie--Ahanu was his Powhatan name, what I called him at home." Donovan struggled to breathe for a moment and Jack longed to touch him and soothe away his worries, but she needed to keep a clear head.
"What does he have to do with those men?"
"He--they--the Indian Commission has been trying to take the land from our reservation for years. They took our land and now they want to take our houses and our livelihoods. My brother, he had his own individual allotment so they had to buy him out individually. They want to sell the land to commercial businesses--Slate Manufacturing. They want to sell us out."
"Are they--do you have land there?"
"Not me, my brother. Ahanu had a plot of land, barely enough to sustain his family. And they wanted it."
Jack studied Donovan for a moment. He stilled in the middle of the room and closed his eyes, and Jack tried to understand. His brother was dead--they wouldn't, they couldn't have?
"They killed him?" Jack whispered.
Donovan continued, oblivious to Jack's question. "Those men you saw--they're the Slate Brothers. Their father started the campaign to take our land, and they finished it. They're responsible for--" He stopped, his breathing labored and his eyes burning brighter than the fire in the hearth. "When my brother put up a fight and refused to sell out, they--they framed him. For stealing an auger for his grain from their warehouse. He would never--it was ludicrous, but everyone was terrified of the Slate Brothers. Soka, his wife, sent me a telegram, begging me to come and act as his lawyer, but by the time I got there, he was dead."
Jack's arms fell and she stared at him. "They--they killed him? Without a trial or...or anything?"
Donovan nodded and swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing. "They hung him publicly, scaring anyone who would try to stand against them. Soka sent me a telegram and I came as soon as I could. I--they needed a lawyer to protect Willie's land, so I quit my job and I moved home."
Again, Donovan paused, unable to speak. He studied his hands which were locked together, and Jack felt a new wave of admiration for the man. He had left behind his career and his livelihood to care for his brother's family at the tip of a hat. She stepped toward him and took his hands, clenched so tightly that his fingers had turned white.
"What happened, Donovan?"
He pulled away from her and returned to his pacing. "Jack, you can't tell anyone--this has to remain a secret. No one must learn of this. Even Julius doesn't know all that passed."
Jack nodded though in her heart of hearts she longed to publicly denounce the men who had done such crimes, framing an innocent man out of greed.
"I returned home and even though Willie was dead, I knew that they wouldn't give up. Years before, Willie had signed the Dawes Act for both himself and his son, Matu, whom we call Matthew. They became American citizens and Willie gained land for himself. It seemed wise at the time, but..." Donovan sighed. "I didn't know--I barely realized. Matthew had just turned 18, and Soka and I never thought..."
Jack gasped when she realized what he meant. "The draft--no!"
"Those Slate brothers--I don't know what connections they have, but the next thing we knew, Matthew was drafted. We Powhatans have lived here for hundreds of years, but the moment we're finally given citizenship, we're commanded to fight on the front lines on behalf of a country that we owe nothing but resentment."
Jack now understood the bitterness in Donovan's voice every time they spoke of the war. The war had stolen his young nephew as part of a scheme to steal land from a man wrongly killed.
"He's--he's in France now?"
Donovan nodded bitterly. "He is. He's still alive last I heard, so that's something. But for poor Soka, to lose her husband and her son out of greed..."
"What did you do?" Jack asked, stepping towards him eagerly. "Did they get the land?"
"No. I stayed with Soka for weeks, waiting for them to strike. So far, I'd only seen the three Slate brothers from a distance. They hated me for defending Soka, but they hadn't done anything. Then, one night they came with torches. They wanted to burn the house down and kill both of us. Without Matthew there, they could confiscate the land and expand their factories."
Jack's stomach dropped. She almost wanted to beg him to stop telling the story, to spare her from the truth. Whatever had happened, Donovan was still here and Jack had only seen two men in the church.
"Donovan, you don't have to tell-"
Donovan spun to face her, his eyes wide. "Yes, I do, Jack. You need to know what kind of man I am, from my own lips. I swear to you, I never--I'm not a murderer. They killed my brother in cold blood, and there was nothing I could do but defend Soka."
Heart hammering her chest, Jack murmured. "Then tell me. What happened?"
"I was keeping watch on the front porch with Willie's old rifle. I couldn't sleep, not knowing his murderers were still out there. I saw them coming. Perhaps I should have tried to raise an alarm, but I knew no one would help us. Everyone was terrified of the brothers. Their father was cruel, but when he died and they took his place, we discovered they were far worse. Merciless. No regard for human life."
"Did you..." Jack couldn't finish the question. She didn't want to accuse him of something that wasn't true, but she remembered the sinister look in the eyes of the dark-haired man, and a chill washed over her.
Donovan stood still, his profile outlined by the flickering flame. "I killed him. I shot one of them dead--I couldn't tell who it was, but I shot him. I didn't know if he died. I waited until the next day, and when I heard the news, I had to flee. I tried to bring Soka with me, but she wanted to stay on Willie's land. I think we both knew they'd come after me before they'd bother with her."
"And now they're here," Jack whispered.
Donovan's pacing resumed. "I never thought they'd find me here. I was worried I would endanger the Bookers, but I thought Irvington was small enough--I never meant to put you or anyone else in danger, Jack."
He turned to her and took her hands. "I'm not afraid, Donovan," Jack said. No, she wasn't afraid--she was seething. She had half a mind to take her shotgun and hunt down those two Slate brothers herself and show them what she thought of them. "I'm...I'm incensed. You did nothing wrong! You defended yourself against them, and they have no right to try to exact punishment on you."
Donovan sat in one of Jack's crooked kitchen chairs and rested his head in his palm. "I killed their brother, Jack, just like they killed mine. I couldn't forgive that either."
"But they--they were evil!" Jack sputtered.
"I still killed someone, and now I'm putting you and the Bookers in danger because of my crimes."
"Titus won't let that happen," Jack declared. "I'll talk to him. He'll see your point of view and make sure they don't--"
"You can't tell him, Jack. You can't tell anyone."
"But won't they just try to get revenge on you? If they were willing to kill you and your sister-in-law, what will stop them from killing you now that they're enraged and out for revenge?"
Donovan sighed. "I don't know. I hope that my position in Irvington will help, but I just don't know. Perhaps I should leave."
Jack touched his arm. "You're not going anywhere. You're innocent. Please, let me talk to Titus."
"You can't, Jack. Let me...let me handle this for now."
Jack wanted to ask him what he planned to do, but their trust was too fragile and tentative for such a question. He'd confided in her beyond her expectations, and she had to support him.
"I'm so sorry, Donovan."
"Kitchi."
"What? Is that Algonquin?"
"It's my Algonquin name, my real name. Donovan is my last name, but I've used it for so long..." Donovan sighed and turned to face Jack. The lines around his eyes made him look years older. "I can't run from my heritage any more, Jack. Kitchi Donovan. Were I or my brother white men, we would have received justice, but because we're Indians...I can't hide from it."
"Kitchi," Jack repeated, his real name sounding foreign on her tongue. "I'm sorry. They don't listen to anyone but other white men, but there are good people left, Donovan--Kitchi. I swear."
"But will any of them intercede on behalf of a murdering Indian?"
"No, but they'll intercede for a teacher, a good man, a loving brother, and a kind--" Jack almost called him her beau, but she stopped herself, gnawing on her lip.
Silence fell and Jack thought back to the conversation between Margaret and the Slate brothers. If Margaret knew that they were out to get Donovan and noticed Jack's ties to the man, no doubt she would be happy to help them work against the pair.
"Margaret Hunt," Jack said, clearing her throat. "The woman that was with them. She--she hates me."
Donovan tilted his head towards her, brows furrowed. "You? Why?"
Jack looked down at her lap, her face flaming. Everyone in the town knew about her and Roy so she'd never had to relay the information personally, and with Donovan--well, she was ashamed.
"I was engaged to her brother," Jack explained. Donovan's surprise made Jack blush. "Ten years ago, long before...it was a long time ago. The Hunts are a no-good family, but Roy wasn't so bad. After I broke the engagement, he fell back in line with his pa. Then he joined the war, and a few weeks ago, I had to deliver the news to Margaret that he--he died. And she blames me for it. She was flirting with the Slate brothers tonight, and I'm afraid she'll--she hates me enough to do something crazy."
A shadow passed over Donovan's face. "I swear no harm will come to you, Jack. Not because of me."
"That's not what I'm saying. I'm not afraid, I just...I don't know what they'll do. To us both." Jack paused as Donovan took her hands. Neither of them looked at the other. "Donovan," Jack whispered, her voice breaking. "What are we going to do?"
Did you know that what happened to Donovan's nephew really happened during WWI? Native American boys given citizenship were transcripted in the Army even after years of mistreatment and a total lack of justice. It's no wonder Donovan's a little bitter against the American government.