I walked away, leaving Otis and his wagon behind me.
Otis called. “I won’t survive!”
I had a mind to get to the Beaumont and he wasn’t stopping me. My boot kit grew heavy in one hand, so I switched to the other. His wagon creaked as the tires rolled. The horse brushed past and Otis pulled on the reins.
“It’s imperative that you understand our destiny, Mr. Biddle,” he said.
I dropped my shoe kit and vaulted up and grabbed the man by his lapels. His expression didn’t change—he looked like he had expected anger, as if that was the way to get through to me.
“I’m not buying what you’re selling,” I said. “Stay clear of me.”
“What you believe or don’t believe matters not to the dead, let alone to me,” he said, his voice harsh in the morning breeze.
I pulled his face closer to mine. “Stay a
