A Hidden Queen

Chapter 7

Joe rushes down the stairs of the jail. The carriage ride over was agonizingly long. It grated on what little patience Josephine had left. Smithen took every opportunity he could to remind her of that and that she needed to calm down. Josephine had had to bite the inside of her cheek from saying anything snippy. Joe had never taken correction well, especially when it came to her lack of patience. She bristled every time her own father said something about it, so she became downright angry over her grandfather doing the same thing. Josephine shook her head, shoving the unpleasant thought from her mind. She jumps the last two steps, smacking right into one of the guards keeping his post.

"The hell." He starts, his brow furrowed down. "Hey, you can't be down here!"

"Not that it's any of your business but I have every right to be here." She snaps, pushing away from him.

The guard quickly grabs a hold of her bicep, "I'm not sure who you think you are little girl. But this is not a place for you. Now get."

"Hey! Get off me!" Josephine shouts, resisting the leading of the guard.

"I'll have you unhand my granddaughter if you please sir." Smithen says behind her.

"Governor Smithen. I'm sorry sir but she can't be down here."

"I think you'll find she can. She is here under my supervision."

"But sir!"

"Private, you will take your hands off her and you will let this young girl see her father before he is hung. Am I clear?" Smithen commands in ice.

The private swallows hard, releasing his grip, "Yes sir."

Josephine jerks her arm out of his vice like grip. She glances up at her grandfather before backing her way down the hall. She gallops down it, coming to a skidding halt at the second cell. Her head cocks to the side as she attempts to peer into the shadows. The eyes zero in on a tall lanky figure sitting on what could only be described as a stone bench at the back wall of the cell. Clinton sat up tall against the wall. He still wore that careless attitude; one food resting on the bench, his forearm resting on the knee. His hat was pulled down over his eyes. Josephine could tell that he was not asleep, his breathing was too strong, and his head perked up at the sound of her approaching footsteps.

"Carter!" The guard yells from the hall.

Clinton huffs, "Come to take me to me fate have ye?"

"Well, I mean, maybe. I guess it depends on what fate you want me to take you to." Joe sasses.

Clinton's whole-body tenses. He sits himself up fully, pushing his hat away from his eyes. His head turns to face Josephine more fully. She smiles at him, giving a little wave as he stared at her with a wide-eyed expression.

"Joey." He whispers.

"Hi dad."

Josephine drops to her knees as Clinton comes rushing over to the bars. He reaches out grabbing a hold of her hand. He squeezes it tightly, moving it up to her shoulder as his eyes scan over her. Now, that Clinton was in the light, Joe studies her father's condition. He was a pitiful sight. He had not been allowed to bathe, so his hair was more matted than usual. He stunk too, something that was rare for her father. Josephine takes note of the dirt that covers his face as well as the heavy bags under his eyes.

"Are you not stationed to care for your prisoners?" Josephine asks the guard behind her.

"Depends on what you mean by care?" He scoffs.

Joe snaps her head around, "Excuse me? The man is filthy! Have you even feed him?"

Clinton grabs her wrist, "Josephine."