• 23 •

THESE BOYS ARE going to make terrible soldiers, Beulah thought. They abandon their posts to walk in the woods with us. They can’t keep track of their own weapons. Now a woman twice their age in long skirts has a pistol in her hand, and they’re absolutely terrified. What are they going to do when they’re facing down the Germans?

Constance tucked the pistol in her belt as if she did it every day. Fleurette had been awfully coy about her older sister, but Beulah was ever more suspicious that she’d done something in the line of police work before. She carried herself that way, and it wasn’t just because she’d been appointed camp matron.

But if that was true, why was it such a secret? Who would want to hide a thing like that?

Constance said, “The guns aren’t loaded. These girls are all planning to go to France directly, as soon as camp is over. They wanted some training in firearms for their own protection. I told them I would give a demonstration, but nothing more. This is entirely my responsibility.”

Hack took a few steps forward and peered down at the other guns, still arrayed on the pile of jackets. “Are these ours? We never took them out of the supply shed. They’ve been locked, and we carry the keys.”

He felt around on his belt for a ring of keys and held them up to the light of Constance’s lantern.

“Your keys are there,” Sarah said, “and Constance shouldn’t be the one to take the blame. I stole the guns. I borrowed a key from Clarence and returned it right away.”

Clarence fumbled for his own keys. “They’re on me all the time, Hack! I swear I never take them off. Unless . . . You didn’t come and get them while . . .”

“I did,” Sarah said. “I lifted them while you were in the shower. But I didn’t look.”

Beulah couldn’t help but laugh. That sounded like something she would do. One of the first things she learned on Mayo Street was how to slip her fingers into a man’s pockets, whether he was wearing the pants or not.

Every girl turned around and looked at Beulah when she laughed. They were taking this far more seriously than she was. Even Fleurette looked horrified. It took a minute for Beulah to understand why: she and Fleurette, too, had been caught doing something wrong.

“It doesn’t matter who took the keys,” Constance said briskly. “I’m the matron of this camp and I should’ve put a stop to it. You can take the guns back now. I don’t suppose I have to ask what the four of you were doing in the woods after curfew.”

“We only went out for air,” Fleurette said. “The boys were escorting us back to our tent. Isn’t that their job?”

“I’ve heard enough from you,” Constance said, just sharply enough to make Beulah shrink back, too. “But Privates Hackbush and Piper should’ve known better. You’re here to guard the camp, not to carry on with girls in the woods.”

“Then I suppose we’re all in a bit of a pickle,” Hack said.

Beulah had to give Hack some credit: the boy could think on his feet. He was about to bargain his way out of this mess.

“I’ll tell you what, ladies,” he said. “If you’re serious about going to France, we’ll show you how to fire a weapon. But you won’t put a hand on these guns unless we’re right here with you.”

“And you won’t put a hand on these girls,” Constance said.

“We never did!” Clarence protested.

“They really didn’t,” Fleurette said, with just enough disappointment in her voice to make everyone laugh this time.

But Constance didn’t look convinced. She stood with her arms folded across her chest, frowning down at the two men. What must it be like, Beulah wondered, to tower over everyone else like that? A woman of her size might actually stand a chance against the Germans.

“Did you say,” Beulah asked, as long as everyone remained silent, “that all of you are going to France?”

“I’ve already booked my passage,” Sarah said.

“I’m trying to get on the same ship,” said Margaret, “and I’ve written to some friends back home to take up a fund so that we can bring Fern and Hilda with us.”

“I’ll be leaving from Florida,” Bernice said.

It was starting to occur to Beulah that she’d been sneaking out with the wrong crowd after curfew. If she still intended to go to France — and what else was she to do when camp ended? — she needed a woman like Margaret on her side.

“A battalion of ladies invading France,” Hack said. “I don’t think they intended that when they organized this camp.”

“Well, we intended it all along,” Margaret said.

“I think it’s awfully brave of you,” Clarence said. “I have three sisters at home and I can’t imagine any of them out here doing what you’re doing.”

“They might surprise you someday,” Constance said. “I’ll allow another night of training, and this time you can bring the guns. But one of you has to stay behind and guard the camp. We’ve left it unattended, and that can’t happen again.”

“Hack’s the better shot,” Clarence said. “I suppose he ought to be your rifle instructor. I’ll take guard duty.”

“You can take turns at guard duty and I’ll give the lessons myself,” Constance said. “These girls are my responsibility.”

Hack cleared his throat and said, “I hope you don’t mind me asking, ma’am, but where did you learn how to handle a pistol?”

“Our brother taught her,” Fleurette said, before Constance could answer. “He taught all three of us, when he got married and moved away from the farm. He thought we ought to be able to protect ourselves. But I didn’t take to it. Of the three of us, Constance is the best shot.”