by Hayley Stone
“They’re beautiful,” I said, and I meant it. Even someone as hopeless as I was when it came to crafts could see these mirrors were skillfully made.
“We’re closed, thank you,” came a voice from somewhere behind the mirrors. I saw Song’s reflection before I saw them. They wore their hair short like a man’s, cut close to the scalp, and a bowtie clenched the high collar of their shirt, but they also dressed in a skirt that swept the floor as they moved out from behind the counter to shoo us off.
“We’re not here to buy anything,” Almena said, “only here for information.”
“That is sometimes the costliest purchase of all.” Song smiled and held out a hand to Almena, recognition lighting up their face. Now Almena’s earlier correction made sense to me. At a glance, I couldn’t tell whether Song was a man or a woman, and I got the feeling that was the whole point. As wild a notion as it seemed to me, existing as both or neither gender, it also made a strange kind of sense out here on the frontier, where people’s assumptions about your character mattered half of what they did back in polite society. Out here, how you lived was your business, long as it didn’t encroach on another’s way of life. “It’s been some time, Allan.”
“Almena now,” she said, avoiding Song’s long, painted nails to give their hand a firm, and friendly shake.
Song took the change in stride. “Not the Almena Guillory I’ve been hearing so much about? The one terrorizing Kansas?”
“That’s actually what I’m here to ask you about. There’s a woman riding under my name, pretending to lead my gang. I know she’s come to Topeka. I thought you might be able to tell me where she’s staying.”
“Quite the assumption.”
“You fought. You know as well as I do, sometimes a hunch is all you’ve got to go on.”
Song seemed to accept this answer, nodding. Their gaze drifted toward me, more curious than hostile. “And who’s your friend?”
“He’s nobody,” Almena said.
“Somehow I doubt that.” Song tilted a mirror so that its light caught me, blinding.
“Easy does it,” I said, holding up a hand.
“You’re a lawman, aren’t you?”
I wasn’t sure what made them think that. Ask a child to draw you a picture of a marshal, and nine times out of ten they’ll put him in a fancy suit, bowtie perfect, hat on straight. I couldn’t have looked less kempt, even in Bratt’s nicer clothes. Having missed the opportunity to bathe, I smelled like a saddle. Even my face was turning sharp and prickly, showing more growth than I’d thought myself capable of.
In the end, Almena answered on my behalf. “He’s with me. You can trust him.”
“I don’t have to,” Song said. “I’m not the one working with him.” They smiled brightly. “But who am I to judge? The world makes strange bedfellows. I’m just glad to see you’ve found a friend. Took you long enough.”
I turned to catch Almena’s expression at this comment, but if anything passed across her face at the suggestion of us being friends, it was gone by the time I looked.
“Can you help us find her?” I asked. “Guillory.”
“This fake one, you mean? I might have heard something. Although I think the question you’re asking is not the only one you want answered,” Song added with a meaningful look at Almena.
She responded with an impatient look. “Don’t treat me like a customer, Song. What have you heard?”
“She was here, this imposter of yours. I can’t say for sure if she still is, as last I heard Almena Guillory was hunting down a train. My guess would be that she and her partners are leaving Kansas.” Song paused, tracing the frame of one of their larger mirrors. I watched their expression from the glass, pensive, and perhaps a little sad. “Is it true they killed a boy and a mother in Baxter Springs?”
“It’s true,” I answered.
Song flattened the mirror so suddenly, and with such force, I thought they might break it.
“You need a name,” Song said. “To make an end of things.”
“We’d be grateful,” I said, before realizing they were asking Almena, not me. Made sense, them being friends and all. When Almena first mentioned going to see Song, all she’d say was that they’d fought together in the same theater during the war. At the time, I hadn’t thought much about it, but now I found the possibility of their passing strange, recalling that even in the Northern ranks the fighting regiments had been segregated. Perhaps that hadn’t applied to the Chinese, or perhaps Almena wasn’t telling the whole truth. Sometimes it was hard to tell with her.
“If we don’t stop her,” Almena said, “a lot more people are going to die. I have enough of a body count without adding hers.”
“Yes, all right,” Song agreed. “Give me a moment.”
They went back behind the sales counter, and took out a large jar full of what looked like handwritten receipts, such as a grocer might keep. After unscrewing the tin lid, they reached in, selecting a strip of paper, seemingly at random. Their hand emerged a moment later covered in a thick red slime I only realized was blood when Song used a rag to clean themself off, and I saw the flesh had been stripped to their wrist. I glanced back at the jar, but Song was already putting it away. By the time they turned back to us, their skin was already healing, covered in shiny white scars the shape of snake bites. It all happened so quickly, if I hadn’t become accustomed to such acts of wonderment from Almena, I wouldn’t have believed my eyes.
Almena had warned me that nothing Song sold was magical, but this was freely given. Song was even careful not to let Almena touch them, and instead, slid the paper across the counter to her.
“I would have paid for that,” Almena said with a frown, and I guessed she meant the pain it’d cost Song to perform whatever magics she had.
“On the house,” Song said. “I still owe you for Antietam.”
“And here I thought your memory was flawless,” Almena countered with a fond smile, and then looked down at the paper, reading the name aloud. “Ruth? Is that all? No last name?”
Ruth. Why did that name sound familiar?
Song shrugged. “You know how it works. If that’s all you got, that’s all you need.”
I continued to spin the name around in my head, like a wheel stuck in a rut. Only Ruth came to mind was Miss Ruth Kingery of Baxter Springs. The name wasn’t uncommon, but the icicle descending into my gut warned me not to dismiss it as mere coincidence.
“I can also tell you this,” Song added. “There’s been some grumbling about some men claiming to be companions of the Grizzly Queen of the West overstaying their welcome at the house on the corner of Tyler Street. You know the one?”
“That’s a brothel, ain’t it?” I said, earning a look from Almena. Guess that warrants an explanation. “You might not be surprised to learn that many an enterprising criminal has sought comfort in the arms of a soiled dove.”
Song made a face at my terminology, while Almena said, “Only the stupid ones.”
“Anyway, it’s a start,” I said. “Thank you, Song.”
“Since you’re here,” Song said, “perhaps I could interest you in one of my mirrors? You know a mirror is the only item in the world that tells only the unvarnished truth, and my mirrors do even more than that…”
Almena laughed. “Not this again.”
“Now, wait a minute, I’d like to hear them out,” I said, feeling it was only polite after everything Song had done for us. Almena just rolled her eyes as Song gave me their entire sales pitch, including a bit where they figured out I was a dog using something called a lunar calendar. Honestly, I didn’t understand everything said, especially when they started talking about true and secret animals, but I’d always liked dogs, so I couldn’t see how it was such a bad thing to be one.
“All right, all right,” I finally cut in with a smile. “You sold me. How much for that one over there?” Right now, it held Almena in profile, almost as if it were a portrait of her rather than a reflection of the
real woman.
“Good choice,” Song agreed.
“You mind keeping it for me for a little while?” I asked, dropping what little I had left as far as funds went into their hand. “Things might get rough around here, and I’d hate to break it by accident.”
Song nodded. “Come back anytime—except not this late again. I sleep, too, you know.”
Almena and Song made their goodbyes, teasing one another with references I couldn’t begin to understand, concerning a time when they’d both been caught up in pretending to be people they weren’t. I stood aside, letting them have this rare moment together, and I thought about Wade, the last thing I’d said to him, as well as his half of the memories we shared, taken to the grave.
Later, when we were just about to head out, Song remarked, “And here I thought you’d come to ask about Bratt.”
At the mention of his name, Almena looked like she’d been struck. “Have you heard something about Lloyd? Do you know where he is?”
Song frowned. “I assumed you already knew he was in town.”
“Lloyd’s here?” I was struck by the raw nerve in her voice, the vulnerability, the hurt. Suddenly, I wanted very much to have words with Lloyd Bratt.
“He’s put some of your old posse back together. They’re heading out to California at first light. Bratt’s convinced there’s money to be made in the mountains. He bought horses, a few wagons, and more mining equipment than he knows how to use.” Song shook their head. “He asked me for advice while he was here buying benches for the wagon, as if I know the first thing about gold mining. Stupid man. Thinks because I’m Chinese, I must have worked on the railroad, and know everything about mountains.”
For a long moment, Almena was silent. Then she smiled and shook her head. “That son of a bitch.”
It wasn’t the reaction I was expecting.
“Do you know where he’s staying right now?”
“That, I do not know. And I’m not planning on using the jar again to find out.”
Almena waved them off. “No, you’ve done enough. Thank you for your help. I’m sorry it’s taken me this long to come visit, and now only for a favor.”
“If it wasn’t you, it’d be someone else,” Song said. Judging by Almena’s pained look, the words seemed to hold special meaning to her. I felt like maybe the phrase was something they had passed between them over the years, like a well-worn coat.
“Take care of yourself, Song,” Almena said.
“I’ll start with some sleep,” they replied. With that, they turned and began blowing out each of the candles providing light to the mirrors. By the time we exited through the front of the store, the room behind us had gone dark, and the mirrors only showed shadow.
As soon as we were outside, I turned to Almena. “That jar back there… how’s that work exactly?”
“Your guess is as good as mine,” Almena replied. “Song won it from a flesh witch in a game of faro years ago. I didn’t realize they’d kept it. I always found the maggots off-putting.”
“Maggots?”
“Why? What did you see?”
“Receipts. Little scraps of paper.”
“Song said the jar looks full of cotton to them. I guess we all see what we want to.”
I shook my head. “I’m never gonna understand magic.”
“Maybe that’s the point.” Almena stopped to look behind us. I hadn’t realized we’d walked so far from the store, but we were alone, easily out of earshot of anyone who might be listening. “Now, what’s this about our mystery woman? And don’t say you don’t know what I’m talking about, because I saw your expression in there when I said the name Ruth.”
“First, I need to know something. You still planning on killing her?”
She hesitated, maybe considering a lie. “Are you still planning on getting in my way if I am?”
“Probably. You know, we could work together on this. Don’t you think there’s been enough bloodshed?”
“Maybe. But she owes blood for what she’s done. Nothing less will do.”
“Kind of like you?”
Almena smiled at the sky. “What do you want from me, Apostle?”
“You ever see a circus? See one of them grizzlies in the ring trying to balance on a bicycle? I visited a circus in Missouri once, just after the war. I remember thinking, if that animal had any inkling what it could do, the sheer power and will at its disposal, it surely wouldn’t be performing this little song and dance for us. But that bear was scared. It had naked patches all over its back where chunks of fur and meat had been taken off by the trainer’s whip.”
“What’s your point?”
“Fear,” I answered. “Fear kept that bear doing what it did. Fear kept it chained, humiliated, destroyed. That bear sat on that bike not because it was the only thing it was capable of doing, but because years of getting licked by a whip had dulled its instincts, made it think it was something it wasn’t.” Almena held her silence, looking very much like she wanted to say something but didn’t know how to say it. I stepped in close and saw her breath hitch. Light from the nearby building fell over her eyes, making them shine. “Is this really the life you want, Almena? Filling buckets with blood, yours and others? Playing to an audience like some bear on a damn trapeze?”
“Thought it was a bicycle.”
“Give it to me straight. Look me in the eyes, and tell me this is the life you want. Tell me revenge is all that matters to you, rest of the world be damned, and I’ll not say another word on the matter. I’ll let you go to hell your own way, as you like.”
She sank against the wall of the saloon, mouth curving defensively. I leaned towards her, couldn’t help myself. Even after all of this, after everything, I wanted to be close to her. “You asked me what I wanted,” I added gently. “But don’t matter what I want. Matters what you do.”
She moistened her lips and tried to move past me. “We’re wasting time…”
“Enough running, Almena. You don’t gotta be honest with me, but maybe you ought to try being honest with yourself for once.”
“You’re either the most stubborn man in the West, or the stupidest,” Almena said, shaking her head with a droll, self-deprecating smile. “If you stopped idealizing me for two seconds, you’d see—”
“Idealizing?”
“Yes, idealizing! You’re just as bad as those who named me the Grizzly Queen, only you’ve invented a woman you can sympathize with. A woman worth redeeming, one you can understand, and feel for. One you seem to think you can lecture and fix.” She flung the words at me like they were knives.
“That’s not—”
“Otherwise, you’d have to face the rotten reality: you’ve taken up with an outlaw who’s done some nasty things in her life, and who’s just as likely to keep doing them. I am a murderer, Nathan. Those aren’t just stories someone made up to besmirch my pearly reputation. I’m a sinner, a liar, thief, fornicator—everything a woman shouldn’t be, according to your Good Book.”
“Almena, stop it.”
She was listing her evils almost the same way Jed had done, and the irony of that was not lost on me. Although I longed to reach out to her, I held back, not wanting to push her farther into the corner she seemed to feel she was in.
“If you just stopped and looked at me, really looked—”
“What? What are you so afraid I’ll see?”
She cut her eyes away, voice falling to a murmur. “That there’s nothing worth loving here, Nathan. There’s just nothing.”
“Is that what you think? Almena. Hey.” I was surprised when she let me take her chin. Let me touch her. As I tilted her face up, she gripped my arm weakly; not sure she even realized she’d reached out for me. “I didn’t mean to lecture. Just seems like you’ve taken up the cross for another man’s sins, and don’t know how to put it down.”
“Booth,” she said, almost like a curse.
I nodded, glad she took my meaning. “I know there ain’t much I can say regard
ing that business. Wouldn’t know where to begin, if I’m honest. I want to help, though, that’s all I meant with my jabbering. I’m sorry it hit you a different way.” She was tight-lipped, studying my face so intently, I felt my cheeks starting to catch. I kept on, nervous about what awaited us on the other side of this conversation. “I realize it ain’t my place to pull you out of the hole, especially if you’re not holding a hand up. If you don’t want the rope, I can’t… Ah, hell.”
I gave up on words and moved my hand around to the back of her head, bringing her forehead softly to my lips. Her skin was warm and dirty, smelling faintly of horse and whatever soap she’d used back at the hotel, what seemed like centuries ago, and I waited, not exactly sure what for, smoothing her cheek with the thumb of my other hand until she finally looked at me. Then we crossed that line together. Her fingers slid up my neck, and she lowered my head to hers. I pressed her back against the building, knowing she was a woman for whom gentleness was not a virtue.
When at last we separated, she stood back, touching her mouth like she’d taken a punch.
“I do see you, Almena,” I said, my breath coming a little fast. “Haven’t been able to look away since Asher, and it ain’t because all I seen is sunshine and rainbows. I seen a woman trying to escape the pull of her past only way she knows how. I know the darkness you’re afraid of.” I’d seen the same kind of darkness inside myself after what I did to Casella. Wagered she knew that.
Her lips parted, but it took her another moment to speak. “Then what? You suddenly don’t care about the law?”
“Of course I care. Though I reckon you haven’t done half the things they say you have. Am I right?”
“Still leaves the half that’s true.”
“Yeah, but you could make amends if you wanted to. You’ve got a gift.” She scoffed. “You do. And with that gift, the things you could make right, the people you could help… but you can’t do it at the end of a rope. And that’s where you’re gonna end up if we’re not careful.”