Wake of Vultures

by Lila Bowen

  “Where’s Regina?” she asked to cover the strange sweetness of someone looking out for her.

  Hennessy stuck a thumb toward the row of close-set houses. “Pair of old maids took her in, clucking like she was a lost cat. Lord, but I hope they offer to let her stay here. A bunch of bearded ladies and a horse doc’s a helluva lot better for a breeding woman than hunting a monster with a crew of rough men.”

  Nettie just nodded. It would be a treat, having her damn saddle back.

  And then they just stared at each other like fools for longer than was necessary or useful.

  “Rhett?”

  Nettie was so consternated by Hennessy’s attention that she was almost grateful when a woman’s voice called her name from the door. She looked up to find Winifred in a light blue dress tied with a ribbon at her waist and swirling around her calves. The girl held up a sack and waved.

  “Come guard me at the creek, will you?”

  After rolling her eyes at Hennessy as she reckoned a feller would, Nettie shouldered her saddle bags, checked her gun, and followed Winifred out into the sunny afternoon.

  “I’ll find you when it’s our turn,” Hennessy called, and she raised a hand in acknowledgment, although that wouldn’t do at all.

  Outside, Nettie stared at the dirt road to avoid looking at Winifred’s stubbornly exposed legs.

  “Amethyst gave me some soap and a comb, too. Haven’t had a proper wash in weeks. Have you?”

  Squirming, Nettie said, “Just water in a leaky pot at Pap’s place.”

  Truth be told, she always felt uncomfortable without a nice coating of earth. It was the same color as her skin, and she’d always felt like if she could look at herself and pretend she was seeing prairie dirt, she didn’t have to think about the rich brown color that damned her from ever being anything or anybody in Gloomy Bluebird. And anyway, the last time Pap had caught her washing in the creek, he’d looked at her the same way he looked at Mam when she came in from the rain with her calico all stuck to her like an overstretched frog skin. No, Nettie hadn’t taken many baths since she turned twelve.

  The creek was more of a shallow river, sparkling a beautiful blue under the wide prairie sky. Some of the fellers were already nekkid as jaybirds and splashing around under the Captain’s stern, fully clothed eye as he sat his horse, and several wranglers were beating their wet clothes against rocks. Turned out quite a few of their shirts were actually white, which surprised the Sam Hill out of Nettie. Qualls looked up, saw Winifred, gulped, and turned as red as the shirt he was washing, which he tried to hide behind.

  “Hey, pretty Injun girl,” one of the Rangers called. “Y’on come take a swim?”

  “Red and white makes pink,” hollered another one, wagging his twig like a damn flag.

  Winifred sped up just a little, walking proud but fast. “They’re animals,” she muttered.

  They followed the creek around a bend, and Winifred broke into a run, her bare feet flying over the smooth river stones like she didn’t even feel them. Nettie stumbled every time she looked up at the girl and clumped along behind in her boots. Soon, they’d gotten far enough away so they couldn’t hear the Rangers splashing, to a pretty place where the water pooled up, hidden by bushes and greenery. Winifred pulled a lumpy ball of soap out of the bag, along with a wooden comb missing a couple of tines.

  “You stand there and make sure none of those disgusting Rangers try to find us. If one of them comes around that bend, you’d best shoot him, or I will.”

  At first, Nettie nodded. But then she couldn’t keep her mouth shut. “They’ve all seen you nekkid, girl. Or at least, they seen you wrapped in a little bit of leather or under a blanket. Why are you so worried for your skin, all of a sudden?”

  Winifred looked up from combing her long hair and cocked her head with a gentle smile.

  “You don’t know much of what happens between men and women, do you?”

  Nettie sputtered like someone had shoved her head under the water.

  Winifred nodded knowingly. “That’s what I thought. It’s not like with horses and cows, all straightforward. There’s a dance to it, especially among folks that think they’re civilized. When they see me in my leathers, they see a dirty, stupid Injun who can turn into a dirty, stupid coyote. But when they see me in a dress and then nekkid and dripping water, they see a woman. And women are all the same color on the inside.”

  “Then why do you wear a damn dress at all? Why remind ’em what you are?”

  Winifred looked down at the faded blue. “Because I do what I want. I might like wearing a dress, but I don’t wear it for them. It’s for me. Because I like the feel of it. And I’ll not have them taking anything from me that I’m not willing to give.” She finished with the comb and twitched her hair behind her shoulder in a black, shiny waterfall. “And I’m not willing to give a single one of those fools anything, much less the satisfaction that they’ve shamed me.”

  It was a lot to grasp for Nettie, so she just pulled out her gun, faced away from the pool and toward where the cowpokes were, and tried to look competent.

  “I’ll guard you fine, then. Go on with your bath and quit with the preachin’.”

  “My hero,” Winifred said, then laughed.

  The prairie was pretty out here, the sky wide and blue and streaked with fishbelly-white clouds. The creek glittered like a hair ribbon, disappearing around a corner to where the cowpokes were bathing downstream, nekkid without a care in the world. It was hard for Nettie to see them as the enemy, as anything but fellers she wanted to be with and be like. Surely the famed Durango Rangers wouldn’t take advantage of a woman? Well, unless she was a vampire and going for a throat. Or, say, a wolf-woman or a harpy. Then again, what they’d hollered at Winifred was rude as hell and made Nettie angry. And the Captain had heard Regina screaming and left her behind to die. Law, but it was hard enough to puzzle out women from men before they started turning into all sorts of new critters and monsters, good and bad.

  Nettie had no idea how she fit into what she was constantly learning of the world.

  But she understood her orders well enough: Guard Winifred.

  That she could do.

  Behind her, fabric whispered over skin, and flesh sunk deeper into water that would only come up to the girl’s waist, which left a good bit hanging out for all to see. Nettie checked her gun to make sure it didn’t need reloading. Then she checked it again and spun the barrel. A deep splash suggested Winifred might’ve dove down, and the sound of spitting water and paddling confirmed it.

  “Ain’t that cold?” Nettie called.

  Winifred laughed. “You’ll see well enough when I’m done. Feels good, though. Makes me feel more alive.”

  “Well, considering you were dead a few hours ago, I reckon that ain’t hard.”

  After a brief pause, water splattered against Nettie’s back, making her suck in a breath. She spun on Winifred and found the girl on her knees and chin-deep, scooping up another armful of water to splash her, a huge grin on her face.

  “You take life too seriously, Rhett. Don’t you ever play?”

  Nettie turned back to face away and shrugged. “Nobody never taught me how.”

  “We need to work on that.”

  Shaking the impish tone of the girl’s words out of her head, Nettie cleared her throat and wished to hell Winifred would put her clothes back on and leave Nettie to return to a life she wanted and understood. Too much thinking just felt… dangerous. And playing was downright stupid. Durango Rangers, she was quite sure, did not play. Winifred sounded like she was back to business, just light splashes, no more being silly. Until strong arms grabbed Nettie around the waist and tossed her into the water, boots and all.

  Nettie screeched, her gun flying out of her hand and onto the bank as she landed on her butt in the ice-cold creek. Winifred stood over her, nekkid and blocking the sun behind a sheet of night-black wet hair.

  “See? That was fun.”

  Scrambling to
her feet, her heart beating like a hummingbird, Nettie hunted for her gun. “That ain’t fun. You could’ve ruined my gun, girl. I can’t protect you if you’re going to go on and do foolish things like that.”

  A firm hand on her shoulder shoved Nettie right back into the creek. Winifred had no right being as strong as that, as strong as a man. And Nettie was wet now from neck to boots. And even though the water barely came up to her waist, she couldn’t swim a lick, which made her skitty.

  “I changed my mind,” Winifred said, laughing. “Any of those old cowpokes who come around the corner can answer to me. Go on and bathe. You’re already halfway there. I’ll keep watch. Maybe I’ll teach you how to have a water fight, once you’re clean.”

  She was right, too, goddammit. Nettie was soaked, her clothes clinging to her and dirt swirling around her in an oily puddle. The creek was sluggish, and it was cold, but it did feel all tingly-like. She’d never been in so much water at once, and goddamn if it didn’t make a body feel more alive.

  “Aw, hell.”

  Nettie went on and took off her boots at least, tossing them onto the pebbles beside Winifred’s dress to dry. Her socks came next, and her toes stretched out like baby moles seeing sun for the first time. She hadn’t seen her toes in weeks, not since switching over her boots in Pap’s barn. She tossed off her bandanna, her hat, her vest, and her empty gun belt. Finally, all that was left was her shirt and britches, and she didn’t much want to take those off, not in front of Winifred or in front of anybody. Not even alone, if it was still out in the air where anybody might see. She didn’t know what to do with her own nekkid body. She felt soft all over, vulnerable, and she hated that.

  “Go on, then. Nothing I haven’t seen before. Unless you’re scared.”

  Winifred’s teasing tone was a dare, and Nettie wasn’t about to back down. The only thing she liked less than being nekkid was having somebody think she was too scared to do something as simple and stupid as taking a bath. There was no sight of the Rangers around the bend, and Winifred had sharp enough coyote senses to warn her in time, should any fellers appear.

  Knowing her shirttail went down to her knees, she slipped off her britches first. They were all but crusted in places, and she washed ’em right quick, dipping the thick cloth in the water, twisting the fabric up, and beating them against a nearby rock while trying to ignore the unsettling sensation of air swirling around her nethers under the shirt. Winifred watched her, nekkid and proud, arms crossed over something that Nettie herself was accustomed to keeping wound up tight. Law, did she have to take off her wrapping, too? Damn the Captain and his bathing bullshit.

  Finally, she couldn’t get the pants any cleaner, so she laid them out flat on the pebbles while the cool air whistled over her rump.

  “Ain’t you going to wash your dress, Winifred?”

  “It was clean when I put it on today, which means it’s still clean. Why are you so scared to take off your shirt? The men aren’t coming down here. The Captain would skin them alive if they tried.”

  Nettie had three buttons undone, and she looked daggers at Winifred.

  “Then why the Sam Hill’d you ask me to guard you?”

  Winifred tossed her hair like a lead mare. “For company. And so you’d have an excuse to bathe without being watched. I was doing you a favor. Best finish your cleaning, or the Captain will dunk you himself, and then your little secret will be out. Honestly, if Jiddy were half the tracker he says he is, he would’ve already smelled you for what you are.”

  “What, the Shadow?”

  “No, silly. Shadows don’t smell. That’s the point. Any skinwalker scout should be able to smell a woman.”

  Nettie flushed red. “Don’t call me that.”

  As Nettie picked back up with the buttons, Winifred used the piddly ball of soap to wash herself, the scent of rose petals filling the air around the creek. Nettie felt an ache in her chest she didn’t quite understand, and then the last button was undone, and the shirt hung from the low, wrapped-up bumps of her chest. Before Winifred could call her a coward again, she turned her back and shrugged it off and set to beating her anger and confusion out on wet cloth against rock.

  “You trying to murder that shirt?”

  Both girls whirled at the man’s voice. Winifred relaxed when she saw it was Hennessy standing behind her, but Nettie dropped to a crouch in the water, hoping Hennessy hadn’t seen much more than her bare ass, which was boyish enough. He stood in the middle of the creek, carrying his boots. Which explained why neither of them had seen him and Winifred hadn’t smelled him. Nettie’s skin was frozen and tingling, but inside, she was as hot as a cherry-red branding iron.

  “Rhett? What’s got you scared, man? It’s just me.”

  Nettie turned around, holding the wet shirt over her front and squatting down in the stream.

  “Told you I’m shy.”

  Wearing his million-dollar smile, Hennessy tossed his vest, boots, and gun belt to the shore and started stripping. His eyes didn’t leave Nettie’s as he pulled off his hat and bandanna. It was as if he’d plum forgotten that Winifred existed and was standing off to the side, hands on hips and gloriously nekkid as she watched the show. Nettie glanced at Winifred, then back to Hennessy.

  But he had no eyes for Winifred. Only for Nettie. Only for Rhett.

  Sam’s face went a shade darker, chin tucked and eyes hooded as he started unbuttoning his shirt. Nettie swallowed hard. It was as if there were nothing in the entire world but her and him, this feller she’d taken a liking to years ago, when she was still a young little sprig of a nobody with nothing. He hadn’t even noticed her then, but he damn well saw her now. Hennessy didn’t blink as he folded his shirt and placed it carefully on the rock Nettie squatted beside, passing so close that she could smell an animal musk rising up off his skin. The passing heat of Hennessy and the scent of his skin reminded her of being drunk on whisky at the saloon, so very dizzying and dreamlike and yet so very real.

  His fingers went to the buttons on his britches as his mouth curled up.

  “Hennessy, you don’t got to—”

  “Fair’s fair, other Hennessy. And the Captain ordered us to bathe. Best get every crevice.”

  Nettie looked to Winifred. The girl was just watching, bemused, a knowing smile on her face. But Nettie couldn’t handle it, Hennessy getting nekkid in front of her, almost for her, it felt like. She lurched up, holding the shirt in front of her business as she backed away.

  “It’s just me, Rhett. Calm down.” Hennessy put his hands up, which made the flap on his britches fall down, exposing a curious slice of hipbone and a shadow of blond hair and… something else, sticking straight up.

  It was the most interesting and terrifying thing Nettie had ever seen, and she was so goddamn surprised that she dropped her shirt and stood up.

  Hennessy’s face broke like a thrown plate.

  “Rhett? What’s… why… are you…?”

  Nettie shook her head, frozen in place. Hennessy stomped up to her through the water, stared pointedly at the dark thatch of her, down below.

  “What happened to you, man? Where’s your…”

  When Hennessy’s hand reached out as if to see if she was hiding a pizzle somewhere, she slapped it away.

  “I’m sorry, Sam. It’s just…”

  He took her roughly by the shoulders and held her at arm’s length, inspecting her from face to neck, pausing over the controlled hills hidden by her wrapping, down over her flat stomach and barely-there hips, all the way down her legs. He was breathing like he’d run a mile, and by the time his gander returned to her face, he looked downright disgusted and like she’d stabbed him in the back.

  Thick with desperation, he said, “I don’t understand, Rhett. Tell me. Tell me you ain’t a girl.”

  Nettie couldn’t meet his eyes for a second longer. She twisted out of his hands, snatched her shirt back up over her body, and wished she was small enough to wrap up in it and never see him again like a lit
tle bitty mouse. “I thought you knew, Hennessy. You… you tried to kiss me.”

  Hennessy shoved her, hard enough to lay her out on her back in the stream.

  “Goddammit, Rhett. I thought you were a boy.”

  He grabbed his belongings, shoved on his boots, and stormed back up the creek toward the Rangers, taking her secret and her half-broken heart along with him.

  CHAPTER

  20

  Nettie scrambled up and watched him go with tears in her eyes and a tornado in her heart. When she turned to Winifred, the girl looked utterly unsurprised and even wryly amused.

  “What the hell was that?” Nettie asked her.

  Winifred rubbed the soap over the hair tufts under her arms and sighed. “You have a lot to learn about people, Nettie Lonesome.”

  “But I thought he liked me. I thought he knew. He made sly remarks about being alone with me, and he tried to kiss me once, and…” Memories tumbled through, all the little gestures, the smiles, the shoulder squeezes and back claps, how close he spaced his bedroll at night, and the way Hennessy’s new beard had glinted in the moonlight when he’d been about to kiss her.

  “He did like you, idjit. But you’re right about the sly.”

  Nettie was so angry and confused she forgot about her embarrassment and just wanted to bid the creek farewell forever. She beat her shirt against the rock, loading each smack with all of her hurt. Then she unwound the wrap around her chest and cleaned that, too, all the while keeping her back to Winifred and the girl’s knowing, goddamn silence. When she’d finally beat all the pain out, she laid her things out on a hot rock and flattened herself out beside them like a dare and willed the sun to burn her and them up to a crisp on the spot, or at least to dry ’em out faster than usual so she could get on with her troublesome life.

  “Remember how I said people aren’t like horses and cows?”

  Winifred’s voice was gentle, which put Nettie on the defensive. Her nose wrinkled up, and she slitted her eyes to stare at Winifred in a blameful sort of way. “So I’m learning.”