It was not safe for her heart to dwell too much on home, so she turned her thoughts to the ride ahead. She tossed the apple core as far away as she could and stood up. Since she would be spending the rest of the day and part of the night on a horse, it would be a good idea to exercise her legs while she waited.
She walked down the deserted street of What Cheer, pausing to look into the saloon, then stopping at the house where she and Ned had tied their horses. Ned had picked a blossom for her that day, a red wildflower, and she looked around for one like it to fasten to her shirt. She stopped herself then. This would not do. Ned had awakened something long dead in her. He had brought her joy that she hadn’t known for a long time, and thoughts of him made her heart ache. Emma thought of his lazy eyes, how they turned green in the bright shining light from the sun, his hair and the way it was blown into curls by the wind, Ned’s hands, which were firm and shaped like Tom’s. Emma had almost forgotten about Tom’s hands. Tom was a part of her life such a long time ago, before she met John, of course. She must put Ned into a compartment of her mind and lock it up, just as she had Tom. Her life before was shut away, and except for the dreams, which she could not control, she did not let herself call it up very often. In a few days, she would forget about Ned. He was no more important than any of the others whom she and John had cheated. Still, the others had been bad men. They had deserved what they got. Ned was different. She hadn’t known that. But it couldn’t be helped now. Her loyalty was to John, and loyalty, Emma had decided long ago, was more important than love. Without John, Emma likely would be dead—or worse: She might not be dead. She might still be that vengeful creature hovering between life and death that she had been when John found her. Sometimes it seemed as if she had lived as long as people twice her age.
With a start, she wondered if Addie felt that way sometimes. She remembered Addie shivering as she looked out the train window at the hardscrabble farm. While she had been sure she would dislike Addie—although she did not despise madams, as John did—Emma found herself impressed that, whatever her background and her reasons for turning out, Addie had a high opinion of herself and her profession. Ned told her that Addie was arrested for prostitution in San Antonio once and brought before a judge. Instead of declaring there had been a mistake, Addie had announced, “I am indeed a soiled dove, and if it is against the law, why did you yourself visit me Saturday night, your honor?” Under different circumstances, Addie could have been her friend.
Emma did not want to think about what she had done to Addie—or what Addie would do to her if she had the chance—so she shook the thoughts from her head, and she hurried back to the station. The sun shone out pretty hot, and she had worked herself up so that she panted like a sheep on a summer day. She looked south where the grass was burned yellow and the ground parched up, to see if she could catch a glimpse of John. But it was too early for him to arrive. She knew both John and Ned wanted to get away from each other, so one of them would think up an excuse, and they would hurry off in opposite directions. She and John had planned that he would slip away while Ned remained in Nalgitas until the train returned the next day. They didn’t know until the last minute that Ned planned to meet her in Jasper. That would give them less of a head start, and Emma was anxious to be gone. She was fidgety, had been since the letter from John arrived and she knew she and John and Ned would be together. She had worried she might make a mistake, spoil things, or worse, Ned might figure out what was going on and John would be in danger. She would not forgive herself for that.
She sat down in the shade of the depot beside her things and thought it would be nice to take a nap. When she hadn’t been able to sleep last night at The Chili Queen, she’d gone into the kitchen in the dark, hoping to make tea. Then she’d been afraid that if she built up the fire in the stove, she would wake Addie or one of the girls, or that Welcome would see the light and want to know what was wrong. She could not abide Welcome’s questions and dark eyes peering into her soul, so Emma had gone out onto the back porch, where she sat for an hour or two.
Now, she rested her head against the depot wall, smelling the sage and listening to the scat sound of bugs that flew past her. Some creature made a rustling noise in the long grass, and she wondered if there were rattlesnakes about. But snakes weren’t what she feared. She feared Ned. If he caught up with them, he would have no pity for her. Emma forced herself to turn her mind away from him again and picked up her sewing, but her fingers were damp, and they made her needle sticky. It squeaked as it went through the fabric. Besides, the little square of yellow that she was working came from the fabric Ned had bought her in Jasper. She set aside her piecing and looked out over the prairie, shading her eyes as she stared at the sun-washed grass. The heat made Emma sluggish, and despite her nervousness, she rested her head against the depot wall and fell asleep.
When she awoke, feeling a little refreshed, she tried to think how long she had slept. But her watch had stopped, and she hadn’t wound Tom’s watch since she left Georgetown, for fear Addie would hear the ticking in her purse and become curious. She opened it and read the inscription: Tom. Forever. Apr. 20, 1868. Em. The timepiece was gold and expensive, and it hadn’t been used much—farmers didn’t carry around valuable jewelry in their jeans pockets. Of course, she should have left it home, but she could not bring herself to part with it.
Emma set it beside the other things lined up next to her, straightened the book, and refolded her sewing. John teased her about her compulsion for tidiness, but their success was due in no small part to Emma’s orderliness and attention to the smallest detail. The symmetry of her articles pleased her. It wouldn’t take any time at all to store the possessions in her saddlebags and tie the coat behind her saddle.
Emma found the spice cake and ate it, neatly folding the napkin and placing it in the bag under the platform. She picked up the sewing again, examined her tiny stitches, then removed a raveling thread on one side of the block. It was cooler in the shade of the depot, and Emma thought stitching would calm her nerves. So she put her needle into the fabric, taking six, seven, eight stitches. As she pulled the thread through the material, she glanced up, and saw a rider moving through the rabbit brush, whose leaves were almost white in the sunlight. She secured the needle in the quilt block and stood, raising her arm to wave, but caution caused her to put it back down. What if the rider were not John? He might be a cowboy or a prospector—or even Ned. What if something had gone wrong and Ned was coming after her? The thought gave her a moment of terror, but she calmed herself. Ned would be on his way to Jasper. He would not know yet that she had gotten off the train at What Cheer. Still, she quickly collected her things and bundled them up in the coat, excepting the gun, which she secured in her belt. Then she slipped into the depot and buttoned her shirt as she peered out the window.
The horseman was out of sight. Emma checked the gun, wondering what she would do if the rider turned out to be Ned. She moved along the wall of the depot, the gun in her hand, and looked through a place where the board siding had broken away. The rider was clear now. She recognized him and rushed outside and waved the bundle. John astride a fine black horse and leading a second mount rode straight to her. He dismounted onto the platform and clasped Emma in his arms. Then he held her a little away and looked at her and said, “My God, it is you. I scarce believed that drab woman at the station was my Emmie. Oh, it has been dreadful lonesome these two weeks.”
“I’ve missed you, too,” Emma said, putting her head against his shoulder. And she had. She felt warm and safe against him, just like always.
John looked at her, well pleased. “When we are home, you can put on your crimson velvet, and I shall take you to the Frenchman’s for a meal cooked in the right style. This has been an ordeal for you, and we will have a big time.” He turned his attention to the second horse then. “You’ll like him. One thing I’ll say for Charley is he sure knows his horse-flesh. He said Ned Partner tried to buy them a few days ago, but Charl
ey beat him to it.” John chuckled.
“We’ll talk about it later. We must be gone. We have a big day’s journey, and it is already late,” Emma said. She unrolled the coat and stuffed her things into the saddlebags. John tied the coat to the saddle of her horse.
“You think he’ll follow then?”
“Of course,” Emma said. “Wouldn’t you, if someone relieved you of five thousand seven hundred and fifty dollars and made you out to be a natural idiot?” She had not meant to sound so sharp and smiled at John to take away the sting of her words.
“We did that, didn’t we?” John held the horse while she mounted, then handed her the reins. “He will be grossly insulted and blame Addie, then take his leave of her, and that is what Charley wanted. And we have his money; that is what we wanted.”
“Yes, but Ned will also go to hell and back to get that money. He will be rash, reckless, and foolhardy in his pursuit of us,” Emma warned, as John mounted and led the way north. “If he kills us, he will be easy in the heart about it.”
John turned in the saddle to study Emma. “Were you in danger, then?”
The words were as much a question as a statement. “No. At least, I don’t think so,” Emma said.
“Well, you’re safe now.”
But she was not, Emma knew. Even with John beside her, she was not safe. She kicked her horse and rode on ahead of him.
The two of them rode until twilight, enduring the dust and discomfort without complaining. John wanted to stop then, but Emma urged him on, through the sunset, although her head ached from riding in the bright sun without a hat and she was greatly fatigued.
“We have a full day on him. He won’t leave until morning,” John told her.
Emma knew that John was weak, as he always was after one of his headaches. Still, she urged him to go on. “You don’t know him. Ned has lost altogether everything he had.” She shook her head a little to rid herself of the feeling of sadness that had come over her heart at those words. Ned had lost more than money, but, of course, she didn’t tell that to John. “Our best hope is that the train will depart Jasper before he arrives, and believing I am there, he will take the time to search the town for me. When he doesn’t find me, he will think that I did not get off the train but went on, cheating both of you. I should have told you to keep him in Nalgitas longer.”
“It’s too late to worry about that. Even if the worst happens and he gets there before the train, he will be riding a spent horse.”
“He could buy one in Jasper.”
“And take any nag that is available, just as he did in Nalgitas.” John shot her a look. “Yes, I heard about the two of you going to Jasper. You knew I would. But that is your business. Besides, if I had to spend more than one day in Nalgitas, I, too, would find a way to get out.”
Emma looked out at the rabbit brush, whose blooms made blotches of yellow as far as she could see. When she did not reply, John continued, “And you have said he is not such a good horseman as we are. Even if he finds a fine horse and rides tremendous hard and reaches What Cheer tonight, he won’t be able to pick up the trail in the dark.” Their own horses were good, and they knew where to acquire fresh ones if they needed them. “Besides,” John continued, “Charley says Ned Partner has scrambled eggs for brains.”
“No, he does not,” Emma retorted, wondering why she felt it necessary to defend Ned. “He is easygoing, and for that reason, some believe him to be stupid, but I am not of that opinion. In fact, I was afraid he would see through the whole thing. He does now, of course.”
“Do you think he will figure out who you are?” John asked, when they stopped to water and rest the horses.
Emma shrugged. “Addie has heard of me. She brought up my name once. On the train, she sought to frighten me about blacklegs and told me some were women. She mentioned several whose names I believe she made up, as they sounded like prostitutes. Then she said Ma Sarpy was in the jail in Breckenridge.”
John’s ice blue eyes were mirthful. “Then I believe we must avoid Breckenridge at all costs. They did not mention Georgetown?”
Emma shook her head. “We should be safe at home. I am anxious to be there.”
John thought that over as they mounted the horses again. “Nonetheless, we should be prudent and consider turning west at Pueblo and going through Leadville. If Ned does follow us as far as Pueblo, he’ll figure we’re headed for Denver. Who would believe we’d leave the main road to go through the mountains? Does he connect you with Denver?”
Emma didn’t know. She couldn’t recall mentioning Denver to him—nor Leadville and certainly not Georgetown. She did not like the idea of taking the mountain route because it meant extra days in the saddle. But she knew John was right, although she shuddered at the idea, for the tiredness already had seeped into her bones.
John turned and studied her. “Can you make it?”
Ned had asked her the same thing, and she gave the same reply. “You will not find me wanting.”
When they came across a coulee with a trickle of water for the horses, John called a halt for the night, although Emma was willing to ride on. She felt exposed on the prairie, under a bright moon the color of butter, and refused to let John build a fire. Since the night was bright, Emma was afraid that Ned, following behind, would see the smoke. So they ate a cold supper, then rolled up in the blankets John had brought, to sleep away the day’s fatigue.
Sometime after midnight, Emma was shaken awake. At first, she thought that Ned had found them, and she cursed herself for not insisting they keep a watch. But it was John who had awakened her, saying she had muttered loudly in her sleep, then had cried out.
“Nightmares?” he asked, holding her so tightly that she could not move.
“Yes,” Emma whispered, as the dream flooded back over her. The dreams that once made her afraid to fall asleep at night had become less frequent over the years, but they still came, usually just after she and John had finished a job. The excitement, the little wave of terror, the letdown when it was over brought them on.
“I’ll sit with you,” John said, but Emma told him no. She wanted him to keep his arms around her and make her feel safe, but he was exhausted after the headache and the events of the day. One of them should get some sleep, and she knew she would not be that one. Besides, she never slept much. John reached for his saddlebags and took out a bottle of whiskey and handed it to Emma. “Maybe this will help, but be careful. You don’t want to get full when we have a long ride tomorrow.”
There was a time when liquor had been the only thing that helped. Emma uncorked the bottle and took a sip, but she found the whiskey excessively bitter, and she gave the bottle back to John.
“They deserved it, Addie and Ned. All the others, too,” John said, lying on his back and looking up at the stars.
“The others, perhaps, but not Ned and Addie. We were wrong about them. They aren’t so bad—not like Charley said. Addie, I think even you might have liked her.” Suddenly Emma leaned forward and said, “John, we killed the Minder brothers, Ned and I did. I stabbed Earlie, and Ned shot Black Jesse. They were as evil as everybody said they were, horrid men devoid of morality. Earlie was just like Yank Markham. We buried them where nobody will ever find them, buried them facedown. I wish they had buried Yank that way, facing toward hell.”
Emma hadn’t been sure that she would tell John about the Minders, but now that she had started, she told him everything, how she and Ned were ready to rob the bank at Jasper and how the Minders had gotten there first. She told him of riding into the canyon in the rain to get away from the sheriff and camping and waking up to find the Minders standing over them. Earlie had forced her to go with him, she said, and when he turned away, she stabbed him over and over again, just the way she would have stabbed Yank Markham. In fact, she wasn’t sure but what she thought it was Yank she was killing. Emma didn’t cry as she talked; her voice was steady. It was almost as if she were telling about something that had happened to another w
oman. Not until she was finished did Emma realize John had wrapped his blanket around her shoulders and was caressing her back and arms. “I was glad we did it, John, glad we killed them. Ned told me a story about two boys the Minders murdered. They were vile men, and they deserved to die. They’ll never hurt anyone again. I’m glad they’re gone.”
Emma paused, then she began to shake. “But Earlie…looking into his eyes when he started for me, it brought it all back about Yank and the others, details I’d forgotten. It was raining when we rode into the canyon. There was thunder. It always makes me shudder—because of Cora Nellie. She was afraid of it. There was thunder the night before Yank came, and we took Cora Nellie into bed with us to calm her.”
“I know,” John said, and his steady voice calmed her. He rocked back and forth with Emma in his arms. He stayed with her like that, holding her and murmuring that she was safe, until Emma told him she was all right and that he should go sleep. She would check on the horses and sit under the stars a little longer, until she was sleepy.
“I don’t suppose you will ever be free of that terrible rough time,” John said.
Emma didn’t answer, and they both knew she never would. After a while, John went to sleep, but not Emma. Wrapped in a blanket, she sat in the dark and let the dread of that time wash over her, as if it had all happened that very day. In reality, the day had been eight years before.
Emma was nineteen when she married Tom Sarpy. She met him the morning he arrived in Galena, Illinois, seeking his fortune. He had fought in the Union army under Ulysses S. Grant and decided that the town that claimed the general ought to be as good a place as any for a man to get a start. Emma was hanging up sheets in the back of the boardinghouse where she cooked and cleaned and did the washing. She appraised Tom from the corner of her eye as he climbed the hillside and stopped at the boardinghouse.
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