They rode westward along the Arkansas River, without talking. John took the lead at first, then Emma, then John again. The mountains with their streaks of white where crevices were yet filled with winter snow loomed up splendidly to the west. Still, the country they rode through was very dull, the road tolerable, although dry and dusty. There had been much travel on it, and the roadside was destitute of vegetation, except for the gray-green rabbit brush with its thick yellow blooms. After a while, John called a halt and filled their canteens with water from the river, wetting the pieces of blanket covering the metal containers to keep the water inside cool. He staked the horses to a spot where grass grew in some abundance—and mosquitoes in superabundance. Then, saying he had known they would not take the time to eat in Pueblo that morning, he produced a loaf of bread and pronounced, “Breakfast!” The wife of the livery stable owner had just taken it from the oven, and he had offered her a dollar for it, he explained, and Emma smiled at his thoughtfulness, as she brushed a mosquito off her hand. But when John broke open the heavy loaf, it was black inside and had a rank, disgusting smell, for it had been made of Mexican unbolted flour, without leavening. Despite their hunger, they could not eat the mess, and they threw it into the river. Emma felt miserable then. She ached from hunger, for she had had neither supper nor breakfast. But she would not complain. John was hungry, too. He had supped the night before, while she slept, but he had not eaten breakfast, either.
“We must keep a sharp eye out for a ptarmigan, and if we shoot one, we will build a small fire at our nooning and cook it,” John promised. But they did not find game birds, so when the sun was high and they stopped to rest the horses, John waded into the river to try to catch a trout. He had neither line nor hook, however, only his hands, and he had no luck. There was not time, of course, to go raspberrying. So Emma peeled the skin from a prickly pear cactus and scraped out the pink meat. The pulp did little to satisfy either of them. Other travelers passed by on the road, but John and Emma did not ask them for food, for fear of calling attention to themselves. By the time they reached Cañon City, making excellent time, it had been more than a day since Emma had eaten anything proper.
She was ready to stop for the night then but knew they must push boldly forward. Although both John and Emma believed Ned had gone to Denver, they agreed that it would not be prudent to stay in the small town. They must not dismiss the possibility that Ned had run into someone who had seen them riding west, and if he had discovered that they were in Pueblo, he would have no trouble finding them in Cañon City. They would be more noticeable in the smaller town, and John suggested that since Ned would be asking about two travelers, they ought to separate, going through Cañon City alone and meeting on the other side. He would stop to buy oats for the horses, while Emma procured victuals for themselves.
So she found a general store and bought enough food for two or three days, since it would take no more time than that to get through the mountains and reach Salida. She also purchased a flannel shirt, waiting impatiently as the clerk slowly wrapped her purchases in brown paper and tied them with string. It was not necessary, Emma told him, but he only stopped his work and told her, “That’s the way they done things here.” Then he took so long making change that Emma almost told him to keep it, but that surely would make the clerk remember her, so she fidgeted while he named each coin as he laid it on the counter.
Although she knew John would be finished and waiting, she nonetheless went two blocks out of her way to ride through the town on a residential street, just in case Ned inquired on the main thoroughfare whether anyone had seen a woman riding astride. When she joined John at the west edge of town, she handed him crackers and cheese, an apple, and some horehound drops, and they ate as they rode the next mile or two at a gallop.
The rail line followed the river, so instead of going that route, the two took to the high ground, where they thought they could make just as fast time without the risk of being spotted by someone on the cars. The river cut straight through the mountains instead of winding around their base, forming pretty rough cliffs that were steep and high. Although the scenery was grand, the ground was very barren. Emma was glad John had purchased oats, for the horses would not have good forage that night. Once, after climbing up a long, steep, and rocky hill, Emma rode to the edge of the cliff and stopped to look far down at the river. It reminded her of the crumpled indigo ribbons on one of the hats she had left behind at The Chili Queen.
They had hoped to gain the summit before nightfall, but not knowing the country, they decided to make camp wherever they were when the light was gone. So as the sky began darkening, they left the main road for a trail so narrow and crooked that Emma could not tell whether it had been made by deer or Christians. The route followed the edge of the cliffs, where the abrupt descent made Emma shiver, as she recalled the steep trail into the canyon with Ned. When it was too dark to see, John picked a low spot between the cliff and a rock outcropping that hid them from even that narrow trail. They picketed their horses and placed their saddlebags on the rocks. Emma stroked one of the animals. The horses were as tired as she was. They had been ridden too hard, and she and John would have to be easier on them the next day. Then while John made a small campfire, for the night was cool and fall-like and a little rain had fallen, Emma walked to the edge of the cliff and peered into the intense darkness. Although she could not see down into the deep, dark valleys, for the moonlight did not penetrate them, she nonetheless grew dizzy and sick to her stomach from standing on the tremendous height, and she turned and hurried back to the campfire.
John had spread out the supper, and they fell to, eating cheese and pickles and dried beef, then finished with cherries and doughy cookies that made Emma long for Welcome’s good spice cake. But John was satisfied with the meal, as he was with most things that came under Emma’s purview. “If I had all the luxuries the world could bestow, I would never wish for a better meal,” he told her. “Why, it pleases me more than a diamond ring.”
Emma thought what an easy companion he had always been and reached for his hand and squeezed it, feeling some of the strain from the day’s terrible hard ride leave her. “Well, I would wish for terrapin and peas, although I admit I was hungry enough to eat beef head roasted in the ground.” She shivered at the thought.
John picked up the flannel shirt Emma had bought and handed it to her. “Put it on before the chill mountain air stiffens you up with cold.” The wind had picked up, sounding like rushing water as it swept through the trees, bringing the scent of pine needles.
Emma buttoned the new shirt over the dirty one. There would be frost before morning, but even so, she liked this high country better than the prairie. She wondered if Ned’s ranch in Telluride were high and cool like this place. As much as she had loved her homestead on the plains, she would sometimes stand in the barnyard there, in the hot sun, looking west and wondering what her life would have been if she and Tom had kept riding toward the mountains and made a farm there. Yank Markham and his men would not have found them. Emma shook her head to rid herself of thoughts of both Tom and Ned and was glad John was stirring the fire and did not see her.
When he was well satisfied that the fire would burn slowly for a while, John got up and brought Emma her bedroll, saying, “I’m sorry these are so lightweight. We shall have to make do for another night or two.” He placed Emma’s blanket near the fire, then spread his on the other side of her, keeping her safe between the coals and himself. “Do you want whiskey to warm you?” he asked.
“No,” Emma told him. “I may go to bed pretty cold, but I will go to bed sober.”
“You were on the drink in Nalgitas,” he said. It was a statement more than a question, and she did not reply. “I believe Addie was a bad influence. Her kind always are.”
“I drank only a little. I did much work around The Chili Queen, as I did not care to get drunk in bed for want of something to do. Besides, Welcome was always there, telling me, ‘You wants to liv
e right so the devil don’t meet you.’ Welcome and Addie got on quite well, I believe, better than I did with either of them. That was odd.”
John only grunted in reply and did not invite her to explore the subject. A few minutes later when Emma looked closely at him, she saw he had fallen asleep. She tucked his blanket snugly around him, then sat looking into the campfire, enjoying the solitude of the place. A high wind came up, blowing across the elevated ridge of the mountains and carrying a few drops of rain, and as Emma shivered beside the fire, she suddenly thought it was the gloomiest night she had seen. But she was too tired to dwell on the subject. She wrapped herself in the cover and rolled so close to the fire that by morning her blanket was singed.
They slept until dawn and awoke to a sky the color of slate. It was a disagreeable morning, dismal and cold. The air was oppressive, and clouds rested against the edge of the mountains, obscuring the view. Emma rose from her blanket, despondent. She felt tired and worn, and she tried to shake off the feelings as she shook out her blanket and wrapped it around herself. There had been more rain, and the ground around them was very miry. The fire was out. Emma picked up a handful of sticks from the pile she had gathered the night before and started a small blaze. John got up then, and took out the provisions Emma had bought in Cañon City.
“We can look for chokecherries and wild currants as we ride. They ripen this time of year. Perhaps the bears have gotten to them first, in which case, we should look out for bears,” Emma said. When John did not laugh, she glanced up to see if he had heard, thinking perhaps he had slipped off without her notice, to check on the horses. But John was squatting a few feet away, looking beyond her, and she continued. “As for breakfast, I hope you like it cold, for I did not purchase a pan in which to warm it. Perhaps we can toast the bread on sticks.” She laughed again, thinking they had not laughed much in the past few days. “Myself, I don’t mind a cold breakfast, but oh my, I should like a cup of hot coffee.” When John still did not respond, Emma looked at him sharply and realized he had not moved. She felt an unspeakable fear come over her then. She shivered a little, telling herself it was nothing. In a few seconds, John would point to a rabbit hiding beneath a sagebrush or a curious formation of the clouds. But he did not. He remained rigid, his eyes gone paler than usual, and without turning to see what John was staring at, Emma looked about furtively for her gun. Then she remembered they had not slept on their arms that night. The weapons were in their saddlebags.
Suddenly there was a clatter that startled Emma so that she cried out. The yellow-and-white coffeepot Ned had bought for her in Jasper bounced across the ground and landed in the campfire at her feet, leaving bits of flaked enamel where it had smashed against the rocks. Emma whirled around, letting the blanket fall, and faced Ned.
“Try that,” Ned said in a tone so measured and cold that Emma thought her blood would clot in her veins. “A picnic is nice duty for a pair of cheating stiffs.” Ned was standing on a shale outcropping above the camp, and Emma thought he must have been viewing them for some time, perhaps all night. She wondered if he had eaten or slept since he left Nalgitas. His clothes were rumpled and dirty, and his hat, which Emma saw was new, was crusted with sweat and dust. Ned lifted his chin a little. His face was gaunt and grime-streaked, and he had a growth of beard. His green eyes were almost black, and his expression was unfathomable. It might have been hate or fury or fear. No, Emma thought, not fear. She did not know what showed on her own face, but what she felt inside was a combination of terror and excitement at seeing Ned again. Her chest felt so heavy Emma wondered that she did not fall face forward.
“Oh, never mind that. We have no coffee,” Emma said in a voice that she hoped was as steady as Ned’s. “You are looking tolerably good.”
Ned stared at her for a very long time, but he watched John, too, and when John started to rise, Ned leveled a gun at him, so John shrugged and remained in a kind of crouch. Then Ned responded to Emma. “Oh, not so good. It appears all my friends have gone back on me.”
“Not friends. Merely acquaintances. It is how the game is played. You know it as well as we do,” Emma said.
“Then I’ll knock the stuffing out of your game—Ma Sarpy, is it?”
Emma jerked up her head at that, but she did not ask how Ned had figured her out. She only knew she had underestimated him. It had been a rash endeavor to take the word of the blacksmith that Ned was too slow and easygoing to be much of a threat. But she should have seen it herself, for she had grown to know Ned far better than had Charley Pea.
Still crouched, John asked in a voice that was steady and slightly amused, for danger made him as cold as mountain water, “What do you want here?”
“What do you think I want?” Ned snarled. “You have what is mine. Give it to me. Then I am going to Telluride, and you may go to hell!”
“Oh, we don’t have the money. We left it in Trinidad,” John told him, with a slight laugh.
The laugh seemed to unnerve Ned. “And I am Grover Cleveland’s horse.” He laughed himself then, but the sound was high and shrill and out of control. Emma ached to see his lazy smile again but knew she never would. “You’re a damned son of a bitch,” Ned added.
Pointing his gun at John, Ned carefully stepped down off the rock until he was on the ground a few yards from them. “Now stand up and be shot like a man, or do you want to die together?”
“You would murder us with one bullet, just like the Minders killed those boys you told me about?” Emma asked.
Pain flickered across Ned’s face, then was gone, and he replied to her as if John were not there. “That was different. Those boys never did anything to anybody.” He lowered his voice until Emma could barely hear him. “What you did, it wasn’t right, Emma. It’s not right to steal a man’s dream. You said things…” He collected himself and raised his voice. “You thieved me out of what was mine, and now you’ll pay for it.”
He looked at her with such hatred that Emma’s hope almost gave way. She said, “We only cheated you out of what you stole yourself. We are no shabbier than you.”
“Oh, yes, you are. Oh, yes,” Ned said. “Besides, I stole the money fair and square, and now, God damn your souls, I’m taking it back.”
The three of them were locked in place, and Emma thought each was waiting for another to make the first move. The scaly situation would have been funny if it had not been so deadly. But no one of them was rash, and so they all remained where they were, while Emma tried to think the thing through. With each job, she and John had weighed the possibility of getting caught, maybe being sent to jail. She had once barely escaped a beating. But she had not expected to be killed. It all seemed unreal to be standing there, yet she had never been so aware of herself or a place. Everything was in focus, just as it had been the day Tom and Cora Nellie were killed, and she wondered why at times of terror in her life, her senses were so sharp. She saw the damp places left by raindrops on the rocks, the aspen leaves shivering in the wind. She made out diseased black spots on the leaves, saw that foliage on a far mountain had already turned gold. She caught the moldy scent of decaying leaves, the smell of horses not far away, the sound of their hooves hitting shale as they moved. The sky was lighter now, the clouds not so black, and in a few hours, there would be blue. She wondered which of them would be alive to see it.
That was an idle thought. She must concentrate. Ned might hate her, and he might kill her, but after what had been between them, he was too decent to do it easily. He would shoot John first. She must be ready to shove John out of the way, catching the bullet if she had to, but she would do it.
“We don’t have it,” John said in a pleasant voice, turning to Emma for confirmation. As John shifted, Emma saw the rock he held cupped in his hand. She had not seen him pick it up, and she was sure Ned had not either or else he would have ordered John to drop it. Emma felt a surge of relief knowing the odds had improved in their favor. Ned had a gun, but he faced two of them, and John had a good arm. N
ow it was up to her to draw Ned’s attention so that John could kill him. The thought made Emma weak, but she knew there was no choice. If they did not kill Ned, then they would die by his gun. No, no choice, she told herself.
But maybe there was, she thought suddenly. Maybe none of them had to die. “We’ll give you your money,” she said. “It’s in my saddlebags. I’ll get it for you.” Emma indicated the place in the rocks where she and John had stowed their things.
Ned’s lip curled a little as he glanced from Emma to John. He turned back to Emma. “All right, but be easy now. Use your left hand. Keep the right one where I can see it. If you try anything, I’ll kill you. You know I will.”
Emma hoped Ned did not see her shake as, facing him, she took sideways steps, moving cautiously. She kicked a stone out of the way, and it rolled farther than she had thought, over the edge of the cliff, the clattering growing dimmer with each bounce against the rock wall. The sound made Emma grit her teeth. She glanced at John, who still held the rock, but Ned had been too attentive to give John a chance to throw it.
Both men watched as Emma slowly opened the saddlebag and took out the carpet purse that held the money. “It is just as Addie gave it to me. She locked it.” Emma pushed the latch with her thumb to show Ned that the bag did not open. “I don’t have the key. We did not take the time to break it apart.” She felt panic in her breast, wondering if Ned believed her. It was the truth.
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