“Miss Wilcox, I do not lend money to people who cannot pay it back.”
“I will,” I tell him. “I give you my word.”
The Judge raises his thick brows mockingly. “Oh? And how will you manage that? Are you looking for Pearl to find you a place? I suppose you’re not hard on the eyes, if you would fill out some.”
The men snicker amongst themselves, and there’s a prickling at the back of my neck. My fingernails dig into my palms as I leash my building temper. I have to try. For Micah and the twins I have to try.
“If you won’t lend me the money, then you could talk to McAllister. Ask him to see reason.”
“Your father stole money from the man; he has the right to demand satisfaction.”
“Not from me,” I say through clenched teeth.
“As I understand it, your father has made himself unavailable. Perhaps you should take it up with him instead of sniffing around at me.”
“Please—”
“Miss Wilcox, I am not interested in your tears or your pretty pleas. Whatever trouble you’ve stepped in, it does not concern me.”
I open my mouth and the Judge holds up a meaty hand.
“We’re done here,” he orders, and one of the men stands up and reaches for my arm to escort me away.
“Don’t touch me,” I snap at him, yanking my arm back.
“On second thought, perhaps Pearl wouldn’t want you after all,” the Judge says, and his men laugh again.
“I’ll turn to whoring the day you get a woman for free.” The words are out before I can stop them.
“Watch your mouth, girl.” The hunter who took my money leans forward menacingly. The Judge raises a hand in warning, and the man falls back restlessly.
“You are young, and foolish. I will forgive you your impudence this once. Good day, Miss Wilcox.” If anything, his smile has gotten smugger, but there is no mistaking the calculated hatred in his eyes.
I turn my back on him very deliberately and walk to the safety of the bar, welcoming the noise to drown out the thought in my head: that was my only chance, and I blew it all to pieces.
8.
That was woefully stupid. I sit at the bar stiffly, admonishing myself. Maybe if I hadn’t lost my temper I could’ve convinced him. To make me feel doubly bad, my friend Clementine is coming toward me, and she’s the very kind of girl I just slighted.
“I thought that was you, Willie,” Clementine says with her dimpled smile, her hair curling just so to frame her wide face. Clem is everything I am not: small and soft, her skin all cream and sugar. She’s lovely, even with her face all done up in white and pink and red. She hugs me gently and I smell flowers. I’m suddenly all too aware of the dirt under my fingernails and the fact that I can’t remember the last time I brushed my hair.
“Hi, Clem. I didn’t see you there.”
“I was upstairs. It’s been forever since I seen you, Willie.”
What Clem doesn’t say is why; she’s been working for Pearl for almost two years, ever since her parents died on the road. Things haven’t been easy between us since. Clem thinks I look down on her, for choosing this work, but it isn’t that at all; it scares me to see her here and to know how easily I could fall into this life, too.
“How’ve you been, Clem? They treating you right here?”
“Pearl’s been decent to me. She takes care of all us girls.” Clementine glances back over her shoulder quickly, then leans in closer to me. “What about you, Will? I saw you talking to the Judge. Is everything all right?”
I can’t lie, not with those big honest eyes staring at me. “No, it ain’t.” I put my head in my hands. “I’m hard pushed here, Clem, and I’m only making it worse.”
“Here, now, stop that worrying. You’re getting a fine wrinkle between those eyes.” Clem gently touches my forehead with her thumb, smoothing out the line.
“Leave off,” I say, swatting her hand away. “It’s my wrinkle. I earned it, I’ll keep it.”
“So it’s true, then?” Clem asks gently. “What they’re saying about your pa?”
I sigh, long and loud. “Yeah, it’s true.”
“Is there anything I can do?”
“Not unless you know where to get four hundred dollars fast.”
Clem crooks an eyebrow. “I do, but you won’t like the answer.”
I shake my head. “Clem, please . . .”
She slides gracefully onto the stool next to me. “Maybe you don’t want to hear it, but it is a way to make money.” She folds her hands neatly on top of the bar. “I know most folk look down on us line girls, but I don’t go hungry and I always have work. Maybe it ain’t what I wanted for myself, but one day I’ll have enough money saved to buy my way out of this town.”
I look up, surprised. Clem and I used to talk about getting out of Glory. It was just child’s talk, though, running away to have adventures, before life became real and messy. I gave up on those dreams a long time ago.
“That’s the whole point, ain’t it?” Clem asks. “To get you and yours out? Isn’t that what we always said?”
“I didn’t think you remembered. Where will you go?”
“North. Edgewater, maybe. Anywhere that isn’t here. I’ll get as far from Glory as I can, and find myself a rich husband who will keep me in ribbons and lace, and I’ll spend the rest of my years trying to forget the last two.”
Clem sounds as bitter as I’ve ever heard her, and I feel a pang of regret that I never guessed what was hidden under those layers of makeup. I touch her shoulder lightly.
“Sorry, Clem. I know—I know it must be hard here.”
The smile Clem gives me is brittle, but real. “Life’s hard any way you take it, Willie. You know that.”
And she’s right; I do. All we have are bad options, and you pick the one you can live with. You keep moving forward, because what other choice is there? As far as I’m concerned, Pa made his choice, and now it’s time to make mine. It comes down to this: I won’t let anything hurt my family, not if I can help it.
“So what are you going to do?” Clem asks.
“Whatever it takes,” I answer. “I’m going to track down my father and get back what he stole. And if it’s gone, then I’m gonna drag his ass back to Glory and he can answer for what he’s done.”
“You can’t go out there alone,” Clem says, her eyes wide.
I survey the room full of rowdy, reeking men, men who would probably kill me for less than what I have in my pockets.
“No,” I say, my stomach sinking. “No, I can’t.”
9.
My hands are sweating, but at least I made a decision. Maybe it’s a bad one, maybe it’s all kinds of foolish, but it’s something, and I cling to it.
“Oh my,” Clem says. “Here comes Ned to make sure I’m not corrupting you. Take care, Willie.”
Ned Evans walks behind the bar, setting a drink in front of me. He nods a brief good-bye to Clementine as she eases herself off the stool and glides away with a rustle of silk and perfume.
“You look like you could use this,” he says with a wink. He’s Elsie’s uncle and a kind one, even if he’s partial to gambling.
“Thank you. I surely could,” I say, and wrap my hand around the glass so hard I can see the white of my knuckles. The glass is cloudy and there’s a chip in the rim; I wonder how old it is, how many lips drank from it, how many hands clasped it. I’d be willing to bet this glass is older than me, if I had money to bet. I take a sip, letting the amber liquor burn down my throat and settle in my empty stomach.
“Judge rattles everybody, sweetheart. Don’t pay him no mind. Elsie says you’re looking for your pa.”
“I am.” I take another small sip and grimace. “Any news?”
“Well, I spoke to Santos, he was on the gate. Said your pa ducked out just before sunrise with Washburne,” he says, naming a hunter Pa likes to run with.
“Any idea where he was headed?”
“Santos says east.”
/> “Best, then,” I say, turning the glass around in my hand. He has a few contacts there who still bother to buy whatever sorry hides Pa’s selling. Best is due east, maybe two days out; Pa’s probably halfway there by now.
“That would be my guess. Can I get you anything else?”
I drain my glass and set it down hard. “A hunter to go with me to Best.”
Ned blinks at me. “Aw, Willie, you don’t want to get mixed up with a hunter.”
“I don’t want to. I have to.”
“Is that the way of it, then?” Ned sighs. “All right. Elsie would know better than me who to trust. How much you looking to spend?”
“I guess as much as it takes. How much is a hunter?”
“A good one, not like Washburne? One fifty, maybe two hundred.”
My heart sinks; it may as well be the four hundred. “I don’t . . . I don’t have that much,” I whisper. Everywhere I turn is a dead end; I just can’t win.
Ned leans forward, one hand rubbing the gray stubble on his chin. “You ever play cards, Willie?”
I give him my most withering look.
“Right, your pa. Well, you learn all sort of useful tricks playing cards.”
“I’m sure.” I’m not really listening. There’s a burning pressure behind my eyes that I’m not sure has anything to do with the whiskey.
“Bluffing, for instance.” Ned smiles at me. “Bluffing can be a very useful trick. Say, for example, you can’t really spare the money to call a bet. If you got a good enough poker face, you bluff and you go all in. You play the game right, you may come out on top.”
And suddenly I’m listening very hard to what Ned is trying to tell me. “What happens if—if your bluff gets called?”
Ned shrugs. “Well. In poker, you lose your money. But sometimes, could be you got nothin’ left to lose.”
I meet Ned’s eyes and nod slowly, hoping I understand. The whiskey is making me feel fuddled, but in a pleasant, comforting way, like all the hard edges of life are blurred and softened. I can understand why men lose themselves to drink, if this is the way it makes them feel. For the first time in as long as I can remember, the hard knot of panic in my chest starts to loosen as the whiskey spreads its warmth. I feel bold, and almost happy. Ned gives me his bright smile and starts to whistle as Elsie comes up behind him with her hands on her hips.
“Uncle, what in tarnation is Willie drinking?”
“It’s hardly more’n a drop, Elsie.”
“Ned, I swear, sometimes . . . ” Elsie shakes her head. “You’re gonna get the child drunk, her with nothing on her bones and you with nothing in your head. Willie, you need to get some food in you.”
“It’s all right, Miss Elsie—”
“Hush, child. It’s on the house, on account of Ned’s poor judgment.”
I should protest harder, but I can hardly turn down a free meal. I try not to look too much like a poor orphan when I smell the stew that Ned sets in front of me.
“There you go. Best SOB stew in town,” Ned says proudly.
“Ned!” Elsie smacks him lightly on the arm, a look of long suffering on her face.
“Beggin’ your pardon.” Ned winks at me. “Son of a gun stew, that is.”
It’s been so long since I’ve had any meat other than snake, I have to force myself to take small bites and chew. Even though the meat is offal, and old offal at that, it’s still the best meal I’ve had in days. I feel somewhat guilty, thinking of my family and the empty pantry at home.
“Now then,” Ned says as I eat. “Elsie, our Willie here needs a hunter.”
Elsie narrows her eyes at me. “You sure about that?”
I nod. “I am.”
She purses her lips and breathes out hard. “All right then. Let me see who’s here.” Elsie looks over my head, scanning the sea of faces across the room. “You don’t want Jennings, that man can’t hit the broad side of a barn.”
“And not Grady,” I tell her. “I’m not feeling kindly towards him today.”
“I’d trust you with Lady Jane, but she’s holed up with a bad leg. Ramos, maybe? How much you looking to spend?”
I swallow a mouthful of stew and shoot a quick glance at Ned. “One hundred,” I lie, hoping my voice sounds steady.
“Hmm. That’s too low for most of the practiced hunters, them that’s been at this awhile. You got two choices. If you want to hire a professional, you’ll have to settle for an old-timer or a drinker. Someone like Dollarhide or Sanchez.”
Ned snorts. “Dollarhide is half in a whiskey barrel, and Sanchez can’t see farther than I can spit.”
“What’s the other choice?” I ask. I’ve seen Dollarhide around the Homestead, and he’s a wicked drunk. Word is he killed a horse trader up north before he came under the Judge’s protection. I wouldn’t trust him to watch his own front, let alone my back.
“You could hire one of the amateurs. They’re inexperienced, mind you—”
“Green as deer grass, you mean,” Ned interrupts.
“But affordable,” Elsie finishes, ignoring the old man. “And maybe it’s better you hire one of the new boys. Most of these men would rob you soon as they get you outside the fence. They’d leave you stranded and steal everything, even your virtue. These youngsters may be all hat and no cattle, but at least they’ll try to bring you home in one piece.”
I think it over for a moment. I can shoot well enough and I don’t tire easily. What I really need is someone I can trust. “All right, one of the new hunters it is. You got a name for me, Elsie?”
Elsie nods decisively. “What you want is the Garrett brothers.”
“I can’t afford two hunters.” I can’t even afford one, I remind myself.
“They work together and split the single fee. They’ll be able to watch your back, and they’re honest. Well, as honest as their kind can be. Benjamin and Curtis. They ain’t been here long, but I’ve heard nothing but that they’re decent folk.”
“You think they’ll hire on for the price?” I look at Ned as I ask, though it’s Elsie who answers.
“I don’t see why not. That’s Curtis sitting by his lonesome next to the staircase. Why don’t you ask him yourself?”
10.
“I’m looking for Curtis Garrett.”
“I’m Garrett. What can I do you for?” His voice is cautious but polite, which is more than I can say for some of the men in Glory. He’s tall, I can tell from the way his boots stick out from under the table; newer boots than mine, stiffer leather with shiny roach tips. He has an open, honest face, round and clean-shaven under sandy brown hair. I put his age closer to thirty than twenty, judging by the laugh lines around his mouth and the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes. He could be younger; the sun is unkind and takes its toll early here.
“Mr. Garrett, my name is Wilcox.” I avoid telling people my first name if possible, and I see no reason to give it to this man, even if I’m inclined to take a shine to his friendly face. “I’m in need of a hunter to go east, most likely all the way to Best. I was told to speak to you.” I hold out my hand to him, and he gives it a firm shake.
“Nice to meet you, Miss Wilcox,” he says, like he actually means it. “It must be my lucky day; I’ve never had the pleasure of being recommended to so lovely a lady.” He smiles at me, still holding my hand, and I can’t help but smile back; his teasing is gentle and harmless. I wonder how long he’s been a hunter, if those hands did something I’d rather not know about.
“You’re a fair hand at flattery, Mr. Garrett, but how are you with a pistol?”
Garrett gives a surprised laugh and releases me, clapping. “Full of piss and vinegar, ain’t you? I’m curious as to what you said to the Judge to make Vargas put his hackles up.” He pushes out a chair with his boot for me, which I settle into.
“We had a—a misunderstanding.” Garrett raises his eyebrows, but I refuse to say more. My mouth has gotten me into enough trouble for one day.
“I see. There’s not ma
ny would want a misunderstanding with the Judge. Now tell me, Miss Wilcox, why I should go up Best way.” He’s still smiling politely, but his eyes are serious. To his credit, they stay on my face, which is a rarity for the hunters.
“You’re new to Glory, Mr. Garrett, but it may be you know of my father. Harrison Wilcox?”
Garrett nods. “I’ve met Harry. Trapper, right? Not that there’s much in the way of hide these days.”
“Mostly we do snake and lizard skin.” I pause, biting the inside of my cheek. “Well, the thing is, I’m in a tight spot of trouble, and I need to find my pa.”
“I see. Any chance the name of that trouble is McAllister?”
I scowl. Does the whole town know my business? “What if it is?” I ask him. “It doesn’t change what I need.”
“Well, you certainly have a situation, I’ll give you that. Now if I go looking for your father—”
“Mr. Garrett, you misunderstand me,” I interrupt, straightening my back, glad the whiskey has made me bold. “I intend to look for him myself. What I need are extra guns and eyes.” As if I would send hunters to track down my father alone—he’d come back a body, or not at all.
He makes a small coughing noise, which I take to be surprise.
“That does complicate matters, a bit,” he says.
“I don’t see how. Since I’ll be funding this expedition, I make the terms. And the terms are, I go to Best. The only question is who I go with.”
Garrett rubs his chin thoughtfully. “Fair enough. Can you use that?” he asks, pointing to my holster.
“I wouldn’t carry it if I couldn’t.”
He nods approvingly. “All right, then, Miss Wilcox, here’s the deal: my brother and I charge one hundred for Best and back. We take care of food and transport, but you provide your own weapons. Take no more than you can carry; we travel fast and light. If it’s sunup we’re on the move, and we bed down at the way stations on the Low Road. Those are few and far between, so if you can’t keep up, we’re in trouble. We don’t want to be caught outdoors at night.”
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