My hand is hurting, but there’s so much more to tell and so much I have left out. But I cannot go on. Tomorrow night I will tell the story of the events at the Blue Diamond.
Sunday, June 17, 1877 cont
My head had barely hit the pillows before the rooster crowed and Jehu was up making coffee. He greeted me and apologized for waking me and for me having to sleep on the floor, saying one of the sisters would give up her bed that night. I demurred, though my back popped and creaked when I stood and stretched. Luckily Jehu didn’t hear it. Garet came into the room braiding her long hair and wearing jodhpurs and riding boots, looking and sounding every bit the Englishwoman, telling Jehu she’d offered half of her bed to me.
“I didn’t want to impose.”
“Are you a rough sleeper, Grace?”
“No, I …” I felt myself blushing and was thankful the light in the room was dim. “I do have a tendency to kick. Or I used to. I haven’t shared a bed in …” I cleared my throat. Why was I stammering like a fool? “This is fine.” I folded the blankets and put them on top of my trunk, a hopeful extra layer of protection from prying eyes. I had faith in the false bottom, but didn’t want to take a chance. After I placed the blanket on the trunk I realized my hands were bare. I shifted to shield my scarred hands from the other two and quickly retrieved a new pair of gloves from the trunk. My brown traveling gloves, sturdier than the cotton ones I put on, were coming apart. I would need to sew them tonight, alone, when I could do so with bare fingers.
When I turned around, Garet stood near me, holding out a mug of coffee. Her eyes stayed on mine, but my clean white gloves glowed in the semidarkness. I held her gaze and tried not to look guilty or mortified. My scars and my past were my own, and none of their business.
“I have a sturdier pair of gloves, for everyday work, if you would like to borrow them.”
I swallowed the lump that had traitorously formed in my throat and croaked out a thank-you. Garet smiled and turned to Jehu. She offered to help him with the horses, and when I offered to help as well, they told me it would be faster if they did it themselves.
Through the kitchen window I watched them enter the barn, and I followed, leaving my coffee cup on the arm of one of the rocking chairs in the gallery.
I went around the side of the barn not visible from the house and stood next to one of the open windows. The horse in the stall nickered, and I shifted out of sight when I saw Garet throwing hay to it.
“I have to do it, Jehu.”
“No, you don’t. You want to do it.”
“So what if I do? Bloody Jed Spooner.”
“Garet.”
“Don’t Garet me. I’m dying, or have you forgotten?”
“No, I haven’t forgotten. That’s why this is foolishness.”
“You weren’t there. You didn’t hear him humiliate me. Treat me like nothing more than a whore. That’s all he’s ever thought of me.”
“I don’t think that’s true.”
“Why are you defending him? You hate him.”
“He lost face as a man, that’s all.”
“Oh, and I suppose you’d know all about that.”
“Garet.”
She paused. “I’m sorry.”
“You’re not yourself, Garet. First you kidnap that woman.”
“She asked to come.”
“You didn’t have to bring her! You don’t know anything about her!”
“She’s going to tell our story.”
“Yeah, Hattie told me. If I’m getting this straight, you’ll be dead, and whatever that woman writes will lead the law to us. To Timberline. That sounds like a great idea.”
Garet laughed. “There is no way she can find her way here. I’ve never met a more helpless woman when it comes to directions or riding or any sort of hard living. Anyways, I trust her for some reason.”
“Hattie doesn’t.”
“Hatt doesn’t trust anyone.”
“I told her last night. About your cancer.”
“I figured that’s what all the yelling was about.”
“You should have told her.”
“Bloody hell, Jehu, you only know because you’re an eaves- dropper.”
“How are you feeling?”
“Fine if I have my laudanum and hashish. Thank you for bringing me some.”
“Welcome. Is it getting worse?”
“It’s nothing I can’t handle.”
“Why do you want to go off and do a job instead of staying here, enjoying your days with us, with your horses? It doesn’t make sense, Garet.”
“No, I suppose it doesn’t. The truth is, I feel most alive when we’re pulling a job. I love it, even more than breaking horses. If I stay here, I feel like I’d be giving up on life, saying it’s time to die. I’m not scared of dying, Jehu. I’ve got a lot of people waiting for me. I’m just not ready to do it yet.”
They worked in silence for so long I wondered if they’d left the barn. I peeked through the window and saw slivers of them through the stall slats. Jehu finally answered. “OK.”
“You’ll do it with us?”
“No. I got it in my mind that was the last one, and it is for me. I’ll stay here and watch the place. Hire a few cowboys to help me run it while you and Hattie go plan the job. I’m not leaving the Hole ever again for anything other than a supply trip to Rock Springs.”
“Fair enough. Let’s water these horses and go drink some coffee.”
I scurried back to the house and settled into the rocking chair, taking up my mug and sipping it as if I’d been sitting there the whole time. I barely had time to register what I’d learned, that Garet was dying, when she walked across the yard and said, “I think I’ll join you.”
She returned with her mug and the pot of coffee. She freshened mine up, put the pot between our rockers, and sat down. “You hear all that?”
“I’m sorry?”
“I know you were eavesdropping.”
“I didn’t …”
“Look straight ahead.”
I did, and from the rockers I could see Jehu clearly in the barn.
I dropped my chin to my chest and cursed myself. An amateur mistake.
“Why were you?”
“I’m nosy.”
“That all?”
“If you want me to write your story, to tell the full story, you have to be more forthcoming with me and not be so suspicious when I ask questions. I’m not trying to pry. I want to get it right. Now more than ever.”
Garet narrowed her eyes and chewed on the corner of her lip. “Don’t pity me, Grace Trumbull.”
“I would never.”
“Are you going to help?”
“With what?”
“Our heist.”
“You … you want me to help?”
“What better way for you to write about us than to be one of us?”
There is no way to describe what I felt at that moment, the conflicting emotions that pulled against each other. To admit my conflict, to put it down on paper, will give it power I can’t afford. My answer, though, was never in doubt. Being brought into the fold completely was a good thing.
“I suppose that means I’m going to have to get better at riding.”
“It does.”
“I hate horses.”
“I know.” Garet patted the back of my gloved hand gently and stood. “But I can fix that.”
Now, as promised, the events of the Blue Diamond on the night of June 15, 1877.
I’ll confess I was anxious to meet Jed Spooner. What kind of man would Garet have relations with before her husband was cold in the ground? It seemed so out of character for her, though what I’m basing my opinion on I’m not sure. I imagine it’s more a case of me not wanting her to be that kind of woman.
Even if Jed Spooner hadn’t been an enticement, the novelty of going to town, drinking a pint of beer, and finally getting to listen to Opal play the accordion would have been exciting enough. Stella donned her serape and
sombrero, checked her gun was loaded, and drove it into her holster. Hattie pulled out the outfit she wore when they robbed the stage—a hodgepodge of army clothes minus the army insignia, but instead of the kepi she wore her bright-red turban, but tied to the side in a more jaunty, celebratory style. There was an argument between Stella and Joan about Joan’s dress, which looked demure enough to me. Hattie leaned in and told me in a low voice that it was always a good idea to wear pants to the Diamond, so as not to draw unwanted attention. “There’s only two whores, you know.”
I changed. Garet didn’t, and neither did Joan. But they all wore guns. Garet buckled an extra holster around my waist and, with a warning that it was loaded, gave me my Peacemaker.
Hattie joked that it was a lot of gun for a blue belly. She was right, and I blushed.
“I’m not a very good shot. Would you teach me?”
Hattie chewed on the cigar she had in the corner of her mouth and studied me, her chin lifted. “Well, you took to riding good enough. Maybe you’ll take to shooting.”
“Want me to teach you to throw a knife?” Stella asked. “Ought to know more than one way to kill a man.”
“I suppose, though I—”
“I’ll teach you how to kill one with your cooking,” Joan said. “Poisonous mushrooms, or berries, are usually the best. Jehu won’t bring us arsenic for some reason, so I have to make do.”
The three women all looked at me with completely serious expressions. My mouth gaped, and I said, “Um, well, I really appreciate the …”
“They’re teasing you,” Garet said.
“Oh.”
The three women started laughing.
“We had you going, though, didn’t we?” Stella said.
“Yes, yes you did.”
Stella came up to me and patted me on the shoulder. “I’ll still teach you to throw a knife. And to use it up close. Might need to protect your virtue one day.”
“Let’s hope not.”
Hattie, Stella, and Joan went out to get the horses ready. I was following them when Garet stopped me.
“They like you.”
“Do they?”
“Can’t you tell?”
“They still threaten to kill me on a daily basis.”
“They won’t do it now that I’m here.” She threw her arm over my shoulder. “Now it’s me you have to worry about.”
“Funny.”
We mounted our horses, who were prancing a bit more than made me comfortable. I placed my hand on Rebel’s neck to calm him. Garet’s horse high-stepped around, feeling the excitement that was clear in his expression and in his bright eyes.
“Come on. Let’s go show those men what a real gang of outlaws looks like.”
She kicked her horse and he reared slightly before lurching off. The other three whooped, spurred their horses and followed. I watched them race down the lane, my chest filling with a sense of freedom I’ve never felt before. I didn’t have time to enjoy it; Rebel was too difficult to hold back, so I gave him his head, hung on for dear life, and prayed to God that I wouldn’t kill myself trying to catch up.
It was amazing how different the Blue Diamond looked when full of people and music. It all died down when we walked in. I didn’t need to be told that it was the arm of Spooner’s chair that Ruby sat on. There was an air of power about him and he was handsome, quite possibly the handsomest man I’ve set eyes on to this point, and I maybe understood, a little, how easy it would be for a woman to fall under his spell.
Spooner stood and opened his arms to Garet, greeting her as Duchess. She went to him reluctantly (or did I want it to be?) and kissed him, leaning away from him as much as she could, as if she wanted it to be perfunctory. Spooner didn’t, and soon the feeling was mutual. I glanced away, embarrassed at the public show of passion. Luke Rhodes leaned against the bar, his hat pulled low but his eyes clearly riveted to the spectacle. A tall, cruel-looking man was at the end of the bar, his boot resting on the brass foot rail. He was more interested in his whisky than in Garet and Spooner, who were moving to the bar.
Ruby came over, and we were making small talk about the Hole, how I was finding life at the ranch, a shockingly normal, guileless conversation. I asked her to fill me in on the members of the gang.
Ought-Not Henry is the gang’s conscience and is in love with Opal. Domino, a black man with a long white birthmark on one cheek, and “Sly” Jack Fox are joined at the hip, and have a tendency to finish each other’s sentences. Scab Williams is mostly deaf, so he rarely speaks, and whenever he does, it’s a shout. The preacher’s name is Deacon Dobbs, and he has this way of looking at women that makes my skin crawl. Ruby chuckled when I told her and said that’s why they call him Dead-Eye. I have to hand it to Spooner’s gang, they have some original nicknames.
No one was expecting the toast Spooner gave, least of all Garet. I’ve never heard a man be so crude about a woman, and to her face, in my life. I wondered that Rhodes didn’t move, only stood there. Garet gave her toast to Spooner—“To the second-best outlaw in Colorado”—and Rhodes’s mouth quirked into almost a smile. He knew Garet could handle herself and would be insulted if he tried to save her. I decided then and there that Luke Rhodes would not be an ally to bring Garet in, but that he would willingly take Spooner.
I moved next to Rhodes, who acknowledged me with a nod. He lifted a finger, and the bartender poured me a shot of whisky. It would have been rude to refuse, so I drank it and only partially choked. Garet and Spooner were in each other’s faces, hashing out the bet. Hattie was in the background shaking her head, Stella was watching Joan watch Spooner with a dewy-eyed expression that didn’t bode well at all. Stella was right to be worried, though, knowing her story, Spooner might need to be worried, too.
Bet laid down, Spooner went back to his poker game, but not before going on about how little Joanie had grown into a fine woman. The bartender slid Ruby a bottle and glass. She went to the man at the end of the bar. “Need another, Mr. Salter?”
“Right as rain, thank you.”
My head snapped to the man, and he noticed. I blushed and felt as if cold water ran through my veins at the same time. So Salter has found Garet, and Spooner, just as Pinkerton said he would. Salter wasn’t known for going by the book, including writing updates and reports in a timely manner. Which also meant he most likely didn’t know about me, or my idea to infiltrate the gang. I was safe as long as Salter didn’t report in. There isn’t a telegraph in the Hole, and the mail comes sporadically.
Hattie and Garet had pulled Ruby into a low conversation, but I was too involved in my own calculations to care, which is why I didn’t notice Salter move next to me until he was there, pouring me a shot of whisky and introducing himself. I told him it was nice to meet him and drank the whisky. He smiled and asked me my name directly. I silently thanked God for my foresight and told him Grace Trumbull.
“The woman they kidnapped.”
“I asked to come.”
“Turning outlaw?”
“No. Writing their story.”
He laughed. “No one will buy it, but good luck all the same.”
“Are you part of Spooner’s gang, Mr. Salter?”
“Just Salter. No. I like to work alone.”
“You’re an outlaw, then?”
“Sometimes. Where are you from, Miss Trumbull?”
“Chicago.”
“Nice town. Haven’t seen it in a while.”
“I imagine it’s difficult to leave the West. I find myself wanting to stay.”
“It’s fruitful.”
“For men, I’m sure it is.”
“It can be fruitful for a woman, too. There are plenty of men on the lookout for wives.”
“I am not on the lookout for a husband.”
“Is that so? What’ll you do if you stay? Teach? Whore?”
“Are those the extent of my choices, Mr. Salter? A wife, teacher, or whore?”
“You could be a dressmaker. Or a milliner. Those ar
e acceptable.”
“I don’t sew.”
“I know a woman in Cheyenne who’s a photographer. She started out as a whore, though. Knew a female doc once,” Salter said.
“I know one as well. A female physician. In Denver.”
“There seem to be a lot of women trying to do a man’s job these days.” Salter looked me up and down. “Maybe you don’t need to be anything. By the looks of your clothes, you’re living just fine.”
“I’m a writer, Mr. Salter. Here to tell Margaret and Hattie and the girls’ stories.”
“Are you, now? Are you going to include me in your tale?”
“I imagine you would add a certain amount of … menace … to it.”
“Menace? Hmm. And here I thought we were having a nice conversation.” Salter leaned close to me. “Now, why do I get the feeling that you know of me?”
Hattie stepped up to us so closely that Salter had to lean back from me. “Don’t think we’ve met. Hattie LaCour.” She held out her hand to Salter. He looked at it, met Hattie’s eyes, and walked away.
Hattie shook her head and turned her back on him, motioning to Eli for another drink. “What was that about?”
“Just a friendly chat.”
She drank her shot, tossed a coin on the bar, and turned to me. “Then why do you look like you want to vomit?”
“I’m not used to drinking whisky.”
“Mmm-uh. If you’re going to stay in the West you need to fix that, because that look right there? Signals you as weak. Are you weak, Grace Trumbull?”
“I’ve never thought so.”
“You’re a woman living in a man’s world. You’re weak by default. That’s why you have to be hard, with men, with women, with everyone. Otherwise they’ll take advantage of you.”
“I know that.”
“Just friendly advice. Let’s go, get Garet out of here before she makes another damn fool bet that’s gonna get us killed.”
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