I sometimes wonder how much longer it’ll take him to finish, and I’m usually hopin’ he don’t hurt me when it’s over. I worry about the drunks and bullies and angry ones, and I wonder about those who are kind to me.”

“You do? What do you wonder about them fellers?”

“Some of the married men are surprisingly kind to me, and I sometimes wonder about their wives and children. I see them walkin’ to and from church together, headin’ to the hotel restaurant for a nice meal. I always wondered what it would be like to go for a stroll on a man’s arm.”

“You never strolled through town with a man?”

“Whores don’t stroll, Emmett. But I used to daydream about havin’ a fella that would be happy to take me for a stroll without expectin’ anything in return.”

“Like the married men in Rolla?”

“I sometimes wonder if they’re walkin’ with their wives through town, thinkin’ about me. I know a lot of them rut their wives, thinkin’ about me, ’cause they’ve said so.”

“Don’t make it true,” I said.

“No, it don’t,” she said. “But I think it’s true.”

We were quiet a moment.

“It’s probably true,” I said. Then added, “Do you ever worry that the money they’re payin’ you is takin’ food off their table, or medicine that could help their kids?”

“No.”

She answered so quick I figured she was through talkin’ on the subject. Below us, at the base of the hill, Rose had started fryin’ up a pan of bacon, which meant there’d be biscuits directly. Rose had a way of fryin’ biscuits in bacon grease that couldn’t be copied. Her bacon, mixed with the scent of Phoebe’s coffee, set my stomach to growlin’. But Gentry seemed not to care about breakfast. Lookin’ for subjects to talk about, I said, “Hannah seems to be openin’ up some.”

“Poor child’s been through a lot,” Gentry said. “Even by our standards.”

“She don’t seem to like me much,” I said.

“Why, Emmett! That ain’t so!”

“She shies away from me, and won’t look me in the eye.”

“Well, that’s only natural.”

“Why?”

“You’re a man.”

“So?”

“Hannah’s had a rough go with men. She’s cautious, is all. ’Cause she don’t know you yet. But she knows you’re a good man.”

“How does she know that?”

“We’ve all told her so!”

“Mary told her that?”

Gentry laughed. “Well, no, not Mary. But Mary don’t like no one.”

I’d pretty much run out of conversation. I could smell the biscuits on the fire, and wondered if they’d saved us any bacon. If we got up right then, we could have food on our plate in less than three minutes. I had to think of a way to get Gentry movin’ without actin’ like I didn’t want to cozy up to her.

Then it hit me.

“Rose will probably want to change your poultice after breakfast, won’t she?”

Gentry sighed. “I’ll put you out of your misery, Emmett.”

“What?”

“I know you’re hungry. But can I ask you something before we head down the hill?”

“Sure.”

“Do you ever get tired of trail ridin’?”

“Well, it gives me a place to go, and puts money in my pocket.”

“True, but it’s dirty and dangerous, and the weather’s often terrible. And you pretty much spend the money you make by the time you’re done, don’t you?”

“Pretty much.”

“Have you never thought of settlin’ down someplace? You could be a sheriff or keep watch in a saloon or whorehouse.”

Gentry had hit the nail on the head. I’d been thinkin’ long and hard about that very subject for quite some time, though it would involve an ownership position, ’stead of workin’ for someone else. Funny thing, if I decided to go through with it, I’d be settlin’ in Dodge City myself. What I had was more of an opportunity than a plan. But it required a bit more thought, and I could see no benefit in bringin’ it up this close to breakfast.

“I’ve done law work before,” I said.

“Did you enjoy it?”

“Some parts of it.”

“Like what?”

“Well, if you have to kill a man, at least you don’t have to answer to the sheriff.”

“Maybe you could find sheriff work someplace, get married, and have some kids.