Would that sort of life suit you?”

I laughed. “I doubt there’s many women linin’ up for the privilege of marryin’ the likes of me!”

“Well, if such a line starts to form, I’ll take a spot right up front,” she said.

“Well, that’s a fine thing to say, Gentry.”

“It’s true, Emmett.”

“I’m honored you feel that way,” I said.

We lay there a minute, smellin’ the coffee, bacon and biscuits.

“Will you think about me after you leave Dodge?” she said.

“Of course I will.”

“You promise?”

“I’ll think about you all the time.”

“I’ll think about you all the time, too.”

“I’d like that,” I said.

“And will you come see me when you pass through?”

“If I got the cash I will.”

“I wouldn’t charge you,” she said.

“I’d like that even better,” I said.

We probably would a’ laid there like that a few more minutes, but the sudden sound of Monique gettin’ murdered made us jump to our feet.

“Stay here!” I shouted.

Then I grabbed my rifle and went tearin’ down the hill.

 


 

 

 

29.

 

Jumpin’ up and runnin’ downhill like that will suck the breath out of you, and make your heartbeat pound in your ears. Within seconds I had a pain in my side that made me gasp for air. The terrain was grassy, and thank God there weren’t much dew, ’cause if there had been, I’d a’ tumbled ass over ears all the way to the bottom, and broke my leg in the process.

The trip down seemed to take forever. Although the grass was mostly dry, the ground beneath it was uneven, and littered with enough hidden rocks and prairie holes to be treacherous. I moved as fast as I could, hopin’ not to twist an ankle.

As I got close to the camp I heard Rose shoutin’ at everyone to be quiet.

A minute ago, lyin’ beside Gentry, I assumed it was Monique that was bein’ murdered, ’cause she’d hollered like a poisoned pig. But when I finally burst into the camp, my chest heavin’ and poundin’, I realized Monique wasn’t bein’ murdered at all.

Scarlett was.

 


 

 

 

30.

 

The first thing I saw was somethin’ you don’t see too often in this part of the country. And when you do see one, it don’t look like this.

A Texas Longhorn bull was pawin’ at the dirt on the wagon-rut trail just beyond camp, head lowered, ready to attack. Rose was approachin’ him slowly, tryin’ to talk him down. The whores were huddled up in the bed of the supply wagon, eyes fixed on Rose and the bull. Some covered their mouths with their hands, as if tryin’ not to cry out. Leah and Monique were clingin’ to each other like it was the end of days. Monique seemed grief-stricken, and Leah was tryin’ to console her, while bein’ as quiet as possible, so as not to spook the bull.

Phoebe saw me enter the camp.

I noticed the muddy mixture of dust and tears coverin’ her face. Our eyes met. She didn’t appear to be in shock, but she was displayin’ lots of emotions at the same time. She was horrified, of course, and frightened. And probably glad to see me.

But there was somethin’ more.

Phoebe had taken up a defiant stance on the driver’s bench. Her body was coiled like a rattler ready to strike. She was on the verge of jumpin’ out of the wagon to help Rose. In that moment, for the first time since layin’ eyes on her, I saw Phoebe in a new light. She’d come a long way in a short time, as women will when they must, and that vision of her crouched on the edge of the wagon, ready to take on a wild bull if need be, is a sight I’ll never forget.

But there was also a heavy sadness in Phoebe’s face, and when she jutted her chin toward a heap of clothes a few feet to the right of the bull, I saw why.

It was Scarlett’s body.

Lyin’ face down on the ground.

I felt terrible about Scarlett, but I didn’t want Phoebe to jump in the fray.