Nor were they whisperin’ about her, best I could tell.

“How’d you do that?” I said.

“Memory’s a funny thing,” Rose said.

“Maybe it’s a tricky thing,” I said.

She smiled.

“What about Shrug?” I said.

“You and Shrug will have your own thoughts about what happened.”

“How come we won’t forget?”

“It’s important you know those men in case you see them next year in Dodge City.”

“You think we’ll see ’em again next year?”

She smiled. “What am I, a witch?”

 


 

 

 

36.

 

Scarlett let out a low moan.

“You think her back’s broken?” I said.

Rose ran her hands up and down Scarlett’s spine. “I can’t tell,” she said. “But it’s bad. If she lives, she’ll never be the same.”

Phoebe and Shrug were sittin’ together. She was holdin’ Hannah in her arms like a girl might hold a giant doll, and Shrug was puttin’ on a helluva show for her, jugglin’ four rocks with one hand while slappin’ the top of his head with the other. But Hannah didn’t so much as smile.

“Is Scarlett gonna wind up lookin’ like Shrug?”

“No one looks like Shrug,” Rose said. “He’s a walking miracle. But if Scarlett survives, she’ll walk poorly and have constant pain in her life. And countless other problems.”

“Like what?”

Rose shook her head. “She’ll never birth a child, for one thing.”

“Will she be able to whore?”

Rose grimaced. “I won’t even dignify that question with a response.”

“I just meant—”

“I know what you meant.”

“No, really. I was just wonderin’ if she’d be able to earn a livin’.”

“Shame on you!” she said.

I lowered my head. Rose had a way of makin’ me feel bad when I didn’t even know why I should. All I was doin’ was thinkin’ about the woman’s welfare. Speakin’ of which, I suddenly had an idea.

“You remember Molly Snow?”

Rose stopped bein’ put out with me long enough to cock her head. “Of course. What about her?”

“Molly’s place ain’t far from here. Maybe Scarlett could hang on ’til then. Molly would welcome the company, and Scarlett might be able to mend if she were in a bed and cared for by Molly.”

She thought a moment. “That’s got to be forty miles.”

I pointed to the north-west horizon. “If we cut straight through it’d be less than twenty.”

She looked where I’d pointed. “How much less?”

“Hard to say, exactly.”

“Best guess.”

“Eighteen miles, maybe less.”

“If we head straight there, we’ll miss Copper Lake,” she said.

“We could take Scarlett to Molly’s, then come back to fill the water barrels.”

Rose bit her lip, thinkin’ about it. She looked at Scarlett.

“I’m serious, Emmett. She won’t survive the wagon ride.”

“What if I make a lean-to and drag her behind Major? I could get to Molly’s by dusk, drop Scarlett off, and ride back. I could do the whole trip in”—I paused to calculate—“six hours.”

“Even a lean-to would be too rough a ride,” Rose said.