Devils Unto Dust(14)

“I am—grateful to you,” I tell him haltingly. “And you can stop with the misses; everyone calls me Willie, or Will.”

“Call me Curtis. We’re going to be seeing a lot of one another, might as well get familiar. If you’ll excuse me, I have to see Miss Elsie if we’re going to leave tomorrow. We set out at dawn. Meet us at the gate and we’ll take it from there. It was a pleasure to meet you, Willie.”

“And you, Curtis.”

He pauses for a moment and rests a hand on my shoulder. “Get some sleep while you can; lord knows there’s little enough to be had on the road.”

My stomach twists as he passes me by. I don’t want to cheat this man, who smiles at me with kind eyes. But I have no choice, I tell myself, and cringe as one lie begets another.





11.


The heat hits me like a solid wall when I step out into the sunshine. I breathe in the scorching air and the heat sears my lungs, clearing out the smoke and noise from the bar. I don’t know how folk can stand to live in there, crammed together with no space to think. I put my hat back on and tuck up my hair, adjusting my sack on my shoulder. It feels full to bursting, and I suspect Elsie threw in a few extra items.

I haven’t taken more than a few steps when I hear the door to the bar swing open behind me.

“Girl!”

I turn, confused, and find myself staring into a wrinkled face, uneven stubble darkening the crevices. It takes me a minute to match the name to the face; Dollarhide glares at me, his eyes small and folded into the corners.

“Can I help you?” I ask, feeling uneasy. Just how many hunters are going to accost me today? And it’s only the afternoon.

“I heard you’re lookin’ fer a hunter,” he says, his lips curling back to reveal tobacco-stained teeth.

“Yessir, I was. I’m afraid I already made a deal, or I’d be happy to consider you.” Like hell, but I’m hoping the lie will appease him.

“It ain’t about that.” He moves close enough that I back up without thinking. “I hear your daddy took a lotta money, little girl. He pass any of that along your way?”

I let out a sharp laugh. “My pa takes money from me, not the other way around.”

“Then where you get the money fer a hunter, I wonder?”

“None of your damn business,” I say, prickling because he’s not all wrong. “Just leave me alone.”

“I got a better idea,” he sneers.

I start to move back and he grabs my arm just below the shoulder, pulling me so close that I almost gag at the reek of alcohol on his breath.

“How much he give you? Hand it over and I won’t hurt you none.”

I try to yank away, but Dollarhide’s fingers are like iron, and I grit my teeth as he starts to squeeze. I aim a punch at his face and my knuckles connect sharply with his cheekbone. Dollarhide howls in anger, but doesn’t loosen his grip on my arm; he’s too soaked to feel much pain and I’m not as good with my left hand.

“Let me go, Dollarhide,” I order him, trying to keep calm.

“Give it up, girly.”

“I don’t have any money, you blame idiot,” I yell, tugging at his fingers. He’s drunk but strong, and I’ll have bruises to show for this tomorrow.

He shakes me hard, and he’s got hold of my gun arm, but I can reach with my left. At this range it hardly matters how good my aim is. I call myself all manner of fool and swear I will never leave the house without my knife again.

“I want what’s mine,” he says, slurring his words. I don’t really want to shoot this man, but I do want him to let me go. My hand is on my gun when I hear a voice.

“Need help leaving, Dollarhide?”

He spins clumsily toward the door of the bar, where a man stands lazily against the wall.

“This ain’t your business, Garrett.”

“I’m making it my business.”

I use Dollarhide’s momentary distraction to aim a well-placed kick at his knee, and there’s a solid crunch as my boot connects. Dollarhide yelps and stumbles as he releases me, both his hands going to his injured leg.

“I got nothing that belongs to you, Dollarhide,” I tell him evenly. “You keep your mucking hands off me or next time I won’t be so polite.”

Dollarhide looks from me to the man at the door, and swears. He struggles to his feet and stamps back to the bar. There’s a moment of silence as the stranger and I regard one another.

“You must be the other Garrett brother,” I say finally.

“That I am.” His voice is low and slightly gravelly, but I suspect that may be an affectation. He’s tall, like his brother, but slimmer. Darker, too, enough that I would bet some of their kin come from over the border. He’s younger than Curtis, but it’s hard to guess his age with half his face obscured by a beard. Only his eyes stand out, a shrewd amber peeking out from dark hair in bad need of a trim.

“Nice to meet you,” I say, holding out my hand.

He doesn’t shake my hand, instead folding his arms across his chest.

“I guess Curtis does the talking.” I put down my hand when it’s clear he’s not going to shake it. “And the smiling.”

“Miss Wilcox, it’s my understanding that you wish my brother and I escort you to Best.”