Devils Unto Dust(20)

I can smell dawn coming, a subtle shift in the air. It’s time to go if I want to make it to the gate on time. I load my revolver, carefully slipping each round into the chamber. I holster the gun to my belt and fill up a small drawstring pouch with extra cartridges and fifty dollars, which I hang around my neck. This time I slide my long dirk knife into its sheath, reassured by the feel of a weapon on each hip. I get my hat and my duster coat, and put my blanket roll, canteen, and sugar sack by the door. I stare at my effects for a moment, certain that I’m forgetting something, but all that’s left is the leaving.

I hesitate at Micah’s bed, but I have to say good-bye, no matter how mad they are. A small body shifts in the darkness and sits up.

“Willie?”

“It’s time,” I whisper. “I’m sorry, Cath. Love.”

I hold my breath until I hear her answer.

“Love,” she says softly.

“Love,” comes an identical voice.

“Will?”

“Yeah, Micah?”

“This time mean it.”

My smile trembles in the darkness. “I’ll be careful. Be good to each other. I’ll be home soon.”





16.


It’s cool out with the sun still hiding. My legs feel jumpy, like I want to run, and I give them a firm stamp to get the nerves out. I can’t be wasting my energy this early in the day. Picturing the look on Benjamin Garrett’s face if I start to tire sobers me up plenty. I wish it were just his brother taking me to Best, but I suppose he wishes the same thing.

Sam’s house is dark as I pass by. The doc is almost never home, he’s too busy patching up the knife wounds and bullet holes the hunters like to hand out. I have a feeling Sam will be staying at our house for the next few days; he hates to be alone. I hope he and Micah don’t ignore the twins for too long, or they’re bound to set fire to the place. I’ll make it up to them when I get back, I promise myself. I’ll teach them how to sing “The Lonely Cowpoke,” with all the dirty words. They’ll like that, and it will annoy Micah to boot.

When I get to the fork in the road, I go left, instead of right to the Homestead. The gate is up ahead, a small break in the looming barbed wire. It’s made of thick planks of wood as tall as a man and only opens from the inside. There’re two guards on it at all times, bored hunters the Judge rotates through, and it’s my luck that today one of them is Amos Porter. He’s kin to Old Bess, a great nephew or second cousin or some such thing, and for all he’s a hunter, he’s never been anything but kind to me.

“Good morning to you, Miss Wilcox,” Amos calls to me, his rifle cradled across his wide chest.

“Good morning, Mr. Porter.”

“Where’s your brother at? You goin’ out snake hunting alone?”

“Not today,” I tell him. “I’m headed to Best. My guides will be along shortly.”

Amos whistles. “Well now. Ain’t that something, first time on the Low Road. You know I see ’em all go out, don’t always see ’em come back in.”

“You’ll see me, Amos.”

“You know, I do believe that. What I want to know is, was that really you gave Dollarhide that shiner?”

“Whoever it was, I’m sure he had it coming,” I say with a nonchalant shrug, but Amos isn’t fooled.

“Ha! I knew it,” he laughs, teeth flashing white against his darker skin. “He was out here at dawn, still tangle-legged. You watch out for that one, Willie, he’ll be after you with a sharp stick. That your party?”

From the Homestead road I see the Garrett brothers walking, and just like that I feel woefully outgunned. It’s one thing to know you’re hiring hunters and another to see them decked out like the cavalry. Curtis has two long-nosed revolvers at his hips and a bandolier slung across his chest, the cartridges shining like so many rows of teeth. The hilt of a sabre juts up from his back, and his throat and forearms are covered with thick leather guards. Benjamin, too, is wearing the leather guards and a wide-brimmed hat tugged low over his forehead. He’s carrying a revolver at his waist and a rifle on his back, the sun glinting off the polished metal. Best of all, in one hand he’s got the lead of shaggy gray mule loaded with supplies.

“Where’d you find that piece of crow bait?” I call, walking to meet them.

“You hush,” Curtis answers, patting the mule’s nose. “Nana here is the finest pack animal that ever was. Show some respect to your elders.”

The Garretts come to a halt and the mule eyes me with disinterest.

“Howdy, Nana,” I say, and she gives me a slow blink. “I didn’t think there were any soft animals left. Never thought I’d be so happy to see a mule.”

“She’s too tough even for the shakes to take. Load her up, then,” Curtis says, and I hand him my bedroll and sack to add to Nana’s packs.

Benjamin hasn’t said anything, and I can’t make out his expression under his hat. In the spirit of forgiveness, I vow to make a fresh start with him.

“Morning,” I say politely, and get a grunt for my troubles.

“You’ll have to excuse him,” Curtis says. “Early mornings make my brother a touch grumpy.”

“How can you tell the difference?” So much for a fresh start.