Outlawed(63)

We could lie together only for a short while, our wounded bodies pressed against each other, before I heard voices outside and knew that the others would be coming in soon. We began to struggle back into our clothes, remembering the pain we’d put aside.

Agnes Rose entered the bunkhouse as we were buttoning our shirts, a small smile on her face the only acknowledgement of what she’d seen. She held out a walking stick made of an oak branch.

“Come on, Doc,” she said. “The Kid’s calling a meeting.”

Lark rose to help me up, but Agnes shook her head.

“I’ll help her,” she said. “You stay here. No offense, but this meeting’s not for you.”

The Kid looked powerful in a silver-gray silk suit jacket with a black shirt and black riding pants, all of it spotless even amid the red dust.

“Now is the time when all of our work comes to fruition,” the Kid said. “Tomorrow, we ride for Fiddleback. We take what should be ours.”

Cassie looked taken aback.

“We can’t go tomorrow,” she said. “Doc can’t even walk. And we haven’t found the right spot for the fire yet. We need at least another week.”

“We don’t have another week,” the Kid said. “People are counting on us.”

“Who’s counting on us?” Cassie asked. “Nobody even knows we exist.”

“Our nation is counting on us,” the Kid said. “The barren women of this country, from the Mississippi to the Pacific Ocean. They’re all counting on us, whether they know it or not. If we don’t help them, no one will.”

“The Pacific Ocean?” Cassie said. “I didn’t like this plan when it was just Fiddleback, and now it’s—well, I don’t even know what you’re saying. There are only eight of us, Kid.”

The Kid crossed to where Cassie sat.

“Do you remember what Christ said to Martha?” the Kid asked.

“You always do this, Kid,” Cassie said. “Don’t do this.”

“Christ said to Martha, ‘I am the resurrection and the life. He who believes in me, though he may die, he shall live. And whoever lives and believes in me shall never die.’ Do you understand, Cassie?”

“You know I’m not a good Christian, Kid,” Cassie said. “You need rest.”

“Christian?” the Kid shouted. “Christian? Cassie, Christ was only an example, a messenger if you will. He came to teach us that when we have righteousness within us, we can never be killed, because what is right can never die. You see, don’t you, Agnes Rose? News? We are the resurrection and the life.”

The Kid’s speech was fast and breathless; the Kid’s eyes made me think of a fire burning itself out. Lo and Texas looked at each other, and Elzy looked at Cassie, all their gazes crackling with unease. Finally Agnes Rose spoke.

“All those people counting on us,” she said, “they need us to be smart. We can’t rush off without a finished plan. Let’s take two days. By then Doc might be healed enough to ride, and News can pick a place for the fire. Just one extra day, Kid. I guarantee you won’t regret it.” As she finished, she gave me a pointed look.

“I agree,” I said. “I feel the calling you’re talking about, Kid. I’ve felt it since I got here. If you go tomorrow, I’ll have to stay behind. I won’t be able to do what I’m called to do.”

The Kid walked around the firepit to stare down at me with violent eyes. I braced myself as though for a kick or punch.

“You’re right,” the Kid said. “It should be all of us. Two days. Two days, and then we ride to Fiddleback. Who’s ready to remake the world?”

There was a split-second of silence, and then Agnes Rose led the circle in a half-hearted cheer.

When everyone else was asleep—Lark on a makeshift bed of feed sacks and horse blankets—I found the Kid in the orchard, sitting on the stump where I’d first learned to shoot. The pear trees were blooming, white blossoms in frothy clusters that shone in the moonlight. You’d never know the fruit was rock-hard and bitter as medicine. I sat next to the Kid in the cold grass.

“How long has it been since you slept?” I asked.

“I’ve been sleeping just fine,” the Kid said. “I just came out here to do some thinking.”

The Kid sounded so ordinary, I almost believed it.

“What are you thinking about?” I asked.

“Same as ever,” the Kid said. “Fiddleback. What can go wrong. What will go wrong. How to remedy it when it does.”

“You sounded a lot more confident earlier tonight,” I said. “It sounded like you thought we couldn’t possibly fail.”

“Of course we can fail,” the Kid said. “The fire might not catch, or the safe might be too sturdy for our bombs, or the wagon might lose a wheel, or the sheriff’s posse might run us down and hang all of us. I’d wager we’re far more likely to fail than to succeed.”

“But back at the firepit, you said—”

“I know what I said!”

The Kid’s voice was loud in the quiet night. Something took off from one of the pear trees and flapped away on dark wings.

“I just get a little carried away sometimes,” the Kid said, a bit more quietly. “They all understand that. They know not to take what I say as gospel.”