by John Locke
I’d wondered the same thing.
I jumped on Major’s back. Heard Mary say, “They couldn’t.”
She was right. It was as if they’d been stuck to their saddles.
“She did it!” Mary yelled, pointin’ at Rose. “She’s a witch!”
“Shut up, Mary!” Phoebe scolded. “She just saved our lives!”
Had she?
I dug my heels into Major’s flanks and forced him up the hill.
33.
Bose had been right about one thing.
There weren’t many trees on the hill.
But he was wrong about Earl Grubbs fuckin’ Gentry under one of ’em.
Earl was lyin’ face down in the grass, dead as a doornail, by Gentry’s feet. She was holdin’ Earl’s horse on a lead line.
“You okay?” I hollered as I rode up to her.
“I’m fine,” she said. “How’s Scarlett?”
I climbed off my horse. Gentry dropped the lead line and threw her arms around me and held me like I was a post and everythin’ around us was a cyclone. Like if she let go, she might get swept away. The poultice on her face was all dry and cracked, and curled in places. It didn’t seem to smell half as bad as before.
“How’d you know about Scarlett?” I said.
Her face was in my coat, so her words came out muffled. “Rose told me.”
“What?”
“Rose told me.”
“What? When?”
“Couple minutes ago.”
I pulled away from her.
“What are you talkin’ about?” I said.
She looked at me like I was daft.
“Rose said Scarlett got hurt. You just left the camp, right? So I’m askin’ if she’s okay.”
I shook my head.
“She ain’t. But she’s alive.”
“Thank God.”
“What do you mean you saw Rose just now?”
“I didn’t see her. I—” she seemed confused.
“You what?” I said.
“I—I don’t know. I—someone was telling me those things. In my head. It sounded like Rose’s voice, and it seemed quite normal at the time. But…now that I’m saying it out loud…it…sounds crazy.”
It did sound crazy.
“Did he hurt you?” I said.
“He grabbed me a bit. But not for long.”
“How’d you kill him?”
“Stabbed him.”
“With what?”
“I keep a knife in my dress,” she said. “I wiped it off already, on his pant leg.” She studied my face a moment and said, “Are you okay?”
“Of course.”
“Then hadn’t we better ride down the hill and see about Scarlett?”
I wondered if maybe she was in shock over what had happened to her. I mean, Rose couldn’t have been gored by a bull in the valley one second and talkin’ to Gentry the next. This tree was a half mile from where the bull had been.
“Did Rose happen to say anythin’ else?”
“She said she was checkin’ on me.”
“And you spoke to her?”
She frowned. “Did I dream it?”
“I don’t know.”
I really didn’t know. I only knew it made no sense. How did Rose escape the bull? How could she be up here talkin’ to Gentry, and down there, scarin’ Rennick’s horses away?
“You never saw Rose?” I said.
“Nope. I just heard a voice, and then…” she snapped her fingers.
“Then what?”
“It was gone.”
I held out my hands, exasperated. “Well, didn’t that spook you?” I said.
She gestured at Grubbs. “One minute Monique is screaming, and you run off. Then four riders show up out of nowhere and a bug-eyed lunatic grabs me by the arm and pulls me up on his horse and gallops to this tree. Then he throws me to the ground. This one gets off his horse and pulls a gun on me. The crazy-eyed man tells him to kill me, then him and two others ride down the hill. This one grabs me and says if I don’t give him a pop, he’s gonna shoot me. He starts pullin’ my dress up, and I stab him.”
“I figured that out already,” I said.
“Well, after dealin’ with killers and rapers, why the hell would I’d be spooked by the voice of a witch in my head?”
I took off my hat with one hand and smoothed my hair with the other. Then put my hat back on and said, “That’s dangerous talk, callin’ someone a witch.”
“Oh, come on, Emmett. You know she’s a witch. Everyone knows it.”
“It’s loose talk, is what it is.”
Gentry frowned. “Are you serious? The woman is twenty! Forgettin’ the fact she claims to have lived with pirates 150 years ago, she’s buried six husbands! She sees things comin’ that ain’t even left where they’re coming from! She talks to horses! She sniffs truth out of liars! She cooks food for people who ain’t showed up yet, and knows how many there’ll be for breakfast, and what they like to eat. She can tell who’s fornicatin’ with who, and knows about titty contests that took place forty miles away. She’s a witch, Emmett. A good one, maybe, but a witch all the same.”
“There must be a different explanation.”
“Well, until we come up with one, she’s a witch.”
I stared at her a minute.
“You’re not jealous of Rose, are you?”
“Of course not!”
“Well, I can see where some might raise an eyebrow over the fact we travel together.”
“Oh, hell, Emmett. Anyone can see there’s nothin’ between you but friendship. You’re like brother and sister. Anyways, if she was interested in you, she would’ve put a love spell on you long ago. And if you were interested in her, she’d have turned you into a newt by now.”
I got on Major’s back. “You ready to go?”
“What about the dead guy?” she said.
“We’ll leave Earl Grubbs to the grubs.”
“I’m okay with that,” she said.
She climbed on Earl’s horse and followed me down the hill.
34.
“How’d you escape the bull?”
We were back in camp. Shrug and Phoebe were sittin’ with Hannah. Gentry was tellin’ her story to the whores as they sat around the stones we’d placed for last night’s campfire. Rose and me were in the wagon with Scarlett, who was lyin’ face down, stark naked, her face to one side. Her eyes were closed and she was unconscious, a good thing, since Rose was pourin’ sting juice on her wounds. Scarlett’s back, sides, and butt looked like a battlefield. She had gapin’ holes in her body, and where bones should be, I saw horrible bruises formin’. Some of her ribs were clearly broken, but she’d be lucky if that was the worst of it. I’d seen men with lesser wounds who never made it off the doctor’s table.
But Scarlett was in the best hands in the West, far as I was concerned. Rose had saved me and several others I’d brought to her for fixin’, though none this bad. Still, if anyone could bring Scarlett back to normal, it’d be Rose.
I watched her rummage around in the leather bag she used for her doctorin’ supplies. She produced a bottle that had some clear liquid in it, and poured a useful amount on a piece of cloth, handed it to me and said, “Hold this against her nose for five seconds, and again, if she jumps or hollers.”
“What is it?”
“Something to keep her asleep while I stitch her up.”
I did as told, and watched Rose thread a needle with some sort of thick cord.
“That ain’t silk thread,” I said.
“Sometimes silk thread isn’t enough,” she said.
“It smells like tar. What is it?”
“Catgut.”
I took a closer look, then lowered my voice so as not to alarm the others. “Do you mean to tell me you’re sewin’ her up with the guts of an actual cat?”
“Of course not!” she said.
“Well, thank the Lord for that,” I said, glad to know she wasn’t stayin’ up ni
ghts carvin’ cats.
“I use the intestines of sheep and goats,” she said, as she plunged the needle into a partic’larly nasty gash and pulled the catgut through the hole. She worked fast and efficiently, and in no time had the worst wound closed. Then she poured some more sting juice on it.
“You cut that cord out of livestock?” I said.
“It’s a natural fiber in the walls of the intestines. I just strip it out, and work it with a cloth ‘til it’s smooth.”
“I never heard of such.”
“You’d be amazed how much cord you can get from a single goat,” she said. “When I slaughter one for food, I get a year’s worth of cord.”
“Who knew that about goats,” I said. “You kill ’em, and eat ’em, and they wind up savin’ your life.”
Scarlett moaned, and her body jerked sharply. I put the cloth under her nose again and she went quiet. I watched Rose stitch some more wounds. “Don’t them intestines cause infection?”
She gave me a curious look. “Why yes, they do, Emmett. But I soak them in phenol to make them sterile.”
“Phenol?”
“It’s a chemical. That’s where the tar smell comes from.”
While Rose worked, I thought about what Mary and Gentry had said about her bein’ a witch. I’d known her awhile, and knew she did witchy things, but never considered her a true witch. As one who never believed in witches, how was I supposed to suddenly think of her as one? And if it’s true that witches were roamin’ the earth, what else would I have to believe? That there’s ghosts and goblins and haints? I sure hoped to hell I wouldn’t have to deal with a haint someday.
Rose stopped a minute and sighed. “This girl’s in trouble.” She closed her eyes and lifted her head up, like she needed a break.
“How’d you escape the bull?” I said.
“Don’t worry about the bull,” she said.
“You were there one minute, the bull charged then you were gone.”
“It just appeared that way to you.”
“It appeared that way to all of us,” I said. “Includin’ the bull!”
Rose sighed again, lowered her head, opened her eyes. “Let’s focus on Scarlett, okay?”
“Fine,” I said. But I didn’t plan to let the subject die. Not ’til I had some answers.
35.
Rose finished the stitchin’, poured some more sting juice on the wounds, and shook the dust out of Scarlett’s underthings. Then she poured a different kind of liquid on the underthings and pressed them against Scarlett’s stitches. She pushed Scarlett onto her side, and made a pillow out of Scarlett’s dress and placed it under her cheek. Then she collected her medical supplies and placed ’em in the bag.
“You saved her, didn’t you!”
“Not for long.”
“What do you mean?”
She shook her head. “There’s not much more I can do, under the circumstances.”
“How bad is she?”
“Honestly? I don’t think she’s going to make it.”
“She’ll make it,” I said.
Rose looked at me as if waitin’ for an explanation.
“She’s hearty,” I said.
Rose kept studyin’ my face.
“I don’t know what else to tell you,” I said, “except that the West needs women like Scarlett, and she’s the kind of woman that survives.”
“She’s hurt pretty badly, Emmett.”
“I know.”
“I’ve stitched her up as good as I can, and I have what I need to prevent infection. But her stitches are going to burst as soon as the wagon starts moving.”
“We can’t get where we’re goin’ without movin’ the wagon,” I said.
“What she needs is a bed, and someone to care for her.”
“That’s all?”
“That, and time. It’ll take at least six months to heal her broken bones.”
“Six months?”
“Assuming her back isn’t broken.”
“And if it is?”
“She’ll never walk again.”
“Shit,” I said.
We were quiet a moment.
“You like her,” Rose said.
“I do.”
“I’m sorry, Emmett. But she won’t survive ten minutes riding in this wagon.”
“You’re positive about that?”
“I am. And she can’t ride a horse.”
“Well, a’ course not.”
“And we can’t stay here with her.”
I nodded.
I looked at the women across the way. Gentry had finished tellin’ her tale, and now they were castin’ a close watch on Rose. And whisperin’.
I said, “They think you’re a witch.”
She made a sound that weren’t exactly like a laugh, but close to one.
“What’s so funny?”
“I’ve been called worse.”
“You have?”
I wondered what worse thing you could call a woman.
“Let it go, Emmett.”
“I’m tryin’ to, Rose, I surely am. But you seemed to just disappear. Then you showed up, outta nowhere, and spooked them horses like I never seen horses spooked. And Gentry says she heard you speakin’ to her in her head, and says you told her about Scarlett.”
“Oh, Emmett,” she sighed.
“What?”
“Those are just parlor tricks.”
“Parlor tricks?”
“That’s all it was.”
“Must be one helluva parlor where you come from,” I said.
She put her hands in front of her, elbows at her sides, palms facing up. “Your expertise is the physical world, mine is the metaphysical.”
“I have no idea what you’re sayin’.”
“Trickery.”
“What about it?”
“It’s not your strong suit. Remember the fish in the water barrel?”
“You heard me tell that story? You couldn’t have! You were in the other wagon!”
“You’ve told that story a dozen times since I’ve known you. And you never figured it out.”
That was true.
“So you ain’t a witch?”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” she said.
I pointed at the others. “Well, they think you are. And that could be a problem.”
“You think so?”
“I do.”
“Then maybe you should ask them.”
That took me by surprise. “What do you mean?”
“I bet they’ll only remember that Scarlett got gored by a bull, and you shot it, and Gentry killed a man and took his horse.”
I looked across the way and noticed the women had stopped lookin’ at Rose. 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. “However…”
I waited.
“What if we tied the lean-to between the two horses?”
“I can’t trust Earl’s horse not to buck or kick,” I said. “And if he does, that would be worse than haulin’ Scarlett in the wagon.”
