by David Fuller
Siringo handed Longbaugh’s Colt Peacemaker back to him.
“A man simply cannot arrest a ghost.”
• • •
THE DAY DAWNED clear and bright with a pale blue sky. The puddles were long and narrow and still as glass. The cobblestones lost their shine as the day baked them dry. The sun was heavy-hot, and thick moisture hung in the air after the scrubbing from the storm. The city waited for a fresh breeze that did not come until late in the evening, and then did not last long. The people did not notice that there were fewer and fewer horses on the streets. Electricity was already being taken for granted, and more people owned telephones. It would be another full year before the continent of Europe went to war.
The heat held on for that week and beyond, and it wasn’t long before the leaves turned brittle and browned at the tips.
The man who had once been a legend looked over the rail to the waves creaming along the side of the ship steaming for England. His hand grazed the arm of the woman he loved, and she turned warm eyes to him. Looking past him, she saw that New York was almost gone on the horizon, and she got a look in her eyes, as if thinking of something unexpected. She unpinned her hat, took it in hand, cocked her arm, and let it fly high in the air. The wind caught it and carried it out there to land on a wave, where it fell back and away, and then the hat as well as the city on the horizon were gone.
Together they turned their heads and looked to the ocean ahead, her unpinned hair streaming out and caressing his face.
Acknowledgments
This work of fiction was supported by research, although historians will note that I moved the opening of the Armory Show to later in the year 1913. A significant number of well-known individuals did indeed attend that night, including Lillian Wald and T.R. The remains of the Dutch ship Tijger were discovered during the digging of the subway in the same location as in the novel, but in 1916. There are other slights to history, some of them inadvertent, but wherever possible I have attempted to be accurate.
Picasso’s sculpture Bust is now known as Head of a Woman. Barnard’s sculpture Prodigal Son is now known as The Prodigal Son and His Father.
The real Harry spelled his name Longabaugh, although other family members may have spelled it differently. I have chosen to use “Longbaugh” in order to make the character my own. I find it reads more easily on the page, and sounds better in the mind.
Rick Natkin was there at the beginning, and graciously gave his benediction.
Thanks to early readers of the manuscript, Glenn Harcourt and Carter Scholz.
Thanks to Hope Hanafin for wardrobe, ribbons, and petticoats. Thanks to Chelsea Field for her knowledge of horses.
Many books, documentaries, and websites were consulted during the research of the novel. Allow me to single out Luc Sante, Diana Allen Kouris, Kenneth T. Jackson, Eric Homberger, and Anne Meadows.
Thanks to Troy Kennedy-Martin.
William Goldman brought Sundance and Butch into the zeitgeist. If you know of them, it is because of his excellent words.
It has been my particular pleasure to work with the wise, amusing, and wonderfully thorough editor Jake Morrissey. I treasure his support.
A special bow to my agent, Deborah Schneider. You know what you’ve done. You know how much it means.
And, of course, thanks to my Liz, who goes along for each and every ride.
