Toil & Trouble

by Jessica Spotswood

  “Well,” she said, before the subject could come up again, “I’m ready for bed. See you in the morning, gentlemen.” They accepted the dismissal, Zeb tipping his hat in farewell, and she waited until they’d reached the barn before unlocking the door to the house.

  The first rays of moonlight shone through the windows, casting most of her strange possessions into shadow. Even within the safety of her walls, she felt conspicuous, as if the slightest noise would draw unwanted attention. Every creak in the floorboards made her cringe. Below them, a tributary ran underground from the spring, rising into a small pool beneath her kitchen. She opened the small trapdoor and inserted a tall, curved pipe, feeling the familiar tingle in her hands as they drew water up into a basin.

  Face washed, she filled a tin cup and silently pushed the remaining water back down the pipe. But as she carried the drink to her bedside, unpinning her hair with the other hand, her elbow bumped a huge pair of flat antlers. They knocked into a pile of metal contraptions, which fell over with a deafening crash and hit a lantern, shattering a glass pane that sliced into Elsa’s arm. She yelped, dropping her tin cup onto the floor with a final clank as she clamped a hand to the wound.

  A moment later, someone knocked at the door. “Miss Elsa?” Zeb called.

  Blood seeped from beneath her fingers. With help, she could bandage it without making a mess of everything, but he’d have to come inside for that. At least I haven’t stripped to my underclothes yet. “Are you alone?” she called.

  “I am,” he said. She unlocked the door and let him in. “What happened?”

  “I broke a lantern.” She held out her arm, still pressing against the injury. “There’s a spare sheet in the cupboard there—will you tear off a piece?”

  Zeb jumped to obey, but halfway across the room, he let out a muffled screech.

  “It’s stuffed!” Elsa said, realizing he’d spotted the snake. “It’s not real!”

  He put a hand to his heart and hurried to the cupboard while she used the leftover basin water to clean up the blood. Then she sat on the edge of the bed and let him wrap her arm. “How does that feel?” he asked when he finished.

  “It stings,” she admitted, “but I’ll survive.” Stronger than the pain was a bittersweet grief—the last time she’d touched another person had been a goodbye hug with her father. “You make a fine doctor,” she said, surprised by her desire to keep Zeb near a few more minutes.

  “I bandaged many a wound in the Army.”

  He tried to keep his eyes cast down, but Elsa knew he was dying to see. “Go ahead,” she said, laughing. “Look around.” She wondered what he must think, not only of the bizarre collection, but of how it amused her to arrange it. A black top hat sat upon a blue wig made of horsehair, which sat atop a small stone bust of George Washington. A pair of gold horseshoes and a child’s doll made of cornhusks hung on a post beside a frame that housed winged insects stuck with pins. Stacks of books tottered in the far corner, organized by color to create a rainbow.

  “This is...quite a room,” Zeb said at last.

  “My father was a Comanchero,” she said. “He always brought gifts home.”

  Zeb nodded. “How long has he been gone?”

  Her face flushed in the dark. She should have abandoned mourning clothes a long time ago, but replacing them either meant a trip to town or sewing a dress from blankets, so she’d made do with clumsy alterations. The frayed hems and too-short sleeves were suddenly embarrassing. “About three years,” she said.

  “That’s a long time to be alone.”

  “I don’t mind.” Or didn’t. Until now.

  He studied her. “My father was a shopkeeper, back in Tennessee. His collections weren’t quite this impressive, but he had a fine selection of rare coins and postcards.”

  Elsa smiled. “Tennessee is a far piece. The Army brought you here?”

  His own smile faltered. “Partway,” he said, and lowered his voice. “I was stationed at Fort Sill.”

  “I suspected as much,” she said. He raised his eyebrows. “When I asked about General Mackenzie. You seemed...”

  “Never did have much of a poker face,” he said, shaking his head, and his voice dropped to a whisper. “I couldn’t stand it. He made us kill those horses and leave those people behind to die.”

  Elsa reached out without thinking, placing her hand on his forearm. She couldn’t tell if it was the injury or the connection that made her skin feel warm all over. His eyes avoided hers, so she took the opportunity to study him—the brown beard, slightly lighter than his shaggy hair; the crooked nose, maybe broken in childhood; the abrupt change from tan to pale skin underneath his collar.

  He looked up. “All those women and children, and now the ones that lived the winter are stuck on that reservation in the Wichitas, trying to survive on rations that ain’t worth the bugs that’s mixed in ’em... I done a lot of things for the Army that I’m proud of, but a lot more that I ain’t, and when Del said he and Roy was leaving...” Elsa tightened her grip and he looked down. “Anyway, ma’am,” he said, staring at her hand. “If they come looking for us, you won’t be at risk.”

  “I’m well-known to the Army,” she assured him. “They’ve drunk from my well often. But I appreciate your help.” It was unexpectedly hard to let go of his arm.

  Zeb stood up. “I’m happy to be at your service,” he said, and took another glance around the room. “Miss Elsa...”

  “Yes?” she prompted.

  His eyes went to the key on its leather necklace string. “Don’t tell Del and Roy what’s in this house,” he said. “Don’t tell ’em any more than you can manage.”

  “There’s little of value here,” she said. “Or rather, it’s only of value to me.”

  He frowned. “All the more reason they’d take it.”

  She studied the fine buttons on his shirt, wondering if they’d come all the way from his father’s shop. “I hope your future and theirs diverge soon.”

  “Oh, they will,” he assured her. “Just as soon as I get ’em clear of you. I’d planned to lose them in this wild country and head on to Santa Fe before this horse business happened.”

  Elsa paused. “Bitty’s recovering well. You could take off anytime you like.”

  “Not ’til I get ’em clear of you,” he said again, and held out his hand. He pressed his lips to her wrist when she obliged. “I may not be a good man, but those two are downright bad, and I won’t leave my problems here for you to solve.”

  He let go of Elsa and closed the door quietly behind him. It was several more hours before she could sleep.

  * * *

  After that evening, the mood on the homestead changed. Delbert and Roy hadn’t eavesdropped on the conversation—they lacked the stealth to get within fifty feet without Elsa hearing them—but they grew antagonistic toward Zeb. Though Elsa gave the orders, they pretended Zeb was their taskmaster, making constant snide comments about his eagerness to please “the missus.”

  Zeb, meanwhile, worked from dawn to dusk. He ignored their comments in his direction, but met any slight toward Elsa with increasingly sharp rebukes. There weren’t enough supplies for him to make her bacon again, but every morning at sunrise, he shared his dwindling coffee stores and some quiet conversation with her on the porch.

  Elsa felt both disconcerted and touched by his gestures. It had been years since someone had cared for her, but aside from fetching him water at the hottest part of the day, she wasn’t sure how to reciprocate without making things worse. She wanted to invite him inside for dinners, but just loaning the man a book had done plenty. “Look at the city boy!” Roy’d called, spotting Zeb reading one evening. “Whoo hoo, he’s a fancy one!”

  Delbert spit to the side. “What’cha reading, fancy boy?”

  Zeb held up the cover as if his answer mattered. “Captain Marcy’s guidebook.”
r />   “Well,” Roy said, glancing at Delbert for approval. “Ain’t you...fancy.”

  “Can’t hurt to learn up before I try this trip on my own.”

  Roy’s eyes narrowed. “You’ll be leavin’ soon then?”

  Zeb put the book down. “I reckon Bitty’s as ready as she’ll ever be.”

  “Tomorrow?” Delbert clasped his hands behind his back. “Or the next day?”

  “Tomorrow morning, I was thinking.”

  Elsa listened from inside the house, feeling choked. Tomorrow was at least a week later than she’d hoped, and yet...it felt too soon. “Zeb,” she said, stepping outside. “Are you sure?”

  He stood. “No time like the present.” He turned to Delbert and Roy. “I’d appreciate if you’d put together your extra supplies for me. Canteens, matches, whatever you can spare. I’ll pick up replacements when I reach the fort.”

  Elsa touched her throat. The fort. She’d been wondering if he’d take that risk. “Zeb,” she whispered, when the other two had walked away. “You’ve got to go on, to Santa Fe.”

  “There’s just as much Army there,” he said in a low voice. “I got to take the risk if we’re gonna get these boys movin’ on.”

  Elsa swallowed hard. “Come inside for a moment.”

  He looked around, checking that Del and Roy were out of sight, and followed her. The house was sweltering behind the closed shutters. “If you should...want to stay...” she began.

  “No,” he interrupted. “They can’t stay here.”

  “But once you’ve returned,” she said. “If you should...care to stay on a bit, here. With me.”

  His eyes widened, and for a moment, she thought him frightened. Then he smiled. “Well. I’d be delighted to stay on.” Slowly, he reached for her hands, holding them between their bodies. “For as long as you’ll have me, I reckon.”

  A smile spread over Elsa’s face, too. “Delighted,” she repeated. But the reality of their situation couldn’t be ignored. “I’ll make a map of the watering holes. I know them all, for a hundred miles or more.”

  “How?” he asked. “You said you’d never been farther than—”

  “Never mind that. For now, you just...you just come on back to me quick as you can.”

  “I tell you what,” he said. “Once I’ve been gone a week, leave a candle in the window. Then I’m sure to find my way. I promise.”

  Elsa appreciated the sentiment even if she doubted he could ensure its veracity. “I’ll keep a light on.” She squeezed his fingers. “Even if I have to burn the whole place down.”

  “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.”

  “A poor joke,” she admitted, then scowled. “I can think of better ways to deal with Delbert and Roy, anyway.”

  He frowned. “I wouldn’t leave you here alone if I thought they’d hurt you. Despite their many flaws, they’re generally opposed to violence against ladies.”

  “How chivalrous. So my virtue is not at risk?” Elsa asked, trying to lighten the mood.

  Zeb cleared his throat. “Well. Roy is no threat, given an, um...unfortunate injury.”

  “Oh?”

  “Let’s just say he hasn’t enjoyed the company of a woman in quite some time.”

  Elsa wasn’t sure whether she felt sympathy exactly, but his embarrassment about the privy made more sense now.

  “And Delbert is...somewhat picky.”

  Elsa cocked an eyebrow. “Meaning?”

  “He prefers his women on...the paler side.”

  The insult would have stung under other circumstances, but given the situation, she said, “Well, he’s a bit old for my tastes, so thank the Lord for small miracles.”

  Zeb laughed and took her face in his hands. “Believe me when I say, you’re the most beautiful woman for hundreds of miles.”

  “I’m the only woman for hundreds of miles,” she pointed out, but let him press his lips to hers regardless.

  * * *

  Watching Zeb ride away was one of the worst moments of Elsa’s life.

  Her mother’s death had been slow, a disease consuming her from inside while Elsa and Domingo could do nothing but watch. When her father died, it was much the same: Elsa watched the horizon with dwindling hope, until winter arrived and blew away all chances of his return.

  Now Zeb disappeared into the distance, and Elsa watched until he was nothing more than a mirage. The flutters of first love were all mixed up with the twisting nausea of fear and abandonment. She wanted to stay at the porch rail until he reappeared, but survival on the Llano didn’t allow for flights of fancy.

  So she forced herself away and found the other men lounging on the shady side of the barn. Roy lay on the grass, leaning back against his saddle, while Delbert sat on the fence cleaning his rifle. “Gentlemen,” she said, nodding in their direction.

  “Ma’am,” Delbert said, with more than a hint of sarcasm.

  “Deer often venture out to the escarpment for feed this time of year,” she said. “I wondered if you two might be so kind as to see if you can rustle us up one.” It was still hot, but fall was getting on, and she’d need stores for winter if she was going to survive the Llano’s blizzards.

  Delbert spit, narrowly missing his own knee. “Well, the thing is, Roy and I got other plans for today.”

  “Oh?” She put a hand on her hip. “And they are?”

  Roy, chewing on a stem of grass, tipped his hat back to reveal his eyes. “You’re looking at ’em.” Del laughed as Roy pulled the hat back down and crossed his arms as if to nap.

  “Well,” Elsa said. She couldn’t force them, but if they thought she’d be making their dinner tonight, they’d be mighty surprised. “Enjoy your day then.” She headed back toward the house.

  “Wait,” Roy called, and she slowed. “We got a proposition for you.”

  She turned. “Our agreement was chores for the length of your stay.”

  Roy smiled, the stem moving to one side of his mouth. “Zeb made that arrangement. But Zeb’s gone now, ain’t he?”

  “He’ll be back,” Elsa said.

  Delbert jumped down from the fence. “You better hope so.”

  Elsa squashed a flicker of fear. “What’s your proposition then?”

  “Well,” Delbert said. “It seems mighty suspicious that a lady like you could live out here so long on her own. Seems you must have some kind of riches hidden inside that house.”

  Elsa was surprised this question hadn’t come up sooner. “Who would I trade with? Have you seen anyone wander by?” Delbert raised an eyebrow and she huffed. “Do you think I eat beans for dinner every day by choice?”

  He shrugged. “Well then. That means the Army ain’t likely to visit soon, which brings us to option two. Which ain’t an option so much as an order.”

  “I don’t take orders from you,” Elsa said.

  “You do now,” he said, patting the rifle.

  Elsa cursed herself for sending one of her guns with Zeb, and leaving the other inside. He’d seemed so sure she wouldn’t need it. She couldn’t believe he’d known this was their plan...which meant he’d misjudged them, a possibility that was no more comforting. “What is it you want?”

  Roy made a show of shining his handgun on his woolen pants. Elsa wished it would misfire and take whatever his previous injury had left behind. “Figured it’s about time you show us ’round the place.”

  Elsa straightened her back. “As I said, you’re welcome to the barn, but my home is my own.”

  Delbert gestured toward the house with the rifle. “Not anymore.”

  Fury and terror burned inside her like twin torches, but Elsa turned stiffly and proceeded up the path, the men following on her heels. At the door, she stopped and took a deep breath. “I fear you will be mighty disappointed—” she started.

  Roy pushed her.
“Just open the damn door.”

  It swung wide, bright sunlight slicing into the room. Roy whooped as the glint from the horseshoes blinded him, but his elation turned to irritation as he inspected more closely. “What is this mess of metal?”

  She shrugged. “Old traps, mostly.”

  Delbert sifted through a stack of cigar boxes, casting each aside as he found seashells and stones instead of jewels. “Where d’you keep the good stuff?” he demanded.

  “This is all there is,” Elsa said. Her revolver lay near the washbasin, and she tried to edge closer without their notice.

  But Roy whirled around and caught sight of her goal. “You stay where you are.” He stomped across the floor and held both weapons pointed at her chest. “Don’t reckon you’ll be needin’ this little six-shooter anytime soon.”

  Elsa forced her panic down. Her knives were out of reach, and Delbert removed her machete from the wall, swinging it sarcastically. “Nothing but a heap of junk.” He spit on the bearskin rug. Its white fur didn’t even register as strange, much less valuable.

  “You’re a mighty big disappointment, Miss Elsa.” Roy took the top hat from George Washington and used it to replace his own. “We was planning to pack your riches onto the mule and head to Mexico.”

  Delbert turned to the pantry and picked through its contents, taking whatever food appealed to him. “But now you’re stuck with us.” He held out a jar. “How you feel about pickles, Roy?”

  “Rather eat ’em than be in one.”

  They both cackled. Elsa watched them pick over her supplies, taking more food, the matches, most of her candles, several dishes, and all the silver. The books, of course, were left untouched, but the buffalo robe, her box of tools, the traps, and an Apache bow and arrow all went out the door.

  Fine, Elsa thought. Let them humiliate me. I can survive just fine without their help, certainly until Zeb gets back.

  Delbert set his spoils on the porch. “Roy,” he said, “go fetch that wood.”

  Elsa watched Roy walk to the barn and return with an armful of planks torn from Otis’s stall. “You get on inside then, Elsie,” he said, dropping the wood and wiping his face.