“We won’t look,” Virgil said.
“Will you come down and stand close while we go in the water?” Mary Beth said.
“Sure,” Virgil said.
He went with them, and when they got to the stream he turned his back. I made fire out of some dead cottonwood branches. Didn’t make a good fire. But it would be enough to cook. Pony was slicing salt pork into a fry pan. After I got the fire built I put some biscuits in a Dutch oven and put it next to the fire.
After a time, the women came up from the water, wearing a couple of blankets. Their clothes were draped in the warm wind over the lower branches of one of the cottonwoods. They sat close to Virgil while we ate lunch. By the time we were ready to move on, their clothes were dry enough to wear, and we looked away again while they dressed.
We rode northeast all the rest of the day. Laurel stayed close to her mother, and her mother stayed close to Virgil. As far as they were concerned, it was as if me and Pony were along to carry Virgil’s ammunition.
When it was dark, we made camp and sat around the fire with the whiskey jug.
“When we get to Brimstone,” Virgil said, “you gonna be able to handle the farm by yourselves?”
“Oh my God,” Mary Beth said. “My cow. She has to be milked. What happened to my cow?”
“She’s okay,” Virgil said. “Got somebody looking after her.”
Mary Beth nodded and looked at Laurel. Laurel looked blank. She had a little whiskey in a tin cup and sipped it now and then. Otherwise, she was still. Mary Beth drank some of her whiskey.
“You asked me something,” she said to Virgil.
“Can you work the farm by yourself?”
Mary Beth took another swallow of whiskey and let it rest in her mouth for a time before she swallowed.
“I don’t know,” she said. “I can cook and sew and milk the cow and grow vegetables. I don’t know about plowing and digging and hauling. My husband always did that.”
“Got any money to hire a hand?” I said.
She seemed startled that I was there. She looked at me long enough to say “No.” And then looked back at Virgil.
“Maybe Brother Percival would donate somebody,” I said to Virgil.
“But we can’t be alone,” Mary Beth said.
“Maybe we can arrange a hand,” I said.
“No,” Virgil said. “She means she can’t be alone.”
“Anywhere,” I said.
Mary Beth nodded. Laurel was still.
“Anywhere,” Virgil said.
“That makes it a little harder,” I said.
I handed the whiskey jug to Pony; he took a pull and passed it on to Mary Beth. She fastidiously wiped the mouth of the jug with the bottom of her skirt, and poured some whiskey into her cup.
“Can’t be alone,” she said.
34
THE NEXT DAY WE CAME to the Paiute, and a day later, riding up the low rise from the river, we saw the Ostermueller farm. The draught horses that had followed us all the way broke into a trot and went past us, heading for the stock shed. We paused. Virgil glanced at the women. As we sat, tears started down Mary Beth’s face.
“Want to stop off here?” Virgil said.
Mary Beth shook her head.
Laurel suddenly kicked her horse in the ribs and hung on to the saddle horn as he broke into a gallop. Pony went after her and caught her as her horse, getting no instructions from its rider, slowed to a walk. He caught the bridle and they stopped. Laurel stayed hunched over the saddle horn, her face turned away from the farmhouse. Pony looked back at Virgil. Virgil gestured toward town. Pony shrugged and let go of the harness, and rode beside her as they went toward Brimstone. As soon as we were past the farm, Laurel slowed her horse until Virgil came up.
“The horses,” Mary Beth said.
“Everett’ll take care of them, for now,” Virgil said. “Till we get you settled.”
Mary Beth nodded. They kept riding.
The horses were standing blankly in the stock shed. I tethered my horse, gave the draught horses more food than they needed, and filled the drinking trough. One of the horses paused while he was eating and put his head over into the empty stall where the milk cow had stood. He stood for a moment like that. Then he went back to eating. I put some fresh hay on the floor, hooked the stall gates, and rode after the others.
I caught up with them at the edge of town. We rode in before noon, tied the mule and the horses to the rail in front of the sheriff’s office, and went in. Virgil put two chairs out for the women. Then he went and sat at the desk. Laurel sat in the chair nearest Virgil. I took my usual chair, and leaned the eight-gauge against the wall next to me. Pony leaned on the wall by the door.
“Here’s what we’re going to do,” Virgil said. “We’re going to get you a nice room at the hotel. They…”
“No,” Mary Beth said. “No. Not alone. You can’t leave us. Don’t leave us. He’ll come back. He’ll come right into town.”
Virgil waited. Laurel sat stiff in her chair. Mary Beth started to cry.
“No, please, no…” And then the sobbing overcame her and she couldn’t talk.
“We won’t leave you alone,” Virgil said quietly.
She was too committed to crying to stop all at once. But she cried more gently.
“We get you a room,” Virgil said, “that looks out on the lobby. One of us, me, Everett, or Pony…”
He looked at Pony. Pony nodded.
Virgil continued.
“… be sitting right there in the lobby.”
“He’ll sneak in on us. He’ll come in while we’re sleeping,” Mary Beth said.
“Be on the second floor,” Virgil said. “You keep your window locked. And we’ll give you a bell.”
“Bell?”
“Cowbell,” Virgil said. “He ain’t gonna know what room you’re in. If he does, he ain’t gonna climb up the side of the wall. If he could, he’d have to break the window and you’d hear him and ring the bell and we come running.”
“What if he kills you?”
“We been doing this kind of work for a long time,” Virgil said. “Nobody’s killed us yet.”
Mary Beth was shaking her head.
“Won’t be for long, just while we arrange something for you,” Virgil said. “I’ll have my… I’ll have a woman I know come in and see to you. Bring you clothes, things like that. She been through some of what you been through.”
“She has? Can she be alone?”
Virgil and I looked at each other.
“She’s managing it,” Virgil said.
“Well, I can’t manage it,” she said. “And neither can Laurel.”
“Mary Beth,” I said. “No such thing as perfect safety. You are as safe now as you have ever been in your life. Or ever will be.”
Mary Beth looked at her daughter. Laurel was stiff, and her body was all angles. She registered nothing.
“Lady,” Pony said softly from the doorway. “He will not hurt you. I promise he will not.”
“What if they don’t have a room that you can see the lobby?” she said.
“They will,” Virgil said.
Mary Beth had stopped crying.
“This is as safe as I’m ever going to be,” she said.
“Or ever were,” I said.
“What Everett means,” Virgil said, “is safe is more how you feel than how things are. You’re safe. You just don’t feel it.”
Mary Beth nodded.
“Two weeks ago,” I said, “you felt safe in your house. And you weren’t. Now you don’t feel safe with us. And you are.”
“Safe and not safe is mostly in your head,” Virgil said.
He stood and put out one hand each to Mary Beth and Laurel. Mary Beth took it. Laurel didn’t. Virgil didn’t seem to notice, except that I knew he did, because Virgil notices everything.
“Here we go,” Virgil said.
The women hesitated.
“Bring the eight-gauge,” Virgil said to me. “Make everyone feel safer.”
“Including you?” I said.
Virgil grinned.
“ ’Specially me,” he said.
The women stood. Mary Beth first, then Laurel. And we went out of the sheriff’s office and walked down to the hotel, Laurel holding on to Virgil’s left sleeve. The chances of Buffalo Calf coming into town were very small. The chance that he even knew the women weren’t in Mexico was very small. But the women were so scared I found myself keeping an eye out.