‘What does that mean?’
‘I can’t tell if you’re happy or sad or mad or what you are.’
‘I am sick.’
‘How are you sick?’
She produced from her dress pocket a handkerchief with dried bloodstains on it, flaunting this with a ghoulish amusement. But I did not take it lightly, and in fact was outraged by the sight of the stains. Mindlessly then, I asked if she was dying. Her expression was downcast and I sputtered my apologies: ‘Don’t answer that. I have had too much to drink. Will you forgive me? Please, say you will.’
She did not, but neither did she appear to be holding a grudge, and I decided to carry on just as if I had not made the blunder. As casually as I could manage, I said, ‘Where are you going now, can I ask?’
‘I have no place in mind. There is no other place than this hotel, at night.’
‘Well,’ I said, clucking my tongue, ‘it seems that you were waiting for me out here.’
‘I was not.’
‘You left the door open, that I might follow after you.’
‘I did not.’
‘I think you probably did.’
I heard a creaking down the hall; the woman and I turned to find one of the trappers standing at the top of the stairway. He had been eavesdropping, and his face was unsmiling. ‘You should get to your room now,’ he said to her.
‘How is that your concern?’ she asked.
‘Don’t I work for the man?’
‘Don’t I? I am speaking to a guest of his.’
‘There will be problems if you keep it up.’
‘Problems with whom?’
‘You know. Him.’
‘You,’ I said to the trapper.
‘What?’
‘Go right away from here.’
The man paused, then plunged a hand in his blue-black beard, itching at his cheek and jaw. He turned and walked back down the stairs and the woman told me, ‘He follows me around the hotel. I have to keep my door locked at night.’
‘Mayfield is your man, is that it?’
She pointed to the whore-filled parlor. ‘He has no one woman.’ At my sunken expression, for this answer was suspiciously incomplete, she added, ‘But no, we are not connected. Once, perhaps, in a way.’
From behind the doors I could hear my brother’s high-volume laughter. Charlie has an unintelligent-sounding laugh. It is braying, is what it is. ‘This town is leaving a poor impression on me,’ I said.
The woman took a step toward me. Was she leaning in for a kiss? But no, she only had a secret to tell me: ‘I heard that trapper and the others talking about you and your brother. They have some plan against you. I couldn’t understand, exactly, but every other night they are drinking, and tonight they are not. You should be careful.’
‘I have had too much brandy to be careful.’
‘Then you had better return to your party. To stay close to Mayfield would be best, I think.’
‘No, I can’t stay another minute in there. I only want to sleep.’
‘Where has Mayfield put you?’
‘He hasn’t put me anywhere.’
‘I will find you a safe place,’ she said, and led me away to the far end of the hall, where she opened a door with a key from her pocket. She did this with care not to make a sound, and I found myself mimicking her cautious steps. We entered the darkened room and she closed the door behind us. She stood me against a wall and told me to stay still while she searched out a candle. I could not see her but listened to her movements—her footsteps, her hands rooting through drawers and over tabletops; I found this endearing, her nearness to me, her busyness, and my not knowing just what she was doing. I decided I liked her then; I was flattered she was devoting her time and concerns to me and I thought, I do not need much at all, to make me feel contented.
She lit a candle and drew open the curtains to let in the light of the moon. It was a hotel room just like any other, only there was a dust and staleness on the air, and she explained to me, ‘This is always vacant because the key was misplaced, and Mayfield’s too lazy to bring in a locksmith. Except the key wasn’t misplaced, I took it. I come here sometimes, when I want to be alone.’
Nodding politely, I said, ‘Yes, well, it is fairly obvious that you are in love with me!’
‘No,’ she said, coloring. ‘Not that.’
‘I can see it. Hopelessly in love, powerless to guard against it. You shouldn’t feel too badly about it, it has happened before. It seems that every time I walk down the road there comes a woman in my direction, her eyes filled up with passion and longing.’ I flopped onto the small bed, rolling around on the mattress. The woman was amused by me but not so much that she wished to stay any longer, and she returned to the door to leave. I jostled back and forth and the bed issued its plaintive squeaks and she told me, ‘You should stop that rolling on the bed. The trappers’ quarters are just beneath us.’
‘Oh, stop talking about them already. I don’t care about it, and there isn’t anything they can do to me.’
‘But they are killers,’ she whispered.
‘So am I!’ I whispered back.
‘What do you mean?’
There was something about the look on her face, her paleness and unsureness, it made me wild, and I was seized by a kind of cruelty or animal-mindedness. Standing, I shouted out: ‘Death stalks all of us upon this earth!’ These words came from I knew not where, and they inspired me terribly; I lurched away from the bed, taking up my pistol and firing a shot into the floorboards. The report was terrifically loud; it doubled off the walls and the room filled with smoke and the horrified woman spun on her heels and left me, locking the door with her key. I crossed over and unlocked it, opening it wide and sitting back on the tormented bed, my pistols drawn, cocked, and leveled. My heart was thudding and I was looking forward to an end-of-all-time fight, but after five minutes my eyes began growing heavy. After ten minutes I decided the trappers had not heard the shot. They were not in their room, or I had fired into a room that was not theirs. I gave up my adventure for dead. I brushed my teeth and went to sleep.
Chapter 30
It was sunny in the morning, and the open window carried cool air over my face as I lay in the bed. I was fully clothed and the door was closed and bolted. Had the bookkeeper returned in the night to protect me? I heard a key in the lock and she entered, sitting on the edge of the mattress and smiling. I asked after Charlie and she said he was fine. She invited me to go walking with her, and though she still looked only half living she was a sweet-smelling, powdered beauty, and appeared not unhappy to be visiting. Pulling myself up from the bed, I stepped to the window and propped myself against its frame, looking down over the road beneath the hotel. Men and women passed this way and that, saying their good mornings, bowing and tipping their hats. The woman cleared her throat and said, ‘Last night you said you couldn’t tell about me. Now I find myself thinking the same thing about you.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘For one, why in the world did you shoot your pistol into the floor?’
‘I am embarrassed by that,’ I admitted. ‘I’m sorry if I frightened you.’
‘But why would you do it?’