30
A DEVILISH SUN STRETCHES OVER THE LARAMIE River, and pokes me in the eye. I curse it. I curse the clouds that spring out like ringlets around it, and while I’m at it, I curse the moon and the traitorous rabbit that lives there. To see that. And him. It stabs me a million times over.
Mostly though, I curse myself. I share the blame for this by causing too much confusion for West. Still, I cannot reconcile that with my hurt.
Tumpshie. Idiot. Why couldn’t I just focus on my mission? It could never work out between us. Like beef and tomatoes, one of Father’s favorite dishes, we have nothing in common except that we wound up in the same wok. Our paths have crossed, and soon we will head off in different directions.
I sit with my head in my hands, my brain circling over the sickening image of Sophie and West like a vulture over a carcass. How could I be so stupid, Father?
My chest rises and falls as I take a deep breath. I must act nonchalant. Another act of survival.
When I return to our camp just after dawn, I head off Andy’s questions by telling her I went for a morning ride. I don’t meet West’s eyes. Instead, I see right through him, like he is a ghost. I do not notice his anxious glances, nor the way his shoulders slump even worse than before. When Andy asks if he needs her sewing kit, I turn my back.
By late morning, I am snoozing over Paloma’s snowy mane as she carries me. A hand pulls my hips back onto the saddle, and I snap to attention. West has brought Franny up beside me.
“You’re slipping,” he says.
My face heats up, and I tighten my grip on Paloma. Nonchalant. I clear my throat.
“I’m sorry about my intrusion last night. I did not”—my voice cracks—“realize . . . ”
“Forget it.” The hint of a blush appears on his cheeks, but he quickly pulls Franny back to the drag.
He tucked my gun back into my holster; I can feel the weight of it against my thigh.
Useless thing. Perhaps it still carries the negative energy of its past owner, and that has made it unlucky. Or perhaps I was lucky it didn’t shoot anyone this time. All the variables in Chinese luck make it difficult to keep track.
Cay casts a mischievous grin toward West. “So did you curry the kinks out of Sophie?”
West doesn’t answer.
“Mathilde said Sophie’s father sent her here to settle her down,” Cay prattles on. “Guess she’s a bit of a bangtail.” He looks over his shoulder at Andy and me. “That’s a wild horse, boys.” His eyes stretch wide for a fleeting moment.
I snort and then I cannot stop laughing. They must think I’m one strange kid.
I can feel my laughter quickly turning to tears so I shove my hat farther down on my head. I urge Paloma to a trot, out of the group and down the trail.
Andy rides Princesa up to join us. “What happened?”
“Didn’t sleep well last night.”
“Did you tell him?”
“I changed my mind,” I say, maintaining a look of equanimity.
She sneaks a look back at West, but I keep my eyes fixed on the road ahead. No more looking back into the drag.
I switch the subject by telling her what that trapper Burl Johnson said about criminals in the Haystacks. “So it’s a good thing I’m going with you.”
She blows a short breath out of her nose. “Yeah, because sometimes, you’s real fierce.”
? ? ?
In the late afternoon, we camp in a grove of birch trees.
At dinnertime, I don’t even notice Andy is frying up something special until she starts knocking her spatula against the pan.
“And now y’all, it’s time for our special celebration in honor of Sammy. Come on!”
I shake my head furiously at Andy, but she smiles and summons me with her hands. I didn’t think she remembered since we talked about it long before we even met the boys.
She does not pick up on my mood. “Sixteen years young and a hundred years smarter than all of us put in the same bag.”
How wrong you are, I think, shuttering my eyes for a moment.
“I thought you said you was seventeen,” says Cay.
“You the only one who believed it, hombre,” says Peety.
We each get a flapjack in the shape of a violin. Cay and Peety clamor for a speech. I put down my pancake and pick myself up. My ears ring like a pair of hot horseshoes under a hammer, but I ignore them and summon up my violin calm.
I hold my cup of water to Andy. “If you had not saved me from the bathtub, I would not have made it to this old age.”
The boys puzzle over this.
“And to the rest of you, you raised me three feet higher at a time when I needed the boost. I’m ever grateful to you.”
“Oh, you mean by giving you a horse,” says Cay, beaming. I dip my head at him.
As I put down my cup, I glance at West’s boots, and again picture Sophie tangled up in him. Everything turns bright and blurry as I fail at being a boy once more. My violin calm vanishes.
“Thank you for this, Andy, but I’m not hungry.” My voice is suddenly too high.
“What’s biting you, Sammy?” Cay asks.
“Nothing.”
“Then why are you—?”
“Go mind the bees in your own bonnet,” Peety cuts in.
I spy a fortress of sagebrush a hundred yards out, perfect for hiding dark thoughts. “Chinese boys like to be alone on their birthday.”
Halfway to the sagebrush, a voice startles me.
“Chinito,” says Peety. The man moves as quiet as a sunset. People born under the sign of the Rat are known for their extreme stealth. He hands me a bow and a quiver with ten arrows. “We got this at the fort for your cumplea?os.”