It don’t matter how well one knows a trail. Starlight, a weak moon, and a lone lantern ain’t much to go by. We sleep huddled under blankets.
The next time I wake, it’s to Kate saying, “You can take those blindfolds off now.” I yank mine free and crane my neck ’round, trying to get a hold on my surroundings. We ain’t on the plains no more, and though the trees and brush seem to be cleared wide enough for the wagon, there ain’t any tracks in the thin layer of snow we’re crossing. This ain’t a well-traveled trail. Pines line it, and based on the low position of the early-morning light filtering between limbs and trunks, I figure we’re moving northwest. I turn to the south, hoping to spot Thumb Butte or some familiar landmark, and see only more forest. We coulda traveled five miles since leaving Kate’s place or three times that. I dozed too often, and Kate’s stopping the wagon in the middle of the night for a rest only confused me more.
Vaughn said she grew up in these parts, but she don’t appear any more aware of our surroundings. Soon as her blindfold comes off, she’s gawking, head swiveling like an owl.
We pass through a corridor of pines that lean in slightly, crowding the trail. Then, like a train shooting through a tunnel, the wagon emerges into a clearing. Kate pulls the reins and climbs from the driver’s box. I just stare.
Here, in the middle of the mountains, somewhere outside Prescott, is a haven.
The clearing is covered in a dusting of snow, with dry, brittle-brown grass poking through. At the rear of the clearing is a steep incline, and just before that is a house. It’s built in almost the exact likeness of the one we just left, from the paned windows and plain shutters with crosses cut in ’em to the weathered, unadorned wood siding. There ain’t a porch here, but the home overlooks a decent tank of water. Prolly there’s a dam somewhere on the small stream that feeds it, allowing the tank to hold water long after the stream quits running. The pigs go lumbering for it, slipping in the slush and flopping into the mud like it’s the finest goose-down bed in the Territory.
Set on the far edge of the clearing is a stable that don’t look big enough to house all the livestock we got. Behind it—just like behind the house—the land goes steep. It’s like the whole clearing is hugged from the rear, protected, its only point of entry being the trail we just took.
“Well, don’t go sitting there all dumbstruck and wide-eyed,” Kate snaps. “Help with the unloading.”
We start with the goods that need to get moved into the house: the half-finished cradle and the stuff it’s holding, the few blankets Kate brought with her. I’m wondering if she plans on wearing the clothes on her back for the rest of her life, when I step into the house and realize how grossly I’ve underestimated her.
This ain’t just some building in a clearing. This is a hideout—and a fully furnished one at that.
The place is covered in a thin layer of dust, but the kitchen cabinets are stocked with cans of condensed milk and beans, bags of coffee, and strips of dried meat. There’s a root cellar, filled with pickled vegetables and jams and a small mountain of potatoes. I peek into the bedrooms—two again, just like her place ’long the creek—and find made beds, extra blankets, dressers stuffed with clothes. This is a second home, ready to be lived in, its contents looking new and untouched.
It’s like Kate has been waiting for this moment her whole life, like she knew her deal with the gunslinger might return to haunt her, that someone might come riding onto her claim demanding vengeance. She built this place ages ago and has been prepared to run ever since.
“How in the hell did you finance this?” I ask, setting the half-finished cradle on the kitchen table. “Hauling all the wood in, building here? There ain’t exactly conveniences nearby.”
“There ain’t conveniences nearby for a reason,” she says, scowling, “and how I financed it ain’t yer business. Now I gotta beat some rugs and do an ungodly amount of dusting. See to the animals, will ya?”
Her confidence that I won’t go running is damn infuriating, but I reckon it’s founded. Just ’cus I figure Prescott sits somewhere south of here don’t mean I’ll find it with ease. Hell, I’m just as likely to get lost among the pines than to saunter into the city. Plus, wearing that blindfold means I don’t got a clue if the trail splits or which way to travel if it does, and last thing I wanna do, even if I miraculously find my way outta the mountains, is run into Diaz or Boss.
Best to wait it out a few days. I got Ma to think on, after all, and I know Boss won’t kill her so long as I’m free. That threat only worked to keep me reined in, loyal to the gang. But if he gets me back . . .
“I’ll help with the dusting,” Vaughn says.
“You’ll help with the animals,” Kate counters.
“I will not help him”—she glances my way—“with anything.”
“You will, ’cus you got things to discuss, plus someone’s gotta keep an eye on him.”
Vaughn actually laughs. “You can’t keep an eye on a Rose Rider, least of all the Rose Kid. Accompanying him to the stable is the most foolish thing I could possibly do. He could shoot—”
“I’m not gonna—”
“No shooting!” Kate snaps, cutting us both off. “Not now, not so long as we’re here. It’s too easy for gunfire to carry off them mountains.”
“So civilization’s near after all,” I say, hopeful.
“Just ’cus a place ain’t easy to find, don’t mean it’s invisible. Nor that yer boss ain’t gonna find us if we go ’bout firing bullets like men cleaning house at poker. We trap and snare for food. Nothing gets shot. If’n I hear a bullet go off, it better mean we’s been found out and yer firing at the enemy.”
“So we’re just expected to get along?” Vaughn asks, motioning at herself and me. “You want me to pretend like he isn’t the killer we know he is? I’m not doing anything with him!”
“You will, ’cus you ain’t got another option. It’s this or I shoot you both right now.”
“I thought there weren’t to be shooting,” I say.
No one smiles. Shame. It were a decent joke.
“Let me clarify,” Kate says, slow, glowering at both of us. “There’ll be no shooting unless we’re found out or ’cus I’m shooting yous.”
Vaughn looks terrified, but I see it for the bluff it is. Kate wouldn’t’ve saved my hide yesterday only to blow me away today.
“I’m not comfortable with this,” Vaughn says.
“I ain’t gonna touch you,” I tell her. “Hell, I won’t even look at you, if that makes it better.”
“It doesn’t.”
“Aw, the hell with this,” I say. “I don’t need it. I’ll deal with the animals alone.”
I turn ’round and shove out the door.
I see what Kate’s doing. She hopes I’ll take Vaughn’s offer. She wants to send us both out on horseback to see to Vaughn’s uncle in town, then not be able to find our way back. Or maybe we get lost in the mountains and starve to death. Either way, she’s free from the Rose Riders and safe at her hideaway, only our fate won’t rot her conscience too much ’cus she did her best to give us a fair shake at things.