Chapter Twenty-Five
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Reece
For someone living on limited quantities of damn near everything, Kate Colton makes a strong coffee. Maybe she figures some things are worth having proper or not at all.
After a breakfast of grits and flapjacks, I offer to do a little hunting. “Snares and traps only, of course. I know you don’t want us firing shots.”
Vaughn glares at me like I intend to run off. She ain’t completely wrong. I aim to hike to a vantage point and have a decent look at our surroundings so that if I ever do get a chance to run, I know which direction I should head off in. Seems to me like instead of judging, Vaughn should be doing the same.
Ill-tempered as Kate may be, she’s got a soft spot for her animals, ’cus she agrees it makes sense to trap what we can before we resort to slaughtering the hogs. If’n she didn’t intend to eat the damn things, I don’t know why she had ’em make the trek. All they’ve done is lay down prints. Granted, it did manage to flurry again last night, which mighta helped fill in some of the tracks and wheel ruts. By the time Diaz comes back with Boss and the rest of the gang, there might not be much left to follow.
“You got anything I can use—wire or rope?”
“Check the stable,” she says. “Jesse thought of everything, so I reckon there’s something useful there.”
“When’s he supposed to be back, anyway?” Vaughn asks.
“Always hard to say. Jesse don’t know how to turn down Benny, and Benny’s real good at roping him for another job. But last Jesse wrote, he said end of January.”
“He keen enough to know if he’s being followed?” I ask.
Vaughn shoots a look that suggests I’m being insensitive, but it’s more than fair to assume one of Boss’s boys’ll be watching the Prescott house.
“Jesse’s smart,” Kate says.
’Cept for when he gave me that blasted coin.
As though she can hear my thoughts, Kate adds, “Most of the time.”
I’ve barely made it off the porch when Vaughn comes nipping at my heels.
“Hold up! I’d like to talk to you about yesterday.”
“I told you I’m still considering it.”
“Not the offer,” she says. “When I challenged your principles the last few years, you said ask me. Well, I’m asking now.”
I pause beside the first of the stable’s stalls. The sorrel flicks her tail.
“I done bad things, Vaughn. I ain’t participated in the worst of it, but I don’t exactly think standing by doing nothing excuses a man of his crimes. So the truth of it is, I ain’t had a ton of principles, but this ain’t what I ever wanted, neither. I did try to run once, just weeks after Boss branded my arm and dragged me into the gang. I weren’t about to try again.”
“What happened?”
“Why do you care?”
“If I end up writing that piece on you for the paper, I can’t very well do it without knowing the facts.”
She’s wearing a beige dress she musta borrowed from Kate, ’cus it’s clean and a bit too big in length. A blanket’s draped over her shoulders to shield from the morning’s bite, and with her head cocked to the side and her hair spilling everywhere, she plays sincere mighty well. But I get the feeling she’s also playing me. Like she’s cutting me open just to watch me bleed, not so she can stitch me back up. Hell, I could see her writing the story for her career’s benefit and still turning me in to the Law.
’Gainst my better judgment, I fold. For once I got someone standing ’round long enough to hear my side of things, and maybe just talking will do me wonders. It sure seems to help sinners at confession.
“Boss asked ’bout my family a lot in the first days I rode with him,” I begin. “He wanted to know my history. No detail were too small. I told him everything ’cus I were scared of what might happen if I didn’t, and when I tried to run that first and only time, I realized I shoulda lied. At least a little.”
“What do you mean?”
“We were down near Yuma.” She bristles at the mention of her home. “Most of the guys were seeing ladies, and Boss had bought me one. I snuck out the gal’s window, certain that were the best time to flee ’cus the boys’d all be preoccupied. I didn’t count on one of the whores snitching to Boss. I didn’t make it more than three miles north before he caught up with me. He beat me real good. I still got this lump on my nose where it ain’t healed right.” I go to point it out, only to remember that my nose is still swollen from where Kate cracked me with her rifle.
“So you took a beating,” Vaughn says, shrugging, as if she’s taken one herself and knows how it feels to have Luther Rose towering over you, kicking relentlessly, driving his fists into every bit of soft flesh he can find. “You didn’t try again?”
“I planned to, but Diaz disappeared that day and rejoined us a week or two later. When I asked him where he’d been, he told me Boss sent him to visit my mother. She’s a painted dove in La Paz.”
Vaughn’s gone pale at this point. “He killed her?”
“Nah. You can’t kill someone yer using to keep another person in line. You should know that, what with the way yer uncle’s playing you and yer ma ’gainst each other.”
I walk to the far end of stable, where the only empty stall is filled with farming gear. Kneeling, I dig ’round in a crate, looking for something I can use to set a snare or trap. Vaughn’s dress swooshes behind me. She’s followed.
“What happened?” Her tone’s demanding, but a little concerned, too.
“Diaz saw my ma, then cut off her little finger.”
“Maybe he lied.”
“He gave it to me, wrapped in a handkerchief. Said if I tried to run again, Boss planned to send someone else and they’d take two fingers. The next time, it would be three. And so on.”
I glance at Vaughn. Her hand’s pressed to her mouth.
“I guess there was no way of knowing if that finger were truly hers, but it weren’t a gamble I were willing to make. So I stayed put till Wickenburg. It wasn’t worth running till I knew—without a doubt—that I’d be able to get away. Now, so long as I keep hidden, my ma should be safe. I know Boss. He ain’t gonna harm her if’n I’m gone. It’s if he catches me that things’ll get ugly.”
“Jesus Christ,” she mutters. “I’m sorry.”
“Look, I ain’t sharing this for yer pity. I told you ’cus you asked, and ’cus you need to stay away from me. Find someone else to take care of yer uncle. Trust me, I ain’t worth it. Every life mine touches ends up cursed. I’m gonna lie low a few weeks and then get outta the Territory, go somewhere they won’t find me.”
“So that’s it. You’re turning down my offer? You’re going to leave me to deal with my uncle myself?”
“Yer uncle, yer problem. I got enough of my own.”