The Widow

Chapter 4

Dying feels like heaven.
Coming back to life...

It's pure hell.

Shortly after high noon, Horse plods wearily into the town. His hocks are wrapped in strips of my spare shirt. Blood soaked through, staining them a ruddy brown.

My lips are cracked and dry. I gave Horse the last of my water after he ran hard last night over rough ground. It took me almost an hour to clean the cactus spikes and burs out of his wounds and bandage his legs.

I take Horse to the stable and a young boy takes Horse's reins and the coins that I hand over. He gapes at my scars but I'm too tired to care.

"Extra water and bandage his legs," I say. The boy nods, and by the concerned angle of his brow as he looks at Horse's legs, I can tell he will do a good job.

I duck into a different saloon, my hat low and my chin tucked. To my surprise, the bar is full, as are the poker tables. Saloon girls perch on the laps of their potential clients and a man in a bowler hat plays a gay tune on the piano.

It is easy to sidle up to the bar and buy a drink without attracting more than a few glances. The bartender is so busy his gaze never quite settles on my face as he trades me a drink for my money. I gulp the beer and order another. The second one I take with me to a table that is miraculously empty and tucked away in the corner. I can see the boardwalk outside and observe everything in the saloon. This is good since I don't have the energy to deal with much else. It was a long walk across the desert.

I had all morning to think about why I missed my shot. I am an excellent marksman, so at first I was baffled. My aim had not been off. I always hit what I aim for. When I thought back to the moment before I squeezed the trigger, I realized that I tipped the barrel down - not much - a hair's breadth. Just enough that I knew the man with grey eyes would not die. I realized this as I walked alongside Horse. And now that the beer has quenched my thirst and cleared my mind, I decide that I must now come up with a plan. I hadn't anticipated stumbling across the man last night, so I'm almost sure that I just wasn't ready to kill him. It's not that I was afraid, because I wasn't.

As soon as I've rested a few more minutes, I'll find a newspaper and crossmatch train schedules with the direction he was headed.

"I know you."

I rip my gaze away from the window and find a wiry man setting his beer down across from me as he settles into a chair. He is a fidgety man with restless eyes. His smile reaches his eyes, but it is far from genuine. He's several years older than me with creases at the corners of his mouth and skin like old leather.

"You're that girl who broke Slim Johnny's wrist yesterday."

I am too startled to respond at first. The man doesn't care. He keeps prattling on.

"It's okay. I don't think many people 'round here like Slim Johnny. 'Cept maybe his momma, and not many people like her neither. Still, I've got to say, that was mighty impressive - little lady like you standing up to a big man like him. His brother got scalped." To illustrate this for me, the man grabs his mop of dirty blond hair with one hand and draws the thumb of his other hand across his hairline. "That's why he don't like Injuns. You spent time with them, I gather? On account of that feather in your hair. If I didn't know better, I'd guess maybe Comanche or Apache. They like taking our people. 'Dopt them. Teach 'em their ways."

The man pauses to swig his beer and wipe his mouth with his sleeve.

"You traveling by yourself out here? You seem like you can take care of yourself pretty well. I mean, Slim Johnny ain't no pole bean. Probably more like an eggplant or a squash." He holds his arms out to show just how wide Slim Johnny's girth is. "And you had him smashed into the bar like he was nothin'! You know what? I says to myself, Kip, that's a girl who can take care of herself, you know? A real woman. A woman who's more like a man than most of the men out here! Hee hew!" The man pounds the table and laughs.

I finally have the wherewithal to speak. "Look, mister, I don't know what you want or what you're selling, but I'm not interested. And I'm not here to make friends."

I hate the thought of leaving my unfinished beer, but I hate this man talking to me even more.

"Hey now, you can sit back down," he says throwing his arms up to show he means no harm. "I ain't trying to scare you off. Just having a conversation is all. Sit back down. Your next one's on me. I just wanted to say thanks for putting Johnny in his place. Nobody 'round here's ever had the balls to do it."

I am just about to say no thanks when the saloon doors swing open and he walks through.

My heart stops and my blood turns to ice.

He walks to the bar followed by his two remaining men. The muscle in his jaw keeps jumping, and he scans the room.

I sit back down and take a long drink of beer. The man makes his way through the crowd over to the bar. Kip cranes his neck to see what caught my attention and I want to smash his face into the table for being so obvious. I'm terrified that he will draw the man's attention, but at that moment, his drinks arrive and he is distracted.

"You know Hank Camden?" Kip asks, amazement filling his eyes. "I wondered when he'd show up here. On account of the poker game and all. I ain't never seen him go for a woman but dammit if that man don't love his card games. He came for the game the last two years. They all do - all the big names. You know, I ain't surprised you'd know someone like him."

I've kept the man in my peripheral vision but for once I'm interested in what Kip has to say. The way he says "the game" gives me the impression that this isn't just any poker game. I had thought the man with grey eyes was this far south for the trains, but perhaps I was mistaken.

"Tell me more about this poker game."

Kip's grin widens. There's a glint in his eye, and I can't help but feel like a fly that's just been caught in a spider's web.