Vengeance Road (11 page)

My eyes flicker open, revealing a ceiling that ain't familiar. I press a hand down beside my hip. Unfamiliar sheets, too. A mattress. Mutt's curled up at my feet.

I sit up so fast, the room goes blurry.

“Easy there,” Will says from his seat 'cross the way.

My hands go immediately to my shirt, but it's buttoned.

“We're in Phoenix,” he says before I can ask. “Stopped a few miles outside yesterday, but you weren't doing too good. Jesse slung you over his horse and we rode to see Evelyn. She called the doc and he fixed you right up this morning with some stitching and a bit of alcohol. It were a bad graze, taking off a chunk of skin and muscle but never hitting bone.” He points at my arm. “Doc said it were shock and the strike to yer head that did the worst damage. Evelyn swears you had a concussion.”

“She a doctor too?” I says.

“A whore, but my favorite, so yer lucky I was kind enough to have her see to yer needs first and not mine.” He cracks a smile, and I'm grateful for his humor, 'cus the longer I lie here with him knowing right well I ain't the boy I's been pretending, the crazier it's making me go.

“Where's Jesse?” I says.

“Just got back.” Will sends dip into the spittoon at his feet. “He were tracking yer horse. She bolted during the shootout 'long the river, but he found her.”

Silver, nearly lost. Relief comes flooding.

“I gotta thank him,” I says, sitting taller. “I gotta see him right now.”

I grab the blankets and Will shakes his head. “Ah-ah-ah, wait till I leave at least. Jesus.”

I stretch my feet and understand his reaction. My legs are skin on skin. I spot my pants and boots sitting on a chest at the foot of the bed.

“You were burning up,” he says.

My mouth falls open.

“Oh, hell, it were Evelyn who took 'em off. Don't go getting ideas.”

God almighty I wanna disappear. I wanna undo the last few days.

“I think you should go,” I says, feeling exposed.

He sighs heavy but don't argue. Soon as he's gone, I slide outta bed. I'm sore and tired and my balance don't feel quite right. When I roll my bad shoulder, it's tight and throbby. Least it ain't my shooting arm. What hurts worst, though, is my head. I reach back and find a heck of a lump. Damn, I hit that rock hard.

That stupid bastard on his horse.

I'll kill him. Him and all the others.

I snatch up my pants and stuff my legs in, relieved that the dull headache pulsing in my temples don't affect my balance. As I pull on my boots, there's a knocking.

“Yeah?” I says.

Jesse toes the door open.

“Yer up,” he says, but I notice he's looking more at the bed than me.

“Thanks for not leaving me behind,” I says.

“Couldn't. I made a promise to my pa.” Then his expression goes stormy. “Damn it, Nate, you can't run forward in a gunfight like that. What the devil were you thinking? Coulda got yerself killed. Coulda gotten us
all
killed!”

“Kate,” I says.

“What?”

“It's Kate.”

“Right.” He looks at me, and then his gaze instantly trails to the dresser. “Jesus Christ,” he says.

I sit there on the bed. He stands staring at the dresser.

“You know, I had the vaguest memories of you and yer pa staying in our barn years back. I coulda sworn Henry's kid were a girl, but then you showed up and I figured I remembered it wrong. Guess I was off my rocker thinking you'd be honest with us when we're risking our skins riding 'longside you as you chase Rose Riders!”

“Jesse, I'm sorry.”

“Sure you are.”

“No, really,” I says. “It's just . . . no one was gonna take me serious as a girl. I'd've had eyes on me everywhere, or been a target.”

“You made one hell of a target down at that river, Na— Goddamn it—
Kate.
”

“Well, you'd've sent me back to the ranch!” I says, nearly shouting. “You'd've ordered me to stay with Sarah if you knew. And I gotta do this, Jesse! I ain't never gonna breathe easy till every one of those bastards is as dead as the one I shot in Prescott.”

“You what?”

If I'm coming clean, I might as well do it honest and true. He did save my life and all, track my horse, get me to Phoenix. So I break down and tell him 'bout the outhouse revenge and the letter Abe had been holding, 'bout the journal and the gold.

He don't speak for a long while.

“Jesse?” I says.

“Damn it, Kate. What the hell did you pull us into?”

“Nothing. It's my hunt, not yers.”

“'Cept for that one Rider who got away. I shot the saddled gun, but Will and I were too busy fussing over you to track the man on foot. Now he knows what all three of us look like, and that we're traveling together. You pulled us into a war over lost gold and spilled blood and you didn't even give us a choice!”

“Well, I said I never wanted company! I told you I were traveling alone, but you and Will forced yer way in. You never listened to a thing I said.”

“What would it've mattered?” he roars. “You lied 'bout damn near everything!”

“Go on and get, then,” I says. “Leave! It weren't like I wanted you round to begin with.”

“Fine!” he says, yanking the door. “My pleasure!”

He slams it so hard, I'm shocked it don't crack.

I grab my effects
from the chest, startling Mutt in the process. He gives me a low, throaty growl.

“Oh, don't you go taking that tone with me too,” I says. I try to give him a pat and he nearly takes my fingers off with a well-placed nip. “I ain't the bad guy!”

But he just curls away, burying his nose in his fur. It's like he's got an allegiance to Jesse even when he ain't present.

I fasten on my pistol belt. Now that the chest wrap ain't crushing air from my lungs, bending and turning is a breeze. I snatch up my Stetson, plop it on my head, and storm outta the room.

Floorboards creak as I feel my way down the poorly lit hall. I can hear a couple tumbling in one of the rooms I pass, and below I can make out dulled chatter. While the words don't reach me, the scent of whiskey and wafting cigar smoke do. Rounding a corner, I nearly collide with one of the girls coming up the stairs. We do an awkward dance where I try to step outta her way, but she steps the same direction and we waltz like that till she manages to join me on the landing.

“Done with the room?” she says, eyeing my shoulder. She ain't got a fella with her, so I reckon she's come to check on me.

“Evelyn?” I says, testing the theory.

She nods, making her dark curls bounce. She's pretty. Bet she'd be even prettier outta this dingy dump.

“Thanks for all your help,” I says. “And sorry 'bout using yer room, making it so you couldn't . . .”

She bats a hand. “Oh, it were nothing. Evening rush is just getting started. But if yer done and outta there, it'd be good to know.”

“Oh, yeah,” I says. “I'm done.”

Done and racing after Rose.

“Swell,” she says. “I got a Colton been pestering me since you rode in this morning.”

Just then boots come clomping up the stairs, followed by Will's voice. “Ev?”

“Yeah, yeah,” she says over her shoulder. “Come on up.”

He climbs into view, and when he spots me standing there he winks. I think I make a face more revolting than necessary, 'cus he just says, “And I offered to buy you one once.” Shaking his head, he turns to Evelyn. “Did I ever tell you yer the prettiest gal in Phoenix?”

“Those words'd be more convincing if there weren't dollars behind 'em.” But she's smiling as she says it, and there's something bright in her eyes. I don't know much 'bout painted ladies, but I never seen one look so genuinely pleased to take a client's hand.

I squeeze by Will and flee down the rickety stairs.

The parlor ain't big, and it's busting at the seams on account of the few folk spread throughout. Men lounging on fading couches, drinking whiskey and bourbon as girls in bright, frilly dresses dance about. An accordion's being played, the ivories tickled. Deep red curtains hang in the windows, looking rich and trying to distract from a mud-stained carpet.

Jesse's leaning 'gainst the sad excuse for a bar, a rolled cigarette pinched between his lips as he spins a whiskey glass with his free hand. He spots me coming down the stairs and straightens. I feel his eyes lingering on my flannel and can practically hear him chiding,
Ain't no reason to keep pretending yer a boy.

He throws back his drink, then turns away from me, sliding the empty glass forward for a refill. I shove out the saloon without a backwards glance.

It's later than I expected. The sun's set, but a bit of light still stains the horizon. The lantern hanging from the parlor eaves is already lit and glowing scarlet.

Silver's waiting not far to my right with her reins wrapped round the hitching post. She stamps a hoof, tosses her head. Suddenly, not even the sight of her makes me feel better, 'cus alls I can see is Jesse tracking her for me. Finding her. Bringing her back.

Why's he gotta be so honorable? If he were more like Will, he'd be easier to hate. But somehow I like Will just fine and can't stand Jesse.

Goddamn mess of a hunt. And now I can't even cut loose till morning.

I look at the darkening sky and curse under my breath. I hope Jesse drinks so much whiskey, he passes out. If I gotta see him squinting again when I get back, judging and glowering, I'm gonna go mad.

I stomp down the street, jiggling my fingers by my thighs like I can shake the prickling emotions outta my body. I pass a string of saloons and a bank, then finally find a general store looking like it could rival Goldwaters. Hancock's, according to the paint on the facade. The owner's closing soon, and he's sure to tell me it the moment I step through the doorway.

I shop quick, gathering up more cured meat, matches, ammo, and anything else I think I might need heading into the mountains come dawn. Then I dally on the general store's porch, groceries between my feet and back pressed 'gainst the wall. The last bit of light leaks from the sky. A few less-than-respectable-looking characters start wandering the streets, heading for the various saloons. I ain't ready to return to the parlor. If'n I stand here long enough, Jesse might be asleep when I get back. Maybe I can creep in extra late and sneak out come first light without so much as facing him.

It dawns on me that I don't know where we're staying for the night. Evelyn'll need her room. There were only so many couches on the main floor, and I reckon they'll be full of patrons. I should prolly see if there's a hotel round.

As I stoop to grab my groceries, two long coats drift by.

“. . . shouldn't be stopping here,” one man's saying.

“You know the boss man. He's got a weakness for cards,” the second replies. I go rigid on the porch. “'Sides, he's only playing a few hands, and didn't Hank say the sheriff's gone on business till tomorrow?”

I strain my hearing, but they's already moved outta earshot, so I follow 'em, being sure to keep back a good distance. They walk fearless, like predators on the prowl. Finally, they head into the Tiger Saloon. It's a big place, two stories high. I hurry nearer, and sure enough, there's their horses. Seven of 'em. Waiting calm as ever at the hitching post, a rose burned into each saddle.

On the other side of the swinging doors I can hear music and rowdy men. Shouts and bets and a few girls carrying a tune. How's it folks in a town as small as Walnut Grove knew 'bout Waylan Rose, and here people don't seem to notice the demons they got stomping down their own streets?

Could be they
do
know and are too scared to do nothing 'bout it without the sheriff round. It ain't one man they're up 'gainst, but a whole gang.

Or, could be Rose and his boys ain't been recognized. When I's a kid, we had an outlaw squatting in Prescott a few weeks and not a soul noticed. There were wanted posters hung on every other town building too. Problem was, the illustration weren't very good—he were drawn too young and thin—and with the outlaw going by a different name and carrying himself all confident, no one batted an eye.

I step onto the porch and peer through the saloon window. A body's standing right 'gainst it, blocking any view I mightta had. For a moment I consider dropping my groceries and plowing inside anyway, pistol blazing. But I'm worried 'bout hitting innocent folks in the process, and besides, you can't gun down seven men unprovoked and walk away whistling. Assuming I can even make that many perfect shots, I'll still need Silver nearby so I can run when it's over.

I turn my pace brisk and head for my horse. Soon as she comes into view, I swear. My saddle's missing, swiped right off her back, and I'd bet all the gold left in Pa's pouch who took it.