The Railwalkers

By Ruth Hanson

Published by JMS Books LLC

Visit jms-books.com for more information.

Copyright 2021 Ruth Hanson

ISBN 9781646566983

Cover Design: Less Than Three Press commission

Image(s) used under a Standard Royalty-Free License.

All rights reserved.

WARNING: This book is not transferable. It is for your own personal use. If it is sold, shared, or given away, it is an infringement of the copyright of this work and violators will be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law.

No portion of this book may be transmitted or reproduced in any form, or by any means, without permission in writing from the publisher, with the exception of brief excerpts used for the purposes of review.

This book is for ADULT AUDIENCES ONLY. It may contain sexually explicit scenes and graphic language which might be considered offensive by some readers. Please store your files where they cannot be accessed by minors.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are solely the product of the author’s imagination and/or are used fictitiously, though reference may be made to actual historical events or existing locations. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Published in the United States of America.

* * * *

A special thanks to Tiana, Emily, and Tyler for your help, love and support.

* * * *

To my dear Readers,

I want to thank you for supporting my work. This novel has been a labor of love for the better part of five years now, so to see it finally out in the world is a joy and a privilege. And while you likely don’t know me, and I likely don’t know you, you have my gratitude for giving me your time and your attention.

When I started this book, it began with an idea at three in the morning. Half asleep, I bolted up, and haphazardly wrote down the opening scene of what you’re about to read. I can only describe the writing process from there out as an act of instinct. I would sit, for hours on end, with a mug of tea and a single light at my desk, and write furiously. It was as if this story needed to exist of its own volition. Truth be told, it did.

There’s nothing more American than a Western. Coming from the Land of Movie Making, I’ve seen my share. Stagecoach, Meek’s Cutoff, The Searchers, Unforgiven, Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, True Grit. All brilliant films with captivating characters. And all of them, with few exceptions, missing huge pieces of the puzzle. America in the 19th Century was more than some straight white guys on horses. Women cultivated towns, immigrants created infrastructure, and newly freed people were trying to achieve prosperity. All stories in need of being told, and yet, almost always delegated to the sideline.

So, I wanted to write a story that filled in those missing pieces. Unfortunately, this meant utilizing the vernacular of the time. In order to be true to this work, I had to use racial epithets and attitudes that I would never embrace in my day to day. I know that my voice on these issues is not the most important, but it is necessary. If we are going to strive for a better tomorrow, it is imperative to put aside comfort, and confront the ugliness of yesterday. It’s an ugliness that, sadly, our brothers and sisters of color know too well. That our queer siblings know too well.

I went back and forth for a while about writing this introduction. Part of me wanted my work to speak for itself. After all, art is meant to be interpreted. And once I have said my piece here, you are free to read into any detail however you see fit. But ultimately, it is more important that I do right by my loved ones in stating that this work is now, and has always been, unequivocally anti-racist. That the language used moving forward is meant to present America as it always has been: as a damaged country with the potential to be better than it was.

And with that, please, enjoy.

The Railwalkers

By Ruth Hanson

Part 1

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Part 2

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Part 1

Chapter 1

Chick-uh chick-uh, chick-uh chick-uh.

From beneath the train, iron wheels clacked against their rails, speeding along the track as one, great beast. Giant plumes of steam shot from its metal smokestack as it roared along the plains. The horizon stretched out for miles and miles of flat land. It was devilishly hot inside, even with the train windows cracked to allow in the desert air. Ladies fanned themselves, and gentlemen pat their sweat casually whilst reading the newspaper. Currently, the train was on its way from Georgia, through Mississippi, and into the new land of the Arkansas territory. Directly in the middle of the compartment, riding beside her mother, little ten-year-old Violet Donovan stared out the window, watching the horizon pass by.

Violet was the curious sort, with big brown eyes evenly set in a peachy, soft face. Her curls were loose and matched her eyes, tucked currently into a pale blue bonnet. She wore a blue dress, done up with lace and bows along her hems. It was the nicest dress she owned; despite the heat, her mother insisted she wear it. Mrs. Donovan, sitting beside her child, rode otherwise alone. The ring on her right finger suggested a widow, and the price of her dress implied her wealth. Violet laid her arms along the edge of the window, staring mindlessly towards the horizon. Even the glass was hot, but Violet didn’t mind. “What’s Arkansas like, Mama?” she asked. “Does it look like this?”

“I suppose so,” said Mrs. Donovan. She took a photograph from her clutch purse, examining it. On the back was an inscription in pencil: Donovan Estate, AK, 1874. “All I know is what the house looks like.”

“It’s so much smaller than back home,” said Violet, looking at it. “Do I get horses?”

“Of course, sugar. Maybe not as many.”

Violet went back to her window. “Don’t see why we gotta move anyhow,” she said. “I liked home just fine.”

“Things change, Violet.” Her mother returned the photo. “Doesn’t mean it’ll be a bad change.”

“Hm.” Violet tapped her fingers on the glass, leaving little smudges behind. As her mind wandered, something peculiar caught her eye. An unusually thick cloud of dust kicked up like a storm, just a few yards away from the train. Looking closer, Violet saw horses obscured by the cloud. A thrill of excitement shot through her, and she turned to tug on her mother’s arm.

“Mama!” she said excitedly. “Horses! I saw horses outside! Men ridin’ em, too!”

“What? Don’t be silly, child.” But Mrs. Donovan looked out anyway. To Violet’s surprise, the horses and their riders were gone from sight. Mrs. Donovan clicked her tongue. “I swear, your mind gets away from you sometimes.”

“But I really saw ‘em!” she swore. “Honest!”

“Yes, Violet.” Mrs. Donovan closed her eyes, resting her head against her seat.

Disappointed, Violet went back to the window, eager to find the mystery horses again. She saw no sign of them. With a sad huff, she laid her forehead against the hot glass, wondering if she had in fact imagined it.

That’s when she heard rustling above them. Violet looked around and saw that a few other passengers noticed the noise as well. Violet pushed herself to her knees, craning her neck over their many heads to see if something was happening.

Bang! Shouts of surprise echoed through the compartment like an ocean wave. People fell back, women clutched their pearls, and young Violet braced herself against the headrest of her seat, staring at the back of their train car.

The door, just seconds ago, had been kicked wide open. In came two bandits, bandannas covering their lower faces. The first was a colored man, a derby low on his forehead. Wireframe glasses pinched his nose. In each hand he held a loaded six shooter, both of which were pointed at the terrified passengers. The second, carrying a dangerous Winchester rifle, was a Chinaman, his hair long and braided down his back. He wore a cowboy’s hat, the brim nearly hiding his dark eyes.

“Alright y’all, stay still and keep your hands where I can see them!” The first man barked orders, leaving the passengers cowering in their seats. When the panic settled, the two slowly made their way through the compartment, eyes scanning the crowd patiently. Violet’s mother grabbed her tight, and pull her in to safety. Still, both frightened and fascinated, she struggled to watch.

“Now,” the bandit continued, “comply with our request, and we shall rid you of our presence right quick. We’re lookin’ for a Mr. Randolph Johnson!” They continued to walk through the train car, until they were just parallel to Violet’s seat. She watched through her mother’s arms as the man continued to search. Violet turned to the second. His face had not changed expression, his eyes sharper than knives. The Chinaman turned suddenly to where Violet was watching him. He didn’t seem too old. Violet felt his eyes pierce into hers, yet as frightened as she was, she couldn’t look away. Their gazes only broke when Mrs. Donovan shielded Violet with her arm.

“Come now,” the first bandit continued. “There’s no need to try and hide, Mr. Johnson. We know you’re here. We know your face. And we think you know why we’re here for you.” That’s when he stopped, spotting a rotund gentleman near the front row. “There we are.”

Randolph Johnson, a squat, fat fellow with an expensive suit, burst from his seat and tried to escape through the front door. But as he did, it swung open to reveal an Indian twice the size of a normal man. His face was not covered, and his features were square and serious. His black hair was tied in a knot beneath his own cap, which barely fit his huge head.

Johnson, sweating, turned back and forth. Guns behind him, a beast before him. He truly had nowhere to run. Near the middle, a man began to stand, perhaps to alert the conductor or try and help, himself. But with a cock of his rifle, the Chinaman kept him at bay.

“Keep still.” His voice, Violet immediately noticed, was unlike a man’s in every way. Why, this person was a woman. The well-meaning passenger quickly sat back down, his wife clutching his arm. The woman pulled her rifle away and nodded to the Indian standing at the doorway.

Without a word, the native grabbed Johnson by his collar and yanked him through the door and up to the roof of the train. The black man followed, but the woman lingered. She turned, her rifle at the ready, though no one dared go after them. Once more, her eyes fell to Violet. Violet hadn’t cowered, or looked away as so many other children had. Instead, she sat in her mother’s lap, staring intently at the outlaw, as if afraid to blink and miss something.

Under her bandanna, the woman smiled, and shut the door behind her. The minute she was gone, a great commotion rose up with the passengers. Some brave men tried to get through the door, but found it barred from the other side. Violet quickly rushed back to her window with just enough time to catch the three outlaws riding away, Randolph Johnson dragging behind them in the dirt.

* * * *

Violet woke slowly. Outside her window, the sky was still somberly gray, but she could hear the birds and bugs begin to stir. The springs in her mattress creaked as she sat up, a sweat already coating her skin from the humid night before. Downstairs, she heard Charlie up and working on breakfast.

She went to her washbowl and wet her hair and face. Patting it dry, she caught sight of her reflection. It’d been ten years since her move to the Donovan Estate in Arkansas. And ten years since seeing the notorious Railwalker Gang in person. Since then, Violet had grown into a respectable young lady. Her hair had transformed into a dark honey color, her childhood freckles fading. While her more innocent features gave way to womanly shapes, her eyes remained the same. They were still wide and brimming with curiosity.

By the time Violet had changed for the day, the sun was starting to peek over the little town of Redrock. Violet’s home was near the end of the town, looking over the small stretch of buildings along a single, dirt road. There was the general store, owned by Mr. Munts, the barber, a school house, church, saloon, barnyard, and a few homes and businesses sprinkled here and there.

“Violet!” came a call. “Up yet? Breakfast’s almost ready!”

“Coming, Charlie!” Violet gave her hair one last brush before heading downstairs. Charlie had been hired by Mrs. Donovan just a few days after their arrival. Born in the south and later freed as a young woman, Charlie moved out west to make a name for herself. She had pitch black skin and even darker eyes and hair. Only her smile and the white of her eyes contrasted her face. Violet had grown a good liking to Charlie, and Mrs. Donovan made it a point to pay her well.

“Good morning, Miss Violet,” she said pleasantly. “We’ve got hotcakes today.”

“Oh!” Violet looked over Charlie’s shoulder with glee. “What’s the occasion?”

“No occasion, Miss,” said Charlie with a smile. “Just figured I’d make ‘em.”

“You’re too good to me, Charlie.” She kissed Charlie’s cheek. “You need any washing water?”

“No, Ma’am. I gots it all already, thank you.”

“Well, I’m gonna go see Maple before breakfast,” said Violet.

“You be sure and wash up before you eat!” Charlie called after her. Violet nodded and walked through the back door of the kitchen. The Donovan Estate covered about one hundred and fifty acres, most of it overgrown with trees. There was, however, enough open land to support a small group of horses, raised by Violet herself.

Not minding the mud on the edge of her dress, Violet walked to the stable, where she heard pleasant burrs of her horses. She opened the door and stepped inside. “Good mornin’ ladies!” The horses replied in kind, and Violet went over to one particular stable door. Maple, the horse behind it, was butterscotch and cream colored, whose eyes reflected Violet’s own warm browns. Violet grabbed a handful of feed and brought it up to her. The horse happily gobbled it from her palm, leaving a puddle of spit in its place.

Violet giggled. “Today feels like a good day for a ride. How’s that sound?” Maple nodded her head eagerly, as though she understood the question. After breakfast, Violet helped Charlie with the washing and the silver. She never minded, even though her mother disproved. Violet liked conversations with Charlie; she always had a story to tell, and Violet was an eager audience. Stories of adventure, of heroes and monsters. Even now as an adult, she would eagerly listen whenever she could. Today, Charlie retold the story of Bobby Hansen—a man lucky in cards, unlucky in love—and the Boo Hag.

“…So night after night, Bobby’s new bride would scuttle away just after he fell asleep, only to come back just afore sunup. She’d never say where she’d been, and always acted so sweet in the day. Not knowin’ what to do, Bobby sought the advice of a Hoodoo priestess ten miles out of town. ‘You watch her,’ she tells Bobby. ‘You pretend to be a’sleepin’, and you watch her. And then, you come back to me.’ Well, Bobby does as he’s told, and follows her one night up to the attic. He watches his wife sit at a spinnin’ wheel, and starts spinnin’ off her very skin!”

Violet, hands resting on the edge of the silver pitcher she’d forgotten about, watched with eager eyes. “The Boo Hag!”

“The Boo Hag,” Charlie agreed with a smile. “Sure ‘nuff, Bobby comes back to the priestess to tell her what he saw. ‘You’ve married a Boo Hag,’ she says. ‘A shape-shiftin’ witch who brings men to her Boo Daddy, who eats their flesh and bones. And if you don’t get her first, that’s exactly what’ll happen to you.’“

“I hardly think this is an appropriate story for a young lady to hear.” Both Violet and Charlie turned to see Mrs. Donovan at the door, a frown on her face. “Really, Charlie, ain’t you got nicer stories to tell?”

“Yessum,” said Charlie, “but they ain’t what Miss Violet likes to hear.”

“Well, Miss Violet’s done listening for the day.” Mrs. Donovan turned to her daughter, handing Violet a small purse and a shopping list. “Run down to the store and pick up what we need.”

“Yes, Mama.” She stood, leaving her unfinished silver to Charlie. Mrs. Donovan walked her to the front door, which was open to the hot, humid air. Mrs. Donovan was wiping her neck repeatedly with a small handkerchief. Violet had already put her hair in a bun to fend off the heat. She grabbed the shopping basket from the front door. “I’ll be back soon.”

“Not too soon I hope,” Mrs. Donovan said, fixing up Violet’s collar. “Eustace Carpenter’s been asking about you, you know.”

Violet scrunched up her face. “Oh Mama, is that what this is? You know I don’t like him.”

“I think you should give him a chance, sugar. He’s a good boy, and he’s wild about you.”

“But Mama.” Violet turned to Mrs. Donovan in a final plea. “He’s just so…stupid.”

“You hush, child,” said Mrs. Donovan sternly. “You’re a woman now, Violet. It’s time you start thinking about a family.”

“What if I don’t want one?”

“Nonsense. We all want one. Besides, you’re gonna need someone to take care of you soon enough. I won’t have no spinster living in my house.”

“But—”

“Violet.” Mrs. Donovan tucked a strand of her daughter’s hair behind her ear. “You’ve lived a free life, I’d say. I made sure you didn’t want for nothin’, not even after your daddy died. But there comes a time in every woman’s life where you’re done bein’ a girl. This ain’t like finding the right toy to play with. This is about finding a man who’ll take good care of you for the rest of your days. That Carpenter boy has the land and the money to support you and yours. It’s a proper match.”

Violet wanted to argue, but knew it was fruitless. Once her mother had decided something, it was nearly impossible to change her mind. Violet nodded and turned to leave, her eyes downward. Mrs. Donovan gave her a quick hug before sending her off. She wandered down the road, her mind full of her mother’s words.

Violet never liked Eustace Carpenter. When they were in school together, he pulled her pigtails and kicked dirt on her dress regularly. One day, he even put a toad in her lunch to make her scream in front of the whole class. Her mother insisted it was just the way boys played. After all, Violet was getting attention; she should be happy about it. After the toad incident, however, Violet had had enough and punched Eustace square in the jaw. She’d gotten a good spanking and went without supper as punishment, but Eustace didn’t pull her hair as much after that. Now that they were older, Eustace had started showing up whenever she went into town. He always invited her out, and she always declined.

As Violet walked through the road of Redrock, she smiled in greeting at the other townsfolk. The school bell rang out, some of the younger children running freely into town. The Dewdrop Saloon was opening its doors for the day, Mr. Harvey sweeping the front porch. Mrs. Stevens and her five children carried baskets of newly woven fabric into the tailor’s to sell. Little Tommy Hewett walked his family’s cow through the street, leading it by a rope around its neck. Its tin bell knocked back and forth with every step. Passers-by waved and smiled back at Violet, some even stopping to make small talk. When she got to the general store at the very end, she was thankful to step into the shaded building.

“Hello, Mr. Munts,” she said pleasantly.

Mr. Munts looked up from his counter. He was a middle-aged man, balding rapidly, with a pointed noise and a warm smile. He hunched over quite a bit, and often squinted to read or see who he was talking to. When Violet was little, Mr. Munts often gave her little candies or bits of hard sugar whenever she came in with her mother.

“Hello, Miss Donovan,” he replied. “Here for some shopping?”

“Yes, sir,” said Violet. She opened her list and began to read. “Where’s Mary today?”

“Out sick,” said Mr. Munts. “She’s been ill for three days now, poor thing.”

“Oh no. I should pay her a visit tonight. See how she is.”

Mr. Munts nodded in agreement, his eyes on his ledger. “That’s a lovely thought.”

Ting-a-ling. The store’s bell jingled as three young men walked inside. The first two were Peter and Paul Hainsworth—twins that were both lanky with shaggy, brown hair. The only difference between them was a scar Paul had beneath his right eye. They were accompanied by Eustace Carpenter.

Violet turned back to the sacks of flour on the store shelf, trying desperately to keep her face hidden from Eustace as he made conversation with Mr. Munts. However, it didn’t take long for the three to notice her.

“Howdy there, Violet.” Eustace approached with a sloppy smile. Eustace had always been a big lad, even when they were younger. He was stocky, with beefy arms and a thick neck. His ears stuck out at odd angles under his shortly shorn blond hair. He wore worn-out denim coveralls, haggard boots, and a faded shirt. He and his family owned the barnyard for the town; next to the Donovans, the Carpenters were the richest family there. “Nice mornin’, ain’t it?”

“It’s nearly one o’clock, Eustace,” said Violet flatly.

“Oh, issit?” He scratched his head with mild interest. “Say, it’s Saturday, Violet. How’s about you come for a drink tonight at the saloon with me?”

Immediately, Violet wanted to say no. She felt Peter and Paul on either side of her now, effectively locking her into that space in front of the flour. She felt like a field mouse, trapped by rattlers. “I’m busy tonight.” Grabbing a small sack of flour, she stuffed it into her basket and ducked between Paul and Eustace, walking towards the sugar.

“You’re busy all the time,” Eustace complained. “Just get your nigger to do your work for ya.”

“Charlie is my friend,” said Violet defensively.

“Negros don’t make good friends,” said Peter. “Just good help.” The three laughed, and Violet angrily threw another small sack of sugar on top of the pile in her basket before storming over to the tins of coffee beans. As dumb as he was, Eustace seemed to at least notice when he’d upset a girl. He followed her, hands in his pockets.

“C’mon now,” he said, “we was only playin’. We didn’t mean to offend you none.” Violet glared at him, but said nothing. She grabbed a tin of coffee, but Eustace placed his hand on the top, keeping her from taking it. “We won’t talk bad ‘bout your negro no more.”

“Charlie,” said Violet pointedly. “And she ain’t nobody’s Negro. She earns herself a wage, Eustace.”

“Charlie,” Eustace repeated. “All right then. We won’t talk bad ‘bout Charlie no more.” Violet stared at him doubtfully, and snatched the coffee tin away from his hand. “Look, you don’t never come out with me when I ask ya. What do I gotta do to change your mind, Violet?”

But Violet gave him no answer. Instead, she turned sharply and walked her basket straight towards Mr. Munts’ counter. She could feel Eustace getting angrier. He marched up beside her and took her arm, making her jerk around in surprise. “Don’t you walk away when somebody’s talkin’ to you, girl!”

“That’s enough, boys.” The calm voice of Mr. Munts turned Eustace’s head. The grocer looked over his dingy glasses, frowning. “Miss Donovan has a lot to do today. Be on your way, Mr. Carpenter. Mr.’s Hainsworth.” The boys hesitated, but Eustace let Violet’s arm go and the three left the store. Mr. Munts shook his head. “Sorry about that, Miss Donovan. Did he hurt you any?”

Violet checked her bare arm. There was a slight red mark where Eustace had grabbed her, but nothing else. “No. T’ain’t nothin’.” She smiled at Mr. Munts with gratitude. “Thank you. I never thought he’d leave.”

“You pay him no mind, Miss Donovan. Boys like that don’t take much consideration for others.”

“Hmph.” Violet folded her arms as Mr. Munts began to ring her up. “I wish he’d learn some. Mama wants me to give him a chance. I’d rather take a hound dog over Eustace.”

Mr. Munts chuckled. “Well, in my opinion, Miss Donovan, you’re pretty enough to have your pick of the litter. No need to settle on a hound.” He winked, making Violet smile. “That’ll be one dollar and seventy-seven cents. Oh, and—” Mr. Munts dug through a small glass jar and handed Violet a wrapped butterscotch candy. “—that one’s free.” Violet paid and headed out, tucking her butterscotch into the pocket of her dress.

* * * *

The wind was cooler as the sun lowered in the sky. The trees shook as a gust played with their branches. Fields and fields of wild grass shifted like waves of an ocean. Violet, seated securely in Maple’s saddle, rode with the wind. She bounced with every jump of Maple’s canter, her fingers twisted up in her cream colored mane. Maple took her around the open field and into the woodlands, darting through trees easily. After ten years of life there, the pair of them knew the Donovan Estate by heart.

By sundown, Violet laid in the grass, watching the orange clouds float by above her. Maple grazed next to her.

“You think this is where I’ll die, Maple?” The horse gave no answer. “When we were in Atlanta, the world seemed so big. I remember running down the streets for hours, for what seemed like miles. Miles and miles of streets…” She tugged at a few blades of grass. “Now I’m here.” A bird flew overhead, vanishing behind the tree line. “Maybe Mama’s right. Maybe I do need to start thinkin’ about a family. She was my age when she got married.

“But I just don’t know.” Violet sat up, plucking a twig out of her hair. “Ain’t you supposed to be in love first? Or at least like the person somewhat.” Maple walked over and gummed her hair affectionately. Violet giggled. “Hell, I think I’d rather marry you if I could. Then we can go anywhere we wanted and nobody’d say a word about it.”

“Miss Violet!” She heard Charlie faintly call from the property. Violet turned over her shoulder to see her waving. “It’s gettin’ dark! Come on inside.”

“Coming!” Violet shouted back. She stood and hopped into Maple’s saddle, trotting her back to the stable. There, she put her up for the night, and came inside soon after. Mrs. Donovan was waiting inside.

“Supper’s almost ready,” she said. “Did you say you were out after?”

“Yes,” said Violet. “Mary Humphrey’s been ill. I wanted to stop in and see how she’s doing.”

Mrs. Donovan smiled. “Well let’s wrap up something to take her. We still got some of that pie left.”

“Good idea, Mama.”

They washed up and sat themselves at the table as Charlie served them their stew. Violet was reminded of Eustace and Peter’s taunts from earlier that day. A strange thought came to her. “Charlie?” Both Charlie and Mrs. Donovan turned to her. “Why don’t you…take supper with us tonight?” She gestured to the empty chair with a smile. “Seems silly, you eating in the other room.” Her smile faded, however, as an awkward pause hung in the air.

“Violet…?” Her mother looked concerned. “What brought this on?” She turned to Charlie, as though expecting answers. Quickly, Charlie held up her hands.

“That—that’s awfully kind of you, Miss Violet, but there’s no need. I’ll go take my supper in the kitchen.”

Violet opened her mouth to say more, but Charlie hurried away before she could. Mrs. Donovan turned a concerned eye to her. “Is everything all right, Violet?” she asked.

But Violet ignored her mother’s question. “Why can’t Charlie eat with us? What’s wrong about that?”

“What do you mean, ‘why’? She eats with us at Christmas and sometimes Sundays—”

“But why not every day?”

“Violet.”

“She lives here, don’t she? She’s part of our family, ain’t she?”

“That’s enough now.” Mrs. Donovan was starting to get angry. “I don’t know what brought this on, but I’ll hear no more about it.”

“Mama, I love Charlie. Don’t you?”

“Of course I do. She’s good help, and she’s always made you happy, sugar. But listen to me. Not everybody in this life is worth the same.”

Violet felt her heart plummet. “How-how can you say that, Mama?”

“It ain’t a bad thing,” Mrs. Donovan defended. “It’s like…it’s like you and Maple, honey. You love Maple, right? She loves you? That’s all well and good, but you wouldn’t want Maple to eat at the table with us, would you? Because there’s a difference there.”

“Charlie ain’t a horse!”

“You keep your voice down when talking to me, girl! Now you have been gettin’ on my last nerve lately, and I won’t tolerate much more of it.” Frustrated and angry, Violet stood up and threw her napkin down to the table. “You sit your hind end right back in that chair, or God help me I’ll make it so sore you won’t sit for a week! You ain’t too old for that!”

Violet ignored her. She stomped away, throwing open the front door and slamming it shut. Mrs. Donovan came running after her, but Violet picked up the pace. Racing out into the town, she didn’t have to look back to know that her mother had stopped at the front porch. Once she was far enough away, Violet slowed to a halt and leaned up against the side of a building to catch her breath. It was dark now, with only the stars and the lit windows around her to provide light. Taking in her surroundings, she found herself past the saloon and closer to the churchyard. Immediately, she spotted the Humphrey household. There was a light on inside, so Violet approached.

After straightening out her dress, she knocked. There was the sound of rustling inside before it opened. Mrs. Humphrey blinked in surprise. She was a frail woman, whose thin hair was constantly pinned up behind her head. “Violet?”

“Hello, Mrs. Humphrey,” she said. “I came by to check on Mary. I hope I’m not interrupting supper.”

Mrs. Humphrey’s face drooped. A sudden sadness struck her eyes, and Violet worried that she’d said something wrong. Mrs. Humphrey spoke again. “Mary…Mary isn’t well, Violet. Perhaps you can come another time?”

Violet inched closer. “I can’t see her? Not at all?”

Mrs. Humphrey paused with indecision. Finally, she nodded and stepped away. Violet noticed that a place had been set for Mary at the dinner table, but Mary wasn’t there. Now even more worried, Violet went to Mary’s door and gently knocked. “Mary?” she called. There was no answer at first. “Mary, it’s me, Violet. I came to see how you were.” Violet heard nothing. She had just begun to turn the doorknob when the door itself finally cracked open. Behind it stood Mary Humphrey.

Violet and Mary had grown up together, even though Violet was a little older. Mary had always been a sweet, quiet type, with curly blonde hair and blue eyes. She never liked playing in the dirt, like Violet did, and much preferred to read or sew in her leisure time. Mary was a bright, beautiful girl. Which was why, upon seeing her, Violet barely recognized her. There was no color on her face. Bags under her eyes insisted that she hadn’t been sleeping well. Her hair was a mess, and there was dirt under her fingernails.

“Mary…?”

“Hello, Violet,” she whispered, almost as though she was afraid to be heard.

“Mary, what…? I came over cause Mr. Munts said you were ill…”

Mary visibly flinched at the name and retreated further into her room. “Yes,” she said, her voice even quieter. “Quite ill.”

“Is there anything I can-?”

Mary shook her head. “No, Violet. Nothing.”

“Mary…”

Saying nothing else, Mary closed the door between them and Violet heard a click of the lock. She stood there, unsure of what to do. She lifted her hand to knock again, but lowered it soon after. Turning, Violet saw Mrs. Humphrey in the kitchen, hunched into a handkerchief, crying softly. Violet approached with caution. “Mrs. Humphrey? What happened to Mary?” Mrs. Humphrey gave no answer, and instead wiped her eyes and gestured to the door.

“Please. Please just…”

Violet stood, helplessly. Her heart, she felt, could sink no lower. She could only imagine what had truly happened to Mary. Perhaps she would ask Mr. Munts about it when she saw him next. With no word of goodbye, Violet left the house and stepped into the dark street. She turned one last time, opening her mouth to say something else, but Mrs. Humphrey had shut the door. Violet stared at the windows. She saw Mrs. Humphrey draw the curtains and snuff out the gas lamps. Violet began to head for home. Mind in the clouds, she walked slowly through the dark. Occasionally, she looked up to the stars, as though they would supply her with comfort. They blinked silently on.

She had just about reached the Dewdrop Saloon when she felt something bump into her leg. Blinking, she looked down. A boy, no older than nine, stared up at her. Now, Violet had spent the last ten years of her life memorizing the names and faces of the people of Redrock; this boy was a complete stranger. He had vibrant red hair and a face spattered with freckles. His clothes were dingy and his boots were barely laced.

“Oh,” said Violet automatically. “I’m sorry, did I hurt you?”

The boy shook his head. “Naw.”

“I don’t think I’ve seen you before, boy. What’s your name?”

He frowned and put his hands on his hips. “I don’t tell no strangers my name.”

That caught Violet by surprise. “Oh? Why not?”

“They don’t gots to know.”

“I see. Well, what are you doing in Redrock?”

“They don’t gots to know that, either.”

Violet folded her arms. “Well, there must be some reason a strange boy shows up in the middle of the night. Where are your parents? Or do I not get to know that, either?” He remained tight lipped. Violet, too drawn in by curiosity, looked around to try and find some semblance of the boy’s parents. Her hand, by default, rested beside her pocket, when she felt something. Reaching inside, Violet pulled out the butterscotch candy Mr. Munts had given her that day.

“Would you tell me for a candy?” The boy’s eyes honed in on it. Clearly, he had hit an impasse.

“What do I gots to say?”

“What’s your name and whatchya doin’ here in Redrock?” She lowered the candy, but pulled it back when he swiped for it. “You promise to tell me?” He nodded feverishly. Violet turned the candy over, and he quickly popped it into his mouth. “Now. Start with your name.”

“Rory,” he said without hesitation. “Name’s Rory McNab.”

“Well. Pleasure to meet you, Rory McNab. I’m Violet Donovan. See? Easy enough. Now why’re you here?”

Rory seemed less thrilled to say that part. “I, er…I’m tryin’ to find somebody.”

“Your parents?”

“Naw,” said Rory. “A fella. A bad fella.”

This piqued Violet’s interest. She leaned over, curiously. “What kind of bad fella?”

But Rory shook his head. “Can’t tell you more’n that. It’ll get me in trouble.”

A noise from the saloon pulled Violet’s attention away. She looked up to see Eustace and the Hainsworth twins laughing at the front door. It was early in the evening and already their faces were flush with drink. Violet turned back to Rory, but he’d already gone.

“Violet!” Eustace shouted towards her, waving stupidly. Violet scowled and started walking back towards her house. Eustace rushed to block her path, Peter and Paul grinning from the porch. “Hey now, Violet! Why you goin’ off so soon?” His callused hands took her shoulders roughly, pulling her close. “You decided to come out anyway, didn’tchya? Well, we can show you a good ol’ night, can’t we, boys?”

“You betchya!” yelled Paul. “C’mon inside and have a drink with us!”

“We promise to get you to church tomorra!” yelled Peter.

Violet squirmed her way out of Eustace’s hands. “No thank you,” she said pointedly. As she tried to sidestep Eustace, he continued to block her way. In no mood for games, Violet boiled. “Please move.”

“Not till I get me a kiss,” slobbered Eustace.

Violet pulled back in disgust. “You are a vile, idiot boy, Eustace Carpenter.”

“And you’re the perdiest girl in Arkansas.” He now grabbed her waist, jerking her further in. “Gimme one lil’ kiss, darlin’.”

“Not on your life!” Violet pushed and struggled, feeling his heavy hands tug on her dress. She could hear a few seams burst under his fingers. “Let me-let me go, Eustace!”

“Gimme one kiss!” Eustace shouted. “Just gimme one, Violet!”

“Mr. Carpenter!” A voice rattled them both, and Eustace looked over his shoulder. For the second time that day, Mr. Munts had come to the rescue. He was glaring sternly at Eustace. “Let Miss Donovan go.”

Eustace snarled. “Vamoose ya old buzzard!”

“I said, let Miss Donovan go.” Mr. Munts stepped closer. “Or should I call the sheriff to deal with you?”

Even soused, Eustace understood the threat. Slowly, he released Violet’s waist, and she tore from his arms quickly. Mr. Munts walked swiftly forward. “Come along, Miss Donovan.” Violet needed no further prompting. She hurried and followed Mr. Munts towards his general store.

“Want me to escort you straight home?” he asked. “Or would you mind if we stopped in my shop a moment? I only stepped out for a quick spill.”

Violet nodded. “Of course, Mr. Munts.” She followed him inside; better than walking home alone with a drunk Eustace following her. The general store was eerie at night, the floorboards creaking under their feet as they made their way upstairs. Violet had never seen Mr. Munts’ loft. When he opened the door, she took a good look inside. It was a one-bedroom area, barely the size of the store floor below. A simple bed sat in the corner next to a small tower of books. A dresser sat unopened at the foot of the mattress. There was a desk for writing, and oil lamps all along the room’s walls.

“Shouldn’t be too long now,” said Mr. Munts. “I just need to finish something. Please, have a seat, Miss Donovan.” Violet pulled out the desk chair and sat herself down, hands folded in her lap. Mr. Munts began to flip through a few books, scribbling something in pencil. “Now…I distinctly recall you rejecting Mr. Carpenter’s invitation for tonight.” He looked over his glasses. “Did you have a change of heart?”

“Oh no,” said Violet. “I was just um…” She thought back to the fight with her mother. “I was checkin’ in on Mary.” Reminded of her friend, Violet’s face fell. “Mr. Munts? Do you know what happened to her?”

Mr. Munts had gone back to his books. “Happened?” he asked.

“Yes,” said Violet. “She looks ragged somethin’ awful. Would barely talk to me, and her poor mother’s a mess, too. It looks like…well I don’t know, myself. I wondered if maybe you’d know a thing or two about it?”

The inquiry hung in the air as Mr. Munts finished up his log. “I can’t say that I do,” he finally replied. “Mary got sick about three days ago now. Her mother mentioned she might be out till next week.”

“But she works with you!” Violet pried. “Wouldn’t you have heard somethin’?”

He turned a page and continued writing. “All I know is that she’s ill, and all I can do is wish her better.” Finally, he laid his pencil down and closed his books. “There we are.” He smiled at Violet. “Orders to be filled by the end of the week. I’m afraid I’d left it to the last minute.” He tucked the note pad and book neatly to the corner of his desk. “Before I take you home,” he continued, “would you care for a drink, Miss Donovan?”

Violet looked up, surprised. “A drink?” she repeated. Violet didn’t drink often. A glass of wine at Christmas, a sip at communion, but nothing really beyond that. “I…Mama wouldn’t approve, I don’t think.”

“Oh?” Mr. Munts pulled a glass decanter from his wardrobe. Violet immediately admired it; it was a beautiful bottle, and most likely expensive. The liquid, she noticed, did not look like wine. Mr. Munts uncorked it and began to pour two small, crystal glasses. “And why would she disprove? You know me, don’t you?”

“Well…well, yes.”

“As does your mother.” Mr. Munts set a glass in front of her. The amber liquid reflected the orange flames of the oil lamps. It smelled stronger than any wine she’d ever had. “This isn’t a pint of beer at the bar. You’re in my home. And from what I can tell, you’ve had a stressful night.” He sipped his own glass, leaning against the desk beside her. “It’s only neighborly of me.”

Hesitant, Violet took the glass in her hands. It was heavier than she first suspected; the glass looked so delicate. She glanced back up at Mr. Munts one last time before taking a sip. Instantly, the bitter liquid bit at her tongue and the back of her throat. She scrunched her face tightly and pulled her head back. Mr. Munts chuckled.

“Brandy,” he said. “It’s an acquired taste.” He sipped his own easily. “Tell me something, Miss Donovan—may I call you Violet?”

Violet felt a prickle on her neck as he said her name. It unnerved her in a way she couldn’t put to words. Still, she nodded. “Of course, Mr. Munts.”

Mr. Munts nodded. “Violet,” he began again. “How are you doing these days? How is your health?”

Violet was somehow surprised at the simple question. Perhaps because she was alone, at night, in a man’s house drinking liquor; usually, one didn’t make light conversation in such a telling circumstance. But Violet steadied herself. This is Mr. Munts, she thought. Ain’t nothing wrong with it.

“Well enough,” she said plainly. “It’s gettin’ colder at night, ain’t it? Round this time, I mean…Last year I had a fever something terrible, but Charlie was able to whip up this chili oil concoction. Lord, it was the worst tasting stuff in the whole wide world, but she had me drink it all. I couldn’t taste nothing for a full week after that, but sure enough, my fever broke the next morning…” She hesitated. “I’m-I’m sayin’ too much, aren’t I?”

“Not at all.”

“Cause Mama always goes on about me talkin’ too much. When I was little, she used to smack my hands with a ruler. Sometimes that still wasn’t enough to get me to shut up.”

“I see.”

“I remember one day at school, me and Mary were supposed to help with the Christmas service, but that dress Mama put me in was so unbearable. It was hotter than it shoulda been, I remember that. And I kept begging her to let me change, even in the middle of the sermon.” She stared at her drink. “Mary…Oh, Mr. Munts, I fear something truly dreadful has happened to her. And you know what I think?” She snapped her face back up to Mr. Munts. “I think it was Eustace Carpenter. He musta done something to poor Mary. Assaulted her or the like. Like what he was trying to pull on me just tonight. We should go to the sheriff, Mr. Munts!”

“Violet?”

“Mm?”

“Take another drink.” Violet stalled before taking a delicate sip of her brandy. It didn’t taste any better.

“Now.” Mr. Munts set his glass on the desk. “I’m going to ask you something. And I’m going to need you to not ask me why.” He turned to her fully, his eyes serious. “I need you to forget about Mary Humphrey.”

A cold spell ran down Violet’s spine. Forget about Mary? It was an impossible thing to ask. “What do you mean, Mr. Munts?”

“I mean,” Mr. Munts began to clarify, “that whatever it was that happened to her is none of your concern. It’s for the best, you see? Think of all the trouble it would cause Mrs. Humphrey if you started sticking your nose into where it didn’t belong.”

“But Mary’s my friend.” Violet began to feel her muscles tense. She was uneasy and growing steadily angrier. “I can’t just forget my friend. And if something really did happen—”

“Then it would be up to Mary’s family to deal with it. Don’t misunderstand me, child, I’m sure you have the best of intentions, but you would only do more harm than good.”

“And how’d you know, Mr. Munts?” Violet stood, bubbling in frustration.

“I’d know because I’ve been around quite a bit longer than you have.” While Violet’s voice grew louder, Mr. Munts’ voice grew softer. More than that, there was something deadly in his tone. “Stay out of it, Violet.”

“Why should I?”

“I told you not to ask me why.” Mr. Munts stepped forward, and Violet felt smaller. It was like being cornered by Eustace, but worse. Eustace was a dumb dog, easily distracted by bone or an old shoe. Looking at Mr. Munts felt like looking down the muzzle of a hungry coyote. Violet now wished that she’d taken her chances with the dog.

“What ain’t you telling me, Mr. Munts?” Violet’s voice was weakening, but she held firm.

“It’s getting late.” Mr. Munts suddenly grabbed her arm. His bony fingers gripped her tightly. “Perhaps it’s time I walk you home, Violet.”

“Not till you tell me—”

“A lady should know her place.” Mr. Munts began to drag her towards the door. “She should know when to keep out of a man’s business.”

Violet struggled, and eventually managed to rip her arm away from Munts’ grip. She dodged around him and rushed towards the desk, though she realized it might have been best if she’d gone for the door. Violet turned as Munts approached her, slowly. Her hands went behind her back, fingers feeling for the crystal glass of brandy that sat in the lamplight. “Come now, Violet,” said Munts. “This is all so silly. Let me walk you home.” He took two more steps, and when he was just within reach—

KSSH!

Munts cried out as Violet slammed the glass against his temple. Twinkling shards of crystal fell from his face like snow as the brandy splashed wildly. Violet dashed back around him and went for the door. However, Munts’ hand flailed, managing to grab her skirts as she passed. Violet fell to the floor, inches away from freedom. She turned, horrified, as a bloodied Munts loomed over her.

“Pestilent whore!” he spat, now clasping his soiled temple. “I’ll have your neck for this, girl! Or maybe…” He loomed closer, Violet now trembling on the floor, too afraid to run. “Maybe I should teach you a lesson like I taught your dear Mary.”

“Mary—!”

Munts slammed his fist into the door, keeping it in its frame. “She was quiet, that one. Barely made a peep, even when she cried. You? Well…I think you’ll be a whole different story.” He knelt over her, his filthy hand grabbing at the front of her dress. He began to rip it as she struggled.

“I wonder…You really a virgin under all them skirts, Violet?”

Violet was sick with horror. Overpowered and head spinning, she could think of nothing to do but close her eyes and pray. She shut them tightly, heart beating against her neck as Munts clawed at her dress.

God in heaven! Help me! Save me!

As though her prayers had been answered, Munts’ hands suddenly stopped. In fact, he seemed to stop breathing all together. Confused, Violet cracked her eyes open. There was Munts, staring at her, with the end of a hunting knife sticking straight out of his neck.

Violet was so shocked, she couldn’t scream. She could only watch as Munts gargled his last breath, the blood dripping like oil down his gangly tendons. With a sudden pull, the knife was removed. Munts lingered only a second, and then fell to the side, dead as a door nail.

Cold and woozy, Violet noticed a new figure standing behind Munts, who was clutching the murder weapon. It was a woman, with deep black hair and eyes, dressed in trousers and boots. A bandanna hung around the base of her neck, leaving Violet free to stare her straight in the eye. The woman—Chinese, by the look of her—turned to Violet with genuine surprise. Then, it melted into frustration. With an exasperated sigh, the woman pinched her nose and said:

“Christ, it’s gonna be a long night.”

Chapter 2

The dead body of Mr. Munts was gushing blood from his neck. The mystery woman was cleaning off her knife with Mr. Munts’ desk doily. “So.” She spat on the blade, giving it a final rub, before sheathing it on her belt. “What to do about this situation.”

Violet shook. It was like time had both sped up and stopped all together. Up was down, down was up. If Violet wasn’t careful, she’d get sick all over the floor. At the woman’s words, she could say nothing, but merely pressed her sweaty back against the door. The woman sighed and stepped forward. Violet flinched back immediately, but the stranger didn’t seem ready to kill her. She knelt down, her face serious. “He hurt you? Violate you?” she asked. Violet shook her head. “Good. Then do yourself a favor, child. Stay calm. Walk away. And if anyone asks, you found him like this.”

Violet’s mind, at first a steady hum of numbness, began to switch back on. “You…you killed—you murdered—!”

The woman stood back up. “Men like that don’t deserve to live. Don’t you think?”

“Oh God…oh God.” Violet clutched her head. She was gripped with panic she couldn’t explain, her eyes locked on Mr. Munts’ corpse. The woman stepped in front of her, blocking her view.

“Keep your head, girl.”

“You—you murdered—!” Violet jumped to unsteady feet, her back flat against the door. “You killed Mr. Munts! Killed him dead and—! Oh Christ, Lord God!”

“Listen to me…” The woman inched closer.

Violet lurched back, slamming open the door on accident. “No! You—you stay away from me! Help! Help me!” Without a second thought, Violet turned on her heel and ran down the stairs and out into the night. She didn’t think to see if she was being followed. All she could focus on was getting help. Throwing herself into the night air, she continued to scream. Townsfolk lit their lamps and opened their doors. “She killed him! She killed him!” Violet stood in the moonlight for all to see. Blood splattered her skirt and bodice. Her hair was tangled, and her clothes were torn. As her neighbors quickly approached, Violet was hysterical, her knees giving way beneath her.

“Violet? Is that Violet?” Her head snapped up as the worried voice of her mother caught her attention. Mrs. Donovan split the crowd and rushed towards her. With weak arms, Violet reached out, and Mrs. Donovan pulled her quickly to her breast. “Oh Violet! I was just out looking for you—! My sweet child, what’s wrong? What happened, baby?”

Nestled in her mother’s bosom, Violet sobbed freely. “She killed him!” Violet repeated.

“Who, darling? Who killed who?”

“Mr. Munts! He’s dead! And she killed him!”

* * * *

“Now, I know you’re tired, Miss Donovan, but I’d like to go over the facts one last time. You and Mr. Carpenter had a disagreement, and that’s when Mr. Munts escorted you to his shop. You were talking when all of the sudden, a Chinese woman came through his window and stabbed him through the neck.”

“Yes, sir.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yes, sheriff. I’m sure.”

Sheriff Anderson scratched his forehead beneath his hat, hand on his hip. It was late in the evening, and he, Violet, and Mrs. Donovan sat in the kitchen, speaking. The mortician had been called to clean up the mess in Mr. Munts’ loft, and the sheriff had escorted the Donovan women home. Sheriff Anderson was a good man; kind, but sternly spoken. His hair was graying from age, and he had a pot belly kept in place only by his hardy belt. A gun lay unused at his hip. As Violet sat and recounted her story, Mrs. Donovan kept a hand on her daughter’s, encouraging her to stay strong. Violet just wanted to go to bed.

“There is one thing we didn’t go over, Miss.” Sheriff Anderson gestured towards her dress. “Your clothes. Did this woman attack you, too?”

Violet grabbed her arms, ashamed of the broken stitches and seams. “No, sheriff,” she finally said.

“No? Then what happened?”

Violet hesitated, but after a moment of thought, began to speak. “It-it was Mr. Munts.”

“What?” Mrs. Donovan looked aghast at the information.

Finding it easier to talk to the floor, Violet stared at the kitchen tile and continued. “I…I was worried about Mary. Mr. Munts said she’s had a fever for three days. When I saw her, she was…” Violet shook her head. “She was horrible. Worse than horrible. Like someone did somethin’ to her. Earlier tonight, when we were talking, Mr. Munts told me to leave it alone. I asked why, and he wouldn’t tell me. Then he tried to…” Her voice quaked. “He tried to…” Her eyes burned and she quickly wiped them with the palm of her hand. “He said—he said he’d teach me the same thing he t-taught Mary—!” Violet dissolved into tears. Mrs. Donovan, white as a sheet, gently held her shoulders, while the sheriff sighed, removing his hat.

“Did he assault you, Miss Donovan?”

“H-he tried,” Violet sniffed. “That’s when…th-that’s when…”

“All right, take a deep breath now.” Violet took several in attempts to calm herself down. Slowly, she looked up. Her mother was close to tears herself, but held it together. “Thank you for telling me this,” said Sheriff Anderson. “I’m sure you’re in need of a good night’s rest.” He was just turning to leave when the back door swung open. Sheriff Anderson’s deputy, Fredrick Marsh, stepped inside. A scrawny fellow with a beak-like nose, Marsh took off his hat in the presence of Mrs. Donovan and Violet.

“Pardon the intrusion, ma’am,” he said to Mrs. Donovan. He turned to Sheriff Anderson. “The boys combed every inch of Redrock. No sign of this China woman you’re lookin’ for.”

“She’s gone?” said Violet helplessly. “Just like that?”

Sheriff Anderson approached Marsh calmly. “Call it off for now. We’ll search again in the morning. Maybe she left some tracks we can follow.” He turned to Mrs. Donovan, tipping his hat. “You two get some rest. Good night, ladies.” He then escorted Marsh from the kitchen, leaving Mrs. Donovan and Violet alone together. Violet couldn’t look her mother in the eye. Somehow, she felt shame in the whole ordeal. What would her mother think of her alone at night in a man’s home? But far from giving a lecture, Mrs. Donovan immediately pulled Violet into her arms.

“Oh baby…” Her mother’s voice trembled with worry. “Violet…Oh Violet…” She could feel hot tears in her hair as her mother held her. Breaking the embrace, Mrs. Donovan was in shambles. She clutched a handkerchief to her heart, all color drained from her face. “Are you sure you aren’t hurt, my darling? Did he—?”

“No, Mama.” Violet took her hand in earnest. “He didn’t do nothin’. Nothin’ to me, anyway.” She furiously wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. “He…I can’t believe he did that to Mary. I can’t believe…he’s…”

“Shh, baby, shh…” Mrs. Donovan wiped Violet’s face with her handkerchief, letting her daughter calm down again.

A gentle knock came from the parlor door. Charlie poked her head through, her eyes red and swollen from crying herself. “Beg pardon, ma’am. I can take Miss Violet to bed.”

Mrs. Donovan turned. “Yes, please, Charlie—”

But Violet stood on her own. She kept her head low, her messy hair curtained around her face. “I can get myself to bed.” Eyes focused forward, Violet walked out of the kitchen and up to her bedroom. No lamps were lit, and a chill hung in the air. Violet looked at herself in the mirror. She barely recognized her reflection. Her hair was knotted and stuck to her face in dried sweat. A bruise sat at the base of her neck. Her nose was cherry red, and her cheeks were sallow and sunken. Deep bags hung beneath her eyes. She undressed and washed her face, her now ruined clothes piled in the corner of the bedroom.

It doesn’t seem real, came the thought. None of it…It’s like a nightmare. Lying in bed, she stared at the ceiling, now wide awake in spite of her heavy body. Perhaps, she reasoned, when I wake up tomorrow, it’ll all be the same as it was. Maybe this really is all a nightmare. Closing her eyes, she begged for sleep, in the slim hope that it would all have been a horrible, horrible dream.

Sleep never came. Violet watched as the darkness turned to a pallid, colorless gray outside. She heard birds stir beyond her bedroom window. Echoes of the Carpenters’ dairy cows joined them soon after. She could already hear Charlie getting up for the day and starting on breakfast. Violet had no appetite. The hours ticked on, but the skies didn’t brighten; the clouds stayed stationed overhead, leaving the world feeling lifeless and muddy.

Violet pulled herself out of bed before she was prompted to. Every inch off her body ached. Her head throbbed mercilessly. Dressing and washing for the day, she came downstairs to see Charlie cooking porridge. Charlie looked up, surprised.

“Oh—!” She turned, wiping her hands on her apron. “Good mornin’ Miss Violet. I was just gonna go check on you. How’re you feelin’ today?”

Violet sat at the table, hands in her lap. “I’m all right, Charlie. I don’t think I’m too hungry though. Just make enough for yourself and Mama.”

Charlie’s face twisted with worry. “You won’t eat nothin’?” Violet shook her head. With a sigh, Charlie turned back to the porridge, hands on her hips. “You should try. Just a bit.”

“No, thank you.”

Charlie hesitated before taking the pot off the stove. “Truth be told,” she said, “I ain’t hungry much, either.” She turned to the table and took the chair adjacent to Violet, taking her hand in comfort. She squeezed her fingers gently. “Poor child. Is there anything old Charlie can do for ya?”

With a smile, Violet squeezed her hand back. “This is enough,” she said.

“You should rest today, Miss Violet,” Charlie continued. “Maybe take Maple out for a ride. I can pack you a lunch.”

“That won’t be necessary, Charlie.” Violet turned to see Mrs. Donovan step into the kitchen, already dressed in her Sunday finery. She turned to her daughter. “We’ve got church today, after all.”

“Yes ma’am,” said Charlie, “but wouldn’t you think it’d be better for her to—?”

“I think a day of church is what we need after what happened,” Mrs. Donovan interrupted.

Charlie clearly wanted to argue otherwise, but Violet stood from the table. “I’ll go get dressed,” she said quietly. As she passed her mother, Mrs. Donovan gently took her wrist, stopping her at the door.

“Violet?” Violet hesitated before meeting her mother’s eyes. There seemed to be something on the tip of her tongue, but Violet pulled away gently before she could say it.

“I’m fine, Mama.” Violet walked upstairs and into her room, closing the door gently behind her.

The walk to church took longer that morning than it ever had in Violet’s memory. Usually, a church day meant smiles and waves and plans for the week. Neighbors would pass to say hello, and friends would often race to see who got to the churchyard first. Today, Violet’s feet felt heavy. Townsfolk stopped and stared at the pair of them. Violet tried to avoid their eyes, but felt utterly exposed in her bright blue Sunday dress. As she walked alongside her mother, she could hear whispers follow them. She felt burning stares press against her neck and her back, watching her every step. A few approached them to ask how Violet was doing. Mrs. Donovan answered for her.

“She’s doing well, thank you.” “Bit of a scare, but she’s fine now.” “Thank you for your concern.” Her mother’s answers were automatic and detached, but Violet was thankful for them. The faster she could be done with the day, the better.

By the time they arrived, most of the congregation was already inside. A steady mummer of voices trailed out of the open doors. The minute Violet stepped in, the voices stopped. Violet looked around the room. Everyone had turned in her direction.

A hot wash of embarrassment flooded her face. Violet bent her head down immediately and sat in one of the back pews. Her mother sat beside her. Conversations started up again, but Violet didn’t bother lifting her head. It wasn’t long before the pastor began to speak.

“Brothers and sisters,” came his voice, “today I welcome you into the House of the Lord with sincere sadness as we recover from the horrible tragedy of last night. Our dear Mr. Charles Munts, who has been with Redrock for decades, has been taken from us.” Violet tensed at the name, and gripped the front ruffles of her dress. “Many of us remember him for his kindness, and his gentle nature. For never was there a man more faithful, or more devoted to a godly life.”

“I wonder…You really a virgin under all them skirts, Violet?”

“Today, we are brought together in remembrance of a man whose life touched all of us. And whose warm smile and generous spirit we shall not soon forget.”

“Maybe I should teach you a lesson like I taught your dear Mary.”

“And as we commemorate his spirit to Heaven, let us remember that we are but sheep—”

“A lady should know her place.”

“—and the Lord is our shepherd. And under His watch—”

“Pestilent whore!”

“—we shall all be led into the Kingdom of Heaven.”

Violet stood upright, trembling in anger. Heads turned, a few whispering in surprise. Mrs. Donovan stared at her daughter, aghast. In a sharp, hushed voice, she spoke. “Sit down.” Violet pretended not to hear. Instead, she turned, and marched herself out of the church without a word.

Heading back home, Violet shed her Sunday dress in favor of her riding gear: a worn-out shirt, trousers with buttons down the front, and a pair of old boots. She rode for as long as Maple would allow. It was colder today, the early spring still finding its way to warmer weather. Violet didn’t care. Her blood pumped hot as she worked off her frustrations. The gentle, soothing sermon of the preacher still lingered. It remained juxtaposed to the images of Mr. Munts crawling over her, yanking at her dress. When Maple grew tired, Violet slipped from her saddle and walked the horse down to a small creek at the edge of their land. As Maple drank, Violet stared off into the trees on the other side of the stream. There was a path beyond the wooden fence of the Donovan property. Violet sometimes explored it when she was younger, but never got very far. Her mother often chastised her for going at all. It was dangerous for a girl to go off on her own. She was warned of all sorts of things: bears, Indians, bandits, all of which posed a threat to a solitary young lady.

Bandits.

Violet thought of the murderous woman. Now that she looked back, there was something familiar about the stranger. At the time, Violet had no chance to ponder it, but now she wondered. Had she seen her somewhere before? It could very well be that she’d seen her face on a wanted poster in Sheriff Anderson’s office. Somehow, Violet didn’t think that was it. Specifically, her voice had struck a chord with Violet, and looped in her memory endlessly.

“Hello, Violet. Charlie said I could find you out here.” A new voice caught her attention. Turning, she expected her angry mother, but was surprised to see Mary Humphrey standing before her. She looked better than the day before; she’d combed her hair and wore something fitting for a Sunday morning. Still, there were dark circles beneath her blue eyes, and her pale face was long and grim. “Is it true?” she asked.

Violet turned to her, at first surprised by Mary’s arrival, and then puzzled by what she said next. “True?” she repeated. “Is what true?”

“Did you kill him?”

A cold hand gripped Violet’s heart, and she stared, shocked, at the question. “Did I…?” Her voice trailed off. “What? No! No, of course I didn’t! Where’d you hear that?!”

Oddly enough, a fleeting look of disappointment crossed Mary’s face. “Rumor is he attacked you. So you killed him.” Mary tilted her head. “That ain’t what happened?”

“God—!” Violet put a hand to her heart. It was beating rapidly. “Who’d go and start a rumor like that? I told Sheriff Anderson all about the China woman. They’ll find her soon enough.”

Mary shook her head. “They can’t find hide nor hair of who you described,” she said. “Can’t even find horse tracks. Eustace says he saw you go off with Mr. Munts, and the next thing anybody knew, he was dead.”

“I didn’t kill him!” Violet insisted. She snorted with irritation. “Eustace Carpenter was drunk last night anyhow. I’m surprised he even remembered what happened.”

“So he was right?” Mary clarified. “You went off with Mr. Munts?”

Violet’s words caught in her throat. “Well yeah I—but I didn’t—!”

“Violet, you can tell me.” Mary was serious, her brows knit firmly. “I need to know. Did you kill Mr. Munts?”

Slowly, Violet’s frustration settled. “Mary?” she asked. “Did Mr. Munts…Did he rape you?”

Mary twitched, but stood still. “If I tell the truth, will you?” Violet nodded. “Yes,” she finally said. “He did.” The answer hung in the air, undisturbed for a time. Mary continued to speak. “He tried to take you too, didn’t he? Heard you was in bad shape when you left, screamin’ about some China woman…Violet, if that’s what you told Sheriff Anderson so you won’t get caught, I won’t tell nobody, honest.”

Violet shook her head. “No,” she said. “I swear what I said was true. I was with Mr. Munts. Yes, he tried to assault me. Before he could, that woman killed him dead. Mary…”

Mary shied away, pain clear in her white face. “I see.”

“Mary, why didn’t you tell me this yesterday when I came to ya? I coulda gone to the sheriff, and we woulda had Munts behind bars faster’n you could blink.”

“I couldn’t,” said Mary. “Mama, she…When she knew, she was beside herself with shame.”

“Shame?” Violet was flabbergasted. “Shame in what? You didn’t do nothin’!”

“Didn’t I?” Mary turned away, gripping her arms. She looked beyond the field and towards the town of Redrock. Her eyes were contemplative and steady. “I trusted him. When he asked me to stay later and later, I didn’t think nothin’ of it. He grabbed me, and I didn’t fight. I let ‘em…I let ‘em…” Her voice fell. “I’m soiled, Violet. Broken. Boys want good, Christian girls for wives. They want pure girls. Girls that’d make good mothers. Grandmothers. Not…” She stopped. Violet, without a word, approached Mary. She took Mary into her arms from behind, holding her dearly to her breast. Mary was still, and neither pulled away or pushed back.

“I didn’t kill him,” Violet repeated. “But there was somethin’ that woman said to me. She said: ‘men like that don’t deserve to live.’ I think she knew. She knew what kinda man Munts was; what he’d done.”

A tiny laugh escaped Mary’s throat. It was short and poisonous. “Well, if you see her again, be sure to give her my thanks.” She finally stepped out of Violet’s arms and turned to her with a frown. “If that’s the truth, you’d best get to Sheriff Anderson and talk to him.”

“Why? We already talked.”

“I saw him after church. He told his deputies to stop lookin’ for your China woman.”

“What for?”

“Because it ain’t just Eustace Carpenter who thinks you’re guilty, Violet.”

* * * *

Off beyond the little town of Redrock, thunderheads rolled slowly inland, rumbling gently in the distance. The air threatened rain by nightfall. As animals were escorted to shelter and townsfolk bolted their windows, Violet headed straight for Sheriff Anderson’s office. She walked at a brisk pace, having not even taken the time to change from her riding gear. Outside Sheriff Anderson’s small office stood the mortician, Mr. Beauregard Ives, who was currently nailing a poster to the wall. Mr. Ives was thin and skeletal, with hair whiter than the specters said to haunt his mortuary. No one knew how old he was, nor when he started his business. Violet had always been wary of him, as his presence was odd and off-putting. Today, she spared no such nonsense a thought and walked right up to Mr. Ives with purpose.

“Is Sheriff Anderson in?” she asked.

Mr. Ives turned his sunken eyes towards Violet. “Yes,” he said.

“May I speak with him?”

“No,” said Mr. Ives. “He’s busy at the moment, Ms. Donovan. Come back another time.”

“It’s urgent.”

“I’m sure it can wait. Sheriff Anderson is busy. Come back later tonight.” A distant rumble of thunder caught his attention. “Or perhaps tomorrow. When the weather is not so foul.”

“Mr. Ives, you don’t understand! I can’t wait that long! If I could only—”

“I will tell Sheriff Anderson that you wish to speak with him at once. But that is all I can do for you.” He turned back to his poster, hammering in the top right nail. Only then did Violet notice the picture on the poster.

Violet’s mystery woman, drawn in ink, stared back at her. She was slightly different than the woman Violet had described—her face was somehow harsher than in reality—but her penetrating eyes remained the same. Above her portrait was the word “WANTED.” Realizing she would get nowhere on her current path, Violet went around the building, unnoticed by Mr. Ives. Making sure she wasn’t seen, Violet rolled a barrel towards the back window of Sheriff Anderson’s office and climbed on top. Now level with the window sill, she crouched enough not to be noticed, but remained high enough to hear everything through the barred window. First, she heard Sheriff Anderson.

“And there’s nowhere else you can think to look?”

“No sir.” Violet recognized the voice of Deputy Marsh. “We checked all around the general store, the streets, the edge of town, everywhere. No one saw a stranger ride in or out of town. Unless Mr. Munts was killed by a ghost, I’d go so far as to say this woman don’t exist.”

There was a lull in the conversation. “This sure is a tough spot, Fred. I saw the state of the Donovan girl’s dress. No doubt she was attacked last night.”

“But you don’t really think—? Violet was always such a sweet girl.”

“I won’t argue. But even the kindest animals fight back when they’re scared. And Violet was very, very scared.”

“I just can’t believe any of this. Mr. Munts…Why, we ain’t never had a problem with him, never once. How do we even know the story of the Humphrey girl is true?”

“We don’t. Mary won’t talk to me either way. Can’t imagine why. At this point, all we have to go on is what Violet tells us herself. Which is starting to look less and less like the truth.” Violet’s heart pounded. She wondered if they could hear it inside. Holding her fear at bay, she listened intently. Neither man seemed to want to say what was on their minds. Eventually, Marsh spoke up.

“What’s gonna happen to her? She’s a good girl. You don’t think…?”

“I s’pose she could claim that she was defending herself. But Mr. Munts kept a clean slate. Selling the story that he attacked her might be hard to do. And even if she does, even if Ms. Humphrey comes forward, the fact remains that she still killed a man. I’ve been Sheriff of this town for twenty-five years. Not too many judges take kindly to murderesses. Unless she gets herself a damn fine lawyer, she’ll be convicted.

“And then…well…she’ll most likely be strung up for it. Probably right here in town.”

Violet didn’t hear the rest of the conversation. She couldn’t.

She couldn’t hear.

She couldn’t breathe.

She couldn’t think.

Convicted.

Strung up.

Hung.

What Mary said was true: everyone believed that she had been the one to kill Mr. Munts, and they didn’t even take a day to reach their conclusions. As she climbed off the barrel, she barely had the energy to stand upright, and nearly knocked it over in the process. She tried to focus on her hands, but her vision was blurry. Violet walked as if in a fog. She hadn’t even noticed that it began to rain. Mud splattered her boots and trousers, and her shirt grew thick with water. She barely registered the weight. Her mind was looping Sheriff Anderson’s words endlessly. Convicted. Strung up. Right here in town. The night before, Violet had been terrified of so many things. Now? Violet felt numb, as though the world had simply shut off.

“…iolet…Hey, Violet!”

Violet turned, just slightly, when she heard her own name. Safe under the awning of the Dewdrop Saloon, Eustace Carpenter stood with his arms crossed. His face was drawn seriously in a way that made him look like a concerned ape. Violet would have laughed if she had the energy for it.

“Why’d you walk out of church today?” Eustace demanded.

Violet swayed where she stood. Rather than ignoring him, she answered simply. “Didn’t feel like stayin’.”

“I talked to Sheriff Anderson,” Eustace continued. “He and his have been lookin’ for your woman all night. Can’t seem to find her.”

“Yes, I know.”

“So?” Eustace stepped closer to the edge of the awning. “You done it? Or what?”

Violet was silent a moment. She observed Eustace’s face. There was accusation in his eye, and something else. Something she never thought she’d see in the eyes of Eustace Carpenter. It flickered like a dying candle, and immediately caught Violet’s interest. Violet stepped forward once. Eustace inched backward. Violet tilted her head curiously. “Why does it matter to you, Eustace?”

Eustace hesitated, shifting uncomfortably. “It-it don’t.”

“Oh?” Violet took another step forward. Eustace practically leapt back. She felt an odd thrill at the sight. A sick sense of satisfaction budded inside of her, and she rounded to Eustace fully. “I think it does,” she said. “Why so scared? Hm? All this time, were you just some lump of hot air? All I had to do was give you a little…prick?” Violet made a sudden jerk with her arm. Eustace, almost out of instinct, grabbed the pole that held up the saloon’s awning. Violet threw her head back and laughed. Perhaps she would die for a crime she didn’t commit, but seeing Eustace crumble like dirt was almost worth the rope.

“She-demon!” Eustace spat. The veins in his neck popped out madly, but he didn’t dare move from his safe spot. “They’re gonna hang you high, Violet! And we’re all gonna watch!” Violet didn’t bother shouting back. Eustace Carpenter was afraid of her—maybe even terrified. She didn’t need to say another word. Even with the world falling apart around her, at least she would leave it with the satisfaction of making Eustace wet himself.

That small victory didn’t last long. As the rain poured harder, Violet grew heavier. She sloshed her way through the town and back to her home. All the while, the reality of her fate settled on her like poison ice. She shivered, wondering vaguely if she’d die at the gallows with a cold. By the time she reached her front door, Violet was trembling. She walked inside and shut it behind her. A puddle of rainwater grew steadily bigger at her feet. That’s when the heartache began. Violet was familiar with heartache. Of what little she remembered about her father, crying endlessly after his funeral stayed with her. Her first night in Arkansas, Violet was overwhelmed with homesickness, and clutched her pillow for comfort. Eustace had made her feel ill many times in her younger days, and there were plenty of nasty fights with her mother growing up that left her ruined.

This was beyond anything she felt before.

Violet collapsed to her knees, her hands clutching her shoulders. She felt as though her insides were being shredded by iron claws. Her head throbbed with each heartbeat. Every bone in her body ached. The world spun when she closed her eyes, and didn’t stop when she opened them. She tried to get to her feet, but her legs were limp, and sent her back to the floor. She would have chipped a tooth if she hadn’t braced herself with her hands. Laying along the cold wood, shivering and drenched, Violet cried. She didn’t care who heard. Her mouth opened wide, and she wailed as loud as her lungs could allow. She didn’t notice the rushing footsteps from the stairs and the kitchen. When familiar hands tried to pick her up, Violet shook them off, weeping even louder. Voices tried to speak up, but Violet drowned them out. They tried to get her to stand. Violet didn’t. They tried to get her to be quiet, to stop crying. But it felt good to cry. So Violet cried.

Somehow, eventually, Violet was half dragged into the parlor, still bawling and sopping like a drowned cat. Finding herself on the lounging couch, fatigue calmed her down enough to look around. Charlie and Mrs. Donovan held her to the cushions, breathlessly trying to speak. “Oh Lord…” Charlie was close to tears herself, and quickly grabbed a blanket off the arm chair. She wrapped Violet around in it tightly, wiping her face and hair. “We were so worried ‘bout you, Miss Violet! What happened?”

“First you abandon church, now this…” Mrs. Donovan wrung a handkerchief in her hands anxiously, not sure what to do about her hysterical daughter. “What in God’s name has gotten into you, child?”

Violet didn’t know if she could answer. She teetered gently where she sat, still trying to catch her breath. Her stomach churned, and her head felt worse than before. On the verge of unconsciousness, she muttered: “I need a bath…”

Charlie and Mrs. Donovan looked at each other. Slowly, Charlie stood, keeping her own tears at bay. “Yessum,” she said softly. “I’ll run you one. Come on now.” Charlie eased her to her feet, her hands strong as she held Violet upright. Without another word, Violet was gently ushered upstairs, where Charlie ran a warm, comforting bath for her.

* * * *

Violet slept in intervals of two or three hours a piece. Exhausted from the day, she fell asleep quickly, only to see images of blood and the feeling of something tight around her neck. Each time, she awoke with a start, her skin slick with sweat. The fourth time she woke, Violet sat up in bed. Her blankets and nightdress were both soaked. Violet dragged herself to her washbowl and wiped herself down. She changed clothes, but didn’t feel like crawling back into bed. When before she could barely keep her eyes open, now she was restless. Violet looked at the clock on her wall. It was nearly three-thirty in the morning. She contemplated going out to her horses when she heard footsteps in the kitchen.

Making her way downstairs, Violet saw Charlie sitting at the kitchen table, knitting feverishly. She was also dressed in her cap and gown, a glass of half-drank milk beside her. When Charlie noticed she was there, she first looked up with a start. “Lord.” She put a hand over her heart. “You scared me, Miss Violet…I didn’t hear you come down.”

Violet stepped in further. “Sorry Charlie.”

Charlie pulled out a chair and pat it. “Couldn’t sleep either?”

“Not well,” Violet admitted, sitting down. “It was more than last night though.”

“That’s good. You want some buttermilk? Still got some from yesterday.”

“I’m all right.”

Charlie’s brow creased with worry. “Are you?” she asked. Violet didn’t answer. Gently, Charlie took her hand. “What happened yesterday, sugar? You were…Well, I’ve never seen you such a mess. My heart nearly broke. Why don’t you tell me what’s on your mind?”

Violet wasn’t sure of what to do. On the one hand, she knew that if her mother had heard what she had, it might be more than she could take. On the other…she needed someone. Someone to listen to her, to help carry the weight. Someone, maybe even, to help.

“They think it’s me.” Her voice croaked, but remained steady. “They think I killed him, Charlie.”

“Who thinks that?”

“Everyone. The sheriff. The town. Everyone but you, Mama, and Mary.”

“But what about—?”

“They can’t find her. And if they can’t find her, won’t nobody believe me. If nobody believes me…” Her hand tightened on Charlie’s. “I heard it from Sheriff Anderson himself. He said that with Mr. Munts attacking me, it looks obvious. Can’t say I blame them for thinkin’ that, me lookin’ the way I did. He says that judges don’t take kindly to murderesses. I’ll be…I’ll be hung for it.”

Charlie’s breath stopped short, her fingers to her lips. A long silence hung in the air. After which, Charlie leaned forward, clutching Violet’s hand so tightly that her fingers tingled. “Ain’t nothin’ you can do?” Violet shook her head. “And you’re sure about what you heard?” Violet nodded. Another pause. “Then you gotta run, Miss Violet.”

Violet turned to Charlie, confusion on her face. “Run?” she said.

“Yes,” said Charlie seriously. “Run. Run as fast as you can and you don’t never look back. You pack yourself some warm clothes, some food, some money…Hell, I’ll give you every last penny I got socked away. And you grab Maple and you run for the hills. Don’t tell no one where you’re off to, don’t use your real name. You just keep movin’ till you find yourself a home.”

Violet took a moment to process what Charlie was telling her. It didn’t sound or feel real. “But…but what about you? What about Mama?”

Charlie smiled sweetly. “I’ll tell her everything. And you be sure to write once in a while, you hear me? And one day, this’ll all be over, and we’ll be a family again.”

“Wh…why are you tellin’ me this?”

“Because I’ve lived this.” Charlie tucked a strand of hair behind Violet’s ear. “The whole world against you, no matter what the truth really is…Miss Violet, I am a colored woman from the South. I know when one must run.”

Tears sprung from Violet’s eyes, but for a much more beautiful reason this time. No words could express her gratitude. Reaching out, she fell into Charlie’s arms, holding her as tight as she could. Charlie let her linger for as long as she needed. When they broke apart, Violet wiped her eyes. “Can’t you come with me?” she implored.

But Charlie shook her head. “Someone’s gotta take care of your Mama. And if I need to, I can throw the sheriff off your trail. You just worry about getting somewhere safe.” They hugged once more, and Charlie stood. “Now let’s hop to it. Only a couple hours before sunup. Don’t want nobody seeing you.”

With that, Violet sprung up to her bedroom as quietly as possible, and began to pack. A suitcase would be too bulky, and so she wrapped her clothes in blankets, and knotted them tightly. She changed into her only other pair of breeches, a shirt and thick coat. Rummaging through her drawers, she found her money tin and quickly counted twenty-one dollars and fifty-seven cents. Just before leaving her bedroom, she swiped a journal and the fountain pen next to it from her writing desk. With everything packed into a bundle, Violet raced back down to the kitchen, where Charlie was waiting for her with a sack of food and a small pouch of loose change.

“Here.” She handed both to Violet. “I gave you most of what we got in cans, and the rest of the coffee. I got me about six or seven dollars in that pouch, so don’t you waste it. Take a pot, too.” They both stopped suddenly when they heard footsteps.

“Violet…?” Mrs. Donovan’s voice echoed from upstairs. “Charlie? What in the world…?”

“Come on now. Quickly.” Charlie ushered her out to the stables behind the house. “I’ll explain everything to your Mama. You stay to say goodbye and she might not let you leave.” Working together, they saddled Maple and led her through the fence. Violet’s bundles were stuffed into her saddle bags and latched tightly. Violet was just jumping into her saddle when Mrs. Donovan came running through the kitchen door.

“Violet—”

Charlie pulled back and slapped Maple’s hindquarters as hard as she could. With a sharp neigh and a jolt, Violet went thundering off through their estate. Violet looked back to see Charlie holding her bereft and confused mother tightly by her shoulders. Guilt clouded her heart, but Violet turned back around, and rode Maple into the trees.

By the time she reached the small creek at the edge of the estate, it was nearly sunrise. Maple was slowed to a trot, but she stopped her completely at the water. Violet stared into the thicket. Soon enough, Violet would be farther than she’d ever been before in her life. She wondered, off-hand, if she should turn back around. Surely there should be something her mother could do. A lawyer they could hire…Maple shifted uncomfortably, her ears twitching, as though she knew that something was amiss. Violet leaned down, clutching her thick neck with both arms. “I’m sorry, girl,” she said. “We can’t ever go back. But we’ll have each other. That’s all we’ll need.” Maple gummed at her bridle. With a deep breath, Violet tightened her legs, and Maple cantered softly through the water and into the woods.

The trees swallowed Violet and Maple whole. As they rode deeper and deeper, Violet feared that she was going in circles. Every inch of the woods around them was unfamiliar and daunting. They rode for hours, Violet occasionally feeling that the trees were endless. And with each step, Violet feared the sound of hound dogs coming to sniff her out. Thankfully they never came, but eventually she began to tire. The air had become hotter, and moister by the minute. It made Violet drowsy, her eyes itching to close, even for a bit. Eventually, Violet found a plot of forest that was guarded by thick, mossy tree trunks. A fallen log lay hollowed out by years of rot. Slipping from Maple’s saddle, Violet let her graze freely and sat up against the hallowed log. She watched above her as the sunlight twinkled against the canopy of green. It must have been late afternoon. It was the first time in two days she felt truly calm.

“At least we won’t die in Redrock,” she said. “Will we, Maple?” Maple flicked her tail, munching a small patch of grass by the tree roots. Violet let her head loll against the mossy bark behind her, listening to the sounds around them. Her body limp, she closed her eyes and fell into a gentle slumber.

Chapter 3

“…should be all right now…”

“…not so sure.”

“We’re fine, Linus. Trust me.”

Voices slowly woke Violet from her nap. She was confused at first: her back ached, and her bed had become oddly mossy. It took her only a few seconds to realize that she was not at home, waking up from a horrible dream. It was sunset, she was deep within a forest, and two people were speaking very, very close to where she sat. Out of instinct, Violet crouched down behind her fallen log. Peering over it, she first noticed that Maple had wandered off to graze, and thus remained out of sight. The speaking strangers stood just a few feet to the left of where Violet hid. For the moment, they didn’t notice Violet’s presence.

Facing her way was a black man with thin glasses and a tight-fitting derby cap. He wore suspenders over an old shirt, and at his hips sat two smooth revolver handles. From his breast gleamed a golden chain, attached to a pocket watch. A thin neck tie hung loosely from under his collar. The person he was talking to was facing away from Violet, their long, black hair familiar and striking. When they spoke, Violet had no doubt that she had found her mystery woman.

“They were all too distracted to notice me,” said the woman. Her hat was hanging by its strings around her neck behind her. Beside them both stood two fierce-looking horses, packed tightly with supplies. “I made sure to wait it out nearby at least a day before moving on, just in case they went searching outside of town. Never did though. That girl was scared half to death, so she might say somethin’, but I doubt much’ll come of it.”

“I certainly hope so.” With that, the two slipped onto their horses’ saddles. Violet knew it was best to duck back down, but she found herself enamored. Staring at them terrified and thrilled Violet in a way she hadn’t felt in a long time. Perhaps even in years. A memory came to her in a flash. She knew exactly the last time she felt this way. She was ten years old, sitting in a hot train car, as she watched a dangerous gang drag away a fellow passenger into the dusty plains. She had seen who she now knew as the Railwalker Gang in action. The more Violet stared at the two strangers, the more she recognized everything about them.

They were Railwalkers.

The woman had turned her horse, ready to leave the area, when she paused. A curious expression came to her face. Her head began to shift towards Violet. Heart beating, Violet fell to the ground and laid flat. Sweat beaded along her face and under her arms. She bit down on the inside of her lips, trying to keep her breath silent through her nose. After a moment of silence, the man’s voice—Linus, if Violet heard right—spoke up.

“Mei? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing…I just thought…” Violet heard the step of horse hooves. “Let’s go. They’re waiting for us.”

Their horses thundered away, and Violet chanced a look up from where she hid. She barely saw them take a path through a clearing just ahead. Acting quickly, Violet whistled for Maple, hopped on, and followed. With Maple sprinting nearly fifty yards behind, Violet kept a keen, watchful eye on her targets, making sure to stay far enough not to be heard nor seen. Once or twice, she nearly lost them, but slowed to listen for hooves before starting up again.

When the trees finally cleared, Violet and Maple found themselves at the top of a grassy hill. Far beyond, the two Railwalkers were riding down towards a small camp set up within a field. It was getting dark now, and Violet could see the glimmer of a campfire in the distance. Straining her eyes, she made out at least one other man and two horses. Linus and Mei slowed to a halt and dismounted. Violet did the same. She sat on the dark hill, watching the fire intensely.

“It’s gonna be a cold one,” she told Maple, “but we can’t risk a fire. Gotta make sure they don’t see me.” Maple nicked slightly, nudging her head against Violet, almost in protest. “If I can get her in front of Sheriff Anderson, my name is free and clear. I only hope my luck will keep up.” Violet rummaged through her sack of food and pulled out a chunk of cornbread, slightly squished and wrapped in checkered cloth. Getting comfortable in the grass, Violet ate and watched, steadily fighting sleepiness throughout the night.

Violet wasn’t sure when she fell asleep, but somehow managed to wake up just as the Railwalkers were packing camp. Shivering in the cold, she wrapped herself in her coat and got into Maple’s saddle. Violet followed their trail for three days. Somehow, she remained undetected throughout the trip. She couldn’t imagine what a group of outlaws would do to a girl like her if she was found out. She kept close and steady, though she nearly lost them on the second morning. Following them was a miserable experience in and of itself. The nights were cold and lonely, and Violet was often tempted to gather twigs and kindling to make a fire of her own. The mornings were dreary until the humidity set in. Amid the wet air, the sun beat down on the earth come noon time. Violet resorted, eventually, to using her cornbread cloth as a wrap along her forehead just to keep the light out of her eyes. What she couldn’t cook, she ate cold, which turned her stomach and made her yearn for Charlie’s cooking.

But finally, on the third day, Violet saw what appeared to be the Railwalkers’ destination. Coming up over a hill, Violet watched them enter a large town. It was as big as four or five Redrocks put together. A small ranch lay outside the town’s perimeter, full of cattle and horses of all kinds. From far away, she could barely see the edge of the town, which stretched two or three miles, maybe more. More nervous than ever, she urged Maple forward, and slowly got closer to the front gate.

Violet began to hear sounds; loud and unruly voices, the clatter of horses, shouts and wagon wheels and garish laughter. It was daunting, and stalled Violet a few yards away from entering. Now level with the entrance, she was able to look inside. The streets had wagon wheel tracks carved into the dirt. Glass bottles and tin cans collected alongside some of the buildings. It was barely four in the afternoon, but Violet spotted at least a few drunks already. As a child, she remembered embracing the largeness of Atlanta, but this was different. This was unnerving, unsightly, and perhaps, even dangerous.

“Somethin’ on your mind, miss?” An old prospector whistled through his teeth as he spoke, and made Violet jump a foot off her saddle. She looked down to the crusty old man, who squinted his wrinkly face under a hole-ridden, worn leather hat.

“What town is this?” she asked.

“Why, this town?” the prospector mused. “This here’s Little Rock, miss! Figgerin’ on movin’ here with some husband of yours?”

“What? Oh, ah…No, I don’t have no husband.”

“Really?” The old geezer’s smile widened and he tipped his hat with his thumb. “Well, if you’re ever in the business of lookin’…”

“I should go.” With a swift kick, Maple trotted into the big city of Little Rock. Violet looked around her in awe of the tall buildings and gas street lamps. Mothers beat rugs and sheets outside windows at least four or five stories above ground. Violet had to swerve Maple a once or twice to avoid a cart or another horse. No one seemed to notice nearly colliding with her. Having lived a good ten years in a town where autonomy was nonexistent, feeling this invisible was jarring. No pair of eyes looked at her twice. The only ones that lingered were those of unsavory men, and Violet did her best to ignore them.

Stopping before an inn, Violet tied Maple to the hitching post and looked around. As she lingered in a sea of unfamiliar faces, it dawned on Violet that she had no concrete plan in bringing Mei the Railwalker into custody. She certainly couldn’t demand her criminal follow her back to Redrock nice and quietly. Best case scenario: Mei refused. Worst case scenario…Violet shivered, remembering the ghastly image of Mr. Munts on the floor, bathed in blood.

That’s when Violet spotted a sheriff’s office just down the road from her. Surely if she had the law on her side, she could corner the Railwalkers and justice would be done. Now ignited with new passion, Violet hitched up her riding pants and walked swiftly towards the front door. As she approached, she noticed a deputy lingering on the front porch. Dirt caked his snakeskin boots, his eyes yellow from years of drink. He was currently chewing tobacco, his thumbs hooked into the loops of his suspenders. Violet approached him confidently.

“Pardon me, sir,” she said politely. “Is the sheriff in?”

The scrawny deputy looked up to her, almost in surprise that she had addressed him. He spat out a wad of tobacco, hitting the spittoon at his feet with a perfect “ping!” “Sheriff’s busy, lil’ lady,” he gruffed.

“It’s important,” Violet insisted.

The deputy smiled slightly. What few teeth he had left were rotting to the core. “Is it now?”

A sharp warning shot through Violet. She glanced at the street around her. Surely no man would be so bold as to attack a young woman in broad daylight? But then…Little Rock seemed to be a place where neighbors kept to themselves. Still, she pushed through her uncertainty.

“I…There’s a violent criminal in your town, sir.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. I saw her come in through the front gate.”

“‘Her’?”

“Yes sir.”

“Mm hm. And who is this violent criminal, exactly? Friend of yours?”

“What? No, she—”

“Clyde? You makin’ sweet with the school girls again?” A rounder, much older gentleman stepped outside, a shining sheriff’s badge pinned to his cowskin vest. He had a mustache that covered his entire mouth, and two eyes sunk under baggy lids. He spotted Violet with curiosity. “Who’s this now?”

Clyde the deputy straightened a bit, but kept his smile. “This young lady was tellin’ me about some violent woman criminal who just walked herself into town.”

“Really?” There was a twinkle of amusement in his eye. Violet felt herself floundering. “Well then, if we got some dangerous criminal amongst us, it’s best we know of it. What’s your name, sweet pea?”

“…Don’t tell no one where you’re off to, don’t use your real name…” Charlie’s voice came to mind, and Violet acted quickly.

“C-Clementine.”

“Clementine,” the sheriff repeated pleasantly. “Well, Miss Clementine, where are you from? Clearly you ain’t from around here.”

“Georgia.”

“That right? Coulda had me fooled. You barely sound it.”

“I…travel. Quite a bit.”

“All alone? My my…” The sheriff tipped his hat. “You’re a brave young woman, I’ll give you that much. Tell me now, Miss Clementine. Who’s this woman criminal we ought to be so worried about?”

“Sh…she…She’s a murderess. She killed a man, right in front of me.”

“How’d you survive?” asked Clyde.

“I s’pose I weren’t worth killing. But she done away with him like it was nothing.”

“What’s she look like?” asked the sheriff.

“She’s Chinese, I think. Long, long hair. She’s got this mean hunting knife. Could probably skin a cow with it. About my size…Bit older though, I think. I couldn’t tell.”

“Well.” The sheriff straightened his vest. “Not too many Chinese here since the railroad’s been done. Should be easy to find.”

“There’s more.”

“Yes?”

“This woman, she…” Violet swallowed. “She’s a Railwalker.”

The smiles on the sheriff and deputy both fell. The men looked at one another. “Come again?” Clyde clarified. “You sayin’ this woman—”

“She’s one of the Railwalker Gang. And I think she’s with ‘em here.”

There was a heavy pause in the conversation. Both men exchanged a second look before bursting out in laughter. Hot with embarrassment, Violet stood, her mouth gaping like a fish. Wiping a tear from his eye, the sheriff cleared his throat.

“Whoo!” He chuckled, his big belly bouncing. “Missy, you have got one hell of a sense of humor!”

“What—?”

“The Railwalker Gang ain’t in Little Rock!” Clyde snarked. “Everybody knows they went out further west years ago! Terrorizing some Nevada towns the last I heard.”

“Besides that,” said the sheriff, “there ain’t no females part of the Railwalkers. Goodness gracious, who put you up to this? Old Lou?”

“No!” Violet pleaded with them both, but neither seemed willing to listen. “I’m tellin’ you, you got it wrong—”

“All right now.” The sheriff wrapped an arm around Violet’s shoulders, turning her away. “This little joke’s gone far enough. We’re busy men, miss. Not a lot of time for this foolishness.”

“I ain’t jokin’!” Violet pulled away and rounded back to the pair of them. “You gotta believe me, sheriff! She’s—!”

“Not here, and none of my concern.” The sheriff turned back around and headed inside. “If you need a ticket back to Georgia, Clyde will escort you to the train station.” Clyde wiped his nose with his sleeve, smiling wider now. Violet felt repulsed, and turned away. As she left, she heard the echoes of laughter coming from the station behind her.

Defeated, Violet sat on the deck next to Maple’s hitching post. Head in her hands, she propped her elbows on her knees and stared at the dirt. Will I ever see home again? she thought. Can I? Is it even home anymore…? Surrounded by so many people, Violet never felt more alone in her life.

Squeak. Squeak. Sque-eak. Squeak. Uneven, tin wheels slowly rolled along her deck. At first, Violet almost didn’t notice them, until the cart was directly behind her. Blinking, she looked over her shoulder as the tin cart passed. A pile of furs, tanned and rolled and tied, was tucked into a child’s hand cart. The child in question was pulling it, one handed, further into the town. Though he was turned away, Violet was struck with familiarity at the boy’s striking, red hair. With everything else that happened, young Rory McNab was driven far from her memory. And now, there he was, feet away from her, wheeling a wagon full of furs down the street.

Violet shot up and watched him walk fearlessly towards the trading post at the corner. No one stopped him, or looked questionable. In fact, no one looked at him at all. Violet hesitated, wondering if it was even worth it to follow him. But she was smart enough to put the pieces together. Rory McNab’s presence both here and back in Redrock was no coincidence. Gathering herself, Violet carefully followed Rory as close as she dared. Rory never seemed to notice her. When he arrived at the trading post, Rory wandered in, pulling his wagon behind him. Violet hesitated outside a haberdashery, and pretended to be interested in one of the multi-feathered hats in the window. From the corner of her eye, she could only see faint details of Rory speaking to someone from the front of the counter. Most of it was hidden behind the frame of the open door.

Eventually, Rory left the trading post, his little hand cart completely empty. He wore a satchel on his shoulder, which was now tied closed. Heading back in the direction he came, Violet snapped her gaze back to the window, watching him in its reflection. Once he had passed her, Violet continued to follow his teetering tin wheels.

He walked down the road until reaching the inn where Maple had been hitched. Rory walked around the back of the building and out of sight. Violet ducked into the alley before it, quietly making her way to the far edge of the wall. Hidden from the busy street, Violet saw a massive man waiting as Rory approached him. Violet spotted his native features easily, and judged that he had to have been at least six and a half feet tall. She had no doubt that a man like that could have broken Eustace Carpenter in half with one hand. His black hair was braided to his shoulders beneath an old hat, and among his common, western clothes were bits and articles made of primitive animal skins.

Rory approached him without fear, and handed him the satchel. The Indian opened it up, and pulled out a small wad of crisp notes. Violet had never seen so much money in one place before. It must have been close to a hundred dollars. The native man put the money in his front pocket and nodded at Rory, patting his head. Rory seemed pleased. During the exchange, Violet couldn’t tell if they had said a word to each other.

“Ah, you’re back.” Violet immediately recognized Linus as he walked out of the inn’s back door. Rory grinned at him. “How much did we make?”

“Eighty-two dollars and thirty-three cents!” Rory reported.

“Good boy. Head on inside, Mei ordered you some supper.”

Rory rushed in gleefully, and Linus lingered with the native. Violet strained to hear what was said, but found that she could not. Eventually, the two headed inside, leaving Rory’s hand cart behind. Violet stayed in hiding a few moments longer before sneaking towards the back door. There was a small window near the top, and Violet peered inside. The bar crowd, even in the mid-afternoon, was too thick to see through. Heart thudding, Violet opened the door and stepped inside.

The inn was livelier than any saloon she’d ever been in (which hadn’t been many). A pianist played tinny keys in the corner. Clouds of cigarette smoke wafted listlessly among the gas lamps. A bar tender quietly kept his patrons supplied with pints of beer and shots of whiskey. There were tables all along the floor, occupied by all sorts. One or two had card games, with pots of money and cigarettes, played by sour looking men. A few more had men eating, tired from a hard day’s work. Among the crowd were colorfully dressed women, feathers perched in their curls and lace framing their bosoms. Some sat in men’s laps, some drank alongside them, and one or two led eager men upstairs to the rooms above. Violet could only imagine what for.

That’s when she spotted more secluded tables along the wall opposite the bar. These were booths separated by half wall dividers, ensuring a more private experience. She scanned the booths and spotted the hulking Indian from before, sitting next to Mei and Linus, the three wrapped up in conversation. But the one person she could not find…

“Missus Violet?”

Violet jumped, and turned down to Rory, who was staring up at her. Violet stood, awkwardly, as Rory stared her down in confusion. “Whatchyu doin’ here, Missus?”

Violet fumbled, unsure of what to say to an innocent child; one who apparently shared ties with a notorious, murderous gang of criminals. Violet’s head was spinning. “You remember me?” she finally blurted out.

“Course I do. You was nice to me.” Rory smiled, revealing a missing front tooth. “Thank you for the candy, Missus. I liked it.”

“You’re…welcome…”

“You hungry? We’re gonna eat supper if you want some.”

“Oh, no, thank you—”

“Is he pestering you, ma’am?”

Violet jerked around. Linus the Railwalker stood directly behind her, smiling. Now that they were up close, Violet noticed a kindly twinkle in his eye behind his wire-frames. In a way, she was reminded of Charlie. Linus turned to Rory. “Come now, let’s not bother strangers.”

“But she ain’t no stranger!” Before Violet could say otherwise, Rory continued blissfully: “This is Missus Violet. She was in the last town we was at.” Linus’s sweet expression dropped instantly. Violet, silent in fear, stared at the outlaw. There was calculation in his gaze now. Violet could see him put the pieces together in his head. Would this be her final night alive? Or worse…?

“Why don’t you come eat supper with us, Missus Violet?” Rory continued, unhelpfully.

“N-no, I—”

“Yes.” Linus’s voice was cool, and Violet trembled at the sound of it. “Why don’t you come eat with us? There’s plenty.”

Violet had no response. Her feet were rooted to the spot. That is, until Rory grabbed her hand and began leading her to the table. Linus followed close behind. The Indian man saw her first. Under the lighting of the gas lamp, his features were all the more intimidating. She noticed a few faded scars on his lip, cheeks, and neck. And then, beside him, Mei the Railwalker looked up from her plate with clear recognition in her eye.

It was as though lightning shot through Violet’s body. Her breath caught in her throat, and her head was light and dizzy. All around her, the inn grew dark, as though she was looking through a tunnel. She couldn’t even hear the piano at a point. The murderess was there, staring at her, and Violet was expected to eat. Linus took his seat beside Mei, while Rory took his chair beside the still unnamed Indian man. Violet remained where she was. Mei leaned forward on her elbows casually folding her hands one over the other.

“Hope we didn’t make the trip too hard on you,” said Mei.

“T-trip?” Violet stuttered.

“That was you followin’ us out of Redrock, wasn’t it?”

Violet let out the smallest noise she’d ever made. They knew?!

Mei didn’t seem too bothered. She gestured at an empty chair facing them all. “Sit,” she said. Hands shaking violently, Violet pulled it to the table and sat, stiffly staring at the center of the table. She already noticed a couple of emptied shot glasses and a basket of corn bread. Her stomach growled unhelpfully. Mei seemed to notice and smiled before speaking again. “Take one.” Violet looked up, nearly in tears from fear. “Go on. There’s plenty.” She hesitated, but slowly, Violet took a piece of corn bread and bit into it. Rory had stuffed an entire square into his mouth by the time Violet was half way through with hers.

“I remember you,” Mei continued. She addressed Linus. “This is the child from the other night. Lord only knows what might have happened if I hadn’t been there.”

Linus nodded seriously, and took a piece of cornbread for himself. “Shame we couldn’t do the same for the other one. Poor thing.” Violet, despite her fear, caught his reference and perked up.

“You mean…you mean Mary, don’t you?”

“Is she the little blonde girl?” he asked. Violet nodded, and Linus took another bite. “A pity what happened to her. You a friend of hers?”

“How did you know about her?” Violet pressed.

“The same way we knew about Munts,” Mei answered. “Though truth be told, we didn’t think he’d attack one of his own town. We thought he’d be smarter than that. If we knew that girl was gonna get hurt, we would have been there much sooner.”

By now, Violet’s mind was spinning. She blinked and shook her head, trying to clear it. “Wait…how…If you knew? How’d you know about him? Why did you kill Mr. Munts to begin with?”

Mei cocked an eyebrow. “Why? After what he almost did to you, you gotta ask me why?”

There was a tense silence at the table. Even Rory, who was on his third piece of cornbread, stopped to look at Violet. Hot shame boiled within her, but Violet pushed forward. After all, they could have easily killed her behind the inn. She had gone this far, and there was no turning back. Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes and spoke.

“I know who you are,” she said.

“Do you?”

“Yes.” Violet forced herself to look up, and stared at Mei directly. “We’ve met before, years ago. I was on a train heading from Georgia to the Arkansas territory. And right before my eyes, I saw three strangers board the train and kidnap a man. An Indian, a Negro, and a Chinaman. ‘Cept I noticed somethin’ ‘bout the Chinaman. He spoke that day, and even though I was a child myself, I realized that he weren’t no man at all. It was you. A woman.

“I know who you are,” she repeated. “You’re the Railwalkers.”

The table was so silent, Violet could hear the creaking wood beneath it settle. The rest of the saloon was a distant memory. Mei leaned further in, the single light above their table haloing her dark hair. Danger was laced through her smile. She spoke in a low voice. “I think you’re confused, child.” Mei’s words were deliberate and quiet. “We are simple fur traders, making our way through the new lands of this great country.”

“You just said—!”

“You heard wrong. Forget all I said. Turn around and leave, and we’ll have no reason to find each other again.”

A chill ran over Violet’s skin. Though the deadly intent in Mei’s eyes shook her very bones, Violet could not relent. With what little courage she had left, she spoke again. “I can’t.”

“And why can’t you?” Mei asked.

“Because they think I killed him.”

Mei looked surprised. “Come again?”

“I told the sheriff about you. I told him everything, but they couldn’t find you. I heard Sheriff Andy myself. He figured that I musta been defending myself, but no judge would see it that way. If I hadn’t left town when I did, I’d be on trail this very second, waiting to be hung.”

The Railwalkers looked at one another. Even the stoic native seemed shocked. Mei’s face suddenly twisted in a wave of disgust. “Well…ain’t that just the way? The law can’t be bothered to do any real work, so it’d be easier to just point the finger and bury the whole thing.”

“Can’t say I’m surprised,” Linus chimed in. “If that sheriff was worth a damn, Munts would have been behind bars ages ago.”

“Did they hurt you, Missus?” Rory asked her, his little brow furrowed in seriousness. “Cause if they hurt you, we can take care of ‘em—!”

“Rory,” said Mei, her tone slightly warning.

“Missus Violet didn’t do nothing!” Rory insisted. “It ain’t fair!”

“Things ain’t never fair, Rory.” Linus’s words were gentle, and Rory slumped against his seat. Just then, one of the bar girls approached with a tray of food.

“Here we are.” She set a hot soup pot and a ladle in the middle of the table. Violet smelled the sweet aroma of spices and meat, making her mouth water. The bar girl then put down a stack of empty bowls next to it.

Linus gave her a charming smile. “Much obliged, darlin’. Think we could have a few more shots of whiskey? In fact, bring the bottle.”

Violet noticed a sour expression fighting to break through on the bar girl’s face as she looked at Linus. Clearly, there were things she wanted to say. But when Linus handed her a crisp five dollar bill, she took it gladly. “Yessir,” she said, tucking it into her apron. “Comin’ right up.” As she left, Linus began to scoop and serve the soup. Either he hadn’t noticed the bar girl’s distaste, or he simply didn’t care.

When the soup was divvied out to everyone but Violet, Rory scooted his chair closer to her and pushed his bowl between them. “We can share if you wanna,” he said with a smile. He offered her his spoon. Violet glanced at the others, but they were too busy eating to discourage Rory’s generosity. Part of her wanted to refuse outright, but the smell was too tempting. So, Violet took a spoonful of soup. She melted in satisfaction as the first warm meal in three days settled in her stomach. While Violet used the spoon, Rory used chunks of cornbread. For a few moments, the drama of Violet’s life was forgotten. The soup was pork, with beans and corn and a few other vegetables Violet couldn’t place. When the bottle of whiskey came to the table, Linus, Mei, and the silent man all partook. The pot was empty far too quickly for Violet’s liking.

“Now then.” Mei wiped her mouth with the edge of her sleeve and settled back into her chair. Her eyes landed on Violet, who suddenly regretted her full stomach. “What to do about this, hm? What do you want, ‘Missus Violet’?”

Violet gripped her spoon tightly. “I just want my own life back. You can understand that, can’tchya?”

“But in order for you to have your life back, I must give up mine. Is that where this train of thought leads ya?”

“You’re a criminal.” Violet spoke lowly, and quite fast. As if she feared being cut off by Mei’s big hunting knife at any second. “You killed a man who ain’t done nothin’ to ya. Killed him in cold blood and skipped town so fast that you might as well’ve been a ghost. Of course the town thinks I did it. You don’t go back and turn yourself in, I won’t never get to see my friends and family again. I’m a wanted criminal and I didn’t even do nothin’.”

“Well, that’s one hell of a way to say thank you.”

“Look, it’s not that I ain’t grateful. You…” Her words slowed, and she spoke deliberately. “You saved me. You truly did. And you did right by Mary, I can say that much. But he shouldn’ta died for what he done! He shoulda…If you really wanted to help me and Mary, you shoulda just gone to Sheriff Andy and tell him what Munts did. He would’ve arrested him then and there and he woulda paid in a court of law.”

Mei tapped her chin, almost in a thoughtful manner. “You really think so?”

“Yes, I do.”

Mei chuckled, and poured a little more whiskey into her shot glass. Downing it in one gulp, she set the empty shot back on the table. “Do you know why we knew about your Mr. Munts, girl? It ain’t because of you, or your friend Mary. Your Mr. Munts often traveled between towns. While he was out, he allowed himself to make use of his less wholesome desires.”

“At first he started just payin’ whores,” Linus spoke up. “Over the years, he started gettin’ rough with ‘em. Soon enough, he stopped payin’ em. Just wandered up to empty rooms late at night and had his way. He’d be gone before anyone knew what was what. One girl tried to stop him once. He cut her up real bad.”

Violet’s gut reaction was to not believe such stories, but after what Mr. Munts nearly did to her, it wasn’t hard to picture. “So how’d you know about it?”

“We do jobs,” said Mei simply. “We’ve always done jobs, that’s how we started off. People find us; people who don’t got no one else to turn to. See, these poor girls, they’d gone to the sheriff before. Far more than once. Most Munts ever had to do was pay a fine, but he had his fingers in more than a few pies in almost every town he visited. He’d given loans to barbers, grocers, tradesmen, you name it. If he went to prison, those money wires stopped. So, he did as he pleased. The law wasn’t gonna touch him. And these poor women paid the price for his needs.”

Violet was still a moment. “So they…so they found you? How?”

“Word gets around,” said Linus. “Rumors and facts mix together more often than not. It takes quite a bit of trial and error to find out which is which. But, eventually, they got ahold of us. They told us their story, and we knew we had to do something about it. For the right price, of course.”

Violet ignored the growing pit in her stomach. “And Mary?”

“Mary we found out about later,” said Mei. “I kept close to the town afterwards in case they scouted outward. Hid in plain sight. Turns out, I’d been hiding on your property.”

The memory came like a flash: Mary, serious-faced and dreary, asking Violet if she had been the one to really kill Munts. Had Mei been there the entire day? She thought of every time Munts had shown her kindness, or every time that he had been alone with her, or Mary. Then came the image of faceless, suffering women. Torn clothes, bloodied faces…And the sickening grin of Munts, standing over them as they cried out for help…

“Well?” Mei’s voice pulled her attention back to the present. “Now you know the truth. Munts was a monster, and needed to be stopped. His death avenged those he hurt, and protected who he hadn’t yet. Are you satisfied with that?”

“Satisfied?” Violet repeated. “How can I be? I’m still wanted for a crime you committed!”

“Can’t be helped,” said Mei simply. “I’ve been more than fair, here. I coulda left you with no answers, no closure, and we’d be gone before you know it.”

“So I’m just supposed to risk gettin’ strung up for somethin’ I didn’t do?!” Violet realized how loud she’d been and lowered her voice, lest some wandering ear got word back to Sheriff Anderson. “I can’t go home because of you. You realize that?”

“Do you have money?”

“Some.”

“Then settle here.” Mei poured herself another shot of whiskey. “There’s a boarding house down the road. Find a room, find a husband, go off and raise pigs for the rest of your life. Pretty girl like you should have no trouble getting on.”

“I ain’t no pig farmer.”

“Then what is it you want? You want me to follow you back to Redrock? Fall on my knees and confess my sins so that you can go back to your quiet, boring life? No, ma’am. You could put a gun to my head and I’d still refuse.” She downed her final shot of whiskey. “I think this conversation has lasted long enough. Go on, get.” Violet was struck with her dismissal, and didn’t move immediately. “I said get, girl. Or shall I put aside my charity and escort you out?”

Humiliation rose within her. Whether it was uncertainty or stubbornness, Violet stayed a little longer. She eyed the rest of the table. No one—not even young Rory—spoke up against Mei’s decision. Neck burning, Violet stood, turned tail, and left the way she came.

* * * *

“Your name?”

“Clementine.”

“Your full name, girl.”

Violet shifted where she stood, her small bundle of clothes and valuables in her arms. “Clementine…White.” The house mother behind the desk scribbled something down in the boarding house’s registry. She was a willowy old spinster, and as she checked Violet into her room, Violet never saw her smile. After finishing with Violet’s information, she turned to the wall of keys behind her, plucked one at random, and handed it to Violet.

“Rent is two dollars a week. Breakfast is served between six and seven in the morning. Dinner is at noon, and supper is promptly at six-thirty. If you miss a meal, that’s your business. Showers are out back. You are expected to keep your room neat and well-kept during your stay here. No strange men, or visitors of any kind unless they are your blood relative, and only if they check in with me first. This is not a public house. Am I understood?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Good. Your room is number twelve. Upstairs, last door on your left. Get some sleep.”

Nodding, Violet turned away. The boarding house was nice enough, with carpeted floors and comfortable furniture. A large dining hall sat to the right of the parlor, with a set of stairs near the entry way. The parlor’s hearth remained cold for the time being, but a thick layer of soot suggested it was used liberally during the winter days. Perhaps a life here wouldn’t be so bad.

Violet climbed the stairs and found herself at the mouth of a long hallway. She walked down to the door marked 12 and unlocked it. The room was nearly pitch black, but Violet was able to locate an oil lamp easily. Lighting it, she looked around. It was a simple room, with a plain bed made up next to the window. A washbowl sat on a vanity with a mirror layered with smudge marks and scratches. She set her bundle on an empty chair and sat on the edge of the bed. It creaked loudly beneath her.

Violet knew she should try and sleep, but felt no desire for it. Reaching into her bag, she pulled out her journal and fountain pen. She began to write.

Dear Charlie,

I have found a safe place to live now. I can’t say where, but trust that I am well. I want to know how you are, how Mama is. Someday, maybe you both can find me, and we can be a family again. It’s barely been a week and already I miss home painfully so. Is it home now? Should it ever have been?

I know you cannot write back to me, no matter how badly I wish it. Hug Mama for me. Make sure Mary is eating, and tell her that I’m safe. I pray that I will see you all again before too long. I can’t thank you enough for your kindness. I am tempted to write more, but for now, this shall have to do.

I love you with all my heart,

V.

Violet examined and reexamined the letter. What would happen, she mused, if she sent it off only for it to get into the hands of Sheriff Anderson? Her letter never said where she was, but Violet still worried. She could only imagine the hell her mother put poor Charlie through after sending Violet off into the world. Did she even understand the trouble Violet was in? Or had she taken her anger out on Violet’s beloved friend?

Deciding she couldn’t take the risk just yet, Violet tucked the letter away into her journal and laid on the bed. Around her, she heard the boarding house creak and groan with snoring guests. She eyed the window next to her. The stars were out, and shone brighter than they did back home. Or were they duller? Violet never took the time to really admire the night sky in Redrock. She regretted it.

Sometime in the night, Violet dozed off into the first real sleep she’d had in days. It wasn’t the most restful, but it sufficed. Violet didn’t dream. When she awoke, she heard the cock crow just as the sun was rising. Already feet were shuffling along the hall and down the steps towards the dining room. Violet pulled herself out of bed and found her back to be stiffer than when she slept on the cold, hard ground. She brushed her hair, washed her face, and changed her dress for the day. As normal as these actions were, Violet felt hollow inside. The scene from the night prior played over and over in her mind. She wondered to herself: Should I have stayed? Insisted? Or would that just end up with me dead and gone? She recalled the look in Mei’s eyes. They were the same eyes that watched Mr. Munts bleed dry. Violet shook off the chill in her bones.

Keeping her head low, she walked down to breakfast with the rest of the tenants. One or two nodded her way, but no one spoke to her. The patrons, she realized, comprised mostly of older, dusty men, only visiting the boarding house as respite from their hard lives. Some were prospectors, like the man who greeted Violet the day before, but most, Violet guessed, were cowboys. Besides herself and the old crone who ran the building, there wasn’t a single woman there.

Violet sat at the far end of the table, staring at her empty plate. The house mother passed out trays of food, and the hungry cowboys began to take their shares. Violet herself eventually filled her plate with a pair of biscuits, a spoon full of gravy, grits, an egg, and a slice of ham. She passed up the coffee for a glass of watered-down buttermilk and began to eat. The man next to her—a considerably younger one compared to the rest—glanced her way as the meal started. He was moderately charming, with mussy, brown hair and stubble on his jaw. He nodded politely. “Mornin’,” he said.

“Good mornin’,” Violet replied.

“How’s the food?”

Violet swallowed her egg. “It’s fine.”

The man smiled, leaning back in his chair. “You don’t gotta lie. Old Gretchen ain’t much of a cook.” To prove his point, he speared his piece of ham and held it up, letting it wobble like rubber. “But it beats beans out of a can on a cold night.” He set the ham down. “Name’s Thomas. And yours?”

“Clementine.”

Thomas held up his coffee in a toast. “Pleasure to meet you, Miss Clementine.”

Violet smiled, but only just. Thomas seemed nice. Nicer than Eustace and Mr. Munts, certainly. Part of her felt that she was acting unfairly towards a pleasant face, but Violet was not interested in talking. Even after sleep in a bed and a good meal, she was tired. It would take time to get used to such a new life with new people. That is, if Violet ever got used to it at all.

Clementine White…Was that who she was now? Eating quietly, her mind drifted to what her life would be with that name. She could bleach her hair as bright as Mary’s. Maybe curl it. She would get to know the local grocer, the pastor, the church flock. She would have to tell them all that she was an orphan, on her way to a better life. Perhaps she could find a job teaching, or try to take up sewing to earn money—not that she was ever good at it. Soon enough, Charming Thomas would make frequent calls to her door. Eventually, he would ask for her hand in marriage. They would be married before the week was over, move into an old farm hand’s house, and have a family. And there, Mrs. Clementine Charming would live out the rest of her days in a happy lie.

Violet’s appetite vanished, and she laid her fork down next to her plate. Thomas noticed immediately. “Something wrong, Miss?” he asked.

“I…” She reached for an excuse, but found none to her liking. She stood up. “Pardon me. I’m not…well.” Violet stepped from the table, turned, and went upstairs. She marched back to her room and headed for the window sill. She threw open the window and gasped for fresh air as though she was dying for it. Her forehead rested on the cool glass, still misted over with morning dew. The sun was getting just a bit hotter, and the air was growing wetter.

Violet stared emptily into the street. She watched as the folk of Little Rock began to wake up for the day. Women put out empty milk bottles. Children headed towards the school house. Cattle hands marched to the ranch on the outskirts of town. It took a moment or two for Violet to realize that the saloon she had visited the night before was in clear view of her room. From where she stood, the building was at an angle which allowed Violet to see its right side, front, and part of its back side. She began to notice movement.

Violet immediately recognized the glossy sheen of Mei’s long, black hair. It was braided now, and ran down her back like the spine of an animal. The other three were beside her, readying their horses to leave. She lingered, trying to imagine a different outcome. It proved impossible. Violet couldn’t force Mei to confess her crimes, and she couldn’t convince anyone else of them. This was all excluding the question Violet didn’t dare ask herself: should Mei even be punished? In her gut, Violet’s first reaction was a confident, resounding “yes!” Murder was a crime, and crime must be punished. But as she dwelled on the night of Mr. Munts’ death, and thought of all the crimes he had committed without punishment, her resolve wavered. A tiny, persistent voice steadily looped in the back of her mind: Maybe Mei was justice.

In all her pondering, Violet almost didn’t notice the small band of men making their way towards the boarding house. At first, they seemed like common strangers. But the closer they came, the more Violet began to recognize their features. It was Sheriff Anderson and his deputies. Fear struck her sharply, and she pulled back from the window before she could be seen. Quick as she could, Violet gathered up her things and rushed out of her room and down the steps. The other residents were just finishing up breakfast, and Charming Thomas seemed to want to say something to her. Violet didn’t bother stopping.

As she hurried through the kitchen and out the back, she distinctly heard the sounds of the front oak doors starting to open. Violet went around the building and glanced at the front. A few deputies, all of whom she recognized, were standing around. The disgusting Deputy Clyde was among them. It also just so happened that Maple was hitched right next to the group. Violet cursed her luck. No doubt the sour-faced Gretchen would match her description without trouble, and even direct them to her room. It was only a matter of time before they searched the whole property. If Violet wanted to leave alive, she needed to act.

More than that, she needed allies.

Violet walked swiftly along the backside of the buildings, praying to God that no one noticed her. Her plan was a long shot, and even if it did work, it wouldn’t be easy to live with. Once she was far enough down the road, Violet glanced around and hurried across the street to where the Railwalkers were getting their horses ready.

Rory was the first to notice Violet, and tugged on the nameless Indian’s arm. He in turn nudged Linus, who motioned for Mei to turn around. By the time they were all looking, Violet was a foot away from them. She took a deep breath. “I need your help.” The Railwalkers glanced at one another, skeptically. “Please. I won’t ask you for nothin’ else. Promise.”

Mei looped her thumbs into her front belt loops. “What do you need?”

Violet gestured over to where Maple stood innocently next to the hoard of deputies. “That’s my horse there,” she said. “And those men? They’re looking for me. They’re followin’ a man who’s the sheriff back in Redrock. I know they’re lookin’ for me.”

Mei didn’t respond immediately. “Mhm. And this ain’t no trap, right? If I were to walk on over there, untie your horse and leave, they wouldn’t arrest me on the spot, would they?”

“No!” Violet said quickly. “No, I swear to God, that ain’t it! Look, you get my horse, and I won’t never bother you again. Even trade.”

Mei snorted. “Even? Sounds like I’m up by two where I’m standing.”

“Please,” Violet begged again. “Please just…” Her throat tightened and she turned back. There was now movement among the deputies. Some were starting to fan out. Violet’s heart pounded and she rounded to the Railwalkers in earnest. “Please!”

With a deep sigh, Mei finally agreed. “Stay out of sight.” She pulled her hat tight down to the rim of her brow, hitched up her collar, and headed towards Maple. Violet’s heart was pounding in her ears, and she clutched her bag tightly to her chest. She didn’t notice how tightly until Rory tapped her arm.

“Don’t you worry, Missus,” said Rory. “Mei’ll get your horse for ya no problem.”

“Until then,” Linus butt in, “you best do as she says. Here, this way.” Linus led her around the corner to the back of the building, out of sight from the deputies. Violet was trembling, tempted to look and give away her position. Linus watched her, almost with amusement. “We just can’t seem to get rid of you, can we?”

“Trust me,” said Violet. “Once I get Maple back, y’all won’t see a hair on my head ever again.”

Linus didn’t have a response to that statement. Instead, he folded his arms and leaned against the saloon’s wall. They were quiet for a few moments, with the silent man returning to the task of readying the horses. Violet watched him, finally letting her curiosity get the better of her. She leaned over to Linus.

“Does your Injun talk any?” she asked.

“I speak just fine.” Much to her surprise, the silent man spoke without even turning around. His voice was deep; like distant thunder. Violet was struck with surprise. Linus chuckled.

“Sitting Bear mostly keeps quiet,” Linus explained. “But when he does talk, he’s always got somethin’ to say. Ain’t that right, Bear?”

Sitting Bear had no response, and instead latched up the final saddle bag on the strong-legged, spotted mustang he had been tending. It was then that the sound of hoofbeats caught their attention. Eagerly, Violet turned to receive her horse and be on her way. But Mei, rather than calmly leading Maple on by her reins, was sitting in her saddle.

“I think it’s about time we leave, folks.” Her words were quiet, but urgent. Violet chanced a look around Maple. To her horror, she saw Anderson’s deputies walking in their direction. Before Violet could react, she felt a sharp tug on her upper arm. Mei, with astounding strength, managed to pull Violet into the front of Maple’s saddle. Violet barely had time to settle before Mei sent a swift kick into Maple’s ribs. Maple whinnied in response, and galloped away towards the front gates of the town. All around her, Violet heard shouts, but could not make out the words. The other Railwalkers had managed to catch up with Mei on their own horses, with Mei’s black steed led by Linus’s free hand. Violet craned her neck and looked over Mei’s shoulder.

The deputies were hot on their trail. Almost all of them were already on horseback, and pursued them at barely a hundred yard distance. Violet turned back around and clung to Maple’s mane, feeling the horse’s muscles pulse between her legs. By the time the Railwalkers were out of Little Rock, they had reached full speed.

That’s when the gunfire started.

Violet cried out in surprise at the sound of the first bullet. More quickly followed. Out of instinct, she tucked her head down, shut her eyes, and clung to Maple for dear life. Behind her, she felt Mei start to shift. “Wha—?” Looking back, she saw Mei actually balance herself the balls of her feet. Without a sign of hesitation or fear, Mei leapt to the empty saddle of her own horse, landed easily, and swiped a well-used Winchester rifle from the side strap.

The gunfire from the deputies still echoed behind them. The Railwalkers’ horses, with Maple in the middle, continued at breakneck speed into the plains. Sitting Bear, leading the pack, let out a shrill whistle. The horses continued to run, but now in a tighter formation. With a swing of her leg, Mei sat backwards in her nag’s saddle, Winchester brandished. As the deputies continued to fire, Mei started shooting back. Violet nearly broke her neck trying to watch it all. Her braided hair snapped in the wind like a leather whip. Though her body bounced with every cantor, Mei’s arms seemed to steady themselves. Every shot was calculated and deliberate.

Violet once again looked behind her. The deputies were swerving, trying desperately to avoid Mei’s bullets. After three shots, the fourth hit a deputy square in the chest, sending him rolling off his saddle. The sixth and seventh wounded two others, and the eighth caused a horse to collide into the ground, bringing down three other horses with it.

Sitting Bear gave two sharp whistles. Mei flung herself right-side forward, and she and Linus split off from the group. Mei went right, Linus went left. Violet remained behind Sitting Bear and Rory, who was seated securely in Sitting Bear’s lap. Violet watched Mei and Linus behind her as best she could. The pair of them curved wide around the posse of deputies, who were noticeably confused. Mei continued to rhythmically fire her rifle, while Linus made use of two matching revolvers. Soon enough, the outlaws were circling the deputies, disorienting them and their horses. They continued to fire, with the deputies starting to drop like flies. The lawmen fired back wildly, but it was of little use. Mei and Linus circled like sharks, their horses speedy and sure-footed.

Sitting Bear then suddenly veered left, and Maple, set to follow suit, turned with him. Violet almost fell off with the sudden jerk, but steadied herself and faced forward, grabbing onto the reins. Sitting Bear was taking them over a hillside, blocking Mei and Linus from view. Growing closer on the horizon was a wall of trees. Sitting Bear led them deep within the woods, slowing down only out of caution. Maple followed behind Sitting Bear’s horse single file, minding tree roots and rocks in their path.

Eventually, they slowed to a trot, and finally settled by a small creek bed. Sitting Bear and Rory dismounted immediately, as though nothing was amiss. They began to pull out bedrolls and supplies for camp. Violet, who’s every breath was harsh and painful, stared at the pair of them in a cold sweat.

“H-how are y’all so calm about this?” she asked, trembling. “We was—we was just run out of town! They was tryin’ to kill us!”

Rory smiled, his arms tight around a cooking pot. “T’ain’t the first time, won’t be the last.”

“But what about Mei and Linus?” Violet pried. “You just straight up an’ left ‘em!”

“They will live,” said Sitting Bear.

“How’d you know?”

“They always live.”

Violet huffed, but had no energy to argue. She slipped off Maple’s saddle and sighed heavily, and watched the two of them set up camp. That was when she realized—to her horror—that she had accidentally dropped her entire bag of personal effects back in Little Rock.

“Oh-oh no!” Violet turned sharply, as if by some miracle the bundle had been attached to it somehow. It had not been.

Rory looked up from his bedroll, curious. “What’s wrong, Missus?”

“My…my things…” Violet felt a weight lay heavy on her heart. “I left ‘em all back there…I musta dropped ‘em when Mei grabbed me.” She closed her eyes and laid her head against Maple’s thick neck. “That was all I had left. My food, my clothes, my money…Even my diary.”

“Oh, you mean this?” Violet snapped up. Rory pulled out Violet’s leather book from his inner coat pocket. He handed it to her. “We didn’t have time to grab everythin’, so I figured this would be the most important.”

Violet ran her fingers down the spine. Even in her sorry state, she smiled. “Thank you, Rory. You’re right. This is the most important.” Rory grinned with pride, and then returned to Sitting Bear’s side to help with the camp site. Violet sat herself on a tree stump and stared at her journal. An overwhelming truth came upon her. It felt like a hot knife had dug deep into her ribs.

Violet truly had nothing left.

Chapter 4

It was well after dark before Mei and Linus returned. Sitting Bear and Rory had set up decent camp, with a bonfire and a pot of beans cooking. Rory had even managed to snag a rabbit with a wire trap. Violet watched Sitting Bear skin it with skillful, swift hands, and clean its hide while the meat roasted above the flames. As their supper cooked, Violet remained silent, clutching her book in her lap. She attempted once or twice to write in it, but found her words lacking. Instead, she read and re-read the letter she had written to Charlie. It was easy to explain that she had found safety, perhaps even a new life. What could she write to Charlie now?

Eventually, the food was ready, and Sitting Bear handed Violet a tin plate. He spooned her a helping of beans, and sawed off a few strips of rabbit meat. Despite her hunger, she had no real stomach for food, and picked at it languidly. Violet glanced up at the sky, seeing a half moon shine brightly overhead.

“They’ve been gone awfully long,” she said.

Rory, chewing with his mouth open, shrugged nonchalantly. “They’ll be back, donchyu worry.”

“How do you know?” Violet asked.

“They always come back,” said Sitting Bear.

Violet frowned; that was hardly a reasonable answer. But just as she was starting to ponder the worst, an echo of horse hooves caught her attention. She looked up as Mei and Linus approached, leading a string of horses behind them. Violet’s heart sunk as she realized that they were the horses the lawmen had been riding earlier that day. It further fell when she noticed the piles of clothes, belt straps, and boots piled on each saddle.

“Smells good, Bear,” Linus said, sniffing the air. Sitting Bear began to fill two plates with food. Mei and Linus dismounted their own horses and sat by the fire, plates in hand. Violet, her food mostly untouched, set her own plate aside and stood, marching over to the horses. The Railwalkers watched as she inspected each horse individually.

“Lookin’ for something?” asked Mei pointedly.

Violet checked each and every horse and their accompanying effects. There were a few pairs of boots she recognized, but none were the pair she was looking for. She let out a sigh of relief.

“Thank God,” she muttered.

“God stayed well out of this one,” Mei responded. She ate a heaping spoonful of beans. “You gonna say what you was lookin’ for, girl?”

Violet returned to her spot, stiffly taking her food. She spooned it, but didn’t eat. “I was lookin’ for Sheriff Anderson’s effects. They ain’t here. That means he ain’t dead.”

Mei snorted. “Ain’t that the same sheriff who wants to string you high?” Violet said nothing. Mei scraped the final scraps off her plate. “Don’t sound like much of a loss to me if we had killed him.”

“Sheriff Andy’s a decent man!” Violet defended.

“A decent man who wants to execute you,” Mei reminded her.

Violet bunched up her knees beneath her plate. “And whose fault is that?” A silence fell over the camp as Mei and Violet glared at each other. Mei set her empty plate on the ground.

“You know,” she began carefully, “I’m gettin’ pretty damn tired of this ungrateful tone of yours.”

“Ungrateful?” said Violet. “You killed innocent men—good men!”

“Good men who was tryin’ to kill us! You included! Or did you forget that little detail?”

“Only cause y’all are cold blooded criminals!”

“We don’t kill no one who don’t deserve it!” Mei roared. “That’s more than I can say for your precious lawmen!”

“Lawmen put their lives on the line to protect the innocent from people like you!”

Mei stood to her feet, the fire blazing beneath her. She pointed at Violet through the smoke and embers. “Shows just how much you know, little girl. If you saw even a hint of what ‘good men’ was capable of, you’d be singing a different tune!”

“I ain’t no child!” Violet stood as well. The pair of them now faced off, the fire between them. “And I ain’t no idiot! You can try an’ justify what you do all you want, but in the end, y’all are just murderin’, heartless criminals! You don’t care about nobody but yourself!”

“Boy, ain’t that a laugh! Maybe I shoulda just let Munts have his way with you! At least then you might get some sense knocked into that empty head of yours!”

“You didn’t even know I was there! If you had, you probably woulda stayed in the shadows and let him till it was safe for you to take his life!”

“You don’t know what I woulda done, girl!” Mei’s eyes were wide with anger, her loose braid coming undone around her face. “But if that’s how you think, then you need not waste no more time with us here! Go on, get! You got your precious horse, now get out of my camp!”

Violet went still. The other Railwalkers watched breathlessly. Mei looked mad enough to shoot Violet then and there, but her Winchester remained cold on her shoulder. As much as Violet wanted to turn and walk away, the crushing reality of her current situation stayed her feet. Anger leaving her, Violet sat back down and stared at the fire. Her voice trembled now, her fingers gripping the hem of her skirt.

“I can’t,” she mumbled.

“And why not?” Mei demanded.

Rory, timidly, spoke up. “She dropped everythin’ back in Little Rock,” he said.

“I don’t got a penny to my name,” admitted Violet. “I don’t got food nor clothes, neither. I don’t know where the closest town is, and I got nothin’ to hunt or protect myself with.” She hugged her knees, her head nestling between her arms. “I’ll die on my own.”

The only sound for a while was the crackling of the fire. Off in the distance, Violet picked up the sounds of crickets and other animals. She listened carefully for Mei’s retaliation, but it never came. Instead, she heard a shuffling. When Violet looked up, she saw Mei going through some of the lawmen’s personal effects. Eventually, she found what she was looking for: a clip of bills and a small pistol. She marched over to Violet and threw them at her feet.

“Problem solved,” she said coldly. Violet stared at the two items. “There’s at least ten dollars there. Enough to get you started.”

But Violet recoiled and stared up at Mei. “I ain’t takin’ no dead man’s money.”

“Christ!” Mei threw her hands up in the air. “What does it take to please you!? You don’t got no money, you don’t got no gun! Well, there you are!” She gestured at Violet’s feet. “Hell, I’ll even draw you up a map if you want it!”

“Why do you even care?” Violet shot back. “If I’m so much trouble for y’all, why even keep me alive!?”

“You want us to shoot you?” Mei snapped. “Cause at this point, it probably won’t be that hard!” Fear hit Violet’s face. She held her knees tighter, her body tense and rigid. Mei suddenly softened at Violet’s fear, and physically took a step back. She sighed deeply, one hand on her hip, the other pinching her nose. “I ain’t gonna shoot you,” she said quietly. “Don’t look at me like that.”

Violet relaxed, and turned back to look at the gun and money at her feet. She knew that to take what she’d been given would be the best thing for her. But the weight of Sheriff Anderson’s lost deputies kept her from reaching out. Who’s money was this? Frank’s? Herbert’s? Will’s? Did Mrs. Samson expect Bobby home tonight? Would little Suzie miss her daddy? The thoughts brought tears to her eyes and she looked away, laying her head on the tops of her knees.

“Well now…” Linus’s voice was calm, and a welcomed change of pace from the explosive evening. “That was plenty of excitement for one day. Miss Violet.” She looked up. “Why don’t you eat what’s left of your supper? You’ll be needing your strength.”

“What for?”

“We’ve got a long ride ahead of us,” he said. “The next town over is a good hundred miles at least. And that’s if we take to main roads, which ain’t exactly wise for us.”

Violet furrowed her brow in confusion. “The next town?”

Mei sat herself back down, removing the gun from her shoulder. “We ain’t just gonna leave you,” she said, keeping her eyes averted. “Linus and I discussed it on the way back. We’ll escort you to the next town to make sure you make it in one piece.”

Violet stared at the fire guiltily. Even after all that…“Thank you,” she said. “That’s mighty white of you.”

“Hardly,” smiled Linus, his dark eyes twinkling.

Mei grunted and laid flat on the ground. “I’m gettin’ some shut eye,” she grumbled. “You should, too.” With that, Mei rolled away from the fire and went silent. Violet once more stared at the money and gun. Picking them up, she reached over and put them in Linus’s hands. Linus took them without a word.

* * * *

“Miss Violet…Miss Viiiii-olet…”

Violet blinked awake. She shivered at the morning air, her spine creaky with the aches of sleeping on hard dirt. Rory was the first face she saw as he gently rocked her shoulders. He smiled in the dim light. “We’re packin’ up, Miss Violet.”

Violet looked around. The sun hadn’t even come up. “So early?” she asked.

“Best we get a move on before sunup,” said Linus, who was already up and packing things away. “It won’t be long till your Sheriff Anderson sends more men after us.” Violet sat up and plucked a twig from her hair. Through her tangled mess, she stared at Mei’s hair, which was brushed and braided and ready for the day. Violet paused momentarily to ponder how she kept it so well.

“Here.” Mei, as though aware of Violet’s thoughts, turned and tossed two things towards her. Violet barely managed to swipe them from the air. “Smells like rain today,” she said. “You best wear this before you catch fever.” Violet looked at her lap. One was a man’s coat that she didn’t recognize, and the other was an ivory, hand carved brush. She held it up, observing the detail. The brush was old; probably older than Violet could guess. The handle was shaped to resemble a long, curling creature with detailed scales, worn down over years of being handled. It reminded Violet of a rattlesnake, except that it had four clawed hands, and a long, thin mustache. “We ain’t got all day,” Mei snapped, latching the last satchel to her saddle. “Get dressed, brush up, and get ready.” Her tone still seemed sour from the night before.

Violet quickly slipped the coat on and buttoned it up (this time without complaint of where it came from) and ran the brush through her hair. It was harsh and rough, but Violet didn’t wince. Instead, she forced it through as quickly as possible, and then handed it back to Mei. Her eyes lingered on the strange creature on the handle until Mei packed it out of sight.

Finally, the five were saddled up and set out. With the thickness of the forest, they had to ride single file. Mei took up the lead, with Sitting Bear and Rory behind her. Violet followed, while Linus brought up the rear. From his horse’s saddle, the other horses were hitched up and followed dutifully. They rode at a steady, quiet pace. Above them, Violet watched the gray morning light turn brighter. The dour clouds never parted, however, and Violet could soon smell rain on the horizon.

After about an hour or two, Violet’s stomach grumbled. She was quick to remember that they hadn’t eaten anything before departing. Violet turned around to Linus, who hummed quietly to himself. “We gonna stop to eat soon?” she asked.

“Probably not till mid-day,” said Linus. “In times like these, it’s best to make tracks quick like until we put some distance between us and them.”

Violet nodded, though her insides still churned at the thought of Sheriff Anderson’s lawmen. Her eyes wandered to the extra horses. “Whatchya gonna do with them?” she asked.

“There’s an outpost not too far from here,” he said. “Not the most savory people, but we’ve done business with ‘em before. We’ll sell ‘em off and trade anything else we don’t need for supplies. We’d been hoping to restock at Little Rock but…” His smile widened. “Well. We all know how that went.”

Violet turned away, her head low. Rory, having overheard the conversation, poked his head out from around Sitting Bear’s giant chest. He smiled widely. “Don’t feel too bad now, Miss Violet!” he beamed. “T’ain’t the first time we been run outta town before!”

“And it won’t be the last,” Linus finished.

Violet smiled, but barely. “How long till we get to the outpost?” she asked, desperate to change the subject.

“Three days,” said Linus. “Accounting for the weather, of course.”

Violet looked upwards. Through the canopy of trees, she could see gray clouds roll in overhead. A brisk wind caught her hair, and she clutched her arms, shivering slightly. “We gonna ride through the rain?”

“Depends. If it gets bad enough, we’ll find shelter or wait it out.”

A few hours down the road, they finally broke the tree line, and made their way down a path and into a slim, craggy canyon. The walls were barely ten feet tall on either side, but the loose rubble was enough to make Violet jittery. They had barely gone in a few yards when a distant rumble caught their attention. Soon enough, rain poured down like sheets, drenching them to their bone. Violet clung to her jacket, secretly wishing she had requested a hat as well. As the winds picked up and the rain storm howled, it was clear there would be no riding any further. Thankfully, around the bend of the canyon, was a small cave, just big enough for their haphazard caravan.

They dismounted and made their way inside. Upon further inspection, the cave was barely a cave at all, but a large, smooth rock, embedded deep within the canyon wall at a steep angle upwards. The highest point might have been six feet, so only Rory wasn’t required to bend over dramatically to reach the dryer sections. The top lip jutted out enough to keep the horses relatively dry, their flapping tails excluded. There was a small bundle of kindle and brush near the back of the cave; enough for a light, but hardly for a cooking fire. As they sat around their tiny ball of heat, they ate a sack full of (now soggy) hard biscuits.

Hours passed, and the storm refused to let up. Linus peered between the horses, frowning at the drab weather. “This keeps up, we’re gonna have to make double time to make the outpost by week’s end.”

“Don’t bother me,” said Mei, tossing her sopping wet coat to the side. “We’ll start as soon as the rain lets up. Till then, it’s best y’all get some shuteye.”

“Agreed,” said Sitting Bear.

“But I ain’t tired!” Rory yawned widely.

Linus chuckled and laid flat along the dirt. “Sure you ain’t, boy. C’mon.” Rory clambered over to Linus’s side and plopped under his arm; like a cat on a summer’s afternoon.

Violet looked between them, curiously. “But didn’t we just take off this mornin’?” she asked. “It’s probably barely noon now.”

“Better to save our energy when we can,” said Mei. “We don’t always get a good night’s sleep, livin’ how we do. Sometimes we gotta compensate.”

“We probably ain’t gettin’ a lick a sleep tonight,” said Linus. He propped his head on his hand, his derby tilted forward. “At least try and rest yourself till then. You’ll thank us.” With that, the camp went silent.

Sitting Bear, Linus, and Rory were all asleep within the hour. Linus and Rory were snuggled up and snoring peacefully, while Sitting Bear seemed to, in fact, sleep sitting up. Violet watched in slight awe, and wondered if that was how he got his name. Mei, on the other hand, remained wide awake. She kept an eye outside their cave, as if fascinated by the rain itself. Violet, seated on the far wall opposite her, felt her eyes linger on Mei’s profile. Their pitiful little fire had since gone out, and all that was left was the dull, washed out light of the rainy day.

Mei said nothing during this time. She moved very little. The most she did move was to brush her long, beautiful hair. Truly looking at her, it was Mei’s most feminine feature. Violet kept her eyes averted as she did so, as though something told her that such an act was private and intimate. She caught glances of the strange, ivory brush, once again pondering the creature on the handle. She didn’t dare ask what it was.

As Violet stared off into the distance, she vaguely wished that she had a pocket watch, though it might make all the waiting even more painful. With the pounding rain outside, it was nearly impossible to pinpoint where the sun was. But, if Violet had to guess at that moment, she’d say it would be nearly set by now. Violet heard a distinct rustling and turned back to Mei. She had pulled a silver case from the inner breast pocket of her coat. Snapping it open, she revealed a small row of pre-rolled cigarettes. Mei put one in between her lips, and fished out a box of matches. She removed one, and was just ready to strike the head, when she noticed Violet staring.

“What?” she asked, cigarette bobbing.

“Well…I ain’t never seen a woman smoke a cigarette before.”

Mei blinked. “You’re joshin’ me.”

Violet shook her head. “Most folks that smoked cigarettes were farmhands back home. Rest of the men smoked pipes. Matter of fact…I don’t think I’ve ever seen a woman smoke anything.”

Finally, Mei struck her match, lit her cigarette, and tossed the used stick into the rain. She smiled. “That right?” She pinched it with her forefingers and thumb and inhaled. The cherry grew bright red, the paper burning delicately. Mei removed the cigarette and blew a soft, hypnotizing stream of smoke through her lips. “First time for everything, I suppose.” Smoke was still leaving her mouth and nose as she spoke.

“I suppose,” Violet agreed. She watched, utterly fascinated by Mei’s trivial leisure activity. Mei noticed her attention, took another inhale, and then held it out towards Violet. Violet was startled by the offer.

“Care to try?” Mei asked.

“Oh…oh, no, I shouldn’t…”

“Why?” Mei smirked. “Cause women don’t smoke?”

Something about the tease jabbed at Violet’s senses. She debated with herself a few moments more before standing up and crossing the cave to Mei’s side. Her wet dress was heavy against her body, and sent chills up her skin. She plopped beside Mei and held out her hand, expectantly. Mei put it between her fingers, closing them on the paper.

“Now,” she instructed, “inhale slowly. Don’t wanna take in too much at once. Go on.”

Violet stared at the cigarette with a strange surge of excitement. Odd how her life of late had put her in so many dangerous positions, and yet this was what made her feel rushed. Perhaps that wasn’t quite right; she did not feel the terror she felt when first approaching the Railwalkers, nor the dread upon hearing her fate through the sheriff’s window. This was a pleasant rush, both welcomed and alien to her state of mind. After hesitating for so long, Violet finally put the cigarette to her lips. She inhaled—perhaps too sharply—and immediately began to cough. Mei laughed, taking it back. A wretched taste filled her mouth, and she wiped her tongue to try and remove it. “Lord—!” She heaved, waving the smoke away from her. “How can you like somethin’ so foul?!”

Mei took a deep inhale and blew out a sharp stream of smoke. “It’s an acquired taste.”

“It’s poison.”

Mei’s smile grew wider. She tilted her head back, letting it rest on the rock behind her, and closed her eyes. “You’re no better than some wide-eyed school girl, you know that?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Violet demanded.

Mei turned to her. “It means,” she said through her smoke, “that you ain’t never been where you ain’t supposed to be. You ain’t never done what you ain’t s’posed to do. You spent your whole life watchin’ the world pass you by through your little school house window, isn’t that right?”

Violet grew hot. “That ain’t true—!” she began.

“Oh no?” Mei lifted her head. “You might push out your chest and stomp your foot, but I know your type. Little girls who grow up to be little brides for little boys. Nothin’ but pretty dresses and curlers in your hair.”

“You shut your damn mouth!” Violet was up in an instant, and her shouting roused the others. Mei remained where she was, watching Violet curiously. “You don’t know nothin’ about me, so don’t pretend like you got me figured out!”

“Where’d I go wrong?” Mei goaded.

“You think I like this!?” Violet suddenly grabbed the hem of her skirt and held it up in a fistful. “I wasn’t never let loose like I wanted, not ever! I used to cry when Mama forced me into these dresses, like I was some kinda doll! I watched boys wrestle in the mud in the summer time, but Lord forbid I go outside in my new boots! I used to wish with all my might that they’d all just stop givin’ a damn! But I had expectations, I had obligations. I had a family name I gotta uphold, I gotta…I can’t be some unwed spinster by the time I’m thirty. It just ain’t…proper…”

Mei finished the final dregs of her cigarette and snubbed it in the dirt. Standing, she approached one of the extra horses and began to rifle through the saddle bags. When she found what she was looking for, she turned to Violet and held out a pile of clothes. “You’re hardly proper these days, are ya?” Violet took a slight step back, staring at the men’s clothing. Her fingers twitched as she remembered the ease of her riding trousers back home. There was no one to impress out here. No mother nagging her, no Eustace nipping at her heels. Her dress in its current state was practically ruined with mud. It would, therefore, only be logical…

“Rain’s stopped.”

The voice of Sitting Bear made Violet jump. She had nearly forgotten the others were there. She looked out the mouth of the cave and saw that the storm had been quiet for a good ten minutes now. Violet turned away as the rest prepared for their journey that night.

The canyon was slick after the rain, and so the horses walked slowly along the rocks. The last thing they needed was a horse with a twisted ankle. The cloudy sky grew darker, and the air was chillier. With no clear moon to guide them, it was nearly impossible to see a trail until finally, Mei lit an oil lantern to light their path. Even so, Violet had to rely on Maple’s instincts to lead them.

As the night waned, Violet could not decide what was worse: the cold or the fatigue. For a while, the former kept her awake, but as the clouds cleared and the moon sank lower, Violet’s head was heavy, and her eyes itched to close. She let them rest on occasion, but was too afraid of falling to let herself sleep. The others kept themselves awake with light chats and the like. Linus, at one point, even pulled out a harmonica to fiddle with. The breathy notes of his mouth pipe were enough to keep her awake for at least an hour or two more. However, just when Violet felt prepared to succumb to her tire, Linus rode up beside her and garnered her attention.

“Having trouble staying up?” he asked, slightly teasing. A lamp hung on his saddle between them, giving Linus an orange glow to his gentle features.

Violet rubbed her eyes. “Ain’t never stayed up this long,” she mumbled.

Linus nodded solemnly. “You shoulda gotten some sleep with the rest of us.”

“I wasn’t tired then.”

“I see.” Linus shifted in his saddle. “Well, hows about we keep you awake? What do you wanna talk about?” Violet’s eyes, for a half second, lingered on Mei’s dark silhouette up ahead. She lowered her eyes quickly and shrugged. “All right,” said Linus. “Then we’ll play a little game.”

“A game?”

“Yes’um. The question game. You ask me a question, I ask you a question. And you gotta answer it honestly. I’ll do the same. Sound fun?”

“I guess.”

“You get the first question then, Miss Violet.”

“Mmmmm…” A million questions that had been lingering for the past week suddenly fled her tired brain. She stared out into the clear heavens, blank. Finally, one came. “Where’re you from?”

“Lawrence, Alabama,” Linus answered.

“So far away? When’d you leave?”

Linus grinned. “I believe it’s my question next.” Violet pouted, but didn’t protest. “How old are you?”

“Turned twenty last fall,” said Violet, a little proudly. “It was a big to-do. We invited the whole damn town; they barely fit in our house!” The memory of Violet’s birthday left her with a warm sensation in her stomach. She remembered the sweet apple cider and the delicious cake Charlie baked for the occasion. She remembered dancing till her feet were sore, and singing until her throat ached. Her smile began to fall. It had been such a lovely birthday…would she ever have another like it? Would she ever see her warm, happy home, or taste Charlie’s excellent cooking? Would she ever be that happy again…?

“It’s your turn, Violet.”

She jumped at Linus’s voice. Clearing her throat, she pushed away those happy memories and bundled up tighter in her coat. “How old were you when you left home?”

“Thirteen,” said Linus. “Why did you choose to follow us?”

“That just ain’t fair,” Violet snapped. “Thirteen? No explanation, no reason why?”

Linus shrugged. “Sounds like you need better questions. Speaking of…”

Violet huffed. “You know why I followed y’all.”

“You can’t honestly expect me to believe that you thought you could get us to turn ourselves in,” said Linus. “How on God’s green earth did you think that was going to happen?”

Flushed, Violet straightened her back. “It ain’t your turn,” she reminded him. Linus chuckled, but nodded in defeat. Violet turned. “When you did leave…” She took a second to think her next words through. “When you did leave, what were you hopin’ to do?”

Linus took his time with that question. He laced his fingers through his horse’s mane. His horse, Violet had noticed earlier, was a beautiful gray nag, with white spots on its flanks and matching white hair. “Well now, I reckon that’s one hell of a complicated question.”

Violet perked up. “We got time, don’t we?”

Linus nodded. “That we do. A’ight. I left to try and find a better life for myself. I didn’t know what I’d be doin’ or how I’d be doin’ it. All I knew was that opportunity lay west. The war was over, and folks was making the trail out to the western territories in boatloads. Figured I’d try my luck, what little there was. I knew it was goin’ to be hard for me, being a colored boy and all. No white man in a hundred miles of home would hire me for any proper wage. Who knew how these west men acted? But with my mother stuck on her old master’s plantation, stayin’ home weren’t no option.”

“Wait.” Violet frowned in confusion. “Why would your mama be stuck on her old master’s farm? The Union won.”

Linus scoffed with a cynical expression. “Did it?”

“Yes, it did,” Violet insisted. “The North subdued the rebels and the slaves were freed. Every last one of ‘em.”

“Oh child.” Linus shook his head. “The slaves were never freed. Not one.”

“That’s just not true!” Violet didn’t understand why she suddenly became so passionate, but her words took on a life of their own. She leaned over in earnest. “My daddy fought for the Union before settlin’ down in Georgia. He fought next to colored boys like you! He fought for your freedom!”

By now, Violet’s voice had the others turning to stare, and the small caravan paused. There was something strange in Linus’s face. Violet could detect hints of anger, restrained though it was. Mostly, however, Linus looked sad. For a man who had smiled nearly every moment Violet knew him, to see him with a sorrowful expression was ill fitting, to say the least. It gave Violet a horrible ache in her chest. When Linus spoke again, he did so quietly, with precise words.

“What do you think happened to them slaves that were declared ‘free,’ girl?” There was a pause, but Violet didn’t speak. Linus continued. “Some were run down and hung. Nothin’ changed there. Others left with nothin’ but the clothes on their back, and would most assuredly die in their travels. And the rest? The rest that stayed tried to make a life for themselves and their family. And so, the masters hired them. Paid them mere scraps of what their labor was truly worth. If they complained? Fired. If they fainted? Fired. Slaves’ quarters converted to rented properties, where tenants now paid to sleep within the walls of their former prisons. And if what little they made could not produce rent? They were thrown out into the cold to starve and suffer. Now…You tell me, Miss Violet, if you would truly call that freedom.” Violet remained where she was, at a loss for words. Linus’s sad expression only grew. He edged his mare forward, and the troop began again.

They played no more games after that.

* * * *

The morning before they arrived at the outpost, Violet woke from a restless night sleep. She had taken to curling up in her new wool coat, and sleeping separate from the rest. Conversation had been slim for the past three days. The Railwalkers were not openly cruel to Violet, certainly. She was fed and kept safe and given a place to sleep. But their first day of travel seemed to weigh their impression of Violet heavily. Violet told herself that she shouldn’t be bothered, but with each new morning, there was a pit in her gut at the thought that her last and only allies did not like her.

Violet was up before the sun, and sat quietly next to the charred remains of their campfire. There was still small spirals of smoke wafting up into the gray, morning sky. A chill hit her back, and she tightened the coat around her shoulders. She imagined what this outpost would be like. Perhaps they should simply part ways there? At the rate they’d been going, she doubted if they’d put up with her much longer. Maybe she could find someone new to guide her to the next town over, so that she could start her life over and put this whole mess behind her.

That thought only made her feel worse.

There was a stirring on the other side of the campfire. Rory, snuggled next to Sitting Bear’s large body, began to wake. He sat upright, his hair wild and messy from the evening’s sleep. He yawned widely, rubbing his eye with his knuckle. Violet hesitated.

“Good morning, Rory,” she said carefully.

“Mornin’,” Rory replied. “I’m hungry.”

Violet looked around. “Well…Looks like they ain’t ready to get up yet. But um…well, I think I saw some berry bushes a few yards back. I can take you to ‘em till they wake up.”

Rory seemed keen on the idea, and he and Violet left the camp in silence. The berries were down the hill from their campsite, and spread over a flat, grassy area of land. Among the green grass and springs of leaves were petite, perfect white flowers. Violet smiled.

“Strawberries,” she said, kneeling down to inspect a cluster. She turned a few vines up, and spotted a tiny clump of bright, beautiful red berries. Violet plucked one delicately and ate it. “Nice and ripe. Here.” She handed one to Rory, who ate it with a grin. They began to pick.

“We would get strawberries all over our land back home,” Violet continued, filling her dress pockets. “It’s about that time, too. Best time for ‘em. Let’s see…” She looked up into the sky. “It’s…March? April?”

“March I fink,” said Rory.

“Right.” Violet nodded and continued to pick. “Perfect time for strawberries. Though summer, that’s when you get the good berries. Down by the river in Redrock, there’s all sorts of blackberry bushes. You’d get cut up somethin’ wicked if you ain’t careful, but I swear, these were the sweetest things you ever did taste. When I was little, I’d pick ‘em by the basket full and rush ‘em home. Charlie would throw ‘em in a jar and use up just about half our sugar to make jam.”

“Who’s Charlie?” Rory asked.

“A friend of mine…” Violet’s fingers slowed to a stop as she stared into the white flowers. “A dear, dear friend. I miss her.”

Having filled his pockets full of strawberries, Rory picked a handful of white buds and sat next to Violet. “Does she miss you too?”

Violet smiled sadly. “I’m sure she does. And my poor Mama…I can just see her, sitting at home, fraught with worry. I do hope Charlie keeps her right. I wish I could have said goodbye…”

Rory fiddled with his flowers thoughtfully. “You runned away ‘cause they woulda hung you if you stayed, huh?”

A knot formed in Violet’s throat. She tried to swallow it in vain. “Yes,” she said. They sat together in silence. On the horizon, tiny rays of sun graced the sea of green with a golden frost. Violet let the warmth settle on her face as she closed her eyes.

“Miss Violet?” Rory caught her attention and she looked down. He stared at her, his eyes rimmed with the kind of honesty only found on the faces of little children. “We won’t let nothin’ bad happen to you. So you don’t have to be scared, all right?”

As the sun washed over them both, Violet felt that pit in her stomach ease just a touch. She smiled with a tender nod. “I believe you,” she said. They lingered in silence a moment longer. “Rory? How’d you find the Railwalkers anyway?”

“Oh, I was asleep in a train car when I was found.” Rory stood and started eating his berries, meandering through the field mindlessly. “Though I can’t remember much. I was little.”

“How little?”

“Mmmm.” Rory swayed on his feet, his lips now stained with red juice. “‘Unno…Four? I fink? Yeah, four.”

“You was sleepin’ on a train car when you were four?” Violet couldn’t help her horror. “Where was your parents? Your family?”

Rory shrugged. “Mei says I don’t got any. That’s all right though. Mei’s my family. And Linus and Bear. They take real good care o’ me.” He rounded to her and smiled. Tiny pips and bits of red berry were stuck in his big teeth. “They can take care o’ you, too, y’know. I always wanted a sister.”

“Oh, no.” Violet shook her head. “I can’t stay with y’all. You’re takin’ me to the next town we come across and then…” Her voice died off as Rory’s smile faded. There was heartbreak on his face. Violet stood quickly and took his sticky hand. “Never mind that. How’s about we head back to camp? I think they might start breakfast soon. And we can give ‘em some of the berries we found.”

Rory’s mood improved, and the two walked hand in hand back to camp. All the while, Violet kept silent, stuck in her thoughts. They arrived to find the Railwalkers awake and starting to cook. Rory bounded forward, lifting up two great handfuls of tiny strawberries. “Look look!” he sang.

Mei and Linus both craned over to see the berries. Linus put on his usual smile. “Well now.” He took one from Rory’s hand and popped it in his mouth. “Mm. These are nice! Where’d you find these?”

“Miss Violet spotted ‘em yesterday.” Violet stood awkwardly as the others barely passed her a glance. “She was tellin’ me how she used to make jam back home. Can we try that?”

Mei took a berry herself, examining it. “Maybe,” she said. “Why not? Jam keeps pretty well in the winter.” Rory beamed. “Go and find a can to put all these in.” Rory scampered off towards the pile of supplies and began searching. Violet stayed still and silent where she was. She cleared her throat. She remained ignored.

“Good mornin’,” she said nervously. Linus was the only one who mumbled “morning” in response. Mei, lounging against a rock, was too busy picking her nails with a small switchblade. Violet took a deep breath. “I’m sorry.” Movement in the camp slowed to a halt. All eyes turned to her. Violet stared at the ashes at her feet.

“I…I know I’ve been seemin’ ungrateful. Truth is…y’all have shown me a kindness I did not think I would see again. I don’t mean to shout and stomp. I just…I’m frightened. I truly am. I’m so alone and I…” Her voice wobbled. The Railwalkers waited until she found it again. “I’d be dead or caught if it weren’t for your generosity. Owed or not.” She dared to look up from where she’d been staring. Mei and Linus were silently passing glances, while Sitting Bear watched her from where the horses grazed. Finally, with the chivalry back in his voice, Linus spoke.

“Oh child.” He straightened up, his eyes glittering. “We know this can’t be easy. No need to apologize for that.”

Violet smiled, just slightly. “No,” she said. “It ain’t. It’s just about the hardest thing I’ve ever done.”

Mei set her knife aside. “Well, take comfort in that we’ve all been there, girl. We know the fear.”

“Fear?” Violet almost laughed. “God above, I didn’t think a woman like you was afraid of anything.”

Mei chuckled. “You would be surprised.” She stood, dusting off her trousers. “For what it’s worth,” she continued, “I know it ain’t fair to pull you in on all this. It wasn’t never my intent.”

“I know.” Violet’s expression fell. “Though I cannot condone the death of anyone. Ever. No matter the circumstance.” She paused. “Still…I believe I truly do owe you my life.”

“More than once,” Mei grinned. She spun her switchblade between her fingers and flicked it closed. Violet wondered, vaguely, how many she had. Mei turned her attention to the rising sun. “We should make the outpost by mid-day. Good thing, too. This is about the last bit of food we got left.”

Violet looked into Linus’s cast iron pot. A mess of colorless, bland porridge bubbled over the fire. Even considering the scraps they’d been eating for the past few days, it was nothing pretty. Violet turned to Mei.

“Think I can borrow that knife?” she asked.

Mei hesitated suspiciously before handing Violet her tiny switchblade. Violet, without a word, found a small bowl and sat on a rock next to the fire. Humming to herself, she began to cut up the strawberries one by one. “I figger we can add a little flavor to breakfast,” she explained. The idea went over well, and by the time they were back on their horses, their stomachs were full with sweet, warm berries for the rest of their morning.

The ride was far more pleasant than it had been previously. The air, it seemed, was clearer than before. The rolling hills flattened out the further they went, until they had a wide, open prairie to themselves. Taking advantage of the space, Violet let Maple stretch her legs a bit, riding circles around the others. When Maple grew tired of galloping, Violet settled her near the middle of the troop, just a few feet shy of where Mei was riding. Mei, Violet noticed, had been watching the pair carefully.

“That’s a good horse you got there,” she said. “Raise her yourself?”

“Yup,” Violet responded. She pat Maple’s mane gently. “We had more horses when I was littler livin’ in Georgia, but I had about three or four back in Redrock. Maple here, though, she’s been mine since the day she was born.”

Mei nodded, her own black steed having yet to break its smooth, steady pace. “You must love her.”

“I do,” said Violet. She looked at Mei’s horse. “What about yours?”

“Oh, him?” A tiny smile touched Mei’s lips. “Found him wanderin’ outside of a small town in Kentucky. He was young then, and fiercely wild. I guess we got that in common, me and him.”

“What’s his name?”

“Huī.”

“Huu…huuwaaay? Is that Chinese?”

Mei chuckled. “It is,” she said. “It means brightness.”

Violet stared at Huī with a slight frown. “Not to point nothin’ out,” she said, “but he’s about the least bright thing here. I bet I’d lose him in the dark if he were mine.”

Mei’s smile widened. “Then it’s a good thing he ain’t yours, ain’t it?”

“I guess.” By now, Violet and Mei were riding side by side. Violet realized just how much bigger Huī was than Maple. His legs were thicker, and his hooves were at least twice as wide. At the end of each leg was a tuft of shaggy hair, matching the wild, untamed tail behind him. “Kentucky…Is that where you’re from?”

“Me? No. I was born out west. Far, far west.”

“China?”

Mei snorted. “That’s east, girl. I meant here, west of the Mississippi.”

“Really?” Violet piqued with interest. “I never met anyone who was born out in the west. Where abouts?”

“Nevada, though not sure where. My family moved around a bit, so it’s hard to say.”

“Is that so? My, oh my.” Violet had only ever seen maps of the west growing up. She recalled staring at them in curiosity, wondering just how big it all was. Compared to Georgia or even Arkansas, its vastness seemed unworldly. “You ever been to California?” she asked eagerly.

“Once or twice,” said Mei. “A few times more when I was older.”

“What made you come all the way out here? Usually it’s folks headin’ there you hear about.”

Mei seemed to take that question into consideration. After a few moments of silence, she shrugged and said, “Guess I just felt like it.” Violet, completely unsatisfied with such an answer, opened her mouth to probe further, but Mei had held up her hand.

“We’re here.”

Violet looked forward. The outpost was off in the distance by at least three miles, but it was visible on the horizon. As they rode closer, Violet could make out details of an old war fort next to a ramshackle set of stables and a barn. Covered wagons cropped up here and there around the wide open fort. The newest looking structure of the lot seemed to be the outhouse, built to the far left of the stables. Perched on the top edges of the log walls were flag poles with shredded bits of cloth hanging at the ends. One was mostly intact, but faded from the years of sunlight. Violet easily picked out the pattern and colors of the Confederacy as it fluttered overhead.

“Samuel!” Mei’s voice rang out as they approached the open gates. Violet noticed a few working men here and there, but hardly enough to properly make use of the massive fort. They stopped a few paces shy of the gates as a stalky, bloody-eyed drunkard stumbled into sight. He slumped his shoulders as he walked, with a head of straw-like, thinning hair. His cheeks puffed noticeably with every breath, and is threadbare suspenders barely kept his pants covering his round gut. “We got business for you.”

Samuel squinted, the mid-afternoon light seeming to irritate his eyes. “Whatchyu got?”

“Horses,” said Linus. “And plenty else.”

“Mm.” Samuel grunted and gestured towards the stables. “Y’all take the horses over’ch’er. Johnny boy will take ‘em off your hands, give ‘em a look-see.” Sitting Bear slipped from his saddle, helping Rory to the ground as well, and led the horses away. “You can bring the rest inside.”

Dismounting, Violet and the Railwalkers hitched their horses within the fort wall and followed Samuel into the only building in the place. The rest of the fort was filled with ramshackle pitch tents, worn from the weather. They entered the tiny building one by one and looked about. From the bars on the windows, Violet guessed that it used to be a place to keep prisoners during the war. It was small with a low ceiling, and lit by several oil lamps all along the walls. There was, in fact, a wall of cell doors, but most had been taken off their hinges, some of the cells converted into cozier living quarters. In front of a stone fireplace was a wide-stretch table, full of all sorts of odd objects. Pocketbooks, purses, scales, candlesticks, pots, pans, pants, suspenders, pocket watches, pens, lighters, and tin cases cluttered the space like a rock formation. Violet was so enamored with the spread that she didn’t notice the shelves upon shelves of kitchen supplies to the left of them. By her count, there was at least six bags of flour, ten bags of sugar, five bottles of molasses, ten or twelve cans of coffee, a small pyramid of beans, two or three cans of tobacco, and two giant barrels: one held salt, the other, pickled…something. None of this took into account the cans and bags of product she simply didn’t recognize. She looked upon the spoils in awe.

“My word…” she breathed. “You could last a whole winter in here an’ still have breakfast for spring.”

Mei and Linus, both carrying bundles of what they’d taken from the lawmen, laid their contraband on a slightly barer side of the table. Mei then slipped the strap of her rifle off her shoulder, rubbing the pinch away. Her gun rested idle in her left hand. Samuel sucked his front teeth and began to go through the loot. While he sorted through the Railwalkers’ take, Mei and Linus roamed through the goods for trade. Too drawn by curiosity, Violet joined in, and began to sift through all the eclectic items on the table.

“Whatchyu lookin’ fer?” Samuel’s voice was rough and sloppy. Violet could almost hear the whiskey in his words.

“Supplies,” said Mei. “Corn meal, salt, liquor. Maybe some fresh casings…”

“And sugar!” Rory, who was lingering by the food, pointed at a paper bag on a shelf far too high for him to reach. Mei nodded with a smile.

“And sugar,” she agreed.

“Will y’all be needin’ a place fer tonight?” Samuel asked.

“It’d be a good idea,” said Linus. “It’ll be nice to sleep with a roof over our heads. Maybe get in a proper meal.”

“Then the barn’s yers, as usual. We’ll make up some cots for ya.” Samuel’s lazy eyes suddenly landed on Violet. She felt a sharp spike in her gut and turned away. However, she watched out of the corner of her eye as Samuel waddled over to where she stood. Brazen, he got within a foot of Violet before stopping. “And what’s the price for this piece here?” he growled.

“The girl ain’t for sale.” Mei didn’t even bother looking up from the table. While Samuel had come up to Violet’s left, Mei was on her right. Violet had a strong urge to leave the building, but Samuel put a hand on her lower back before she had a chance to move.

“There’s a price for e’erything, ain’t there? How ‘bout just fer an hour or two…”

Chk-chck.

With a flick of her wrist, Mei loaded her rifle and lifted it level until the barrel was barely an inch from Samuel’s crooked nose. The cold metal of the shaft gently brushed Violet’s red cheek. “I said,” Mei began again, “that the girl ain’t for sale.” She finally looked Samuel’s way. There was a fire in her dark eyes, as if daring Samuel to test her. “This ain’t negotiable, Sam.”

Samuel seemed to get the picture. Violet felt his meaty hand let her waist go, and he backed away, hands visible. Mei waited until he was at least a few yards off before lowering her rifle. She went back to scavenging. “Hm.” Mei picked something up from the table. In the light, Violet caught a glimpse of a beautifully detailed silver lighter. Engraved on the face was an intricate lion bust, its mouth open mid-roar.

“I’ll be takin’ this, too.”

Samuel’s men set them up in the barn for the evening. The five of them were given flimsy cots on wooden legs, but it was better than rocks and dirt. The far corner of the barn had been cleared out for such an occasion, including a small smoke stack above for any campfires, but they still had to share the space with a few dairy cows and a small group of clucking chickens. By the time they turned in, the Railwalkers had successfully negotiated their haul in exchange for sugar, flour, salt, whiskey, cornbread, coffee, beans, tobacco, a basket of random vegetables, ammunition, an extra blanket, some fresh clothes, and a tiny tin can of corn starch. The starch had been Violet’s request. While their supper cooked (chicken stew and dumplings), Violet used a spare pot and Rory’s berries to teach him how to make jam. They had used a mortar and pestle to squish the strawberries into a fine pulp, and dumped them in along with a cup of water.

“Now first we let this boil,” she instructed, stirring it slightly. “You don’t want nothin’ to burn in your pan, so you stir it every once in a while. Ah, see? It’s bubblin’ already. Let me take it off.” Carefully, she removed the pot from the fire and set it into the dirt. Rory, who had been astutely watching, now sat on his knees and peered at the sticky substance within. Violet took a coffee cup and opened the new bag of sugar. “You want about half of this…” She filled the cup half way and dumped it into the pot. She handed Rory the spoon, letting him stir it until it was smooth. “And then…” Taking a spoon, she measured just enough starch and tossed it in. “Now it should be nice and thick. Give it a stir.” Rory did so, his smile gleeful at the thick, warm jam. “Get your jar now.” He eagerly set it on the ground, the lid unscrewed. Wrapping the pot in a cloth, Violet began to pour in the substance.

“We wait until it cools in the pot, and we ain’t never gettin’ it out. But, we let it cool in the jar? It gets nice and firm overnight.” When the pot was scraped clean, Violet set the hot jar aside. “And there we go. See? Easy.”

“Oooh.” Rory leaned over the jar and sniffed hard. “It smells so good! I wanna eat some now.”

“I think you should follow Miss Violet’s instruction,” Linus teased. “Don’t want to burn your tongue, do you?”

Rory pouted, but shook his head. He plopped onto his cot, wrapping the provided moth-eaten blanket around his shoulders. “I’m gonna eat that jam every mornin’!” he declared. He licked his lips, already dreaming about the morning. “I’m gonna spread it on my cornbread so it’s aaaall sticky.”

“What happens when you run out of cornbread?” asked Linus.

“Then I’ll just eat it by itself.”

“You will get sick,” Sitting Bear pointed out.

“Besides,” said Mei, “supper first. Then we’ll think about breakfast. Come on.” They passed bowls around, each one spooning a fair portion of the chicken stew. Violet, being the last to get her food, sat on the flimsy cot and began to eat.

For the first time in a long time, Violet didn’t feel anxious. She sat quietly, eating her supper as the Railwalkers talked. It was small talk, mostly, and it relaxed her to simply sit and listen. At the end of the meal, Rory collected the bowls and set them with the dirty pot; they’d be washed in the morning. Linus, comfortable in bed, took out a harmonica and played slowly. He didn’t seem to be playing any particular song, but merely toyed with the notes as the fire crackled on.

Warm and full, Violet kicked off her shoes and curled up in bed. Across the fire, she saw Mei lying flat and staring into the flames. Her gun was not far off, and lingered just beneath her outstretched fingers. The orange fire licked the space between them, seeming to brush down the sides of her harsher features. Violet could see a glitter in her dark eyes. She had never seen a person with black eyes before. Perhaps in the sunlight, one might have said that Mei had brown eyes. But there, lit only by their tiny fire, Violet swore that they were as black as coal. They were beautiful eyes.

Suddenly, Mei caught her gaze. She looked as though she’d been off in her own world, and Violet’s stare had interrupted her. Violet blinked, embarrassed, and turned away. The blanket around her shoulders, she clutched it close, and let the sounds of Linus’s harmonica whisk her away to sleep. When Violet woke again, the world was cold and dark. The fire had gone out, but it was not morning yet. If Violet had to guess, it was probably midnight. She had not been woken up by a bad dream or a sudden noise. No, the reason for Violet’s stirring was a rather impolite one. Shivering, she bundled up in her coat, and slipped out of the barn in search of the outhouse.

Her bladder throbbing, she skimmed the silver-lit landscape of the outpost. Finally, she spotted a small, thin building on the other end of the fort. She scampered towards it as quick as she could and shut the door behind her. The smell was vile, but Violet ignored it. She hiked up her dress and sat down on the cold, wooden seat. Relief came instantly. Sleepy, Violet lingered there for a bit longer than necessary. Now that she was no longer in dire straits, her body was slow to move. Finally, Violet shook off and stepped back into the cold night air.

It took a moment until Violet noticed that a figure was approaching her in the dark. She immediately dismissed the silhouette as any of the Railwalkers. As they came close to passing each other, Violet caught sight of Samuel’s face.

“Eh?” He paused in front of her, squinting as though he had only just noticed Violet. He suddenly smiled. Even in the moonlight, Violet could see the decay on his teeth. “And whatchyu doin’ up so late?” Liquor still laced his breath.

“I was just headin’ back to bed.” Violet tried to sidestep him, but Samuel was wide. For every two steps she took, Samuel took one. He blocked her path in every direction.

“Purdy girl like you shouldn’t be walkin’ alone this late.” He suddenly grabbed her arm, his fingers tight. Violet was shaken with a now familiar fear and tried to pull away. Samuel’s hand was so sweaty, Violet could feel the perspiration through her sleeve.

“Let me go!” she demanded. Samuel only laughed. Violet began to struggle, and struggle hard. She yanked, she hit, she kicked, but Samuel’s grip was firm.

“We ain’t seen a proper woman ‘round here for three years.” His voice was calm, as though he was having a perfectly normal conversation. “Can’t just let that opportunity pass ya.”

“Y-you see Mei!” Violet argued desperately.

“The chink don’t count,” Samuel slobbered. “She’d just as soon chop a man’s cock off as look at one. Now, c’mere darlin’.” He began pulling her in closer. Violet hollered nonsensically. Finally, with all her kicking and hitting, something landed. Her foot, aiming true, stomped on Samuel’s toes. With a pained cry, grabbed his boot, releasing her arm. Violet took off running towards the barn.

“Help!” she cried. “Help, help me!” In her panic, her bare ankle twisted, mid-run, and she fell to the ground. She shouted as she fell, and turned to look behind her. Samuel was limping forward, snorting through his wide nose like a wounded bull. He was so close, Violet could see his red eyes pop from his fat face in rage. And then—

Bang!

Samuel let out a scream. Blood gushed from his left knee like a waterfall. He collapsed in agony, clutching his leg. Trembling, Violet looked behind her. There, standing strong in the moonlight, was Mei. In her hand was her faithful Winchester, smoking gently. She lowered her gun.

“That’s the problem with you men,” she said. “Y’all never listen.”

Completely unfazed by Samuel’s wailing, Mei slung her rifle over her shoulder and knelt down by Violet. “You all right?” she asked evenly.

Violet nodded. “I…” She glanced back at Samuel. He had gone quiet now, but was curled up like a baby, whimpering. “I think I twisted my foot summut…” She tried rolling her ankle, but felt a sharp pain in response. Mei offered Violet her hand.

“C’mon.” She took it, and Mei helped her up, pulling Violet’s arm over her shoulders. Without so much as a look back to their bleeding host, Mei helped Violet back into the barn. Violet, however, glanced behind them.

“He…he gonna be all right?” she asked.

“You care?” Mei responded. Seeing Violet’s worry, Mei sighed. “He’ll live. Ain’t the first time I’ve had to sober him up that way.”

“You’ve shot him before?”

Mei nodded. “Square in the ass.”

Violet snorted, and the two laughed quietly as they walked back into the barn. Mei helped her back into bed and even tucked her in. “We’ll check up on that foot in the mornin’,” she said. “Rest up. I’ll keep watch in case he gets any more bright ideas.”

Violet suddenly felt guilt. “Oh, you don’t gotta stay up. I’m sure it’s fine.”

Mei sat upright in her cot, Winchester cradled in her lap. “I ain’t gettin’ any more sleep tonight anyhow. You go on.” Violet settled on her bed, pulling the blanket to her chin. For a while, she looked dead on at the ceiling. As frightened as she had been a moment ago, now, Violet was calm. Either Mei’s presence brought her peace, or she was (sadly) getting used to this.

“Mei?”

“Mm?”

“Somethin’ he said that I don’t quite get.”

“Oh?”

Violet pondered how to repeat Samuel’s words without being too crass. Mei, while she waited, lit a cigarette with her new silver lighter. “He said…he said somethin’ about you not bein’ a proper woman. Said that you…” She faltered. Mei snapped her lighter closed, the lit cherry burning through the darkness. Violet’s cheeks grew hot and she shifted her eyes away. “Said that you would um…you’d chop a man’s parts off as soon as look at ‘em. What’s he mean by that?”

Mei chuckled quietly. Smoke left her nose like curling snakes. “I don’t like men much.”

“You don’t?” Violet turned back to her. “But you like Linus, and Sittin’ Bear—”

“Not like that, child.” Mei took a long drag from her cigarette and blew it out slowly. “I ain’t no man’s wife, understand me?” Clearly, Violet did not. Mei leaned forward, cigarette pinched between her thumb and forefinger. “Men don’t interest me.” Violet looked all the more confused, and Mei sighed deeply. “I am of the feminine persuasion, get me?”

“I…I don’t…”

“She fucks girls.” Linus mumbled from his cot.

Violet shot up like a spring. She sat stiffly in the dark and looked between Mei and Linus. It took her some seconds to decipher if what Linus said was correct. It was certainly the first time Violet had heard of something so strange. When she turned to Mei for confirmation or denial, Mei supplied neither, and instead smoked her cigarette to its last ash.

“Not too many hours of night left,” she said. “Get your rest while you can.” After a long moment of contemplation, Violet laid down flat and stared at the roof of the barn until sunrise.

Chapter 5

That morning, they packed up their things and readied for the road ahead. The next town over would take them at least a week to reach, meaning that Violet’s chances of being followed this time were slim to none. Samuel’s men cooked them a send-off breakfast, which Samuel himself attended. His knee had been bandaged tightly, and he spent the meal nursing an old crutch. As to the origin of his injury, no one said a word. Violet herself had been fairly quiet that morning, too. Her mind was still buzzing from the night before.

She fucks girls. Violet had been raised with high morals, the same as anybody, but she wasn’t stupid. She knew the basics of what a husband and wife did behind closed doors. Additionally (now more than ever), she understood the desires that lurked in evil men’s hearts. And yet…two women? How was that possible, how did it work? After the initial shock, Violet was stuck on the simple mechanics of it all. Charlie had taught her most of what she knew about copulation. When a man was ready to father children, he would penetrate his wife and, God willing, spread his seed. What more was there? Violet’s mind had been so high in the clouds that she barely noticed when they set off again. Maple walked slowly beside the rest, allowing Violet’s thoughts to wander.

“You’ve been awfully quiet,” Mei said after a few hours on the road. Huī had stepped up beside Maple at a sturdy pace, his black coat shimmering in the late morning sunlight. “Something on your mind?”

Violet shifted in Maple’s saddle. So many questions sat on her tongue, yet she hesitated to speak them. “Nothing,” she said finally.

“Nothing,” Mei repeated. “Never play poker, girl. You’ll get called out every time.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“Means you’re a shit liar.”

Violet stared at the back of Maple’s head, her fingers twirling in her mane. “I just…I’m curious, I suppose.”

Mei smiled crookedly. “‘Bout me, I reckon.”

“Yes.”

“Go on then. I ain’t shy.”

Clearly, Violet thought. “Well…” She ran her tongue back and forth along her teeth. “Have you ever…I mean…What makes you…?”

“Prefer women?” Mei finished. “Allow me to speculate, but I’d venture you’ve never known someone in the biblical sense, have ya?” Violet turned red, which was enough of an answer for Mei. “Men are sloppy, quick, short-sighted lovers. A little in, a little out, and then—” Mei blew a raspberry, flapping her hand limply in the breeze.

Violet was visibly uncomfortable with the topic, but curiosity probed her forward. “H-have you—?”

“With a man? Never.”

“Then how do you know you would be so opposed to them?”

Mei snarked at such a question. “Same way you know a rattler’s poison. Some other poor soul died before it bit you. I’ve known enough workin’ girls in my life to know the limits of your average man.”

“So that’s why? Because men simply don’t suit you? Why not just abstain all together rather than…than…”

“That ain’t the only reason, certainly. Just one of the main ones. Besides…” Mei shifted on her saddle, finding a more comfortable spot to ride in. “Once you know what it’s like, I doubt celibacy will be the first thing on your mind.”

“You don’t know what’d be on my mind!” Violet squeaked. “A-and who says I’d even—? I’m no workin’ girl. My mama raised me right! The only person I’ll ever know is the man chosen to be my husband, under God and the church.”

“I see,” said Mei. “And is this your will or your mama’s?”

“What does it matter?”

“It matters plenty.” Mei leaned forward on her saddle horn, her face shadowed by the round brim of her black hat. “Listen. Far be it from me to tell you how to live your life, but you won’t be goin’ back to Redrock any time soon. What, did you have a fiancé back home?”

Violet hesitated. “No. Mama was edgin’ me towards Eustace Carpenter, but…”

“But?”

“Well…I never liked Eustace. When we were children, he was always cruel. Nothing changed much when we got older.”

“I see. A sweetheart then?”

Violet thought about it. “I don’t…No, I suppose not. I did kiss Warwick Johnson on the lips when I was twelve on a dare, but I can’t say I enjoyed it. He tasted like dirt, I remember.”

“So you don’t have no fiancé and you’ve never had a sweetheart.”

“That’s right.”

Suddenly, Mei was smiling. She sat upright with a chuckle. “Who’s to say you ain’t in the same boat as me then?”

A shock went down Violet’s spine. She pulled on Maple’s reins, halting her all together. Mei watched her with mild interest. For a moment, Violet wordlessly gaped, opening and closing her mouth like a suffocating fish. “I—you—how-how dare—!”

“Oh? Taken that as an insult, have we?”

“I am not like you!” Violet finally blurted out. “You don’t know nothin’ about me; we couldn’t be more different!”

“Is that right?”

“It is!” Violet proclaimed. “I ain’t never considered such unsavory thoughts, for one thing. And for another—for another—why even if I had, I would know better than to act!”

Mei rounded Huī in front of Maple, her eyes locked dead on Violet’s. “Let me ask you this then: when was the last time you felt your heart flutter? When was the last time that pure virgin’s blood of yours ran hot like liquor? Or had there even been a last time?” Violet was very still. She tried thinking back to a time when she felt such things. Had she ever? After a moment, Violet realized that right then, her heart felt like it was beating a thousand drums. Her neck pulsed quickly, and she felt sweat on her palms the tighter she clutched Maple’s reins.

“What about it?” Violet finally responded. Mei edged Huī forward until she and Violet were face to face.

“Now when was the last time such feelings were brought on by a man?” Violet’s throat was dry. Unable to take much more, she jerked Maple away and trotted to catch up with the others. Mei did not push the subject for the rest of the day.

* * * *

Violet woke at sunrise, though not by choice. She had slept restlessly that night, tossing and turning in her bundle of sheepskin blankets (lent to her by the Railwalkers). When the sun began to show, she had barely fallen into a light slumber, which was quickly disrupted by a strange, pained sound of someone moaning. Sleepy, Violet pried her eyes open and looked around the camp. The boys were asleep soundly, and had not yet noticed the sound. Sitting up, Violet spotted Mei curled up on her side, facing away from her. Her knees were tucked into her stomach, held tightly by crossed arms. Her blanket had slipped off during the night. From behind, Violet could see a small spot of red seeping through her trousers.

Quietly, Violet walked over to Mei and knelt beside her. She gently touched her shoulder. “Mei?” she whispered. Mei shifted, her eyes barely opening. Her face was pale, and dark tendrils of hair were stuck to her skin with cold sweat. “Do you have a rag?” she asked. Mei nodded wordlessly and gestured to Huī’s saddle bag. Violet glanced around them. Not far off, she spotted a small creek bed, with a few large rocks adorning the shore. “Let’s get you washed first. Here. Grab on.” Mei reached up and took hold of Violet’s shoulder. With a heave, she pulled Mei to her feet, and brought her to the edge of the creek.

Before sitting her down, Violet laid out her own sheepskin blanket along the gravel for Mei’s comfort, and urged her to sit behind one of the rocks for privacy. As Mei undressed her lower half, Violet went back to camp and returned with a spare set of trousers and an old, thoroughly used wash rag. She frowned at the brown stained cloth, unsatisfied with its condition. Still, she returned with it.

“How old is this?” she asked. Mei, who had managed to slip out of her bloodied pants, simply shrugged. Violet shook her head. “I knew a girl who got sick from using somethin’ so old. Here.” She knelt down and washed the rag in the creek. After squeezing it out, she handed it to Mei. “Wipe yourself down. I’ll bring you something else.”

“Something else?”

“Yes. Go on now.” When Violet returned to camp a second time, she began to rifle through the supplies bartered for back at Samuel’s outpost. When she came up empty, she noticed a piece of cloth hanging out from beneath Maple’s saddle. The saddle blanket had been bought fairly recently, Violet remembered, as a birthday gift. She fumbled through Mei’s effects until coming across her big, terrifying hunting knife. Approaching Maple, she began to cut off a decently sized square from its corner.

By the time she returned to the creek bed, Mei had wiped herself clean. The now soiled rag lay next to her. “Here we are.” Violet washed the shred of blanket in the water, wrung it out thoroughly, and then cupped it in her hands while blowing hot breath into it. Mei stared at her, confused.

“What are you…?”

“Well, you don’t want no cold rag, do you? I’m warmin’ it up for you.” Once it was at a proper temperature, Violet handed it to Mei and returned to camp a third time while she dressed. It took some time, but eventually, Mei began limping her way back to camp. The others were awake by now, and just starting to cook breakfast. Next to the pot of coffee seated directly into the fire, there was a second pot with something unusual submerged in water. Mei squinted at it.

“Should be done,” said Linus to Violet. Taking a pair of wooden tongs, he reached in and pulled out another ripped piece of blanket from the pot. “Careful,” he warned, “it’s hot.”

Violet took it delicately and nodded in thanks. She then rounded to Mei and gestured to Mei’s bedroll and blankets, which had been made neatly while Mei was by the creek. “Lay down.”

“Why?”

“Please.”

Mei was clearly suspicious, but laid on her back. “Under the blankets,” Violet instructed. With a huff, Mei did as was asked. When Violet was satisfied, she set the hot cloth on the blanket, directly on top of Mei’s abdomen. Mei’s face turned to sudden relief and she let out a deep sigh.

“My God…”

“Better?”

“Yes. Thank you.” Mei’s entire body relaxed.

“If it gets cold, let me know and I’ll warm it back up for you.”

Mei shifted, opening her eyes. “Warm it back up? We’d be on the road by then.”

Linus was the one to answer this time. “Not today,” he said. “Miss Violet has insisted that we take time to rest while you regain your strength.”

Mei huffed. “Horseshit. A few hours like this and I’ll be right as rain.”

Rory, his mouth messy with strawberry jam, piped up. “We don’t like it when you bleedin’, Mei. We know it hurts ya, and hurts ya bad, but you never let us help. Sides, we don’t mind stoppin’ a bit.”

“It is wise to know one’s limitations,” Sitting Bear added. “If we are caught and you are weak, we are all weak.”

Mei pushed herself up, her hair still stuck to her sweating face and neck. “Now you look here,” she began. “I ain’t no meek female. I’m worth twice any man’s weight in gold—” She stopped only when Violet laid a hand on her shoulder.

“You think after all this time with you we wouldn’t know that?” Linus asked.

Violet tenderly laid her back down. “There’s no shame in taking care of yourself,” she said. “Sitting Bear is right, and I’ve seen more than my share of girls fall to fever because they neglected their bodies. That’s the last thing anyone wants right now.”

Clearly, Mei wanted to argue more, but exhaustion won out, and she stayed quiet. Violet stood and dusted off the bottom of her skirt. “Now then. You rest up, eat some breakfast, and I’ll go wash them britches for ya.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I want to. End of discussion.”

Mei turned her head away. There was an odd expression in her face; one that Violet knew, but could never picture fitting someone like Mei. The bold, legendary Railwalker who spoke so openly about fornication, tobacco, and alcohol, was embarrassed. While Violet had half a mind to tease her for it (turnabout was fair play, after all), Violet left it alone and returned to the creek bed, where she began to scrub Mei’s dirty trousers.

The day that followed was slow and gentle. Mei napped for most of the morning, and Violet was sure to keep her cloth warm and comfortable. After washing Mei’s pants, Violet suggested that they should take some time to wash anything else that needed it. She and Sitting Bear gathered up what they could, and soon, a line of laundry hung dry between two nearby trees. Mei was up for dinner, and they finished off the last of the cornbread with a bowl full of beans each. Violet even rinsed out Mei’s rag for her around mid-day in spite of Mei’s protests that it was “barely used.” Mei was too restless to sleep after that, so she and Linus played cards for the afternoon while Violet and Rory explored the nearby woods. They found a small family of rabbits, two foxes, a beehive (Violet made sure to keep Rory as far away as possible), a colorful array of all kinds of mushrooms, and endless patches of wildflowers. They had picked a bushel each before returning for supper. They ate as the sun went down. After hot food and a few off-color jokes, they settled in for the night. Mei, sitting up against a log, was fighting with her knotted, sweaty hair, having not brushed it yet. Violet could only watch for so long before stepping forward.

“Here. You’re gonna rip it all out at this rate.” She held her hand out for the brush.

Mei pouted. “I can take care of myself.”

“Never said you couldn’t.” Still, Violet’s hand remained outstretched.

Finally giving way, Mei handed Violet the brush and scooted forward an inch. Violet sat on the log behind her and began to brush. “Would you like a braid?” Mei nodded. “All right.” Humming softly, Violet focused on her work. She was about half way through when Mei spoke up.

“You didn’t have to do none of this, you know,” she said. Violet smiled.

“No,” she agreed. “But I can’t imagine bein’ on your own during your lady days. I always had someone to care for me, and I was sure to return the favor. It’s so miserable otherwise.” Mei stayed silent, staring into the fire. Violet gently guided the brush down her long trail of silky black hair, most of the knots having been dealt with. “My word…I swear I’ve never seen hair this long. And it’s so beautiful.” She threaded her fingers through it. It felt like thousands of satin strands slipping across her skin.

“It’s just hair,” said Mei.

“It’s gorgeous.” Again, Mei went quiet. Violet picked up the ends and brushed them smooth. Even with the hair’s beauty, the ends were frayed and damaged from heat and ware. Violet examined it in the firelight. “Still, you should probably trim these ends here. It’s gettin’ frizzy.”

“No.”

“Why not? I’m sure there’s some sheers somewhere, I could just—”

“I said no.”

Violet stalled, an uncomfortable silence between them. Violet went back to brushing. Eventually, she was satisfied enough to start braiding. Her fingers worked seamlessly, a slick, even braid forming down the spine of Mei’s back. “Can I ask you something?”

“You just did.”

“Your brush. What kinda lizard is on it?”

Mei actually turned around, pausing Violet’s hands. “Lizard?” she clarified.

“Ain’t that what it is? I’ve never seen a lizard with no mustache before, though. It can’t be a snake, cause snakes don’t got arms, so…”

Mei smiled, a bright flame of humor in her gaze. “Lizard,” she repeated. She laughed freely and turned back around, letting Violet get back to work. “It ain’t no lizard, child. It’s a dragon.”

“What?” Violet stopped again to examine the brush. She frowned. “No, this ain’t a dragon. Where’s the wings?”

“It don’t need wings. Flies on the air.”

“Nonsense. Everything that flies needs wings.”

“Not this.”

“Well, it don’t look like any dragon I’ve ever seen before,” Violet pointed out stubbornly. “Dragons are fat with big, bat wings. They breathe fire and eat knights in shining armor. I used to have a story book all about them when I was little.”

“These are different dragons.” Mei held up the brush, casting firelight onto the carved ivory. “These dragons are wise. Some bring the rain, some bring the wind. They ask riddles and make thunder crash from above.”

“Sounds more like God than a dragon.”

“Who says it isn’t?” Mei shifted her head. “That braid done yet?”

Violet huffed, but took the twine from her lap. “Just about.” Pinching the end of the loose braid, Violet took a thin piece of leather and wrapped it tightly around the tail. When she’d wrapped it for as far as it could go, Violet knotted it off and slipped a silver hair pin through the leather, holding it in place. “There we are.”

Mei slipped it forward from her shoulder and examined it. “Thank you,” she said. “You did a lovely job.”

Violet beamed and sat down beside her. They stared at the dwindling campfire, listening to the song of crickets in the black world around them. Eventually, Violet picked the brush back up and once again examined it. She felt the smooth, worn-out etchings against her fingertips, and wondered again just how old it was.

“Is it from China?” she asked.

Mei hesitated. Her eyes flickered between the fire and the brush before answering. “It was my mother’s. And her mother’s. And hers. So yes.”

“It must be very old.”

“It is.”

Violet plucked a hair from its bristles. “Did your mother have long hair like you?” Suddenly, Violet was inundated with questions. “What’s she like? Where is she, even? Back in Nevada? Does she know what you do—?”

Mei pulled the brush from Violet’s hands. “I’m tired,” she announced. “Goodnight, girl.” Turning away, Mei laid on her side and blocked her face from Violet’s view. But Violet did not go easily. She folded her arms, remaining where she was.

“I have a name, you know. It’s Violet.”

“Does it matter? In a week’s time, our paths part. Your name could be ‘Bill’ for all the good it would do. Now go to sleep.” Violet was startled by Mei’s cold send off. Her pride wounded, Violet stood and marched to her bedroll, turning in for the night, herself. Now alone with her thoughts, Violet didn’t know what was worse: Mei’s harsh words, or the fact that she was absolutely correct.

Mei was far better off the next morning. As the week rolled by, Violet grew to know the Railwalkers more and more. She spent most of her time with Rory, often exploring nooks and crannies found along their travels. As Linus had suggested, the Railwalkers stayed far away from any main roads or obvious traveling areas. No doubt this was a wise decision on their part, but she wondered just how much length had been added to their journey because of it. If Violet was going to be completely honest, she didn’t mind the longer road by now.

Sleeping Bear did most of the cooking, with the exception of a couple of stews made by Linus. Violet always offered to help cook, figuring that her contributions could repay at least some of her debt. Linus gave her the job of prep cook, and so Violet spent her afternoons peeling potatoes and slicing meats. Occasionally, Rory brought in a squirrel or a rabbit caught in one of his snares. Violet was quick to find that despite his age, Rory was quite handy with ropes and knots. Violet went with him on the mornings he set his traps. A simple loop of twine, tied to two branches: a low hanging, loose branch, close to the ground, and a taut secondary branch, pulled firmly and tied to the twine to keep in place. Once some poor creature wandered in, they would catch themselves in the noose and flung up to the sky, their neck snapping in the process. There was a net for fishing he liked to use as well, but their travels had led them away from the creek bed, and so, it remained untouched. Whenever he returned with his spoils, Sitting Bear would clean and skin the game, and spend the evenings tanning the hides and stowing them away for later.

“How much longer we got?” Violet asked one day as she chopped carrots.

Linus added a sprinkle of some kind of spice into the campfire pot. It was just an hour or two before sunset. “Eager to get rid of us that quickly?” he teased.

Violet smiled. “Just wondering, is all.”

“Let’s see.” Linus looked around him, surveying the land. “I’d say one more day should do it.”

“Where are we going, anyhow?”

“Malvern.”

“Is it nice?”

“Nice as anywhere.”

Violet went quiet, staring at the carrots in her lap. Linus quickly noticed her silence. “Something on your mind?” he asked.

“No…Well…Yes.” Violet picked up the carving knife and continued to cut thick slices of carrot. “I suppose I’m nervous. New town and all. Gotta introduce myself all over again to all sorts of strangers.”

Linus shrugged. “There are worse things if you ask me.”

“I guess.” When she finished off the carrot, she dumped the slices into the boiling pot. “I just wonder how I’ll get along on my own. When I was in Little Rock, I at least had some money to my name.”

“We ain’t leavin’ you broke, Violet. You know that.”

“But why though? I never understood why y’all went out of your way like this to help me. I’m probably more trouble than I’m worth.”

“Heh. Well, I won’t say you weren’t trouble, for sure. But Mei would never forgive herself if she left you in danger like that.”

“Mei?” Violet turned and spotted Mei on the horizon. She was scouting the area, making sure it was a safe place to camp for the night. “Why would Mei care?”

“Ain’t you figured it out by now?” Violet shook her head, and Linus stirred the pot. “We told you before we help people.”

“By killin’ people…” Violet mumbled.

“Killin’ people who deserve to be killed,” Linus insisted. “Any how…We do it for money, sure. In fact, where we’re headin’ is where we pick up our pay. But we also do it to protect those who cannot protect themselves. Mei especially.”

“Why especially?”

Linus’s hands slowed, seeming torn with how to answer such a question. “Perhaps one day, she might tell you.”

“If I ever see y’all again.” Violet hadn’t intended it to sound as miserable as it was. She glanced at Linus. “Let’s say you drop me off, and I’m all alone. Sure, I have some money and a place to sleep but…but then what? Just be on my own for the rest of my life?”

“You woulda been on your own back in Little Rock.”

“At least in Little Rock I had some personal effects. I wasn’t that far from home; I could send letters. Maybe even send for my family when it was safe to. Now, all I got is…” Her hand lingered on the leather bound journal next to her. Her eyes saddened. “Strangely enough…y’all were starting to feel like friends to me. Tomorrow I’ll be more alone than I ever was.”

Linus rested the wooden spoon against his cooking pot, watching her curiously. “You are something else, Miss Violet, you know that?”

“What’s that mean?”

Linus smiled. “You got yourself a spark. Heart on your sleeve, honest to a fault, that’s you, I reckon. Why, I bet you couldn’t tell a lie if your life depended on it.”

“That’s not true,” Violet protested. “I used to fib all the time when I was little. One winter, Charlie made a whole batch of chocolate cookies and I ate every single one before Mama’s Christmas party.” Violet paused, remembering that night. “She figured it out, a’course.”

“Like I said,” Linus repeated, “not if your life depended on it.”

Violet scrunched her knees to her chest, staring at the toes of her muddy boots. “Well…ain’t such a bad thing, is it? Bein’ honest.”

“No, ma’am,” said Linus. “Most folk would think it a virtue, don’t get me wrong.”

“Though most folk are exceptionally thick when it comes to such things.” Mei had entered the conversation, taking a seat opposite Violet. “A good lie can save your hide when you need it to.”

“And what if I never need it to?” Violet insisted. “Live a life of piety and you should never need to resort to trickery.”

“In a perfect world, perhaps. In that tiny home town of yours, sure. But not out here. Not in the world we live in. More often than not, the truth gets you into worse trouble than a nice, easy lie.”

Violet huffed, her shoulders squared as she stared Mei down. “You’re nothin’ but a wily fox in the hen house.”

“Guilty.”

“At least you’re honest about that.” Violet sighed and let her head droop behind her. The sun was nearly down by now, and stars had begun to blink into existence. “What happens if I’m attacked again?” Violet looked up, and both Linus and Mei kept their eyes averted. “Seems like I can’t go nowhere without some greasy man puttin’ his hands on me. What happens the next time?” Mei was visibly uncomfortable, having clearly not given that question any thought. Violet looked to Linus, but he had no answers, either.

“If anything happens,” Mei finally said, “you get in contact with us somehow. We’ll fix ‘em up—”

“So I’m just supposed to let it happen first? Is that it? Then you swoop in and murder someone else?”

Mei turned to her. “I could teach you a few things. It won’t be much, but it’ll be enough to get you out of a tough scrape if you need it.” Violet bit her lip. She was instantly uncomfortable about what “some things” could possibly mean. But, with her options limited, Violet nodded in agreement. Mei stood, and motioned for Violet to stand with her. She did so, and they stepped away from the campfire.

“Right.” Mei removed her jacket. “Now, let’s say some bastard is comin’ for you from the front.” Mei inched close, and Violet caught a whiff of Mei’s scent. She smelled like smoke and worn leather and oils. A strange thrill shot through her. “First thing you want to do is aim for the nose. Lemme see your hand here.” She took Violet’s right hand and tilted the palm upwards, making it perpendicular to the ground. Violet couldn’t help but notice the countless calluses on Mei’s fingers. They were so unlike any other woman’s hands she’d ever felt. “You take the heel of your hand, and with all your might—” Mei moved Violet’s hand forward, locking her elbow straight in the process. “Right here in the nose. Breaks it easy, gives you time to run off. If you can’t reach his nose, aim for his throat—” Mei balled Violet’s hand into a fist, resting it on her throat. “—or you take your knee—” She lifted Violet’s leg, her skirts shifting as she struggled to stay balanced. “—and wham. Right in his balls.”

Violet withdrew, shocked at the suggestion. “In his privates? Lord, how much would that hurt?!”

“Not nearly as much as what he’d do to you, trust me. Now if he’s comin’ from behind…” Mei walked around Violet, and gently laid her arm around Violet’s throat. Mei’s body was warm, and her hot breath on Violet’s nape made her tiny hairs hair bristle. “Grab my wrist there.” Violet did as was instructed with both hands. “Now what you want to do is bend that sucker as hard as you can. It helps if you bend his pinky back, too. Once his arm is down, you peel away, and take off runnin’. And I mean you run as fast as you very well can. Then get in touch with us.”

“How do I do that?” Violet turned to face Mei, but found that this was a terribly awful idea. Her words died in her throat as she realized that she far closer to Mei than propriety dictated. Their slight difference in height was immediately noticeable, as Mei’s extra couple inches made her feel like a tree giving Violet shade. Once again, Violet found herself caught in Mei’s warm, black beetle eyes. She forced herself to step away and spoke again. “Heaven knows where y’all will be if it ever does happen again. Half way between here and the edge of the world, most like…Not as if I can send a letter, can I?”

“There are ways,” Mei assured her. “We have a contact in Malvern. If you ever need us, talk to her, and she’ll get the word out.”

“And what if word don’t get out fast enough?” Violet pushed. “What if I get away from the scrape, then what? He follows me, tracks me down and comes at me with a gun or a knife or—”

“You worry too much.”

“And you don’t seem to worry about nothin’!”

“I worry plenty.”

“About what?”

Mei had seemed to have her fill of the conversation and turned away. “Nothing is ever certain in life. You can’t keep hiding from it forever and forget to live.”

“Better to live a coward than die an idiot,” Violet retorted.

Surprisingly, Linus was the one to answer. “She’s got a point there, Mei.” Mei swiped her jacket from the ground and took a seat on her yet unmade bedroll. The soup would be ready soon enough. No one seemed interested in furthering the conversation.

They packed up and took off at sunup, after a light breakfast. They rode quietly, for the most of it, with very little change in their scenery until about mid-morning. As the sun was prickling the top of Violet’s head, she noticed a few scattered buildings far beyond the horizon of the prairie and trees. She shielded her eyes and squinted. “That it?”

“That’s it,” Linus affirmed. “Should be there by dinner time.” Linus took up the front of the party and led them down a winding, dirt road. Tree stumps cropped up on either side of their path as the forest gave way to the wide open plains around them. Violet could see the growing details of a train station, a few local buildings, a general store, and other recognizable structures. As they traveled further in, Violet noticed something else. A small gust of hot wind turned her attention to the right. A bubbling spring, small and shallow, babbled hot against the red earth. Violet slowed Maple down, staring at it curiously. Before she could ask a question, Sitting Bear had slipped from his saddle and led his mustang towards the spring.

“Hot springs,” said Mei. “Malvern is known for ‘em.” Violet watched as Sitting Bear rested next to the spring’s shore, his legs crossed tightly.

“What’s he doin’?” Violet asked.

“Bear don’t like to go into this here town.” Rory, with some help, climbed onto the back of Linus’s saddle and got comfortable.

“Why not? He came into Little Rock—”

“Little Rock don’t mean the same.” Linus turned his mare back towards Malvern and gave it a little nudge with the heel of his boot. “We best move on now.”

“And just leave him?” Violet watched, shocked, as the Railwalkers calmly left their companion behind. Sitting Bear paid them no mind. Violet turned between Sitting Bear and the Railwalkers, before finally catching up with the rest. “Why’re you just leavin’ him on his own like that?”

“He’s happier this way,” said Linus. “Trust us.”

“All alone?”

“He’s not alone,” Rory piped up. “The ghosts’re here with him.”

Violet screwed up her brow in frustration. “Now Rory, you know there ain’t no such thing as ghosts, donchya?”

“There are,” Rory argued. “Bear talks about ‘em sometimes. Ghosts of his family.” Violet felt a chill run through her heart, despite the heat. She tried making eye contact with Linus or Mei. Neither one of them looked away from the road. Violet looked over her shoulder. Sitting Bear remained where he was, transfixed by the water. It took a while for Violet to speak again.

“What kind of Injun is he, anyway? I know there are different kinds.”

Mei kept her eyes set on Malvern, but answered. “Sitting Bear is Caddo. He and his family used to live on the northern border of Texas on Indian land. When he was young, Bear would come here to the hot springs. They say the water has healing powers.”

“Where’s his family now?” Violet probed. “What happened to them?”

But Mei shook her head. “I don’t think that’s a story I should be telling. Come on. We’re almost there.” Mei dug her boot into Huī’s ribs and the horse jolted into a sprint. The others followed suit, and before long, Malvern was upon them.

It was far less intimidating than Little Rock had been. The buildings were smaller, but wider, with uneven roads worn down by wheels and footsteps. Off in the distance, she spotted the train station she’d seen earlier, which was empty at the moment. But the platform was larger than she first thought. She could only imagine how many people would come and go on that railway. Trees dotted the landscape beyond the town, which sat under a wide, clear blue sky. Mei led their horses to the front of the nameless saloon in the center of town. They stepped inside. Instantly, the hot sun faded away as the swinging doors shut. Unlike the crowded saloon of Little Rock, Malvern’s public house was nearly empty. A worn-out piano gathered dust in the corner. A few dirty bottles with indistinguishable labels sat in front of a dirty, cracked mirror, reflecting into the center of the bar. Violet could feel the floorboards shift as she walked, creaking under the heels of her boots.

“Mornin’ Jim,” said Mei. The bartender, whom Violet didn’t notice until now, merely nodded at their arrival. Jim had a swollen head perched atop a spindly, thin neck. His eyes were watery and small. His clothes had come apart at the seams many a time, only to be sloppily patched back together.

The Railwalkers sat at the bar—Rory included—and Linus took a few crumpled bills from his pocket, laying them on the bar top. The tender took the cash without hesitation. Violet remained standing, and continued to look around the room.

“Is Ruby up yet?” Mei asked.

“Still sleepin’ I think,” Jim replied. “That woman might as well be dead, she sleeps so much.”

“How about a few drinks first, then I’ll rouse her. Sarsaparilla for the young’n.” Jim poured two shots of whiskey for Mei and Linus, and uncorked a black bottle, thick with dust, to pour out for Rory, who licked his lips in anticipation.

“And for that one?” Violet jumped when she was addressed. Mei, who knocked back her whiskey without a problem, turned to Violet.

“Well?” she asked. “Thirsty?”

“No thank you.” Violet pointedly turned her head. She noticed a wooden signed hammered to the wall near the rising stairwell. Curious, she inched closer and read the sloppily painted words: BATHS 5¢. Her heart leapt and she spun around. “Bath,” she blurted out. The others turned to her. “I would…erm…well I…”

“You’d like a bath, Miss?” Jim clarified.

“Yes—” Her face fell as she realized, however, she had not a red cent to her name, let alone enough to pay for a luxury like a bath. “No. I’m sorry. I’m afraid I can’t afford it.”

“She’ll take a bath.” Mei turned back to Jim, laying another half dollar on the table. “A nice, long one.”

“Of course. Right this way, Miss.” Leaving his rag on the bar, Jim left the counter and motioned Violet to follow him up the stairs. His movements were slow, though to Violet, he didn’t appear that old. The second floor had a long, threadbare carpet lining the narrow hallway. Unlit gas lamps sat at the door frame of every room, which had painted numbers in the same, sloppy hand as the bath sign. “The bath tub is down the hall here, Miss,” said Jim. “Might come out a little hot, now. We get the water directly from the springs. You be sure not to burn yourself.”

“I won’t,” Violet promised. She noticed faint muffling coming from a room or two. It sounded like laughter. “You get plenty of business here, Mr. Jim?”

“Enough,” Jim shrugged. “More when we get a train in.” They were nearing the door to the bath room when one of the other doors on Violet’s right suddenly swung open. A cowboy, his hat dipped low and his pants unbuttoned, was struggling with his belt as he hopped his way out. Violet pulled back to give him room, but he barely noticed her. With a smile on his face, he turned and thanked whoever was inside before heading to the stairway. As he left, a woman took his place.

She was Violet’s height, perhaps her age or slightly older. A silk slip slid from her creamy shoulder, dotted with freckles. From her head spilled beautiful, auburn red curls. They reminded Violet of the dirt they passed outside. The fabric barely clung to her body, which clearly had nothing underneath it. Her eyes were a swirl of green and brown, glinting in the sunlight from the window behind her. Violet turned her eyes away.

How could anyone be so indecent—?! she thought.

“Well now,” said Jim. “You have a good night, Miss Ruby?”

Ruby?

“Mm.” Her smudged, red lips dripped into a smile. She leaned on the edge of the door frame, her back flattening against the wood. She reminded Violet of the old paintings in some of her books. “I’d say so,” she sighed. “What’s life worth living if you can’t enjoy your work, hm?” Her eyes flickered to Violet. “New client?”

“Just taking her to the bath. No need to get excited.”

Ruby’s smile twisted wider. Violet tried to keep her expression blank, but clearly, something about her face intrigued Ruby. She inched forward, delighted at Violet’s trembling. “Such a delicate thing. May I?” Ruby gently took Violet’s hand and examined it. Though Ruby herself was a beauty, her hands told stories of work and toil. Her nails were chipped, and lined with dirt. She had some calluses, like Mei, though not nearly as many. “Precious,” she hissed. “They’re like gloves. A little dirty, but…”

“She came with Mei,” Jim added.

Ruby suddenly perked up, and let Violet’s hand go. Violet quickly jerked it behind her. Ruby didn’t notice. “Mei’s here?” she asked. “Where? When did she come in?”

“Just now. She’s downstairs. Her and the colored boy.”

“Ooh.” Ruby suddenly fluffed her hair and turned back into her room. “Heavens sakes. Warn a girl, won’t you, Jimmy? I gotta put my face on.” With that, Ruby shut the door.

“You’ll have to forgive that one,” said Jim. “Bit wild, but she brings in good money.”

“D-does she…” Violet shook off the static feeling on her skin. “She seemed to know Mei…She ain’t the one—is she?”

Jim didn’t answer. Instead, he opened the door to the bathroom and stood aside. It was a small area. Barely big enough for two or three people to be comfortable, but it was private. Two copper tubs stood on four claws each, with tall, narrow spouts at their heads. “See that closet there?” He gestured to a small boudoir to the right. “Towels inside there. Some soaps, too. You just turn this…” He went to the spigot and turned the knob. The pipe rattled loudly, shaking as water struggled to tumble outwards. When it finally did, it bubbled into the tub much like the sluggish stream Violet saw on her way in. It steamed ferociously, Violet able to feel the heat from where she stood at the door. “I’ll leave you to it then. Enjoy.” With that, Jim left the room and closed the door behind him.

Violet watched the tub slowly fill with growing anticipation. Despite its obvious heat, she wanted nothing more than to jump in feet first. Instead, she went to the wardrobe and rifled through the supplies. The towels were dingy and worn out in some places, some of them cut from flower sacks. She thumbed through the stack until finding the best of the lot and set it aside. To the left of the towels were all kinds of jars of different sizes. Tooth powder, a jar of lye flowers, rosemary, wax soap, powdered shampoo, and a jar that smelled of strong vinegar.

First, Violet took the tooth powder and scooped some water from the faucet with an empty bowl. She sat herself on a small stool beside the tub and spread it over her teeth with her finger. The grit gnashed against her mouth in an oddly satisfying way, though the chalky aftertaste left her with a cough. She rinsed out her mouth and spat into the chamber pot in the corner. Violet then took a handful of the lye and stuck her fist into the hot bath water. Ignoring the sting for now, Violet rubbed her hands together quickly, creating a froth that bubbled up onto the water’s surface.

Finally, the tub was ready. Violet drew the lace curtains partly closed (but left enough space for light) and disrobed. The heat from the water left her with no chill to speak of. With a gleeful grin, she bunched up her hair and tiptoed her way inside. It certainly was hot, but Violet liked it. She sunk carefully into the steaming, sudsy water until finally, she was sitting up to her shoulders.

Violet let out a long, satisfied sigh, her entire body melting. The hot water dug into her skin, and her muscles loosened the tense knots they’d been clinging to for weeks now. Her aching feet were swept with relief. Already she could feel the grime of the open road start to peel from her skin. Once she’d had her moment to relax, Violet began to scrub. As the dirt was wiped off, Violet saw just how dusty she’d become. All this red, I might as well be Indian, she thought.

She’d only been in the bath for a few minutes when there was a knock at the door. “Might I come in?” It was a woman’s voice.

“You may,” Violet replied.

Ruby opened the door, closing it behind her quickly. She was dressed properly now, though her loose, devilish curls were still unkempt. In her arm was tucked a bundle of fabric Violet could not yet identify. She smiled, her lips re-painted for the day. “Enjoying your bath, Miss?”

“Yes’m,” Violet replied.

“Jimmy said earlier that you came in with Mei, is that right?”

“Yes’m.”

Ruby’s smile widened. “Isn’t there anything else you can say?”

Violet tucked her knees under her chin. “How’d you know Mei?”

“Well, that’s a bit of a story,” Ruby replied. “But the short version is pretty simple. She came in as a customer, she and her posse had skills we needed. We’ve since…ah-hem…exchanged services on occasion.”

Violet’s neck went hot. She doubted it was from the water. “What’s that?” Violet gestured towards Ruby’s fabric, desperately trying to change the subject. Ruby followed her eyes.

“Oh, this?” Ruby unraveled it, revealing a freshly laundered dress. It was clearly worn, but well-kept and modest. Ruby smiled. “Any friend of Mei’s is a friend of mine.” She folded it back up and set it on the stool beside Violet’s tub. “Figured you might want something clean to change into.” Her eyes lingered on Violet’s pile of dirty traveling clothes. “We can get those washed if you like. No charge.”

“That’s…that’s awfully kind of you, but I can wash ‘em myself.”

Ruby hesitated, but her smile never fell. “As you like it, Miss. Come on down when you’re finished and we’ll fix you up.” Ruby left Violet to enjoy the rest of her bath. Violet could feel the water growing cold.

It was nearly an hour since following Jim to the bathroom when Violet returned downstairs. The dress Ruby lent her fit surprisingly well. After days of wearing the same, dusty clothes, the clean cotton was a blessing. Violet caught her reflection in the mirror and wondered if she’d misjudged Ruby. She was clearly a good soul, and an ally of the Railwalkers. But Violet couldn’t help the unease around her. She recalled something her parson said when she was younger: “Accept the kindness of all strangers, but do so with caution. For even the devil himself was once an angel.”

Walking down, she saw that the sun was sinking lower beyond the saloon’s dirty window. Mei and Linus were sitting at a corner of the bar, speaking lowly to three women. One Violet recognized as Ruby, and all three were turned away from the staircase. The woman on the left had springy, blonde curls rivaling the gold of Mary Humphrey’s hair. The other was draped in a gentle, blue shawl, hiding her face and hair from the world. Rory was sitting at the opposite end of the bar, now enjoying a pickle twice the size of his face.

Mei glanced up as Violet approached, but said nothing to announce her presence. The closer Violet got, the clearer the conversation became.

“How did you do it?” the blonde woman asked. “Shot him? Strung him up?”

“Knife,” Mei replied. She tapped her throat, indicating where she had used it. Violet shook to a halt. They were talking about the murder of Mr. Munts. Violet’s boots were glued to the ground, her dirty clothes bundled tightly in her arms.

“Did he suffer?” the blonde asked again. Mei shook her head. Surprisingly, the woman sneered and leaned back on her stool, her elbow on the bar. “I was hoping you’d finish him off slow like. Really make him feel it.”

“Didn’t have the time,” Mei replied. “I barely got in and out of there before the whole town started howling.” Violet recalled that night in vivid detail. How terrified she felt, and how frantic she was running for help. She wondered why Mei had not told them about her involvement in the assassination. Truthfully, she was thankful for it.

Linus spotted Violet. He motioned her to sit on the stool behind him. Violet did so, wordlessly. Now facing the women, she got a good look at their expressions. Ruby was far more serious than she’d been an hour before. Her arms were folded on the bar, her red brows drawn above her tiny nose. The blonde woman, by contrast, had a pronounced, square nose and jaw, with a spindle, swan-like neck and shoulders. And the third—the woman with the scarf—had a face Violet was not expecting.

She had dark brown curls that were tucked haphazardly under her shawl. Her face was heart-shaped, and innocent looking. Judging by her big doe eyes, she barely looked a year past sixteen. And all along her soft skin were hideous, painful scars, less than a year old. They ran up and down her supple cheeks and gentle features. Tracing one scar, Violet could tell that whoever attacked her might have taken her nose clean off with a few more inches of pressure. One of her eyelids did not close properly, and Violet spotted the deep nick that ran down the middle of it and up through her eyebrow. Violet was also quick to realize one other detail: no animal was so clean. These cuts were made by a man.

The minute the girl noticed that Violet was watching her, she pulled her shawl up tighter and turned her head away. The others cast their eyes on Violet, but Violet barely noticed. She stared at the girl in the scarf, her mouth parting ever so slightly in horror. She hadn’t even realized that hot tears had clouded her vision.

“Did…did he do that?” Violet whispered.

Ruby and Mei glanced at one another, but it was Linus who answered her. He laid a hand on Violet’s shoulder, finally breaking her gaze. “Yes,” he answered solemnly. “He did.”

“You knew him?” the blonde asked. Her eyes were fierce. “He hurt you, too?”

Violet remembered Munts’ death. She remembered him grabbing for her. Ripping her dress, cursing her. She remembered how terrified she was, how helpless she felt. And then she remembered Mary…Violet’s head lowered and she shook it “no.” “Not me,” she said. “But…but a friend. He…He didn’t cut her up or nothin’ but he—”

“This is Violet,” Mei interjected. “She was from his town. Somehow or another, the damned lawman there got it in his head that she was the one who killed him. We figured she’d be safe here.”

“Of course,” Ruby agreed. She smiled at Violet with kindness. “Don’t you worry, honey. We’ll take right good care of you here.”

Suddenly, Violet was afraid for a whole new reason. Take care of her? Here? “I…” She looked to the Railwalkers helplessly. “I don’t wanna be no whore—!” she blurted out.

Ruby and the blonde noticeably soured and pulled back. Mei cleared her throat. “She’s a bit of a sheltered lamb, this one.”

“Hmph,” Ruby snarked.

“You ain’t gonna be no whore,” Linus explained to her. “But the saloon here could use a maid. Just a little cleanin’, that’s all you’d do. Wash the windows, sweep the floors. You’d get food and a bed and pay. It’s the best out of a bad situation.”

Violet settled down after that, but was still visibly shaken. But Linus was right; this was the best any of them could do. Hands in her lap, she nodded. “I understand. Thank you.”

Ruby dug into the pocket of her coat and laid an envelope on the bar. Mei slid it toward her and opened the flap, peeking inside. Violet’s eyes went wide when she saw the thick stack of notes inside. “That should be everything,” Ruby said. “Took us a couple of months to save properly.”

Mei handed the envelope to Linus, who tucked it into his inner vest pocket. “I trust you,” said Mei. “Now.” She knocked on the bar, and Jim slumped over to where they sat. “Whiskeys all around, Jimmy.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

As Jim began to pour their shots, the girl with the scarf left the bar. Violet watched her shuffle off to the stairway. Her heart bleeding, Violet stood to follow her, when Mei gently touched Violet’s wrist.

“Leave her,” said Mei. “She’s been in enough pain.”

“What is her name? How old is she?”

The blonde sighed deeply. “Beatrice is fifteen years old. Munts attacked her last May.”

Violet’s face fell dramatically. “Fifteen…” she breathed. “Fifteen and she’s a—”

“Family died of sickness when she was nine,” Ruby interjected. “Older brother went mad with drink, beat her until she finally took off. We got hold of her a couple years ago. Paid her to wash pots and scrub floors.” Her eyes shot up to Violet in a sharp jerk. “One day, she said wanted to make enough money to get to California. That meant tradin’ up to our line of work. It was her choice, hers alone.”

“She’s a child.”

“Think we didn’t know that?” the blonde barked back. “But she’s stubborn, that one. We knew that if we didn’t keep our eyes on her here, she’d find another place. Probably end up dead in the process. So we kept her here, and sorted through which ones she’d service and which ones she didn’t. Munts waltzed in one day, wanted her time. We all said no. I could tell in my bones he was trouble. So he broke into her bedroom and cut her up. But what sheriff would defend the honor of a poor little teenage whore?” She took her shot and downed it. “I hope the bastard rots in Hell.”

There was a deafening silence between them. It took a moment before Violet realized that Jimmy had poured a shot for her as well. Drowning in horror and sadness, Violet grabbed it without thinking and threw it back. It went down harsh, stinging the back of her throat like fire. Her eyes watered, but she forced it to stay. When Violet came up for air, she saw Mei suddenly smiling at her. Leaning forward, Mei tapped the bar top again.

“Another one here, Jimmy.”

The mood lightened considerably after that. Ruby and Barbara (the blonde woman) made a big to-do about Munts’s death, deciding to celebrate the occasion. As day turned to night, the gaslights went on, patrons stumbled in, and soon, the world was full of noise and pleasure. After the first shot of whiskey, Violet found that the next ones to come weren’t that difficult to swallow. Her head was lighter than it’d ever been before. Her body was warm and comfortable, and her smile was easier than it’d been in a long time. Someone dusted off the piano and filled the air with music. The girls sprang up like springtime daisies, leading patrons up the stairs, sometimes two or three at a time. As the night unfolded, Violet saw things through a giddy blur. At one point, Violet even danced to the tinny sound of the ivory keys. Throughout the night, she had shot after shot of whiskey, making her feel as light as a feather. In that evening, it was as though her troubles were long forgotten.

“Pardon me, Miss.” A gravelly voice caught Violet’s attention. She spun around, wobbling where she stood. The speaker was a tall man with broad shoulders and dark features. He smiled at her and held out his hand. “Care to dance?”

Dance? Violet loved dancing. Didn’t she just dance a moment ago? With a wide smile plastered over her face, she took his hand and followed him into the center of the saloon. He spun, twirled, and sashayed her back and forth. Violet laughed freely, her long hair bouncing around her face in wavy tufts. The man’s wide hand rested on her lower back, pulling her in close. “How much for an hour, darlin’?”

An hour? Of what, dancing? Violet narrowed her eyes, unable to fully grasp the question. “How much…? Free, I guess.”

The man’s eyes lit up delightfully. “Free? Well, ain’t that fine? I’ll have to take you up on that offer, miss.” A hand slithered down Violet’s back and rested on her posterior. Violet’s mind was slow to comprehend the situation, but before she could put her thoughts right way around, the man had brought her in dreadfully close, his rancid breath against her nape. “Most workin’ girls don’t give up nothin’ worth more’n a nickel out here…”

“Workin’…” Violet slurred and squirmed in his arms. “Workin’ girl…” Her face screwed tightly and she tried to weasel her way out of his arms. His grip was tight though, and he laughed gleefully at her struggle.

“What, you playin’ with me, girly? Wanna keep dancin’ first?”

“Offame—!”

“Offa what?”

First thing you want to do is aim for the nose.

With as much strength as Violet could muster, she thrust her palm upwards. It missed his nose entirely, but her hand connected square with his left eye. His head snapped back and he let go of Violet immediately. Violet tumbled away, nearly falling over. The man clutched his eye, shaken by Violet’s strike. “Why you lil’—” He surged forward, and Violet acted again.

If you can’t reach his nose, aim for his throat…

Violet launched her fist wildly forward. This time, she made contact with her target. The man sputtered and stumbled backwards a few feet, clutching his neck. Violet’s wrist was now sore with the aftershock, but Violet barely felt it. Despite both attacks, the man began shuffling forward again. Even with Violet’s blurred vision, she saw the absolute anger in his face.

…or you take your knee and wham.

Violet launched her knee up so fast, it knocked them both off balance. Her leg made contact, and the man let out a high pitched squeal. His eyes crossed, and his face went red as a fresh turnip. With one long, flimsy breath, he crumbled to the floor, curled into a ball. Violet, who had grabbed a table to keep herself from falling, looked around to gain her bearings. Just about everyone had stopped to see the commotion.

“Violet.”

From the foggy haze of Violet’s vision, Mei walked forward. Her hands held Violet’s shoulders, keeping her upright. Mei looked between the two of them. “Well…I think that about wraps it for you, girly. Let’s get you upstairs…”

But Violet stayed still for a moment. Cemented to the spot, she felt a strange wave overcome her. Color drained from her face as a vicious taste welled up her throat. Without any warning, Violet turned and tossed up every ounce of whiskey she’d had that night. From the floor, the man let out a scream and scrambled away, his shirt now covered in vomit. There were quite a few laughs around the room. Mei was not one of them.

“All right. Up you get. Let’s go.” With Mei’s gentle cajoling, Violet found herself on the top floor, swaying as if she were on a ship. She’d only ever been on river boats before, but recognized the bobbing sensation. If she wasn’t careful, she’d heave again, though she doubted if there was anything left. Mei walked her into an empty room and sat her on the bed. From that point on, images blurred in and out, like a fading dream. She felt her body pushed this way and that, felt a wet cloth on her lips and chin. She felt water slipping into her mouth, and her boots pulled from her sweating feet. Finally, the world rose up to greet her as she was tucked into a warm, comfortable bed.

* * * *

Violet woke up in a sharp, cold sweat. The entire world was pitch black, and she was completely unaware where she was or how she came to be there. Violet glanced at a cracked window of her room. The stars weren’t even out at this time; it must have been very early. Everything in her body ached, and she wanted nothing more than to fade back into sleep, but her bladder throbbed in protest. After forcing herself out of bed and using the chamber pot provided, she planned to roll into the covers and sleep until noon the next day. Before she could fulfill this wish, the sound of gentle giggling drew her away. Violet hesitated; whoever was enjoying themselves probably didn’t need someone listening in. But then she heard, very distinctly:

“Mm, Mei, don’t nibble at me too hard now…”

Violet felt like lightning struck her senseless. The giggling continued. She entertained the idea that should she roll into bed, she might be able to forget what she’d heard and write it off as a dream. However, in spite of her throbbing head and heavy body, she suddenly felt wide awake. Tempted by sin itself, Violet quietly moved to the door and held her ear against it. The laughter was coming from across the hall.

Violet gently opened her door and poked her head out into the hallway. One or two gas lamps were still lit, but slowly dwindling. Silent as a mouse, she flattened against the wall beside a slightly cracked door. Inside, she could see the orange of the burning wicks flicker against the walls. Bits of clothes were strewn about the floor like leaves. And faded in the amber light were two shadows, ever morphing and changing shape. Violet dared to slink closer, and eventually put her eye to the crack at the door.

Mei was on the bed, wearing only unbuttoned pants, suspenders flopped to either side. Ruby, completely naked, sat square in her lap. Their bosoms were flush together, Mei’s arms wrapped around Ruby like ivy. Harsh shadows contoured the muscles in those arms. Violet followed their trail with her gaze, noticing the way the tendons stretched and jumped with every movement. And Ruby, willowy and delicate, nested in Mei’s grasp like a jigsaw piece. Mei kissed Ruby’s shoulder, her long fingers clutching the supple skin of her rear end. It formed between Mei’s knuckles like rising bread. In a sudden, bizarre act, Mei actually slapped her behind. Violet jerked, shocked at the spanking, but Ruby didn’t seem to mind. In fact, it looked like she enjoyed it.

They kissed intimately. Mei’s hand went to Ruby’s red curls, and twirled her fingers deep within Ruby’s hair. Violet had seen and had plenty of kisses. None were so fearsome, so hungry. Violet’s throat was totally dry, no matter how many times she tried to wet it. Her knees knocked together beneath her dress, and her breath was sporadic and uneven. The firelight licked their naked bodies, as a painter’s brush would sway against its colors. A part of Violet knew that what she was seeing was undoubtedly wrong, yet she could not look away. Another, growing part of her did not want to look away. No…she wanted to join.

This thought scared Violet back into reality. Quietly as she came, Violet spun around and headed back into her room. Violet kept wide awake for the rest of the night, and stared at the window while she waited for the sun to slowly rise. At some point, Violet had closed her eyes and fallen into a dreamless slumber, but as soon as she had fallen asleep, she was shaken awake. Blinking, she looked around the room to find Rory staring at her. “Mornin’, Missus.”

“Good morning, Rory.” Violet sat up and rubbed her eyes. Before she could say anything else, Rory had launched himself into her bed and hugged her tightly around the middle. Violet blinked. “What’s this for?”

“What?” Rory looked up, his big eyes tearful. “I’m sayin’ goodbye. Ain’t you gonna come down and say goodbye to the rest?”

Goodbye? Violet looked to the bedside table. A small stack of bills and a simple revolver were neatly tucked away for her. Her heart sank miles. This would be the last day Violet would likely ever see the Railwalkers again. Violet brought Rory into a tight hug.

After she made herself presentable, Violet came down. The saloon had quieted considerably since the night before. Violet could see stains where her mess had been cleaned up to the best of its ability. Shamefully, Violet looked over to Jim, who was cleaning glasses behind the counter.

“Sorry about last night…”

Jim shrugged it off. “Ol’ Herb probably needed a lesson like that. Don’t you fret. Ain’t the worst thing I had to clean here.”

“Violet.” She turned to see Mei and Linus with plates of fresh biscuits and gravy. Linus pulled a seat out for her and she took it. A great hunger like never before overtook her and she dug into her breakfast like a mad beast. Linus chuckled. “You sure had a good night,” he remarked.

“I guess…It’s all a blur, really.” Violet wiped her mouth with the sleeve of her dress.

Mei grinned, chin in hand. “I’m mighty proud of you, you know. Used what I learned ya real quick. Why, give it enough time and practice and you could be one hell of a brawler.”

“Me?” Violet certainly remembered hitting someone. Her wrist was still sore.

“I’d sure say so,” Mei confirmed, nodding. “Might come in handy these days. Never know when you’ll need to kick up a row and skedaddle.”

Violet picked at her biscuits and gravy. “Don’t I need somebody to teach me?” she asked quietly.

Mei drank her coffee. “S’pose there’ll be someone ‘round here who could teach you. Ask Ruby; she’s one tough gal.”

Violet frowned immediately. “I don’t think I can learn much from her.”

Linus’s brows climbed his forehead. “Oh? What’s this harsh tone of yours so early in the morning? I thought sour Violet was all said and done.”

Violet opened her mouth to defend herself, but so many conflicting thoughts fought their way forward. “I just don’t see how much she can really teach me. She ain’t like any of you.”

“Now just hold up here.” Mei leaned forward, arms folded on the table. “A deal’s a deal. We ain’t stayin’ in some little dirt ball the rest of the summer just to teach you how to punch.”

“That’s not what I’m sayin’.”

“Oh really? Then what are you sayin’?”

“I’m sayin’—I’m sayin’—” Violet gripped her utensils tight. Her next words came out as suddenly as last night’s puke. “I’m sayin’ if I’m ever gonna survive out here, I can’t learn from nobody but someone like you. You’ve survived years, decades even. You’ve escaped the law countless times, you have connections to stay alive. You leave me now and I’m lost in the wind. How long until Sheriff Anderson comes crawlin’ over this place? A month? A year? Well, I got no doubt in my mind that no matter where you drop me, I’m about as good as dead. No little pea shooter is gonna protect me from armed marshals.

“I’m sayin’…that I want to come with you.”

Chapter 6

“Absolutely not.”

“Please at least consider—”

“I have. All that I needed to. The answer is still no.”

Mei burst from the front doors of the saloon, her sack of plunder on her shoulder. Huī was alert, and stood dutifully as Mei latched her effects onto his saddle. Violet rushed behind her, kicking up a cloud of dirt in her wake. She grabbed Huī’s bridle, keeping Mei from leading him away.

“I’ll earn my keep!” Violet bargained. “I’ll cook, I’ll do the washin’, I’ll even look after Rory.”

“We do our own cookin’ and washin’, and Rory gets along just fine without you.” Mei put her foot in the stirrup and hoisted herself up. Linus was taking a bit longer to ready his horse. Linus had kept his and Rory’s thoughts to themselves for the most part, their eyes avoiding the commotion. Mei tried to take the reins from Violet, but Violet would not relent. “Let go.”

“Why not?” Violet demanded. “Why not even entertain the idea?”

“You ain’t fit for our life,” Mei shot back. “One week or two, that’s all well and good, but we spend months on our own, doin’ our business. Business which, if I do recall, you have some strong feelings towards on a personal level.”

Violet shook her head. “I won’t get in your way, I swear! I’ll mind my own business and let you do yours!”

“It’s dangerous.”

“So is this!”

Mei finally yanked Huī’s reins away from Violet’s grasp. “This is the safest place for someone like you. You wouldn’t survive in our shoes.”

“Then teach me to walk in them.” Violet clung to Mei’s jacket, desperately. “There ain’t nowhere safer than by your side, learnin’ how to fight on my own. Really fight.”

Mei’s harsh face cracked only slightly. “Child…” Her voice was hollow and quiet. “You don’t know what you’re askin’ for.”

Violet took a deep breath. “Mei,” she began, “if you leave me now, you might as well have never saved me in the first place.”

The wind howled gently at their feet as dust wafted down the road like fog. Mei glanced at Linus, who now sat in his saddle, Rory in his lap. “Linus.” He looked up. “What do you think?”

Linus hesitated. Longer, perhaps, than Violet was comfortable with. He pushed up his derby with his thumb and scratched his dark scalp, pondering the question. “I think,” he began slowly, “that Violet has a point.”

Violet’s spirits leapt while Mei’s face fell. “You’re serious?”

“Yes,” Linus continued. “We’re about a few days journey straight shot from Redrock. We leave her here we risk her found out, even with the girls keeping her safe. We leave her anywhere in the country and someone might find out.”

“And so she’s so much better with us, is she?”

“Maybe not,” Linus admitted, “but maybe we’ll get to a point where we can go our separate ways properly. As it stands now though…Mei, how would you feel if we left and somethin’ happened?”

Mei ran her fingers through her hair, frustrated. “I don’t like re-negging on deals.”

“I know,” said Linus. “But maybe just this once?”

Mei took her time to think, her brows knit firmly. Violet lingered in suspense, her hand having left Mei’s jacket. She was, however, prepared to grab onto Huī’s bridle again should Mei say no. She had opened her mouth to speak once more when Rory beat her to the punch.

“Please, Mei? Can’t she stay with us just a little longer? I like Missus Violet.”

Violet was so moved she could have kissed him. Lo and behold, Rory’s tiny plea seemed to melt Mei’s steel resolve. With a deep, aggravated sigh, Mei waved her hand dismissively. “Go pack your things. We’ll talk details later. For now, we best be gettin’ on.”

“Yes, of course!” Violet was brighter than Christmas candles. She turned promptly and ran upstairs to the second floor. Rounding the corner, she screeched to a halt. “Oh!” Beatrice had just stepped out of her room with no scarf to speak of. Her hair was long, and curled all the way down to her waist. She stood there for a solid few seconds, like a spotted deer, before turning sharply back into her room. “Oh no wait—” Violet lunged forward on instinct and stopped her door before she closed it. Beatrice kept her face pointed away, trembling as she held the door. Violet lowered her voice. “It was Beatrice, wasn’t it? We weren’t properly introduced.” Beatrice shifted her head just slightly, so that Violet could see the outer contour of her baby cheek. “My name is Violet. And I’m…I knew the man who did this to you. And I’m awfully sorry.”

Cautiously as a newborn foal, Beatrice continued to turn until she caught the sparsest glimpse of Violet’s eye with her own. She kept as much of her obstructed as possible. “You knew him?” Her voice trembled.

Violet nodded. “Yes. And no. I never knew the horrible things he did until he tried doin’ them to me. Until Mei…” Her words died. “In any case, the Lord warns us against killin’, I’m sure you know that. But in this situation, well, I suppose I’m happy he’s gone. I’m happy he won’t hurt you again.”

Surprisingly, Beatrice breathed a short and bitter laugh. “He won’t hurt me again?” She faced Violet fully. Now, with angry tears in her eyes, Beatrice let Violet look over her scars. They were more horrible in the morning light than the dim sun of the afternoon. “What do you see when you look at me?” Violet couldn’t answer. “He did more than hurt me, he cursed me. I was so beautiful before. Boys would linger for hours just to get a look or two. And now? I’m a monster.”

“No, you’re no monster, Beatrice. Munts, he’s the real monster. And he’s paid for his crimes.”

Tears fell down Beatrice’s marred face, but her expression remained blank. “He could die a thousand times and it would never be enough. Excuse me, Miss.” Beatrice shut the door, and Violet heard the distinct sound of the lock from the other side. Her hand was flat on the outside of Beatrice’s door, debating whether or not to knock. So much of this reminded her of Mary, yet with an even greater tragedy. Once again, Violet was helpless as another woman suffered. She was sick of being helpless.

“Don’t take it to heart.” Violet spotted Ruby in the hallway. She was done up in a robe, her hair pinned messily to her head. Her face was clean of paint for once, and her eyes were earnest. “Best if we just give Beatrice her space until she heals. Not sure when that will be, of course, but…” Violet averted her eyes and made a line for her own rented room. Ruby stepped in front of her, pausing her path. Violet glared, and Ruby smiled. “What’s this? You wake up on the wrong side of the bed, sugar?”

“No ma’am. Just in a hurry.”

“What for?”

Violet tilted her head upwards. “I’ve got to pack and be ready. We’re leaving soon.”

“‘We’?” Ruby questioned. Her eyes were curious. “Now here I thought you’d be staying with us. New addition to our family and all that.”

“Plans have changed,” Violet said curtly. “And I weren’t never gonna be part of your family.” She pushed aside and opened her room door. Ruby followed, watching her every move. Like a wolf on the prowl.

“Pity,” said Ruby. “You would have done well here, I think. You’ve got the face for it.”

Violet rolled up her old clothes in a tight ball, tying her dress in a firm knot. “I’m not like you.”

“Oh? You seem fairly high and mighty about yourself, honey. I suppose you think dreadfully low of me.”

“Of your business.” Violet made to leave, clothes and journal tucked under her arm. “But it’s not our place to judge; that responsibility falls to the Lord.”

Ruby’s smile widened. “A pious woman.”

“As much as any other.”

“Then you must know who Jesus kept his company with. Whores, misfits, vagabonds, lepers. ‘Let he without sin cast the first stone.’ Isn’t that how the saying goes?”

“Excuse me.” Violet tried to push past, but Ruby gently put a hand to her shoulder, keeping her there. The sunlight glinted against her hazel eyes, making them hypnotic.

“You weren’t nearly this smart with me yesterday. In fact, I was hoping you rather liked me.”

“It don’t matter heads or tails what I like.”

“Mm.” Ruby raised her hand and gently touched a few loose strands of Violet’s hair. Whether it was nerves or pride, Violet did not move. “Now I don’t think that’s quite true.” Her lashes fluttered mischievously. “When Mei put you to bed, you was out like a drunk in a gutter. We were sure you’d sleep through the night. But I did find it strange that your door was open this morning. Don’t you?” Violet’s ears pounded. Guilt was written all over her face, and Ruby lapped it up like buttermilk. “Care to know what I think?” Her knuckles gently grazed Violet’s red cheek. “I think that what you like matters a who—ole lot to you. Am I mistaken?”

“Yes.” Violet pulled away, angry and ashamed. “You are mistaken.” Violet shoved past her and vanished down the stairway.

* * * *

It wasn’t long before they came up on Sitting Bear’s encampment. He’d made a fire by the bubbling pond they’d passed, and was just cleaning up when the others approached. When Sitting Bear turned fully, he spotted Violet among them and paused. His eyes asked his question for him. Mei sighed.

“We’re takin’ her a bit further,” she explained. “Trust me, it won’t be for long.” Violet frowned at her hands.

Sitting Bear made no protest, and instead finished packing up. Soon, they were out on the road again. Violet wanted to ask where they were headed, but Mei was still cross from that morning, and so she thought it best not to push her. Instead, she pulled to the back of the party, where she and Sitting Bear made up the rear. With nothing else to do, Violet first admired his horse. It was a brilliant, beautiful mustang, with caramel spots on its coat like clouds at sunset. Violet had tried to break a mustang once. It did not end well.

When she felt Sitting Bear’s eyes on her, she looked up. He had remained as stone faced as ever, and a deep, instinctual fear twisted in her gut. With the exception of the Railwalkers’ first appearance on that train, Violet had never seen an Indian in her entire life. She had heard stories, of course, and occasionally saw drawings in the newspapers or in pulp books that sometimes came through the grocer’s. Violet wouldn’t say she was afraid of Indians, necessarily, but she knew better than to go out looking for them. Or…she was supposed to know better.

“Something on your mind?” he said, his deep voice level.

Violet’s fingers tapped on the horn of her saddle. There was, truly, but there was so much on her mind to ask and be considered polite. So, she settled on one question to start. “How come you didn’t come with us into town?” Sitting Bear returned his eyes to the dusty trail, his long hair gently fluttering in its ponytail. Violet waited for an answer. And waited…and waited…Growing uncomfortable, she spoke again. “I’m sure you wouldn’t be run out or nothin’, not if you’re with Mei. They seemed to love her, so you come with us, you woulda been right as rain. Woulda had a bed and everything. Hot meal…” Again, Sitting Bear said nothing. “I just don’t understand why, if given the choice between a hay bed and a hard ground, one doesn’t immediately take the better option. Now Rory said somethin’ about ghosts, but you gotta know that those aren’t real, so why would you keep yourself sittin’ next to some hot pond?” She stared at Sitting Bear expectantly, whose expression never seemed to change. Violet was growing frustrated. “And why’re you so damn quiet all the time? Ain’t you got nothin’ to say!?”

“He’s got plenty to say,” said Linus from over his shoulder. “You just gotta give him time to say it.”

Violet blinked and rounded back to Sitting Bear, who remained as he ever was. But finally, with Violet quiet, Sitting Bear spoke. “I choose my words carefully,” he answered, “because I have seen the wrong words end in death.”

“Death?” Violet’s face fell. “Death of…of your family, you mean?”

Sitting Bear nodded solemnly, but did not elaborate. Linus slowed his nag until he was even with the other two. “May I?” he asked Sitting Bear. He nodded, and Linus continued. “Bear was raised on the Pan Handle with the rest of his tribe. They would go up to the springs to keep warm in winter. Most of the Caddo separated into Indian Territory and Texas, but Bear here was one of the few that managed to sneak around the white man to stay on their lands. When he was barely Rory’s age, maybe a little bit older, he—”

Sitting Bear’s hand raised. Linus stopped his story and nodded. Violet wanted to pry, but Linus had already moved on. “Short end of it is, Malvern holds a special place for Bear. There was a lot of blood shed to get that land.”

“To enter that town is an act of betrayal,” Sitting Bear clarified.

Violet glanced behind her. Malvern was already so far away from them, but she could still make out details of the tiny town. She tried to imagine how Sitting Bear felt, seeing it so different than it was. She tried to imagine Redrock taken over by strangers, and her family forced out of their home. She shook her head. “I can’t imagine…”

“None of us can,” Linus agreed. Sitting Bear remained silent. Violet considered leaving things where they were, but her own curiosity probed her forward.

“Still,” she continued, “is that really why you don’t talk none? I won’t do nothin’ to you. And the others, Hell, they’re as close as family to ya, ain’t they?”

As before, Sitting Bear took his time considering his options. “Usually when I wish to speak, I think first. By the time I am ready, the conversation has changed.”

That, for whatever reason, put a smile on Violet’s face. “Say, how’s about we pick up that game we were playin’ earlier, Linus?” Linus peered over at her, and Rory perked up immediately.

“Game?” He hoisted himself further up in Sitting Bear’s saddle. “I like games!”

“The questions game,” Violet clarified. “Who left off last, Linus? You? Me?”

“I believe you asked the last one,” Linus said. “Officially. Let me think now…”

“Oh, oh!” Rory flailed his arms. “I want one, I want one!” Violet laughed and agreed. “Uuum.” Rory tapped his chin. “What’s your favorite thing to eat?”

“Boy ain’t that a question!” Violet grinned. “I suppose it depends on what’s in season. When Christmas rolls around, Mama used to make these chocolate cookies. See, we don’t get chocolate much, so it’s a real fine treat.”

Rory’s eyes blazed. “Chocolate…” he repeated, dreamily. “I had that once.”

“Twice,” Linus corrected. “Don’t you remember our trip to Kansas City? You got yourself a big old piece of chocolate. Ate it all in one go and ached for a whole day after.”

“Oh yeah!” Rory smiled, proud of such an accomplishment.

“My turn now.” She lifted her head to Sitting Bear. “How’d you find the others?” This time, she prepared for silence as Sitting Bear readied his answer.

“I found three white trappers,” he said. “They did not kill their animals quickly. They were cruel, they tormented them. I tried to stop it. We fought. One man was shot by accident. I ran. For three days I did not sleep. They found me, and Mei found them.”

Linus was grinning. “Turns out, one of them was on our list. Right place, right time. Bear was so grateful he didn’t want to leave our side.” He readjusted his hat, smiling coyly. “Sounds a little familiar, don’t it?” Violet smiled nervously. Never leave their side? Well surely, Violet would be on her own eventually, wouldn’t she? Just when she was tough enough to manage alone…

“Hey.” Mei had stopped Huī and turned. She was a good twenty yards ahead of them. “Y’all get a move on. We’re burning daylight. Shake it.” The others obliged, and sent their horses into a trot, Violet included.

From there, they rode through most of the daylight. Violet noticed the heat bearing down through her hair as the sun hung high overhead. She only hoped they weren’t too far out west when summer hit. They settled on a small patch of grass an hour or so before sundown. Violet and Rory elected to fetch kindling for the night, while Sitting Bear cooked up some of their beans and veggies for supper. Linus and Mei scouted the area while they still had light. They settled in to eat just as the last bit of daylight slipped beneath the treeline.

“Mei?” Rory asked, mid-meal. “When do I get me a horse?”

“When you can break one,” Mei replied, scooping up a mouthful of beans.

Rory pouted. “That ain’t fair,” he said. “Linus didn’t have to break his horse none! How comes I’m the only one who’s gotta do it?”

“I’ve broken plenty of horses in my time,” said Linus. “Same as the rest of us. Once you can handle it, you’re ready to ride.”

“But I’m too little! And they’re too big!”

“Then I guess you ain’t ready, is you?”

Rory crossed his arms, frustrated, but Violet joined in on the conversation. “It ain’t that hard,” she told him. “I’ve broken plenty of horses. Shoot, I broke Maple when I wasn’t much older than you.” Maple, who was grazing behind her, flicked her ears as though she was listening in. “It’s all about gettin’ him to trust you first. You let ‘em get to know you, treat ‘em nicely, maybe a carrot now and then. Once he knows the bridle, the bit, and the saddle, then you’re ready to hop on and give it a whirl. Only real problem you should have is flyin’ off now and then. But with you bein’ so small, I don’t think many horses would object to your weight.”

“Will you teach me?” Rory pleaded.

“Well sure!” Violet agreed. “But I think it’s best if we get you a foal first. That way, y’all can grow up together, and he’ll trust you easier. Horses are a might finicky, so the more trust, the better.”

“Hm.” Mei propped her chin in her hand, a tiny smile on her face. “You sure are useful now and again, ain’t you?”

Violet flushed; she wasn’t sure if she should take that as a compliment or not. “Thank you,” she said. “Least I can do, I s’pose.”

Mei shrugged and finished her dinner with a few hearty scrapes of her bowl. As the meals finished, one by one, the Railwalkers went to sleep. First, Rory was put down, with Sitting Bear soon after. Violet, Linus, and Mei remained awake, occasionally chatting or listening to Linus’s mouth harp. But soon enough, only Violet and Mei remained up. They sat across the fire from one another, which was slowly starting to dwindle. The smoke plumed above them, vanishing into the deep blue night. The embers seemed to fly into the heavens to become stars themselves. It was peaceful.

“It ain’t cause I don’t want you. I hope you know that.” Mei’s words snapped Violet out of her thoughts. She blinked and stared at Mei through the tips of the flame. Mei sat with her Winchester flat in her lap, elbows on her knees. She didn’t seem the least bit tired. “Why I objected to you comin’ with. You’re a nice girl. Nice enough, anyway. It’s just that this life…” Mei blew through her lips, scratching the back of her head. “This life’s got its fair share of horrors. Nice girls shouldn’t never be a part of it.”

Violet pulled her knees to her chest. “‘Fraid I ain’t got much of a choice in the matter.” They exchanged smiles.

Mei cracked her neck and leaned back on her hands, staring up at the stars. “There’s an old Chinese saying I used to hear growin’ up. ‘If you save a man’s life, you are responsible for it.’ Never quite knew what it meant. After all, if you save someone, what more do you owe them?”

Violet looked away, her heart tightening. “Nothin’, I reckon…”

“I used to think so,” Mei agreed. She lifted her head and stared at Violet until she caught her attention. “Then I met you. And boy, do I understand it now.”

“You do?”

Mei nodded. Lying flat on her back, she kept one knee propped up, and laced her fingers against her chest. “We’ll start you off small. How to throw a punch, how to take a hit. We’ll go from there.” She turned to Violet. “I give it one year. One year, and I can teach you everything you need to keep yourself safe. After that? My responsibility to your life is over and done with.”

A bittersweet joy swelled in Violet’s breast. She nodded in thanks. “Sounds good to me,” she said. Violet laid along her bedroll (Mei’s, specifically. She didn’t seem to use it much) and stared at the stairs. “Thank you, Mei. Good night.”

Mei paused before rolling onto her side. “Goodnight, Violet.”

The morning came the minute Violet closed her eyes. Even as she rolled out of bed there was meat on the skillet and coffee bubbling in the pot. Violet rose quickly and immediately offered to help, as usual. That morning was brisk, with a thick layer of dew along the grassy fields. Now in the soft light, Violet could see for miles. Trees spotted the land like patches of uneven fur on some great beast, and beyond those trees, a river glistened in the sun. As good as breakfast smelled that day, Violet found that she had no real appetite. Excitement had filled her stomach, and so there was no room for anything other than coffee. For there was one detail that Violet dared to admit only to herself.

Her night in Malvern was fuzzy at best. But the more she thought, the clearer those memories became. She remembered the way that man had grabbed her, the stink of his sweat and the alertness in her gut. Closing her eyes, she could recall the incident step by step, including just how good it felt to reel back and knock the bastard to the ground. Her wrist, admittedly, was still a bit sore, but it was a kind of pain that Violet wore proudly. Mei was right; Violet just might have a knack for this sort of thing.

They traveled a few hours, dipping in and out of thick woodlands, but mostly following the bank of a river. The day went from chilly sharpness to warm humidity by the time noon rolled around. Violet could tell, as she wiped the sweat from her brow, that summer would show no mercies.

While she was deep in thought, she felt something plop down on her head. A piece of fabric was now draped just above her eyeline. Confused, she turned. Mei was riding next to her, and had placed a scarf atop her head.

“You need yourself a hat,” she pointed out. “You’ll get burned to a crisp out here, a fair girl like you.”

Violet quickly tied her hair into a sloppy knot and wrapped the scarf around her head. The pounding heat of the sun instantly died off. “Maybe next time we hit a town,” she mused. “After all, I got me ten whole dollars to spend, don’t I?”

Mei chuckled easily. “Yes, I suppose you do,” she agreed. “Gonna get your hands on a fancy lil’ bonnet? All done up with lace and ribbon?”

Violet sneered. “Well, wouldn’t that be a fine sight? You three all rough from the road, and me with some silly girl’s cap? I’m gettin’ me a proper hat, yes ma’am. One that don’t tear up after a few months of wear. Nice, firm brim to keep the sun out. Say.” She cocked her head to the side. “Where are we headed anyhow?”

“Van Buren,” Mei answered. “It’s a might risky going around Fort Smith for us, but we got us a contact there. We’ll lay up, maybe collect a job or two, then be on the move again.”

“Hm…” Violet stared out into the wilderness. Mei noticed her vacant expression.

“That don’t seem to satisfy you,” she pointed out.

“No…well…I don’t know.” Violet shifted in Maple’s saddle. “I suspect we’ll only be in Van Buren…how long? A day, maybe?”

“Just about.”

“But where are we really headed?” Violet pried. “Is this all y’all do? Go from place to place, doin’ jobs? No home to go to, no family?”

Mei fell to silence. She focused on the road ahead of them, her own hat keeping her face dim with shadow. Yet there was a reflection of the red earth in her beetle black eyes. “Mostly,” she finally said. “We got a few places to stake our claim, especially in winter. Summer and spring, we mostly concern ourselves with work. As much as we can to hold us until the thaw.”

“But there’s gotta be something to this life of yours. Some kinda goal in mind, an end plan. You can’t tell me you’ve been doin’ this for at least ten years with no end in sight.”

“We have an end,” said Mei.

“Well? What it is then?” Again, Mei gave no answer. Violet edged Maple forward and blocked Huī’s path. Violet frowned seriously. “One year,” she said. “That’s what you told me. Well, while I’m in your company, I don’t want no secrets. I ain’t no afterthought.”

“You don’t expect me to just spill myself to you, do you?” Mei snapped. “Girl, I ain’t friendly with the best of people, let alone someone who’ll be gone from my sights come next spring.”

“Then at least tell me where we’re headed,” Violet pleaded. “You don’t gotta tell me why. I just want to know.”

Mei sighed. Turning Huī, she continued on the dirt path. “California,” she answered, passing Violet. “For what we know currently, that’s where our end is. California.”

“California…” Violet followed close behind, staring off into the sky. She had heard of California, seen paintings and drawings of it, but could never truly imagine what it might be like. For some, it was the land of milk and honey. For others, it was just another opportunity for death. “You been there, I remember you sayin…”

“Oh yes,” said Mei. “Plenty of times.”

“What’s it like?”

Mei smiled slightly. “Big,” she said. “Bigger than anything else you’ve ever seen, next to Texas. Stretches of land for miles and miles, with nothin’ but dust and shrubs, and the vultures waitin’ to pick you off on a hot day. Then you go up north just a few miles, and there’s trees and mountains as far as the eye can see. Mexicans had it for so long, there’s all these buildings and whatnot scattered around. Strange lookin’ things. Some of ‘em are made from mud.”

“Mud?!” Violet exclaimed. “How’d they even stay upright?”

“That’s just it,” Mei explained. “This mud gets hard, it ain’t goin’ anywhere. Strong as brick, some of it.”

“But what if it rains? Then what?”

Mei paused in thought. “I…don’t know, myself. I’ve never seen one in the rain. But they’re nothin’ compared to the cities. I remember the first time I saw San Francisco. There were so many buildings in so many colors…I thought I was dreaming.”

“Will I see it one day?”

Mei hesitated. “Who knows? We often find ourselves in surprising places in life.”

Violet smiled off into the distance. “I should like to see it one day,” she said. “Tell me. Have you seen the ocean? I saw it only once when I was a girl, back in Georgia. Mama took us out on a day trip to the beach. It was so beautiful…I should like to see the ocean again, too.”

“Yes ma’am,” Mei said with a nod. “Saw it first when I was young, younger than you, in fact. All my life I’d never seen water so vast. As a child I had nightmares that one day it’d swallow the Earth whole.”

Violet lit up and edged forward, eagerly. “When you were a child?” she asked. “Did you see it with your family?”

Mei’s face went blank almost immediately. Her eyes were unreadable, and set like stone in front of her. “We should camp soon.” She kicked Huī swiftly and galloped further up past the rest, taking lead of the other Railwalkers.

By the time camp was set up, they had little under an hour of daylight left to cook and scout. So far, their luck had been plentiful with keeping them away from travelers and wandering eyes that might cause them trouble. Violet wondered, as she helped peel potatoes, just how long their luck would last.

Mei, having properly scouted the area, returned with Huī and dismounted, letting her nag graze freely with the others. She approached the roaring camp fire, removing her gloves with each step.

“We’re about a mile east of Ouachita. We bank north after we clear the lake, and we can ford both rivers in a day.”

Linus looked up from his whiskey. “Bank north? We’ll hit Danville if we bank north.”

“Not necessarily. We head north east of here and we come to the pinch in the two rivers. We’ll pass Danville by nightfall, easy.”

Linus was not pleased, but gave no argument and sipped his whiskey. Violet, distracted from her kitchen work, rested her peeler on her knee to speak. “What’s in Danville?” she asked.

Linus grunted. “Not every city welcomes the likes of us with open arms,” he said. “We gotta keep tabs on which ones would rather hang us on sight than show us hospitality.”

Violet blinked. “Really? But the sheriff back in Little Rock didn’t know you was Railwalkers. I’m sure no one would know you on sight.”

Mei and Linus exchanged amused glances. Even Sitting Bear looked up from his skillet. Mei pulled her hat from her head, letting it hang by its strings. “Child,” she said, “it ain’t who we are that gets us run out of town. It’s what we are.”

“What? That don’t make sense…”

Linus actually snickered. “Places like Danville don’t take kindly to a chink, an Injun, and a nigger walking into a good, Christian town.” He watched as Rory waddled into camp with his arms full of kindling. “Most of ‘em wouldn’t even look twice at a filthy little Mick, neither.”

Violet sat in silence, slightly slack at what should have been obvious. Of course most places would naturally turn them away, no matter how much money Linus waved about. “I s’pose not…” Why did she feel so shocked? “I guess I’d been with you for so long, I forgot y’all weren’t white.”

“Convenient for you,” Mei said, tossing her gloves to the ground. “Sadly we are deprived of such luxury.”

“Why do you think we spend so much wherever we go?” Linus added. “Even when we are served, we’re expected to pay just a bit more than the white patrons. It’s our color tax, one might say.”

Violet frowned at her hands. “That…That ain’t right. You can’t help the way you was born.”

“No,” Mei agreed, “but such is life. Now finish with them taters and get yourself ready. We only got so much daylight.”

Brighter at the change of subject, Violet quickly peeled her last potato and dusted herself off. Mei had already removed her hat, waistcoat, and belt. Eagerly, Violet stood in front of her. “Now first thing’s first. Show me your stance. How’d you hold yourself in a fight? Go on.”

Awkwardly, Violet shifted for a few moments before putting up her fists, as she’d seen the Redrock boys do on occasion. Mei walked around her and began to move her arms. “Don’t lock them elbows, you’re likely to break bone if you get hit wrong. Your feet are too close together, too. Spread ‘em just a bit. And bend your knees…That’s it, just like that.” She laid her hands on Violet’s shoulders, squaring them slightly. “You never want to lock up. That’s the first rule. You keep yourself loose, you’re able to move away easier.” She returned to her spot and straightened her posture. “All right.

“Hit me.”

“Hit you?”

“Hit me.”

Violet sputtered. She looked at Linus, who was grinning over the top of his tin cup. She turned back to Mei, who stood waiting. “But I…I can’t—I don’t want to—”

“You won’t hurt me,” Mei assured her. “Promise. Now come on, Violet. Take a swing.”

Violet gave a few helpless glances over at the camp before launching her fist wildly forward. Mei side-stepped it easily, her hands behind her back. “You gotta aim first,” she said. “Try again. Go for my chest.”

Violet took a breath and punched again. Mei pivoted back, making Violet miss a second time. “Lord, girl, are you trying to hit me or court me? Try again.”

“I wouldn’t miss if you kept still!” Violet snapped.

“You think some drunk bastard is gonna stand there and let you beat him down?” She held open a flat palm. “Here. Punch right in here.”

Violet reared back and finally connected her knuckles to Mei’s palm. Before Violet could pull away, Mei grabbed her fist and yanked her forward. “Too soft,” she said. “And when you throw a punch, don’t put your thumb inside your fist, or it might snap clean in half.” She let Violet’s hand go and once again put her own behind her. “Again.”

With her anger getting the better of her senses, Violet bared her teeth and threw a sharp, right hook. Mei tilted her head, avoiding it easily. Violet tried again, and again, and again. Each and every time, Mei dodged and weaved with no effort. Soon enough, Violet was snorting like an enraged bull, while Mei kept cool and collected. “Too slow. You won’t land nothin’ if you can’t read who you’re fighting. Predict where they’re goin’, lead the shot, and then take it.”

“How could I possibly know what you’re thinkin’?! This ain’t fair!”

What happened next was so fast, if Violet blinked, she wouldn’t have seen it coming. One minute, Mei was standing still, her hands behind her back. The next, her fist was flying, and a punch landed square in Violet’s jaw. At first, Violet didn’t feel the pain, just the shock. She spun about and fell to her knees, hair flying every which way. Her hands were flat on the ground, throbbing in pain after such a harsh landing. Eyes wide, her breath was choppy and sporadic. After a few moments of stunned silence, pain began to blossom up her cheek. Her eyes burned with tears, which she quickly tried to blink away. She’d been spanked before, but never hit, never like this.

Mei walked around and knelt in front of her. Tilting her chin up, she observed what Violet assumed was a fresh bruise. “The second rule,” she said quietly, “is knowing how to take a hit.” Mei’s thumb raised and gently pushed away a tear. “If you don’t know the pain you’re causing, you can’t control it. And you shouldn’t be causing it.” She turned. “Linus. Bring me some of that fire water, wouldjya?”

Linus approached with the bottle of whiskey in one hand and an empty cup in the other. He screwed up his face in disapproval. “Little harsh for a first lesson, ain’t it, Mei?”

“If she wants to fight, she’ll learn it properly. Which leads us to the third rule.” Mei poured a glass of whiskey and handed it to Violet. “Nothing fixes up a sore jaw like a little who-hit-John.”

Violet stared at the offered drink, and Linus sighed. “Mei, go easier on her. She’s not used to—”

“It’s fine, Linus.” Sucking up her tears, Violet reached for the whiskey with trembling hands. She took a deep sip, and resisted the immediate urge to spit it back up. She took a steadying breath. “No man’s gonna go easy on me. It’s best I learn the right way.”

Mei smiled, a glimmer of pride in her eyes. “Exactly,” she said. “But I think we’ll stop for now. In the morning, we’ll start you off bright and early.”

* * * *

Violet fell to the dirt for what felt like the hundredth time that morning. The sun was barely up, and already she was drenched in a fine layer of sweat. Her shirt was spotted with unsightly wet splotches, and her hair was constantly threatening to fall loose from the knot behind her head. Lying flat on her back, she stared into the slowly brightening sky, dazed and throbbing. Mei leaned over her, having yet to break a sweat. “How’re you feelin’, Violet?”

“Downright wretched,” Violet admitted. “Like I got a hundred forks dug into me.”

Mei offered Violet her hand and helped her to her feet. Violet teetered, holding her hand for perhaps longer than necessary as she regained her balance. By now, the rest of the camp was waking up, and getting ready for breakfast. Mei handed Violet a towel. “That’s it for today. Go clean yourself up.” Nodding, Violet wobbled over to the edge of the river. In her dim reflection, Violet was pleased to notice that she only had a slight bruise on her jaw. That morning, Mei had kept any punches away from Violet’s face, and instead landed hits on her abdomen, arms, and chest. Even so, Violet was delicate with the cloth, careful not to irritate the throbbing further.

During breakfast, Violet was overcome with both hunger and lethargy. She shoved the pork cuts into her mouth as fast as she could muster, and was already aching for a nap before she’d finished half her plate. Rory, his own mouth full of food, wiped his greasy lips on the edge of his sleeve.

“Don’t that hurt?” he asked, staring at the purple kiss on her chin.

Violet nodded solemnly. “You bet your bottom dollar it hurts. I feel like my head’s been swapped out for a beehive.” She eyed Mei over her plate of food. “How long you think it’ll take for me to land a hit on you instead?”

Mei sipped her black, bitter coffee. “You’re the only one who can answer that question, friend. But you’re just about the stubbornest gal I’ve ever met. You’ll get there some day.”

Packing up was quick, and they were on the road before mid-morning. Violet had allowed herself to close her eyes on occasion, letting the rocking of Maple give her rest enough to cool off from the day’s training. She only opened them again when the party came to a halt.

“We should water our horses here,” came Sitting Bear’s voice. “The rivers are a risk.”

When Violet opened her eyes, she saw before her the most curious lake she’d ever seen. She and the Railwalkers were standing on the water’s edge, graced by the early noon sun. But rather than retain a flat, glimmering horizon, Lake Ouachita was spotted with small islands, covered with brush. The land around it curved in and out like massive lumps and snaked down a wide canal into a river base. Violet looked on in awe, unable to tell where the massive lake ended. The Railwalkers dismounted, breaking Violet out of her daydream, and led their horses to the lake’s edge. Violet followed suit.

“It’s beautiful here,” she said.

Linus nodded in agreement. “It’s a fine stop for us whenever we pass through. No settlements for miles, easy places to keep out of sight…” He pet his horse’s mane as its gray, spotted snout dipped into the surface of the water and drank deeply.

Violet smiled, and gently pet the horse’s flank. “What’s its name?” she asked.

Linus smiled. “This is Ginger,” he said proudly. “Won her off a drunk Easterner down in Texas. Fella never noticed the ace up my sleeve the whole game.”

Turning, Violet frowned immediately. “You cheated to get her?”

“It’s only cheating if you get caught,” Linus answered casually.

“No,” said Violet. “It’s cheating if you’re cheating.”

Linus’s smile only grew wider. “So you reckon I should just give her back then? After five years?”

Violet opened her mouth, but closed it quickly. With a huff, she turned to Maple and rubbed her neck. “Y’all ain’t got one moral bone in your body.”

“Damn skippy,” Linus replied. “We might be out of work, otherwise.”

Violet shook her head, but didn’t press the issue. She supposed if she was going to live with the Railwalkers for a whole year, she’d best get used to their lifestyles. That, however, she knew would not be easy. Violet led Maple to the lake and let her drink deeply. She knelt down and splashed water on her own face, wiping away some of the dust from that morning’s trail.

“Missus Violet, Missus Violet!” Rory rushed over towards her and landed on her back. Violet swayed, momentarily threatening to fall forward, but quickly recovered and held him by his legs. She smiled over her shoulder.

“What is it, Rory?”

“Come with me!” Rory sang. “I wanna show you my favorite spot!”

Violet agreed without hesitation. Leaving the horses to drink, Violet followed Rory as he skipped into the forest eagerly. They went deeper and deeper into the thicket, the pine trees closing quickly around them. Rory, being much smaller than Violet, had no problem with the narrower path, but Violet quickly fell behind. She tried to keep up with the sprightly ginger, but the faster she ran, the more often her skirts caught on brambles and branches, slowing her down. The brush soon began to scratch against the skin of her legs above her boot tops, and she nearly tripped once or twice over a particularly large protruding root. The third time, she did trip. A round tree root, sticking a foot off the ground, caught her ankle and sent her flying forward. She braced herself with her hands, but found the fall much softer than normal; the foliage around her created a soft, spongy landing that bounced her to the side. When she looked up, Rory was gone.

“Rory?” Violet stood and brushed herself off. Her body, still aching from that morning, was now heavier than lead. She pushed her hair from her sweaty face, trying to peer through the thick layer of tree trunks. “Rory!” she called again. “Rory, this ain’t fun!” Far to her left, she heard a rustling through the bushes. Violet sighed deeply and turned to track the noises down. “Rory, don’t you go playin’ games on me, boy, I will tan your hide!” A phrase borrowed from Mrs. Donovan. However, when she located the sounds of the noise, it was not Rory she found.

Two trappers, head to toe in furs and skins, stood over a snared fox in a small clearing. One of them, whose hair was a wiry, salt and pepper gray, was holding an old musket. The other, a short, squat fellow with a face full of wrinkles, was the first to notice Violet. He blinked, his watery eyes not seeming to register Violet at first.

“Ey, Pa.” He nudged the older man with his elbow, and they both caught sight of Violet quickly. The silver haired trapper narrowed his eyes, as if to make sure that what he saw was real. Violet, who had since grown weary of strangers—especially men—grew stiff and silent as the two looked her over.

“Well now.” Pa whistled through his teeth, what few he had left, and folded his arms on the barrel of his musket. “You lost there, missy?”

“She looks scared,” said the short one. “And she don’t look too good, neither…Was you attacked by a bear or summit, ma’am? Are you hurt?”

Violet trembled. She opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out. Neither man moved forward with any threatening gesture, nor did they grin at her with the dangerous eyes she’d come to fear. And yet, despite their obvious ambivalence, Violet was glued to the spot.

Pa, noticing her trepidation, handed the short man his musket and held out his hands, as if to show Violet that he held nothing else. “Easy now,” he said. “We ain’t gonna hurt you none. Where’s you from, miss? If you need help, there’s a town not too far from here. We got plenty o’friends in Danville.”

“And they gots a Wells Fargo there, too. Just got it!” the short one added helpfully. “They can send a telegram wherever you need to send it! Why just last week I sent me a message to my cousin who’s all the way out in Mexico! Can you believe it? Mexico!”

“All right, Jed.” Pa gently pat the short one’s shoulder. “Let’s not go exciting the poor thing.” Pa turned back and took a gentle step forward. “Miss, you look like you need a warm fire and some hot food. Why don’t you come along with us and we’ll get you somewhere safe?”

“Oh I—I really don’t…” Violet slowly backed away. Her mind, once blank, was now running faster than a train with all the horrible scenarios these two could bring to the group. Danville, Violet thought. They’re from Danville. The conversation from the night before rang truer than a church bell, and Violet imagined the kind of reaction these two kindly men might have if they saw the likes of Mei or Linus. Were these the type of men who would shoot Sitting Bear on sight? Violet imagined a mob of angry townsfolk, torches and pitchforks held high, ready to hang all four of Violet’s new friends.

I gotta protect them.

“Violet? Violet!” From nowhere, Rory burst into the clearing, twigs in his fiery hair. He grinned, cherry-cheeked and full of energy. “There you are! C’mon, we’re so close—!” Rory turned and spotted the two trappers, and fell silent. The color drained from his face, and he hid his smile in an instant. Violet was reminded of the night they met by accident. Out of sheer instinct, Violet reached out and brought Rory in close, holding him in front of her like a mother would protect her child.

Pa trapper looked down at Rory with a curious eye. “Who’s this?” he asked.

“This…this is my brother,” Violet responded. “And I—I thank you kindly, sir. Really I do. But we’re just fine on your own.”

“On your own?” Jeb repeated. “All on your own?”

“That’s right. We do right well for ourselves.”

“Hm.” Pa trapper pursed his lips, his silvery mustache bristling in thought. “Miss…are y’all Irish?”

Most of ‘em wouldn’t even look twice at a filthy little Mick, neither.

Violet looked down to Rory, who looked up in return. His big, fawn eyes were worried, and Violet’s heart bled. How many times had some cruel woman turned Rory away from food and shelter just by looking at the color of his hair? How many children had seen his freckles and spat on his skin? And how many wounds did Rory have to endure from the hatred alone before finding his real family? Violet squeezed Rory’s arms and looked Pa trapper dead in the eye.

“Yes, sir. We are Irish.”

“Mm.” Pa trapper put on a serious expression before shrugging. “Well, no matter. Mrs. Hawthorne’s Catholic as they come. Might have to find space for you in the barn though, so long as you keep yourselves clean. We’re not a liquor drinkin’ family, just to be warnin’ ya.”

Such passive callousness boiled Violet’s blood. Sleep in the barn? When otherwise they might have been offered beds and a fireplace? No liquor? Why should that matter? Why should any of it matter? All this show of kindness, yet it was wrapped in condition and judgment. Sugar on a salt lick. For as furious as Violet was feeling, she might as well have been Irish.

“No thank you,” she said curtly. “I told y’all. We’re just fine by ourselves.”

“Aw come now,” said Pa trapper. “No need to put on a brave front for us, missy. We’re only tryin’ to further the Lord’s work.”

“You ain’t furthering anything today, mister.” Violet turned Rory sharply and took his hand, leading him into the trees. With grit teeth and without a glance back, Violet finished with: “Good day, sirs. Thank you again.”

Violet walked Rory for quite a while. Neither said a word. Violet had no idea where they were going—in fact they might have been traveling in one, massive circle—but Violet was too blinded by anger to pay any attention. And just imagine, she thought to herself, that this ain’t nothin’ compared to what the others go through. Skin ain’t nothin’ but skin! Hair ain’t nothin’ but hair! God ain’t nothin’ but God! So why?! Why why why?!

Violet stopped walking once she fully realized that they were going nowhere. She looked left and right, trying to remember where it was they came from. She was broken from her concentration, however, by a sharp sniffle at her knee.

Turning, Violet saw Rory rubbing his eye, red faced. Tears were muddy on his gentle features, and his ears were as hot colored as his hair. His tiny hand shook in Violet’s own, and he tried desperately to calm his crying.

Seeing Rory weep, Violet immediately went to her knees before him. “Rory…Oh, Rory, baby, I am so sorry…”

Rory shook his head frantically. “Not—not cryin’!”

Violet furrowed her brow in confusion. “You’re not?” she said gently.

Again, Rory shook his head. “No! B-boys d-don’t—men d-don’t cry! I ain’t—!”

With a deep sigh, Violet pulled Rory into her lap. Her warm arms encased Rory like a protective blanket. Curled into a ball, he sobbed gently against her chest. “Darlin’…of course boys cry. There’s no shame in that. Men cry, too.”

Rory hiccupped. “L-Linus said boys d-don’t—”

“Well…” Violet pushed back Rory’s bangs and wiped away his tears. “I guess Linus don’t know everything, does he?” She waited patiently for Rory to collect himself. When he did, they sat there for a while, quietly, and let the sounds of the forest wash over them. Though Violet could think of no particular song, she hummed quietly, letting Rory lay against her breast in silence.

“Missus Violet?”

“Yes?”

“Why’d you get so angry?”

That surprised Violet more than anything. “Why’d I…? Rory, the things that man said, they weren’t right. People say hurtful things about people they ain’t. I’m just finding that out now, and it’s…Well, I’d say it makes me mad. Madder than anything I’ve ever been mad about.”

Rory sniffled and wiped the snot away on his over-sized jacket sleeve. “What’d he say?” Rory stared at Violet innocently. “I was more scared he was gonna find Mei and Linus and Bear. And then you got angry…”

Violet’s stomach dropped. “Oh…Rory, did me getting angry upset you?” He stared at his lap and slowly nodded. Violet pulled him in for another hug. “I’m so sorry, sugar. I’ll do my best to control my temper from now on. I promise.” Rory was silent and still, nestled gently in Violet’s arms. But after minutes had past, he finally moved. Something had caught his eye.

“Violet,” he said, “we’re here. We’re at my favorite place.”

Violet looked up to see that they had stopped in a small glen, crowned by thick ferns. A tiny sproutling of a tree grew ambitious, colorful leaves. Violet could almost see tiny buds of fruit beginning on the thin branches. Next to it, dead center in the clearing, was a small ring of mushrooms of varying girth and size. Violet stared at it curiously, having never seen mushrooms grown in such a way. Rory, his mood dramatically improved, hopped out of Violet’s lap and held out his hands, presenting the glen proudly.

“What d’you suppose makes them mushrooms grow like that?” Violet stood and walked towards the circle, but before she could step inside the ring, Rory flung his arms out in front of her.

“Stop!” he cried. “Don’t walk into it!”

“Why? Is there somethin’ bad in it?”

“You’ll upset the fairies!”

Violet took a moment to process Rory’s warning. “Fairies,” she repeated. Rory nodded solemnly, and Violet put her hands on her hips. “Now where’d you hear such stories? Don’t tell me Mei spun ‘em to ya.”

“No ma’am! It was Grammy!”

“Grammy? Who’s Grammy?”

Rory grinned widely. “She’s a sweet old lady. When it gets too cold, we go see her, an’ she lets us sleep in this empty cabin she owns out on her land. And she’s Irish, too! She told me all sortsa stories ‘bout how fairies are all over forests an’ everything. But this—” He gestured to the mushrooms. “—this is their circle. You don’t never step into their circle. They can be mean old things, Grammy says.”

“Oh?” Violet smiled and sat in front of Rory, hands in her lap. “Can they? I always thought fairies were nice little princesses in leaf skirts.”

Rory shook his head, his orange locks flailing around his face like feathers. “They play tricks on ya if you ain’t nice to ‘em. Sometimes, they steal away children who don’t mind. Gotta leave ‘em little gifts and such. Keep ‘em friendly like.”

“Is that so? Now I reckon you brought along a gift for these fairies today, didn’chya?”

“Yup!” Rory dug into his front pant pocket and pulled out a tiny tin canister. It looked like an old tin of tobacco, cleaned out. “But today, it’s gonna be from both of us!” Excitedly, he opened the lid and showed Violet a portion of their strawberry jam. Capping it, Rory set it at the edge of the fairy ring, placing it just so along the dirt. He turned back to Violet, brimming with glee. “Wanna guess what my first gift here was?”

“What was it?” Violet smiled.

Rory pointed to the sapling nearby. “A peach pit!”

After that, she and Rory plucked flowers to add to their fairy offering, as well as gathered nuts and wild berries (of which Violet did not recommend eating this time). After a small pile had been collected and arranged properly, Violet and Rory headed back to the horses, hand in hand. When they arrived back by the bank, the others were already saddling the horses to move on. Mei spotted them first.

“There you are,” she said. “C’mon, let’s get to it.”

Packed up again, the Railwalkers set out north, leaving the lake behind. Before it vanished from sight, Violet glanced back one last time before the edge of the trees slipped over the horizon. She wondered if those trappers were still there, or if they were heading back home for the day. The sun was dipping low, and the day stretched into the late afternoon by the time they reached the first river. They found the shallowest part easily and waded through single file. Crossing to the other side of the bank, Violet eyed their surroundings. It didn’t take long for her to spot a small town just on the edge of the second river.

“We should go five miles out before stopping to camp,” said Linus. “Stop any sooner and we might come across unwanted visitors. Stop any later and we’ll have no light to set up.”

“Agreed,” said Mei. “Let’s find the shallow bank in river quick and put them five miles between us. Hyah!” With a sudden kick to Huī’s ribs, Mei went flying towards the snaking creek. The rest were quick to follow suit. They were at the river’s edge just by sundown. Mei scanned the water.

“Hm.” She frowned, dissatisfied. “Too deep here. We may have to go east a bit.”

But Sitting Bear shook his head. “This feeds into a bigger river,” he said. “We have no luck crossing there.”

“Maybe we could make camp somewhere else?” Violet suggested. “Then we’ll cross in the morning.”

“Too risky,” Mei countered. “River boats like to cross these main streams. Makes for a good trade route.”

Violet turned back to the water. It was wide, certainly, and rushed far stronger than the previous river. The skies were turning steadily orange; they had very little time to decide. Without another word, Violet urged Maple forward into the stream.

“Violet? Hey—!”

Violet gave the others no mind and continued onward. The cold water crashed up around her ankles, and soon her thighs. It was a steep drop off under the surface, and Violet could feel Maple struggling to stay upright. But after a moment or two, Maple settled, and began easily paddling her way forward. Violet grinned and turned back to them. “It’s fine!” she said. “It ain’t too deep!”

They exchanged glances, looking both surprised and even a little impressed. Linus was the first to join, and Ginger paddled behind Maple with ease. Sitting Bear and Rory were next, followed finally by Mei. By then, they were in the center of the river, and neck deep in water. Sitting Bear kept their food supply raised above his head while Rory sat on his shoulders and helped. Linus and Mei did the same with their guns, trying to keep them from water damage. Violet grinned to herself, proudly. She turned back to the others and called out: “Nearly there!”

One moment, she was reveling in her new-found pride. The next, an undercurrent had caught her leg awkwardly, and she was thrown off Maple’s saddle and tossed underneath the water’s surface.

Up was down, down was up. Violet tumbled and tossed beneath the water, dizzy and caught by total surprise. She scrambled, her arms and legs flailing to get to air. When her head broke through the top of the water, she was given only a brief second to breathe before being tugged down once again. Violet caught a glimpse of the river below. It was far, far deeper than Violet thought it was, with reeds and fish twisting along the river’s belly. Had she seen such a setting in a painting, Violet would have stopped to admire the beauty.

She tried again reaching the top, but the weight of her skirts and boots were dragging her down deeper into the water. In desperation, she threw off her shoes and tried to find the buttons of her dress behind her shoulders, all the while kicking madly to reach the surface. Great plumes of bubbles left her mouth like smoke from a chimney. She yelled out of sheer instinct, but all that left her was a muffled cry that no one would ever here.

And then, with a hollow splash the surface of the water broke into an explosion of white. Mei, devoid of boots, hat, and gun, swam towards Violet with the speed of a bullet. Her long, luscious hair bled against the water like spilled ink, and her arms pumped mechanically and with purpose in every stroke. Violet stretched for Mei desperately as she approached. Soon, those strong arms wrapped tightly around Violet, and with great strength, Mei launched them upwards and onto the dry bank at the other end of the river.

Violet fell to her hands and knees and coughed up water. She gasped for air, her sight blurry from the excitement. Once her head had stopped spinning, Violet rolled onto her back, and stared at the orange sky above.

Mei, panting heavily herself, leaned over Violet on an elbow. “Are you all right?” she asked, her black hair stuck to her face and neck. The amber light glinted along her figure, and shone like gold against her skin. Violet, for a moment, had no answer. Along with the relief of being alive, there was a new wave of emotion that swept Violet away as easily as the undertow.

Mei looks like an angel.

“Fine…” she finally said. “I’m…I’m fine.” Violet pushed herself up to sit and saw that the others had made it to the other side as well. Violet suddenly shivered, as if just now realizing how cold she was soaking wet. Mei went to retrieve a blanket, but found to her dismay that they were all wet.

“Let’s keep moving,” she said, mounting Huī. “The faster we get outta sight of Danville, the sooner we can build us a fire and warm up.” Violet was quick to agree. Soon, they were off again, riding deeper into the darkness of the early evening.

They did not get as far as they would have liked before Mei called for them to stop. With the sun fully gone, she and Violet would risk pneumonia if they didn’t dry soon. So, the Railwalkers found a pair of trees to hang a line on, and then worked quickly to build as big a fire as they could muster. Violet instantly took refuge beside it, and wrung out the water in her dress and hair. Even with the help of the fire, Violet was chattering with cold, and held her arms tightly to stave off the chill.

Mei, also soaked to the bone, sat beside Violet. Most of her clothes were drying on the line, including her woolen socks. She sat in only her trousers, and her soggy wet shirt, which stuck to her skin in blotches of water. Pulling out their flask of whiskey, Mei took a deep swig and then handed it to Violet. “Drink,” she said. Violet hesitated. After their night in Malvern, Violet wasn’t exactly keen on drinking again. “Drink,” Mei repeated. “It’ll warm ya up. Or didjya want to freeze to death in the springtime?”

Reluctantly, Violet took the flask and knocked back a bit of the whiskey. Violet nearly choked as it went down, but she kept her stomach and handed it back. Admittedly, she was already feeling a bit warmer after just one sip. “Thank you, Mei.” Mei answered by drinking again.

Violet, bootless and shivering, held her feet and hands to the fire. It crackled gently, and Violet could feel the blood return to her fingers and toes. “I’m sorry,” she finally professed. “If I hadn’t been so foolish I…Well, we wouldn’t be wetter than two ornery cats, now, would we?”

“I guess not,” said Mei. “Still, if you hadn’t acted so quickly, we might still be between them two rivers. Or worse, someone from Danville might have spotted us.” She took a third sip and handed the flask to Violet. Violet didn’t drink immediately.

“Mei. Back at the lake, me’n Rory…” She hesitated and then turned to look at her. “Two men found us. Said they was from Danville. Thought I was in trouble, tried to offer me a place to stay.”

“Did they? You tell ‘em who you were?”

“Course not…” Violet took a second sip, which went down easier than the first, and handed back the flask. “First it was only me. I didn’t know what to say, I was so scared. Not that they did nothin’ to me, but a girl learns from her mistakes, don’t she? Well then they saw Rory. Saw his hair, and all them freckles, and thought we was both Irish.” Her brows furrowed. “Bastards said we should take the barn back home, with that bein’ the case. Why I was so mad I coulda spit.”

Mei chuckled. The passing of the flask continued. “Imagine that,” she said, amused. “What’d you tell ‘em?”

“Told ‘em we were just fine on our own, thank-you-very-much.” Violet took another drink, deeper this time, and handed the flask back off. She was feeling much warmer now, and crossed her legs to sit more comfortably. “I didn’t never understand such opinions,” she admitted. “Back home, Charlie was my best friend.”

“Charlie?”

“My mama’s maid. We had her from the moment we stepped into that house in Redrock. I love Charlie, love her with all my heart. In fact…” Violet dug through her coat, and found her soggy leather journal inside. Pulling it apart, she laid it next to the fire, letting it dry. “The men mentioned somethin’ about a Wells Fargo in Danville. I think if we come across one ourselves, I’d like to send Charlie a letter.”

“Do as you wish,” said Mei, leaning against a rock. “Just be sparing with your details.”

“Right, right.” Violet leaned back on her hands. Already she was feeling the fuzzy, delighted warmth that she now knew came with drink. “I wonder how she is…”

“Hm. Tell me about her.”

“Mm?”

“Charlie. Tell me about her. What’s she like?”

Violet beamed and laid flat on her back. She stared at the stars above, as she’d done for many nights, and watched them twinkle while she recalled her fond memories with Charlie. “Always told me the best stories. Stories she knew growin’ up on a plantation. She was a slave, y’see, and was freed after the war. Came out here to find work.” Violet eyed Linus. “Bit like our boy here.”

Linus, who was drying his shirt and waist coat, chuckled lightly. “I wasn’t never no slave,” he said. Shirtless, he sat by the fire and Mei offered him the flask. He took it gratefully. “My family ran from the plantation few years before the war. Mama was pregnant with me at the time. Don’t remember them early years too well. I remember food was scarce, I remember cold winter nights. But I was always told: ‘Linus, now you listen here. We don’t got us a lot of food, or a lot of money, but we got us freedom. And that’s worth more than I can ever put a nickel to.”

Violet rested her head on her arm. “Your mama sounds wonderful.”

“She is,” Linus agreed.

“If she was free by then, how come she went back to the masters after the war?”

“Well…” Linus pulled out a carving knife and began to sharpen it on his leather belt. “At the time my family escaped the plantation, slavery and near starvation was the only real options. Once my pops learned that they was hirin’ old slaves to work for money, he knew it’d be a better life. Or he thought it would be.”

Violet stared into the sky solemnly. She tried to imagine the hardships Linus and his family would have encountered, but honestly, she didn’t know if she could ever really comprehend the struggle. She felt strangely inadequate when sympathizing with such plights, and some part of her, however wrong it was, wished that she had gone through what Linus had, just to understand his story better.

“Wait a minute…” A sudden thought struck Violet and she sat up, turning to him. “When was you born?”

“In 1859.”

“But…No, wait, that ain’t right.” Linus looked confused, but Violet continued. “The first time I ever saw y’all, you were grown adults!”

“And when’d you see us?” Mei asked.

“In 1874! You broke into a train when I was only ten myself. Dragged a man away.” She began to count on her fingers. “You woulda…You musta only been—”

“Fifteen,” said Linus with a nod. “Left home at thirteen, remember?”

“Fifteen!? That’s so young!”

“Younger suffered worse than I,” Linus said. “I couldn’t afford to be no child, bein’ who I was with where I came from.”

Violet rounded to Mei. “And you?”

“And me what?”

“How old were you then?”

“In ‘74?” Mei tapped her chin. “Oh, I reckon I musta been…Sixteen? Seventeen?”

Violet was winded. “All this time I thought y’all were grown. You weren’t much older than me that day! Hell, you ain’t much older than me now!”

“In years, yes,” Linus agreed. “In experience? You’ve got yourself a long road to walk.”

“Next thing you’re gonna say is Sitting Bear was only twelve!”

Mei snorted and craned her head over to where Sitting Bear was preparing the stew. “Hey Bear! How old are ya?” Sitting Bear looked up from the stirring pot, thought a moment, shrugged, and went back to cooking. Mei rounded to Violet. “Pretty sure he wasn’t twelve.”

Violet went back to lying flat on the ground, her arms and legs splayed wide. She could still feel the cold on her skin from her damp dress, but the whiskey led her not to care. Minutes passed like seconds, and before she knew it, Violet was handed a hot bowl of soup and a mostly dry blanket.

“Might wanna get out of them clothes,” said Mei. “We can’t afford none of us getting sick.”

Suddenly, Violet was awash with embarrassment. She looked around the campfire, as if to ask if she would have to disrobe in front of the men. Mei seemed to pick up on her worry and stood, setting her stew aside. “Here,” she said, “we’ll go off somewhere private.” Violet breathed a sigh of thanks and followed Mei into a small crop of trees. It was far colder away from the fire, which incentivized Violet to be done quickly. Mei, with her own blanket under her arm, seemed to have the same idea. “Let’s make this fast now.” Mei began to peel the wet clothes off her body without trepidation. Violet at least had the decency to turn her back.

The wet clothes fell to the dirt with a stunted whap. Leaves and dirt stuck to Violet’s feet, and her hair was mangled still with river water. Once she was bare as the day she was born, Violet wrapped the blanket around her quickly, and pinched it closed. Mei had done the same, though her actions were not as urgent as Violet’s.

Walking back to the fire, the men had stripped down as well, and were now in spare trousers that had been drying on the line. All except Rory, who had wrapped himself up in a blanket, same as the ladies. Soon, the clothes line was so full, and some nearly touched the ground. Hopefully they’d be totally dry by the morning. Finding a comfortable spot, Violet balled up and ate her dinner.

The soup warmed her better than the whiskey. While scarfing down a spoonful of carrots and salted meats, she made a mental note to eventually ask Sitting Bear for his recipes. None of his food ever tasted like anything she was used to, and she loved it. The five of them sat around the fire, eating, drinking, and warming themselves up. Soon enough, Violet grew drowsy, and finished her stew with two final gulps.

Violet drifted in and out of sleep for most of the night. Despite her full stomach and the help of the fire, she was never completely warm. She wrapped herself tighter and tighter into her blanket, until it had nearly covered her from head to toe, and yet there were still cold spots here and there. She woke up in the dead of night—or early morning, she felt—to teeth chattering and cold sweat on her forehead. The fire was long since out, and only tiny embers remained in the ash. A tiny wisp of hot breath floated into the moonlight, visible from the cold. Even with the current season, the night was freezing. Violet bundled up tighter, her knees pulled to her stomach underneath the blanket, but it did little to help. Her teeth knocked together, even when she shoved into the blanket like a turtle. She tried blowing in her hands to warm them, but it did little to help overall. Finally, out of desperation, Violet poked her head out and whispered.

“Mei…Mei…”

“Mm?”

“I’m freezin’. Don’t we got another blanket?”

Mei shifted in her own blanket, looking much like a mass of earth rumbling from a quake. She sniffed and lifted her head, sleepy and cherry-cheeked. “Drink more…” she mumbled.

“Where’s the whiskey?”

“It’s um…” Mei looked around, but in her lethargy, found no flask. “Well tan me, I don’t know…Maybe I drank it all…”

“Damn…” Violet ducked back down, continuing to chatter. “Might freeze to death at this rate.”

“You ain’t gonna freeze. Here…” Standing upright, Mei slouched her way over to where Violet lay and settled behind her. Violet felt a burst of heat that had nothing to do with the new bodily warmth. What made it all the worse was Mei finagling their situation until their blankets were covering them both. Which was to say that now there was absolutely no barrier of decency between the two naked women. Violet didn’t feel a lick of cold anymore.

“There…” Mei kept her eyes closed, head pillowed on the crux of her elbow. “Now go to sleep.”

Go to sleep? Violet thought frantically. How?!

Violet never had a sister to bathe with. She’d seen another woman’s body on occasion. When they were younger, she and Mary had to change out of their Sunday clothes in Violet’s room because Eustace had gotten them thick with mud. But she’d certainly never been in such close proximity to another person’s nakedness. And in such a situation! Two men and a boy slept merely feet from where they lay. Imagine what the others would think if they saw them together?

She fucks girls.

Violet kept her hands tucked underneath her arms at all times. She felt her chest quiver with nerves, and kept her legs wrapped tightly around one another. Her blood pumped like hot iron, spreading liquid fire to every part of her body. Violet at first kept her eyes down between them, staring at the darkness of their blankets. But, with them being so close together, Violet’s eyes eventually fell to Mei’s face. Her own eyes were closed softly, yet there was an ever—present crease in her brow that didn’t fade, even in sleep. Her hair was wild from the night, and stood at odd angles in the moonlight. Examining her skin, Violet saw faded cuts and scrapes from years of adventure. In the daylight, Violet noticed the sun kiss of her skin, the dirt in her nails, the cracks in her lips. But under the silver moon’s frost, Mei looked much like a porcelain statue, the natural pink of her lips contrasting perfectly with her ivory face.

“You’re not sleeping.” Mei’s eyes cracked open.

Violet’s face burned like a brand. She tore her gaze away. “Sorry.” Trying to save herself the shame, Violet turned away and stared instead at the empty fire pit. She could almost feel Mei smiling behind her.

“What’s got you so ruffled?” Mei said quietly. “You’re warm, ain’tchya?”

“‘Course I’m warm.” Too warm, maybe. “I just ain’t never…”

Mei inched close behind her. Her hot breath tickled the hairs on Violet’s neck. “You ain’t never what?” she teased.

Frustrated and tingling, Violet shoved the blanket over her head and resumed her cocoon. “G’night,” she snapped.

Mei chuckled softly. Violet heard her shift until she had turned completely around. “Goodnight, Violet.”

* * * *

The first thing Violet felt that morning was warmth. Warmth and comfort in a way she hadn’t felt in some time. It reminded her half-sleeping mind of her mother’s embrace as a child. It enveloped her, her body relaxed in its safety. For a while, as her mind woke up, her body stayed still, enjoying the feeling. But the longer she lingered, the more things she began to notice. For example, what she was laying on was no bed or pillow she’d ever felt before. And it was breathing.

Violet’s eyes snapped open. The first thing she saw was a slowly undulating, creamy collarbone. Black hair spilled down and around a neck, which Violet was nestled deeply into. Violet was still, unable to comprehend what she was seeing for a moment or two. Slowly, she looked up. Mei was fast asleep, her lips parted just so. For a while, Violet just stared. She wasn’t sure what she should do in such a situation. That’s when she noticed her arm draped just beneath Mei’s breast. Slowly, she slid it away, and inched to the edge of the blankets. Mei remained asleep.

It was barely sunrise. Not even embers remained in the fire pit now. Linus, Sitting Bear, and Rory seemed to have the same problems Violet did, as were all three bundled up together in one heap of cloth. Rory was on top of both of them, mouth wide and loudly snoring, his arms and legs tangled in the covers. Taking the opportunity to dress, Violet pulled the top cover from where Mei slept, wrapped it around herself, and went to the clothing line. Her dress was dry enough, though quite cold. Violet had no choice and put it on anyway. She proceeded to grab what was left of their kindling from the night before and start a fire for their coffee.

One by one, the Railwalkers woke up and began to dress. Violet kept her eyes averted from Mei the entire morning, hoping she was unaware of Violet’s indiscretion. Either to save her the humiliation or for lack of knowing, Mei never mentioned it, and the day began as usual.

As bacon sizzled on the skillet, Violet took a walk around the grounds to stretch her legs (even though she still had no boots to speak of). It was a beautiful, sunny morning. The dreaded coldness from before had washed away, leaving only the warm sun. Violet led Maple a few yards off, letting her graze periodically. The grass was plentiful, and came up to Violet’s knees. She paused to admire the landscape, wondering just how far she was from home.

Violet was so lost in her own mind that she did not notice a man approaching her on horseback until he was within twenty feet of her. Violet snapped up, her hand tightening on Maple’s reins. The rider had on a wide brimmed hat, and spurs jingled on the back of his boots. He wore leather chaps that marked him as a cowboy, and a lasso hung on his belt. Violet noticed, as he got closer, that he came from the direction of Danville.

“Mornin’, miss,” he greeted, his brown steed slowing to a trot. He tipped his hat in greeting. Violet remained blank. “You lost?”

“No sir.”

“Where’d you come from then?”

“Nowhere special.” Violet hopped onto Maple, and turned her, prepared to head back to camp. The cowboy, however, had other plans. He edged his horse forward, blocking her path.

“Just a minute here.” His hand, without permission, reached out and took hold of Maple’s bridle, keeping her still. Violet glared. “You can’t just go off when a man’s talkin’ to ya. It’s impolite.”

“Well, maybe I’m just an impolite person,” Violet answered. “Now if you excuse me—”

“Mr. Travers and his son mentioned that there was a lost Irish girl roamin’ around near Lake Ouachita. That wouldn’t happen to be you, would it?”

“What’s it matter either way?” Violet snapped. “Now kindly let my horse go.”

The cowboy did not oblige. Instead, he inched just a bit further. He was neither hideous nor handsome, with a simple face and features. Even this early in the morning, Violet could smell the stink of sweat from under his sleeves. He eyed her bare feet and the tattered edges of her dress. “You sure you ain’t lost, missy?”

“Sure as sugar.”

“Why not come back with me for some hot food and hospitality? Might even get you a new pair of shoes while we’re at it.”

Violet was growing impatient. “No thank you,” she said, tersely. She tried yanking Maple’s reins away, but the cowboy continued to hang on. “Let go…I said let go!”

“Now what kind of man would I be if I let some poor, pretty thing off on her own? Miss, you could get hurt or worse. Let me help you.”

That was when Maple began to teeter, nervously shifting from leg to leg. The cowboy’s horse also started to stir as the air grew thick with discontent. Violet continued to pull the reins, but the cowboy did not relent. In fact, he smiled, as though her attempts at freedom were a game to him. As though she was adorable for trying to deny his offers. Seeing the glint in his eye, Violet wouldn’t be surprised if he fancied her a future bride. Poor lost Irish girl, saved by a dashing cowpoke, only to be found with no family, and thus convinced to marry into a life of work and obedience. The thought fueled Violet’s anger, and she pushed the cowboy’s shoulder roughly.

“Hey now!” The cowboy’s smile dropped. He grabbed her wrist tightly. “T’ain’t nice, pushin’ folks around like that! What’s wrong with offerin’ a little help anyhow?!”

And then, she saw it. He twisted ever so slightly, letting the sun bounce off its silver handle. A holstered six shooter lay idle on the cowboy’s belt, totally unattended. With her free hand, Violet grabbed it quickly, cocked the hammer, and pointed it straight between his eyes.

“Let. Go.”

The cowboy’s face dropped. Slowly, he released both Violet’s wrist and Maple’s bridle. Violet was steady, even though her heart beat faster than any drum. Somehow, she retained her composure, and kept her aim dead center the entire time.

“Violet? Are you—” Mei’s voice caught her attention, but only for a moment. Violet didn’t dare look away for too long. Mei, with Huī in tow, approached the scene casually. Her Winchester sat threateningly on her shoulder. “Well now. Good morning to you, friend.” She directed her greeting to the cowboy, who stayed still and silent. Mei then turned to Violet. “Everything all right?”

“It will be,” Violet responded. Keeping the gun fixed on him, Violet backed Maple up somewhat, and Mei mounted Huī without issue. A lazy smile sat on her lips, and she leaned forward on the horn of her saddle. Her gun remained at the ready, and she kept her eyes on the cowboy.

“You might wanna leave now, son,” she said.

Violet could see the color in the cowboy’s face flare in anger. But when presented with two women with guns, it was clear who would win if such an issue arose. Turning back to Violet, he spat furiously at the ground, turned tail, and rode off. Violet kept the gun upright until he was far enough away. Only then did she realize she’d been holding her breath. “We should go,” she said. “He might come back.”

“He might,” Mei agreed. With a wide smile, she slapped Violet’s shoulder proudly. “Let’s hop to it.” As they left to rejoin the others, Violet could not shake the bright smile on her face. Never before had she felt so powerful. Staring at the gun, feeling its weight, she knew she had found a turning point to her life.

Things would never be the same.

And Violet was fine with that.

Chapter 7

Violet had never been so sore in all her life. The road to Van Buren was at least four days’ travel, and in between riding for miles on horseback, Violet had taken up daily training with Mei. Morning after morning, Violet was tossed around like a sack of flour. Bruises appeared in places she didn’t even recall getting hit. She sweat more than she ever thought she could. Her hair, which once drifted on the wind so easily, was soon nothing but a bother, and clung to her sweaty neck as extra weight. By the second day, Violet had taken to tying up her hair in a knot, just to spare herself the heat. But it was not all sweat and love-taps. In between tenderizing her like a piece of meat, Mei took time to teach Violet technique and discipline, as well as some unspoken rules for any scrap. “Keep your back turned to a wall.” “Crouch low when cornered to either run or kick out their legs.” “When in trouble, break a bottle.” “Never make the first move.” Mei had so many rules, Violet took to writing them all down. So, even though Violet had three full days of being thoroughly wrung out like a wet wash rag, she felt that she was at least learning, however slowly.

On the third day to Van Buren, Violet sat down for supper with creaky, heavy bones. She was handed a tray of biscuits and gravy, and had half the plate wolfed down before the others barely started. Linus stared with a vague smile.

“Lord above. Way you eat, you’d think we starved you.”

“Sorry,” Violet panted in between bites. She shoved a full biscuit in her mouth and chewed sloppily. “Um fus fo fungrr.”

Linus snickered. “Mind tryin’ that one again?”

Violet swallowed the massive wad of food. “I’m just so hungry,” she repeated. Scooping up the rest of her plate, she shoveled it down in a hurry, having abandoned manners some time ago.

“Don’t tease her, Linus,” Mei said. “Violet’s been puttin’ in plenty of work lately. Probably more work she’s ever done, ain’t that right?” Violet nodded, licking her fork. She was no stranger to work, of course, but training to fight was far different than polishing silver or shoveling a stable clean. Mei, despite what she said about not teasing her, watched Violet decimate her supper with amusement. When she had just about done everything but eat the plate itself, Mei scooped up another biscuit and a piece of chicken with the ladle. “Seconds?” Violet eagerly held out her plate. “You fit to go another round tomorrow morning?” It was a question Mei repeated every night since agreeing to teach her.

“You bet!” said Violet, pulling back the full plate. She dug in, but slower this time. “Am I doin’ any better?”

“A bit,” said Mei, “but you got some ways to go before you can kick up a fuss. You keep that in mind.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means, I don’t want you doin’ nothin’ stupid till you’re ready to handle yourself.”

Violet huffed, her plate on her knees. She poked at one of her biscuits with her fork. “I ain’t stupid. I know better than to pick a fight.”

Instead of berating her, Mei smiled wider. “I know you do. But I don’t want you thinkin’ you shouldn’t call for help if you get yourself in a scrape. That pride of yours will do you in if you ain’t careful.”

“Pride? I ain’t that prideful!”

Linus laughed. “Oh yes you are,” he chimed in. “Prideful and stubborn to a fault.” His eyes flickered to where Mei sat. “Course, you ain’t the only one…”

Mei’s smile dropped instantly and she cocked an eyebrow. “Beg pardon?”

“Oh, nothing,” sang Linus.

Finishing his plate, Rory wiped his mouth on the back of his sleeve and yawned widely. He set it aside to be washed in the morning and burrowed into his bedroll. “How much longer?”

“Not long,” said Mei. “We should make Van Buren by dinner time if we wake up early enough.”

Violet glanced over at her leather journal. “Say…does Van Buren have a Wells Fargo, you think?”

“They sure do,” said Mei. The tin of tobacco and rolling papers were on her knees, her dinner finished by now. “In fact, that’s usually Linus’s first stop.” Linus nodded in confirmation. “Why? Got somethin’ you want to send? You mentioned somethin’ before.”

“Possibly.” Violet opened her journal and flipped through a few blank pages. “Though I dunno if it’s safe to do so. I don’t want anyone trackin’ us down or nothin’.”

“Figger that’s your choice to make.” Linus laid flat on his bedroll, hands behind his head. He stared at the stars, the firelight dancing on his wire-frame glasses as he removed them to sleep. “We won’t be there longer’n a day. Chances are, by the time it gets to where it’s goin’, we’ll be long gone ourselves.”

“So you think it’s safe?”

“I do,” said Linus. He tilted his head a bit, putting Violet in his sights. “And I think it’d do your family good to hear from ya.”

“How’d you know I was gonna send word to my family?”

Linus closed his eyes. “What else would you be sending?”

Mei lit her cigarette. Sitting Bear and Linus laid down to sleep. Rory was already knocked clear out and snoring. With quiet settling along the campsite, Violet took out her journal, opened to a blank page, and put pen to paper.

She stared at it for a very long time.

“Havin’ trouble?” Mei asked finally, watching her.

Violet hesitated. “What do I even say?” She turned to Mei, hoping for answers. “I tell ‘em my real situation, they’ll probably be more worried than they were before.”

Mei took a long drag of her cigarette. When all that was left was the nub, she tossed it into the fire. Tilting her head up, she blew a sharp stream of smoke into the air. It reminded Violet of a locomotive’s chimney. “You could just tell them you’re safe,” she said, a last bit of smoke leaving her nostrils. “That you found folk you can trust, and they’re keepin’ an eye on you. It ain’t a lie.” Violet returned to the page. Her hand was limp for quite a while, but eventually, the words found themselves.

Mama and Charlie,

My want to write this has lingered for weeks. Or is it years? Time seems meaningless now. I wish to see you again, but this letter may have to do.

I am safe. This life is so strange to me. I wish I could explain it in a way that would not twist your heart, so I will refrain. Know only that I have found friends, and they have sworn to protect me. I trust them.

No matter how tempting, do not write back. I do not stay in one place for long these days. Know that I love you both. One day, I may return home. But it cannot be soon.

I shall write when I can,

Love,

V.

Violet ran it over again and again in her head, trying to imagine her mother reading it to Charlie with a tear-stained face. Her heart pained, and she shut the journal. She could not stand to think of their pain and worry. If anything, she hoped that the letter would ease their agony.

It felt as though Violet had barely gotten any sleep before she was roused by Mei just at dawn. As per usual, Mei had gotten up early to boil them some coffee. Mei drank hers black, while Violet loaded her tin cup with spoonfuls of sugar. The rest of the camp was sleeping soundly.

“All right. Let’s get on.” Mei walked them away from the others so as not to disturb them. She rolled up her sleeves, her hair already braided. “You ready?”

“Yessum.” Violet finished tying her hair into a knot and squared her shoulders. Her fists were at the ready. With a nod, Mei planted her feet square in the dirt. Taking a few shallow breaths, Violet punched.

The first few missed, as usual. Mei often started their training weaving in and out of Violet’s punches like a sewing needle. It both infuriated and amazed Violet to see Mei move so nimbly. Then again, recalling her actions during their escape from Little Rock, Violet supposed she shouldn’t have been surprised. After nine or ten missed hits, Mei began to hit back. First, when Violet threw a right hook, Mei caught her fist, mid-air, and twisted her arm. In a sudden strike, Mei used her free fist to make contact with Violet’s ribs. Even though she knew that this was not Mei’s full strength, Violet nearly crumpled.

Mei let her hand go, and took a step back. “If you can, always try and stop ‘em first before making a move yourself.”

Violet nodded, rolling her shoulder. She tried punching again. Mei knocked away her arm and landed a flat-fisted punch in the middle of Violet’s chest. Violet coughed and reared back, sweat pouring down her face and neck. Violet shook it off and settled back into her starting pose. Mei held out a hand, cautiously. “You all right there, girly?”

“Finer than cream gravy,” Violet gasped. She wiped her forehead with the back of her wrist and put her hands up once more. “C’mon, let’s have it.”

Mei smirked and sent a punch into Violet’s left side. As Violet reeled, Mei sent another one directly into her gut. Violet was short on breath, her bare feet slipping in the dewy mud. In a split second, Violet caught a glimpse of Mei pulling back for a final hit. Adrenaline pumping, Violet sent a wild fist flying to hit Mei before Mei hit her. This time, it finally landed.

“Christ—!” Suddenly, Mei yanked back, both hands on her left breast. Violet stood, dazed, her knuckles still in the air. With Mei’s cheeks bright red, she looked up and yelled, “You punched me in the damned tit!”

Violet stood still and speechless for a moment. “S-sorry—” She held out her hands instinctively to help, but Mei waved them away.

“No it’s…” Mei sniffed and stood straight. Her hand still cradled her bosom. “It’s fine…It’s fine.” Suddenly, Mei smiled. “That’ll win ya somethin’ fer sure.”

Mouth slightly agape, Violet chuckled shortly. “Well…I finally got a hit on you, at least.”

“Yeah, you sure did.” With one final rub, Mei pat Violet’s shoulder, her smile wide and warm. “I think that oughta call it for today, don’t you? Time for breakfast.”

“Yes ma’am!”

Before long, they were off. Just as Mei predicted, the town of Van Buren rolled onto the horizon sometime around noon. They elected to continue onward rather than stop to eat, and reached the edge of town within the hour. The first thing Violet noticed was the train station, a small locomotive refueling as crowds buzzed to and fro, kicking up red dirt at their heels. The streets were wide enough to accommodate wagons and horse drawn carts, and long enough to dip down a hill and beyond the ridge. In front of the general store, cured meats of every kind hung from the awning. A school bell rang in the distance, though Violet was unsure as to where. Mei, with a tight lead on the rest, eventually walked them to the front of a hotel—the largest building in the town. They hitched their horses to the front post, prepared to go inside.

“We stayin’ here?” Violet asked, hopping to the ground. Her bare feet smarted at a few sharp pebbles, but she ignored them.

“Depends,” said Linus. “Mei and I have a contact to meet. Might give us a lead on some more work.” He eyed Violet up and down. “But first thing’s first.” Linus dug into the front pocket of his waistcoat and handed her a small fold of bills. Confused, Violet fanned the money out. There was at least fifty dollars in her hand. “Rory?” Linus turned to Rory, who was just dismounting Sitting Bear’s saddle. “Why don’t you take Miss Violet to the haberdashery down the road? You know the one.”

“Yessir!” Bright eyed, Rory took Violet’s hand. “C’mon! It’s just this way!”

“Haberdashery?” Violet clarified.

Linus grinned. “Well, we can’t have you runnin’ around in rags with bare feet, now can we? Go on. That should be enough to get you some practical clothes.”

“But this is so much—”

Linus held out his hand. “Consider it a gift. Go on now, get.”

With a thankful smile, Violet squeezed Rory’s hand, and the two walked down towards a shop a block away. The crowd thronged around them, many too busy to pay any particular attention to Violet and her escort.

“So whatchyu gonna get, Missus Violet?” Rory asked. “A purdy new dress and some good shoes?”

Violet shook her head. “No more dresses for me. I’m sick of falling over my own skirts in a scramble. No, I think I’m gonna get me a nice pair of pants and a hat to keep me from burnin’ up in this damned sun.” She squinted at the clear sky, the daylight glaring against the metal shop signs. “It’ll be worse in the summer time, I bet.”

“Here we is!”

Looking down, Violet was presented with a shop and a sign that read: VAN BUREN FINE BOOTS AND WARES. A mannequin figure sat next to the open door, wearing a cow skinned jacket, undershirt, and neck tie. From the edge of the porch roof, a delicate pink dress fluttered in the wind. Violet gave Rory an approving nod, and the two stepped inside.

“Hello?” Violet looked around the store. The building was two stories, and the staircase led to a second floor, railed off by a banister. There was a simple counter in the corner of the main floor, a brass register left unattended by the window. On the shelves sat hats on standees, and leather and snake skin boots of all different size, shape, and make. On the opposite wall were outfits of all kinds, hung and positioned in flattering gestures.

“May I help you?” An older gentleman appeared at the top floor railing, accompanied by a smartly dressed young lady.

“Yes sir,” said Violet. “‘Fraid I need a new set of clothes.”

The gentleman and his assistant descended the stairs to give Violet a look. The haberdasher spotted her bare feet and muddy hem with a look of surprise and slight disgust. “I should say,” he said, pushing up his spectacles on his crooked nose. Violet immediately got the impression that the man was an Easterner, come west to find fortune. “And what would the lady be interested in? We have fine cotton dresses in plenty of colors.”

“Erm, actually…” She glanced at Rory, as if to look for courage. Violet was surprised just how nervous her request had made her. Telling Rory was no issue, but looking into the blank, expectant eyes of an older man, one who might not even sell her what she wanted…“I ain’t too interested in cotton dresses, mister.”

“Oh?” The haberdasher piqued a brow in curiosity. “Silk, perhaps? Though I must tell you, those can be a tad expensive.”

“No, sir. You ain’t hearin’ me.” Violet licked her dry lips. “I ain’t interested in dresses at all. Or skirts. Or petticoats.”

The haberdasher and his assistant exchanged bewildered expressions. “Well…” He returned to Violet, searching for the right question. “What, then, would you be looking for, exactly?”

Violet cleared her throat, and attempted to sound as casual as possible. “I’m in need of a set of trousers, a nice cotton shirt, a jacket, and new boots.” Violet caught a glimpse at the wall of hats. “And a hat. Somethin’ wide brimmed.”

For a moment, the haberdasher had no words, and remained expressionless. The young lady, whose collar went all the way up to her neck despite the warm weather, looked positively struck by Violet’s request. The longer they stayed still, the smaller Violet felt. But just as she was about to leave (or perhaps default to a simple skirt), the haberdasher turned sharply, and approached the wall of clothes. He removed a white cotton shirt and a pair of dark denim pants, the likes of which Violet had only ever seen on cattlemen. He handed them to her. “I hope that these are to your taste. Lucy.” The young lady straightened when her name was called. “Please escort our guest to the fitting room.” Without a word, Lucy nodded and turned, gesturing Violet to follow her.

The fitting room was in the back of the store, far away from the windows. It was a small, boxy room with a curtain for privacy. It reminded Violet vaguely of the coffins that would sit outside Mr. Ives’ mortuary. Stepping inside, she began to dress.

The trousers were vastly different than the pair of riding pants she had back home. Those had buttons to keep the fly closed, and up and down the outer seam of each side. These had a single row of buttons, starting at the center of the waistline and ending at the crotch. They were also rougher than any clothes Violet had ever worn. Yet there was a pleasantness to the touch that Violet could not put to words. Tossing her worn dress and the dead man’s jacket to the ground, Violet slipped into her new clothes. She spotted a cracked mirror on the inside of the tiny room. It was difficult to see, as the gas lamp was not turned on, but with the back-lighting through the top of the curtain, Violet examined herself. Her shirt was tucked in and properly buttoned, and her pants fit almost perfectly around her waist. With a great smile, Violet pushed back the curtain and stepped into the light. The others were waiting for her, eagerly.

Immediately, the haberdasher shot forward, and began to circle Violet. He examined every inch of her new clothes, muttering things to himself. Violet began to feel uneasy, and shied away slightly. “Is there somethin’ wrong?” she asked.

The haberdasher stood up straight. “I believe a sheep skin jacket would suit you. Here, this way. Lucy, clean up the rubbish.” He flicked his hand towards Violet’s old clothes. Lucy quickly gathered them up and took them upstairs. Violet was glad to see them go. “Now.” The haberdasher grabbed a jacket from one of the hooks and held it up for Violet to see. “Cow hide leather, lined with sheep skin. Warm, soft, durable.”

“How much?”

“Ten dollars.”

“I’ll take it. Oh and um…” Violet stared at her dirty toes. “Might want to grab a few socks while I’m at it.”

The haberdasher gave Violet the coat and immediately buzzed around the wall of shoes. Lucy returned with a small stack of socks (as though instinctively) made of wool. Violet’s aching feet felt instant relief, and her toes wiggled joyously in the fabric. “Yes…yes…This one, yes.” The haberdasher turned back around to Violet, holding a pair of leather boots. They were quite unlike the ladies’ shoes that lined the walls. These were flat soled, sturdy workman’s boots. And they looked to be Violet’s size. “Try these on, my dear.” Violet did so. They were stiff; stiffer than any shoes she’d worn before. But Violet was thrilled at the fit, and nodded. To complete the fitting, Violet slipped into the sheepskin coat and did the first two buttons at the bottom. She spotted herself in another mirror. Violet looked like a completely new woman.

“Oh, and we mustn’t forget! The pièce de résistance!” The haberdasher plucked a hat from one of the stands, and offered it to her. It was a soft, brown suede, with a black band tied at the crown. The brim tilted just so up on either side, and the center was pinched in ever so slightly. Violet placed it on her head. Just as everything else, it fit like a glove. Rory grinned in awe.

“It’s perfect,” he praised.

“Yes, it is.” She turned back to the haberdasher, her eyes sparkling. “How much? I’ll take it all.”

“Let me see now…” He went to the brass register and began to push a few buttons. “I’d say this whole ensemble would come out to…$31.62?”

Sweet Lord…thirty-one!? Still, Violet pulled out the folded money and approached the counter. After he made change, the haberdasher gently took her hand before she could pull away. His eyes were bright with some sort of untold joy.

“I believe I have never seen such a picture of loveliness,” he said affectionately. “I do hope you enjoy them, madam. And should you ever need anything else, you know where to find me.”

Violet’s wide smile pinched her cheeks. Not knowing how exactly to respond, she nodded in thanks, and fit the eighteen dollars in her front pocket. As they left, Violet could hear the haberdasher babbling excitedly about a new market for product. Violet wondered if she would start to see more women with sheep skin coats and cattlemen pants any time soon.

She and Rory returned to the hotel. The horses remained hitched to the outside post, and so the pair of them walked inside. The lobby was cool and carpeted from wall to wall in a deep, wine red. A spiral staircase sat in the corner, leading to rooms for rent. There was a small check in counter and a wall of keys, but no one to man it. Violet went there first, and looked around.

“Hello?” She noticed a small dinner bell to the right of the guestbook. She tapped it gently, but no one came at its ring. She turned to Rory. “Now where do you s’pose they might be?”

Rory eyed the lobby. “Hmm…” He suddenly pointed to a hallway near the back that Violet did not notice before. “I think I see ‘em there.” Walking towards it, Violet noticed a bar and tables on the other side of the hall. A tinny piano echoed from a far corner, and tobacco smoke lined the ceiling. Just visible through the gaslights and furniture, Violet spotted a head of shiny black hair sitting at the end of the bar.

Violet made her way towards the other Railwalkers, Rory not far behind. Currently, she and Linus were speaking to an older man in a velvet coat. His dark skin was crowned lightly with sweat, no doubt from the heat of his wardrobe. Sitting Bear stood watch behind Mei, scanning the crowd for anyone that might cause them a bit of headache. Linus was the first one to notice Violet.

“Well, bless my soul.” Linus removed his derby playfully. The others turned to see her. “Our little girl is growing up.”

Violet held out her arms, showing off the full outfit. “Well? What do y’all think?”

“I think you’ve gone and gotten rid of our doe-eyed Violet and replaced her with some cattle rancher,” Linus teased. However, his tone was endearing.

“I think she looks perfect!” Rory announced proudly. Sitting Bear nodded in agreement.

Mei, her smile slight, turned back around to the bar, where a glass of whiskey sat waiting. She downed it in one swoop. “It suits you,” she said.

The man in the velvet, who had taken a nervous disposition when Violet approached, eyed Linus skeptically. “Who’s dis nah?” Several of his upper teeth were missing, and his eyes were bloodshot in a way that made him seem far older than he probably was.

“No need to worry,” said Linus, patting the man’s arm. “We can trust her.” He stood and straightened his waistcoat. “I suspect y’all can get along without me?” Mei nodded. “Good. Then if you don’t mind, I think me’n Violet have an errand to run.” Linus escorted her back out of the hotel, leaving the others. Rory decided to stay behind in the hopes of getting a sarsaparilla.

“Was that your contact?” Violet asked as they stepped into the glaring sun. Linus led her in the opposite direction of the haberdashery, and down a corner to their left.

“It was,” he answered. “Got us a job tomorrow around noon. It should pay enough to get us through the summer.” Violet’s smile dwindled and she let her eyes wander. Linus took notice of this, though did not speak on it right away. “It still bothers you, don’t it? What we do?”

Violet sighed. “I don’t think it won’t ever stop botherin’ me.” She turned to him. “Ain’t there nothin’ else y’all could do to earn a dollar? Hell, what about them furs you traded down in Little Rock?”

But Linus shook his head. “That pays now and then, but it takes too much time to gather what we need to make the money we use.” They turned another corner, and made a straight line for the Wells Fargo down the street. “Besides, there’s more to it than money.” Reaching out, Linus opened the door for Violet, and followed her inside.

It was far smaller than the hotel lobby, the open windows letting in gentle gusts of warm, spring air. A round counter sat in front of a set of stairs, and a stack of parcels and letters, ready to ship. The floor was empty.

Linus approached the counter. Much like the hotel, there was a silver bell to be used for service. Linus tapped it, and the ring echoing through the empty room. Violet heard a shuffling up the stairs, followed by a voice: “Be right there!” A man, perhaps ten years Violet’s senior, walked down the steps. He spotted Violet first and smiled. Though he had brown hair and not nearly his physique, Violet was immediately reminded of Eustace Carpenter. “Well, good afternoon, miss,” he greeted. “And how can I help you to—” His eyes traveled to Linus, and the light immediately extinguished within them. As his expression curled in distaste, Violet suddenly knew why she had had the association. “—today?”

Linus smiled, polite as could be. “Afternoon,” he said, tipping his hat. Linus fished out a sealed envelope and laid it on the counter. “Is Frank in today?”

“No,” said the man curtly.

“Is that right?” Linus didn’t seem bothered, and rested an elbow on the edge of the countertop. “Seems to me he’s always in on weekdays. It ain’t Saturday, is it?” The man gave no response. “Right, well, it doesn’t matter. I need to get this sent off.” He tapped the envelope. “Fastest way you can. Lawrence, Alabama.”

“We don’t ship to Lawrence,” the man replied. His eyes were pin-pricked in disgust. “‘Fraid you’re gonna have to find another office, friend.”

Violet looked between the two men. A tense air filled the room. Violet wasn’t sure if she should say something or not. But upon looking at Linus, Violet saw a poisonous smile on his lips, and refrained from uttering a word. Linus slowly pushed his glasses up his nose.

“How strange,” he said quietly. “I’ve had plenty of luck sendin’ to Lawrence before now. Have some shippin’ routes changed?”

“Yes. Now I’m gonna ask y’all to leave before I call on the sheriff.”

“The sheriff?” Linus’s voice was almost playful. “Now why would we have to call in the sheriff? Just a couple of law abiden’ citizens trying to complete a transaction. No need to make a fuss.”

“I’m gonna tell you again,” the man growled. “Leave. This here is my establishment, and I don’t gotta serve no one I don’t want to.”

“Oh? And when did Frank sell you his office? Within the last year?”

“That ain’t none of your concern, nigger. This is the last time I’ll say it. Out.”

Smooth as fresh churned bother, Linus slipped out one of his shiny revolvers, and rested the butt on the edge of the counter. The color on the man’s face drained instantly as he stared down the barrel of the gun. Despite the danger of the situation, Violet felt a smile tickle at her lips. Linus’s expression hadn’t changed a lick.

“Now I’m going to ask you again, friend. And I’d like you to answer me nice and truthful. Where is Frank?” The man swallowed harshly, his watery eyes flickering between the gun and the man who wielded it. “Come on now, don’t keep me waiting.” Linus cocked back the hammer, rotating the chamber with a deadly click! Violet could see the man behind the counter start to shake.

“Travis? We got customers?” Heavy footfalls stomped their ways down the stairs. Linus looked over the counter man’s shoulder with a bright smile.

“Good day, Frank.”

“Linus!” Brightly, Frank approached the counter with open arms. He was a fat, older man with closely shorn hair graying on either side. His shirt was only half way tucked in, and two suspenders hung uselessly on either side of his waistband. Approaching the counter, he noticed the gun and looked at Linus, concerned. “Somethin’ a miss here?”

“Frank, when’d you stop shipping to Lawrence?” Linus asked, teasing. “According to your man here, you sold your office just last night, and its new landlord won’t do business with me.”

Frank snapped his head over to the man Travis, sneering. “What’s wrong with you, boy?” He slapped the back of Travis’s head. “This here’s one of our best customers!” He rounded to Linus. “I apologize on my employee’s behalf. He’ll know better for next time.”

Linus uncocked the hammer and slid his pistol back into its holster. “I’m sure he will.” He slid the envelope towards Frank. “Same place as always.” Digging into his pocket, he laid a crisp five dollar bill on top. “Fastest you can get it there.” Travis’s eyes widened at the money.

“Yes sir!” said Frank, pocketing the cash. He pushed the envelope into Travis’s arms with a snarl. “You get this upstairs and into Alabama’s box before I have a mind to dock your pay.” Travis glanced at Linus, who watched with great amusement. Turning sharply, he scuttled upstairs with Linus’s parcel, red in the face from the whole fiasco. Frank shook his head. “Sorry again, Linus. The boy’s brand new around here. He’ll learn.”

“No harm done. Now.” He gestured to Violet, as if to introduce her. “My friend here needs to send something herself.”

“Yes, ma’am,” said Frank, noticing Violet for the first time. “And where will yours be off to, miss?”

“Redrock.” Violet dug into her front pocket and pulled the letter she penned for her family the night before. “I can address it for you.”

“Could you please?”

Violet borrowed a pen and in the neatest scroll possible, wrote out her mother’s name and address. Once it was finished, she handed it off to Frank. “How much would it be?” She still had Linus’s change, and wondered if he’d mind if she used a few pennies for postage.

However, Frank held up his hand. “No need. Consider it a gesture of good faith after that sad display y’all witnessed. We’ll get it out to Redrock as soon as possible.”

“Much obliged,” said Linus. He turned to leave, and Violet followed. “Next time, Frank.” With a wave over his shoulder, Linus and Violet stepped through the front door and back into the sunlight.

Violet glanced over her shoulder, as if hoping to catch a glance of the man Travis getting his ear chewed off. “How’d you make all these friends, Linus? It can’t be easy for a man like you.”

“No, it is not,” Linus agreed. “And yet, it’s easier than you might think. Once you got enough oil to grease the right hands, you’re set, no matter your color.”

“And if you can’t find the right hands?”

“Then you make yourself scarce before them hands can wring your neck.”

Violet stopped walking. Linus had said it in such a casual manner, that it took a moment for her to connect the seriousness of the implication. The subject came up several times over the course of their travels, yet somehow it had not felt palpable until today. As though Linus’s familiar cruelty was a mere abstract, and had now taken the ugliest form. Linus, noticing Violet’s pause, turned around to her with a curious expression. “Violet?”

“I’m sorry.” Violet looked up from her boots to meet his gaze. He seemed perplexed.

“Sorry?” he repeated. “For what?”

“For that. For…” Violet waved vaguely behind her. “For what you’ve had to go through your whole life. It ain’t…None of it ain’t right, the way you’re treated. I’m so sorry.”

Linus responded with a kind expression. “You don’t have nothing to be sorry about,” he said. He tilted his head forward, the brim of his derby casting a long shadow down his dark face. “Unless of course, you regret riding with a free negro?”

“Of course not!” Violet said immediately.

“Then I don’t see why you need forgivin’.” Linus walked forward and squished her hat gently down her head, nearly covering her eyes with the brim. “You’re a good egg, Violet. Keep them eyes open. Now, I don’t know about you, but I’m starving.” Violet pushed her hat up with a smile. Linus turned, and continued to walk, with Violet close behind. “Let’s head on back to the hotel and get us some dinner. Mei should be finished with work by now.”

* * * *

The Van Buren hotel was one of the fanciest Violet had ever stayed in. It had four stories above its lobby, and every floor was carpeted from wall to wall. There were bathrooms on every level, and even an indoor outhouse down the hall from the lobby. As the Railwalkers settled into their room, Violet wondered if their renting just one was due to money, safety, or if it was similar to the incident at the Wells Fargo. Violet, however, did not ask, and the others didn’t mention it.

The room had two full sized beds, freshly turned down for their stay. They ate their supper in private (again, Violet wondered the true reason as to why) and settled in for the evening. Sitting Bear and Linus took the bed to the left, the weight of the former making the bed dip down so far it nearly touched the floor. Linus barely had room to lay sideways, but didn’t seem to mind the lack of space. Rory, rather than try and squeeze between them, eagerly elected to sleep in Violet’s bed. He scampered into the sheets and curled up against the pillows in total comfort. Violet, tucked in herself, looked over to Mei, who had taken a seat on the bench by the window. She still wore her boots, and her faithful gun was resting on its permanent place against her shoulder.

“You comin’ to bed?” Violet asked. There was a sizable gap to Rory’s right. Violet had assumed it would be Mei’s place.

“In a bit.” Mei’s eyes didn’t leave the silver horizon. The moon, competing against the orange glow of the oil lamps inside, reflected against the glass in sharp razor edges and onto Mei’s profile like stitching.

“Somethin’ on your mind?”

“No.”

Violet propped herself on her elbow. “Somethin’s got you worried though. That’s for sure.”

“Every town’s a gamble for us,” Linus elaborated. “Even in places where we have friends. Especially places where we have friends.”

“Still, you can’t expect to live off no sleep.”

“I’ll go to bed when I feel like it’s safe enough.” Mei turned to Violet. “You should get some shut eye though. Busy day tomorrow.”

“Right, your job.” Violet shifted before laying down flat on the bed. Mei didn’t bother testing Violet on her feelings, and instead returned to her watch. The hours ticked by. Violet tried again and again to lull herself to sleep, but she never quite reached it. Every time Violet felt the onset of dreams, she was somehow rocked awake for no reason at all. When she finally decided to accept her fate, she opened her eyes and looked to the others. They were asleep peacefully, as usual. Mei hadn’t moved an inch.

“Couldn’t sleep?” she asked quietly.

Violet sighed and laid her hands on her stomach. “Got too much on my mind, I guess.” She eyed the dead gas lamp above her. The wick had burned itself to a tiny, black nub. Violet tilted her head back to Mei. “Seen anything suspicious?”

“Not yet. Night’s still young.”

Violet propped her chin in her hand, turning onto her side. Rory shifted slightly, but stayed perfectly asleep. “Think we might have been followed somehow? Like at Little Rock?”

“Possible,” Mei answered. “It always is. Can’t imagine it’s probable though, the way we went. It’d have to take someone like Bear to track us down. But still. Possible.”

“Hm.” Violet let her mind wander, sorting through scenarios where it might have been possible that someone had tracked them down. Even in her wildest imaginings, she was inclined to agree with Mei. It was possible, but not likely. Violet toyed with the ends of her hair, noticing how knotted it became over the course of the day. She wished she had Mei’s hair, and all its smooth perfection. A question danced on the tip of her tongue, daring to be asked. Violet sat on it for close to twenty minutes, staring at anything but Mei herself. She shifted occasionally, every so often opening her mouth to speak, but closing it again before any words came out. Unfortunately, she didn’t seem to be as sly about it as she thought.

“You gonna spit it out or do I have to squeeze it from ya?” Mei rolled her eyes to Violet, perturbed. “You’ve been wriggling for the last half hour. Spit.”

Violet laid flat on her back and stared at the ceiling. Keeping her eyes away from Mei, she asked, “When’d you start likin’ girls?”

Mei didn’t answer immediately. Violet worried that she might have offended her, and turned to apologize. But Mei didn’t seem angry, merely surprised at the question. Then, she smiled. “For a while now,” she said. “Hell, I was younger than you, I think. Fifteen? Fourteen?”

Violet’s eyes widened and she fiddled with the blankets. “How’d you…? I mean…What made ya…?”

“I hear the Germans got a word for it. Homosexualität, I think is how they say it.”

“Homowhat?”

Mei shrugged. “In English it comes out homosexual. Heard it first from a German dancing girl back east.”

“What’s it mean?”

“What do you think it means?”

“Homosexual…” Violet went back to gazing at the plain ceiling. It was the only bit of wood not lathered in rich paint or deep stain.

“It don’t matter much to me what it’s called though,” Mei went on. “I am what I am, y’know? It’s all I’ve ever been.”

Violet smiled bitterly. “Wish I could say that. Mama would have a flyin’ fit if I came home from playin’ with one ribbon out of place.”

“Well, I suspect that won’t be much of a problem now, will it?”

“I guess not…”

Mei returned to the window, a smile on her face. It dropped immediately. In a flash, she was on her feet and alert. Violet, almost out of instinct, sat up not a second after. “Wake ‘em up. We best get moving. Now.”

Violet did as was asked. The others woke with no problem (except Rory, whom Sitting Bear managed to carry in his arms with ease) and dressed quickly. Violet managed to snag a peek around the window to see what Mei had.

Out in the blue dust, a posse of horsemen came riding slowly through the town. While it was difficult to see from such a distance, Violet could have sworn she noticed a glint of a sheriff’s badge on one of the men’s vests.

They were out of the room in no time, and down the stairs with quiet steps. Their horses, thankfully, were hitched out back. Unfortunately, timing was not on their side. The moment they came to the lobby, the front door began to creak open. They scattered like roaches to the closest hiding places they could find. Linus and Sitting Bear crouched behind the front counter, Rory tucked safely between them. Mei kept behind the corner wall of the stairs. Violet ducked into the first place she found—behind a bushy, potted plant. She hunkered herself down into the tightest ball she could muster, staring through the leaves as the posse stepped inside. There were six in total, their spurs jingling with every step. Guns rested in their hands and on their hips. Closer up, Violet could see metal badges pinned to the vests of at least two men.

“Spread out,” said one. “We don’t know what room they’re in, so check every last one of ‘em. Where’s the landlord?” They began to shuffle around in the dark, their guns at the ready. Violet saw a pair of the men make their way towards the stairs. Mei with her rifle posed, kept her back plastered to the wall. Violet’s breath caught in her throat. The minute they turned that corner, Mei was as good as caught. Violet frantically looked around her for a solution of any kind. That’s when she felt a jingle in her pocket. Linus’s change was still in her pants from earlier that day, and with the notes, a few hard coins. With no other option, Violet flung the change from her trouser pocket down the hallway towards the kitchens; the closest hallway to her hiding spot. The deputies turned sharply as the nickels clattered against the carpet and wood.

“Who’s there?!” One of them straightened his gun towards the hallway, cocking it ready. Violet ducked down so tight, her legs tensed in pain. She didn’t dare move for comfort. She heard the gentle steps of boots on the woolen rugs, each one like the pounding of a war drum. Violet held her breath and shut her eyes as the steps came closer. And then, the footsteps stopped.

“Well, well.” Cl-click. “What do we have here?”

Violet snapped her head up to find the cold barrel of a gun pointed right between her eyes. Bang! The lawman fell to the side with a snap of his body. Mei, her rifle smoking, stood from the shadows of the stairwell and cocked for another shot. What happened next was total chaos. Bullets flew in every direction. Linus and Sitting Bear popped up from the counter like gophers, took a few shots, then ducked back to safety. The lawmen, taken by surprise, made a mad dash to cover themselves. Two more dropped in the process. One jumped behind a lounging couch, one behind a wardrobe of decorative china, and the last rounded the front door, keeping his pistol inside to shoot.

Violet had never heard a noise so loud in all her life. Dishes shattered. Guests above screamed in terror. Each gunfire rocked the earth itself like thunder. Smoke filled the lobby. Windows broke, and glass layered the carpet in dangerous snow. Violet clutched her ears to try and block out the sound, but it was fruitless. Her ears rang against her palms, and her nose was full of the stink of gunpowder. She was so intent on keeping herself hidden that she didn’t notice the first lawman crawling toward her until it was too late.

A bloody hand grabbed Violet’s wrist harshly, shaking her out of her concentration. The deputy’s side was slick with blood, one hand trying desperately to keep pressure on his gunshot wound. He bared his yellow teeth, eyes bright with madness. Violet tried yanking away, but the man’s grip was fierce. They struggled, the potted plant tipping over in their tussle. Eventually, the lawman pushed Violet to the ground, his soiled hand pinning her by her throat. Ignoring his wound for now, he once more targeted his gun on Violet.

“Violet!” Linus was the first to notice her and cried out on instinct. The lawman looked up and spotted he and Sitting Bear crouched behind the bar for the first time, with Rory balled up safely between them. With his eyes temporarily off her, Violet tilted her head out of the way of the gun and swung her fist upwards as hard as she could. Her knuckles made painful contact with his temple, and he staggered to the ground. In the fray, his finger squeezed the trigger on accident, sending a bullet into the floor mere inches from Violet’s head.

Violet wasted no time and jumped onto the deputy while he lay dazed. Violet tugged on the gun, but the lawman had just enough sense to keep a tight grip on the handle. Foggy eyed and bleeding, he grabbed the roots of her hair and pulled. Violet let out a yelp of pain, but did not relent. Instead, she dove down and sunk her teeth into the man’s arm.

“Aurgha!” Finally, his fingers relinquished the pistol, and Violet took it herself. With both hands, she pointed the gun directly at him, but after a split second of thought, brought the butt of the revolver to his face instead. It struck painfully, and his eyes rolled to the back of his head as he passed out cold.

Bullets still fired like angry bees. Violet, spotting a serving cart, managed to crawl quickly towards it and knock it to its side. The tea set it held shattered as it fell, though the sound was choked out by the rest of the hellish gunfire. Violet knelt on one knee, hoping the flimsy cart would keep her safe, at least for now. She dared to spy over the edge. No one, besides her, had moved position. Violet weighed the pistol in her hand. Should she use it? Thoughts rushing, Violet propped it on the top edge of the cart and fired blindly. The kickback from the revolver sent her hand flying, nearly tossing the gun in the process. She doubted she hit anything but wall.

Bullets tore through the top of Violet’s cover. She laid as low as possible, but already the top of the tray was torn in half. Linus, noticing this, waved her over. Violet didn’t move immediately, glued to the spot in fear. Suddenly, Linus jumped out of cover and rushed to the gap between the counter and Violet’s tray.

“Go, Violet! Go!” He shot from both revolvers, one after the other. Each one kept the deputies at bay, even managing to knock a gun from its hand. Violet, knowing she’d have no other opportunity, scuttled across the floor and dove beneath the counter. Chambers empty, Linus quickly followed suit.

Crouched behind the counter, Linus began to reload with a surprising amount of spare bullets from his waistcoat pocket. “Violet. That hallway there, it leads to the kitchen, don’t it?”

“I think.”

“I need you to do somethin’ and do it fast.” The four of them curled forward as bullets blew off splinters of wood above their heads. Linus turned to Violet, eyes fierce. “Get into the kitchen. I’ll keep you covered. Find a bottle of liquor—anything—and a cloth napkin if you can manage it.” Sitting Bear shot up and fired two loud rounds from his shotgun before ducking back down. “Can you do this for me?”

“I—yes. But I don’t—”

“Just go!”

Once again, Linus came out of his hiding place and fired his guns in succession of each other. Violet, knowing time was precious, darted for the kitchen and ran through the swinging doors and into the darkness. It was nearly impossible to see, but Violet noticed a pantry door just to her right. She flung it open and began throwing things off the shelves and onto the floor, feeling desperately for a touch of glass, or a bottle neck. Finally, she found what she was looking for. Holding it up to the window, the moonlight reflected against the amber liquid inside. It sure as hell wasn’t olive oil. Violet then rummaged through drawers and cabinets, but found no napkins. Feeling that time was running out, she returned to the lobby and made a fast line to the counter. She handed Linus the bottle.

“No napkin,” she said. Linus took the bottle and uncorked it with his teeth. Taking his own sleeve, he ripped it quickly and shoved the fabric into the open neck until the bottom reached the whiskey. Violet blinked. “What—?”

“Mei! Lighter!”

Mei, barely visible from her hiding spot, threw her lion headed, silver lighter into the air without question. It arched over the counter top, Linus catching it easily. He flicked it open and lit the end of the fabric. Once the flame had spread up the side of the exposed fabric, Linus turned sharply and chucked the bottle towards their three remaining enemies. It fell harmlessly to the ground. “Bear!” Linus commanded. Sitting Bear popped up one last time, aimed his shotgun, and fired.

With a gentle crack, the bottle shattered, and from it came a giant burst of flame. It took hold of the lobby in rapid waves, quickly consuming everything in its path. The deputies shrieked in surprise and fell back, making their exit through the front. Mei led the Railwalkers likewise through the back. Racing into the kitchen, they forced their way through the door and out to the stables. The horses were antsy, spooked by the terrible noises from inside. They each mounted their saddle and were off into the distance before the lawmen could grasp up from down. Riding at full speed, they made their escape just as the sun began to rise in the east.

* * * *

“Goddamned…come on. Come out…”

Violet had been crouched at a river bed for the past half our, stripped down to her trousers and underthings while she tried desperately to scrub the blood from her newly bought shirt. They rode from Van Buren for a good hour before deeming it safe enough to stop and rest. Violet had taken the opportunity to try and wash the deputy’s blood off her new clothes. She reminded herself of a play her mother once took her to see when she was younger. Something about a Scottish king and his mad wife…

Footsteps approached her. Violet looked up and saw Sitting Bear looming above like a great oak tree. Quickly, Violet grabbed her jacket and clutched it around her neck. “You mind?! I ain’t decent!” Sitting Bear, as usual, did not answer. Instead, he crouched down and dug into his satchel. He pulled out a worn, brown box with faded ink. Violet immediately noticed the white powder inside. “Baking soda?” She took the offering with confusion.

Sitting Bear pointed to her shirt. “It helps,” he said. “Try.”

Violet looked between the box and her shirt. Gingerly, she tipped the box over and shook out small portions of the soda. Upon hitting her wet collar, it bubbled and fizzed, spreading easily over the stain. Violet set the box down and continued to scrub it against the flat rock she’d been using. After a few hearty rubs, Violet washed off the soda, and saw with delight that much of the dark color had faded. Smiling, she turned to Sitting Bear. “Thank you,” she said. “But you really shouldn’t’ve snuck up on me when I’m half naked. T’ain’t proper.”

Sitting Bear was blank a second longer. And then, he stood, nodded in understanding, and left Violet to her work. When she was finished, she laid the shirt on a flat log to dry, buttoning up her jacket in the meantime. While Sitting Bear and Rory prepared food for the late morning, Linus and Mei were speaking lowly, and away from the others. Mei’s arms were folded, and both of them wore serious expressions. Violet hesitated before approaching. Mei was the first to notice.

“Get that spot out yet?”

“Mostly,” she said. “It’s dryin’ now.” She shoved her hands into her pockets. “So? Where to now?”

“That’s just what we were discussin’,” said Linus, turning back to Mei. “The railroad ain’t far off. We’d be there and back in under an hour. You know it.”

“And if men are patrolling that railroad?”

“They won’t be. They only ever watch the stations.”

Mei sighed, rolling her neck in frustration. Violet glanced between the two of them. “What railroad?” she asked.

“Our work,” Linus responded. “We need to be at a certain bend in the tracks by noon today to get our mark.”

Violet’s mouth gaped open. “You’re still goin’ forward with it? With what just happened—”

“I know, I know.” Linus ran a hand back and forth along his short, curly hair. “We just can’t let this one go.”

“We got more than enough money to last us for now,” Mei argued.

Linus reached out and took Mei’s arm. His warm, brown eyes were pained. “Mei. We can’t lose this one. You know we can’t.”

Mei’s brows were knit firmly, staring at Linus’s hand. Linus did not relent, and pleaded silently for Mei’s decision. After a moment, Mei turned to Violet. “You and Rory are gonna stay back, you hear? We’ll find a safe place for y’all to stake out. And in case anything goes wrong, I want you two to high tail it back to Malvern. That’s southeast from here. Meet up with Ruby and we’ll come get you in a matter of days. You get me?” Though Violet did not like the prospect of returning to Ruby’s smug face, she nodded in agreement. “Right then,” Mei continued, rounding back to Linus. “We’ll go as planned. But if I even smell a hint of trouble, we’re out. Clear?”

“Clear,” Linus agreed. “Thank you, Mei.”

After a quick meal, they set off to the east, keeping the horses at a trot to make good time. Questions buzzed in Violet’s mind, but for her own sake, she kept them to herself. There was a part of her that was afraid of knowing the answers.

Mei led them to a ridge, stopping just at the edge. Over the cliffside, a good quarter mile away, was a railroad track. One that curved sharply to avoid a pile of rock and brush. The rest of the land surrounding it was flat enough. Violet recalled the day she first laid eyes on the Railwalkers’ horses, and noted that this would be a proper stage for a repeat performance.

“What’s the time?” Mei asked.

Linus dug out his pocket watch and flipped it open. “Twenty till.”

“Perfect.” Staying saddled, Mei shifted to Violet. “You and Rory stay on this ridge here. You’ll be well out of the way, should anything go wrong. Remember, don’t you dare stick around if things go amiss.”

“Yes, Mei.”

“Good. Rory.” Rory slipped from Sitting Bear’s saddle and walked up to Mei, wearing a dutiful expression. Mei squared her shoulders, as though giving an order to a solider. “You got a big job for me today. You stay here, and you protect Violet from danger. You get me?”

“Yes’m!” Rory snapped his fists together at his sides, his pink face scrunched in determination.

“Good boy. All right.” Mei motioned for the others to follow. “Let’s get this over with.” Leading the way, she, Linus, and Sitting Bear rode down a rocky path, settling as close to the tracks as they dared.

Violet hopped off Maple and sat herself down, cross-legged, to watch. Rory sat beside her. “You scared?” he asked, his expression still hardened.

Violet smiled slightly. “A little,” she admitted. “But I got you to watch out for me, don’t I?”

Rory puffed out his chest with importance. “Yup! Don’t worry, Missus Violet. I won’t let nothin’ happen to ya.” Violet laughed gently and wrapped her arms around Rory. Eventually, he found a comfortable place in her lap, and the two of them watched the empty tracks in silence. By the time Mei and the others had descended to track level, they were barely big enough for Violet to make out their details. They rested their horses behind an oak tree, waiting. Violet recalled the day she first laid eyes on the bandits. How fascinated she was then, how devoid of fear, even as a child. She wondered if there would be another little girl who saw Mei’s black eyes today.

A distant rumble shook the tracks. A rhythmic chugging grew ever closer as a shrill whistle broke the silent air. Violet held tight onto Rory, watching as the others sat up stiff in their saddles, ready to ride. Beyond the horizon of trees, a smokestack plumed in a curved line, and the chugging grew louder. The Railwalkers burst into action just as the front of the iron horse lurched into view. Being sure to stay out of the conductor’s sights, the three made a straight, mad dash along the side of the train. Violet watched, her breath held in anticipation. They raced alongside the train, though kept their horses slightly slower than their pursuit. Once they had fallen back to the right car, while still keeping pace, Mei gave a signal, and all three of them hopped onto the rails of the back carriage. Remarkably, their three horses kept running, now in perfect unison with the train’s speed. As the locomotive went around the bend, Violet knew that they would soon be out of view of her and Rory’s vantage point. Unable to help herself, she unseated Rory and raced along the ridge, desperate to keep the car in her eyesight. Rory quickly followed.

Mei was the first to emerge, her rifle in hand. Sitting Bear was next, a thin man slung under his arm, and Linus made the final exit, barring the door from the outside. One by one, the leapt upon their horses and rode to safety, with their catch safely in tow. Violet watched as their trail of dust thundered around the ridge she stood on and into a deserted field behind it. When they were far enough away from the tracks, the man was thrown to the ground, and the three outlaws circled him like vultures. Violet could see the guns in their hands, poised and ready to fire. Her blood raced. She had remembered her promise to Mei of not interfering. She knew that their work was none of her concern nor her business. For the sake of her soul and her sanity, it would be best if Violet turned around and kept her ears plugged.

Violet didn’t bother even calling for Maple. Her legs sent her forward before her mind had time to catch up. By the time she understood what she was doing, she had already run half way down the ridge and towards the condemned mark. Her legs twinged at the shock of the hard earth beneath her boots. She ignored them. Hat and hair wildly behind her, Violet reached the others just as Mei was raising her Winchester.

“Wait!” The others turned as Violet flung herself forward, slick with sweat and painfully out of breath. Once she was close enough to speak, Violet took a moment to regain her stamina. Her eyes fell to the Railwalkers’ mark. He was thin, as Violet had noticed earlier, and red in the face from crying. His clothes were well made, but hardly lavish. An old pocket watch hung from his waistcoat, one that was possibly handed down from a father or grandfather. In his weeping face, Violet saw youth and fear. This was not evil Mr. Munts. This was a boy, probably no older than herself.

Mei approached Violet, blocking him from her view. She gripped Violet’s shoulder firmly. “Violet. Go back to Rory—”

Violet reached up and took Mei’s hand. “It don’t gotta be like this, Mei! We can take him to a sheriff or a marshal—!”

Mei scoffed, sharply. “And what sheriff or marshal wouldn’t shoot us on sight?”

“Then I’ll take him!” Violet argued. “We cross state lines, we find us a sheriff who don’t know me from Adam, and we turn him in!”

“P-please, ma’am!” The young man, bound by his wrists in twine, inched forward and pawed at the ground, begging for his life. Dirt streaked his tear-stained face. Violet could detect freckles from an innocent boyhood blossom from his rosy cheeks. “D-don’t kill me! I’m to be married this summer! Why I—I’ve not lived a fraction of life I should!” Sitting Bear thwacked the back of his head with his shotgun butt, silencing him. He took a shaky breath.

Mei rounded to their prisoner. The disgust on her face was biting. “So eager to live your life, yet you beg with them hands that ruined so many others’.” Linus, with a loathing expression, spat at the boy’s feet. Mei and Sitting Bear did the same. Mei rested her rifle casually in her hands. “You know why we’ve come for you, boy?” The young man said nothing. Mei pressed the cold barrel of her gun against his temple, making him whimper. “It’s a simple question, friend. Do you know why we’re here for you?” Curled down, the young man gripped his hands tightly, dirt lacquered over his sweaty fingers. Finally, he nodded. “Good. Then say it.” The boy’s eyes shot up in fear. Mei cocked her Winchester and held it between his eyes. “Say it.”

Violet suddenly grabbed Mei’s elbow, staying her hand just a moment longer. “Mei, whatever he done, he deserves a trial. Let the law deliver justice.”

Mei’s black beetle eyes were fearsome as she glared at Violet. She kept her gun on the man’s forehead, but as if to point at him, more than any threat. With a quiet, growling voice, she said, “This piece of shit has raped no less than fifteen little girls. Some as young as nine.”

Violet’s stomach dropped out of her body. Her face, at first so determined and desperate, fell with it. Slowly, she refocused on the condemned man. Where once she saw a child in need of pity, now became a wriggling, slobbering mess too disgusting to touch. Her eyes fixated on his sniveling vestige, Violet spoke again. “Are you sure?” It was no stronger than a whisper.

Mei crouched by the fellow, taking her gun away for now. She gripped his hair and yanked up his head, exposing his raw, ugly crying to the sunlight. “Do you deny this?” she hissed. Her grip tightened on his scalp. “Any of it?” Snot dribbling down his chin, he shook his head “no.” Mei dropped it and stood tall. “Violet. Go back to Rory. Now.”

Violet didn’t answer right away. She lingered, shifting from one foot to the next, on a precipice of indecision. “Still…” She forced herself to tare her eyes from him, and instead focused them on Mei. “If he truly did what you say…then the law will be on our side. He’ll be properly punished for his crimes, I have no doubt.”

Rather than arguing further, Mei glanced over her shoulder. “Linus?” Linus, who had been uncharacteristically quiet, had not looked at anything other than their man on trial. Mei continued. “Care to tell Violet why that won’t work?”

Finally, Linus looked up from their mark. His anger was etched in stone. “They was colored girls,” he said.

Violet stood in silence, a horrible realization dawning. One last time, she stared at the young man. She tried imagining taking him to an officer of the law, seeing him to court, and perhaps hanged. But what jury of white, God fearing Christian men would destroy one of their own so young over the welfare of Negro children? Violet wanted to believe otherwise, but the truth was too terrible to ignore. More than likely, he would be reprimanded more for association than for the heinous acts of which he was accused. Face trial today, and this monster would walk free tomorrow.

In one last, ditch effort, the marked man reached out and grabbed at Violet’s pant leg, sobbing. “Please, ma’am!” he pleaded. “Please, you understand! Let me face my punishment at the hand of the law! Give me a chance to redeem—! AH!” Mei dug the heel of her boot into the boy’s hand, crushing his bones beneath it.

“Who you think you are, talkin’ to her?” she snarled. “You don’t so much as look at her, you hear me? You don’t got the right.” She lifted her heel, and the rapist curled into a ball, whining over his broken hand. With a deep, calming breath, Mei reined in her emotions before addressing Violet one last time. “Go,” she said quietly. “Go with Rory. We’ll wait until you’re out of sight.” Her expression became earnest. “I don’t want you seein’ this.”

Violet hesitated once more. She wanted to argue, even still. But there was no denying it. If Violet had it her way, there would be no justice for those fifteen little girls. And so, with a heavy heart, Violet turned, and slowly walked away. Rory and Maple were waiting for her yards off. Violet took her horse’s reins and led them both back up the ridge. She did not look back. As promised, Violet did not hear the gunshot until she was well out of eyesight of the empty, open field.

Violet sat in silence with Rory for a time, waiting for the others to return. It felt like an eternity, yet they were back before she knew it. The dead man was not with them. Violet didn’t feel the need to ask what was done with the body. Just as before, they returned with their marks’ effects. Perhaps to trade, or to use themselves. Again, Violet didn’t feel like asking. “Let’s keep on,” Mei said. “Lawmen will be out this way soon. Best if we ain’t.” The others wordlessly obeyed. Packed and mounted, they headed down the ridge and further west.

The silence was deafening. The four horses kept distance from one another, Linus in particular. He took up the rear, staying far away from the rest. Probably needs some time to cool off, Violet thought. Out of all of them, he seemed the angriest from their work. It didn’t take a genius to understand why.

Soon enough, the sun began to sink, and the five of them set up their usual camp. Sitting Bear took up cooking, Mei took up drinking, and Rory and Violet helped in any way they could. Linus took first perimeter, and didn’t return until supper was ready. He said nothing while he ate, and when he finished, laid in silence and stared at the stars. Violet, sitting by his feet, stared at him with worry. Mei seemed to share her sentiment, because she picked up a free tin cup, poured it full of whiskey, and gently tapped his elbow. Linus looked up, broken from his daze.

“Cheers, partner,” she said. Slowly, Linus sat upright, taking the cup. He stared at its contents before downing it in one go. He held it out for another cupful. Mei obliged. Her eyes darted up to Violet and lifted up an empty cup. “Care to join us?” After today? Yes. Violet took the offer with ease, and soon, the tension of the day started to melt off Violet’s very bones. They were a few drinks in when Linus finally spoke.

“Hope the bastard rots in Hell. More than that. I hope he suffers until he changes the very meanin’ of the word.” He downed another tin cup of liquor, and Mei poured him a new one. “Him, and every son of a bitch like him.”

Violet tapped her cup. “Well…I’m sure he’s on his way now, ain’t he?”

“No thanks to you.” Linus’s words were biting, and he snapped his eyes up to where Violet sat. Violet straightened, stalled momentarily. “If you hadn’t come runnin’ up, interruptin’ our work—”

“Linus,” warned Mei.

“—we woulda sent that goddamned piece of shit to Hell without givin’ him the courtesy of a final breath. Why is it you think you gotta insert yourself in our business?”

“Linus, that’s enough.”

Linus stood, the flames flickering against his twisted face. Violet reared back, hands tight on her tin cup. “You was so eager to spare that cracker his goddamned bullet. We don’t kill nobody who don’t deserve it, you know that, yet you ran up thinkin’ you knew best cause the boy had a white fuckin’ face. Tell me, Violet, how many children does a white man have to rape for your heart to stop bleedin’? Six? Seven? Let me know, so’s I can inform our next target and see if he meets your damn quota.”

Violet didn’t notice her tears until they splattered into her whiskey. Linus didn’t yell or throw things. There was no brute force in his tone. Despite his liquored eyes, his words were sharp and meaningful. And they cut deeper than any hunting knife could have.

Mei finally stood between them. She blocked Linus from view, and spoke in a voice Violet could not hear. Violet turned to see Sitting Bear and Rory watching from across the fire. Both looked away. When Violet chanced another look up, Linus had stormed off into the night. Mei had her hands on her hips, her head hung in a deep sigh. Violet sniffed, and quickly tried to wipe her eyes dry before Mei spotted her tears. If she did notice, she had the decency to keep it to herself.

Mei sat back down, closer to Violet this time, and poured herself another drink. It was the last of their final bottle. “Damn.” She chucked the empty glass aside and rested her tin cup on the flat of her knee. “Give him time,” she said. “Things like this…they hit a bad place for Linus. He don’t mean those things.”

Violet sniffed again, rubbing her eyes roughly with the sleeve of her jacket. “I never meant—”

“I know you didn’t mean nothin’ by it,” Mei agreed. “You’re a slave to your own morality. But here’s the truth: that kind of thinkin’ don’t work out here, not anymore. The people we kill, the people we go after, you must understand that we ain’t got no chance on God’s green earth of sendin’ them to prison. If we did, that’s what we would do. You understand that, don’chya?”

Violet nodded sadly. “I knew I had to face it eventually. I just didn’t think that…” She pressed her eye into her knuckles, feeling a headache coming on. “I wish there was a better way.”

Mei reached out and brought Violet in close. Violet fit perfectly against Mei’s bosom, finding comfort in her warm breath and steady heartbeat. “I do too,” she said. “More than anything.” They stayed like that for a long while. Sitting Bear and Rory eventually went to bed. Linus had not returned, and Violet doubted if he would before sunrise. Gently settled under Mei’s arm, Violet’s head on her shoulder, Violet watched the fire flicker and die, as the warmth of the whiskey lulled her to sleep.

Chapter 8

The first thing Violet felt that morning was her pillow moving beneath her. Drowsy, her eyes creaked open just as Mei carefully left their bed roll, trying to disturb Violet as little as possible. A figure—Violet could only assume it was Linus—stood at the edge of camp. Mei approached him and the two spoke in hushed voices. The longer they talked, the more awake Violet became, and the more she remembered from the night before.

Violet rolled away from the scene, staring instead at the dusty plains beyond their little campsite. The ache of Linus’s anger was still there, weighing heavy on her heart. That, coupled with the hopelessness of no alternative to taking life, and Violet didn’t feel the need to get out of bed that day.

Footsteps approached from behind. Violet kept her eyes closed, perhaps in an attempt to feign sleep. “Violet,” came Linus’s gentle voice. “Feel like helping me with breakfast?” Violet stayed still and silent. She heard Linus crouch down to her level. “I’d…really like the help. If you could spare it.” Violet contemplated staying silent a moment longer, but torn by Linus’s pleading tone, she turned slightly and opened her eyes. Linus was looking down at her, his gaze earnest and regretful. He offered her his hand. Violet took it.

Linus helped her to her feet, and Violet followed him to the burned out campfire, where spare logs and kindling sat next to their kitchen pots. As Violet prepped the wood, Linus addressed their supplies. For a while, they said not a word, and focused instead on their tasks at hand. Once the logs were ready, Violet rifled through the smaller satchel of supplies and found a box of matches. Striking one, she held it underneath the kindling. Tiny, minuscule flames clung to the twigs, and started to smoke.

“How’s bacon sound?” Linus suddenly asked. He held up a parcel wrapped in brown paper. “We picked up some fresh pig back in town. Should be tasty.”

“Mhm.” Violet knelt down and blew gently into the fire, coaxing it to life.

Linus sighed and crossed his legs, pan in his lap. “I didn’t mean what I said, Violet. Last night.” Violet hesitated, but kept her eyes on the fire. “It wasn’t very gentlemanly of me, was it? To go after you like that. I didn’t mean none of it…”

“No. It wasn’t.” Violet blew one last time. The fire finally took hold and spread strongly through the pit. Violet sat up, hands in her lap. “But…You was right. Partly.” They glanced at one another. “The minute I saw that boy, I couldn’t imagine him doin’ nothin’ to nobody. You were right, Linus. The moment I came runnin’ down towards you, I woulda denied them little girls their justice.” She finally turned to face Linus, her eyes tired. “I won’t get in your way again. I know I can’t now.”

Linus smiled, somberly. “Thank you,” he said. He placed the rusty old hot plate over the fire and filled the coffee pot with beans and water. As breakfast sizzled in its pan, Violet felt the promise of a new beginning, and a far better day than the one before.

Not wanting to dally too long after their snafu in Van Buren, they packed up camp after eating and headed west. As they traveled, the Arkansas trees grew fewer and fewer on the horizon. By the time the sun had pinned the center of the sky, sweat beaded down the back of Violet’s shirt, and she had no choice but to remove her jacket and keep her top collar unbuttoned.

“Hey…somethin’ I can’t figure out,” Violet asked to no one in particular. “If y’all ain’t goin’ back to Van Buren, how’s you gonna get paid for yesterday?”

“Word travels,” answered Mei. “We was supposed to head north to Kansas, but plans got changed. We head south now, down the Rio Grande and through Texas. We got a woman there who can request our money via telegram. Have to linger a few days, but it’s one of our safest spots. This side of the Mississippi, anyway.”

“Texas?” Violet eyed the horizon around them. The sparse landscape and dry earth allowed her to put two and two together. “Wait…Does that mean we’re in—?”

“Indian Territory,” Sitting Bear finished.

Violet shifted on her saddle, a well of worry springing up within her breast. “Will we be safe?” She eyed Sitting Bear. “Present company excluded, o’course, but I doubt all injuns is like you, Bear.”

“You’d be right,” said Linus. “Thankfully, we have you. And Mei and Rory, too.”

“How’s that help us any?”

“Most tribes don’t attack women and children,” Linus explained. “Any brave sees us with two womenfolk and a little boy, they won’t bother.”

Violet turned to Sitting Bear. “Does having you with us help, too? On account of you bein’ one of them.”

Sitting Bear took his typical time to ponder the question before answering. “No. I am different than others we may find. They will know this. If they mean to kill us, it will not stop them.”

Well, ain’t that peachy? Violet thought in misery. Still, there was an underlying current of safety being with the Railwalkers. She had no doubt that if they were mobbed by a rabid band of Indians, they’d pull out some way or another. Hopefully. “And what about Mexicans?” Violet pried. “We’re headin’ down into Mexico now. Ain’t it nothin’ but bandits?”

Linus chuckled. “It’s got more than just bandits, though there’s plenty of those. Plenty of just normal folk, like me or you, trying to get to the next day. In fact, I think you might like Mexico.”

The road traveled through Indian Territory was hot and dry. Greenery went from covering the landscape to forming tiny dots along the horizon. Taking a wild guess at how long Violet had been with the Railwalkers, it must have been getting close to summer, or at least late spring by now. Violet’s lips chapped drastically, and by mid-day, her water canteen was near empty. Her hat, thankfully, managed to block out a good chunk of the sun above, but could not combat the dusty air. When they finally came to a river bank, Violet was the first to indulge in the cold, clear water.

Jumping off Maple, Violet knelt beside the river and splashed her face with big handfuls of water. She drank tirelessly, and soon after filled her canteen until the bubbles died out. “How many days till we get to where we’re goin’?”

“Could be two weeks,” said Mei. “Maybe a bit longer.” She also joined Violet at the river, filling her canister with water. “Definitely before the worst of the summer heat.” Sitting Bear led the horses to water, and he and Rory dipped their hands and faces in, washing the road from their skin. Mei lifted her head and addressed Sitting Bear. “Think here’s safe enough?”

Sitting Bear observed the area. “We are between two nations,” he said. He pointed north. “Cherokee.” He pointed south, down the path before them. “Choctaw. I cannot assume either place is any safer.”

“Fair enough.” Mei stood and dusted off her pants. “Let’s sit a spill and get some food in our bellies. We’ll make camp at nightfall.”

The others agreed, and when night came, they were miles deep into the Choctaw Nation. Despite what Linus had said, Violet formed a rather quick habit of checking over her shoulder, just in case she caught sight of native eyes that might be watching them. Sitting by the fire as Sitting Bear cooked, she picked at a raw potato skin, just to relieve a bit of tension. Her ears were perked for any unusual noises. Every chirping cricket and howling wolf put her on edge, and it was all she could do to keep herself from nursing her pistol.

“Lord have mercy,” Mei drawled, a freshly rolled cigarette on her lips. “You get any stiffer and we could use you for a scarecrow.”

“Sorry,” said Violet. She noticed a small pile of potato skin snowflakes at her ankles. She swiped them away. “Ain’t you a little nervous? At all?”

Mei flicked on her lighter and held the flame to her tobacco. “Not much.” The cherry glowed bright as Mei took her first drag. “Truth be told I was more worried when we were sittin’ pretty in Van Buren. At least if an Indian tries to kill you, he’s honest about it.”

“Hm.” Violet wrapped her arms around her knees. “What tipped ‘em off to us, I wonder? Far as I could tell, we was keepin’ a low profile.”

“I reckon I could wager a guess,” said Linus, kindle under his arm. He set the sticks to the side of the fire and wiped off his hands. “Frank’s new assistant didn’t look too pleased when he got an earful. I’d bet my bottom dollar he’s the one who was tellin’ tales.”

Violet thought back to the nasty desk clerk at the Wells Fargo, and her expression soured. She had a feeling that Linus was completely correct in that assumption. “Guess y’all just gotta be even more careful from now on.”

Linus smiled. “It ain’t just us. You an outlaw now, missy. It’ll be easier for a face like yours, believe me, but you gotta learn real quick who to talk to and how.”

Violet wanted to argue, but found no counterpoint. Though she herself hadn’t exactly committed a crime, she supposed that even association with the Railwalkers was reason enough for a prison sentence. Not to mention she was still wanted for Munts’ murder. Violet’s train of thought derailed as her eyes scanned the camp. “Where’s Rory?” she asked.

“Here!” came a tiny voice from the dark. Rory walked into the firelight, holding a snared rabbit by the ears. He smiled proudly and hung his catch close to the fire. “Might be good breakfast.”

“Ooh, she’s a fat one, ain’t she?” Linus knelt down and pat the rabbit’s long belly. “She’ll make a good stew, at least. Good boy.”

Violet, however, took on a more worried tone. “You went off on your own? In the dark?”

Rory seemed confused. “Yeah,” he said. “Somethin’ wrong ‘bout it?”

“Not really, just…” Violet stalled. “Next time you go out trappin’ while we’re on this land, you bring me along with you.”

Rory frowned. “Why?”

“Well…” Violet shifted. “Because I…I wanna learn how to set up snares. Just the way you do ‘em. Maybe that way you could show me and we could practice.”

Like two lightning bugs, Rory’s eyes brightened. He smiled wide, showing off two holes where teeth should have been. “Yes ma’am!” he agreed. “I’ll show you whatever you wanna see, Missus Violet.”

Violet smiled with relief. “Thank you, Rory. Now get over here and help warm me up. It’s getting chilly out.” Happily, Rory bounced into Violet’s lap, distracting her from the uncertainty that surrounded their camp.

“Right. Now that we got everyone.” Linus went to his saddle bag and pulled out a long spool of rope. Violet looked at it, curiously. He walked ten paces out from the fire and laid one end in the dirt. Walking backwards, he began to lay the entire spool around them, encasing the camp in a wide circle.

“What’s that for?”

“Rattlers,” Linus explained. “They show up more the closer we get to Mexico. Lay down some rope like this—” He gestured to the circle, “—and a snake turns right back around the minute it touches it. Feels like another snake to them, and most rattlers don’t want no trouble.”

Great. Now I gotta worry about rattlesnakes, too. Violet leaned against a smooth rock, Rory comfortable in her lap. The stars were partially covered by blots of gray cloud, rolling in from the east. Off in the distance, a gentle train whistle pierced the night. The vivid image of the Railwalkers racing beside a speeding train was still fresh on her mind. Aside from the morbid consequences of their work, Violet couldn’t help but admire the ingenuity and the coordination required for such a stunt. How long did it take them to manage something like that? How many times had they failed? Despite its reality, something about it was truly beautiful.

The next morning, Rory was more than happy to show Violet his collection of ropes and traps. After breakfast, he led her through the desert brush and back to where he caught his rabbit from before. Just over a hill sat a plot of foliage, made dry and prickled from the desert sun. Violet could see holes cropped up along the earth, made by gophers or rodents or the like.

“Right here.” Rory crouched between two bushes and rummaged the area for twigs. After finding two to his liking—a thick stake and a sinewy branch, split near the top—he stuck them opposite of each other and took out a tiny pocket knife. “C’mere, Violet.” Violet knelt beside him, and watched his tiny fingers work. “See this biggun here?” He held the knife tip to the top of the thick stick and began to carve a small hole. “You gotta make it all the way through. Like a needle.” For such a young boy, Rory handled his knife with surprising skill, and before too long, a complete hole ran through the top, big enough to see through. Putting away his pocket knife, Rory took out a bundle of copper wire and slipped one end through the hole. He fed it through and curled and twisted off the end to the rest of the wire. Using the remainder, Rory made a wide loop and eventually created the same noose with the opposite end as he had with the first, encompassing the core of the wire. Once it was ready to go, Rory delicately set the edge of the loop on the edge of the thin twig.

“Rabbit comes through here.” He pointed to the big loop. “The wire closes in, rabbit gets spooked, and snap.”

“Mighty clever.” Violet touched a tip of the wire with her forefinger. “How’d you learn to do this?”

“Bear, mostly. Some I made up myself. I got this one with rope, and if I find myself a thin tree…” Rory began to ramble about some snare he’d come up with on their travels, when something else caught Violet’s attention. Her eyes roved the hill, and pausing at the top, Violet spotted a dark face watching in silence. The minute their eyes met, the face ducked down out of sight. Violet straightened in alarm.

“Grab your wire, Rory. We best be going.”

“Goin’?” Still, Rory took his trap and stood. Grabbing his hand, Violet raced them back over the hill and towards camp. The others were just packing up.

“We need to go,” she announced. “Right this minute.”

“Something the matter?” Mei asked.

Violet gestured wildly behind her. “I saw one. One of ‘em—starin’. Watchin’ us.”

“One of who?”

“Who do ya think?!” Violet was in a frenzy, her words spitting out faster than she could think them through. “Some savage saw me’n Rory down there by the bushes! We don’t get out now, he’ll be back with his whole dad-gum tribe to skin us all!”

A silence fell like an iron hammer the minute Violet realized what she was saying. All eyes, including hers, swiveled to where Sitting Bear stood. His face had not changed, but his soul—piercing gaze inundated Violet with a burning shame. “Some savage,” he repeated, calmly. He said nothing else, and mounted his mustang.

Linus scratched the back of his head, awkwardly. “I told you, we’ll be just fine. Tribes don’t attack women and children—” Sitting Bear kicked his horse into motion, and sprinted away before Linus could finish his sentence. Violet looked at the others, helpless.

“He don’t think…? Y’all know I didn’t mean to say that Bear was a…was a…”

Mei slipped into her own saddle, back straight and noble. “Sure sounded like it to me,” she said.

“But that’s not what I meant!”

“It don’t matter what you ‘mean,’“ Mei replied. “It matters what you said. Hyah!” Mei galloped off, and Linus and Rory followed suit. Feeling small and misplaced, Violet mounted Maple, and did her best to catch up.

* * * *

Over the next days of travel, the patch of dry and desert land turned back into lush greenery that Violet was more familiar with. The heat remained, and with a wetness that stuck to her skin like frog slime. Sitting Bear had not said a word to her during this time. At night around the fire, Violet tried engaging him, asking him questions and offering him extra portions of supper from her plate. He didn’t bother responding. By the second night, Violet had all but given up trying to make amends.

She and Mei had trained as usual, but there was an unspoken tension around the camp. Violet was reminded of her early days with the gang, and their begrudging attitude toward her presence. By the third morning, the bruises of her training only added to the weight of her guilt, and she felt suffocated by her company.

“We makin’ tracks soon?” she asked, half expecting not to get an answer.

“Just about,” said Mei. “Just gotta pack up the kitchen.”

“Right.” Violet mounted Maple’s saddle and stared beyond the flat field where they resided and towards a thicket on the horizon. “Mind if I stretch my legs a bit? Maple’s been getting antsy.” Maple, in fact, had been rather enjoying herself with the other horses, but no one seemed willing to correct her. Instead, Mei waved vaguely, giving Violet her blessing to head off on her own. Truth be told, Violet might have gone without it.

Hat hanging by the strings around her neck, Violet bounced as Maple galloped towards the thicket. She closed her eyes and let the wind lace through her hair, combing the strands into a wild bramble of brown. Maple slowed as she reached the edge of the trees, and Violet kept her at a decent trot, until they were out of sight of the others.

Descending the saddle, Violet took Maple’s reins and led her quietly through the forest. “What am I doin’ wrong, Maple?” she asked. “I’ve tried sayin’ I’m sorry and all…But Bear is so big. He scares me, just a little. Maybe I tried thinkin’ he didn’t, but…” Violet spotted a pond and let Maple’s reins hang loose. She sat at the edge of the water and let her fingers trail the cool surface. A few tiny fish darted from her fingers and into the dark green abyss. With a sigh, Violet laid flat along the grass and stared at the clear blue sky above her. She felt as helpless as she did back in Redrock, laying in the middle of her family’s field, and twice as lost.

To think, came a voice, back then all I was worried about was dumb ol’ Eustace. Now, I gotta watch every word I say? After all, friends or no, the Railwalkers were dangerous people. Should she be sloppy enough to get on their bad side, who’s to say what they’d do to her? Perhaps they wouldn’t shoot her, but it’d be easy enough to leave her in the middle of the desert with nothing but an empty canteen. Sighing deeply, Violet rolled her head back and stared at the trees upside down.

Something moved.

Violet rolled to her elbows in a second, peering through the trees. She caught glimpses of the movement through the windows between the trunks. A figure bounded from spot to spot, landing on silent feet. Violet stood and pulled the lawman’s pistol from her belt. Hand trembling, she cocked the hammer and held it with both hands. “Come out!” she demanded. “Come out or I’ll shoot!” There was no response at first. And then, Violet heard the distinguishing crunch of someone walking forward.

A young girl stepped into the light. Her feet were bare, and callused against the grass. She wore a prairie blouse and skirt, the hems flaked with mud. A necklace of odd, bright blue beads clacked down all the way to her midriff, and her long, dark hair hung untamed down her back. Violet pulled her gun away immediately, settling the hammer into place. The girl looked no older than fourteen, her brown face round with the blessings of youth. They stared at one another for a time, Violet unsure how to proceed.

“Uh…” Violet stowed her weapon and stood, awkwardly. “You speak English, girl?” She didn’t answer. Violet took it for a “no.” Despite this, she put her hands on her hips and asked, “Was you the one we saw that day? Did you follow us all the way from out there?” Violet pointed, as if to help her get her question across. The girl tilted her head, curiously. “Um.” Her words were cut short as Maple, having had her fill of the pond, came over to the girl and sniffed her curiously. The Indian blinked in surprise, before smiling and reaching up to pet her.

“You like her, huh?” Violet wasn’t sure if she was speaking to the girl or her horse by this point. She stepped forward cautiously. The girl didn’t seem scared. Violet pet Maple’s mane, watching the girl imitate her actions. “Her name’s Maple.” Violet reconsidered her words. She gestured to the horse. “Maple. May-puhl.” The girl stared, blankly. Violet enunciated slower. “Maaay-puuuhl.”

“Maaa-puuul,” she finally repeated.

Violet nodded. “Yeah, that’s right.” She then laid a hand on her own breast. “Violet. Vy-oh-lit.”

“Vy-lut.”

“Close enough. And what’s your name?” She pointed. “You.” The girl mimicked Violet and pointed to herself. “Yeah. Your name.”

“Nakishwana.”

Violet felt her head spin. Knocky-what-now? “Na…Nak…Can you say that again for me?”

“Nakishwana.” She paused. “Na-kee-shwa-nah.”

“Na-kee-shwa-nah.” Violet smiled proudly, surprised at her own tongue. “That’s a nice name.” Her eyes wandered to the beads on her neck. “Them’s mighty pretty. You made ‘em yourself?” She pointed to the necklace, and Nakishwana looked down at her jewelry, touching it lightly. She took one of the strands and pulled it from her neck. Surprisingly, she held it up for Violet to take.

Violet pulled back in surprise. “What? No, no, I didn’t mean—they’re yours! I can’t take these…” But Nakishwana smiled with the innocence only a child could have, and stood on her bare tiptoes to raise the necklace high. Without ceremony, she tossed it over Violet’s neck. It clattered as it settled on her collar. Violet noticed the beads were made out of bone and blue stones. Up close, they were truly majestic, swirling with different colors and shapes. Violet ran her fingers down the beads, feeling their weight. “My word…these are awfully beautiful.”

Nakishwana grinned, showing off a few missing childhood teeth. She said something Violet couldn’t begin to understand, and wandered over to the pond. Not bothering to hike up her cotton skirt, Nakishwana jumped feet first into the shallow water of the pond, the fish beneath it scattering. Humming, Nakishwana kicked and jumped, the water twinkling in the sunlight.

“Nakishwana!” Both Violet and the girl turned their heads as a voice called out. More words echoed through the trees. Nakishwana scampered off towards the forest, but stopped as a man blocked her path. He wore a mix of cotton and cowskin in a mismatched cobbling together of civility and wilderness. Two feathers adorned his shiny black hair, and his stern expression was only enhanced by the musket on his shoulder. The girl tried to spin away, but the man took her hand, keeping her there.

Violet stood, her own hand slowly going to her pistol. This was more the type of Indian she worried about. Despite its antiquity, a loaded musket could still do a fair amount of damage. At first, when the man’s eyes fell on Violet, his first instinct seemed to reflect Violet’s own. However, the minute he spotted the beads around Violet’s neck, his hand stopped half way to his gun. Instead, he turned down to Nakishwana and asked her a question. Nakishwana answered, and the man visibly relaxed. Finally, he addressed Violet.

“She say you friend.” His English wasn’t perfect, but it was understandable.

Violet hesitated to answer, but nodded. “That’s right,” she said. “She was just…” Violet gestured toward the pond. “Just havin’ fun, I guess.”

“Is alone?”

“Who, me? Oh um—” On the one hand, divulging her party’s location could end up in gunfire. On the other, a woman alone in the wilderness was bound to attract the wrong kind of attention. With a choice to make, she decided to stay honest. “No. I got my partners beyond that ridge there.” She gestured vaguely behind her. “They’re probably waitin’ for me, I bet.” She hesitated by Maple’s saddle, her eyes lingering on Nakishwana. “How far do y’all travel?”

The man seemed confused. “Travel? What is?”

“Yes. Do y’all…” Again, she made a non-specific motion with her hand. “Go farther than this? Say to the river up north?”

Violet could see his mind working tirelessly to decode her question. “No. We stay.” He waved his own hand, motioning towards the forest. “Safer. Stay away from white man.”

Violet smiled, bitterly. “You know that ain’t a half bad plan, friend.”

A gunshot cut through the air like thunder. Violet, who was ready to say her goodbyes, jumped and reached for her gun. She realized, in utter dismay, that there was a commotion coming from the direction of the Railwalkers. The two Natives were also on high alert, the young man keeping Nakishwana by his side, protectively.

Quickly, Violet mounted Maple and rushed through the trees and out the other end. With her line of sight clear, she saw the Railwalkers surrounded by a small horde of Indians on horseback, circling them threateningly. Without a thought of her own safety, Violet dug her heels into Maple’s ribs and flew towards them, her gun at the ready. She fired wildly into the air, drawing attention from the scene. She had no idea how she was going to fend off a gang of savages by herself, but she’d sure as hell try her hardest. Violet was thundering ahead, driven by her singular goal in mind, when she was halted; not by an attacking Indian, but by a friendly one. Sitting Bear quickly rode to block Maple, Violet’s horse rearing back in surprise at the appearance of his mustang.

“Stop,” he said, his voice forceful. “Do not beget violence.”

“Beget—? The hell are they doin’ then!?” Violet looked back over to the others, and realized with great confusion that none of the Railwalkers were putting up a fight. They sat on their saddles, stiff but compliant, their weapons barely touched. Violet turned back to Sitting Bear, baffled. “What in Sam Hill is goin’ on here?”

“They’ll be escortin’ us, according to Bear here.” Mei shifted in her seat. Violent could sense her discomfort, but Mei remained calm. “We’ll be guests of theirs tonight.”

“Why?” Violet demanded. She eyed the collection of red men with distaste. “We ain’t doin’ nothin’ but passin’ through.”

“We are trespassing,” Sitting Bear corrected calmly. “They want to be sure we mean them no harm. That is all.”

“Well, you can tell your damn friends that we ain’t gonna do shit, so they can just leave us be!”

“Violet.” Mei’s voice was stern, and calmed Violet’s nerves somewhat. Mei slipped from Huī’s saddle, hand on his bridle. “This is a peaceful exchange. And it’s gonna stay that way. Do you hear me?”

Violet was sour. The group of strangers watched her, no doubt ignorant of English, but clued into her distrust. Mei didn’t dare break eye contact until Violet finally yielded. In a huff, Violet dismounted. Sitting Bear, Linus, and Rory did likewise. On their feet, they walked alongside the group of Natives west of the forest that Violet had just occupied. Violet glanced over her shoulder, wondering if Nakishwana and her guardian were on their way to safety.

Violet wasn’t sure if the walk was long or the suspense made it longer. Her feet were sore half way through, as though protesting the direction. The Natives spoke to one another, and occasionally to Sitting Bear, who answered in his usual, slow manner, typically with one or two words. By the time the sun was directly overhead, they had reached the Indian encampment.

It was smaller than Violet had imagined, though what she was expecting even she wasn’t sure. Strange tents were grouped in handfuls. Most crowded around the edge of a creek to the south. The first thing Violet noticed was just how many women were there. Two were skinning hides, another weaving cloth. More were tending to vegetables or meats or fish around a small fire. Children chased each other through the tall grass and in and out of skinny trees. In a strange way, Violet was reminded of home. Much like Nakishwana, almost all of them wore a combination of animal skins and cotton wares, and many more had beads that were similar to the necklace she gave Violet.

The Indians led their horses to the edge of the river to drink with a few other wild mares. Violet felt an uncontrollable urge to snatch Maple’s bridle back and keep her close, but refrained. She had a feeling that any impulsive action would be more trouble than it was worth. Boiling under the surface, Violet sat near the center of the camp with the others and waited. She glared at the passing men and wrung her hands together in her lap.

“Now what?” she seethed.

“Now,” said Linus, “we wait.”

Wait they did. No Indian addressed them for some time. They were given water and some corn meal if they were hungry, but Violet didn’t have much of an appetite. She’d never been one for patience, even less so in such circumstances. She was just debating on pleading to Mei’s own discomfort when a familiar face caught her eye. Nakishwana, barefoot and bright as ever, walked through the camp, seemingly without noticing the Railwalkers.

“Nakishwana!” Violet called without thinking. The girl turned quickly, and seeing Violet, broke into a wide smile. As she rushed to Violet’s side, Violet felt a wave of relief she could not quite articulate. Without a trace of reserve, she threw her arms around Violet’s shoulders and embraced her tightly. Violet was so surprised, she laughed. When they broke apart, Violet spotted the questioning looks of her companions.

“Who’s this?” Mei asked.

“Oh.” Violet looked back to Nakishwana, whose eyes asked the same question. “I met her back in the woods. She gave me these.” Violet held up the beads. “I guess she’s from here…”

Before Violet could explain further, Nakishwana’s guardian appeared, clearly keeping her in his sights. When he saw Violet’s face, he blinked in surprise. “What you do here?” he said, his English stumbling.

Sitting Bear cocked a brow at Violet and then broke into his native dialect. The young man squinted. “You not sound Choctaw. What is?”

“Caddo,” said Sitting Bear. Violet wondered to herself just how different their languages really were. They all sounded the same to her. Sitting Bear spoke again, seeming to ask a question. The young man exchanged a glance with Nakishwana, weary. He answered, his own tongue far smoother than his hackneyed English. Sitting Bear translated. “This girl is the daughter of the tribe’s chief.”

“Chief?” Violet clarified. “What’s that mean? She like a princess or som’mit?”

“In a way,” said Linus. “A chief runs a tribe. That girl there is his heir.” Nakishwana smiled, her hands behind her back. Considering their first run-in together, it would make sense for her to have some sort of escort.

“And where’s this chief now?” Violet asked.

“I reckon we’re about to find out.” Mei was the one who answered, but her eyes were not on Violet. They were pointed straight forward, and Violet followed their line of sight. A man approached on horseback, dismounting just a few feet away from the Railwalkers. His posture was strong and tall, but his face was withered with age. Two long, silver braids ran on either side of his head. A cowboy’s hat, decorated with feathers, kept his face shadowed. First, he approached Nakishwana. The girl embraced him with the same energy as she had hugged Violet. He accepted her easily, even hoisting her from her feet. Violet saw a glimmer of a smile on his leathery visage as they held each other. After the reunion, the man set Nakishwana down and rounded to the “guests.” Sitting Bear, without prompt, began to speak. The old man held a hand, stopping him.

“English is acceptable.” His speech was calculated, like Sitting Bear’s, but less out of thoughtfulness and more out of suspicion. “I am Shanafila, Chief Blue Hawk. I welcome you, travelers, in peace.”

Sitting Bear stood, towering over Chief Blue Hawk easily. “We want nothing but,” he said. “If you allow us, we will be on our way.”

Chief Blue Hawk folded his arms, his brow furrowed beneath his brim. “I am afraid this is not so easy. We have had trouble from white men lately. Riders from the east who bring us bad fortune and destruction.”

“Understood,” said Sitting Bear. “But as you can see.” He held out his hand, presenting the rest of them. “There are no white men here.”

Chief Blue Hawk’s eyes scanned each of their faces. Then, his well-worn features twisted into a delightful smile. “You are clever, brother. What is your name?”

“I am Ku’nu’h-tiwit.”

“Sitting Bear,” Chief Blue Hawk repeated. “It does one well not to bother resting beasts…” His attention was garnered momentarily as Nakishwana tugged on his arm. He turned to her and she spoke quickly, pointing at Violet. Not knowing what else to do, Violet stood, her body tense. When Chief Blue Hawk looked back up, his eyes were glittering in amusement. “My daughter tells me you showed her kindness.”

Violet shifted. “I s’pose…She ain’t nothin’ but a little girl, after all.” What monster would harm one so innocent? Violet didn’t want to entertain the question for two long before she recalled an answer.

“Even so,” Chief Blue Hawk continued, “like must be met with like. We will be sure your intentions are honest, but you are no prisoners here. Let us feed you. Rest yourselves, and be on your way in the morning. From this day on, you will have found friends in us.” His eyes wandered further down until he found Rory, who for the most part had kept himself hidden behind Linus’s waistcoat. Linus’s arm wrapped around him protectively. Chief Blue Hawk said something to his daughter, and Nakishwana approached Rory with a bright expression. She held out her hand expectantly. Rory stalled, and looked up to Sitting Bear for clarification. Sitting Bear nodded. Carefully, Rory took Nakishwana’s hand. The minute their fingers touched, Nakishwana took off, practically dragging Rory behind her like a can on a string. A few laughed at the sight, Violet included. As she watched the children run towards a group of others waiting with a strange leather ball, Violet felt the tension in the air fade away into nothing. There was certainly still some irritation that their travels had been delayed, but seeing Rory with so many his own age was rewarding, in a way.

“Now.” Chief Blue Hawk returned to the rest. “Are you hungry?”

For the rest of the afternoon, Violet and the others were treated like proper guests, and given permission to roam the camp. Rory was preoccupied mostly with play, and Linus joined the women in their weaving, fascinated by their work. Sitting Bear floated from place to place, speaking to the other Natives on occasion. Violet was content to hover and watch from afar, and wondered if Mei would like to join her for a walk around the camp. Mei, however, did not seem interested in leisure, and returned to tend to the horses. Despite the positive outcome of the situation, Mei had an air of frustration about her, though she did not dare voice it. Violet had a feeling that Mei disliked being stopped more than Violet had.

Supper cooked in wide pots as the blue sky turned pink. Delicious smells wafted over the campsite, and Violet found a place to sit for the evening. Nakishwana motioned her to stay close to her and her family, with Rory not far off. Violet noticed that Rory now had three new necklaces, similar to her own gift, and lines of paint on his face. He was red-cheeked and panting, and wearing a smile that stretched from ear to ear. Settling in beside Nakishwana and the chief, Violet lingered on the girl before addressing Chief Blue Hawk.

“Uh…Sir?” She was unsure how one addressed a chief, but Chief Blue Hawk did not seem offended. He turned to her, a pipe in his hand. “How do you say your name again?”

“Shanafila,” Chief Blue Hawk said politely.

“And that means ‘blue hawk’?”

“It does.”

Violet put her hands in her lap and looked down to Nakishwana. She was already eating berries in a small bowl provided to her. “And what’s her name mean?”

“Nakishwana’s name?” Chief Blue Hawk pulled a small box of matches from his pocket and struck one against the side. He rested the flame against his tobacco, puffed twice, and blew a gentle stream into the sky. “Catfish.”

Violet paused. “Really?” Chief Blue Hawk nodded. “Huh…”

“Surprised?”

“A bit. I guess I figured a girl that important would have a name more…um…”

Chief Blue Hawk chuckled, and tapped a few loose ashes from his pipe. “I suppose much of our people do not meet your expectations.”

Violet jolted slightly. Perhaps Violet’s imagination was betraying her, but she felt that Chief Blue Hawk was the type of man who could pinpoint the troubles on your mind as though he knew them personally. For a split second, she could have sworn that Chief Blue Hawk knew of her misspeak the other day. “I guess not…” was all she could respond with.

Sitting Bear lumbered quietly into her line of sight, and Violet lifted her head. Though he was technically a guest of the Choctaws, he still carried supplies and helped prepare food. His expression never changed, but Violet could see a gentleness in his eye she never had before. He must feel more comfortable around his own, Violet thought. Her words came back to haunt her, and that familiar shame welled inside her belly. No doubt why. He ain’t a savage to them…Disappointed in herself, Violet laid her head on her knees in defeat.

“Something troubles you?” Chief Blue Hawk asked.

Violet shifted. “No,” she lied.

Chief Blue Hawk did not reply immediately, and instead took time to enjoy his pipe. It was a curious thing, with beads and feathers dangling from the wide end. “Good. I would hate to have a guest weighed down with worry.” His tone was knowing, almost smug. Violet turned back to Sitting Bear, who was now on his knees, helping to break apart herbs and vegetables. Nervous, Violet stood, dusted off her pants, and walked across the camp to where Sitting Bear worked. She could almost feel Chief Blue Hawk’s smile against her nape.

“Bear?” she called gently. Sitting Bear turned from the pot, hands clutching a bundle of dried herbs. Still, his face was stoic. “Can I uh…” She glanced at the women around them. “Can I have a word?” Sitting Bear hesitated before laying the herbs to the side and standing straight. He excused himself to the women, and he and Violet stepped away from the tents. When Sitting Bear rounded to her, Violet was immediately overwhelmed. So many words she wanted to say struggled to leave her first, which resulted in total, dumbfounded silence. Her mouth hung open uselessly and she tried to articulate with her hands. But she had a feeling that the gestures made it worse. After a few moments, Sitting Bear frowned in confusion.

“Are you sick?” he asked.

“I’m sorry.” Her voice found itself and words began spilling in a rapid pace. “I’m sorry for what I said. I didn’t mean it, but I know that don’t—I’m still learning things, see, and I know that ain’t no excuse for the way I think about y’all. But after so long of knowing you I shoulda understood what it was I was sayin’. Truth of the matter is, I don’t know you, not really. So that makes me scared. I ain’t never been this far from home, and I sure as hell ain’t never spent this time with no Indian. I’m tryin’ to learn everything all at once, and it’s hard, but I’ll try harder next time. I really don’t think y’all are savages, ‘specially not you.” She held her head as if to keep it from spinning. “All your life you hear one thing, over and over, you hear it from people you love, your family, so of course you think it’s true. I used to pretend I wasn’t scared, but how can I not be? So I—what I mean to say is I—”

Sitting Bear put a hand on her head. Violet stopped her rambling and looked up. She didn’t notice at first, but her eyes had started to prick with tears. Sitting Bear’s expression was kind and forgiving. A few final words managed to slip from Violet’s lips:

“I didn’t mean to hurt you none…”

Finally, Sitting Bear smiled. He said nothing. He didn’t need to. His thick fingers threaded through Violet’s hair, rustling it lovingly. It was like rocks were being shoved off her shoulders, and Violet could breathe easily again. Without reservation, Violet embraced Sitting Bear tight around the middle. He hugged her back.

Food was ready by the time the sun went down. Violet was given a simple, wooden bowl filled with some kind of unrecognizable stew. It certainly didn’t smell awful, it just wasn’t meat and potatoes. She took her seat next to the others, who already had their food. Rory was half way through his bowl before Violet had a bite of hers. Linus had Sitting Bear translate his compliments to the cooks. Mei, who sat at the other end of their row, stayed silent as the grave, focusing on her bowl. Violet frowned. It was one thing to be upset that their schedules were disrupted, but even Violet had grown comfortable in the Choctaw camp by now. Taking her food, she settled down on the far side next to Mei. “How’s yours?” she asked.

Mei grunted, sopping up some of her stew with a piece of bread. “S’food,” she said.

Violet took a few spoonfuls. She detected meat like chicken and some various game, but otherwise could identify no other ingredients. It was, however, quite good. “You sour over somethin’?”

“No.”

“You lyin’?”

“No.”

Violet put her chin in her hand, soup balanced on her knee. “You’ve been mighty hot since the minute we stepped on their grounds. You’re trying not to show it, but I can tell.”

“I ain’t hot.”

“Really?” Violet teased. “Then how’s about a big ol’ smile?”

Mei put her bowl down and rounded to Violet. “Don’t you have something better to do?”

“See?” Violet pointed at her. “Right there. Hell, you’re wrapped tighter than a new strung fiddle. What’s got you so wet, Mei?”

Mei snorted through her nose and went back to her soup. Violet wondered if this was just something else she’d keep close to her vest. But after a moment of thought, she spoke. “I don’t like detours.”

“Is that all it is? Shoot, I was a little peeved about that myself, but we’re leaving in the morning, ain’t we?”

“It’s not just that.” Mei scanned the camp with a frown. “We’re vulnerable out here. We keep to a small group, we keep moving, we’re harder to find. What if those lawmen stay hot on our trail and track us down? Not only are we in danger, the rest of these people are too.” Mei scraped the bottom of her bowl and swallowed the last of her supper. “I don’t like involving innocent lives in our affairs.”

Admittedly, Violet hadn’t thought of that, and was now bogged down with new worry. She caught sight of Nakishwana, who sat in her father’s lap, clapping along to someone playing a flute. She imagined a posse of armed men strolling through camp and opening fire indiscriminately. Violet felt a cold chill down her spine at the thought of a bullet meeting Nakishwana’s eyes. If anything ever happened to her because of them, Violet could never forgive herself.

“Maybe we can leave tonight? While they’re all sleepin’?”

Mei shook her head. “It’s better to stay,” she said. “Traveling at night in Indian Territory ain’t exactly advisable. Not everyone is hospitable as Chief Blue Hawk.”

“Oh…that reminds me.” Violet set her bowl aside. “That face I saw days ago…I asked Nakishwana’s guard and he says their people don’t go out that far. Do you think we’re being followed?”

“Perhaps,” Mei nodded. “Could just be a scout, looking for supplies to scavenge. Either way, less of a threat than our normal fare. Still, we’ll keep an eye out as we move into Mexico. We’re going to have to anyway.”

“For what?”

“Bandits. And plenty of them.” Violet’s face must have drained in color, because the minute Mei caught sight of it, she put on a more congenial smile. “Don’t you worry now.” She tapped her faithful rifle at her side. “I ain’t met no gun yet that could out shoot mine. Still, we’ll be careful ridin’ south.”

Violet put her hands in her lap, staring out into the vast, dark landscape. Perhaps her mind was imagining things, but she could almost see details of gun wielding, murderous men on the horizon. “I might need to practice more than once a day,” she figured.

“You just might,” Mei agreed. A little more relaxed, she turned to Violet. “Care to work off your supper?” Violet nodded, and they left the campfire to find a nice, secluded patch of grass to themselves. Like usual, Mei took her stance and asked, “Are you ready?”

Violet, her hat tossed aside, held up her fists and nodded firmly. “Have at it.”

The practice went as expected. Mei danced around Violet’s strikes with ease, and broke through Violet’s defenses with quick precision. Violet, by now, would manage to get in one or two rounded hits by the end, but never much more than that. Still, Violet noticed, she was starting to become less tired at the end of their sessions, and the bruises stung less with every day. After taking a few square hits to the stomach, Violet reared back, winded. Mei allowed her to catch her breath. “Care to stop?” she asked.

Violet glanced up from where she was bent down. The memory of Mei’s first sucker punch was still fresh in her mind. Violet, in her own way, had been waiting for a chance to repay that love tap tenfold when Mei was least expecting it. So as she curled forward, clutching her sore stomach, she noticed with delight that Mei had left herself open and unguarded. Without a word to answer her, Violet leapt forward, launching her shoulder into Mei’s solar plexus. With a great “oof!” Mei collapsed to the dirt, Violet on top of her. There was a confusing mess of arms and mud, but when the pair of them settled down, Violet had remained on top, pinning Mei’s shoulders flat to the ground. Her legs pressed firmly against Mei’s thighs, keeping them still. Violet’s hair, wild and intertwined with bits of nature, fell to one side of her face. The ends barely touched the sharp curve of Mei’s cheek. The moonlight, spread evenly against the mossy floor, painted over Mei’s features like a fresh frost. Violet could almost count every long lash on her eyelids. It was a moment before Violet realized how long she’d been staring.

“I guess you win,” said Mei quietly. Her smile was small, but something about the twinkle in her eye felt deliciously salacious. Violet could feel the strength of Mei’s legs, even while resting beneath Violet’s ankles. Violet had no doubt that Mei could easily knock her off with one hard push, but refrained. Violet could only guess that Mei enjoyed the game too much to end it just yet.

Unnerved, Violet rolled off Mei and fell to the grass. Up above, the starlight winked in and out of existence. A bird danced through the night sky, outlined by the moon. They laid together for a time, listening to the echoes of the camp, and the quietness of the prairie. Finally, Mei sat up.

“It’s late,” she said. She offered Violet her hand and pulled her to her feet. “Gotta make up for lost time tomorrow. Let’s turn in.” Violet agreed, and Mei headed back towards the camp. Violet was ready to follow in her lead, when a rustling caught her attention.

Violet turned, her ears sharp. The world was silent. Her heart pounded, and she peered deeper into the dark. She felt chills run up her spine as she remembered Mei’s forewarning about the bandits that awaited them south of the Rio Grande. And again, she recalled that mysterious face from before. Violet took a tentative step forward, only to realize her gun belt had been left back at camp. She waited for another sign of life, but felt as though whatever it was watching her was holding its breath until she moved on.

“Violet!” Mei’s voice distracted her, and she looked over her shoulder. Mei was motioning her to return to camp. Violet rounded to the brush, but the sensation had faded. Uneasy, Violet forced herself to head back into the firelight.

Chapter 9

The sleeping arrangements at the Choctaw camp was little more than a bed of furs under the stars, but Violet found that she slept better than she had in a bed for nearly two months. She didn’t even remember falling asleep; one minute, she was nestled into a cocoon of animal skin, and the next, the sun was up and she was being roused for breakfast. Her stomach was eager for a hot meal, and she retrieved her plate without delay. Linus had taken the horses to the stream one last time before traveling, and Sitting Bear spoke to Chief Blue Hawk alone. Rory was gifted more handmade toys and beads than he could possibly imagine. Only Mei seemed eager to leave the camp.

“Are we gonna pass through here again?” Violet asked Mei.

“Perhaps,” she said. “Though after we get our wire down in Mexico, we head out west. Hopefully we get to Nevada before the end of summer. Though I’m not lookin’ forward to that heat.”

“Why are we goin’ west? Got yourself another target or somethin’?”

Mei nodded, lacing up her boots. “A pretty big one at that. Been tracking him for years, this one.”

“Years?” For some reason, the idea of a long term mark seemed odd for the Railwalkers. “What’s he done?”

“He’s a railroad mogul.” Mei stood up straight and dusted off her pants. “Got rich when the Continental got built, mainly because he underpaid and overworked his labor. Men died making his fortune. Hundreds of them.”

“Lord…” Violet tried to imagine a hundred bodies piled up on the side of the railroad tracks. It was nearly impossible. “And he’s in California?”

“He is. At least, last I heard he is.” Mei put her hands on her hips and stared into the distance. “He moves far too often for my tastes. After he made his money in steamers, he began dancing around the country, living a life of leisure. Of course, ain’t no one tried to make him answer for his crimes.”

“And that’s where we come in?”

Mei suddenly smirked. “‘We’?” she clarified. “You plannin’ on riding with us to take him down?”

Violet realized the implication, and considered correcting herself, but refrained. She huffed. “I’m with you, ain’t I? I’m getting better at fighting—hell, I was in a fire fight with y’all!”

“So you fancy yourself a Railwalker then?”

“That’s not what I—!” Violet stumbled on her words. “Now you’re just makin’ fun.”

“I’m not,” said Mei innocently. “In fact, part of me is a bit proud to hear you say that. Feels like you’re one of the family these days anyhow.”

Family…Violet hadn’t framed it quite like that before, but now that Mei mentioned it, Violet could see what she meant. Rory was loved and cared for like a proper child. Linus and Sitting Bear made the meals and kept an eye out for danger. And Mei? A funny thought crossed Violet’s mind and she snickered.

“What’s so funny?”

“Well I mean…if we’re all family, I’d say you’re the father around here.”

Mei snorted. “Am I now? Silly girl.”

But Violet couldn’t help herself; she only laughed louder. “Papa Mei! That’s what you are!”

Mei’s smile widened. “Then who’d my mama be? You?” She seemed to derive great pleasure from Violet’s red cheeks, but didn’t tease any further. “Let’s hit the road. Daylight’s burning.”

With the horses packed, the Railwalkers said their final goodbyes. From the crowd, Nakishwana approached Violet to give her a great big hug around her shoulders. Violet squeezed the girl with all her might, making the hug last for as long as she was able. Those terrible worries from the night before returned to her. She could only pray that those lawmen had lost their trail by now. Violet made a promise to herself to return to the camp one day. When they at last departed, Violet kept glancing behind her, watching the camp sink further and further into the distance until it blinked out of sight.

So began their trek deeper into Indian Territory. The foliage became less lush and more widespread, with overgrown wild grass prickling at their pant legs. Well-trodden dirt pathways twisted this way and that along the flat horizon. Tiny streams trickled alongside them, only to be muddied by dark red clay riverbanks. There was a dryness to the air Violet was not used to, and by mid-day, her lips were chapped painfully. She drank from her canteen until it was bone dry. It was an hour before sundown when they stopped to make camp. A flat ridge provided a perfect spot for the evening, and they went to work before losing too much light.

As Violet prepped her sleeping roll, she glanced up, and caught a curious sight. Their ridge was a good twenty feet up from the rest of the ground, hidden by thin trees. However, there was a clear line of sight from where they were setting up, and where a small Indian village sat peacefully miles off. This was not the collection of tents that she had seen with the Chocktaws, but rounded homes and huts made of all kinds of material. The details were too far for Violet to make out, but she could detect mounting stacks of smoke, and the faintest image of moving people.

“Think we’ll be safe?” she asked.

Mei crouched down next to her and peered out. She nodded. “I think them might be the Chickasaw. Bear?” Sitting Bear nodded. “I think it’s best if we stay out of sight for now. Keep to the river down yonder, keep to the bushes, and get to Texas as fast as we can.” Violet wouldn’t argue with that.

The night transpired as any other would. They ate, they chatted lightly, and they went to bed. Violet had had a rather rough night of sleep; probably the worst since hitting the road after Little Rock. She woke in a cold sweat an hour before sunup. The sky was pale, the light just barely fogging the horizon. There was a damp chill in the air, which did no favors to her already slick skin. Violet was considering getting up to relieve herself when a shuffling drew her attention. Squinting, Violet lifted her head.

An unknown figure was searching through their supply bags.

Violet’s first instinct was to act quickly, but she knew it’d be better if she did so in silence. Carefully as she could, she rolled onto one knee, her hand diving for the gun beneath her coat. The stranger was brown skinned, but unlike the Choctaw, wore no civilized clothes at all. His back was turned to Violet, but the only thing he wore was a swath of hide tethered to his narrow waist. He was indeed rather thin, with wispy hair mangled along his bony back. His movements were quick, and barely made any sound at all, leaving the other Railwalkers to sleep in peace.

Steadily as she could manage, Violet rose, her pistol aimed. She cocked back the hammer, the click making the stranger freeze, hand halfway down one of their kitchen bags. “You best turn around and drop everything,” Violet breathed. She had a feeling that the man could not understand English, but the sound of a gun overcame all language barriers. The man glanced behind his shoulder. His eyes were wide, and sunken above dark bags in his skin. Yet he didn’t seem much older than Violet herself, perhaps even younger. Seeing the barrel of the gun, the man dropped the bag and turned to face Violet. She felt a ping of realization.

“You…you was the one who’s following us, ain’tchya?” The man gave no response, keeping his hands waist height. Violet edged closer. Now in the dim morning light, she could see muddied marks on his face and arms. It looked like residual red paint that had been mostly washed away by the elements. Violet flicked the gun to the side. “Stand over there. Go on. Move.” After goading a couple more moments, the man seemed to understand and followed her instruction. He stepped away from the camp. Keeping him in her sights, Violet nudged Mei’s shoulder.

“Mhuah…” Mei blinked awake, drowsily. “Wha? Violet? Somethin’ wrong?”

“We got us a vulture,” she said. Mei stood and looked the man over. “I told you we was bein’ followed. He’s probably been pickin’ off our food while we’re sleepin’. Night after night.”

Mei scanned him. “Can’t say I blame him much. Good wind could knock him over.” That was true, he certainly looked hungry. Mei went to Sitting Bear and roused him. When she explained the situation, Sitting Bear stood and observed their intruder. He said a few words. The stranger did not respond. “Well?” said Mei.

“I do not think he is Choctaw,” he said. “Or Chickasaw or Caddo. He does not understand me.”

“What’s that mean?” Violet asked. “Ain’t y’all share the same language? Like your own English or summit?”

“There are some that are similar,” Sitting Bear explained. “And there are some that are not. I learned to speak Choctaw and Chickasaw, as they were our neighbors.” He shook his head. “From what I can tell, this boy is Apache.” The stranger’s head perked at the final word. It was all Violet needed as evidence.

“Apache?” she repeated. Mrs. Donovan never liked Violet listening to sensationalist stories, but a few managed to slip through the cracks in Violet’s childhood. The word “apache” was one she definitely remembered. She took a half step back without realizing it, her hand tighter on the butt of her pistol. “Ain’t they…y’know…” She cast frightened eyes onto the boy, who probably weighed at least ten pounds lighter than she did. Still, that brand alone was enough to shake her. “I heard stories that they cut off your head. Or well…” She tapped her crown. “Your scalp. Don’t they?”

Mei snorted. She thumbed to their stranger. “Does that boy look like he’s about to scalp you?”

“Well…no…”

“Some Apache are fearsome warriors,” said Sitting Bear. “As are some Choctaw. And some Caddo. And yes, some took scalps in their battles.”

“Then he’s dangerous! What are we gonna do? We can’t have him here! What if he tries something?!”

“Oh relax, child.” Mei approached the Apache fearlessly. Standing side by side, she rose above him by a head and a half. “Look here.” She took him by the arm and held it out. It was as slender as a tree branch. “I doubt he could whittle wood much less scalp a fella. Put your gun down, Violet.” She certainly had reservations, but obliged. “Wake Linus up now, wouldya?” Violet uncocked her pistol and shook Linus awake. Groggy, he put on his glasses. “We still got enough flour for hotcakes, Linus?”

“Hotcakes?” Linus yawned. Halfway through, he noticed their guest. “Oh.” He turned to Sitting Bear. “Friend of yours?”

That morning, Linus cooked up a thick stack of pancakes, shared among the six of them. Once the Apache realized that he was safe from danger, he took a seat by the fire and warmed his bare hands and feet. Calluses layered his palms like sediment, and his feet were black from dirt. A nagging voice told Violet she shouldn’t have been suspicious after the debacle with Sitting Bear, but damn it, there was a real reason this time! What kind of person wasn’t suspicious of some stranger riffling through their gear? The thought swirled in Violet’s mind until bringing her to a rather sour mood, and she ate her breakfast in silence. After food, Sitting Bear did his best to try and ask where he was from. The Apache was unsure of the questions, but seemed to get the gist. He pointed south west from their camp, far beyond the Chickasaw grounds. He was a ways from home.

“I think he is trying to get back,” Sitting Bear summarized. “He must have been all the way up in Cherokee territory. Quite far.”

“Mm.” Linus licked his fingers. “Ain’t Apache country on our way? Maybe he can tag along with us?”

Violet’s mood worsened at the suggestion. “So we just wander on into Apache land like it’s safe?” she scoffed. “This one might not be ready to take our scalps, but who’s to say his brothers ain’t?”

“That’s enough outta you,” Mei scolded. “No one’s gonna scalp no one. You white folk get so nervous ‘round anything brown.”

Violet flared. “This ain’t about him bein’ brown!” she snapped. “Y’all might be fine and dandy ‘bout trouncin’ off into unknown territory, but I sure as hell ain’t! You said it yourselves, there’s real danger out here! Not to mention that Bear here can’t speak a lick of Apache, so how do y’all know that they’ll be so grateful to see this one again? What if they chased him out, and here we is, bringin’ him back? Why they’ll spear us before we get a chance to try and explain by shaking our damned be-hinds!”

The camp was silent. The boys’ eyes bounced between Violet and Mei, as though they were handling a great hive of bees, and all were waiting to see who got stung first. After a few tense moments, Mei let out a deep sigh; the kind that signaled her surrender. “You got a point,” she said, eyes troubled.

A wave of relief washed over Violet. “Thank you,” she breathed. “I know y’all like to help people, but it could be real trouble for us if it goes badly.”

Mei nodded in agreement.

“Tell you what.” Mei took a sip of her bitter coffee. “There’s a river along our way that splits off into Apache territory. We take him that far, and then we part ways. Does that sound better?”

Violet nodded. “Much,” she said.

And so their day began. The Apache understood that he was to come with, and kept politely out of the way as they packed. While the Railwalkers rode, the Apache walked. He didn’t act like he minded. As they rode west, they passed by the Chickasaw encampment, and Violet chanced a glance one last time. On the hill, just close enough to see detail, Violet saw a great woman standing in furs and feathers, watching the sun rise.

* * * *

The Apache gave them no trouble for the next two days. In fact, he even proved to be a help. He gathered kindling for fires, found berries and small game to eat, and even kept watch during their meals. Their first night together, Rory had taken to calling him “Tiger,” because of the stripes of his paint. “I saw a tiger once,” Rory boasted that night. “We was down south, and there was this travelin’ row of carts come through town. I’ll never forget it! This big ol’ cat, with all these black stripes, like scars. It was so big, it probably coulda gobbled me up in one bite!” Other than the stripes, Violet thought that Tiger didn’t entirely fit the description, but the nickname stuck.

They approached the river sooner than Violet thought they would. It’d grown warmer in their travels, so the stream air was a welcomed change. It was flatter here, with trees occasionally breaking up the skyline, but not as often as before. Flat land rolled on into the distance, just barely touching a mountain range miles away. The six of them stopped for food and water. Tiger looked around, seeming to gather his bearings. Sitting Bear approached, and after a series of gestures between them, he managed to get the point across. They would be parting ways here. The Railwalkers would go west, and Tiger would go south. Sitting Bear gave him a small package of food for his travels, and an old spare coat he had tucked away in his saddle bag. Tiger nodded in thanks, clutching the supplies to his chest. He and Violet shared a momentary glance, before he spun about and started on his way.

“Tiger,” Violet called. Tiger knew enough by now to react to his nickname, and turned to Violet. She hesitated before approaching. “I know you probably don’t hear a word of this, but…I hope you make it home. I really do.” She smiled. “It’s a precious thing, goin’ home. So I wish you luck.” Of course, Tiger gave no response, but he seemed to understand the sentiment. He mimicked Violet’s smile and nodded. With that last little exchange, Tiger headed south.

The Railwalkers watered their horses and set off west from there. The foliage of the land dwindled into dried shrubs and prairie grass the longer they walked it. The horizon sloped from rolling flora to a flat swath of land that stretched into eternity. As the sun rose higher and hotter, Violet found herself swatting more flies than she ever had before. The air was rife with them, so much so that she wondered if God had laid plague to the place. The rising stench of cow pastures came to greet them by mid-afternoon as they passed acres and acres of steed. The sweat from Violet’s skin stuck to her clothes, even after she removed her jacket and unbuttoned her shirt to alleviate the heat. They must have been dipping into summer by now, though Violet couldn’t remember the last time she saw a calendar. The nights were the only reprieve from the beating sun, and the early mornings woke Violet with cold shivers.

After four days of flat land and the occasional cattle ranch, they came upon a most beautiful sight. A train in the distance had chugged into a stop, just a mile or so off from where they were. The station itself was little more than a small office and a water tower. In fact, upon further inspection, the train had no cars for passengers. Edging closer as the train idled for fresh water, the Railwalkers were quick to realize that the train’s cargo was nothing but heads of cattle and bales of hay.

“It’s headin’ south,” Mei said. Her eyes scanned the sixteen cars attached to the locomotive. “That one there.” She nodded at a car near the back. Bits of hay were slipping from the sliding doors. “We hop on there and we get to Mexico in no time at all.” Violet craned her neck, but thankfully, the conductor was clear on the other side of the train, keeping them out of his field of view.

Moving quickly, they made for the hay car, slid the door open, and led their horses inside. It was cramped, certainly, and they had to rearrange a few large stacks to accommodate everyone, but eventually, all nine bodies were situated just as the train jerked itself to life. They kept the door open to encourage the breeze, put their feet up, and enjoyed their new luxury.

There was no means to start a fire on the train—obviously—so they ate up the rest of their dry and canned goods. Even with the plethora of supplies gained over their travels, they were running low. No doubt the run-in with Tiger did not help that fact. Still, Violet found no grudge in her heart for the Apache. She meant what she said; if only she could go home as easily as Tiger.

After eating the last of their tack and cornbread, Violet settled near the open train door, watching the landscape pass. The sky was growing steadily pinker, and the air sighed with relief at the cooler earth. Relaxed and satisfied, Violet let one boot dangle off the edge of the car, swaying with the gentle rock and clatter of the tracks. Linus had taken up his harmonica, and Rory decided to try his luck braiding some of the loose strands of hay laying around. Sitting Bear dozed off early, and Mei, cigarette in hand, made her seat opposite of Violet. “Sure is pretty, huh?” She cupped her lighter with her hand, holding the flame to the end of her rolled paper. The ember grew bright as the sunset itself before she brought the flame away. She took a deep, relaxed drag, head leaning against a hay bale behind her. Her long, inky hair danced in the wind, like thousands of black spider webs. Lighter than air. “We sure as hell got a lucky break, I’ll tell you that. This cuts down travel time by about a week.”

“Small miracles,” Violet chimed in.

“Big ones, more like.” Mei took another drag of her cigarette. They sat in silent content for some time, Violet watching the sun dip lower in the sky before vanishing all together behind the wide, flat horizon. Violet chuckled. Mei looked at her, curiously. “Penny for your thoughts?”

“Just…a train.” Violet tapped her knuckles on the hardwood below her. “A bit poetic, ain’t it? It’s how we met for the first time.”

It took Mei a moment before recollecting. “Oh yeah.” She itched the side of her face. “The train you saw us on. What was it now? Six years ago?”

“Ten.”

Mei let out a low whistle. “Mighty long time to keep that memory. Though I guess it’s not every day you witness somethin’ like that.”

“It’s not,” Violet admitted.

“Still. I wouldn’t say we ‘met’ that day,” Mei continued. “Hell, I don’t even remember it myself. Though I suppose that’s fair, all things considered.”

Violet smiled. “Oh, we met,” she said. “I remember it, clear as day. Y’all were stalking down the aisle, guns raised, and you paused. You stopped right at my seat and saw me. I was so fascinated, I couldn’t look away if I wanted to. I never saw what was under your handkerchief, but I remember those eyes. Black as night, bright as day. And just as y’all were ready to abscond with your target, you turned to me one last time, and you smiled.” Violet nodded, recalling the image herself. “Yes ma’am. You smiled right at me. I’d say that’s as good as a ‘how do you do’.”

Mei gazed into the distance, her solid brows knit in thought. Then, after a moment of pondering, her face cracked with remembrance, almost surprise, and she rounded back to Violet. “I do, I do remember you!” she exclaimed. “Yes, that little frilly girl who was starin’ me down! That was you?” She bellowed with laughter, hand on her stomach. “Oh Lord! What a strange world we live in.” They laughed together in good spirits. Without noticing it, Violet had let her upper leg stretch out comfortably. The ankle of her boot was soon nestled just under Mei’s bent knee. Before long, their legs were comfortably intertwined like knitting yarn.

The night went on. The train swayed, gently lulling the others to sleep. Violet and Mei remained awake, indulging in small chatter that never seemed to end. Mei indulged Violet with her past adventures, and Violet rambled on about her life at home. They spoke frankly with one another, laughing, sighing, smiling, frowning in all the right places. It was well into the evening before Violet felt even the slightest bit tired. The chill caught up to her first, and she wrapped her jacket around her tightly.

“Think we should close the door?” she asked.

Mei shook her head. “Better to leave ‘em open in case we need a quick exit.” She stood and stretched her arms, yawning widely. It was about that time. Mei gestured to a small nook in some of the hay bales. “There we go. Come on.” She held out her hand for Violet to take, and brought her to her feet.

The crevice was just big enough for the pair of them to fit. It was a good thing too; there was barely any room anywhere else in the car. Mei laid down her bedroll and a blanket, and let Violet get cozy first. She kicked off her boots and shuffled into the nook of hay, pounding the lumpy feed to try and find a more comfortable position. When she had settled, Mei did the same, and took the space on Violet’s left. They shifted awkwardly for a time, but eventually found comfort with Mei’s arm around Violet’s shoulders. Violet laid her head against Mei’s collarbone, listening to the gentle beating of Mei’s heart. Her hand naturally conformed to Mei’s stomach beneath the blanket. Their breathing matched soon enough, and between the gentle embrace and the rocking of the train, Violet fell to sleep almost instantly.

They stayed on the train car for a little over a day and a half after that. If they’d taken any more time, they wouldn’t have the food to support themselves. They passed stations and tiny towns along the way, occasionally catching glimpses of stage coaches and busy roads. Fortune seemed to smile on them when the train they settled on turned out to be one for cargo and livestock. Had they found a passenger locomotive, they probably would have had to make more than a few unwanted stops. After the snafu in Van Buren, all agreed it would behoove them to keep their tourism to a minimum. The train was well into west Texas by the time it stopped for another watering. Keeping quiet, the Railwalkers made a smooth exit, and continued south.

Texas was dustier than any land Violet had stepped foot on. It was flat, like Indian Territory, but with nothing but bramble to dot its landscape. The hot moisture was replaced by an unrelenting, dry heat. Water, Violet realized, was scarce there, and the Railwalkers took to conserving as much as they could. On their second day of Texas travel, they came upon a strange crop of plant and took pause. It had like gigantic, green leaves, perforated with thousands of long needles. On the crown of some of the taller spines were bushels of bright red fruit.

“Prickly pear cactus,” Linus announced, dismounting Ginger. He took out a long pocket knife and began to saw a few fruits from their perches. “A rare blessing in a place like this.” Holding it by his fingertips, he skillfully skinned the pear, and the needles along with it. “Let’s get to it.”

The rest of their afternoon was spent harvesting the red fruits. Violet tried to be as careful as she could, but found herself poked and prodded on more than one occasion. The meat, Violet found, reminded her of warm watermelon, but sweeter. It was juicer than she expected, especially given its origin, and eased her chapped lips instantly. They harvested what they could, and made their camp just as the sun went down. Their rattler strings were doubled these nights, as an extra precaution. Between the threat of snakes and the distant howl of coyotes, Violet got very little sleep out on the Texas plains.

“Tell me about where we’re goin’,” she asked that night.

Mei, who was idly carving a dethorned chunk of cactus, was the one to answer. “It’s called the Casa de Huesos. Means ‘the house of bones.’ It’s nicer than it sounds, I promise.”

“And we won’t find no trouble there?”

“At Bone House?” Linus chimed in. “Hell no. It’s one of the few places we know we’re safe as can be. Mostly due to Madam Hen.” He stirred their stew pot, which was currently boiling chunks of cactus and pear.

“Who’s she?” Violet pried.

“The woman who runs the place,” Linus answered. “We’ve been welcome there for years due to her. She’s a little…much to most folk, I’d say, but kinder than the bunch. She’s been a damn miracle to us on occasion.”

“Usually when the law gets a little too close to our tail feathers,” Mei added.

“How much further?” Violet asked.

“Oh, I’d say…” Mei held up her thumb to the stars and closed an eye. “Hm…Another day or two? Maybe less, weather permitting.”

Violet laid along the ground, trying to imagine who this Madam Hen might be. She wondered if she was anything like the slippery Ruby, who was so keen on Mei’s arrival. The memory brought a sour taste to Violet’s mouth and she frowned. The image of Mei and Ruby, straddled and half nude together, twisted Violet’s stomach in an unusual heat. She tried to rationalize the sensation. Why would she feel so strongly to such a sight?

Well, she thought, it’s downright embarrassing is what it is. Walking in on two people so indecent like…Yet the longer she lingered on the image, the more her frustration fell with Ruby. Why not Mei? Mei’s a friend, she argued with herself. Her business is her business and all that. But that Ruby is just a lecherous snake! Just wants Mei for her money, and nothing else. Mei deserves a better woman than that, no doubt! So then what if this Madam Hen was the better woman? She can’t be! No way, no how. How could she be any better than that Ruby tramp if Mei only ever sees her once every so often? No, sir. Mei needs a good woman. A good, firm, loyal woman, and nothing less.

So who fits that bill?

Me?

Violet was not prepared for such a thought. She rolled her back to the fire to hide her stricken expression. No, no, certainly not! I’m not…Her thoughts trailed away, and she very gingerly cast her gaze over her shoulder. Mei was engrossed within her work carving the cactus. The firelight danced along her sharp features, twinkling against those deep, night sky eyes. Violet turned back around before Mei caught sight of her.

No, she concluded firmly. I don’t think anything less of Mei for sure, but I’m not…like that. Violet spent the rest of her night convincing herself of this. As she fell asleep, she could not decide if she had succeeded.

* * * *

“Bone House,” Violet soon came to realize, was very aptly named. It also wasn’t so much a house as it was a small compound enveloped by flimsy fences to keep the tumbleweeds out. The Bone House itself was a center structure, made of hard clay, surrounded by smaller, lopsided shanties and shacks. It was decked out with clay sculptures of skulls and skeletons, some painted in bright, beautiful colors the likes of which Violet had never seen. Along the premises, brown men and women loitered with cows, chickens, pigs, and a few shaggy dogs, gnawing on scraps of meat.

Dismounting their horses, they walked them to the stables. The locals smiled and waved at the Railwalkers, some greeting the troop in bits of Spanish. Surprisingly, Linus answered back in kind. A young, nubile woman was the first to approach. She was willowy and tender, with wispy hair and painterly features. She addressed Mei directly.

“Holá, señora. Been traveling long?” Even her voice was like a melody.

Mei removed her hat and dusted it. “Long as ever,” she said. “Hopin’ we could stay a spill.”

The gentle girl grinned and nodded emphatically. Violet felt a ping of ripe jealousy. Was this delicate creature Madam Hen? Violet’s eyes bounced between her and Mei, wondering if she should intervene, or even if she could. Mei seemed to sense her unease, because she rounded to Violet and presented her to the girl. “Lupita,” she said, “this here’s Violet. Newcomer on our travels. Violet, this is Guadalupe, the milk maid around here.”

The milk maid! Violet was flushed with relief, and took Lupita’s hand. Despite her gentle nature, Violet could sense the skin of a hard worker on her fingers. Violet smiled, feeling all the more friendly.

“How do you do, miss? Pleasure to be here. Heard nice things…” Violet cleared her throat, hoping that her brief spit of green was unnoticed by the others. “So uh…Where is—?”

“¡MIJA!”

Violet turned to a booming voice and saw, on the steps of the main house, the biggest woman Violet had ever laid eyes on. She was about as tall as Sitting Bear, with open arms that could squeeze a tree trunk in half. She wore a flowery, colorful cotton dress, swooped over her rounded shoulders. Bangles and beads hung from every inch of her neck and wrists, including two giant, golden earrings beneath wafts of thick, curly black hair. She left the steps, barefoot, and approached the Railwalkers in glee. She and Mei embraced, and how Mei was able to stay in one piece was a mystery to Violet all together.

“¡Mija cariñosa! ¿Donde tú has estabas todo este tiempo?”

Mei smiled. “English, Henny.”

Linus leaned forward, grinning from ear to ear. “She says, ‘how come you ain’t been by recently’?”

“Ah!” The woman rounded to Linus and kissed both of his black cheeks. “Mi amor, I am so glad to see you! Why didn’t you say you’d be coming? I would have made myself decent!” She fanned her face, which was painted with numerous, vibrant colors, much like the Bone House itself. Her eyes cast onto Sitting Bear, and she fluttered them enchantingly. “And here is my Oso Rojo.” She held out her hand, and Sitting Bear kissed her knuckles.

“Henny!” Rory bounded up from where he’d been hiding, and the woman pulled him into her arms and settled him on her hip.

“¡Mira que has crecido Rory! Que grande y fuerte tu eres.” She kissed Rory’s cheek. Then, finally, her gaze fell to Violet. “And who might this be?”

“Violet,” Mei stepped forward, “this is Madam Hen. The Bone House is her establishment, and we are her guests.” There was a meaningful intention in her eye. “More’n that, she’s our dear friend. So I want you to treat her with the utmost, you hear me?”

Violet nodded, though she hadn’t been able to tear her eyes away from Madam Hen since her entrance. She was the exact opposite of the gentle-faced Lupita Violet met moments ago. Her jaw was sharp and square. Her neck was thick as a log, and decorated with lace and ribbon to match her multicolored dress, which was dominated by greens and blues. Her arms were rife with thick, smooth hair, and there seemed to be short whiskers budding on her jawline. To be totally honest, Violet wasn’t sure what to make of her.

No doubt Madam Hen took notice, for her smile curled in a peculiar way. But rather than take offense to Violet’s stare, she reached out and took her hand kindly. “Come, child. Mí casa es su casa. Let me get you something to eat.” A little winded, Violet walked into the Bone House, escorted by Madam Hen (still cradling Rory), with the Railwalkers trailing behind them.

Walking in, Violet was immediately taken by how much was in front of her. The Bone House’s interior was no bigger or smaller than most buildings, but it was flooded from floorboard to ceiling with color. Flags and cotton drapery made out of scrapped clothing. Candles siting on mountains and mountains of rainbow wax. Statues and carvings and paintings on the walls. The chimneys of the oil lamps were caked with black smoke, as was the wide mouthed fireplace. There was an uneven bar by the back, with two old bayonets crisscrossed against a dingy mirror. The shelves were stocked with all sorts of dusty bottles, most of which had no labels. A portly man with a finely waxed mustache was wiping the lip of a crusty glass when Madam Hen led the Railwalkers to the bar. The man smiled as she approached.

“Cinco platos, Hernando. Huevos, carne, tortillas. Y leche para Rorito.”

“Claro Doña Gallina.”

With that exchange, the mustached man (Hernando, Violet guessed) left the bar and vanished through a pair of swinging saloon doors into a back room. Madam Hen set Rory down on one of the bar stools and addressed the party. “So,” she cooed, “to what do I owe this visit?”

“To be honest, we weren’t planning on stopping in,” Mei answered. “Finished a job, but no means of collecting. Things got a little hot in the last town we was in. Figured we could use your wire to get our pay.”

“¡Ay! You never come to see me anymore, mija. What’s an old woman to do when she isn’t wanted?” Dramatically, she leaned against the bar and put a hand to her breast, letting her head roll back for added effect. She reminded Violet of an old-fashioned painting. “I suppose I shall just waste away to nothingness…¡Visitame a mi tumba mija!”

Mei snorted, hands on her hips. “Knock it off, Henny. We’re happy to see you, as always.”

Madam Hen straightened and fixed her bodice. “Of course you are. Who isn’t?” She flicked her hand towards a table, and they all sat themselves. Rory, whose head barely broke the surface, switched to his knees, and balanced himself as such. “You’ve come at a good time, at any rate.” She pursed her lips in a playful way, one finger to the corner of her mouth. “Tomorrow night, we celebrate the most holy of festivals! Dancing, singing, music, food, everyone is already on their way!”

“Festival?” Violet’s curiosity piqued and she leaned in slightly. “Celebratin’ what?”

Madam Hen chuckled and threw her shoulders back. “Me.” Violet blinked, unsure of what to make of such an answer. Thankfully, Madam Hen elaborated. “It’s my birthday tomorrow. I have friends coming in from all over to help me celebrate.”

“Oh. How old are ya?”

Madam Hen answered Violet’s question with a string of Spanish that sounded like a hissing cat. Violet jumped in her seat, and desperately looked to Linus for translation. Linus chuckled, chin in hand. “You don’t ask a lady how old she is.”

“Bien. Gracías, mi amor.”

Hernando returned carrying a wooden platter with plates of food. Violet’s nose tingled with spices that she had never smelled before. On her tin plate were three hot pieces of flat, round bread, a small pile of shredded meat dipped in sauce, and eggs in the same. In the center was a heaping helping of stove cooked beans and brown rice, all mixed together. Her mouth watered just looking at it all, but before digging in, she picked up one of the bread circles and examined it. It looked like a hotcake that hadn’t been fully cooked.

“Tortilla,” Madam Hen answered before Violet could ask. “You eat it like so.” With the tortilla between her fingers, she scooped up a bit of meat and settled it before taking a massive bite. Rory was ten steps ahead, his cheeks bursting with pork. “Try.”

Violet mimicked Madam Hen as best she could, though found the tortilla slipping in some places. Finally, she got a good grip and scooped up a mountain of pork, beans, and rice, and shoved it in her mouth. Juices dribbled down her chin, and she tried saving herself before she made too much of a mess at the table. Her mouth and hands full, Violet chanced a look at Mei, who sat beside her. Mei smirked, handling her own food with grace. Violet swallowed quickly and wiped her mouth with the back of her sleeve. Once she had managed to get a handle on things, Violet focused on enjoying her meal. It reminded her of some of the dishes Sitting Bear would make on the trail, but nothing was as flavorful or as rich as this. Violet wasn’t aware just how hungry she was until she paused for breath and saw that her plate was licked clean.

When the meal was over with, Madam Hen personally escorted them to their own bungalow that they could stay in for their visit. The bungalow had three rooms. There was a main room with a used fire pit and dinner table, and a few pots and pans hanging over a potbelly stove. On both the right and left corners sat doorways, with creaky, lopsided doors with wooden latches. The rooms were identical, with a bed each. The boys, naturally, would sleep in one room, while Violet and Mei would share the second.

“I’ll leave y’all to unpack,” Mei announced, dropping her personal satchel on the table. “Madam Hen, if you don’t mind, I’d like to use your wire. Maybe catch up on a few things while we’re at it.”

“Certainly,” said Madam Hen. She wished the others a restful stay, and she and Mei left the bungalow to return to the main house. Violet, removing her hat, took a seat at the head of the table and looked around. The bungalow was small, certainly. Poor Sitting Bear had to tilt his head a bit just to walk around. And the walls were a smooth, strange clay that stayed hard as rock to the touch.

“So…” Violet stared out the window, which was a square shaped hole in the wall with wooden shutters. “That was…”

“Yes, it was,” said Linus casually. He was already bringing in a bag of their kitchen supplies and setting them by the stove. “We’ve known Madam Hen since before we was us. Before we were Railwalkers, I mean.”

Violet continued to stare. There was a canted view of the Bone House’s front porch from the window, and Violet watched folks walk in and out at their leisure. Words were failing her as she tried to voice her questions. “Is she…I mean…What…?”

“She is of two spirits,” said Sitting Bear, carrying their sleeping rolls into the boy’s room.

“Two…?”

“Mexicans call it muxe,” Linus filled in. “She mighta been born a bit different, but she’s about as woman as you get. ‘Course, people got their opinions.” After wiping off their skillet, Linus hung it on a free hook behind the pipe of the stove. “Most folk are afraid of what they don’t understand. Same with Mei. Or me, or Bear here.”

“What about me?” Rory piped up from the table.

Linus chuckled and ruffled Rory’s hair. “Hell, you ain’t no mystery. Give you a sarsaparilla and some biscuits and you’re the happiest bull in the yard.” Rory smiled. Clearly, he couldn’t deny it.

“Huh.” Violet propped her chin in her hand. “I s’pose…it’s one thing when you’ve got yourself a colored man or an Injun…Hell, even Mei ain’t so strange when you think about it. But this…”

Linus pulled out the last of their whiskey and poured Violet a shot. He gently pushed it towards her. “It ain’t the strangest thing in the west. You take that from me.” He held the bottle, as if to toast, and Violet held her shot glass likewise. They both drank, and after, Violet figured it’d be easier to let sleeping dogs lie. After all, what business was it of hers?

Violet helped with the rest of their affects, mostly keeping Mei’s personal items to one side. After settling in, Violet watered and brushed the horses, checked their shoes, and finally gave them proper feed. The men working Madam Hen’s stables didn’t mind sharing, and their nags ate deep. Once the work was done with, Violet wandered into the Bone House to let Mei know they’d finished the job. Upon stepping inside, she saw only Hernando at the bar, cleaning his glasses.

Violet was about to ask when she noticed a door cracked open at the end of a narrow hallway. There was movement, and a laugh Violet distinguished as Madam Hen’s cackle. It was very difficult to mishear. Feeling a need to keep quiet, Violet slunk her way down the hall with silent steps, eventually pressing herself against the wall to listen in.

“…It should reach Van Buren with no trouble,” Madam Hen said. “Why I worry is just who will find it.”

“That shouldn’t be a problem,” Mei responded. “Even with them lawmen, we still have allies in some places.” There was a clink of ice in a glass of liquor. Mei drank deeply and sighed in satisfaction. The heavy glass clunked as it settled on a table. “Now that that’s done with, have there been any updates on Abernathy?”

“There have.” Madam Hen’s voice grew serious, and a chair creaked, as though she was leaning in. “I was hoping I’d see you soon, mija. I didn’t know how long this information would be good.”

“Well?”

“He’s out of California. Apparently some of the money’s run dry. Last I heard, he was headed to Dakota. Might be getting in good with some oil men.”

“Oil men? I thought they moved to Colorado?”

“They did, most of them, anyway. Some headed up north to buy property, I heard. That means money.”

“Hm.” There was a pause in the conversation. “And the railroads?”

“Paused for now, but…still in operation.”

Violet heard a frustrated sigh, followed by a deep drink from the glass. “Thank you, Henny.”

“Of course.” Another lull. “Mija…Should we invite our company inside or just let her stand there?”

“Company?”

Violet jumped, and turned to try and scurry away, but Madam Hen was at the door before she could escape. She looked up, caught red handed. Madam Hen smiled. “Why don’t you have a seat, child? It’s probably more comfortable.”

Sheepishly, Violet shuffled inside. She glanced up at Mei, who was already rolling up a fresh cigarette. Opening her silver lighter, Mei lit her cigarette and took a deep, thoughtful drag. “Something the matter?” she asked politely.

“Um…” Violet shifted. “We’re all settled in the cabin. I tended to the horses, made sure they were in good shape. So…”

“Hm.” Mei cocked a thin brow and smiled against her paper. “Praise the Lord. We’re all settled in.” The comment was less biting, and more of a slap on the wrist for Violet’s silliness. Mei stood from her seat, bending her back in a deep stretch. “Well Henny, I think my crew’s gonna take it easy for the rest of the night. Call us when supper’s on.”

“Of course, mija. Rest well.”

Mei escorted Violet down the hall and out towards their bungalow. Already the sun was starting to crest the dusty horizon. Some of Madam Hen’s men were starting to light oil lamps around the property. Halfway to their cabin, Violet stopped them and addressed Mei directly.

“I didn’t mean to listen in,” she admitted.

“I believe you,” said Mei. There was a curious look in her eye as she finished her cigarette. “I’m not angry, if that’s your next question.”

Violet bit her lip, and as Mei snubbed out her cherry beneath her boot, she asked, “Who’s Abernathy?”

“My target,” said Mei. “The target.”

“The one who lets men die? Men who work for him?”

“That’s right.”

“We ain’t headed to California now, are we?”

“No ma’am,” said Mei. “Once we get our money, we head up north to Dakota. Possibly catch him before winter hits.”

“Does it take that long to get to Dakota from here?”

Mei shook her head. “No,” she said, “but one never knows what the morning will bring. Few years ago, we almost had the bastard in our sights. You know what happened?” Violet shook her head. “A goddamn lightning storm. In the middle of our kill. By the time we came out for cover, he was long gone. Didn’t even notice we were tracking him.”

“God…” Violet stared out into the distance, trying to imagine the Railwalkers chased by divine cracks of lightning. “How long have you been tracking him anyhow?”

Mei hesitated. “Long enough.” She reached out and put her arm around Violet’s shoulders. “But that’s enough business for one night. What do you say we put our boots up and crack open a tequila?”

Violet blinked. “What’s a tequila?”

Mei’s eyes lit like summer fireflies. “Oh,” she cooed, “this will be one hell of a night.”

* * * *

Tequila, Violet discovered, was a vicious, gruesome assailant that robbed Violet of any and all sense by midnight. One minute, she was sitting at the supper table, and the next, she was dancing on it. At least, Violet thought she danced on the table. To be totally honest, the night was a blur past a certain point. And Violet had all morning to ponder her recent memories as she sat over a clay pot, retching up last night’s bad decisions. Violet hadn’t felt this sick since she once caught a terrible fever as a little girl, and this felt somehow worse.

Knock knock. The door behind Violet creaked open just as more bile splattered into Violet’s pot. Behind her, she heard Mei stifle her laughter. “Poor lamb.” Mei knelt down beside Violet with a tray in her hands. There was a bowl of hot broth, bread, an orange, a pitcher of water, and a damp cloth folded neatly at one corner. Mei set the tray aside and first took the cloth. “Hold it in for just a moment.” Gingerly, Violet lifted her face, and Mei cleaned off the sweat and unmentionables with a smile. “Think you could stomach some breakfast?”

Violet shook her head weakly. She didn’t even want to think about food, let alone force any down. Mei took the pitcher of water and poured some into a clay cup. “Take a sip at least,” she urged. Violet did so, the cool water washing away the sick aftertaste easily. Violet drank the whole cup down and set it aside. “Sit up a bit straighter for me.”

“Why?” Violet croaked.

“Please.”

Bones aching, Violet pushed herself to her knees and straightened her posture. Mei stood and sat herself on a stool behind her. It wasn’t until Violet felt the gentle scrape of Mei’s ivory brush that she realized what Mei was doing.

“You don’t gotta…” Violet protested.

“I don’t,” Mei agreed. “Then again, you didn’t have to clean up after me, either. Consider it tit for tat.” After brushing out Violet’s tangles, Mei began to swiftly braid her hair. Keeping her head steady, Violet caught sight of her reflection in the washbowl next to her. Her skin was waxy pale, and her eyes were nothing but deep gopher holes. Violet touched her face, almost in disbelief.

“I ain’t never drinking tequila again,” Violet swore.

Mei chuckled. “Or at least, nothing more than a few shots. And certainly not half the damn bottle.”

“I did what—?” Violet turned quickly, which was a massive mistake. Her stomach heaved, and Violet was back over her clay pot. At least by now, there wasn’t much left. Mei waited patiently for Violet to sit back up to finish her braiding job. After tying off the knot, Mei laid the damp cloth on Violet’s head, soothing her spinning mind.

“Why don’t we get you back into bed? You can sleep this off.” Mei helped Violet to her feet and towards the mattress. Laying her there, Mei pulled a fresh chamber pot from beneath the bed and set it on the small table next to her. “Just in case,” she said. Mei set the tray of food down, pouring Violet another glass of water. Violet drank it just as desperately. With a great sigh, she laid flat, and closed her itching eyes. Her body felt like it was rocking on a riverboat, which was both awful and pleasant at once. “Let’s see if you can stomach this…” Mei, a small knife in hand, plucked the orange from the tray and peeled it with expediency. The fresh, citrus smell filled the room, and Violet took a deep nose-full. Pulling a slice from the orange, she handed it to Violet. “Try. For me.”

Violet forced the orange into her mouth and bit down. The juices were soothing, even though her gut growled with dissatisfaction. At least she didn’t feel the need to vomit anymore. Nodding, Violet took the rest of the orange and made slow work of it. Mei stayed at her side, as if to make sure Violet finished it. When Violet was done, she wiped off her hands and sticky fingers with the damp cloth on her forehead.

“Thank you,” said Violet.

Mei smiled. There was a hint of tease behind her bright, coal eyes, but Violet supposed it was deserved at this point. Mei had the courtesy not to voice it. “Better?”

“Much.” Violet laid her head down along the pillows, the rocking still ever present. “I ain’t never felt so sick in all my life…”

“It’ll do that to ya.” Mei stood and headed to the door. “You get as much rest as you can. Henny’ll have a cow if you miss tonight.”

Violet moaned. “I ain’t drinkin’ tequila,” she repeated.

“Of course,” said Mei. She unlatched the crooked door and made to step out, when she paused. “How much do you remember anyhow?”

“From last night?” Violet shook her head. “Not much.”

Mei hesitated. There was something on the tip of her tongue, but ultimately, she thought better of it and left. Violet was far too tired to press the issue, and as she rolled over to get more comfortable, forgot it all together.

Violet slept until well into the afternoon. Her stomach growled painfully at the delicious smell of cooking pork, and Violet cracked open her crusty eyes. Although the shutters of her window were mostly closed, Violet could tell from the voices outside that there were far more people at the Bone House than there was when they arrived. She heard laughter and arriving horses, singing and clapping and men struggling with large and heavy things. It took Violet a few moments to figure out that the compound was no doubt preparing for Madam Hen’s birthday party.

Violet sat up, her bones cracking loudly. She’d waken up in better straights, for sure, but considering her morning, Violet felt repaired. She slipped out of bed and washed her sweating face and neck. Gushes of hot air were already slipping through the crack of her bedroom door. Keeping her sleeves rolled up and her hair braided, Violet entered the main room to see Linus cooking for the rest of them.

“Well well!” he sang with a glitter in his eye. “Our sleeping beauty awakes from the castle. How’re you feeling?”

“All right.” Violet sat at the table, next to where Rory was sloppily pounding biscuit dough into shape. Without asking, Violet tore a chunk for herself, spread some flour, and kneaded it alongside him. Rory grinned at the help. “I can walk a straight line now, that’s for sure.”

“I don’t think walkin’ was your problem last night,” Linus teased.

Violet’s face grew hot. “Was I really such a—?”

“We’ve seen worse,” Mei said immediately. She had her feet up, reading a wire she no doubt received that day. “Though nothing beats out the night you drenched that Johnny back in Malvern. Boy howdy, that was a sight, I tell you what.”

“Oh Lord…” Violet rubbed her forehead. “I forgot all about that…” As the others chuckled, Violet’s eyes fixated on the paper in Mei’s hand. “Wire from Van Buren?”

Mei’s eyes darkened. “Yes,” she said, putting it aside. “They can’t send a Wells Fargo down here, or they risk marshals tracking us down. Looks like we gotta make us a detour up at Carson.” With a frustrated sigh, Mei rubbed her eyes. “Just one thing after another with this…”

“Hot days are ahead,” said Sitting Bear as he peeled potatoes. “We should stay until the rains come, and then leave.”

“Sound advice,” Linus agreed. “Besides, ain’t no way they’d get to Nevada before we do, is there?”

“I guess…” Mei’s brow tightened and she stared out the open door, which was open to try and catch a cool breeze, if any. So far, no luck; between the potbelly stove and the summer sun, the bungalow was sweltering. Violet kept her hands busy with the dough, but her eyes lingered on Mei’s expression. If Violet had to guess, Mei was bothered that they couldn’t simply take off to Dakota the moment they could.

Violet wondered who this Abernathy was, what kind of character he had. Obviously, no good man allowed his workers to die needlessly, but Violet was curious. Was he like Mr. Munts, who so successfully played the part of an honorable gentleman? Or was he like the boy from the train? Sniveling, cowardly, weak. Or, perhaps, he was beyond either of them. Perhaps he was a devil, taken human flesh. No doubt he should be, or else why would Mei chase him so vehemently? Earning Mei’s wrath of justice to such an extent was no small feat. He must have been Lucifer himself. What else could explain it?

Mei spotted Violet’s stare. Violet started, a thrill shooting down her arms. “Somethin’ on your mind?” Violet shook her head and went back to the biscuit dough. Violet could swear she felt Mei’s eyes on her the entire time.

Once Violet’s work was done, she decided to walk the grounds of the Bone House and observe the preparations. She was right in guessing that scores of new faces had arrived that morning. Men with instruments and food; women with silken scarves and paper lanterns; children who ran barefoot, chased by the ribbons on their wrists and ankles. Violet had never seen such a vibrant surge of people before, full of color and laughter and eagerness for the sun to set. Violet dipped into the main house and looked about. The narrow walls were full up even more with people, who were hanging bright papers and fresh candles on the walls and ceilings.

Violet stood in the corner, out of the way, and stared at the place in awe. Even with the overwhelming pallet of color it usually had, the Bone House was looking swiftly like a different place. A place with room for dancing, drinking, and making merry.

“¡Ten cuidado con eso! No te rompas la pierna.” Violet turned at the voice of Madam Hen, who directed her decorators with all the importance of a military general. She spotted Violet and grinned. “¡Niña! So good to see you up and about.” She turned to her bar, hands on her hips. “What do you think?” She began to gesture at the walls. “We will have papel picado all along this back wall, and up the stairwell there, plenty of hot food—of course, Hernando will be dusting those bottles. Lástima de ese hombre. He should know better than to let the bar get dusty.” That’s when Madam Hen turned, a paper fan clutched in her thick fingers. “Niña, is that what you’ll be wearing?”

Violet looked down at her “trail” clothes, as she’d come to call them. Her jeans had a fine layer of dirt on the hems, and her boots were caked with mud. Stains were eternally under her armpits, and she noticed at one of the inseams was the beginning of a hole. Violet hadn’t bothered to note the state of her appearance until now. “I mean…I guess? I don’t got nothin’ else.”

With a sharp flick of her wrist, Madam Hen snapped open her fan and clicked her tongue in disapproval. “No. Eso no va a servir. Come, we’ll see if Madam Hen has something for you.” Before Violet could say otherwise, Madam Hen took her hand and dragged her up the stairs to the rooms above.

There were a few bedrooms, much like the whore house in Malvern, with a large bedroom at the end of the hall; no doubt Madam Hen’s own. Inside, it was strikingly similar to the main floor of Bone House. On the walls hung drapes and carvings and masks and dresses. In the corner sat a large bed on an old, iron frame. Two French window doors led to an outer balcony, looking over the central area of the compound. To the balcony’s left was a folded screen, painted with ink, in front of an ornate wardrobe. A full length mirror sat next to it.

“Now let me see…I was once your size long ago. I should have something…” Madam Hen bumbled to her wardrobe and began tossing fabric here and there. Violet wasn’t sure if she should help, so she remained where she was, awkwardly watching Madam Hen’s clothes fly.

A color caught her eye. A vibrant, beautiful purple, like a bushel of blooming lavender. It landed at her feet, and Violet picked it from the ground in curiosity. She had noticed, of course, that the Mexican women didn’t exactly wear cotton prairie skirts and button-up blouses, but Violet hadn’t taken much time to admire the dresses until now. It was light to the touch, trimmed with white and blue laces, and fanning out in endless waves of fabric. In the cotton were embroidered flowers, hand sewn with excruciating detail. Violet ran her fingers over the green silk thread. The hours someone must have devoted to such work…

“Oh?” Madam Hen, her hands clutching a hideous yellow piece, noticed Violet’s find. “That old thing? Do you like it?”

“Do I?” Violet smiled widely, spreading the skirt to see it in better detail. “Why…I’ve had my fair share of dresses, ma’am, but ain’t none of them look as pretty as this.” She traced her eyes along the scooped neckline and giggled. “I dare say Mama would have a fit if she saw me in it. She always dressed me up in thick, heavy things, even on the hottest days. Truth be told, I hated them dresses. But…” She threaded her fingers through the laced tassels. “I guess I wouldn’t mind this one so much…”

Madam Hen, flushed with joy, held her fan to her heart and swooned. “Then, Niña, it is yours. Go on, try it!” From then on, Madam Hen futzed about Violet as though it were her birthday, rather than the landlady’s own. She braided Violet’s hair in intricate knots, leaving curls of brown to flow free against Violet’s cheeks. She wove fresh flowers into the crown of Violet’s hair, matching her gown, and tied off Violet’s waist with a blue swath of silk.

“What about my shoes?” Violet asked, lifting up the hem of her skirt. She stared at her muddy boots. “They don’t exactly…erm…fit with it, do they?”

“The sun is gone,” said Madam Hen. “The sand is cool. Why not let your feet feel the earth, child?”

“Barefoot?” Violet grinned; she didn’t need convincing. Without ceremony, she kicked off her shoes and peeled away her socks, tossing them into the pile of her trail clothes. Madam Hen then led her to the mirror and stood back. Violet took in her reflection.

She barely recognized herself. This was not the form of a young girl, pinned up with buttons and lace. Nor was it a rough visage caked with dirt and sweat of the road. This was a woman, full and blossoming and mature. Her smooth shapes fit into the purple dress as though they were made for it. Her hair, curling in a way that was new, yet natural, bounced with fresh life against her rosy cheeks.

“Lord…” she breathed. “I never thought I could ever look so pretty. Oh.” She touched her lips, realizing her slight. “Shoot, I shouldn’t get so big about it, should I?”

“Why not?” Madam Hen replied, smiling. “You, my darling, are a picture of youth and excellence.” She tilted Violet’s chin just slightly, admiring her like a proud mother. “It is my birthday, so I want a gift from you, Niña. Get big about it.” Madam Hen snapped straight, hand to her cheek. “¡Dios mio! It is already so dark!” She clapped her hands and ushered Violet out. “Shoo, shoo! I must prepare!” With a loving shove, Madam Hen pushed her out and shut the door promptly behind her.

Outside, Violet could hear the musicians begin to strum, and the singers begin to sing. Passing a window, Violet glanced into the compound. Already a great bonfire was starting in the center, and Hernando was carving up a suckling pig on a pyre. Giddy, Violet sprinted down the steps, skipping two at a time, and stepped out into the night.

First, Violet headed over to Hernando, where she received a plate of fresh, seasoned pork with a few corn tortillas. Among the other pots and pans of food, Violet spotted Linus’s stew and biscuits from earlier that day. No one would go hungry tonight, not even the dogs.

“Is that Violet?!”

Violet turned to see Linus smiling as wide as he’d ever smiled. He was in his usual hat and trousers, but wearing a borrowed, tasseled jacket, similar to some of the other musicians. His harmonica was in one hand, a large drink in the other. He removed his hat and held it to his breast politely, the eyes behind his glasses glittering. He whistled lowly. “Well, ain’t you a picture of loveliness? That dress is mighty smart on you, Violet. Mighty smart indeed.”

Violet beamed, fighting off the shyness that Madam Hen so graciously condemned moments ago. “Ain’t it something?” Violet twirled, and her skirts leapt from her ankles into a massive circle. “Madam Hen said I could have it. Bit of a waste, though. Hell, I dunno where I’d wear it ‘cept here.”

“Heh. That sure as hell ain’t no waste by my count.” He cocked his head and elbowed Mei, who was in deep conversation with someone else, her back turned. “Hey Mei! Why don’t you take a look at our little Violet?”

“Hm?” Mei turned to him, oblivious. “At what? Our little—?” Mei rounded to Violet and froze. Violet grew hot. There was a drawn-out silence, and Violet’s ears pained at the pressure of her heartbeat. Since they’d come to know each other, Mei had always had a soul-piercing gaze that Violet could never shake. She’d looked upon Violet with distrust, with anger, with amusement and surprise. But never like this. Violet was unsure if it was good or bad or somewhere in between. Mei cleared her throat, breaking the spell. “You look…awfully nice, Violet.” Mei’s eyes shifted away, and Violet felt strangely as though she was embarrassed to look any longer.

Violet smiled gently. “Thank you,” he said. She observed Mei’s own clothes; she hadn’t changed from that morning. “I woulda loved to see you in something just as nice, Mei. I think you’d be downright gorgeous.”

Mei was stiff. Though her expression hadn’t changed, her shoulders were squared, and her back hunched like a terrified dog. Violet worried that perhaps she’d said something wrong, but before she could ask, Mei muttered something about getting a drink and strut into the crowd. Linus snickered.

“How about that…” he mused.

“How about what?”

“Oh nothin’.” Linus set his drink aside, pocketed his harmonica, and held out his hand. “May I have this dance?” Happily, Violet obliged, and took his hand. They twirled out into the dirt, kicking up a cloud at their feet. Linus was a delightful dancer, and led Violet with ease and grace. About halfway through their dance, Rory interrupted and asked Violet for one himself. He wore a multicolored wool blanket with a hole for his head (a poncho, if Violet remembered correctly) and a hat so big it could have hidden him like a turtle shell. Linus let Rory cut in, and he took Violet’s hands, spinning them both in endless circles around the bonfire.

The night was a dream made real. Music laced through the air like a summer breeze. The food was rich and plentiful, and no matter how much anyone ate, there was always room for more. Women, dressed in ribbon and cotton scarves, danced while clacking strange, hallow instruments in their hands. Violet tried one herself, but she was hardly any good. When Madam Hen made her appearance, she did so in a dramatic flair that was true to her character. Poised at her balcony, Madam Hen extended her arms and welcomed her birthday guests. She was draped from head to toe in gold and jewels, her face painted like the Egyptians of old. A great cheer rose from the crowd to greet her, and after a brief speech, Madam Hen descended the stairs and joined the party.

Hours passed, though Violet took no notice. Time had slipped away from her, as though the minutes were the grains of sand squishing between her toes. Only when she saw Rory, curled up in Sitting Bear’s lap fast asleep, did she guess that it must have been quite late. Still, the fiesta flourished, and Violet herself did not feel the slightest bit tired. The band began a slower, more intimate song. Lupita the milk maid, her hair pinned in massive white flowers, sang beautifully. Violet took the pause in atmosphere to sit on a bale of hay and rest her feet; she’d only just noticed how sore they were.

“Having a nice time?” Mei’s voice brought her back to the world, and she looked up. She was smiling, and back to her old self. Violet returned the gesture.

“Oh yes!” she exclaimed. “I ain’t never been to a shindig so fun. That Madam Hen sure knows how to have a birthday, I tell ya.” Mei took a seat next to Violet. The hay bale was small, and so the two sat close together, shoulder to shoulder. Violet looked out into the compound. “Boy howdy, if you told me a year ago I’d be dancin’ barefoot with a buncha Mexicans and a handful of outlaws, I’d’a told you you was crazy.”

Mei shrugged. “Crazier things have happened.” They sat quietly, watching couples dancing slowly. Some women were nestled up to the bosom of their chosen gaucho. Off in the corner, Linus was treating Madam Hen to a waltz, leading the massive woman with impeccable ease. “Say…how about a dance?”

Violet blinked and turned to her. “What?”

Mei stood. She held out her hand for Violet to take. “How about a dance?” she repeated. Her dark eyes twinkled. “I ain’t as good as Linus, but I’m decent.”

Violet bubbled with joy, and stood quickly. Her aching feet were of no consequence. She took Mei’s hands with her own, feeling the hairs on her arms prickle with pleasure. They swerved gently against one another, Mei taking care not to step on Violet’s toes with her steel boots. The party around them faded away into the night. All that was left was the heat of the bonfire, and the gentle sway of their bodies. She had been dancing all night with no problems, but now, these few simple steps with Mei made her legs tremble.

“How am I doin’?” Mei asked.

“Fine…” Violet breathed. “Just…just fine.”

Mei paused, a look of concern in her eye. “Violet…? You all right? You ain’t uncomfortable now, are you?”

Uncomfortable? Am I? Violet considered the question, but quickly shook her head. Her heart was pounding, and her body quivered, but it didn’t feel entirely like a bad thing. She inched closer, lacing their fingers together. “It’s…nice.”

“Is it?”

“Yeah.”

Mei’s smile returned, and she edged closer as well. They were swinging widely now, their eyes not daring to stray from the other. The music began to pick up, and soon, they were dancing wildly, laughing and spinning and sweating with glee.

Violet didn’t know how long they danced. It felt like an eternity, yet it was over too fast. When they finished, they were both breathless, and flopped together back on their hay bale. Now Violet’s feet were really hurting. “It’s gettin’ late,” said Mei. She pointed to the sky above them. The moon was well past midnight, and was now dipping below the flat desert horizon. “What’s say we turn in?”

Violet nodded in agreement and they headed away from the party towards their bungalow. As they walked, Violet noticed that they were nearly shoulder to shoulder. Their hands occasionally brushed, and Violet felt a sudden urge to reach out and take it. Either too shy or too embarrassed, Violet restrained herself. They closed the latch on their crooked door, Mei discarding her coat. She let it topple to the ground carelessly. From their cracked window, the bonfire still shuddered. A slim light danced on Mei’s sharp cheek.

“You tired?” she asked. Her voice was hushed. Violet shook her head. Her own voice was temporarily silenced. Instead of speaking, she hung on Mei’s every word. She watched Mei’s movements; the gentle sway from one foot to another. The frantic blinking of her long lashes. The way her fingers twitched, as if missing her gun, and finally clenched to keep themselves from searching for it. Mei took a careful step forward. Violet’s heart skipped in her chest. Neither woman dared break their gaze from each other. With a gentle hand, Mei tucked a loose strand of hair behind Violet’s ear.

“You sure are wonderful, Violet.” Her voice was like honey. Her obsidian eyes sparkled as precious stones would. Violet drew closer to Mei, like a moth to flame, until there was barely an inch between them. Before Violet knew it, Mei’s hands settled on her hips. She could feel the texture of Mei’s calluses through the thin fabric of her dress.

Mei leaned forward, and they kissed.

Violet was startled at first. Her body felt a sort of shock, and it took a moment for her to relax. Her eyes closed, and she fell naturally into Mei’s comforting arms. Her fingers threaded through Mei’s silk hair. Squished up against one another, Violet felt Mei’s thudding heart through her blouse. They entangled deeper in each other. Their kiss grew feverish, and suddenly Violet felt intoxicated. Somehow, Mei managed to drag them to the bed, and with a sharp tilt of the Earth, she and Mei collapsed into the nest of bedsheets, laughing and kissing and touching in the sliver of moonlight.

Part 2

Chapter 10

Softness. Warmth. Gentle breathing. A shift, a rustle, then silence.

Violet opened her heavy eyes. She had never felt more rested. The delicate sunlight streamed effortlessly through the crack in their window. Everything was warm and comfortable. When her vision cleared, the first thing she saw was Mei’s long neck, descending into her sharp clavicle. She was still sleeping. Mei and Violet lay naked beneath their covers, legs wrapped up like bundles of rope; there was no telling where one began and the other ended. Violet breathed deeply through her nose. The smell was distinct of them, and lingered to tell the tale of their night together.

Violet didn’t stir yet. She didn’t want to rouse Mei so quickly. Instead, she let her eyes linger on Mei’s body. The blankets were wrung around her midsection like ivy, leaving her torso bare to the world. Mei’s breasts were sharp, just like the rest of her, with dark, pert nipples that tilted in different directions while she lay on her back. Along her chest and stomach, Violet now took notice of what the dark had hidden so easily: scars. Old ones, faded almost entirely from time, and ones still so fresh, they were practically new wounds.

Carefully, Violet walked the tips of her fingers down the center of Mei’s chest. She wondered how someone got so many scars in a lifetime. She wondered what scar told what story. She wondered if Mei remembered them all.

“Mnn…” Mei began to shift, her eyes fluttering open. Drowsy, Mei turned her head, her nose touching Violet’s. Mei smiled. “Mornin’.”

Violet beamed. “Good morning.” She craned her neck for a kiss. Mei happily obliged. Eventually, Mei’s arm wrapped around Violet’s shoulders, and the two found a more comfortable position. The sunlight soothed their feet and legs, while the shadow of the room protected them from the hot air. Mei threaded her fingers through Violet’s knotted hair, amused at the mess.

“And how’re we feelin’ this morning?” she asked.

“Better than ever,” Violet purred. She closed her eyes, indulging in the sensation of Mei’s fingers scratching her scalp. Violet giggled to herself. “You’d think someone like me’d be all a mess after last night. Funny enough, I don’t feel a bit bad.”

“Not one bit?”

“Not one bit.”

Mei’s smile widened. She laid a kiss on Violet’s forehead. “Good. Ain’t nothin’ to feel bad about. Still, I was worried I’d scare you off at some point.” For some time after, they laid in familiar silence. Occasionally, one of them would sigh, or make a noise, or mutter something about the party the night before. But neither seemed to want to rise from their nest quite yet. It was only until Violet’s stomach rumbled violently that they dressed for the day.

The entire compound was groggy that morning. Barely anyone was awake, even though it was close to noon. Madam Hen had made herself scarce since dawn. After a bit of searching, Violet realized that so had Linus. Even Rory was tucked in, sleeping the fun away. The only face to greet them when they awoke was Sitting Bear.

Mei and Violet set themselves at the supper table, and Sitting Bear greeted them with a nod. He gave them each a bowl of fresh porridge, as well as left over scraps from last night’s banquet. They all ate together in contented silence. “So.” Mei threaded her fingers and rested them at her chin. “Since we’re to wait for the rains to move on, about how long are we here, Bear?”

Sitting Bear looked thoughtfully out the window. He took his usual time to think before answering. “It is hard to say. A month. Maybe more.”

Mei stretched back in her chair, her happy mood gone for now. She twirled her spoon between her fingers. “And if we were to risk it?”

Sitting Bear shook his head. “It would be too easy to die. Either by beasts or by heat.”

“Or by marshals,” Violet added drearily.

“I told you,” said Mei, “don’t none of them bastards know we’re here.” She put her chin in her hand, brows furrowed. “Henny won’t mind us bein’ here, that’s no problem. I just…” She sighed. “I don’t like stayin’ put for so long…”

Violet tapped her bowl. “Maybe it won’t be so bad? Maybe if we drop outta sight for a while, it’ll be easier getting into Carson City or the Dakotas. Less people out looking for us.”

Mei smiled slightly. “Always a ray of sunshine.” She rolled her neck, and Violet heard faint pops. “So be it. We’ll earn our keep and help out around the Bone House.”

“Fine by me,” said Violet. She slurped up the rest of her porridge, washing it down with a glass of fresh milk.

After breakfast, Mei and Violet headed out back for a shower. A small handful of tall wooden boxes, hooked up to a well pump, waited to be used. From the looks of things, the two were the first to use them. “Lord, it’s been too long.” Mei stripped as she walked, and stepped totally nude into an empty box. She swiped a waxy ball of soap from the inside shelf and glanced back at Violet. “Give us a pump there, wouldjya?”

Violet took hold of the water pump and began to push. It was slow moving, but eventually, water splashed into the pored tin bucket above her. She drenched herself fully, and began to work up a lather between her hands. She glanced behind her, and noticed that Violet was staring. “Well?” she said. “It don’t work too well if a bunch is goin’ off at once. Come on.”

With a sheepish smile, Violet tossed her clothes aside, hopped into the shower, and closed the door behind her. There were barely a few inches to move between them, but Violet didn’t mind the closeness. The water, warmed by the hot earth, was pleasantly toasty by the time it left the spout. Mei ran soap up and down Violet’s shoulders. She watched the froth run down Violet’s arms. “Turn around,” said Mei. Violet did so. Mei began to weave her fingers in and out of Violet’s hair. Her nails gently scraped Violet’s scalp, doing away with the grime of her roots. Violet closed her eyes, and let the sensation soothe her.

“This how you keep your hair so nice?” Violet asked.

Mei chuckled. “I think I’m just lucky,” she said. Her hands gently untangled Violet’s knots.

“Did your mama have nice hair too?” Violet paused. “She must’ve, mustn’t she? A woman would have to be awfully beautiful to be your mother.” Violet stopped again. Mei had gone silent. Sensing the shift in mood, Violet turned to her. She wiped the water from her face. Mei’s expression was unreadable. Like a wise statue. And yet, there was something sad in her eyes. Violet slowly raised her hand to Mei’s face, half afraid Mei would slap it away. Instead, Mei took Violet’s hand in hers and pressed it lovingly to her own cheek. She closed her eyes, comforted in Violet’s presence. Finally, she nodded.

“Yes,” she said. “My mother was beautiful. And she had gorgeous hair. I used to play with it for hours, just to feel it.” Her smile grew. “It was rare to find cacao butter where we were, but whenever she could get her hands on it, she used to massage it in. It would be so soft and wonderful after she did that…”

Violet slipped her hand from her cheek, and instead rested it against Mei’s heart. So many scars were bumpy under Violet’s touch. She couldn’t imagine Mei’s mother with the same skin. “Where is your mother?” she asked softly. Mei’s eyes, tilted down between them, were hallowed and far away. Violet wished she could see Mei’s memories, rather than resort to prying. Before Mei could answer, Violet spoke again. “You don’t have to tell me,” she said. “If it hurts you too much, you don’t gotta say a word.”

Mei looked up, confused at first, but melted quickly into gratitude. Mei nodded, and gave Violet her thanks with a tender kiss.

* * * *

Work at the Bone House was not easy, but never was there a dull moment. Violet naturally found her place at the stables, helping to care for the horses and other livestock. When the days got hotter, she retreated to work in the main house. Madam Hen seemed to have no quota of work to fulfill with the Railwalkers, and so while they did their best to earn their keep, Madam Hen never pestered them to do more than the odd chore here and there. Violet had a feeling that working for their supper was mostly to soothe Mei’s pride more than Madam Hen’s needs. Violet had gotten along with the other residents of the compound. Lupita, who helped Violet care for the animals, was surprisingly fast with her hands; Violet had never seen a cow milked so quickly. Hernando behind the bar, while not a man of many words, always made sure Violet had more than enough to eat at mealtimes. When she wasn’t working, she and Rory would play with the children and their leather ball, kicking it barefoot across the dirt. At night, Mei and Linus would take shifts patrolling the area, though truth be told, Violet hadn’t felt this safe in nearly half a year. And when the Bone House grew quiet, in the wee hours of the night, Mei and Violet would have their bed to themselves.

Violet had never known pleasure like what Mei provided. Mei’s hands toyed with sensitive buttons Violet never knew that she had, always until her world ended in brilliant color. Other times, when the day had been too long or too hot, Violet and Mei would lay naked atop the bed, inviting the cool night air to comfort their sweating skin. But whether their nights were met with passion or peace, they all ended the same. Before falling to sleep, Violet would curl to one side, with Mei’s arms secure around her person.

For a long month, they lived with Madam Hen in her compound. There was never a lonely night, nor an empty belly for that entire month. At times, Violet would catch herself forgetting that the outside world even existed. As far as Violet was concerned, reality existed only within the walls of that clay bungalow, wrapped up in the arms of her beautiful, dangerous lover.

One afternoon, work finished up early, and Violet treated herself to a stroll along the grounds. The days were starting to cool, and a pleasant cloud cover kept the harsh sun at bay. She wandered along the edge of the grass, her fingers just reaching the tall tops of the prairie brush. Her mind was at ease, and pondering simple things. What they were to have for dinner that night, or breakfast in the morning. When Madam Hen’s next great fiesta would be. When Violet could wear her beautiful purple dress again…

A gunshot rang from the air, and startled Violet abruptly. She turned, hand immediately going to the pea shooter on her belt. But after scanning the area, she saw no danger. Another gunshot sounded, and Violet curiously prowled closer to the noise.

“Pull another one, Bear!”

Violet rounded the corner of the main house just as a clay pot flew ten feet through the air. With a loud bang!, the pot shattered into a burst of dust and debris. Linus, reloading his precious pearl-handled revolver, stood casually before the dust cloud. Rory and Sitting Bear sat on either side of Linus; Rory perched on top of a pickle barrel, enjoying a chunk of molasses candy, while Sitting Bear rested on a pile of firewood, a mess of chipped pottery at his feet. He was the first to notice Violet.

“Hello, Violet,” he said.

Linus turned and smiled at her coming. “Come to see the show? Quite a spectacle.” Linus slapped his gun chamber closed and turned back out to the frontier. “Pull!” Sitting Bear tossed up an empty whiskey bottle. Linus, gun at the ready, trailed it with the end of his gun barrel, and fired. It shattered the green glass with ease, and the little, sparkling shards rained down onto the red dirt.

Violet smiled. “How’d you ever get to be so good a shot?” she asked.

“Plenty of practice,” Linus replied. He paused, inspired by a sudden thought. “What gun do you got again? Give it here.” Violet handed over her tiny gun. Linus looked it over and tsked. “Derringers. Good for boys and ladies in too many skirts. Why’d we ever give you one of these anyway?”

Violet shrugged. “I can’t say I got much of an aim. Had a pellet gun when I was younger, but I wasn’t never any good with it.”

Linus grunted. “Well, we got some time on our hands. Here.” Linus went to where Rory sat and undid a cloth satchel at the base of the barrel. Peeking over his shoulder, Violet noticed a full array of handguns in every shape, size, and color, with boxes of ammo to boot. After examining a few models, Linus finally settled on one he liked. It was a lighter gun metal, with a redwood handle and swirls etched into the side of the stirrup. After checking the chamber to be sure it was empty, Linus snapped it shut and handed it to her, butt first. “Take this,” he said.

Violet held it. It was far longer than her derringer, and heavier to boot. But it fit within her fingers as though they’d always belonged there. Violet rolled her wrist, testing the weight.

“How is it?” Linus asked. “Too much?”

Violet shook her head. “No. Matter of fact, it feels nice, almost. Balanced.”

Linus smiled. “Good. That there’s a Smith & Wesson model 3. Single action, fires carriages, six bullets to a chamber. This one here…” Linus examined the side of the gun, bent down, and returned with a flimsy, paper box. “…takes .44 caliber bullets. Here.” He handed the box to Violet. “This should do you.”

Violet held the gun to the light, admiring the detail scrawled into the metal. “It’s beautiful.”

“It’s deadly,” Linus warned. “A gun’s your best friend, or your worst enemy. It’s all about respecting that power. Too many men get their hands on a shiny piece of metal and then…” Linus held up two fingers and his thumb in the shape of a gun, and curled his thumb forward. “Bang. Get too big for their britches, and down they go. Either by their own gun or someone else’s.”

Violet nodded solemnly. “I need to learn. Teach me how to shoot like you.”

“Now that might take some time. But we gotta start somewhere, don’t we?” His smile twinkling, Linus gathered up a few discarded tin cans, and set them on the posts ten feet away. When he returned, he took Violet’s shoulders and squared her off to face her targets. “Hold it with both hands. Put your right hand on the grip, left hand on the right…that’s the way.” Linus nudged the inside of Violet’s elbow. “You never want your arms locked up too tightly. When that bullet goes off, the gun kicks back. You keep your elbow loose, and you have an easier time controlling it. Now here’s the tricky part. Push forward with your right hand…and back with your left.”

Violet turned to him. “What?”

“Push your hands against each other.” Linus made a fist and pressed his knuckles into his left palm. “If both hands are pushing, you keep the gun steady. Same way a looped rope holds up a tent; it’s pulling at either direction, so the tent stays put. Does that make sense?”

“I think so.” Feeling a little more confident, Violet put a few bullets into the gun’s chamber and observed her targets. She counted ten tin cans in total. With the gun in her grasp, Violet pushed and pulled in each hand, respectively. The gun quivered at the pressure, but stayed on point.

“Not too hard now. Don’t want to hurt yourself.” Violet let up, though only slightly. Linus pointed to the tomato can in the center of the lineup. “Aim for that one there. Cock back the hammer, and when you’re ready, squeeze the trigger, don’t pull it.”

“What’s that mean?”

“You’ll see.”

Violet took a deep breath. Her eyes fixed on the empty can. Digging her heels into the dirt, she braced her nerves, squeezed the trigger, and completely missed her target. A small puff of red dust rose into the wind, but the can remained unscathed. Violet huffed, discouraged. Linus smiled.

“No need to be hard on yourself. We got all day.” He tilted her arms just slightly. “I think you move just to the left when you fire. And try to keep your eyes open when the gun goes off. It ain’t easy, but it’ll help you hit.”

Violet shot again. The bullet ricocheted off a rock, just a few inches away from the tomato can. She was, at least, getting closer. Violet dropped her gun and put a hand on her hip. “Maybe it’s the wind?”

Linus’s smile grew. In a move too quick to follow, Linus whipped out his gun from his holster, held it to his hip, and began to cock and fire in rapid succession. He fired five bullets. Every single one hit a can with a sharp “ping!” Emptying his gun, Linus spun it around his finger and holstered it with ease. He folded his arms, satisfied. “I don’t think it’s the wind,” he teased.

Violet stared at the destroyed cans in awe. “Lord…” She shook her head. “You’re the best damn shot I’ve ever seen. How long’ve you been at it?”

“Since I could hold a gun straight.” Linus pulled his guns out, and Violet got a better look at them. They were weathered, and well loved. The pearl inlay twinkled beautifully in the afternoon sky. There were faint powder marks along the end of the barrel, but the gunmetal shone as though it’d been recently polished. And on each barrel was carved a word “Colt.”

“The Peacemakers,” he explained. “That’s what I call ‘em. Powerful, slick .45 caliber bullets. Easy to clean, hardly ever jams. These two girls are my pride and joy.”

“Where’d you get them? Don’t say you won them like Ginger…”

Linus spun his guns about in a theatrical display of dexterity. “Wouldn’t dream of gambling these away,” he said. He finished his tricks and holstered them both. “No ma’am. I saw these beauties locked away in an old Confederate’s mansion. I figured I could make better use of them than he ever could.”

Violet frowned. “Ain’t there anything in this world you don’t steal or cheat away, Linus?”

Linus chuckled and sat on an empty barrel. “Perhaps if I was the type of man white folks would sell to…” He gestured to his face, though his expression remained playful. “But unfortunately, no upstanding Christian man would give a horse and a gun to some smart mouthed Negro out of the good of his heart. I learned that lesson real early on.”

Violet looked to the gun in her hand. Was this stolen, too? Perhaps from a smith who wouldn’t give Linus the time of day, let alone his business. As sad as the story made her, Violet knew better than to doubt its authenticity. If the Railwalkers had taught her anything, it was that the world was far uglier than Violet ever knew.

Raising the Smith & Wesson again, she bent her elbow, squared her shoulders, and shot. This time, the tomato can knocked just slightly. It wasn’t a direct hit, but it was something. Violet turned to Linus, making sure he saw it. He nodded, assuring her that he had. As she readied for another try, Linus stood up from his barrel.

“Speaking of upstanding.” He tilted Violet’s arms just so and stood back, letting her focus. “How’s Mei been treating you?”

Bang! Violet’s gun went off, the kickback nearly jerking the pistol out of her hand. The bullet went far off course, and instead of the can, whacked a cactus plant just a few yards away. A chunk of it fell to the ground in a wet slump. Violet quickly fiddled with the pistol, keeping her eyes away from Linus’s prying gaze.

“Mei? Why would Mei be treating me any different?” Her ears burned; she could almost feel Linus grinning.

“Child. We have been in this compound for nearly thirty days. You think we don’t know what goes on in the room right next to us every night?”

Violet shifted uncomfortably. “I just…I don’t know if I—”

“Easy, Violet.” Linus put a hand on her shoulder, and Violet looked up. “No one here’s judging you. Ain’t that right, fellas?” Sitting Bear, who had taken to whittling a block of wood, shook his head, and kept his eyes on his work. Rory, his face sticky with sugar, smiled warmly and answered the same. “Truth be told, I think Mei’s been better for it. It’s been keeping her relaxed.”

“It has? I haven’t noticed a change.”

“Under normal circumstances, Mei’d be crawling out of her skin right now. That’s how much she hates staying put. I think you’ve been able to be a mighty fine distraction for her.”

At first, Violet felt a wave of pride, but almost immediately following, Violet’s heart began to droop. “Distraction?” Violet repeated. She stared at the gun in her hands, feeling warmth radiate from the barrel. “Is that all I am?”

Linus spoke quickly. “What? No, no, that ain’t—Violet, you know that’s not what you are.”

“Ain’t it?” Violet looked up to Linus helplessly. “The night after Malvern, Mei said she’d give me one year. One year to train me up, make sure I could handle myself on my own. Summer’s almost over…That year’s halfway done. When spring comes again, the year’ll be up. Won’t it?”

Linus stalled. Behind his spectacles, he desperately searched for the right thing to say. But no matter what he came up with, Violet knew that he would speak no comforts. Only Mei herself could answer such a question. And if Violet was being honest with herself, she was too afraid to ask her.

Violet returned to the tomato can. She raised her gun, her arm eerily still, and fired. The bullet hit its mark dead on, and flung the rusty can two feet into the air. When it fell, it clanked in a dull, hallow sound that echoed against the dirt. The ringing of the metal stayed trapped in Violet’s head, long after the bullet had left her gun.

* * * *

“We should shoe the horses before we leave.”

“Mm.”

“Do you think we got enough water? Bear mentioned how dry the trail would be—”

“We have water.”

“But do we have enough water? I think we should cook up an extra batch of biscuits to take with us too.”

“Violet.”

Sleepily, Mei lifted her head from the pillow. Violet only saw her dazed expression by the flickering of the oil lamp that Violet had left burning. “It is damn near morning. Will you get some sleep?”

“I can’t.” Sitting up against the headboard, Violet curled her knees up to her naked chest. Mei, covered only in the cotton sheet, lay face down beside her, her sable hair handsomely tussled from earlier that night. Violet traced the scars on Mei’s back with her eyes. “Being here’s been the safest I’ve felt in ages. I can’t help but worry what happens when we leave.”

Mei took a deep breath through her nose. She shut her eyes. “We survive. Same as we’ve always done.” Her hand, as if on its own, began to gently smooth down Violet’s leg. “We’ll have each other, and our wits. We’ll be just fine.”

Violet watched Mei’s hand trail up and down. Even after a month together, Mei’s touch still managed to give her butterflies. Reaching down, she took Mei’s hand in her own, and laced their fingers together. Although her eyes remained closed, Mei smiled against the pillow.

“You’re right,” said Violet. “I shouldn’t worry.”

“No,” Mei breathed. “You shouldn’t.”

Violet laid her head back against the board, and listened to the crickets outside their window. Although their room had stayed rather muggy from the day before, a cool breeze was on its way inside. Violet pushed her knotted hair away from her sweating neck, letting the air kiss it dry. “Mei? Can I ask you—?” Violet spotted Mei, and her words trailed off. Mei’s face was relaxed, her lips parted just so. She snored gently, her hand limp in Violet’s. Violet smiled in spite of herself and gently laid Mei’s hand aside.

Still wide awake, she observed the room. Their little bungalow had grown so comfortable for both of them. By this time tomorrow, they’d have no roof over their head, and no hay bed to share. It would be back on the trail, alone against the elements.

While deep in thought, Violet ran her fingers through her hair. However, she couldn’t exactly get far. Violet had accumulated more knots and tangles in the hot weather than she ever had before. Frowning, she caught sight of her reflection in the dingy mirror across the room. Her hair was unsightly; as ragged as a bird’s nest. Violet grabbed Mei’s ivory brush and tried to comb out the knots, but it was fruitless. Not wanting to bother Mei, Violet slipped from bed and sat on the stool next to the rickety wardrobe, atop which sat the cracked and dirty mirror.

She tried brushing her hair again, and again, found it useless. Frustrated, she set the brush down and wiped away the dirt on the mirror’s surface. It shifted beneath her hand, and in its reflection, she noticed a faint shine on the floor near Mei’s affects. Violet turned and noticed that Mei’s hunting knife, the same which ended the life of vile Mr. Munts, was barely hidden under the flap of Mei’s leather satchel.

A strange idea came to her. Violet glanced back at Mei, who was still asleep. Quiet as she could, she scuttled over to the bag and slipped the knife from its hiding place. Returning to the mirror, she hesitated. Against the amber light of the oil lamp, the blade shimmered along its deadly edge. She had wanted to cut her hair once. Only once. When she was six years old.

“Cut it? What in God’s name are you talking about?”

“It’s so hot, Mama. I can’t play long with it. Even when you put it up in braids it’s so heavy.”

“You are becoming a lady, Violet. Ladies do not disrespect themselves by cutting their hair. Or would you rather I sell you off to a whore house and let them learn you to be a trollop? Is that what you want?”

“No, Mama…”

Holding the knife tighter, Violet recalled her mother’s words with growing resentment. She could not cut her hair, because that is not what ladies do. She must wear lace and bloomers, even in the stifling heat, because that is what ladies do. She could not ride for too long, or play for too long. She could not get her boots muddy. She must attend church every Sunday, no matter how sick or tired she was. All her life, it was buttons, and lace, and ribbons. Trussed up like a Christmas turkey; bound from birth by her mother’s expectations.

Her eyes fell to Mei’s reflection. Sleeping, peaceful, beautiful Mei. A disparaging grin curled along her lips.

I wonder what Mama would say to me now?

Violet clutched a fistful of hair. Her right hand trembling, she raised the knife. Ladies don’t have impure thoughts. Violet cut through her hair as easily as slicing butter. She let it fall to the floor carelessly, took another clump, and cut again. Ladies sure as hell don’t act on them thoughts. More hair fell to her feet. Ladies don’t strip themselves bare for no one but their husband. She sliced through more and more hair. Faster now. Ladies don’t shoot guns. More hair fell. Ladies don’t smoke tobacco. More hair. Ladies ain’t outlaws. Even more. Ladies ain’t murderers.

Ladies don’t fall in love with women.

Violet set the knife down. Her heart pounded. Hair covered the floor like hay. Violet stared at herself in the mirror. Her face was the same, her neck was the same, her body was the same. Yet she felt like another person. Her short hair was choppy at best, and hugged her scalp tightly in uneven chunks. Some stuck out at odd angles, some curled. It was ugly. Violet loved it.

“It fits you.”

Violet spun around to see Mei, sitting up and staring. Violet wasn’t sure how long she’d been awake, but she was sure Mei had seen the bulk of it. Mei slipped out of bed and threw on her loose shirt. “A little shoddy though.” She rustled through her satchel before finding her leather shears. “You mind?” Violet shook her head, and Mei approached her from behind. With careful fingers, Mei began to clip the uneven ends of Violet’s new hair.

“I thought you was asleep.”

Mei’s reflection smiled. “I woke up when I felt you gone.” Her fingers threaded through Violet’s roots. Her nails worked into Violet’s scalp. Shivers ran down Violet’s arms. “Live like I do, and you tend to be a bit of a light sleeper.”

“Sorry…”

“Don’t be.” Mei snipped a few more odds and ends. “It keeps me alive from time to time.” The two fell into silence as Mei continued trimming Violet’s hair. It was a full ten minutes before she set the shears aside. “There. How’s that?”

It was far more even now. Shorter and well kept. Violet ran her fingers through her bangs. “Thank you,” she said.

Mei reached down and helped Violet to her feet. They shared a kiss. “Sleep now. We got a long road ahead of us.” Violet agreed, and the pair curled into bed together.

The next morning, Mei woke them all up before sunrise. Even in the early hour, they were on a tight schedule. According to Mei, they’d wasted enough time at the Bone House already, and every second more was a further mile for Abernathy. Violet had been tempted to ask more questions about Mei’s target, but kept them to herself. She figured that Mei would give her details when she felt ready to tell them.

They ate a quick breakfast and packed their saddle bags. The blacksmith woke early enough to reshoe their horses, and Violet gave each of them a good brushing. While at the stables, Rory presented the Railwalkers with a young colt that he had been working on gaining trust with. It was a spindly thing, with a chestnut coat and white socks. Rory asked to take it with them, in hopes that he’d be able to ride it one day; Madam Hen had decided to hand it over as a present. After a bit of coaxing, Mei agreed. Rory had named it Sweetpea, after his favorite pea soup in Appaloosa.

By the time the sun touched the mountains, the Railwalkers were readying themselves for the trail. It was a gray morning, with only faint hints of the summer heat in the air. Along with Sweetpea, Madam Hen had gifted them a mule, equipped with fresh water and provisions to help get them through the desert and into Carson City. As they readied their horses, Rory was trying desperately to fit a bit into Sweetpea’s maw. The young stallion jerked away every time, flicking its tail in annoyance. Violet chuckled, wondering just how Rory would do with his first horse.

Beside her, Sitting Bear was prepping his own horse, which gave Violet pause. “Hey Bear?” Sitting Bear turned. “What’s your horse named?”

Sitting Bear considered the question, and looked his spotted mustang over. “He has none.”

“No?” Violet combed her fingers through Maple’s mane. “You never gave him one? Not once?”

Sitting Bear shrugged. “It was not mine to give.” He paused, hand on his saddle blanket. “I am also not very creative.”

Violet smiled. “Well…” She walked up to the mustang and pat its nose. Its deep brown eyes gazed endlessly at Violet. “Where’d you find him anyhow?”

Sitting Bear paused. His hand gently stroked the horse’s neck. “Malvern,” he said. There was deep hesitation in his voice, and he took longer than usual to form his words. When he finally did speak again, he did so quietly, and Violet strained to listen. “You recall my family was forced off our lands?” Violet nodded. Sitting Bear kept his eyes forward. “Many of my people died as a result. I was angry. I found guns. I returned home. I used them.” With an eerily quiet reserve, he looked Violet straight in the eye. “I found an encampment by the springs. I slaughtered the white men on our lands. Every one. This…” He returned to the horse, his features softening. “…this horse was a mere foal when I came upon it. The other horses had fled. This one stayed. And so, we kept each other’s company.” He fitted his saddle on the mustang’s back and tightened the strap. “That is our story.”

Violet returned to the horse. Its soft eyes had not changed, though its lips shifted uneasily against its bit. Violet pet it down the front of its face. “Sounds like y’all went through some hard times together.” Sitting Bear nodded. Violet ran her finger up and down a spattering of white against its muzzle. She turned to Sitting Bear. “Why not ‘Dove’?”

“Dove?” said Sitting Bear.

“It’s just…y’all have seen so much war and blood. But you found peace with each other. Wouldn’t you say?”

Sitting Bear considered the name. A smile curled along his lips. “He shall be called Dove.” Dove, newly christened, pawed at the dirt in approval.

“Sweetpea, don’t—whoa—!” A bit of commotion caught Violet’s attention. Violet looked over Dove to see Rory accidentally pushed down into the mud by Sweetpea. Then, to add insult to injury, Sweetpea decided that now would be a perfect time to lay down and relax. It plopped right on top of Rory and dug its hooves in the mud. Rory flailed underneath, and Violet, stifling her laughter, quickly came to his aide.

“Rory—!” She took his hand and yanked him out from under the foal. Dazed, Rory looked up at Violet, caked with mud.

“I guess Sweetpea’s a girl,” was all he said.

Saddled up, they came to the entrance of the compound to set off before burning too much daylight. Madam Hen, dressed in black for the occasion, awaited them clutching a handkerchief.

“Ay, mija, must you leave so soon?” She dabbed an inexplicably dry eye with her kerchief. “What is an old woman to do, alone and neglected?”

Mei rolled her eyes and brought Madam Hen into a big bear hug. “We’ll miss you too, Henny.”

Madam Hen broke away and held up a finger. “Write to me, mija. Every time you get the chance. I worry about you.”

“Yes, Henny.”

Madam Hen kissed Mei on either side of her face, and then turned to Rory. Without warning, she scooped him up and planted a massive kiss on his cheek, leaving an embarrassingly large mark in its wake. Rory squirmed until she set him back down on his feet. “You be good to your new amiga, chamaco. ¿Verdad?”

“Yessum,” said Rory, roughly wiping his face with his sleeve.

Madam Hen said goodbye to Sitting Bear and Linus in similar fashion, although Linus took time to leave Madam Hen with a kiss to her hand, as any proper gentleman would. Finally, she came to Violet. She beamed, touching the ends of Violet’s hair with her fingertips. “It was an honor to have you, mija.”

Violet smiled back. She leaned in and gave Madam Hen a deep, meaningful hug. Madam Hen returned it in kind. “Thank you for your hospitality, ma’am.” She broke the hug. “Truth be told, I ain’t never felt so blessed as when I was here with y’all. I hope I can see you again real soon.”

Moved, Madam Hen held a hand to her breast. Her eyes teared up, this time for real, and she turned away, overcome with emotion. “Ay ay…va, antes de me avenguenzo.” Taking that as their cue, they saddled up and headed out. Violet continued to watch the Bone House fade into the distance, until it blinked into the nothingness of the horizon.

Chapter 11

Although the day had started out blissfully cool, it only got hotter as the hours moved on. To save their horses at the hottest part of the afternoon, the Railwalkers went on foot. The flat stretches of desert began to curve with every mile, until forming mountains at the edge of the horizon. The brush scratched and scraped their boots, and the hot air strangled them. Despite this, they were careful with their water, and only had occasional sips to keep themselves living. More than once, Violet saw buzzards overhead. She ignored the unsettling feeling they brought with them.

For countless days they traversed the desert. They ate the freshest food first, to prevent spoil, and left each morning before sunup. Their plan, according to Mei, was to travel until reaching the Rio Grande, then venture northwest from there, stopping in for supplies along towns and trade routes along the way. From where the Bone House was, they had about a two week trip on foot. Near the end of the first, Violet would wake in endless sweat, her mouth dry as the sand they walked upon. Desperate to conserve their energy, they refrained from speaking most days, and were so tired in the evening that all energy was spent eating, scouting, and sleeping.

By the tenth day, their water was running thin. In the small hours of the early morning, Linus and Sitting Bear took it upon themselves to collect as much cactus juice as they could manage to carry. It left Violet sticky, and thirstier than before, but it kept her alive. The water was divvied up among the horses. And then finally, on the twelfth day, they were greeted one hot afternoon with the smell of water in the air.

Rory saw it first. Excitedly, he pointed out, and without warning, rushed to the riverbank. Violet was the next to follow. They fell to the water in utter joy, drinking and wetting their hair. They spent the whole day at the river, letting the toil of the desert trail wash away from them.

Violet and Mei, finding a secluded mouth a small ways out, stripped down and took a bath together. Poised behind a rock, she and Mei waded in the chilled river, washing the mud and dirt off their bodies. While scrubbing her arms, Violet was quietly grateful that she had cut her hair before they left Bone House. She could only imagine the weight of Mei’s hair on her neck in the boiling heat.

“Mei,” she said. “Turn around a moment.” Mei did so, and Violet began to braid her hair. “Figger we should keep it up off your shoulders. You’ll be cooler.”

Mei closed her eyes and smiled, head bobbing just barely above water. “Smart thinking.” They floated together in silence, the sun warming their exposed, wet skin. Once Mei’s hair was braided, Violet began to curl it into a tight bun in the back of her head. With no pin to help, Violet tucked the ends in on themselves and hoped for the best.

“Feel better?” she said.

Mei nodded. “Much.” She wiped a few stray hairs from her face and rounded to Violet. Her stomach flipped with delight, and Violet wrapped her arms around Mei’s neck. They shared a deep kiss, suspended against the river’s pull.

Voices drew them out of their solitude. Violet looked up from the bank of the river to see a small posse of men on horseback approaching them. She and Mei remained where they were, but floated closer to the river bank, just to be sure that their guns were at arms’ length.

“Pardon us, fellas—” The leader of the pack spoke as he approached. He was obviously younger than he let on, riding with a gait that belied authority. But the baby fat in his clean, peachy face hinted that he was barely Violet’s age. Upon coming close enough to make out the details in Mei and Violets’ faces, he promptly turned his horse about face, his neck beet red from the mix-up. “Oh Lord—! I thought…Deepest apologizes, ladies, I thought for sure…” As he sputtered out an apology, the rest of the horsemen approached. The next man to speak was in every way the first man’s opposite.

“Forgive the intrusion, ma’am.” He was grizzled, with a salt and pepper beard spattered across a wrinkled countenance. He spoke with a raspy, graveled voice. The three others behind him were similar in fashion. The grizzly man kept his eyes pinned to Violet, all but ignoring Mei’s existence. “Don’t mean to be impolite, but I’m afraid these parts ain’t fit for travelers. We’d like you to move along as soon as you’re done, here.”

Violet and Mei exchanged glances. “How so?” Violet asked.

“Bandits, ma’am,” said the grizzly man. “Mexican desperadoes that prey on travelers. They’ve been hitting wagons and merchants all along the outskirts of El Paso.” He gestured to the men behind him. “Me’n the boys here have been keeping watch along the roads to escort folk like yourselves to safe passage. So when you and your handmaid are all finished up, we’d like it if y’all came with us.”

Violet snorted. Mei a handmaid? Perish the thought. “I think we’ll be fine on our own, gentlemen, but thank you kindly.”

The men shifted uncomfortably. The grizzly man smiled just so, and tipped his hat back to see better. “I’m afraid that’s not much of an offer, miss. We’ve been ordered to give any and all travelers ‘round here escort to San Elizario Mission.”

But Violet shook her head. “Even so, we’re gonna have to decline. Sorry.”

The men mumbled to one another. After coming to a consensus, the grizzly man sat up straighter in his saddle and furrowed his wiry brow. “Now miss, I’m gonna ask you one last time. We’ll give you some privacy to dress yourself, and then we escort you to safety. I ain’t havin’ your blood on my hands, thank you very much.”

Before Violet could retort, Mei pushed herself out of the water, much to the shock and embarrassment of the rough men. Keeping her eyes on the grizzly man, Mei picked up her Winchester, cocked it once, and pointed it right between the man’s eyes. Her face remained impassive.

“Funny. I ain’t worried about getting your blood on mine.”

The men stirred, some nervously fingering the guns on their hips. But Violet knew that look in Mei’s eye; the cold, bloodless, impenetrable glare that chilled to the bone. No doubt the men unconsciously knew that they were dealing with someone terribly dangerous.

“The lady said no,” Mei continued. “Now I suggest you honor that choice, unless I decide to lame your horses and watch y’all crawl home.”

The young man, who forced himself out of his embarrassment, puffed his chest and reached for his gun. “I ain’t a’scared a’no hot headed chink whore—!” Just as he pulled out his pistol, Mei tilted her barrel and fired. The bullet pierced the young man’s hand, forcing him to drop his six shooter and howl in pain.

The grizzly man held out a hand, stopping any retaliation through either side. Though the air was tenser than ever, the panic settled. He addressed Mei with a steady voice. “We came here under peaceful intentions. There ain’t no need for violence.”

“I’d say an attempt to force a vulnerable woman to do as you say is a perfect need for violence.” Mei kept her gun raised, but took a step back, dismissing the men. “It was a pleasure, fellas.” The grizzly man motioned for the others to follow, and with their pride wounded, they rode off down the dusty trail.

Violet let out a gleeful laugh. “Wheeeee—wee…And here I thought I couldn’t like you any more’n I did.” She held out her hands as Mei flashed her a coy smile. “C’mere, handmaid.”

Mei scoffed and walked back into the cool, inviting waters, and they laced their arms together. “Don’t you go getting ideas.” Laughing together, the enjoyed the rest of their bath in peace.

* * * *

Violet was walking. She’d been walking for hours, but her feet felt like air.

Nothing was heavy. Not even her steel toed boots.

The world was soft, and white.

Violet looked around.

There were figures in the distance. Slim, barely visible, fading with the horizon.

Hey!

Violet tried to shout.

She couldn’t.

Hey, hey! Over here!

In and out the figures faded. In and out. In and out.

Black became white. Up became down.

Her whole world spun around her.

And then a pain. A bullet. Her heart was bleeding. She covered the wound, but more blood came. It gushed, turning black like oil when it hit the ground. And there, holding the gun, was Mei.

Up…get up…

“Get up, you good for nothin’ bitch.”

Violet awoke to a rough kick to her stomach. Blurry eyed and woozy, Violet looked around. Men, hidden in shadow, surrounded the Railwalkers’ camp. Sitting Bear struggled against taut rope. Linus and Rory remained still, a gun to each of their heads. And Mei, sweaty and furious, was pressed to the ground beneath the heel of a boot. Her own Winchester was pointed directly at her temple.

“You gonna get to your feet or am I gonna have to drag you?” Violet recognized the voice of the grizzly man from before. Panicked, Violet’s first instinct was to knock the guns away, but she thought better of it. One itchy trigger could end the lives of any of her friends, and so she remained still. “Up, goddamn it.” The grizzly man yanked Violet by her arm, pulling her to her knees. The grizzly man spat onto the ground, and rounded to her, Mei’s gun cradled in his arm.

“We tried bein’ nice,” he said. Violet could smell the whiskey on his breath. “Guess we just do it this way, then. Either way, we get our money.”

“Money for what?” Violet demanded. The men chuckled.

Linus, his eyes burning into the sand, spoke first. “They mean to sell us.”

“Sell? But you can’t—!”

“Aww.” The grizzly man knelt down in front of Violet and grinned. In the moonlight, Violet could see every tobacco-stained hole in his teeth. “Ain’t that cute. Let me guess. A northern girl? Probably a lover of old ‘Honest Abe,’ ain’t she, boys?” The men laughed, louder this time. The grizzly man tilted Violet’s chin up with the tip of the Winchester’s barrel. “Marshals won’t care what we do with a nigger, a chink, and a red man. And you, my dear, will fetch a pretty penny at an El Paso whore house, I reckon. I bet you ain’t never even felt a man before, have you? They pay extra for virgins—”

In a sudden jolt, Mei knocked the boot off her neck and slammed her whole body against the grizzly man. They went down in a tussle, and in the chaos, Rory managed to slip from camp and high tail it into the darkness. One of the men fired after him, but Rory was too quick, and the night hid him too well. After subduing Mei, the grizzly man stood, and motioned his gunman to remain at ease. “Let ‘em go,” he said. “If the Mexicans don’t get to him, the buzzards will.” The grizzly man turned to the rest of them, who remained helplessly at gunpoint. “Well. No time like the present. Let’s get a move on.”

Each one of the Railwalkers were bound by their hands with scratchy hemp rope. Tied to the back of a horse each, they were marched away from the Rio Grande and into the desert. For hours they walked, the men occasionally tugging at their leads for sport. The Railwalkers were instructed to keep quiet, and so Violet spent her morning listening in on the men’s conversations.

The grizzly man was named Richard, and from his saddle hung a preserved shred of a burned Confederate flag. The young one, now nursing the bullet wound in his hand, was Tom. The other three were Simon, Victor, and Hank, respectively, though Violet had a hard time telling them apart. From what Violet could gather, this was Tom’s first time out, as the others ribbed him for being green on the trail. Victor and Hank had an ongoing bet over something, and neither could decide who owed whom what money and when. Simon, whom Violet eventually identified as rather portly around the middle, kept the party supplied with distasteful jokes, usually at the Railwalkers’ expense. Typically, he described either imagery of what he wanted to do to Violet, or blatantly regarded the other three as less than human. The experience was hellish.

By the time they arrived at El Paso, it was high noon. The Railwalkers were famished and drenched with sweat. El Paso was bustling, with massive public buildings and wide city streets. An overlooking hotel perched at the main corner, while inns, bars, and brothels fanned out behind it. A measly church sat idle in the distance.

“Afternoon, sheriff.” Richard spoke to a man who approached them. He was dark around the eyes, with a dinged-up star on his waistcoat. The sheriff gestured to the Railwalkers, as if to ask about them. Richard nodded in his captives’ direction. “Horse thieves,” he said. He held out his hand, motioning to the Railwalkers’ horses. “Caught ‘em off the Rio Grande.”

“All right,” said the sheriff, looking them over. “Let’s take ‘em in. We got a man out from the railroad who might need some extra hands.” Mei, though she kept her eyes focused downward, immediately tensed. Violet wanted nothing more than to reach for her hand. The sheriff circled them before stopping at Violet. He removed Violet’s hat, looking at her face. “What’s this one’s story?”

“Accomplice.”

Finally, Violet couldn’t stay silent any longer. “That’s a lie!” All eyes snapped up to her, her friends’ included. “We didn’t steal no horses, no how! These horses are ours! That one there, that’s Maple! She’s been mine since I was four and a half years old!”

“Violet…” Mei hushed.

“These men kidnapped us!” Violet pointed her bound hands at Richard and his crew. “We was sound asleep when they came up on us! They held us at gun point, beat us senseless, and dragged us here to sell us like cattle!” After her proclamation, Violet took a moment to catch her breath. The men passed each other uncertain looks. Richard slipped from his saddle and approached Violet. Though he wore a smile, his eyes were poisonous.

“Poor thing,” he growled. “Must be some kind of Oriental mind trick, make her believe such nonsense.”

Violet whipped around to the sheriff. “I’m telling you—!”

Whack! Richard smacked the back of his hand against Violet’s face. The blow didn’t hurt much on its own, but the force nearly knocked her off her feet. Lifting her head, the copper taste of blood filled her mouth. The sheriff didn’t seem the slightest bit moved.

“All right. Get them to the station and we’ll sort them out.”

Richard and his men dragged the Railwalkers down towards the sheriff’s station, which was little more than a pine box with three connecting cells inside. Sitting Bear and Linus were thrown into the middle cell, and Mei and Violet had the left. The right was occupied by a snoring drunk, flies buzzing around his open mouth. Once the sheriff closed and locked the cell doors, he and Richard went outside to chat, leaving the Railwalkers to their stuffy new arrangements.

Immediately, Mei bent a knee to observe the damage Richard left on Violet’s face. “Did he hurt you?” she demanded.

Violet smiled, bitterly. “You do worse,” she said. Violet looked up to Linus and Sitting Bear. “Why didn’t y’all fight? Speak up, anything?”

Linus shook his head. “It wouldn’t make a difference. Look what good it did you.” Violet hung her head. “You’re on our level now, Vi. Don’t matter how much truth you talk, won’t nobody believe you in our company.”

“So what are we gonna do?” Violet asked. “We can’t just…” Violet gestured around her, at a loss for words. “Hell, they’re gonna throw me into a whore house!”

“We’ll get out of here,” said Mei. “Don’t you worry. We’ve gotten out of worse scrapes than this before.”

“Not to mention they don’t know who we are,” Linus added. “Otherwise they wouldn’t bother selling us to a railroad. We’d be headed for the noose as we speak.” Linus leaned against the wall of his cell and pulled out his harmonica, which had been hidden in his inside pocket. “Sometimes, there’s value to bein’ invisible.” Flipping over a bucket, Linus made himself comfortable and began to play. It was a somber, gentle song, and despite their predicament, Violet felt comforted.

Outside, Violet heard the men talk. It was hard to really listen, but a few words made it passed the noise of the outside world. Words like “construction,” and “liable” first came to the forefront. Unfortunately, there were too many fragments to piece together the whole of it, until a loud voice boomed,

“Ah, Mr. DeWitt! You’re still around! Excellent.”

Violet didn’t find anything unusual with that name; she certainly hadn’t heard of it before. But Mei, also listening in, snapped up like a firecracker. Her eyes pierced through the entrance of the station, though the sunlight washed away any details of who’d be standing there. Violet observed Mei curiously. She opened her mouth to ask, when the men outside stepped inward.

First came the sheriff. After him followed Richard and Tom. The fourth was a man Violet hadn’t yet seen. He was tall, and impressive. He wore a white suit, impeccably kept, even in the dusty climate. His hair was black, but peppered with wise gray. On his sharp jaw was a well-groomed mustache, trimmed to the closest whisker. Beside her, Violet could feel Mei tighten, like a stick of dynamite ready to blow.

“We got some new degenerates, Mr. DeWitt,” said the sheriff. “Figured you’d wanna take a look-see before we send ‘em off to the chain gang, eh?”

Mr. DeWitt stepped forward and first peered into Linus and Sitting Bear’s cage. Violet noticed that they were about as tense as Mei. “Fine specimens, gentlemen.” His accent was strongly southern, and was a dialect Violet hadn’t heard since Georgia, though she doubted he was from there. “Do they speak English?”

“The gook does,” said Richard, gesturing at Mei. “Not sure about the Injun.”

“Well, no matter. I’ve dealt with brutes of his sort before.” His eyes trailed to Violet. He cocked a curious brow. “And this wildflower here, sir? Surely you don’t intend to put a girl on the tracks?”

“We got plenty a whore houses ready to take the bobcat,” Richard replied. “My guess is she might even be a virgin. She’d be worth money hand over fist at that rate.”

“Really.” Mr. DeWitt stood in front of the cell door and eyed Violet, much how a buyer would eye a prized hound before purchase. “Stand up, girl.” Violet looked to Mei, who was seething red by now. With Mei unresponsive, Violet stood. “What’s your name, child?”

Again, Violet looked to Mei for aid. Mei remained as she was. “Violet,” she said.

“Violet,” Mr. DeWitt repeated. “A beautiful name. It is a pleasure.” He removed his white hat and spoke clearly: “My name is Jacob Abernathy DeWitt. Most folk just call me Abernathy.”

Abernathy.

Violet whipped to Mei, who had been just as she was. Abernathy. Was this Mei’s target? Standing before them, totally within reach, and yet, utterly protected against anything the Railwalkers might try. Violet knew now that it was taking every inch of Mei’s self-control to keep herself still.

“Now then.” Abernathy squared his hat back firmly on his head and smiled, cordially. “How’ve these men been treating you?” He chuckled. “I swear. Western men have no sense of congeniality. Sheriff.” He addressed the lawman. “This young lady is not fit to be in the company of animals. If you please.”

The sheriff seemed put out, but obliged. He opened the door for Violet to exit, but just as Abernathy took a single step forward, Mei barreled square into him, knocking him to the ground. Mei fought like a bat out of hell, so quick and deadly in her attack that, although brutal, Mei had pounced entirely silent. Every ounce of focus she could spare was funneled directly into one objective: Kill Jacob Abernathy DeWitt.

“Damned chink!” With a yell, Richard threw his weight into Mei, and eventually knocked her down into the corner. Her own Winchester still in his hands, he pinned her to the wall and set the sights of the rifle right between her eyes. “Mr. DeWitt!” Richard panted. “You give the word and I blow this bitch back to Kingdom Come!”

“No, no, easy now sir.” With the help of the sheriff, Abernathy stood and dusted off his jacket. He now sported a nasty bruise and a split lip, and his perfect suit was frayed at the seams. Other than those few minor injuries, Mei had been knocked off before she did any real damage. “I like them with a little fire. Though, perhaps, not as much fire as this one.” He straightened his necktie. “I will say, my company doesn’t plan to build here for a few years yet, gentlemen. If you could possibly break this one by that time, I’m sure she’ll be invaluable.” He returned to Violet, who had watched the whole thing helplessly. “Now…What do you say we get you away from such unfit company?” He held out his hand for Violet to take.

But Violet’s resolve hardened. Her eyes peered into Abernathy’s, now without a shred of fear. “I think I’m just fine here, Mr. DeWitt.”

Abernathy’s smile faltered. “Now Miss Violet,” he warned, “be reasonable. You stay here, and you either get shipped off to a women’s prison or a brothel house. I’d rather not leave a young lady in such a predicament, being the philanthropist that I am. We can work on sending you home, darling.”

But Violet had already retreated further into the cell. She stood tall as she could, and kept her voice steady. “And I’d rather die a whore than go along with the likes of you.”

Abernathy lowered his hand. “I see,” he said. He took out a handkerchief and wiped the blood and sweat from his chin. “Well, I can at least respect your resolve, no matter how foolish.” He turned to make his exit. “Good luck with that one, boys. You’re going to need it, I dare say.”

And with that, Jacob Abernathy DeWitt was gone.

The rest of the afternoon, the Railwalkers were isolated. Their dinner consisted of a few stale pieces of bread and watery gravy, accompanied by tin mugs of water. The cell was stiflingly hot. Blocked off completely from any natural breeze, the air was stale, and by four, Violet’s clothes were slick with sweat. Additionally, the dry atmosphere chalked up her throat. She nursed her cup of water for as long as she could. Even when the tin was bone dry, Violet occasionally put her lips to the edge, as if to siphon any remaining moisture that might have been hidden within. While they were left to their confinement, Violet dwelled on what had bothered her since that morning.

“I hope Rory’s all right,” she finally croaked. “Granted, I’m good and thankful that he don’t gotta suffer this with us, but—” She shook her head. “It’s so hot. And Rory, all alone…He don’t got nothing to eat, nothing to fight with.” She stopped when Mei laid a hand on her shoulder.

“Don’t you worry too much about Rory,” she said. “He’ll be just fine.”

“But how do you know?” Violet asked.

“He’s a survivor,” said Linus. “Always has been. Don’t you fret.”

It was unsatisfactory, but the answer would have to do. Just then, the door had swung open, and in walked the sheriff, this time in the company of a woman. She was older, her graying blonde hair pinned tightly to the back of her head. Judging from her shiny emerald dress and visible garters, Violet harbored a guess that she wasn’t exactly a governor’s wife.

“Is this the one?” she said, approaching Violet’s cell. Her features were sharp and unwelcoming, with a beaky nose and thin lips, curled perpetually into a sour sneer. She tsked. “Hardly a golden goose, Arnie.”

Arnie—the sheriff—ran his thumbs up and down his suspenders. “No,” he agreed, “but she’s cheap.”

Violet stood, her heart pounding in her ears. It didn’t take much to piece two and two together. “You can forget it,” she snapped. “I ain’t goin’ with her, no way no how. You can’t sell me to no dirty cathouse, no sir.”

The green woman turned to Sheriff Arnie. “Is she always so ornery?”

“From what I can tell.”

“Lord.” The green woman took out a hand fan and opened it with a loud “snap!” She waved it against her sweaty neck and looked Violet up and down. “Still. I suppose some of the clients wouldn’t mind the challenge.”

“Oh, I got more than a challenge for ‘em! You force any man on me and I’ll cut ‘em up good and proper—!” Her arm suddenly jerked, and Violet was brought down to her knees. Mei, who had kept crouched, spoke softly and quickly.

“Go with them,” she said. Violet’s jaw dropped in horror, but Mei continued. “You get out of this cell, and you get a chance to make a run for it. You got a better chance of it than any of us. Go.”

Violet, with a heavy heart, knew that Mei was right. Her eyes teared up at the thought of leaving Mei’s side. Before she could open her mouth to say goodbye, Sheriff Arnie whacked the cell door with his gun, making Violet jump out of her skin.

“Well?” said Arnie. “You coming quietly or do we ship you to New York, girl?”

Violet’s chest was so tight, it hurt. She took Mei’s hand and squeezed it. Mei squeezed back. Defeated, Violet stood and hung her head. Arnie opened the cell door and yanked Violet out by the arm. The door was promptly closed and locked behind her. Keeping his meaty hand clamped around Violet’s arm, Arnie shoved Violet away from the cells and out into the blinding sunlight.

The green woman led them both around the corner and towards a stately building at the end of the road. The sign above the wide doors read: “The Pearl Parlor.” Along the front porch, women lingered in welcoming positions, fanning themselves and beckoning passers-by. The green woman walked Arnie and Violet into the cool lobby of the brothel. Men sat around circular tables, drinking and playing cards, even this early in the afternoon. Women were scattered here and there, entertaining their male patrons with shots of whiskey and frivolous attention.

“This way,” said the green woman. She turned down a long, winding hallway, which led to a back stairwell. Up two narrow flights, they came upon an office, and the green woman took a seat behind a dark, wooden desk. There was an iron safe to her right, and a shelf of books and documents to her left. She even had a whiskey decanter for visitors, and a couple of chairs opposite her own, which she offered to Arnie.

While Arnie helped himself to a seat and a shot of liquor, Violet stood in the center of the office, stiff and observant. “How long do I gotta stay here?” she asked, pointedly.

“Well, let’s see now…” Arnie swirled his shot glass before downing the whiskey. “I’d say them horses you stole—they’s at what? A hundred a head? Easy? Except the foal, probably.” He poured another shot and leaned back in his chair. “Not to mention a penalty for the crime itself. I’d say a fair price would be…$450?”

“Four hundred—?!” Violet paled, her voice cracking at the fine.

Arnie nodded, sipping his second glass of whiskey. “You want to avoid a trial and a five year prison sentence, I suggest you work that off here under Miss Bethany. What do you think a gal like her should charge, Miss Bethany?”

Miss Bethany, as the green woman was called, leaned back in her chair and once more took Violet into consideration. Her spindle fingers fiddled with the hand fan. “At present?” she said. “Two dollars. Perhaps three, when she gets better at it. One day, she might even be able to charge five.”

“There you have it.” Arnie finished his second whiskey and stood, addressing Violet. “You get them horses paid off working here, and your debt to society will be considered on account.”

“But that…” Violet looked between them, weakly. “That’ll take years.”

“Well then you better start workin’, girl.” With a cruel grin, Arnie swatted Violet’s behind and left the office. Violet clung to a chair in front of her, which was the only thing keeping her standing. Every part of Violet trembled with anger, and her vision blurred as tears tempted welled in her eyes.

“All right, enough of that.” Miss Bethany stood, holding her fan with both palms. “First thing’s first. Won’t no man want you in that mess.” Miss Bethany reached over and yanked on a satin cord. A distant bell rang below them, and soon after, two young women appeared at the open door. “Maisey, Anna May, get this girl washed and dressed. She starts tonight.”

“Yes, ma’am.” The two women took Violet by the hands and led her (far more gently than Arnie) back downstairs. In a back room with a wooden tub, Maisey and Anna May helped Violet undress, and then scrubbed her in the bath. The bristles were stiff and scratched her skin, leaving it red and tender.

“It’s been a while since we got any new girls,” said the shorter of the two (Maisey). She was a chubby, round faced girl with two muddy red braids. “You’ll like it here. Miss Bethany is a little rough around the edges, but we’re really just one big family.”

Anna May nodded, scrubbing the dirt roughly from Violet’s scalp. “Now you should know some rules before you get started.” Anna May was a tall, gangly girl, with sandy hair, pinned up by a feathery head piece that matched her powder blue dress. “We don’t start work till about three, after everyone has their dinner. You got a quota of about ten clients a week. Any less than that and Miss Bethany demotes you to chore work.”

“Though we wouldn’t recommend that,” said Maisey. “House chores only pays about fifty cents a day. A good night of work can earn you twenty dollars if you keep at it.”

“And don’t let Miss Bethany ever catch you givin’ none away for free. You get yourself a sweetheart, you keep that secret. We had a girl, Yolanda, got caught sneakin’ off with her boy. Miss Bethany charged her fifteen whole dollars for work owed.”

Maisey picked up a small pair of clippers and began to trim Violet’s grubby nails. “Speaking of, the house gets ten percent of what you make each night. Sorta like rent.” Anna May paused and leaned forward. “You got all that?” Violet said nothing. She sat in the tepid water, numb to the rough scrubbers and harsh rules of the whore house. Maisey paused clipping, and she and Anna May exchanged glances. Anna May pulled her hands from Violet’s hair.

“Sugar?” She gently touched Violet’s shoulder. “Are you all right?”

Violet curled into a tight ball and buried her face in her bruised knees. She sniffed, gripping her arms tightly. “Can I…be alone for just a bit, please?”

There was a moment of understanding between the two girls, and they both stood from their stools. “Of course,” said Anna May. “You just call us when you’re ready, darlin’. No need to rush it.” She ushered Maisey out, and closed the door to the back room to give Violet her privacy.

Violet kept still, and listened closely. After a bit of chatter, Violet heard their footsteps walk off deeper into the house. She lifted her head and waited a moment in silence before launching out of the water and hurrying to the nearest window. It was high and small, so as to provide modesty to the girls bathing inside. On her tiptoes, Violet peered outside. Richard and his men were idling in the back of the brothel, laughing and smoking cigarettes. Grimacing, Violet pulled from the window. If she was going to escape, it couldn’t be in broad daylight.

With no other choice, Violet finished her bath and called for Maisey and Anna May to return.

* * * *

“This will be your room. Not the best, but you can work up to better.” Anna May opened the door, and Violet took a look inside. Her room was a 6x6 box with an old wood frame bed, broken down dresser, and a washbowl. There was a single window, but the hinges looked too rusty to use. Violet noticed a small cluster of flies gathering at the window’s small crack.

“Right, that’s about everything.” Anna May observed the room and straightened her skirts. “Now if there’s anything you need, don’t bother Miss Bethany. You call for me or Maisey and we’ll help you with anything. Are you hungry?” Violet shook her head. “Well then, I guess we get to it.” She nodded to the wardrobe. “Should be something suitable for you in there. Whenever you’re ready, come on down and pick out a client. Or you can just wait for one here. Your choice.” With one last smile, Anna May left Violet to her devices.

Violet stood there a moment, looking around her new home. Heart heavy, she pulled open the top drawer of the wardrobe. A fresh-ish pair of stockings and a beat up old bible stared at her. She moved on to the second drawer, and found a brown cloth dress. She held it up to her person. It was her size, but hardly ideal. There were holes and sloppy patches everywhere, and the seams were wearing down. The whole thing smelled old and musty, and Violet tossed it aside in disgust.

There was a knock at the door. Violet turned to see it open, and in stepped Simon. Of the handful of Richard’s men, Simon was no doubt the ugliest in the bunch. Aside from his generous belly, Simon had missing teeth and rough, cratered skin. His eyes were yellow from drink, which Violet smelled immediately upon his arrival. He ran his hand down his craggy face, his beady eyes taking in Violet’s every detail.

“They said I’d find you here.” He took a swig from the bottle he held, and closed the door behind him. “Had to pay more than you’re worth, in my opinion. But, that first bite always tastes so much better.” He finished up his bottle and set it down on the dresser. His slimy tongue ran along the top row of his tobacco-stained teeth. “Well then? Let’s see what I paid for.”

Violet remained stiff and alert. “I don’t gotta show you nothin’.”

“That right? I guess I should just call Rich for a one-way ticket to Ossining, horse thief.”

Violet’s skin burned down to her toes. Disgusted and angry, she turned away from him and began to unbutton her shirt. She could hear Simon breathe behind her. Each sickening growl was moist with saliva as he watched her undress. Violet got down to the final button, moving as slowly as she could. In the reflection of the glass, her eyes had fixated on one particular item: the empty liquor bottle.

“What’s takin’ so long?” Simon demanded.

“Button’s stuck.”

“Stuck? Shit, I’ll saw that damn button off.” Simon’s heavy footfalls came towards her. Just when he closed the gap between them, Violet turned sharply and launched her elbow deep into Simon’s thick gut. He grunted in surprise and stumbled away. Before he could gather his wits, Violet sprung towards the liquor bottle, grabbed the neck, and smashed it over Simon’s big head. He cried out, flailing blindly. Bottle neck in hand, Violet made for the door, but was quickly tugged back.

“Bitch!” Simon jerked her away by her arm and threw her against the bed. He lurched for her, but Violet slashed the air, narrowly missing his ugly face. Simon grabbed her wrist, nearly crushing it in his beefy hand. As he struggled to yank the bottle neck from her fingers, Violet reared back and slammed both heels right into his crotch. His eyes bulged and his face flashed red as he toppled over from pain. A second time, Violet made a run for it. But even in his pained state, Simon managed to grab ahold of Violet’s arm. His mouth frothing with rage, Simon balanced on one knee, his fingernails digging into her arm.

“I paid to fuck ya,” he seethed through clenched teeth. “But now? Now I’m just gonna kill ya.” He grabbed Violet’s throat and pinned her to the bed. Immediately, Violet struggled for air. She tried kicking again, but Simon laid a heavy knee on both of her legs. No matter how much training Mei gave her, a man of Simon’s size still had the advantage. Gasping for air, Violet’s vision began to fade dark. Simon had her beat.

Well. Almost beat.

With as much strength as Violet could muster, she grabbed hold of his pinky around her neck and pulled. The next thing she knew, Simon yelped like a wounded puppy, and pulled both hands away from her. Coughing and light headed, Violet swung wildly. The punches weren’t power-packed, but they were enough to unsettle Simon’s balance. He fell against one of the posters of the bed frame, snapping off the tip on his way down.

Violet desperately searched for the broken bottle, but found it shattered beneath the heel of Simon’s massive boot. However, the splintered bedpost was well within her reach. The broken end had formed itself into a sharp stake; deadlier, perhaps, than any shard of glass. Violet swiped it from the floor and stood. Simon managed to slump to his feet. Rattled, he assessed the weapon Violet held at the ready. He snorted. “The hell you gonna do with that, whore?” Violet remained steady. With a hideous yell, Simon lurched, and Violet struck.

The stake landed dead on. It sunk deep into Simon’s thick neck. Blood sputtered from the wound with every pump of his heart. His eyes were wide, as though what he felt above all else was pure and utter shock. After a vile gurgle, Simon fell to his knees. He was dead before he hit the floorboards.

Violet stood above his body, shaking. Blood spattered against her open shirt and stomach, and sunk deep into her fingers. For a long moment, she was stuck in the horrific realization of what she had done. A man lay dead at her feet, his life taken by her own hand.

Violet felt sick. Thankfully, she had little else other than the stale bread and gravy given to her by the sheriff, so all she could do was spit up in a corner. When the nausea left her, she took a minute to collect her senses. She had killed a man. The reality played on an endless loop in her mind. If there was ever a chance of Violet returning to her unassuming life before the Railwalkers, that chance was long gone.

After settling down, Violet noticed something sticking out of Simon’s belt. A gun. Her gun. The Smith & Wesson Linus had given her way back at the Bone House was settled comfortably in Simon’s holster. She took it back. It formed to her hand perfectly, and Violet was overcome with fearlessness.

It was now or never.

With no option to sneak her way out, Violet threw open the door and stormed down the stairs to the main parlor. The entire room shook at the sight of the brothel’s new whore, splattered with blood and wielding a gun, storming to freedom. Women screamed and men reached for their weapons.

“Don’t nobody move!” Violet thundered. Her grip was steady as a rock. Perhaps Simon’s murder still lingered in her eyes, because the men who first began to rise slowly took their seats. “Any of you yellow-bellied fuckers follow me, you end up like the bastard who thought he could lay a finger on me and live. Do I make myself clear!?” The room shuddered at Violet’s voice.

“Violet.”

Violet whipped around, though she kept her gun on the parlor. Miss Bethany, cautious and wide-eyed, approached her with her hands raised. “Violet,” she repeated, “put the gun down.” She held up her hands, as though to calm a wild animal. “Did that man hurt you? We can talk about this. Let’s just…talk about this.”

From the corner of her eye, Violet saw a man slowly reach for his pistol. Without hesitation, she turned to face him and squeezed the trigger. Bullseye. The would-be assailant flew backwards and broke a chair behind him, howling in pain. A bullet wound now bled from his right shoulder.

“I said.” Violet cocked her barrel loudly and held it right between Miss Bethany’s eyes. “Don’t. Move.”

Miss Bethany held up her hands. Violet looked around her. No one else dared reach for their gun. Without any more time wasted, Violet made her way to the door. But before she could be chased by the entire brothel, Violet fired another shot. This one hit the chandelier. It crashed into the center of the parlor, the oil lamps bursting into flame on the wooden tables. Knowing her time was limited, Violet took off through the doors.

It was dark by now, though the air was still thick with heat. Behind her, chaos erupted as people fled the burning brothel. Violet made a mad dash for the stables behind the sheriff’s station, and found Maple easily. The nag whinnied in excitement as Violet threw open the gate and hopped onto her back. Already she heard shouts and gunfire, most likely directed at her.

“Heya!” Violet thrust her heels into Maple’s ribs, and the pair of them soared off into the night. She chanced a look behind her to see men clambering to their own horses. A few took off in Violet’s direction, shooting manically. Violet wove Maple back and forth along the dry desert, desperately trying to shake them and avoid bullets. Violet tried returning fire, but it was difficult to hit moving targets in the dark. Fortunately, the same was true for them. Eventually, Violet’s six shooter ran out of ammo, and Violet threw everything she could into riding.

Maple ran as fast and as far as her legs could carry them. Hoping to lose the men, Violet rode down into a deep canyon. The ride was treacherous, the terrain uneven and rocky. Violet had to slow Maple to keep her from twisting an ankle. From the echo of the canyon, she heard her pursuers struggle, but move forward. Violet only hoped that the canyon would lead to a split path, and she could shake them for good.

Unfortunately, it led to no path at all. In the dark, Violet had nearly run Maple straight into a wall of rock but managed to stop her horse just in time. Violet scrambled to look for a way out, but there was none. There was only an incline of red rock, which looked next to impossible to climb by herself, let alone on horseback.

“There!” The voice of one of the men shook the canyon, and Violet turned to see the three men’s horses stumble into view. The leader of the three pulled out a long pistol and held it steady. Violet’s heart came to a full halt, and she grabbed Maple’s mane tightly.

Thunk.

The man flailed backward, dropping his gun entirely. A black feathered arrow had pierced his heart, his eyes wide with shocked silence. More arrows whistled through the air, striking the men with extreme precision. The horses bucked, and eventually ran, leaving their dead riders behind in the dust.

Violet gasped for air, staring at the dead men in shock. She looked up behind her. There, atop the incline, was a row of Indian warriors, bows in hand. Violet gaped at them in the moonlight, pulling Maple back enough to see properly.

“Who…?” Her words sputtered as she struggled to voice her awe.

“Violet!” A familiar voice rang out, and Violet straightened.

“Rory!?”

Sure enough, Rory leapt from horseback and nimbly scuttled down the rocky incline. Laughing with relief, Violet dismounted Maple and threw her arms around him. “Rory!” She repeated his name, sobbing in happiness at the sight of her dear friend. Overcome with joy, she overwhelmed him with kisses, babbling about how she feared never seeing him again. Rory, though kept himself quiet, hugged Violet just as hard as she hugged him. After the wave of emotion settled, Violet pulled back to see him properly. “But I don’t understand. How? How did you…?” Her eyes trailed up to a new figure who descended the incline and joined them.

Dressed from head to toe in the clothes of a warrior, Tiger the Apache smiled at them both.

* * * *

Violet had spent the last few hours of darkness in a dreamlike silence. After a rush of adrenaline, anger, and fear, Violet was left buzzing and numb to the world. Tiger, who clearly led his band of Apaches, marched them closer to El Paso, but stopped a few miles out. There, they lingered, watching small lights of life flickering in the distance. It wasn’t hard to piece together their intentions; after all, Rory was with them. No doubt he’d managed to somehow get across their dire situation. And while Violet, normally, would be brimming with questions—how did they find each other? How did they know to go to El Paso? How did Rory manage to communicate, let alone convince them to help?—much of her lacked the energy to voice them.

Violet had killed a man that night. It still didn’t seem real. Violet stared at her stained hands in the darkness, trailing the now black stains on her fingers, and the dirt beneath her nails. Her shirt was also ruined beyond repair, with rips and tears from Simon’s assault, and soaked with the man’s dying blood. Yet for all the horror, Violet herself was not shaken. At least, not in the way she thought she should be. After Munts was killed in front of her, Violet was chilled to her bone, and his intentions mere moments prior had not been unlike those of Simon’s. But while Munts’ murder left her haunted, Simon’s left her calm.

Am I a monster? she wondered. Surely she must be. What human being could take a man’s life and feel nothing? No matter how heinous, a life was still a life. Even with falling in with the Railwalkers considered, this had always been her one and only truth. Evil deserved a fair trial, the same as any, to be judged only by the Lord and the law. Nothing had changed her view on this fact, not even Mei’s love.

But what trial would Simon have? came another thought. What trial would I have? They sold me away like a head of cattle. No lawyer. No judge, no jury, no due process. Guilty for stealin’ my own horse. Anger from before began to light anew within her breast, and she clenched her fists as the thoughts kept rolling in. That goddamned sheriff wasn’t no help. Seemed mighty pleased to be rid of me, in fact. Who’s to say whatever judge they picked wouldn’t feel the same? That’s if I got me a judge in the first place.

And Mei…Her anger softened, replaced only with despair, and a longing for her lover’s arms. Mei, Mei…I’m sorry. Christ, how could I let them do that to ya? Why couldn’t I protect you? You’re always there, watchin’ over me. Keepin’ me safe. And the one time I needed to do the same…Miserable, Violet held her arms and curled into a tight ball.

“Violet…?” Rory’s gentle voice pulled her attention, and she lifted her head from her arms. Rory was knelt before her, gently pressing his hands against her knees. “You all right? They didn’t hurt you none, did they?”

Violet was nearly moved to tears. Reaching out, she pulled Rory into her lap and held him close. “No,” she said. “No, they didn’t hurt me.” Violet gently pet Rory’s ginger hair, the action soothing them both. “One tried though. And I fixed him good.” They sat in silence a moment longer. Violet’s eyes were transfixed on El Paso’s tiny details. “Won’t nobody try that a second time,” she swore, quietly. “Not to me, or you, or any of us.” Her hand fell to the holster on her belt (taken from one of the dead riders from earlier in the night) and her fingers settled on the cold, hard handle of her Smith & Wesson revolver.

No man will ever lay a hand on me again.

They waited in silence after that. Rory had curled up in Violet’s lap to sleep, but she and the Apaches remained vigilant. Steadily, the lights in El Paso began to flicker out. The sky above stretched until the vivid black faded into a dull gray. First light was mere hours off when Tiger gave the order. Keeping Rory in her arms, Violet mounted Maple and followed them towards the town. As they neared it, Violet kept her eyes glued to the horizon, but to her relief, saw no posted watchmen. Even the dogs slept peacefully on the stoops of their houses. Now that she was of clearer mind, Violet wondered what the plan was exactly. She got her answer shortly.

“AIIIIYAA!” With a wild battle cry, Tiger and his band let loose on the sleeping town of El Paso. They flooded the streets, cracking windows and hurling arrows into the night. While Tiger and his Indians overran the town, Violet rode straight for the sheriff’s station. She practically flew off Maple’s back, gun in hand, and kicked open the door.

The Railwalkers were in their cells, just how Violet left them. They bolted up as Violet entered. In the chaos, Linus had opened his mouth to say something, but Violet couldn’t hear him. Just as she stepped in, a bare fist flung itself past Violet’s face, missing her nose by inches. Young Tom, his arm still slung, had taken a wild swing as Violet intruded. Violet thwacked the butt of her pistol into Tom’s temple without hesitation, and down he went like a sack of potatoes. He moaned in pain, dizzy and blinking. Violet spotted the ring of keys on his belt and swiped them. She then gave Tom one last kick in the gut, just for good measure.

Within moments, the Railwalkers were free and hurried to the weapon’s arsenal. Sitting Bear grabbed his shotgun, and Linus retrieved his two Colts. But Mei’s Winchester was nowhere to be found.

“Damned bastard still has it,” she seethed. Now leading the troop, Mei rushed out the front door and into the chaos. The Apaches were making quick work of El Paso. Buildings set alight with wildfire. Women in their nightgowns flooded the streets for safety, looking like a menagerie of scattered ghosts. Tiger’s men, collecting spoils around town, rode fearless and untested. Those who dared shoot at the Apaches were cut down quickly. One gun, however, remained up and firing, and the familiar crack of its bullet caught their attention.

In nothing but a pair of sloppy trousers, Richard stood in the middle of the street, firing on Tiger’s warriors. Mei made a bee-line for Richard and was on him faster than he could turn around. Mei knocked her rifle out of Richard’s hands and, pinning him to his back by her boot, held the loaded gun right between Richard’s eyes.

“Abernathy,” she hissed. “Where is he?”

Richard, sweaty and red faced, spat on Mei’s gun. “Go to hell!”

Bang!

Richard’s left ear went flying as blood sprayed from the bullet wound. He cried out in pain and covered his soiled head.

“I said.” Mei cocked her gun for another shot and aimed it again. “Where is Abernathy?”

Woozy, Richard’s eyes glazed over as he battled for breath. After a moment of silence, he looked to his right. Mei followed his gaze. Just a mile out of town, a stagecoach frantically kicked up dust as it made a hectic escape.

Mei spared no time. She signaled to Sitting Bear, who held his teeth to his lower lip and whistled, sharp and loud. From the stables, the Railwalkers’ horses came barging out, captained by the massive Huī. Violet was quick to mount Maple as the others jumped onto their respective horses. Keeping one arm tight around Rory’s waist, she followed them as they thundered towards the escaping coach.

With Mei at the front, the Railwalkers began to fire. The driver tried to shoot back, but his aim was sloppy, and proved no threat to the oncoming criminals. Eventually, their bullets hit the back wheels of the carriage, and the whole thing spun out of control. The two horses bucked wildly as the coach toppled over in a cloud of red dust. The Railwalkers’ horses hadn’t even come to a full stop when Mei dismounted. She closed the ten feet between her and the carriage with a swift pace, reloading her rifle as she approached. “Abernathy!” she roared. Reaching the door, Mei threw it open and yanked out the man inside.

The sheriff, sweaty, sniveling, and red, stared at the Railwalkers in terror. Mei’s face fell from rage to disgust. She threw the sheriff back into the toppled stagecoach and spun away. Violet and the others exchanged worried glances. Mei stood silently, her back to the wreck. From inside the coach, Violet saw the sheriff creep his way out the door and to safety. He’d barely gotten his upper half out when Mei turned, held her rifle straight, and fired. The sheriff’s head exploded into a thousand meaty pieces, and went flying in every direction. Violet jerked and quickly covered Rory’s eyes, praying that it was too fast for him to process. Headless, the sheriff’s body went limp and swung out over the roof of the coach.

As Mei led them into the distance, the sun began to rise over the decimated town of El Paso.

Chapter 12

The Railwalkers reconvened with Tiger and his Apaches a few miles up the Rio Grande. Their involvement with the rescue, Violet later discovered, was pure luck. After Rory had managed to escape Richard’s men, he’d wandered aimlessly for hours. “I thought I was gonna die for sure,” he said. “It was so hot, and I was so hungry. Buzzards followed me for a few miles, I think.”

“How’d you find Tiger?” Violet asked.

Rory shook his head. “I dunno. I think he mighta found me. I was so tired that I sat down to rest my eyes a little, and when I opened ‘em back up, there was three Apaches lookin’ down on me. They carried me to their camp, and that’s when I saw Tiger.” Rory went on to describe the trouble he had communicating to Tiger that his friends were in trouble. Thankfully, one of Tiger’s men had with him a map of the territory. No doubt stolen from a few wayward travelers or an unfortunate Wells Fargo driver. Rory remembered the town Richard mentioned before he managed to escape, and found it on the map. “I wasn’t sure if I was right or not,” he explained, “but I had to try.”

“Well, I’m sure happy you did,” said Linus with a smile. “Any longer in that pen and we would likely be halfway to Appaloosa in handcuffs.”

“We are in good favor with the world today,” Sitting Bear added, wisely.

“Couldn’t agree more.” Linus straightened his derby and shifted in his saddle. “Though, Violet? You said you managed to get out before Tiger reached El Paso. We heard some commotion at the brothel, but not much else. What happened?”

Violet stiffened, and kept her eyes averted. She replayed Simon’s murder through her mind. Her heart clenched, and she shook it off as best she could. “Just lucky, I guess.” Cautiously, she glanced up at Mei, who hadn’t spoke a word since murdering the escaping sheriff. Her own horrors aside, Violet was aching with questions about Abernathy. Who was he to Mei? What were his real crimes? But for now, Mei needed her space.

“Sweetpea!” Rory’s cry of joy brought her out of her thoughts and she looked ahead. They had reached the riverbank, where Tiger and his Apaches were waiting for them. Among their spoils (flour, whiskey, sugar, meats, etc.), was Rory’s foal, Sweetpea. Rory leapt from Violet’s saddle and charged for his horse. Sweetpea, sensing Rory’s excitement, jumped and bucked in a show of delight. Rory laughed and wrapped his arms around Sweetpea’s neck, burying his face into her mane. After a brief, tender moment, Sweetpea pushed Rory onto his behind and sat herself on his tiny legs. It took two Apaches to pull him out from under her.

Dismounting Maple, Violet approached the Apaches. Tiger caught sight of her and stood, flashing her a warm smile. “I wish I knew how to thank you,” she said, hands on her hips. Her eyes skimmed the Apaches’ haul. “Though I guess this was good for both of us.”

Tiger said something Violet couldn’t make out. He then put his hand to his chest, almost in a gesture of solidarity. Not knowing what else to do, Violet mimicked it. Tiger smiled wider and turned back to his warriors.

There wasn’t much time to celebrate. Who knew how long it would be until the men of El Paso came looking for retribution? Tiger gifted the Railwalkers small portions of their take, and after that, the two groups parted ways. The Apaches headed east, and the Railwalkers started north. They followed the river a good ways until sundown, and made camp for the evening. Their supplies were replenished by the Apaches, but what they had before was all but depleted by Richard and his men. If they were to survive until Carson City, they’d need to hunt or trade the minute they could. As they walked the river, Rory was able to construct a fishing net, and Linus and Sitting Bear gathered cactus and wild game to keep them supplied. They stayed well outside the perimeter of any major town, just on the off chance a few new wanted posters were floating about the Mexico/Texas border. And as the days passed, Violet had kept both her guilt and her curiosity to herself.

One evening, the boys made camp in the last hour of daylight near a wide mouth of the river. Mei and Violet decided to scout ahead and see if there were any towns safe enough to step foot in. Mei figured that the smaller the settlement, the better their chances to keep a low profile. With the last rays of sun at their backs, they rode slowly over a bend and scanned the horizon.

“That might be something.” Mei gestured to a small town about ten miles west of them. Violet strained her eyes, but from what she could tell, the town was nothing more than a few shacks and a watering hole.

“Think you might be right,” Violet agreed. “Should we head there in the morning?”

Mei nodded. She slipped off Huī and motioned for Violet to do the same. “Let’s give ‘em a break on the way back,” she said. As they walked, Mei went to roll a cigarette, only to find she was at the last of her tobacco. She tsked in irritation. “Hopefully they got cigarette fixin’s worth a damn.” She wet the edge of her paper and rolled up the last of her stash. Pinching the end between her teeth, Mei held up the silver lion lighter and burned the tip. She paused, shielding the fire from the gentle breeze that threatened to blow it out.

Violet watched her in silence. This was their first moment truly alone since the Bone House. No doubt Mei could sense her busy mind. As she lowered her cigarette, Mei addressed her expectantly. “You’ve been crawling out of your skin for days now,” she said. “Spit it out.”

Violet hesitated. “It’s about Abernathy.” She eyed Mei’s reaction carefully, but Mei was as cool as ever. “What did he do?”

“I toldjya,” said Mei. “He works his employees till their dying breath—”

“No, I mean, what did he do to you?”

Mei took a deep drag of her cigarette. Blowing out the smoke, she stared up into the stars. Violet was reminded vividly of the time she’d asked about Mei’s mother. “He made me,” she said. “Made me who I am. This outlaw. A murderer.” Violet’s heart twisted, but she kept quiet, giving Mei room to finish her story.

“My parents left for the new world the day they got married. Found themselves in Nevada, and had me. There was talk of a new life in the west. Nothing short of the Promised Land. Well, my father, he didn’t speak much English. But there was opportunity for Chinamen, right there on the Pacific coast.” Her cigarette between two fingers, she pointed out to the horizon. “The railroad. They were taking in all manner of workers from the east, along with slaves and free men, criminals and vagabonds alike. Papa found community with the other workers, and my mother raised me in a little wagon, just barely big enough for the three of us. My father worked day in, day out. Boiling heat, little pay, wretched food. Men around us dropped like flies. But I never saw him hesitate. I remember him coming home from a day’s work, drained, beat down, barely standing, but smiling. He told me once, when I was very little, that his smile was my mother’s pay for her work.” Mei flashed a tepid smile of her own, but it faded just as soon as it had come.

“I was ten years old. I remember it, right down to the day. Papa was finishing a job with the other workers. The foreman promised everyone a hearty bonus for finishing before the deadline. He spent weeks talking about it. And then, just a few days before the railroad was complete, the heat got the best of him. He died, right there, on the tracks. The foreman kicked him aside, and the work continued. He rotted out there in the sun. No one was allowed to rush back and tell us. We didn’t find out until the men returned home, without him. My mother was in shambles. And when she asked for the rest of my father’s pay? The foreman ignored her. Mocked her. He repossessed the only home I’d ever known, and turned us out with only two dollars between us.

“Ma didn’t last the winter. She starved to make sure I ate. Tried to keep me smiling, but her mind was all but gone. We tried finding hospitality with nearby towns. Some white folks took us in as servants. One way or another, every time, we were out on our own before too long. Most white women just don’t trust some ‘sticky-fingered slant-eye’ around their precious pearls. We were sleeping in a loft in an abandoned farmhouse when I woke up to find her dead. She froze from the cold.”

Mei took another drag. Violet’s stomach had fallen into a deep pit as she listened. Her eyes threatened tears, but she refused to fall apart in front of Mei. Strong, beautiful, resilient Mei. She had gone through the worst Hell had to offer and made it out the other side, tough as steel. Violet couldn’t imagine the stamina she needed to survive. Though her voice wavered, Violet spoke again.

“And Abernathy…?” she asked quietly.

Mei wet her fingers and put out the cherry of her cigarette. Pocketing it for later, Mei took the reins of Huī, and they continued to walk. “Well…Mr. Jacob Abernathy DeWitt managed to get himself promoted not long after my papa died. Before he was an executive, he was a foreman. He was my papa’s foreman, as a matter of fact. He was a hard driver. Way I hear tell, he was promoted due to how impressive his turnout was. How fast his men worked.” Mei’s jaw tightened. “No thought to the men who worked themselves to death beneath him. No thought whatsoever. No thought to my papa, who died of thirst at his feet. I doubt he even remembers the day himself. Except for the fact that they were able to finish their work a month ahead of schedule. Got him sitting real pretty with his higher ups, I reckon. Pretty soon, he managed to buy the whole damn railroad for pennies on the dollar.” Her eyes focused on the trail, Mei furrowed her brow into a tight glare. “He’s nothing short of a monster. And the next time I see him, it’ll be with a bullet between his eyes.”

They walked the rest of their path in silence. Just as the boys’ campfire came into view, Violet reached over and took Mei’s hand. She squeezed it, hoping that simple gesture could say more than her sloppy words ever could.

Without a glance, Mei squeezed back.

* * * *

It was raining when the Railwalkers came across the threshold of their nameless town. Slick mud and hot water clung to Violet’s legs as they trudged through the summer soak. From afar, Violet had guessed that this town had no more than fifty people to it. Upon closer inspection, Violet realized that such a guess had been generous. The town itself was less of a town, and more of a shambled collection of ramshackle cabins and crooked tin stoops. At the front of the town sat a creaky wooden home, guarded by a lazy bloodhound. An old prospector sat in a rocking chair beside his hound, barely shielded from the rain by his leaky awning. The prospector eyed the Railwalkers closely, but other than that, paid them no mind. Violet was thankful for the lack of conversation, and they soldiered further, looking for some manner of trading post or boarding house.

There were a few communal structures around the center. A well and a rusty bucket. A shared stable for a couple graying mules. A school house, boarded and abandoned, sat before a tiny, one-room church and a boot hill of gravestones. Just as the Railwalkers walked their horses further in, Violet caught sight of an oil lamp, a few paces to their left. The biggest structure (though that wasn’t saying much) was a rusty old saloon on the cusp of the town’s perimeter. It was their best option.

After tying off their horses, Mei led the others into the dry belly of the saloon. There was a small bar and a row of old liquor bottles, a few rotting wood tables, and an upstairs with one—maybe two—rooms for travelers. The woman behind the bar wore a rough expression. Her eyes were perpetually wrinkled; she seemed to squint due to failing eyesight. Though there was gray in her hair, Violet guessed she wasn’t nearly as old as she looked. Off in the corner sat her only patron: a greasy boozer, missing a few front teeth with sickly yellow eyes. The bartender put down her rag and put a hand on her wide hip.

“Can I help you folks?” she asked.

Mei glanced at Linus. There was a moment’s hesitation. If Violet had to guess, it was to assess the safety of their new surroundings. When Linus nodded, Mei turned back to the bartender and removed her sopping wet hat.

“Just a few travelers in need of supplies, ma’am,” she said politely. “Mind if we stop in?”

The bartender snorted. “Shit, I ain’t had nobody outside ten miles in five years. Come on in, dry your feet.” She went to a stone hearth and fixed a tiny fire in the pile of ashes. Then, she pulled a few chairs around the fireplace, offering them a place to sit. It wasn’t much, but after El Paso, the gesture was next to godly.

The Railwalkers thanked the bartender in turn and went to take their seats. They hung up their wet coats and took off their soaking boots. The bartender poured them some whiskey, and they relaxed, warming their toes by the fire.

“The name’s Sherri,” the bartender introduced. “Where are y’all headed?”

“Up north,” said Mei.

“Really? Where north?”

“Nevada.”

“Mm.” Sherri nodded wisely. “More work up there?”

“You could say that.”

“Most folk are headed to California these days. Get their hands on a bit of that gold, I hear.” Sherri spotted Rory, who sat directly in front of the fire and shook out his mane of wild red hair. “I think that one could do for a nice glass of warm milk.”

Rory piped up. “Oh yes’m, I’d like that very much!”

Sherri chuckled. “All right. You just wait right there.” Wiping her hands on her apron, Sherri went through the door behind the bar and vanished into the kitchen. When she returned, she had with her a small mug of lukewarm milk, and a half-empty bottle of whiskey. “Think I can run you folks a tab?” she asked.

Mei nodded. “That’s fine. We’d take a room, too, if you got ‘em.”

“There’s two upstairs. Third one’s mine, so you won’t have no problem finding them.”

“Thank you. We’ll take them both.”

After divvying up the whiskey and milk, Sherri rested the tray on her hip and looked the Railwalkers over with curiosity. “If you pardon my say so, you folks are just about the strangest group of people I seen together.”

Linus chuckled, and leaned against his seat, glass of whiskey in hand. “We hope that won’t bother you, Miss Sherri.”

Sherri shook her head. “No, sir. I can’t say that it does.”

The Railwalkers smiled at each other. Sherri looked between them, a little confused. Mei turned to her, and held her glass up in a toast. “You don’t know how glad we are to hear that. Cheers.” She downed her whiskey, and the others followed suit.

Dinner was nothing special. Sherri had a pot of old stew she’d been slow cooking in the kitchen. There was just enough to split between the lot of them. Sherri’s patron, who had yet to be named, kept his distance, and soon fell asleep at one of the tables. In their night with Sherri, they learned that the town they resided in was once a bustling miner’s camp. Hundreds of men, flowing from one side of the country to the next, stopped in to water, eat, and sleep. Some stayed. Some died. But within ten years, the mines dried up, and all that was left of the ramshackle town was Sherri and a handful of old timers too stubborn to pack up.

“So I hope you folks don’t have it in mind to try and dig up gold yourselves.” Sherri had taken a chair with the Railwalkers, and fit in comfortably with the group. “Sorry to say most of that work’s been picked up by fellas older and meaner than you fine people. So best not to keep your hopes too high.” By now, Rory was snoozing in front of the fire, and Sitting Bear wasn’t far behind. There were no working clocks, but they’d been talking for hours now, and Violet felt that it was well into the night. The rain, she noticed, had stopped at some point outside. She was hard pressed to remember when.

Mei, on her third glass of whiskey, shook her head. “No, ma’am. I don’t think I’d be good panning rivers anyhow.”

“Hm.” Sherri rubbed her chin in thought. “That right? Tell me, Miss Mei. What is it ya’ll do do?”

Mei finished her whiskey and set the empty glass down. “Contract work,” she said. “Odd jobs, here and there. Nothing special.” Before Sherri could ask any more questions, Mei stood, signaling the end of their talk. “I think we better call it a night. But you’ve been mighty kind, Miss Sherri.”

“Of course, of course.” Sherri stood and flattened her apron, almost out of habit. “Y’all get some sleep. I’ll make a big breakfast before you head out again.” With a final goodnight, they headed upstairs.

The rooms were little more than a few square feet with some hay stuffed beds. The roof leaked, and the wood floors were rotting with age. As per usual, the boys took one room, and Violet and Mei took the second. The creaky springs groaned as Violet laid flat along the mattress, but it was heaven compared to the hard ground. Violet stretched, hearing a few bones crack.

“Enjoy it,” Mei told her. “This trip is the last bit of money we have.”

They laid in silence a few moments. Violet watched the smoke curl up to the ceiling, like velvet rope. She raised her fingers and let them twirl in the ashy ribbon. “Somethin’ happened at El Paso,” she said, almost without thinking.

“Oh?” Mei took another drag.

Violet laid her hand flat and continued to stare at the ceiling. “I killed that big one. Simon?”

Mei stopped. She sat up and blew her smoke to the side. Her last cigarette now down to the nub, she squished it onto the bedside table. “What happened?” she asked.

Violet sat up, too. Unable to meet Mei’s eyes, she took her ankles and stared out the rainy window. “They took me to a whore house. Told me I had to work off five hundred dollars before I could go free, or I get sent off to New York. I got put in a little room and Simon—he was the big, ugly one of Richard’s fellas; the one who wouldn’t stop talking—he’d been waiting for me, I guess. I didn’t want that man’s hands on me, no way no how. So I was just meaning to fight him off. Maybe startle him some, but we scuffled real hard.” Violet realized just then how quick her heart was beating, and how sick her stomach felt. She pressed on, unable to stop. “He knocked off one of the bed knobs. A real sturdy wooden one, you know? It made, well, almost like a spit. A real sharp point at the break. I grabbed it, and as he come at me, I just—” Finally, Violet stopped. Her hands were in front of her, mimicking the thrust of her wooden stake. She almost felt the warm blood of Simon’s neck still on her fingers. She must have been holding her hands up longer than she realized, because before long, Mei had gently taken them with her own. Violet looked at her, suddenly fearful. Escaping had forced her to conserve her energy; push away the horror until she was able to process it. Now, in the privacy of closed doors, Violet began to crumble.

“I didn’t mean to…” she whimpered. “I really didn’t, you know. I mean I-I guess it was best if I had. He was ready to kill me right then and there, but still I…” She shut her eyes tightly, trying to block out the image. But Simon’s dead body continued to haunt her memory. “And he had my gun, too. I saw it after he died. The gun that Linus gave me back at Bone House. He took everything from me—from us. And there wasn’t no judge in the land that would see my justice. I just wanted—I just wanted his…his hands to stop…I just wanted him to stop…” Violet spiraled endlessly after that. Her words tumbled over each other, trying to get out, and became senseless babble in the process. Soon, that babble became blubbering, and before Violet knew it, she was curled into Mei’s arms, crying desperately against her breast.

Mei held her through the night. She said very little, for which Violet was thankful. Violet didn’t need words of wisdom. She didn’t need Mei to tell her if what she did was right or otherwise. All she needed, desperately, was catharsis and comfort. They laid together, Violet sobbing over the wretched man whose life she took. It was more than he deserved. When her tears dried, Violet was exhausted, but too restless to sleep. Since the rain was done, Mei opened the window, letting in a cool breeze. Hours ticked on. Even in the dark, Violet could tell that Mei hadn’t fallen asleep either.

“Ain’t you gonna say something?” she finally asked.

Mei, laying on her side, shifted in the darkness. Their eyes met, and Mei’s beautiful black gaze twinkled in the moonlight. “What should I say?” Her voice was kind, and her fingers gently pet Violet’s short hair, mindlessly.

“Do you feel like this? Every time?” Violet rubbed her tired face and laid on her back. “How does it get any easier?”

Mei sat up on her elbow. “To be honest?” she said. “It doesn’t. Not if you keep thinking this way.”

“What way?”

“With guilt.” Mei laced their fingers together. “You killed a man. From the moment we met, I wanted to do nothing but keep you from ever having to do somethin’ so heinous. I wanted to protect you from it. Teach you to fight, to defend, that’s all fine and good, but to have blood on your hands?” She shook her head. “It weighs on you if you let it.”

“So how do you not?” Violet rolled back over to face her. “How do you keep yourself from thinkin’ that way?”

“You take yourself out of the picture.” Violet screwed up her face in confusion, and so Mei elaborated. “You’re focused on what happened that night. Between you and him. But it ain’t just between you two. It never is.”

“I don’t follow…”

“Imagine how many girls that man had put his hand to,” Mei said. “Imagine how many innocent lives he and his posse ruined. Those boys weren’t no amateurs. That means that some poor souls before us paid this price and then some. You think that man lived a good, Christian life, and only now decided to force himself on a woman? No, ma’am. He ended up at the sharp end of your stick cause he put himself there. And by his death, there won’t be another innocent person he preys on till the end of time. That’s how you manage it, Vi. Not everyone can do the dirty work. That’s what we’re here for. If there is a Hell, damned if we’re not destined for it. But we take that sin in stride, because with it, we erase just a little bit of suffering from the world. And I can be satisfied with that, I think.”

Mei leaned down and gave Violet a gentle, calming kiss. “Now…I paid for this bed with my last damn nickel. I suggest we get some sleep.” With a weary smile, Violet curled up into Mei’s side, closed her eyes, and let her fatigue finally take her away.

In the morning, Sherri made them a hot breakfast of eggs and questionable ham, and the Railwalkers thanked her sincerely. She seemed taken with their gratitude, and told them that they were welcome back any time they found themselves in her backyard. As they left, Violet couldn’t help but be grateful that there were still people like Sherri in the world.

The next few weeks were a haze. After leaving Sherri with their last dollar, the Railwalkers took what they could and saddled up for Nevada. The nights on the prairie seemed endless. They rationed their coffee and sugar and butter for as long as they could, but eventually, all they had to drink was river water. At the split of a pair of twin mountain ridges, they diverted off the Rio Grande and headed northwest between the two. From there, the paths were treacherous, and the Railwalkers often went on foot to spare the horses extra burden. As their food ran low, they took to hunting; mostly small game, thanks to Rory’s traps, until Sitting Bear returned to camp with a massive buck that lasted them for a solid week. The hides they were left with were skinned and tanned, and soon piled on the back of Dove’s haunches for selling. Fortunately, it wasn’t long before they came upon a small outpost prime for trading. Taking advantage of their reprieve, Sitting Bear handled the transaction, while Mei and Linus bartered for goods. Violet, leaving Rory to watch the horses, went with an empty bucket to the water well. There was a gentleman there, perhaps well into his forties, with a sweat stained hat and rolled-up sleeves. She waited patiently as he hauled up his water, and when his bucket emerged, he quickly removed it from the hook and handed it off to Violet.

“Here you are, ma’am,” he said.

“Thank you.” Violet hooked her bucket and sent it down to the water. “Amazing what you take for granted when you don’t got the necessaries at hand.”

“I s’pose so.” The man wiped his forehead, revealing hard-earned wrinkles beneath his eyes. “Where’re you from, miss?”

“Down south,” Violet said politely. “Heading west. How about yourself?”

“Came down from the Rockies, m’self.” He put his thumbs through his belt loops and rested against the well wall. Thought I might do better in warmer climate.”

“Are you?”

He shook his head. “Not s’far.”

“Violet.”

Mei, accompanied by Linus and Sitting Bear carrying sacks of new supplies, approached Violet with a hand on her hip. “We’re thinking of making camp here tonight. Sound fine by you?”

Violet nodded. She turned back to the man at the well to ask his name, but the man had gone stiff. His eyes were transfixed on Mei and her posse, but it was not with the usual outright disgust of most white men when they saw colored folk. This was different, and Violet noticed it immediately. There was fear in his eyes, and Violet was keenly aware that this man might have seen their faces before.

She whipped back around to her friends and spoke hastily. “On second thought, I think we can make good progress if we set out now. Get a move on while we still got daylight.” Hoisting her water bucket from the well, she rushed to leave the man’s side, but was stopped by his cautious voice.

“Where…did you folks say you was headin’?”

Violet’s heart pounded in her ears. With as much of a smile as she could muster, she responded, “Just west, sir. ‘Scuse us now.” The four of them returned to the horses, all the while, Violet’s neck burned with worry and warning.

Once they set off, Violet’s anxiety did not ease. On top of worrying over whether or not the man had recognized the Railwalkers, the weather had taken a turn for the worse. Winds picked up, and a thunderous storm began to curl out overhead. Before long, they were caught up in whipping rain with no shelter in sight. They pressed on, bracing themselves against the storm. The water lashed at their skin, leaving Violet raw and sore. But luck seemed to be at play just a little, as Rory was the first to spot a lone cabin a mile on the horizon. Coming closer, Violet was pleased to see that it was abandoned, and the Railwalkers worked quickly to cover the horses and head inside.

It was a dingy, dusty place, with dried herbs hanging along the ceiling so old they crumbled at the slightest touch. It was safe to say, upon further inspection, that whoever owned the place was either dead or had moved on years prior. There was a small cluster of rotted wood near the ashen hearth, and they did best to make do with a tiny fire and a pot of beans.

“I’m worried,” Violet admitted during supper.

“About the man at the outpost?” Mei asked.

Violet nodded. “He looked like he knew you.”

“Probably did,” Linus said. “But it doesn’t make a difference now. For all he knows we could be halfway to California. So long as you didn’t tell him where we were heading.”

“Of course not,” said Violet. “I didn’t know if we could trust him.”

Linus smiled and held up his canteen of water in a toast. “Then we got nothing to fret about.”

Deep down, Violet wanted to argue, but knew better than to doubt Linus’s wisdom. Twisting herself up for no good reason was no help to anybody. So, pushing away the doubt in her gut, she curled up on the floor while her outer clothes dried, and listened to the storm rage outside.

* * * *

“There she is,” said Mei. “Finally.”

Carson City Nevada wasn’t much different from some of the other big towns on their trail. Perched on a patch of flat, muddy land, the wide streets were combed over with wagon wheel tracks, leading from the drug store to the schoolhouse. It was early in the afternoon, and women were out with their children with shopping baskets and bonnets. Men sat on porches, eating lunch while their work horses drank from community troughs. The only distinct structure Violet noticed off-hand was a bulky center building which read “Casino” in big, bright letters. This just so happened to be their destination.

“It’s the only building with a wire,” Mei explained, leading them through the front doors. After a shift in light, Violet’s eyes adapted, and she scanned the area. It was a wide floor, packed to the brim with little tables hosting cards, dice, and a strange spinning wheel with a handle directly in the center. A bar sat off to the side, with a cellar door behind it. Men, some of whom, Violet guessed, might have been there all night, sat around tables, playing with brightly colored, wooden chips. Some men hoarded chips like fat, scaly dragons, while others clutched onto the one or two pieces they had left as though they were their life’s blood. One table in particular caught her eye. It was a game she recognized: Blackjack. A dealer stood at the head of the table, and dealt cards to the four men in front of him. Violet remembered what her mother always told her about card games.

“The devil works his way into every hand,” she would say. “Gambling is for drunks and whores, and is not befitting for a young woman of standing.”

“Room for one more?”

The men turned to Violet as she eagerly approached the empty fifth chair. They glanced at each other, some with obvious humor. The dealer, pausing his game, put on a polite smile. “Of course,” he said. “The buy in is ten dollars.”

Violet paled. “Ten?” Even after the Railwalkers got paid, she couldn’t imagine asking for so much. Disappointed, she inched away. “Maybe not then. Sorry to interrupt your game, fellas.”

But one of the men, a beefy, bearded fellow with glittering eyes, put a small stack of chips next to the empty chair. Violet noticed that he had the most to spare. “Come on in, little lady. My treat.”

Delighted, Violet took her seat and examined her chips. Two red five tokens and a blue ten, adding up to twenty. She laid her blue token in the pot, and the dealer gave her her hand. She checked her cards. A facedown two of diamonds and a showing six of spades. Hardly an ideal starter, but plenty of room to play. With the cards dealt and the pot full, the dealer began to go down the line.

The first man hit. His showing five received a match, and he decided to stay at ten. The second man stayed with a nine showing. The third hit twice, but bust with a queen. The fourth, Violet’s benefactor, hit on a seven of clubs. The dealer gave him a three, and after a moment’s thought, he stayed. Finally, the dealer rounded to Violet.

“Hit or stay, miss?”

“Hit, please.”

The dealer gave her a ten of hearts. Eighteen was a decent number. Violet hesitated and scanned the table. With two tens and a nine showing against her, it was likely that at least one of the other men had something higher. Hoping that luck was on her side, Violet hit again.

The dealer laid down a jack. Violet sighed and flipped over her hidden card. “Dammit,” she swore with a smile. “Shoulda listened to myself…”

The bearded man chuckled and flipped over his own king. A solid twenty. “Perhaps,” he said, “but you still got enough for another game. You’re not out yet, are ya, missy?” The other two men flipped their cards, as well as the dealer, but no one beat Violet’s new friend. He took the pot with poise, and the dealer began anew.

Violet’s hand was a two of diamonds and a three of clubs. Fortunately, the other players had fairly weak hands themselves. Player one bust on his first hit, and player two stayed, but in an effort to not tempt his luck. Player three stayed as well, and Violet’s neighbor hit to a twelve, and played it safe. Violet, her eyes on those last two chips in the pot, said:

“Hit me.” The dealer gave her a five of hearts. Ten. She needed to go higher. “Hit.” The dealer turned over the next card. A jack of diamonds. A nice, round twenty. Violet would be wise to stay; it would most likely be an easy win. But the next card was too tempting. There could only be one answer, and if it was what she needed…

“Hit.”

The dealer gave her a wary glance, and then flipped over the next card. An ace of spades. Gleeful, Violet flipped over her hand. “Twenty-one!” The table groaned, and each player revealed their cards. None came close to Violet’s win, and she eagerly roped in the pot for herself. At a glance, Violet guessed that she won sixty dollars or more. Siphoning two $10 chips, she handed them off to the bearded man. “Here you go, friend. That ends my loan.”

The man chuckled, and took the twenty back with a nod. “Much obliged. New hand?”

The game lasted for some time. Violet realized with delight that she was rather good at Blackjack. Perhaps it was a streak of beginner’s luck, or she’d found a rhythm with the cards. Either way, for every dollar Violet lost, she earned back three. Soon, a few other players grew disgruntled, and left the table to cash in their chips. By the end, only she, the bearded man, and the first player were left at the table.

As the dealer shuffled, a tiny hand tugged on Violet’s sleeve. She smiled down at Rory, who was enjoying a piece of brown sugar candy. “Mei’s all done whenever you’re ready to go.” Violet looked up to see Mei, Linus, and Sitting Bear speaking lowly to a bartender. Linus had a secure parcel under his arm. “Mei said to tell you that you can play as much as you want though.”

Violet laughed. “I won’t be long. Tell her to give me a few more hands, and then supper’s on me.” Rory let out a happy whoop and rushed off to deliver the others the news. Mei and Violet caught eyes, and exchanged smiles.

“You know,” said the bearded man, “we’ve been playing near an hour now and I’m afraid I haven’t introduced myself.” He looked at his new hand casually. “You can call me Hearst.”

“Very well, Mr. Hearst. My name is Violet. It’s a pleasure.”

Mr. Hearst beamed, and tossed a few chips into the pot. “It takes a keen sense of instinct to gamble the way you do, Miss Violet. Or are you just lucky?”

Violet chuckled and added two chips herself. “Not sure, really. Maybe both?”

“Mm.” The dealer went around the table, and Hearst decided to stay. “And your friends there? Are they the gambling sort?”

“Oh…” Violet glanced at her cards again, and hit. She stayed afterwards. “Not sure. We play dice or cards sometimes, but nothing with money. I can’t say.”

The dealer flipped his cards, as did the players. It was Mr. Hearst’s game and the next round began. “Well…I would wager they’re natural gamblers.”

“What makes you say so?”

“Because.” Mr. Hearst shifted his coat, revealing a US Marshal’s badge. Violet’s heart froze in her chest, and while Mr. Hearst remained still, his eyes danced in the oil lamplight around them. “Walking into a crowded town with the woman they kidnapped? A mighty wager indeed.”

“Kidnapped…?” Violet breathed.

“Yes, ma’am.” Mr. Hearst laid his coat back down. “Sheriff Anderson told me himself how they snatched you up back in Little Rock. He saw the whole thing. Now.” He lowered his voice and put his hand on Violet’s cards. “You keep calm, Miss Donovan, and I promise to get you back home, safe and sound. There’s a warrant out for the murder of Mr. Charles Munts back in Redrock with your friend’s name on it. Not to mention, bounty for the Railwalkers has only gotten bigger these days.

“You’re safe now, Miss Donovan. My men have the casino surrounded.”

Violet trembled. The world around her was as slow as pouring molasses. The sounds of the casino blended into a storm of noise and confusion. Violet turned back to the Railwalkers. They were together, laughing, drinking, enjoying their peace. Soon, bullets would fly through the walls, they would be dead on the ground. Gone forever. She could almost see Rory’s lifeless body on the floorboards, or Linus, or Sitting Bear. Or Mei…

Without a second thought, Violet pulled out her gun and whacked Mr. Hearst across the face with the butt. The room flew back in shock, and Violet leapt to her feet. She shouted only one thing:

“Marshal!”

Chaos followed. With little time to act, the Railwalkers jumped behind the bar, and Violet slid out of sight alongside them. Mr. Hearst, red with rage, burst to his feet and fired at her heels, missing her by a hair’s breadth. From the front doors, men burst forth, guns cocked and ready. The patrons, some frantically gathering chips, rushed out of danger. Thus began the fire fight. The marshal’s men took one side of the room, while the Railwalkers kept safe behind their bar. Reloading between shots, Mei turned to Violet sharply.

“The cellar. Take Rory. Keep him safe.” Gunfire hit the top of the bar, shattering glass bottles and showering them with liquor. Heart pounding, Violet nodded, and they kissed; quickly, harshly, desperately. Violet took Rory’s hand and, keeping low to the ground, led him to the cellar door and rushed him into the dark.

Violet led Rory down the stairs and spotted a few hearty pickle barrels in the corner. “Here, Rory!” She crouched him behind the barrels and knelt. “No matter what you hear, no matter what happens, you don’t come out unless one of us comes for you. Understood?”

“Y-yes—”

Violet hugged him tightly and kissed his forehead. “It’ll be all right. Don’t be scared.”

More gunfire rocked the world above them. Making sure her revolver was loaded, Violet raced back into the fight and rolled back to Mei’s side.

“I told you to watch Rory!” she barked, shooting over the bar.

“He’s safe! I’m not leaving you!”

“Duck!” Linus shouted.

They all flattened as a nasty cloud of buckshot smashed the edge of the bar. Their cover was getting weaker by the minute. Violet sat up and looked around. The liquor bottles were all damaged, so a repeat of the escape like back in Van Buren was unlikely. She turned to the others in dismay. That’s when she spotted the floorboards.

“Hold fire!” Mr. Hearst called out to his men, and the gunfire settled. There was a heavy pause. “Mei Wong and Linus Cooper! You, and the savage known as Sitting Bear, are all under arrest, as ordered by the United States of America!”

Violet lowered her voice, and spoke quickly. “I got an idea. Hand me your rifle. Quick.” Mei gave Violet her Winchester, and Violet made sure it was properly loaded. “Keep him talking.” Silent and swift, Violet went back into the cellar, closing the door behind her. As she hurried, she heard Mr. Hearst continue to shout up above.

“Now if y’all wanna do this the hard way, we got no problems shooting you in the streets like the dogs you are. But if you hand over your guns, and come along quietly, you’re in for a fair trial and a quick hanging.”

Violet kept her eyes on the floorboards above her, and quickly assessed that her hunch was right; the floor beneath the lawmen’s feet was thin, with plenty of gaps between each plank of wood. She spotted Rory and held a finger to her lips, keeping him quiet. She then covered her own eyes, and urged Rory to do the same. Curling into a ball, he covered his ears and shut his eyes tightly. Violet, tracking the shadows of the lawmen, readied her shot.

“Y’all got the wrong men!” Mei shouted. “We’re fur traders from down south! God’s truth!”

“Ha! Even if you weren’t the folks we was lookin’ for, you really think we’d believe a no good, slant-eyed, lyin’ chi—?!”

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Violet fired off rounds one by one, shooting straight up the lawmen’s legs. The deputies cried out in shock and pain, several of them collapsing. The Railwalkers took their cue and opened fire. The smoke rivaled that of a dust storm. Men fell to the hard floor like slabs of meat off a bled cow. They tried firing back, but Violet’s surprise was all it took for the Railwalkers to gain the upper hand. After a few more shots, Violet ran out of ammo, and pretty soon, the gunfire stopped all together. Violet knelt by Rory and put a hand on his head. “Come here, Rory.” She embraced him tightly and stood. “Promise me you’ll keep your eyes closed till I say so.” Rory nodded, and closed his eyes again.

When she emerged from the cellar, the casino was the scene of a massacre. Men lay dead in heaps, pooled in blood. There were six of them all together. A mangled pile of dead men, their fingers still twitching. Her chest was icy, but she pushed forward. With every step, blood clung to her boots, the stench of which latched onto her shirt and coat. She kept her eyes from the corpses as much as possible, focused only on the entrance doors and to freedom.

Upon stepping out into the world, the Railwalkers were met with a crowd of horrified onlookers. Some hinted at the guns on their belt, but none of them dared to fire on the murderers of an entire posse of lawmen. Mei, her hat tipped downward, led the others to their horses. They mounted, and with the whole town in silence, the Railwalkers made their exit.

The hours’ ride after Carson was in total silence. The sky above, thick with gray clouds, threatened rain, but never broke. Violet didn’t bother to keep track of where they were headed. Anywhere was better than what they left. When the sun finally set, they found a place to camp and cook their supper, though truth be told, none seemed to have an appetite.

Violet, curled into a ball, stared at the others expectantly. No one met her gaze; no one dared. Violet’s stomach churned and she closed her eyes. She tried desperately to push the image out of her mind. The sight of men, alive merely seconds before, brought to their end in a hailstorm of bullets. She could still smell it. The gunpowder, the blood, the sweat, the dust of the wood. All of it still burned brightly in her mind, no matter how hard she pushed.

Sitting Bear laid a tin plate at her feet. “Eat,” he said. Violet looked at her meal. It was their remaining beans, a bit of corn meal, and what was left of their venison. Violet slowly pushed it aside. Sitting Bear pushed it back. “Eat,” he repeated.

“I ain’t hungry.”

Linus, who was slow to eat as well, set his plate aside and dusted off his hands. “Vi,” he said gently, “you can’t dwell on it. You’ll lose yourself all together.” Violet curled her arms around her knees, and balled herself tighter. “We didn’t have a choice. If it weren’t for you, we’d be the ones dead.”

“That don’t make me feel better.”

“Violet.” Mei’s voice was quiet, but firm, and she waited until Violet looked up from her arms. “It was us or them. That’s what it came down to. They were—”

“Don’t tell me they deserved that.” Silence stung the air. “This weren’t like Munts or Simon, or any of them evil men. These were just men. They didn’t do nothing to deserve that.”

“Violet.”

“They were doin’ their jobs. Just men following the law, trying to do what was right by them. They didn’t force no woman or hurt no children.”

“You don’t know that they didn’t.”

“And you don’t know that they did!” Violet spoke quickly, and her whole body grew hot with shame. “I never shoulda come up on them like that! We shoulda found a way out! We mighta been able to trick ‘em or—or—”

“There was no way out, Violet. We were trapped like rats. If you gave those men the chance, they’d have killed us with no regret.”

“Well maybe they shoulda!” Violet stood, her whole body shaking violently. Tears blurred her eyes, and she wiped them with furious swipes. “What’s the point of tryin’ to do good by killin’ the bad folk if the good folk get caught up in it?! Don’t that make us just as bad!?”

“Of course not—”

“How can you say that like you know!? How can you look at what we did today and live with yourself?!” Violet gripped her head, dizzy with anger. “Those men had lives, families. How can you see what we did, what I did, and not feel like a monster? Cause that’s what we are, ain’t it? We gunned down innocent men to save our own skins, and it ain’t like back in El Paso. Hearst knew who you was. Who I was. Y’all travel around, you take lives, you tell yourselves it’s all for the best. That we’re serving justice for people who don’t get it otherwise. But what happens when that murder serves no one but yourselves? What then, Mei? What do you tell yourself then?” Violet didn’t wait for an answer. Grabbing her coat, she stormed off into the darkness, wanting nothing more than to be alone with her thoughts. Maple, out of instinct, followed her.

Violet paid no attention to where she went, and instead put blind faith in her feet. Her tears were ugly, and she wiped them over and over, but they never relented. She didn’t want to think, or feel, or remember the blood on her hands. She just wanted to walk, until her feet bled and her legs gave out, and she could fall into the embrace of the end.

Something splashed on her boot, and Violet looked down. She’d come to a pond, and when she stopped walking, Violet realized just how sore her feet felt. Maple, who loyally followed every footstep, nudged her shoulder. Violet hugged her tightly, finding comfort in the smell of her mane. She collapsed to the ground and stared out into the water. Drained from her guilt, Violet had no energy left, but to look at the world around her.

The pond she found was small, and glittered in the silver of the moon. A toad, nestled comfortably in his cubby hole of mud, gently croaked, leaving ripples in the water. It was too cold for bugs of the summer, but she caught sight of a pond skimmer dancing from inch to inch on the water’s surface. Across the way, she noticed a doe, serene and peaceful, come to the edge and drink delicately from the bank. Above her, the trees rustled gently with the wind, and the thick cloud cover began to fade away, revealing the endless sky of twinkling starlight.

Violet stared at her scuffed boots. She pulled them from her feet, and rolled off her sweaty socks. Pant cuffs hoisted to her knees, she scooted forward and laid her feet in the cool water. Tiny fish scuttled off as she dug her toes into the clay. How often did she take such beauty for granted? How often did she ignore the life around her? Life, with its fragile nature, that could so easily be ended, how often did she ignore her fortune? Violet laid flat on the ground, and watched the clouds move slowly above her.

Violet was left to her thoughts for some time. She was unsure how long it was, but if it wasn’t for her buzzing mind, sleep would have taken her a while ago. It was then through the silence that she heard the hollow sound of thick horse hooves. Violet didn’t turn to know that Mei had come looking for her.

Dismounting, Mei took a silent seat next to Violet at the edge of the pond. They sat together in silence, letting the sounds of the world wash over them. “You’re right,” Mei finally said. “We shoulda found some other way. Those men didn’t need to die. Didn’t deserve to.”

Violet sat up and pulled her pruned feet from the water. She put her hands on her ankles, deep in thought. “We didn’t have a lot of time to think. Acting quick kept us alive.”

“Then next time, we’ll act quicker.”

Again, they fell to silence. Violet’s hand fell to the side of her lap, and Mei laced their fingers together.

“Hearst told me something, you know,” said Violet. “That day at Little Rock? Sheriff Anderson saw it. From where he was standing, it looked like I was kidnapped.”

“Is that right?” Mei rubbed her thumb against Violet’s hand.

Violet nodded. “He was gonna take me home, safe and sound. No questions.”

“Ah. I guess that means your name’s been cleared.”

“I guess so.”

A pause sat between them as they both put together what this meant. Violet, however, didn’t want to say it aloud, and so it was left to Mei. “Well, with all those lawmen dead and gone, no one’s around to tell about you helping us escape. You could go home, Violet.”

Violet’s hand tightened around Mei’s. “I could,” she said, her voice weak. “Might be for the best. My year’s halfway up anyhow.”

Mei turned to her. “Your year?”

“The one year you gave me.” Violet turned to her. “‘If you save a man’s life, you are responsible for that life.’ So you gave me one year to learn how to fend for myself. I go home now, and you fulfilled your duty to me, keepin’ me safe, teaching me how to fight. And I…I won’t be a distraction anymore.”

Mei brushed her fingers down Violet’s cheek, her dark gaze earnest. “What makes you think you’re a distraction?”

Violet looked away, her face tilting into the palm of Mei’s hand on its own accord. “Back at Bone House…I know he didn’t mean it in a bad way, but…Linus said I was a good distraction for ya. You want me now, but for how long? What happens when I get in your way? What happens when you find someone you want more than me? What happens…?”

Mei leaned forward, and gently pressed their heads together. Violet looked up, unaware of the pinprick tears in her eyes. Mei wiped one away with the pad of her thumb. “You won’t get in my way, not ever,” she said. “I don’t want you for fun, Violet. And it sure as hell ain’t so easy as leaving you for someone else down the road. Vi…I love you.”

Violet’s heart skipped, and her head felt light. She took hold of Mei’s shoulders and held her close, as though she was the one thing keeping Violet from flying away. They kissed, the taste of Violet’s tears intermingling between them.

“I love you too. And I don’t never wanna leave you.”

They embraced beneath the moonlight, listening to the crickets and the owls and the bugs that kissed the water’s surface. There was no erasing their sins, nor excusing them, but at least, with Mei at Violet’s side, at least life would be worth living.

By the time they returned to camp, the moon was well below the horizon, but the boys had left the fire burning. Rory was the first to look up as they approached. Leaping from Sitting Bear’s lap, he rushed for Violet the minute she dismounted, and wrapped his arms around her waist. Violet fumbled, nearly losing her balance, but hugged him back.

Sniffling, Rory looked up at Violet. “You ain’t leavin’ us, are ya?”

Violet knelt and shook her head. “No, Rory. Of course not.”

“No matter what?”

“No matter what.”

Chapter 13

Familiar sweat slicked down Violet’s body. Her arms, sore though they were, pumped with succinct direction. With every contact of her knuckles, hay flew from the burlap bag tied to her chosen slim tree. She beat it mercilessly, letting the impact of her knuckles rattle up her arms again and again, like a perfect drum beat. It was early—too early for the sun to be up, but late enough for the day’s first light. When the sun began to rise, Violet finally took her moment to breathe. Scooping up a ladle of water from her bucket, she splashed it onto her face to cool off. Her eyes scanned the horizon.

They were a few hundred miles north east of Carson by now. Nevada’s stretches of wide desert had transitioned drastically into mountainous, rocky ridges, with plenty of wildlife to boot. Along their travels, they stopped from time to time and gathered furs and game. As the days got colder, they would find what shelter they could through trading posts and the odd town, posing as tanners. It was a few days ago that they reached Unionville. A rinky-dink mining settlement for sure, but there were still enough people for Mei to take precautions. Skirting the outside of the city, Mei paid their way into a barn on the far rim of town. There was talk of a storm making its way from the west, and with a mountain trail ahead of them from here to the Dakotas, it was better not to risk that kind of weather.

Violet felt a shiver on her skin and wiped herself down with the rag by her feet. The sun was beginning to peek itself over the Pond Mountains and spread evenly across the trees. Violet had been admiring the sunrise when she felt a heavy coat drape over her shoulders.

“You’ll catch cold like that,” Mei said. “Specially wet. What are you doin’ up so early?”

“Couldn’t sleep.” She threaded her arms through the coat and buttoned it up. Her breath puffed like a raincloud. “I think I know how you felt, Mei. I’m antsy, staying here.”

Mei nodded. “If there’s a storm coming, ‘fraid we don’t have a choice.”

“How are you so sure a storm’s coming anyhow?”

“I’m not. But the alternative don’t exactly bode well for us, does it?”

Violet sighed. She sat herself on a small, gutted bale of hay and rubbed her hands together. Her knuckles, she noticed, had formed new bruises. Nothing she wasn’t used to by now. “Why are we even headed to Dakota anyhow? With Abernathy showin’ up in El Paso, I woulda thought you’d want to go after him.”

Mei considered her answer. As she did, she turned, and motioned Violet to follow her. They approached the ranch in which Mei had secured their sanctuary. The barn, surrounded by pig pens and hen houses, was a modest size, and made of unpainted wood and unfussy structure. “Trust me,” Mei finally said, “there ain’t nothing I’d rather do than go after that yella bastard, but to be honest, I wouldn’t know where to start. Took me years to get that last pulse on him, and now with the heat on, who knows where he went off to? Besides, we best lay low ‘till they lose the scent. At least through the winter.”

“No complaints there,” Violet agreed. “Still, why there? Wouldn’t it make sense to be somewhere warmer?” Violet opened the gate and led Mei into their barn. The horses were saddled with blankets and feed to the left, and to the right, the Railwalkers had put together a comfortable little corner to cook and sleep. The boys were just starting to stir as Mei and Violet approached.

“We gotta go where we’ll be safe,” Mei said. “We got spotted down south; Bone House is too risky. So we got ourselves another little contact up north.”

Soon, they started a fire and put on the kettle. With hot coffee to share, the Railwalkers settled in for a warm breakfast. The wind, as expected, picked up sometime before dinner, but even so, Violet was antsy. She had traced the ranch about ten full times since arriving in Unionville, and if she was stuck there for a few more days, she wanted to at least see the rest of it. Granted, wandering into town after Carson wasn’t the greatest idea in the world, but Violet assured the others that she’d keep her coat collar up and her eyes ahead of her. She certainly wasn’t interested in standing out these days.

With Mei’s hesitant blessing, Violet left the ranch and wandered into town. As part of her bargaining for a few hours on her own, she offered to pick up supplies for their journey north. So, with a sack in hand, she headed down the main drag and took in the sights. Unionville had the usual fare: a general store, a post office, and a bank, mixed in with a few residential homes and a saloon or two. Violet passed through town largely unnoticed, for which she was grateful. She stopped at the corner general to start her shopping when another building caught her eye.

A humble church sat on a small hill just off the main stretch of the town. It was small, with a little graveyard settled beneath a covering of fruit trees, all barren from the cold weather. White paint tapered off halfway along the wall with a few empty cans below. Staring at the church, Violet realized she hadn’t been inside one since leaving Redrock. She glanced back at the general store and, stuffing the empty sack into her coat pocket, headed up towards the churchyard.

At the front gate, Violet looked around. What day was it, even? Since starting life on the road, it wasn’t like she needed a calendar. However, due to the lack of congregation, Violet could safely wager that it wasn’t a Sunday. She looked over the graveyard first. A few headstones, most carved out of slats of wood, sat over mounds of cold dirt. A few older graves were overgrown with grass and flowers. A newer one, near the front of the yard, was smaller than the rest, with a fresh mound of dirt beneath its marker. On it sat a ragdoll and a pair of tiny, white shoes. Violet’s heart ached, and in the back of her mind, she wondered…where were those lawmen buried?

Trying to push it from her mind, Violet entered the church, removing her hat as she went. There were six pews on either side of the aisle. A modest altar sat near the front, beneath a beautifully carved and painted cross. Violet’s boots echoed as she stepped further inside the empty, one-room building.

Coming to the front of the church, she sat herself down and stared at the cross. Now that she was closer, she noticed a painting behind it. The painting depicted Jesus, ascending to the clouded paradise of Heaven. As a child, Violet remembered going to Sunday mass with a sense of reverence, awe, even. Now, sitting in this empty room, staring at a painting, Violet wasn’t sure what she felt. Violet wasn’t sure if she felt anything at all.

“Can I help you?” A voice from the entrance caught her attention, and Violet turned in her seat. A young vicar, draped in robes and holding a bible, approached her. He smiled warmly. “Is there something on your mind, my child?”

Violet returned to the painting, almost if to see if it had changed. It remained as still as ever. “You could say that, father.”

“May I sit?” Violet gestured to the bench beside her, and the priest took a seat. “I don’t think I know you, miss.”

“Just passing through,” said Violet.

“I see. And what brings you to our humble parish?”

“Not sure…” Violet leaned against the pew. Her fingers toyed with the brim of her hat. “I guess I just…ain’t been in one for a while. Figured I’d at least pay a visit.”

The vicar’s smile widened. “Well, then I would say that the Lord has brought you to my doorstep for a reason. Tell me, what weighs on your soul?”

Violet scoffed. “What indeed…” She sighed. There was a lengthy pause between the pair of them, and just as the priest readied to speak again, Violet found her words. “How do you live with yourself when you do somethin’ bad, father?”

The priest hesitated. “Well,” he said slowly, “it is in the nature of man to sin. Only when you confess to your wrongdoings can you make peace with God.”

“Just that easy, isn’t it?” Violet rolled her head onto the back of the pew, feeling an ache in her skull. “Just admit to what you done out loud, say you’re sorry, and everything comes up roses? Must be real, real nice.”

“And what was it you’ve done, my child?”

Violet lifted her head. She and the vicar locked eyes. If Violet had to guess, he was barely a year or two older than she was. “I killed a man,” she said. She watched as the young man’s eyes widened with shock. Violet continued. “Killed about a half dozen, matter of fact. First one, well, that was understandable, I guess, what with him tryin’ to have his way with me. So I stabbed him through his fat neck. Watched him bleed at my feet. The others…” Violet sighed deeply. “The others, I had help with. Their only crime was knowing who me and my friends were.”

By now, the priest’s face was drained of all color. “And…and who are your friends?” he whispered.

Violet smiled, bitterly. “My friends…are my friends. And just about all of us are rotted to the core, I think. Even if we won’t say it.” Violet began to lift her hat, and the vicar jerked back, as though she had raised her hand to strike him. Violet chuckled and placed her hat squarely on her head.

“All things considered, I probably shouldn’t’ve walked in here. You seem like a nice boy. There ain’t no need to bring you into my mess.” She stood and shoved her hands into her pockets. She gave the painting one last look. “They say confession’s good for the soul, right, Father?” The priest nodded smally. “Well…I’d much appreciate it if you kept this conversation between the two of us. And the Lord, o’course. Anyone else knowin’ what I just told you would be a heap of trouble that I don’t want to bother with. Is that all right, father?” Again, the priest nodded, weaker this time. “Thank you, kindly.” Violet turned and made her exit, when she saw a collection box next to the open door. Digging through her jean pocket, she pulled out a crisp dollar bill and shoved it through the slot. Without another word, she stepped out of the church and back into town.

* * * *

The trail from west to east was a gray slosh of mud and storm clouds. The towns they stopped through began to blur for Violet. The same dirt main roads, the same banks and saloons, the same weary-eyed people watching them as they made their stay and took their leave. Throughout their travels, Violet took much of that time for herself. Some days, she would be so lost in her own mind that she barely said anything beyond the usual pleasantries.

Sleep was not easy in the colder days. Though she made a point of cuddling up to Mei beneath their blankets, the hard ground did Violet no favors. So, every day before the sun rose, Violet would stir from her lover’s side, find a spot some yards from their camp, and practice. If she was lucky, Violet could put together a target and take a few hearty swings before the rest of the camp was up. Other times, Violet would punch in the air, just to see how quickly her arms could move. She’d lift heavy rocks, or try to time herself running. With every morning, she felt the work come easier and easier to her, and soon craved it every night as she tried to sleep. There was a thrill in those mornings. Even in the chill, Violet’s blood ran hot. With these mornings came a distinct thrill better than any liquor. Gradually, Violet began to feel powerful.

It was after one of these mornings that they came across yet another small town on their way up north. Violet vaguely recalled them crossing state lines some days ago. By her estimation, they would have been somewhere along Wyoming’s west end by now. The flat land was faded with silver cloud cover as a brisk wind tousled her jacket collar. She clutched the lapels tighter.

“How much longer till we get to Grammy’s?” Rory asked, huddled tightly in Sitting Bear’s lap.

“Shouldn’t be too long,” Linus answered. “Once we hit the Big Horn Mountains, less than a week.” They rode past a few shabby cabins and into the center, where a rusty tin saloon sat lopsided in the main square. Beside it was a stable, where they hosted their horses for the night. Rory took extra care in wishing Sweetpea a good night’s rest and covered her with double blankets. Sweetpea, in turn, swiped the blankets from her back with her teeth and threw them onto Rory’s head. After the cycle repeated itself a few times over, the Railwalkers headed inside for a drink and a hot meal.

Within the saloon sat the usual fixtures. A bar, a row of bottles, a few wobbly tables, and a tinny piano in the far corner. A few other folks populated the floor, but not many. A mustached bartender spoke casually to a pair of local patrons, and a young, somewhat dumpy brown-haired girl busied herself with cleaning the mud off the saloon floors.

The Railwalkers sat themselves at a narrow end of the bar. When the bartender approached, Mei laid down a few crisp dollars. “Whiskey,” she said. “Food if you got it. And…” Mei gestured to Rory. “Buttermilk for that one.” Without a word, the barman nodded and stepped to the back of the saloon. Violet could smell a wood stove on the other side. She hoped it was something other than beans.

“Lord…” Linus stretched his back, and Violet heard a few pops. “It don’t matter how long we ride, there are some times it just wears on you.”

“We’ll have our break in no time,” said Mei. “Though knowing Grammy, we’ll probably be put to work somehow.” Sitting Bear nodded in agreement.

“So who is this Grammy?” Violet asked. “Is she like Madam Hen?”

Linus chuckled. “Nah. Ol’ Henny’s a special case.” His eyes twinkled at her name, and he continued. “Grammy is this lil’ old widow we found out in the hills one day. Thought she mighta been in some kind of trouble when we met her. We found her facin’ off with a bear.”

Violet straightened. “A bear?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Linus continued. “It was unfortunate enough to wander onto her property without asking nicely. She would’ve just about clean shot its head off if we hadn’t walked by and spooked it. She’s a tough old gal, Grammy is.”

After vividly imagining a little old lady with a rifle hunting down a massive grizzly bear, the name suddenly clicked for Violet, and she turned to Rory. “Wait, isn’t this Grammy the one you was telling me about a while back?”

Rory beamed. “Yup! She knows all the stories about fairies and brownies and spirits that live in the woods. You’ll like her stories, Vi. She has the best ones.”

Violet smiled. “I’m sure I will.” The bartender returned with their drinks, and soon after with plates of meat and johnny cakes. While they ate, Violet began to feel a prickle on her neck. She chanced a look over her shoulder and spotted the plump maid from earlier staring Violet down. Almost instantly, the maid snapped back to her work, keeping her face and eyes averted. Violet watched her for a while longer. After a few moments, the maid stood and scuttled into the back room, almost out of fear. Violet’s stomach gave a nervous lurch. She lowered her voice and spoke calmly.

“Y’all see that girl?” she asked. The others looked up from their plates. “The girl scrubbin’ the floors. I think she spotted us.”

“Are you sure?” Mei asked.

“Just about.” Violet put down her fork and stood from her stool. “Let me go and see.” She put her hands in her pockets and casually strolled through the rear swinging door. Beyond it was a small room, chock full of dry goods, pots, pans, and scrub brushes. The maid, unaware of Violet’s presence, was quietly muttering to herself with hushed nervousness. Violet cleared her throat.

The maid yelped and whipped around. Her plump face went red, and she clutched her apron to her breast. “O-oh…Are you—Do you need somethin’, miss?”

“Maybe,” said Violet. “I think I need to know what soured your milk, girl.”

“I…I dunno what you mean—”

Violet took a step forward and saw her tremble. Violet paused and glanced behind her. There was only one door in and out; the chances that they’d be interrupted were slim to none. “You know who we are, don’t you? It’s all right. We won’t hurt you none.”

The maid bit her lip, and after a brief hesitation, she nodded. “You’re—I mean I don’t know who you is, exactly, but if you’re runnin’ with them…” She paused again. “Y’all’re Railwalkers, ain’tchya?”

“Yes ma’am,” said Violet politely. “I s’pose you recognized my friends right quick.”

The maid swallowed, still clutching her apron. “Yes,” she said. “That woman y’all’r with. I know’d I seen her before. Had her face on a wanted poster. I ain’t never seen a woman on a wanted poster before. And once I found out what y’all did I…I weren’t quick to forget it.”

Violet sighed and put her hands on her hips. “What’s your name, sugar?”

“Maddie.”

“All right, Maddie. I’m gonna need a favor from you. You’re gonna need to forget it real fast, and forget it good. We ain’t fixin’ for trouble, and the last thing we want is for some nice girl like you to get mixed up with us. You hear me?”

Maddie was still a moment, and then she relaxed. There was a fleeting look in her eye. Violet almost pegged it for disappointment. But as soon as it had come, it was gone. Maddie nodded, her head down, and Violet took one last step forward. “We promise not to stir no pots,” she said. Maddie looked up at her, shyly. “We’re here for the night to get a good rest, and we’ll be gone by morning. We don’t want trouble, I promise you.”

Maddie nodded again, and made to leave, when she stopped, halfway to the door. She turned to face Violet, no longer trembling in fear. “Can I ask you somethin’?”

“If you’d like.”

Maddie fiddled with the doorknob. “Is…is it true y’all only kill bad men?”

“Is that what you hear?”

“Yes,” said Maddie. “I hear y’all only go after folks what break the law and get away scott free. I didn’t believe it at first but now I…well…”

Violet’s mind immediately went to those dead lawmen. Her heart clenched, but she pushed it back. “That’s right,” she said. “We only ever kill bad men. Now go on.”

Maddie nodded, and with a turn of the knob, Violet was left alone.

After rejoining the Railwalkers for the rest of her supper, for which Violet barely had any appetite left, the bartender gave them their room key. They headed upstairs and immediately shed their wool lined coats and heavy, sweat-soaked boots. Stripped to only her shirt and her trousers, Violet flopped on the hay bed with a happy sigh. “Feels so good to sleep on somethin’ that ain’t rock,” she said.

Mei laid beside her and nodded in agreement. “It’s funny, you always feel like you’re gonna miss that big open land until you get yourself a sturdy bed.” She yawned widely. “I might even take myself a nap.” She turned to Violet, questioning.

Violet sat up and put her hands on her lap. “I’m thinkin’ about a bath myself.”

“Hell, that sounds nice right about now,” Linus chimed in. “Why don’t you ladies treat yourselves first? We’ll rent our tubs after.” Mei agreed, and the pair of them wandered back downstairs to pay for hot baths. “Hot” being a rather generous word. The public tubs were just a couple of big, tin wash bowls with some necessaries split between them. The ground water was hardly warm, but it would do. Especially when Mei decided that it’d be warmer for them to bathe together.

With her hair braided and bunned behind her head, Mei got in first, and Violet rested between her legs. Together, they scrubbed and washed, playing with the lilac suds between them. Things had been so dour lately, with so much to worry about, Violet had almost forgot what these moments felt like. After washing her hair and scrubbing her unmentionables, Violet curled up against Mei’s breast, listening to her heartbeat against the soapy water. Mei tucked a strand of hair behind Violet’s ear.

“It’s getting longer,” she said.

Violet nodded. “Think I should cut it again?”

Mei shrugged. “It’s your hair. Though hard pressed, I’d say it looks mighty nice when it’s cropped short.”

Violet lifted her head and rested her chin on Mei’s bony rib cage. “What about your hair?” she asked. “You like it that long?”

Mei’s smile faltered. She touched it, almost absentmindedly. “I guess you could say that.” Violet inched closer, imploring Mei to elaborate. Mei sighed. “My mother had long hair, if you remembered.”

“I do,” said Violet.

“Well…when I was just a little girl myself, all the railworkers and their families had long hair. The white wardens called us names. Sometimes tugged on our hair for fun. Slapped men’s braids like a horse’s rein. But not one of them cut their hair. My papa told me that your hair was part of your soul. Cutting it damaged who you were on the inside. I can’t say if I believe that or not but…” Pulling an ivory hairpin from her bun, Mei let the braid unfurl and collapse onto the ground. Violet ran her eyes down the links of ebony silk, as if to count them. “I feel like…it’s the last bit of them I have left in this world. Does that make sense?”

Violet’s heart softened. She laid back into her position on Mei’s chest, nodding. “Makes perfect sense,” she muttered.

After their bath, they dried and dressed, and headed back to their room to let Linus know that the baths were free. But as they turned a corner, a surprise visitor was waiting for them. Maddie, her hands clutching a scrub brush, was anxiously loitering outside the Railwalkers’ door. When she saw Mei and Violet return, she flushed, and approached swiftly. “Miss…” she squeaked. She glanced at Mei and clammed up. Shrinking, she stared at her feet, struggling to get the words out. Mei and Violet looked at one another.

“Was this the one?” Mei asked.

Violet nodded. “Something on your mind, Maddie?”

Maddie flinched, as though Violet had shouted. She took a breath and lifted her head. “Might I…talk to y’all in private, miss?”

Violet looked to Mei for permission. Mei nodded, and led the three of them into the room where the boys lingered. Seeing that there was a guest, Linus stood and took off his hat. “Who’s this?” he asked.

“Why don’t you have a seat, Maddie?” Violet pulled up a stool and gently coaxed Maddie to sit. She addressed the room. “This is the maid from downstairs who recognized us. I was sure that there wouldn’t be no trouble after she and I had a chat…”

“Oh no!” Maddie snapped her head up quickly. “No, there won’t be no trouble. Trust me, I ain’t gonna tell nobody ‘bout y’all.”

“Well then?” Mei asked. “What brings you here, Maddie?”

Maddie stared at her lap, squeezing the scrub brush in her hands. “I was hopin’…hopin’ to hire ya.” A silence followed. Taking a deep breath, Mei pulled up her own chair and sat in front of Maddie. She leaned forward on her knees, her face serious, and said;

“All right. Tell us what you need.”

Maddie lifted her eyes, and Violet caught sight of tears forming in her big, brown gaze. She quickly wiped her red face as she began to speak. “It’s my…my husband. We’ve only been married a year come January, but he treats me like some old nag. Shouts at me when I ain’t done with work quick enough to make him supper, whacks at me when I’m tryin’ to get things done. He’s a real mean drinker, and I…I…” Her voice wavered and she buried her face into her apron. Mei waited, patiently, until Maddie could speak again. “I know y’all kill bad men. But I don’t—I don’t want him dead, you see? He’s a good man under all that drink, I just want…” She shuddered and caught her breath. “I just want him to treat me like he did when we was first married. So maybe…if you could…could scare him a little?”

Mei’s brows furrowed and she folded her arms. “Well that there, that’s a problem, Maddie. We scare the lovin’ pants off your husband, who stops him from running to the nearest marshal?”

“Oh but he won’t! You rough him up enough and he won’t! I promise!”

“Just like how he promised to love and cherish his bride?” Linus asked, cynically. He too wore a frown of discontent. “No ma’am. After the months we’ve been having, we can’t risk that kinda exposure.”

Violet, whose heart broke at Maddie’s story, turned to the Railwalkers in shock. “What sorta excuse is that…?”

Maddie dug through her apron and pulled out a few loose dollars and some hard coins. “I got money!” she exclaimed. “It ain’t much but it’s all I got! I just want him to stop hittin’ me is all…”

Mei’s brow knitted with pity. “It ain’t a matter of money, child. The reason we do away with folks like we do is it makes it harder for the law to track our trail. I’m sorry. I’m afraid we can’t help you unless you want him dead. And even then, we showed our faces in this town. I’m not so sure we’d be inclined to help after getting comfortable here regardless.” Maddie closed her hands around the crumpled money, near on the edge of tears.

Violet stepped forward, a familiar anger boiling within her. “So that’s it? This girl comes to us for help and we won’t even—?”

Mei frowned. “Violet, the last two times we barely escaped with our skins. I ain’t ready to push that luck, I don’t know about you.”

“If it means helpin’ this poor girl, you bet your bottom dollar I am.”

“It is unwise,” said Sitting Bear. “If you are caught, there is no guarantee you will be saved.”

“Did y’all not hear me? Since when are the Railwalkers a buncha yellow-bellied cowards anyway?”

“This ain’t about bein’ yellow,” Mei said, her voice raising in frustration. “It’s about bein’ smart. You think we lasted this long by takin’ every sob story that came our way?”

With that, Maddie stood. Her face was bright red with fresh tears flowing. “I understand. Sorry for botherin’ y’all.” Violet opened her mouth to stop her, but Maddie was out the door before Violet could get a word out. As she left, a cold chill settled over the room. Violet turned to the others, who did well to keep their eyes averted.

“Some heroes we turn out to be.”

“Don’t you do nothin’ rash.” Mei folded her arms firmly and leaned back in her seat. “Luck’s been on our side these last coupla times. No promises that it’ll stay that way.”

“What if we send her back to that man and she winds up dead? What then?”

Linus sighed heavily, hat still in hands. “Trust us, Vi…If we could save everyone, we would.” He shook his head. “It just ain’t in the cards. Not until winter’s over.”

Violet glared at the floor. No matter how much she wanted to argue, the fact remained that the Railwalkers knew the dangers of their life better than Violet could. “It just ain’t fair…”

Mei’s face softened and she rubbed her temple. “No,” she said. “It ain’t.” Violet turned and grabbed her coat from the wardrobe. As she stuffed her feet into her leather boots, Mei sat up stiffly. “Where are you headed?” she asked. Suspicion was thick within her voice.

“Relax,” Violet said, sliding her arms into her jacket. “I’m just goin’ for a walk.” There was doubt in Mei’s eyes, but Violet ignored it. Turning from the room, she shoved her hat back on her head and stalked through the saloon and into the daylight.

The air was brisk. Violet first wandered in circles around town. A few cowhands had taken a cigarette break near the entrance of the dinky town’s only ranch. Around the bend, a schoolhouse rang a bell, releasing its children for the day. Violet wandered until she came across a dirt road with a handful of cabins. Finding a log to sit on, Violet watched as families rejoined after a long day of work. Her mind wandered to memories of Redrock. Funny, she hadn’t thought of home in some time. It seemed distant, like a dream of another life. The run-in with Hearst, on the orders of Sheriff Andrew, had brought it all back. Violet stuffed her hands into her jacket pockets, when she felt something stuffed within them. As though God Himself had waited for His cue, Violet’s leather journal sat untouched within her wool lined jacket.

Violet opened it and flipped through the several blank pages. When Violet first left home, she was determined to keep up with her letters. Seeing only a single tear in her pages, Violet realized just how poorly she’d kept that promise. Violet dug back into her pocket, but found it empty; her pencil must have been left back in the room. Violet shoved the book back in her jacket, making a note to take time for a letter later.

As the ranch hands headed home for the day, Violet caught sight of a familiar face just yards off from where she sat. Maddie was trudging home, her skirts dirty from work. She had yet to notice Violet, and focused only on putting one foot in front of the other. Her home was the farthest down the row. It was less put-together than the rest. There were gaps in the wooden planks, and plenty of holes in the shingled roof. Her chimney was crumbling from the top down, and Violet could see where the front steps were warped from rot.

Violet waited until Maddie was well inside. She scanned the area. No one had paid her any mind. Casually, Violet dug her hands in her pockets and headed towards Maddie’s cabin. Upon reaching the door, Violet hung back, and peeked through the side window. Through the dirty glass, Violet spotted a single room cabin, complete with a soot-covered hearth, a ramshackle bed, and a few splintery brooms near the corner. For now, Maddie was alone.

Violet again surveyed the area. No sign of her husband. Out behind the cabin, Violet spotted a few tree stumps next to a measly pile of damp firewood. She made her way to the stump, took a seat, and waited. There was no back door, and what Violet could see was obscured mostly from the moth-eaten lace curtains that hung over the grimy windows. Making herself comfortable, Violet sat, and waited.

In the hours that passed, Violet busied herself with small projects. She’d taken a chunk of knotted wood and carved it for most of her time with her hunting knife. The final product wasn’t exactly what one would call art, or even recognizable. But after drilling two small eyes in what could only have been its head, Violet decided that her lump of wood was a dog. Beyond her wood carving, she braided large stalks of grass, eventually making a dry bit of rope. By the time the sun set, it was long enough to wrap around her knuckles once. When she had finished both her tasks, Violet looked up to check the sky. The sun had been down an hour by now, and the chill in the autumn air was growing stronger. Violet was considering heading back to the saloon when a swaying figure caught her eye.

A man, a bottle lingering between his fingers, was headed for Maddie’s cabin. He took a few swigs with each step, and when he was done, threw the bottle to one side. It crashed in the distance, and he walked himself inside.

Violet sat up straight, her ears perking to the voices in the cabin. So far, nothing terrible. Violet could pick out the man’s gruff voice easily; Maddie’s was harder to notice. Through the windows, Violet saw the fruits of Maddie’s work. She had gotten a small fire going, with a pot of stew boiling in the hearth. A few lamps were lit, and Maddie was holding the splintered broom, no doubt having been tidying up while her husband spent his night drinking.

Quietly, Violet put her knife away and stood. With a better view, she saw Maddie’s husband pace, and riffle through a few bottles on a wooden counter. His voice raised, and Maddie clutched the broom tighter. He whipped around, his face blocked by the curtains, and shouted something. If Violet had to guess, he was looking for more liquor.

Violet clutched the cold handle of her pistol. With silent steps, she walked around the house and stood in front of the door. The yelling was getting worse. A glass shattered. Maddie yelped in fear. A chair scraped the floor.

Violet had heard enough.

Violet kicked open the front door, which knocked it off its rotted top hinge like a slab of butter. What she saw only confirmed the row she’d heard outside. Maddie stood in the center of the cabin, cowering in terror. Her husband, who Violet could now see as a young, pot-bellied dark-haired man with patchy whiskers, was bent over her with his hand wrapped around her plump arm. At the sound of the door, he turned, his bloodshot eyes riddled with shock and anger. Violet, without hesitation, raised her pistol and aimed it right between his eyes.

“Don’t move, you goddamned snake.” Violet kept her voice calm, though her heart pounded like an angry drum. Stepping inside, the now broken door swung back into place, sitting lopsided against the frame. Maddie’s husband was at a loss for words and blinked dumbly at the sight of Violet’s pistol.

“What…? You gonna…you gonna shoot me?”

Violet took a moment to consider the question. She looked to her pistol, to Maddie’s frightened eyes, then to her husband’s drunken ones. She lowered it, just slightly. “No,” she said. “I don’t think I need to.”

Wham! Without a word of warning, Violet smashed the butt of her Smith & Wesson against the side of the husband’s jaw. She could feel it dislodge against her hand, and the man flew back, his arms flailing like wild windmills. Dazed, he tumbled to the hay bed. Violet stood over him, gun in hand. She looked to Maddie, who stared in disbelief. Uncocking her hammer, Violet twirled her gun upside down and handed it to Maddie. “Here,” she said. “Hold this.” Maddie took the gun dutifully. Violet, with a half step back, shed her coat and kicked it aside. After all, it would just get in the way.

The husband began to stand, though he was still rather wobbly after Violet’s sucker punch. Snarling like a pig, he grit his teeth at Violet, crouched in, and leapt. Violet side-stepped him with ease, and sent her knee straight into the center of his chest, winding him. Before he went down a second time, Violet grabbed him by the hair and thrust his head through a window. He cried out, the broken glass shredding his face and scalp. Violet yanked him back and began to throw punches. Two at his face, one in his gut, another at his face, a second at his gut. Violet let her arms run wild, losing count of just how often her knuckles landed. After one clear clock to a now broken nose, Violet sent the husband flying, crashing into the hot pot of soup. Both he and the supper fell onto the wood floor. Maddie jumped out of the way, careful not to touch the steaming soup. Violet, on the other hand, saw an opportunity.

With a vicious kick, Violet rolled the husband over into the puddle of scalding hot stew. He screamed at the pain, but Violet didn’t relent. She shoved her heel into the back of his head, forcing his face into the broth. Steam was starting to rise from his skin, which was redder than a ripe tomato. Finally, when the husband was totally limp, Violet hoisted him up by his collar and threw him onto the supper table. The wood cracked beneath his weight. Violet didn’t reach for her gun, but instead, grabbed a broken piece of glass. She held it to his neck and stared in the warped, swollen face of her victim.

“I’m only gonna tell you this once, so you better listen. You lay one more finger on her—or anyone, for that matter—I find you, and I finish the job. Are we straight, friend?” The husband gurgled, with blood bubbling through his broken teeth. With disgust, Violet threw him back to the ground. Maddie stood in stunned silence, her hands still clutching onto Violet’s gun. Violet addressed her calmly. “I’ll be having that back now, ma’am.” Maddie shakily held out Violet’s six shooter. “Sorry about the soup.” Violet holstered her gun, donned her jacket and fallen hat, and left without another word.

Violet’s steps were swift and deliberate. Her whole body shook, not with fear, or anger, or sadness, but with joy. Damn if that didn’t feel good. Who knew that taking down a vile man like that was so simple? She replayed the scene again and again in her mind. Perhaps she shouldn’t have taken such pleasure in beating a man within an inch of his life. But truth be told, there was a lot she shouldn’t do these days.

“Violet.”

Violet snapped out of her daze to see Mei standing before her. They were in a rather empty stretch of road and brush. Again, Violet hadn’t paid attention to where her feet had taken her. Mei looked Violet over with wide eyes. “Jesus…” She raised Violet’s hand an inspected it. Only now did Violet see the cuts and bruises on her knuckles. “What did you—?”

Mei didn’t finish that sentence. She didn’t get a chance. Knocking Mei’s hand away, Violet reached out, pulled Mei close, and kissed her. It was lustful, brutal, and raw. Mei was so taken aback, she nearly fell under Violet’s weight, but soon reciprocated in Violet’s arms. When they broke apart, they were both gasping for breath. Violet gripped Mei’s neck, rife with wanton need.

“Make love to me,” she growled.

Mei blinked, looking rather dizzy from all of this. She looked around them, as if to find an audience watching. “Make…Y’mean right here…?”

Violet yanked Mei to the side of the road and pinned her to a wide tree. Her nails dug under Mei’s clothes, feeling the fine skin beneath. Mei gasped, her face tender and vulnerable in a way Violet hadn’t seen before. It only set her passions further ablaze. They kissed again, Mei whimpering against Violet’s lips. The power of her body, the pain in her knuckles, all of it swirled within Violet in a deadly concoction ready to spill from her at any moment.

They fell to the side and collapsed in the dirt. Now hidden by wild brush, Violet set to work. She stripped Mei of her shirt and spread her fingers along Mei’s chest. Her dark nipples perked at the cold, her chest heaving with rapt breath. Violet dug her teeth down the center of Mei’s chest, leading down to her stomach, and further down to the hem of her pants. As Violet unbuttoned Mei’s jeans, she felt Mei’s hand snag a handful of Violet’s scruffy hair, pulling on it with encouragement. Spreading her legs, Violet dove between them, and slithered her tongue deep within Mei’s flower, tasting the nectar that lay within. Mei’s back arched in unbridled pleasure, her eyes closed as she gave herself fully to Violet’s whims. It took only a few more moments before Mei rolled her head back and moaned outright, her body breaking beneath Violet’s fingers.

They remained entangled for some time after. After a few more activities, they laid together, clothes disheveled, and stared at the cloudless sky. The smell of sex lingered heavily between them, and the cool wind kissed their sweaty, sticky bodies. Violet had found her usual, comfortable place nestled between Mei’s chest and her long arm.

“I did somethin’ rash,” Violet said.

“I figured,” Mei replied. “Did you kill him?”

“No. But he wasn’t exactly talkin’ when I left.”

Mei chuckled. Reaching into her coat pocket, she pulled out a pre-rolled cigarette and lit it. The smoke wafted into the air like coiling snakes. “It was a stupid thing to do.”

“Yes,” Violet agreed.

“Are you still glad you did it?”

Violet pushed herself up and took the cigarette from Mei’s fingers. Taking a deep drag herself, she blew out the musky taste in one, smooth stream. “Best goddamn decision of my life.” Her cool-headed answer was weakened just a bit due to the coughing fit that followed. Mei laughed, taking the cigarette from her.

“Let’s head back. I paid for a bed, damn it, and I intend to use it.”

* * * *

Mama,

You must be worried sick by now. If you have not already, please try to put your worries to rest. I am healthy, and stronger than I’ve ever felt. I have seen more in this year than I’d dreamed I would in my lifetime.

Even so, I miss you and Charlie dearly. I wish I could receive a letter from you in return, but it would not be wise.

I will see you again. Merry Christmas.

Love,

V.

Violet looked over her letter one last time. It was the last in a long line of drafts. Some said too much, others too little. Violet couldn’t risk any postage getting into the wrong hands, especially now. Satisfied, Violet folded her letter and stuffed it into an envelope.

“Ready?” Linus asked. Violet nodded. Putting the letter in her inside jacket pocket, she followed Linus out the door of the saloon and into the brisk air.

After leaving their last town, they didn’t come across another one for a full week. The wind was colder the further north they went, and Violet had invested some money into warmer clothes for the coming winter; a woolen scarf, a pair of leather gloves, and some fresh, thick wool socks. Today, she and Linus had an errand to run. This would be the last Wells Fargo they would come across before reaching Grammy’s property, and so they needed to take advantage of it.

The post office was a small place. Barely the size of a one roomed cabin, with an old nag and wagon in the stables out back. Behind the counter, an old man with a massive mustache snoozed quietly on a creaky stool. It squeaked with every snore.

Linus approached the counter and cleared his throat. The mustached man didn’t stir. Linus rang the counter bell. The man suddenly bolted up and flailed, and took a moment to realize where he was. He blinked at Linus and Violet.

“Welcome to Wells Farrrrrrrgo,” he yawned. He patted his wide open mouth and cleared his throat. “Excuse me, folks. Slow mornin’. What can I do you for?”

“I’d like to make a wire transfer,” Linus said, handing the man his information. “And the lady here needs to send a letter.”

“All right, all right.” The mustached man placed a pair of bifocals on his stubby nose and looked over Linus’s papers. After checking things through, he scribbled a few notes down, and excused himself from the counter. Standing, he lumbered to the back, where he busied himself with more paperwork.

While they waited, Violet took off her leather glove to flex her fingers. The cold was numbing them, even through the gloves. Her knuckles, although they’d taken time to heal, were still nicely bruised from her last adventure. At least they weren’t sore any longer. Linus glanced at her hands casually.

“You really musta done a number on that one,” he said.

Violet smirked, holding up her hand with pride. “Sure did. Never felt so good in my life.”

Linus chuckled and leaned against the counter. “Too bad your knuckles pay the price.”

“Too bad,” Violet agreed. “But, considering the result, I can’t say I mind all that much. Bruises heal.”

“That they do.”

The mustached man returned and this time took Violet’s letter. As he did, he stopped, mid-grab, and noticed the state of Violet’s hands. “Lord.” He took off his glasses to see her knuckles clearly. Violet pulled her hand away, but he’d seen enough. “Pardon my askin’, miss, but what on earth happened?”

Violet smiled easily. “Farm work,” she said. “Horses don’t break themselves, y’know.”

The man was visibly soothed, though there were plenty of questions in his eye. “I s’pose not.” He gestured to her letter. “Pony express all right with you?”

“Yessir.”

He returned to the back counter, fiddled with a few documents, and returned to the front. In his hands he offered two handwritten receipts for both Linus and Violet. They took each one, respectively. “Breakin’ stallions’ is hard work,” he remarked. “But I never really seen bruises like that.” He motioned for Violet’s hand. After a little hesitation, Violet held it out. He observed it, thoughtfully.

“In fact…” he said slowly. “I’d say you didn’t have nothin’ to do with horses at all, miss.” He glanced up at Violet, who kept her smile cordial. “Not unless you and the horse got yourselves into a bar fight.”

Violet put her glove back on and shrugged. “It was a stubborn horse,” she lied.

“I see…” The man rubbed his mustache in thought. After a moment, he stood, turned back around, and finalized the mail on the back counter. Taking it as their cue, Violet and Linus turned to leave, when the man spoke up one last time. “Them gloves you’re wearin’…They’d do well enough to save your knuckles from a proper bruisin’ next time.” He glanced over his shoulders. “For the stubborn horses, o’course.”

Violet’s smile turned a shade more genuine, and she and Linus left the post office to return to the others. The walk back to their current saloon was a pleasant one. Even with the brisk air and smell of rain, Violet was in a chipper mood. The morning after her altercation, she was sure there would be at least some heat from the local authorities. But Violet was pleased to see that nothing had come of it—not even rumors. Before leaving that day, Violet got her answer.

Maddie had seen them off when they left the saloon. She gave Violet what little change she could scrape together, and blissfully gave her the news. Maddie’s husband, simply put, was too ashamed to leave the house, let alone tell the sheriff what had happened. Not to mention he was far too weak to retaliate against her; she doubted if he ever would again. When Violet left the town, she left without a suspicious eye upon her, and Maddie’s conversation swirled eternally in her head. That night, she had an epiphany which delighted her: there was no cover so strongly defended than that of a man’s pride. And no man worth his salt would press charges against a woman who left him bloodied and humiliated.

Linus and Violet returned to where the rest of the Railwalkers were waiting; while they had dropped off their letters, Mei, Sitting Bear, and Rory lingered by a trading post, selling a few spare furs for supplies. Mei nodded as they approached.

“Bear’s just about done,” she said. Her eyes tilted upwards. “Gonna snow soon. Damn. I was hopin’ we’d beat it.”

“Well, no use wasting time,” said Linus.

Mei agreed. Once the trade was finalized, they saddled up and continued north. Sweatpea, although she was not old enough to ride quite yet, was burdened with a few of Rory’s personal parcels and pouches, as well as a blanket Rory bought to keep her warm. All throughout the trip, Rory spoke eagerly of spring, when she’d be big enough to break. Violet certainly looked forward to it.

The wind picked up along the trail, biting at their faces as they rode north. No matter how many times Violet rubbed her hands within her pockets, or blew on her fingertips, she could barely feel the inside of her leather gloves. They began to see chunks of ice alongside the dirt road, and Violet fantasized about a warm fire and a thick, lamb-skin blanket. The sun set far earlier than normal, and soon they were debating on a place to sleep for the night.

“That there looks good,” said Violet, spotting a small glen up the road.

Mei nodded. “We might want a little more cover. In case it snows.”

Violet opened her mouth to speak—probably something to the effect of suggesting a cave or nearby barn—when a gun shot off somewhere in the distance, and a bullet exploded in the muddy sleet by their horses’ hooves. In a flurry of panic, Mei and Violet sent Huī and Maple off at full speed. The gunshots continued, and Violet could hear unfamiliar horses gather behind them. Violet looked back. There were at least ten men, weapons ablaze, chasing after them. Linus and the others caught on quick, and soon, they were outrunning the gunmen together in one, synchronized herd.

Mei, as Violet had seen before, flipped around in her saddle and began firing. Perhaps it was the darkness, or the ice on their fingers, but Mei’s shots didn’t land the way they should have. Fortunately, neither did their pursuers’. With a shrill whistle, Sitting Bear directed their horses to take a sharp right down a winding, woodland path. The trees were thin enough to shoot through, but plenty enough to slow the gunmen. Violet, not stupid enough to relax quite yet, scanned the area as they rode. While the men on their tail weren’t able to catch up, new men on horseback were closing in on either side. They continued to fire. Most bullets either hit a tree trunk or missed entirely. Their cover wouldn’t last long, Violet realized, and they were severely outnumbered. No cellars this time.

Violet began to pull on Maple’s reins, slowing her. Mei, righting herself on Huī’s saddle, noticed this. “What are you doin’?!” she exclaimed.

“I’ll draw ‘em off!”

“Violet, don’t—!”

“Y’all keep goin’! Get somewhere safe! I’ll catch up!” With that, Violet broke off from the others and sent Maple flying in an opposite direction. Navigating the trees herself was treacherous, and more than once, Maple nearly stumbled on wild roots and rotted stumps. While riding, Violet took out her pistol and fired, wildly, into the bulk of the gunmen. Not only that, but Violet made a point to fire above her, into the trees, where branches and bark rained down like snowfall, obscuring and disorienting the gunmen’s view and their horses.

When Violet clicked into an empty chamber, she holstered her gun and snatched a low, broken branch from a nearby tree. Heart pounding, Violet sent Maple flying right into the center of the men, laying low to the saddle and swinging the branch blindly. If she could cause enough havoc, the Railwalkers could make a clean get away. Violet only hoped that she didn’t die in the process.

Violet gave her branch a mighty swing, but it never landed. One of the gunmen grabbed her wrist and yanked her from the saddle. She hit the cold, hard ground without mercy, and for a moment, her eyes and ears didn’t function properly. When the ringing faded, and her blurry vision came to, Violet was looking up at the face of a man she didn’t think she’d ever see again.

“Hello, Violet,” said Sheriff Anderson. “How’s about we do this nice and easy?”

Chapter 14

The men employed by Sheriff Anderson were eight in total. Violet must have miscounted initially during their chase. There was Sheriff Anderson, his deputy Fredrick Marsh, and a pair of other men Violet recognized from Redrock, though she was hard pressed to recall their names. The three following them were total strangers, though their high quality coats hinted at government men, or at least men well paid. But it was the eighth man, wrapped in leather with his arm in a sling, who caught Violet’s attention most.

“I don’t like it,” said Mr. Hearst. “We stay longer than we should out here and they’re bound to be back.”

“We can’t risk the weather,” Sheriff Anderson replied. “We outnumber the Railwalkers, Marshal. If they come back, we’ll be ready.”

But Mr. Hearst grunted, and sat down next to the campfire in dissatisfaction. “That’s what my boys thought,” he growled. His dark eyes turned to Violet, who’d been staring at him the entire time. Mr. Hearst leaned back against his mess pack, picking at his teeth. “Surprised to see me again?” he asked. Violet was, but didn’t say so. “To be honest, I damn near thought y’all had gotten the job done. You sure did on the rest of ‘em, no question. Less than a minute, that’s how long it took y’all to murder my men. Funny how quickly life gets snubbed out, ain’t it?” Violet turned away. Her hands, numb from the cold, shifted against the scratchy rope that held them together. No doubt they’d tied her wrists tighter than they needed to. Violet almost couldn’t blame them.

“I think that’s enough, Hearst,” said Sheriff Anderson firmly. “Violet’s a good girl. Just a little mixed up is all.”

“‘Mixed up’ don’t account for the half score of dead men I had to send back home.”

Sheriff Anderson sighed, and scratched his peppered hair with frustration. “No,” he said, “it doesn’t.” Sheriff Anderson turned to Violet, quietly pleading for answers. “Violet, why don’t you talk to me ‘bout the Railwalkers? About what they had you do or not do? It won’t be easy, but you open up here, and I can vouch for you as a character witness in a court of law, providin’ that you help us track down your kidnappers.”

Mr. Hearst scoffed loudly, and uncapped a bottle of whiskey. For once, Violet shared the sentiment. “Character witness?” she repeated.

“Yes,” he said. “I can make sure the judge knows that your run-in with Munts was all a misunderstanding that got out of control. You help us bring in the rest and I’ll recommend a commuted sentence for you. Maybe even time served.” Violet stared at Sheriff Anderson. There was no bluff in his gaze. Shifting uncomfortably, he leaned in further. “Violet, there ain’t no easy way out, here. Your ma, she misses you so bad. Now I’m gonna need you to trust me—”

“Trust. Trust. Trust you, Sheriff? You was ready to hang me for somethin’ I didn’t do.”

“Now, Violet, I didn’t—”

“I heard you, Sheriff. I heard you talkin’ to Deputy Marsh.” Fredrick Marsh, who had stayed quiet for most of the evening, looked up. Violet stared at him dead in the eye. “Heard you both talkin’ bout what a judge was gonna do when he heard my story. Not a shred of faith, neither one of you. You were ready to let me swing and that’d be the end of it.”

Sheriff Anderson retraced his steps. “All right, I’ll be honest. You’re right.” Violet leaned back against a rock, satisfied yet even more furious. “But things are different now. Think of your family, your home.”

“A home ain’t a home if they’re ready to burn me the minute they smell a whiff of trouble. Ain’t no way in Hell I’m crawlin’ back to that damned town.”

“Violet, these Railwalkers are dangerous people. I don’t know what it is they told you, but they’re murderers. True, cold blooded, professional killers.”

Violet took a breath. Squaring her shoulders, she stared at Sheriff Anderson, unrelenting. “I know that,” she said. “And they’re worth more than twice you yella bellied candy asses all put together.” To drive her point home, Violet leaned forward and spat. It hit the fire directly, crackling for a split second, before falling back into its rhythm. Sheriff Anderson’s face fell, and he leaned back where he sat, defeated.

Hearst, meanwhile, stood from his own seat and pulled out a tin of tobacco from his inner pocket. “That’s good enough for me,” he told Anderson. Hearst sneered at Violet, packing his pipe with his one good hand. “By the grace of this United States government, I hereby claim jurisdiction over this case. And you, miss thing, are gonna be made an example of. What do you say, Andy? Public hangin’? Out in Washington? That oughtta stir up the presses.” He lit his pipe and took a deep puff. His eyes didn’t leave Violet’s, and hers returned the favor. “Enjoy your last Christmas on this Earth, Miss Donovan.” With that, he turned, and stepped away to enjoy his smoke.

Violet stayed awake for the rest of the night. She kept a keen eye on the men at hand, Hearst especially, and kept her senses sharp. One by one, the men dropped to sleep, in preparation for a long trip ahead of them. Violet focused on the cold wind to keep her alert, her mind running wild with plans of escape. Leaving in the night wasn’t much of an option; the men took turns watching her. She kept her eyes on the horizon. Perhaps a blizzard might separate them at the right moment? It was a gamble at best. She watched the moon trail from the center of the sky to a dip in the horizon. The campfire was dwindling to nothing, leaving only charred embers in its wake. Violet’s shivering was near uncontrollable, her cracked lips and frozen fingers keeping her fidgeting. But sometime in the early morning, Violet’s eyes grew heavy, and her head dipped, and she let the restlessness of sleep take hold.

She was roused seemingly two seconds later. It was still dark out, but in a way that indicated the coming of first light. Violet was dragged to her feet and sent walking before she had a chance to register who was what. The trek was long and arduous, with ice that tripped her up every so often. The other men rode their horses at a hearty trot on occasion, so as to force Violet to keep up. Maple was delegated to pack mule, rather than serve to carry Violet’s aching body. They walked until dinner time, where Violet was treated to a portion of sloppy beans and stale coffee. Violet could only dream about Linus’s game stew, or Rory’s fresh biscuits. To distract her from the bitter cold, she escaped into her mind. She returned to the hot days of the summer, when she and Mei would enjoy the cool desert breeze together, wrapped in each other’s arms in carnal splendor. Admittedly, Violet had hoped that if she stayed awake overnight, she’d spot the Railwalkers sneaking through the bushes to rescue her. Violet was foolish to think such a rescue would be that easy.

Sometime in the early afternoon, the lawmen posse came across a small outpost by a frozen lake. Violet was oddly grateful not to recognize it. Somehow, the idea of returning to a familiar town would make the experience all the more humiliating. Once arrived, Violet was taken to the Sheriff’s office, and set aside in a cold, bare cell while Hearst and Sheriff Anderson discussed further plans. The one grace Violet was granted was freedom from her binds. The scratchy rope left behind red, irritated circles around her wrists. Rubbing them, she cast her eyes beyond the cell. The Sheriff’s station was twofold; a back room with two empty cells (Violet excluded), covered mostly by sparse hay and frost, and a front, more presentable office space. Where the windows lacked glass, they instead had bars, and Violet could feel the sharp chill of the winter air leak through the cracks in the wooden logs. Through the doorway sat a cozier, front room. Nestled next to a roaring hearth, the men spoke there, enjoying a hot drink for their troubles.

Violet was just wondering where she could use the toilet when Fredrick Marsh stepped into the back, carrying a rolled-up newspaper under his arm. He awkwardly glanced at Violet, before averting his eyes to the floor. “Hello, Violet,” he said.

“Hello, Fred,” Violet replied. She watched as Deputy Marsh shifted from foot to foot, unsure of how to continue.

“I uh…” Deputy Marsh pulled out the newspaper and stared at it. “I brought you the paper. Thought it could keep you busy. I guess.” He edged closer to Violet’s cell, but didn’t offer it.

“That’s kind of you, Fred,” Violet responded. She held out her hand, and Deputy Marsh hesitated. Finally looking up, Violet saw an unmasked sadness in his eye. Perhaps even a hint of tears.

“Why didn’tchya just let Sheriff Andy help you, Vi?” Violet’s hand fell as Deputy Marsh clutched the paper tighter. “Back home…oh Lord, your ma. She’s beside herself with worry. And us, well…Sheriff Andy is mighty sore about how he did you wrong. We shoulda believed you from the start, honest we shoulda. There’s still time for us to help you outta this damn mess.” He choked on his next words, trying hard to keep his composure. His shoulders shook, and he tilted his head down. “I can’t stand to see you hung, Violet. None of us can.”

Violet let that hover. Pushing herself up from the floor, she approached the cell wall and leaned against the cold iron. She waited until finally gaining Deputy Marsh’s attention, and then reached her hand through the bars. “Thank you for the paper, Deputy.”

Deputy Marsh’s eyes welled with tears above his vivid, red cheeks. Defeated, he handed Violet the newspaper, and turned, violently wiping his nose on the cuff of his sleeve. Violet watched him go. With a deep sigh, she returned to the floor and flipped through the newsprint. There were a few local advertisements, some stories on the gold rush out west, the usual. Though was this usual these days? Violet hadn’t held a newspaper in well over a year, not that she read much of Redrock’s tiny printing house anyway. Violet was just about to close the paper when she spotted a story near the back. Fixated, she began to read:

BUSINESS MOGUL JACOB ABERNATHY DEWITT

TO CONTINUE CROSS CONTINENTAL RAILROAD

IN SAN FRANSISCO

Dec 12th, 1885—Reports have been confirmed that a Mr. Jacob Abernathy DeWitt Esq. has acquired the funding necessary to continue the DeWitt Railway. The impressive, multi-track rail-line has already made its mark everywhere from the urban sprawl of New York to the settlements of the Iowa and Nevada territories. The next stop for the DeWitt Railway will be the western coast, beginning with San Francisco. According to Mr. DeWitt, construction will go into effect on the first of May, 1886. Any persons looking for employment can contact Mr. DeWitt or his associates by sending a telegram to the address below.

Violet looked up past the paper, almost as if the men knew the vital information she had just discovered. But on they chatted, none the wiser. Still, Violet acted quickly. Tearing out the article in full, she folded it small and stuffed it down her shirt. Hearst and his men were liable to search her pockets before moving on, even though she spent her day in a cell.

“All right Miss Donovan.” Hearst announced his arrival as he approached Violet’s door, the ring of keys jingling in his gauzed-up hand. “Time to get a move on.”

“Think I can use the facilities before we take off?”

Hearst scoffed. “You think I’m that dense?” Looked like this was a no-bathroom break kind of journey. At least there were bushes…Taking the right key, Hearst unlocked her cell door and opened it wide. “Let’s make this easy.” Hearst escorted Violet out of the station and into the sharp chill of the afternoon. A stagecoach lingered out front, pulled by two horses. Before she was led inside, Sheriff Anderson approached Violet with a pair of hardy handcuffs. Keeping his eyes low, he laid the cold iron on her wrists, and locked them up tight. Violet winced, but didn’t dare complain.

“Sheriff,” she said quietly. Sheriff Anderson paused, but kept his gaze away. “Where’s Maple? Won’t nothin’ happen to her, will it?”

Sheriff Anderson sighed. “Your horse’ll be kept here over the winter. Once the snow thaws, she’ll more’n likely be repossessed by the government. Troops could always use more stallions.”

Violet’s heart wretched. “Oh no, Sheriff, no. Maple’s seen enough blood and suffering. If she’s gotta go somewhere, can’t you send her back home?” At first, Sheriff Anderson didn’t answer, so Violet took his arm with her chained hands, desperately. “Please, Sheriff. Please won’t you send her home to Mama? At least that way some part of me can…” Her words trailed off. Sheriff Anderson finally glanced Violet’s way. There was pain in his expression, one which cracked by the second.

“I’ll see what I can do.” With that, he turned away, and Violet was tossed into the stagecoach with no ceremony. She sat backwards, facing her new chauffeur. Fredrick Marsh sat opposite her, cradling a shotgun in his lap. His eyes were red and puffy, but he kept his shoulders straight. Through the window, Violet saw a few men, Hearst included, mount horses around the stagecoach. Violet smiled, bitterly.

“My my,” she said. “All this pomp and circumstance. I feel like a princess.”

Deputy Marsh’s brows knit darkly. “This all a laugh to you, Violet?” He shook his head. “Lord have mercy. Where’s that girl from back home?”

“Where? Oh, Fred. She’s right here.”

The horses jerked, the stagecoach jostled, and soon enough, they were off. The first few hours were dull and quiet. Neither Violet nor Deputy Marsh decided to make small talk. Violet tried closing her eyes, but the tousling of the cab left her woozy. She wondered how long it would take to get to Washington. Maybe she could send out a telegram if she got the chance. Madam Hen was the only one Violet could think of that she could contact to tell about Abernathy’s new location. While deep in thought, Violet wondered off-hand why she wasn’t more concerned about her own sorry state of affairs. Perhaps, she reasoned, she had come to terms with so many terrible things she had done, that the thought of an end to it wasn’t as nightmarish as before.

Back in Redrock, she was innocent, fully and completely. She had tried to escape the claws of a wretched man, and was instead pinned for his murder. Violet recalled the dread of learning her fate like that of a faraway dream. Where was the Violet that Fredrick Marsh knew back home? It would be nice to imagine that that girl was gone from this earth, remembered with fondness. But Violet could not deny that she had the same flesh, the same blood, the same heartbeat as the girl before. The grizzly man Simon, the men who followed Hearst, those were all lives taken by her hand. Not to mention the sorry state she had left Maddie’s husband in not long ago. Although that felt like less of a sin and more of a reward. At least that lowlife got to keep living.

“You believe in a heaven, Fred?”

It had been so long since they’d made a sound that Deputy Marsh had nearly dozed off if Violet hadn’t said something. He blinked, rubbed his eyes, and grunted, “Whut?”

“Heaven. You believe in it?”

“Course I do,” he said. His expression grew uncomfortable. “You…you wonderin’ if that’s where you’re headed?”

“Oh no,” Violet scoffed. “No, I’m past that, I think. When I swing, I know where I’m headed, if I’m headed anywhere at all.”

“If?”

“Sure, if. Not like anyone’s seen the damn place.”

“So you wonderin’ if it’s even there waiting for you? Hell, Vi, that’s called faith. Don’t tell me you lost that, too.”

“I still got faith. Loads of it. Just not in nothin’ that ain’t in front of me, I decided.”

“Well, what then?” Deputy Marsh crossed his arms, his rifle forgotten against his thighs. “If not in God, what’s there to have faith in?”

Violet trailed her eyes along the plain beyond the window. Snow layered the flat earth in uneven patches, where bare bushes and brambles struggled to live. Violet had opened her mouth to answer when she spotted something on the horizon. Small, at first, but growing bigger by the second. Her eyes lit up, and her heart beat quicker. If she dared to hope, to wish—

“Violet?” Deputy Marsh leaned forward in his seat. “You hear me when I asked you—?”

Wham! Without a moment’s hesitation, Violet cold-clocked poor Deputy Marsh across the face. Startled, he barely made a sound, and was too dazed to reach for his gun. Fortunately, Violet was not, and swiped it before he came to. When he shook off his stars, Deputy Marsh was staring down the barrel of his own rifle, as Violet kept him pinned to the floor with her heavy boot.

“Make a noise and you die,” she whispered. She jingled her cuffs. “The key.”

“I—I don’t—”

“The key, Fred.”

“I don’t got it! Honest! Hearst, he’s the only one with it.”

Shouts echoed from outside the cab. Gunshots followed suit. Deputy Marsh tried to make a break for it, but Violet slammed the butt of the rifle against his temple, and he passed out cold on the cab floor. The stagecoach jerked violently, and Violet tumbled into the seat. Righting herself, she looked out the window. To her great pleasure, she saw three distinct horse riders zigzagging their way through Hearst’s men. The Railwalkers had come to the rescue.

Two distinct thumps landed on the roof of the stagecoach. “Kill ‘em!” she heard Hearst shout. Violet cocked the rifle with one hand, and bracing it against her hip, fired directly up. Hearst screamed, and moved quick to the left door of the stagecoach. Before Violet could fire again, Hearst flung open the door and swung inside. “No, you don’t!” They struggled for the gun, Hearst’s own flailing wildly between them. “Not again, no ma’am!”

Again, the stagecoach lurched violently. Like corn in a hot kettle, Hearst and Violet were flung about, guns slipping from their hands. When the cab righted itself, Violet spotted a shiny, metal key just within arm’s reach. She lunged for it but was yanked away at the last second. Hearst, face red and chest heaving, turned her around and slammed his knuckles into her nose. The force was enough to send her head spinning, and blood gushed into Violet’s mouth. Hearst got in two more square hits before Violet managed to roll out from under him. In a dizzying move, Violet leapt onto Hearst’s back, wrapped her arms around his shoulders, and strangled him with the cuff chains. He spat and coughed, helplessly clawing at her hands and arms, but Violet held strong. When he no longer struggled, Violet let him go. It was hard to say if he was breathing.

Aching and woozy, Violet swiped the key from the ground and undid her cuffs. They clanked to the floor, and Violet gathered up both Deputy Marsh’s rifle in one hand, and pocketed Hearst’s handgun in her jeans. She wiped the blood with the back of her sleeve and peeked out the window. It took a moment for Violet to get her bearings, but once she did, she took Deputy Marsh’s rifle and thrust it into the glass of the cab door. It shattered easily, and Violet steadied the barrel of the gun on the jagged edge of the window sill. Focusing, she spotted one of Hearst’s men riding through the dust storm. He was firing aimlessly back at one of the Railwalkers, who rode in an elegant, swinging pattern to avoid his bullets. Violet braced the butt of the gun to her shoulder, took a steadying breath, and fired. The first two shots missed, but the third hit its target. The rider’s horse whinnied and collapsed, taking the saddled man with it. Now, with the left side of the carriage clear, Violet swung open the cab door and threw her arms onto the roof.

The driver was frantic, pulling and whipping the two horses with no clear direction. Violet heaved herself onto the roof just as the driver glanced behind him. In a wild tousle of arms, Violet managed to toss the driver off the side of the carriage, and take his place. Facing backwards, Violet went to fire Deputy Marsh’s rifle, but found it empty. Discarding the useless gun, she opted for Hearst’s piece. Bracing it with both hands, Violet took aim and fired five distinct times. One hit another horse, two hit shoulders, the third hit a man square in the chest, the fourth missed, and the last sent the final rider flying by his skull. Between her shooting, and the Railwalkers’ flanking, every man was down by the time Violet lowered her gun.

Satisfied, Violet righted herself in the driver’s seat and took the reins. Mei, Linus, and Sitting Bear rode up beside her, their horses keeping pace with the spooked carriage mares. Violet leaned towards Mei to speak. “Two men still inside!” she shouted.

“Then let’s deal with ‘em!” Mei replied. “Hya!” With a kick to Huī’s ribs, Mei took the lead, and the Railwalkers escorted the carriage down a hill and around a bend. Once the danger was behind them, they slowed their horses to a light trot, until finally satisfied with the distance put between them and anyone who might have survived the ambush. Slowing the cartage to a halt, Violet hopped off the seat and opened the door.

“Alright,” she said, “which one of you’s still alive?”

From inside the cab, the two men were thrown about the floor, useless as tits on a bull. Deputy Marsh was the first to lift his head. Violet reached in and tipped Hearst to his side. He wasn’t responsive, but at least he was breathing. Satisfied for now, Violet shut the door and addressed the Railwalkers.

“The marshal from before,” she said. “He survived.” She nodded towards the door. “Still kickin’, after all that.”

“Must be one stubborn son of a bitch,” said Linus.

“And if he walks today, he’ll probably try again.”

The others nodded, and Mei took her shoulders. “This is your call, Violet. Whatever you choose, we stand behind you.”

Violet smiled briefly. She faced the door again. There was more evidence of movement within. She held Hearst’s gun in her palm. Flipping open the chamber, she looked inside. One bullet left. She snapped it closed. Gun in hand, she swung open the door. “Out. Both of ya.” The two men tumbled to the cold ground like molasses. Deputy Marsh barely had the balance to crawl and ended slumped to his side in a pile of muddy sleet. Hearst was a little more put together. Falling from the cab, he sat himself on his knees, and managed to keep himself upright. Silence passed.

“Well?” Hearst demanded.

Violet took a few more moments. Turning her head to the side, she spat. Hot blood fell into the snow, steaming as it hit. Squaring her shoulders, she rested her weight on one side, hand on her hip. The gun remained firmly in her grasp. “I guess I have a decision to make.”

“Put away the big talkin’,” Hearst grunted. “If you’re gonna kill us, do it. It’s too damn cold to stay out here much longer.”

Deputy Marsh, still reeling from the carriage ride, shifted up as best he could. His face was red and his nose was bloodied. “Vi…Please. Don’t do this. It ain’t you.”

“You’re right. It ain’t me. That’s why y’all are gonna make this just a little bit easier. Mr. Hearst?” Hearst shifted slightly, but kept his eyes away. “There was a rock slide here today. A pretty nasty one, at that. Took out most of your men, and the prisoner you was carting back to Washington.” Violet knelt to Hearst’s level, and the two locked eyes. “One of us has to die, Marshal. If you let me go, I let you live.” Violet held out her free hand. “Do we have a deal?”

Hearst swayed, his cracked lips twisting into a bitter smile of surrender. Violet was ready to take her hand away when Hearst reached up and shook it. “I see you again, Miss Donovan, and I shoot you on sight.”

“That goes double. Let’s not let it come to that.” Violet stood and turned now to Deputy Marsh. “Fred, go home. Stay there. Keep an eye on Mama and Charlie for me, and for God’s sake don’t let ‘em know about this.”

Deputy Marsh wiped his bloody, snotty nose with his coat sleeve, his eyes puffy and red. “How can I look ‘em in the eye—?”

“Don’t,” said Violet. “Don’t say nothin’ if you can’t. But visit if you can. Make sure Mama’s eatin’ right, make sure Charlie’s well cared for.” There was a telling pause between them, after which Deputy Marsh pushed himself to his feet. There were no more parting words to spare as the two men righted the reins on the carriage, and Hearst took the driver’s seat. Violet unhooked one of the horses for her own use, and with that, they went their separate ways. The rest of the day rolled on like a fog. The fire that had burned her into action had now doused into smoldering ash, leaving her fatigued and empty headed. They traveled east until reaching a small, abandoned cabin where Rory and Sweetpea waited safely for their return. With the sun setting in the distance, they struck up the hearth and tucked in for the night.

“Where’s it hurt?” Mei asked.

“Hell, I dunno if it does anymore. I can’t feel much on my face.”

Bundled into their nest of furs, Mei sat up and examined Violet’s broken nose. “The bleeding’s done, anyhow. But boy, did they get you good on this one. It’s gonna heal crooked, no doubt.”

Violet smirked. “Am I still pretty with a crooked nose?”

Mei smiled and kissed her head. “It’ll be the prettiest crook in any nose west of the Mississippi.” Taking a rag, Mei dipped it in water and washed a bit of dried blood from Violet’s lips. Her smile faded. “We never should have let you run off like that. We got lucky now, but what if they decided to just—?”

Violet took Mei’s hand with both of her own. “It was my choice to go. I couldn’t let them catch up with you, especially not when we got Rory with us.” Still, Mei was uneasy, and she turned away.

“But I thought I’d lost you, Violet.”

Violet’s heart panged. In the flicker of the firelight, she could see sleepless rings beneath Mei’s warm, dark eyes. Violet took up Mei’s cold hand again and laid it against her cheek. “I’m here, Mei. I’m here and I ain’t goin’ nowhere else.”

They embraced for a long while. Against the chill soaking through the log walls, it was as though survival itself was found between their arms. Drowsiness was overcoming Violet, and she shifted, when she heard a shuffling inside her shirt. “Oh!” She pulled out the ripped news article and held it for Mei to see. “Here. I grabbed this for ya.”

Mei took it, curiously, and read its contents. Her eyes widened, and hardened just as quickly. Her brow drew dark, as new purpose flooded them. “San Francisco, huh?” She folded the article and tucked it into her pocket. “Thank you, Violet.

“Looks like we got our heading.”

* * * *

By the time they reached Grammy’s property, the weather had taken a severe turn for the worse. What was once a few half inches of sleet, began to grow into feet of snow. Rather than try and camp in the freezing cold, the Railwalkers kept torches lit for warmth, and soldiered on through the night, with only a small, dented compass to guide them. Thankfully, it took less than two days to reach their destination, and when Sitting Bear pointed out smoke coming from a cobble stone chimney, they did everything but drop to their feet and full run for the front door. The property was tucked away into a snowy hillside, surrounded by thick pine trees, all covered with ice. While it was difficult to make out the details through the blustering wind, Violet noted two distinct buildings: a single log cabin, and a larger barn behind it. The property was less than a few acres as a whole, encircled by a rotting post fence, bitten by frost.

Mei and Violet dismounted at the front porch, and the boys led their stallions towards the barn. Without so much as a knock, Mei walked Violet inside. Immediately, a wash of warmth hit Violet, and she felt herself melting beneath her icy jacket. The cabin was a one-room home, complete with kitchen table and single bed. A few animal pelts decorated the mantel of the fireplace, and some copper-bottomed pans piled up on top of a rickety chest of drawers. A pair of bright, red long-john underwear laid out on a chair, drying from the weather.

“Whossit?” A crotchety old voice squawked from beside the potbelly stove in the corner. An old woman, nearing her sixties, shuffled forward. She was hunched over dramatically, with a woven shawl on her round shoulders. She seemed to lack any and all teeth, and there was a sprout of hair resting on a large mole on her chin.

“It’s Mei, Grammy.”

“Who?”

“Mei.”

“Who?”

“Mei.”

“No. It’s December.”

Grammy edged closer. Looking at her further, Violet was sure there was nothing on her body that was even. She slanted to her left while she stood, and kept her right arm close and cocked. Even her eyes were different sizes. While the left one was a perfectly normal, brown eye, the right was just a few hairs larger, and milky white.

“Oooh!” Grammy suddenly recalled. “Mei! Come, come, ‘fore you catch cold in this accursed weather.” Her voice twanged with an accent Violet had never heard before, but delighted in. Grammy caught sight of Violet and squinted. “Who this now?”

“This is Violet.”

“She can spit?”

“No, Vi-o-let.”

“No thank you, m’dear, I prefer pansies.”

The door opened and a rush of cold air nipped at Violet’s behind. The boys stepped in, happy to be out of the cold. Grammy addressed them all in her same fashion, and she went back to the stove. “Come on in, soup just got put on.”

“Grammy!”

“Whassat?”

Rushing from the door, Rory latched onto Grammy’s midsection, nearly toppling her over. Startled, she only noticed him after scanning the whole cabin. Her face lit up like a firefly, and she crouched lower, squeezing Rory half to death. “Oh, me wee knacker!” Rory giggled as Grammy showered him in kisses. “Look how big you got! Nearly a foot taller now.” With all the pleasantries dispensed, the Railwalkers made themselves at home around her tiny kitchen table, and soon, each had a bowl of hot soup to share. It wasn’t much more than watery broth with half cooked carrots, but it warmed Violet to the core, and filled her belly with something other than stale biscuits.

“Didn’ know you lot was comin’,” Grammy muttered, blowing on her shaky, wooden spoon of soup. “Woulda made more.”

“Don’t you fret,” said Linus. “Once this storm blows over, we’ll make a run to town.”

Grammy snorted into her bowl. “No, no, no. You wait till this storm lets up, Linus. Then you can go to town.”

Linus only smiled. “Of course, Grammy.”

Once she’d gotten to the bottom of her bowl, Violet slurped the rest from the side. Hardly good table manners, but she was too hungry and too cold to care. Setting the empty dish down, she leaned back in her chair and pat her belly. “So Mei, how’re we all gonna fit in this tiny place? We’re barely fittin’ in here now.”

“We don’t,” said Mei. “Grammy lets us stay in her barn out back.”

Violet’s good spirits fell. “The barn? In this cold? We’ll all freeze to death!”

“Not this barn,” Linus chimed in. “When we first met Grammy, this property was little more than a square of land and a few empty houses. The first winter here, we made a few adjustments. There ain’t nowhere I’d rather be in this weather.”

“How did y’all meet anyway?” Violet asked. “Madam Hen I can understand, but how’d you get to know a lil’ old lady out in the middle of nowhere?”

“Eh? Whassat?” Grammy looked up from her soup, squinting to listen better. “You wanna know where to hunt hares?”

Rory was the next to speak. “Grammy was the one who found me!” he said proudly. He turned to Grammy with an expectant smile. “You remember that, donchya?”

“Remember what?”

Rory took her hand with his and leaned in, grinning from ear to ear. “Back when you found me. Back on the train.”

A light came to Grammy’s good eye, and a warm expression bloomed on her face. “Ohh…My wee abandon. Yes, yes. On the train.” She smiled widely, closing her eyes as she retold the story. “It was raining, that I know. I’d been comin’ from me sweet Hubert’s wake. Last of me boys to be put in the ground. His dear wife wanted to escort me home, but no, no.” She gently pounded her fist on the table. “I says to her, I says, ‘I’ve lasted this long without me beloved Conner, I can last a little longer.’ Besides, she’s got them little ones to look out for. So I board the train, all alone, listening to the rain. And then I hears it, the sound of some langer shoutin’ at the top of his lungs! And here I see this poor lil’ boyo runnin’ down the aisle for dear life, bein’ chased by the conductor. Right knob, he was. Sos I get out from my seat and I stands there and I holler.” Grammy puffed out her chest and pointed into the air. “‘You leave this little one be, or I swear to the Good Lord I’ll split ya right down the middle.’“ Grammy grinned, flashing her one good tooth near the back of her mouth. “Kept him with me the whole way.”

“We’d met Grammy earlier that year,” Mei filled in. “Did a job in town, needed a place to stay. Weather was getting bad. And here she comes with this little four year old child, barely fed, can hardly talk.” Mei looked over to Sitting Bear, smiling sweetly. “It was Bear here who offered to take Rory with us. Me and Linus, we didn’t object.”

Sitting Bear finished his last spoonful of soup and rested his hands in his lap. “No child should be left to suffer. We could protect him, feed him. I could teach him to survive.”

Linus wiped his mouth with a threadbare napkin. “And now every winter, we make it back here to keep Grammy company, keep her well stocked, and spend Christmas together.”

Grammy leaned down to kiss Rory on the head, still beaming from the memory of their first meeting. The thought of this frail little old woman barking at a train official probably twice her size certainly put a smile on Violet’s face. “I woulda loved to see that. You must be a fiery old badger, ain’tchya?”

“A wha?” Grammy looked up. “You say you need a pastor, dear?”

The table burst into laughter.

When supper was over, the Railwalkers headed out towards the back barn. Immediately, Violet noticed its size. There were sections on the outer walls that looked newer than the rest, and near the back was a tin smokestack, its cone top covered with snow. Opening the barn doors, Violet got a better look of the inside. The horses were kept to the right in individual stables, each one covered in thick blankets. A firepit sat tucked away in the left corner, encased by tin walls. Sitting Bear, who grabbed a few logs from Grammy’s cabin, immediately went to get the fire started. There were three beds, stuffed with hay and layered with dust, an empty ice box, some unused kitchen plates, and a rickety old table in the center. Oil lamps surrounded the living area, and the floor had a healthy layer of crunchy hay beneath their feet. It was the most unusual barn Violet had the pleasure to see.

“Barn might not be so bad after all, would it?” Linus teased. He put his hands on his hips and observed the space proudly. “Place was a shell when we first found Grammy. Not so much as a chicken on the grounds. When her husband was alive, he kept the property running smooth. But since he passed, Grammy hasn’t been able to keep anything alive on her own. Took us all fall to get this place to where it is now.”

Violet stepped further in, admiring their handiwork. “It’s mighty fine, Linus. Mighty fine.” She paused at the horse stables and looked on. Sweetpea was busy rubbing her hind quarters against the side of her stall, and Huī was already getting some well-deserved shuteye. Violet’s smile faded as she ran her fingers down Huī’s course, black mane. Her heart ached. “Maple…They told me they was gonna make Maple a military horse. I can’t stand the thought. She’s gone through so much…” Now overwhelmed with grief, Violet reached out and embraced Huī’s thick neck. It was so much bigger than Maple’s. After a moment, a soft hand laid itself on Violet’s shoulder. Linus smiled gently.

“Why don’t we all get some rest? It’s been a long trip.” Violet nodded, wiping the hot tears from her eyes. Blankets were divvied up, and the five of them curled into their respective beds; Linus and Rory took the front right, with Sitting Bear in the bed beside them, while Mei and Violet took the left by the fire. The minute Violet’s head hit the pillow, sleep overcame her like a wave, and she fell into a deep, embracing blackness.

When Violet awoke, she did so to an empty bed. The chill of the morning had her locked beneath her wool blankets, but once she was able, Violet got out of bed and looked around the barn. Mei was gone, as was Huī. The others were just starting to rise as well, and Sitting Bear went to the fire pit to start fresh logs for the day.

“Where’s Mei?” Violet asked.

The others glanced around, as if expecting to find her. Linus shook his head. “No idea. You didn’t hear her leave?” Violet hadn’t heard anything. “Well, more’n likely she’s off on her own and she’ll be back before too long.” Violet frowned but accepted it. There was so much about Mei that was a mystery to her, even now. Violet recalled the news clipping, and as wild a theory as it might have been, Violet hoped Mei hadn’t gone off to the west all on her own.

Breakfast was hot porridge and dried fruits. The storm was well over now, and left in its wake was clear sunshine and fresh, powdered snow. It was beautiful to look at, and reminded Violet of the sweet sugar cake she’d had one New Years. After socializing with Grammy, Linus and Violet packed up for town, leaving Sitting Bear and Rory to tend to the fire. Town wasn’t too far away; perhaps two miles south of Grammy’s property. It consisted of a postal office, general store, a few homes, a church, and a school yard, currently abandoned.

“We’ll head to the Wells Fargo first,” Linus said. Their horses kept a slow, even pace towards the west end of the town, where the office sat waiting. “I didn’t know if you wanted to send anything home or not.”

Violet shook her head. “No…After all that, I think it’s best if I said goodbye.” Her heart sunk at the prospect, but she kept herself together. The horse she rode, the one taken from the stage coach, jostled slightly, as if protesting the cold. Violet shifted in its saddle and tightened her hands on the reins. “Maybe I’ll see ‘em again. Hopefully.” Violet turned to Linus. “You ever see your family?”

Linus smiled sadly and shook his head. “I’m afraid we’re in the same predicament, Violet. Oh, Mama would be happy to see me, that’s for sure, but I doubt the white folks in our town would be so pleased to see me come back.” His smile grew bitter and he straightened his shoulders. “Specially after the mayor’s daughter was caught lovin’ on me.”

Violet whistled lowly. “Boy howdy, you sure are a regular Casanova, ain’tchya? I wonder what Madam Hen thinks of your wily ways?”

Linus, while looking rather pleased at the nickname, suddenly grew soft, and his smile warmer. “Ah. She knows I’m a one-woman man these days. I don’t think she worries much.”

“Now I’m curious.” Violet leaned forward on her saddle horn. “How’d ya’ll even meet her? I felt like you never got a chance to elaborate down south…”

“I s’pose not,” said Linus. “It was just me and Mei in those days. Back then, we were barely scrapin’ by. That whole bit about bein’ fur traders, that ain’t all fiction. We trapped what we could and sold skin to keep our bellies fed. We were just south of the Rio Grande when we got caught up in one beast of a wind storm.” Linus let out a low whistle. “I tell you. This thing whipped us up and down. You never felt sand so sharp. We made for the closest building we saw. Just so happened to be a saloon with Henny and her men, sortin’ out some kinda land deal. We got to talkin’, talkin’ got to drinkin’, and she offered us a place to stay to wait out the storm. Well, a few days turned into a few weeks, turned into all summer long. We helped at the Bone House before it even was that. Some of her gauchos helped me with my shootin’ arm. Henny even taught me a lick or two of Spanish.” His eyes glazed over, twinkling at the memory. “She’s a fine woman. A real fine woman. Heart of a lion.”

Violet smiled, and nudged Linus’s foot with her own, still in the stirrup. They laughed together, pausing only to dismount and enter the post office. After Linus sent off his letters, they made their second stop: the grocer’s. Violet made herself useful by carrying the bulk of Linus’s items while he gathered them from a withered list in his hand. About halfway through the canned beans, Linus paused and turned to her, curiously. “You don’t need me to hold any of that?”

“What? Oh.” Violet hadn’t noticed just how much she was carrying. Along with a sack of wheat flour on her shoulder, Violet carried a tin of tobacco, bag of rice, can of sugar, a basket of eggs, a bundle of beets, three sheets of dried meat, and at least two pounds of coffee beans. “Honest, I didn’t even notice.”

Linus chuckled. “Maybe we’ll have you throwin’ hay bales next.”

Violet answered with a snort. “I guess I have gotten a little stronger these days.”

“You guess.” Linus grabbed a hefty can of beans and laid it on top of Violet’s load. She barely budged. Linus turned back to his list and kept moving.

“Linus?” An unfamiliar voice caught their attention. A man, in his early thirties, stood at the counter, purchasing syrups. He was tall and lanky, with big, bushy chops on either side of his face. His spectacles, smaller than Linus’s, sat pinched on the top of his beaky nose. His clothes were well made, but hardly flashy. He smiled, revealing a sizable gap between his two front teeth. “Well, it is a Merry Christmas after all.”

Linus approached the man and gave him a hearty embrace. “Victor! Good to see you, friend.”

“Visiting Mrs. O’Grady?”

“Yessir. How’s she doing, doc?”

“Oh, as well as ever, I’m happy to report. I saw her just last Tuesday. Still fit as a fiddle.”

Violet approached, but politely remained silent, though not for long. Linus perked up. “Oh, Victor, this is Violet. Met her this past spring, brought her along with us. Vi, this here’s Dr. Victor Fredrickson.”

Violet smiled coyly. “Not ‘Frankenstein’?”

Victor took the joke in good spirits and wiped his spectacles with his pocket handkerchief. “Not any more, thanks to Miss Shelly,” he teased. He put his glasses back on and held out his hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet—oh.” He retracted it, noticing Violet’s groceries piled onto her arms. “My goodness.”

“Oh, here.” Violet juggled a few goods, hoisted the bulk onto her flour sack, and held out her hand for a proper shake. When they shook, Victor seemed even more taken with her grip, which was quite possibly firmer than she’d meant it to be. He even rubbed his hand afterwards. “The pleasure’s all mine, Dr. Fredrickson.”

Victor turned to Linus expectantly. “I should let you get back to it. But if you’re so inclined, you and yours are always welcome for Christmas dinner.”

“Of course, Doc.” With that, Victor paid for his syrups, bundled them beneath his coat, and headed out into the snow. Linus loaded the groceries onto the counter, and the clerk began to ring them at the register. “That’s another good one. Keeps an eye on Grammy when we can’t.”

“And he knows about…?” Violet glanced at the clerk, who was too busy making notes in his books. “What y’all do?”

“Knows about it?” Linus chuckled. “Hell. He was the one we were on the job for.” Linus added a few bits of sugar candy onto the counter, no doubt for Rory, and took out his money clip to pay. “Ol’ Victor’s a dude from the east. New Jersey, I think. Had a bit of a gambling debt follow him out here. He owed some pretty nasty people.” When the shop clerk finished the transaction, Linus and Violet gathered up their things and headed back outside. Opening up their saddle bags, they loaded up their groceries. “We found him one night, beaten within an inch of his life. So, we did him the favor.”

Violet frowned, hesitating before swinging up into her saddle. “Gambling debt?” she repeated. Ignoring the fact that the soft spoken Dr. Fredrickson didn’t seem like the kind of man to gamble, the reason struck Violet as odd. “That don’t usually seem the type you do favors for.”

Linus swung into his stirrups and straightened his derby. “No. I guess it don’t.” With a click of his teeth, Ginger began back towards Grammy’s property.

For the next two days, Mei remained absent on the farm. Violet tried questioning the others, if by chance she had told them where she was off to, perhaps even in passing. But no one seemed to know where she’d gone. The weather, at least, was warm enough to keep Violet from fearing the worst, but there was still so much that could happen out of sight of the Railwalkers. Had Hearst’s men doubled back, and crossed paths with Mei? Or perhaps bandits, or wild animals, had gotten to her when she wasn’t watching carefully. Violet did her best to expel these anxieties, but the harder she tried, the faster they came. She had gone to bed on the third night, deciding that, if Mei did not return, Violet would go out herself to search for her.

But Violet never left the farm. She awoke on the third morning, ready and able to do so. She readied her horse, packed a few dried preserves, and walked it out of the barn and into the winter sunshine. Before she could mount her saddle, the crunch of snow drew her eye, and she spotted two horses approaching her at a healthy trot. Violet squinted, the reflection of the powder white ice rather blinding, but when her eyes adjusted, she was swept away by a great thrill of joy.

“Maple…Maple!” Violet took off running. The horse on the left did the same, and within moments, Violet had her arms locked around Maple’s thick, cream neck. She laughed and sobbed, her knees weak with happiness. “Maple! Maple, I got you back! You’re back!” Maple whinnied and bobbed her head, unable to keep still. Violet, tears in her eyes, looked up to see Mei, saddled up, and smiling down at her. Violet was at a loss for words.

“You mentioned they’d be keepin’ her in the same place till winter thawed.” Mei slipped from the saddle and stuck her thumbs through her belt loops. “That town wasn’t a long ride, so I figured—” Mei never got a chance to finish. In a single leap, Violet barreled into her in a flurry of kisses, and sent them both down into the icy soft snow.

Chapter 15

Christmas came on a beautiful, sunny day that year. Although the world around them was frozen to the bone, the air seemed warmer, somehow, than it should have been. After their coffee, they went to Grammy’s house and were greeted by the welcoming smell of fresh flapjacks. The final pile of cakes was so massive, Violet could hardly tell the color of the table cloth beneath their plates. Along with their hotcakes, there was fresh butter and cold milk, and a small jug of molasses. Sitting Bear had to stop Rory’s pouring before he emptied half the jug on his breakfast. They ate and talked, and reveled in Grammy’s fine cooking. No doubt she’d been up since dawn to make enough for the lot of them. By the time Violet was done, her belly was bursting at the seams.

“Now after yas wash up, I want ya in yer Sunday best,” Grammy said, concluding their meal. “No excuses, hear me?”

“Sunday best?” Violet clarified. “But we ain’t got no Sunday best.”

“Whassat?”

“I said, we ain’t got no Sunday best.”

“Whaddya mean, you want a blue jay nest?”

Mei answered instead. “Don’t worry. You can wear a potato sack and Grammy won’t notice much.”

“But where are we headed? Surely not church?” The weary smiles of the Railwalkers were all Violet needed for confirmation.

“It’s for Grammy’s sake,” Linus added. “It’s tradition. Besides, you try telling her no.”

Violet opened her mouth to protest, but realized Linus had a point. Still, there was an uncomfortable churn in her stomach at the thought of going back to Sunday mass. It was a part of her she thought she had left behind back in Redrock. Granted, it wasn’t as though her mother was there waiting for her, but ever since her solitary visit to that chapel some months ago, she didn’t think she’d find herself in one again. After helping with the dishes, they walked together into town. It was faster to go on horseback, but Grammy insisted that walks “kept her young.” The view of the silvery snow in the sunlight was enough to excuse the inconvenience.

The tiny main street, its road covered in muddy ice, was a buzz with townsfolk, heading to the church at the end of the stretch. Children, bundled in warm winter wool, ran in circles around their parents, throwing snowballs wildly. Rory was quickly drawn into the scene, and the Railwalkers watched as their youngest flung himself into a heap of fresh snow, dodging a spray of oncoming sleet.

“Good morning, Mrs. O’Grady.” Victor approached the group with a warm smile, his neck bundled with a shoddy old scarf. “Merry Christmas.”

“Oh, Dr. Victor!” Grammy grinned and took his arm in greeting. “A happy Christmas t’ya, m’son. Wouldja walk’n old woman to the church?”

“Of course, Mrs. O’Grady.” Victor escorted her as any gentleman would, and they continued towards the church. “It’s going to be a fine Christmas, I think. Will you be joining me for supper tonight?”

“Wouldn’ miss’t fer the world.”

The shadow of the church stretched over them as they entered the threshold. Violet paused at the door. Outside, the blinding light nearly washed away the inner domain of the holy place, giving her all the more reason to pause. Mei, noticing Violet’s hesitation, approached her.

“Violet?”

Violet shook her head. “It’s stupid, really. I guess…well, I guess it makes sense to feel judged in a place like this, don’t it?”

Mei didn’t push further; by the look in her eye, she understood. Mei turned back around and watched as the boys took their seats near the front of the congregation. No doubt Grammy liked to be close to the preacher. Mei returned to Violet, and gently took her hand. “Why not take a step in for a moment or two? And if ya don’t like it, we’ll step out. Grammy won’t even notice.”

A weight shifted from Violet’s shoulders, and she smiled, accepting the deal. Hand in hand, the two walked inside, and Violet’s eyes adjusted to the dimness. It was an ordinary chapel, the same as any. The pews were simple and filled quickly by the townspeople. Families sat together, coaxing their young ones to sit still. Some mothers were busy wiping the dirt of their children’s faces. Rory, now filthy as a piglet, found the others quickly, and took his seat right next to Grammy. She wrapped her arm around Rory like any mother would. Violet’s anxieties aside, it was a tender sight.

“Good morning.” A soft voice floated from the front of the congregation. An older man, perhaps in his forties, reached the podium. He was gentle eyed, and slightly hunched, with crow’s feet branching out on either side of his round face. “Please, be seated.” Those who were standing found a seat, and Violet and Mei stayed put. “I welcome you, one and all, on this beautiful Christmas morning. Winter has always been a time of harshness. Crops die, soil stiffens. The world around us slumbers beneath a blanket of icy white. And yet, I feel nothing but warmth around me today. Brought together under the grace of Our Lord God, we must remain ever thankful for the family that surrounds us.

“It is in man’s nature to hate. Not long ago, we saw our brothers die in a war which took hope from our mothers’ very bosoms. And yet, it is in man’s nature to love, as well. Look here. Around you.” The preacher raised his hand and encouraged the congregation to observe the room. Violet’s hand squeezed Mei’s, gently. “These, these people are your neighbors. Your family. Your lovers. As it is in man’s nature to destroy, so too is it in his nature to nurture and grow. And in the time when all seems darkest, I must urge you to remember your neighbor’s faces. For even against winter’s coldest wind, the strength and love of your community can plant the most stubborn of seed, and will it to bloom by the love of brotherhood in faith. Amen.”

“Amen,” the crowd echoed softly.

“Let us pray.”

Violet decided to stay after that. She recalled Redrock’s preacher being a rather vindictive man. Often, he talked at length about the punishment of sinners and the need to repent or face hellfire. But this man spoke softly, and with a fondness for the small gathering of townsfolk he lectured. There was laughter, and peace, and a few gentle songs, and then, church was dismissed for Christmas festivities. Admittedly, Violet couldn’t recall a Sunday mass that left her with such a warm feeling by the end of it.

“Let’s be off,” Victor announced as they exited. “That goose has been roasting all morning. Any longer and it’ll dry out.”

“So kind’o’ye to n’vite us for supper, sweet boy,” Grammy swooned. “The highlight of m’year.”

Victor shook his head. “It’s no trouble at all, Mrs. O’Grady. Like the vicar said; we are all family on Christmas, aren’t we?” Turning a corner, Victor led the group to a small cottage behind the general store. Inside, the warm light of an oven invited them closer, and the smell of roasted meat made Violet salivate. Victor held the door open for the lot of them, and they stepped inside.

The first thing Violet noticed was that Victor’s home was smartly furnished. It was three rooms: a parlor, kitchen, and bedroom. It wasn’t exactly the Donovan estate, but its size felt rather absurd for a bachelor. The parlor was dressed with a plush carpet and framed portraits. A fire roared in the hearth, and a table with porcelain placings took center stage. In the kitchen, Violet saw the glimpse of a fat, pot-bellied stove, cooking the Christmas goose behind its grated door. Once they were in and their boots and coats were off, Victor broke out a crystal decanter of wine, and they toasted to the new year.

These would soon be Violet’s greatest memories. They drank and laughed and filled the air with stories of adventure and mishap. When they ate, they ate to their stomachs’ content, and then some. Candied fruits, roasted goose, potatoes and carrots, all accompanied with hot gravy. Violet strained to remember the last time she ate so well, even when thinking of Charlie’s cooking. They played party games, and Victor danced a jig to Linus’s mouth harp. By the time the air had settled, the world was dark, and the fire in the pit had grown low and mellow. Sitting Bear, slumped in a velvet armchair, snored softly. Rory and Linus were snuggled up on top of him, the three like a cluster of feral cats. Grammy was fast asleep as well, her mouth hanging open like a fresh caught fish. Violet, Mei, and Victor spent their evening speaking softly over the last of the Christmas wine.

“…so that’s when I decided,” Violet said. “I knew if I stayed, I’d be got up by the law, and if I left on my own, I’d be got by somethin’ worse. But if I knew how to handle myself, at least whatever tried to get after me would have to work for it.”

Victor whistled lowly. “I can’t imagine…It must have been so hard for you, leaving so abruptly like that. And your poor mother…”

“There’s so much I wish I could do. To tell her I’m all right. But that ain’t in the cards these days.”

“Why’s that?”

“We had a run-in with one of Violet’s lawmen,” Mei explained. “If she was gonna get out alive, well…I guess you could say she needed to die.”

Victor nodded wisely. “Mm. I see. It’s not easy, living the life of a dead man. I would know.”

“Would you?” Violet asked.

“Oh yes. I’ve had to play the part several times over my life.”

“Linus said you had a pretty big gambling debt. That true?”

Victor smiled and polished off his wine. “Mostly.”

“What’s mostly?”

Victor and Mei glanced at one another. Victor’s smile remained. “I did have a gambling debt. I owed many terrible people far too much money. Under normal circumstances, I doubt Mei would have helped me at all.”

“It’s true,” Mei agreed. “We don’t handle these kinds’a personal matters.”

“So what changed your mind, Mei?”

“Well,” Mei began, stretching her arms. One of them landed around Violet’s shoulders, comfortable as can be. “We found out we had somethin’ in common, ol’ Victor and I.”

“I was never very fond of the fairer sex,” Victor explained. “As a matter of fact, these terrible people I owed money to, it was only half the reason they wanted to see my head on a platter. The other half had to do with the man’s son, of whom I was very acquainted, if I may be so delicate.”

“I’d met whores who’d let me pay ‘em,” Mei added, “but never someone quite like me. We were different, and we knew that of each other almost at once. It was…” Mei gestured vaguely in front of her. “Well, it’s hard to put to words. Made me want to help him. So we did what we could.”

“Please, don’t be modest, Mei. You made a man twice your size damn near piss himself.”

Mei laughed. “I guess I did, didn’t I?”

Victor took out an old tin, and removed an ash wood pipe and a bundle of dried tobacco. Stuffing it full, he struck a match and lit it, and offered a smoke to Mei. “Well, I think it’s about that time.” Victor smiled at the others, still all fast asleep around them. “There isn’t much space here. Why don’t you two take my bed?”

“What about you?” Violet asked.

“Oh no,” said Victor, “I’ve got quite a few hours left in me. I’ll stay out here.”

With one last meager protest, Violet and Mei retired to Victor’s bedroom. Far smaller than the rest of the cottage, it consisted of a mattress and wardrobe, with a single oil lamp for light. The two women crawled beneath the sheets, their arms intertwined between them. As Violet drifted off, she was comforted by the warmth in her belly, and the feel of her lover’s breath against her knuckles.

* * * *

It started with a fever. A few days after Christmas, Rory played in the fresh snow with some of the other children in town. There was a storm headed on the horizon, so it was his last chance to have a little fun before they hunkered down for the worst parts of the winter chill. Perhaps if he had come home a little earlier, or played a little less, the sickness could have been avoided. Violet was awoken that next morning to the sound of Rory’s pathetic coughs. His forehead was burning hot, even though his body shivered. For the remainder of the day, Rory was bundled up and kept by the fire, and fed a diet of hot soup and warm milk to ease his ailment.

“Hot again,” Violet noted, the morning of the third day. Rory had stirred all throughout the night, groggy and forgone of his senses. His hair sectioned in tufts of wet red, yet his body suffered from never-ending shivers. Violet tucked him in and addressed the others. “How’s the wind?”

“Bad,” said Linus, closing the shutters tight. “No idea when it’ll let up.”

Violet approached the other three, wheels turning in her mind. “I’m afraid it might be serious. He keeps up like this and I dunno how long he’ll last. We may have to take him into town.”

“Into town?” Mei clarified. She gestured to the swirling storm beyond their walls. “He’ll die of cold before we got close.”

“But we have to try, don’t we? What if we just—?”

“I said no, Violet. And that’ll be the end of it.” From then on, if Violet begged the question, Mei’s answer remained the same. Rory would not be moved from the barn if it was the last thing Mei did. Additionally, when Violet tried sending word to Dr. Victor to see if he could make a house call, she was met with the news that he was attending to a patient a whole town over, and would be there for the rest of the week.

For days on end, Rory’s symptoms fluctuated. Some mornings, he would wake up with a renewed life, only to have it drain by sundown, and be bedridden with heaving coughing fits. They all did what they could to help him. Grammy prescribed little swabs of brandy to help put him to sleep, while Sitting Bear kept a hot cloth close at all times. Occasionally, when his fever tipped the scales, Linus—with proper precision—would gently cut into his soft arm to let the sick blood drip into a pie pan.

Around them, the storm only got worse. The winds howled against the barn walls, rattling the squeaky hinges and rickety shutters. Linus and Sitting Bear would gather wood when the weather allowed it, but they were still forced to remain conservative with their fires. The perpetual frost in the air was hardly doing Rory any favors, and by the fifth morning, he was barely well enough to speak, or eat, and spent his day bundled in every blanket available to him.

“He can’t keep on like this,” Violet said. “You sure Grammy don’t got no medicine to spare? Nothin’ at all?”

Mei shook her head. “Not a drop. Best she’s got is a bit of old tobacco in a spit tin, but that’s for her gums when they get ornery.”

The barn trembled against the rushing wind, and their minuscule fire flickered, threatening to wink out of life. Sitting Bear pulled one of the remaining logs from their quickly depleting heap, split it, and put the smaller section in the hearth. The gust settled, but only just, and Violet continued.

“We need that doctor. He’s bound to have something—”

“I reckon he does,” said Linus, “but we have no way of knowin’ when he’ll be back in town.”

“I keep sayin’ we need to take Rory in, and the more time we waste arguin’ the less time he’s got. Even if Victor ain’t there, I’m sure he wouldn’t mind if we used his house while he was away. It’s better than this old barn at any rate.”

“I told you once before,” said Mei. “Absolutely not. Rory spends two seconds out there, he freezes to death.”

“Then we’ll keep him wrapped up!”

“Violet, it don’t matter how much he’s got on, this weather’ll kill him.”

A great moan sounded from the barn walls. The Railwalkers went still, as if afraid that the whole structure would be blown away from them at any second. Thankfully, it stayed put. Violet clutched her hair in frustration. “Well, what’s worse? Tryin’ to save him or lettin’ him die here while we watch—”

“We are not ‘lettin’ him die.’ We’re taking care of him.”

“Yeah, right before you bleed out his last drop.”

“Violet.”

Rory began coughing, which drew their attention over. Sitting Bear was the first to Rory’s side, and he felt his forehead. His eyes were awash with worry, and he looked to the others. “He’s burning,” he said. “I do not know how much longer he can survive.”

“Christ, that settles it.” Violet marched over towards Maple and began untying her bridle. “We gotta take him to Victor, get him some real treatment.”

“You take him out there you’ve condemned him!” Mei shouted. “For once in your life, have some goddam patience, woman!”

“Patience!?” Violet whipped around. “You’re yammerin’ on about patience when our boy is dyin’ right before your eyes!?”

“He’ll survive!”

“You can’t be sure of that!”

“You can’t be sure he won’t!”

Violet threw Maple’s reins and rounded on Mei. Neither one dared flinch. “Well, I’ll be damned if I’m gonna sit here and do nothin’ about it!”

“You take him from here and he’s got worse chances of living than if he stays put, period.” With a frustrated snort, Mei gestured wildly into the air. “But here you go, regardless, guns blazin’ into the wind! You wanna be some reckless hero, you do it riskin’ your own life, you hear me?”

“What are you talkin’ about?”

“I’m talkin’ about you! Just cause you toss around some rotten men here and there, you fancy yourself a hero! So much that you’re willin’ to stake that boy’s life just to serve your own vanity!”

Violet’s jaw dropped. The air around her was frigid cold, and yet she’d never felt so hot under the collar. Steam poured from her lips as she snapped back, “You think this is about me? What in God’s name made you think somethin’ like that!? How dare you think I got anything but Rory’s best in mind?” Violet shook her head. “No, you can’t play God, Mei. You ain’t God, and you never was. Just cause you can’t admit when you’re wrong—!” Violet stopped herself. “This ain’t worth it. I’m taking Rory.”

Ch-chk.

The sound of Mei’s rifle seemed to stop the world from spinning. All of them, Violet, Linus, and Sitting Bear, stared at the barrel in her hands, pointed directly at Violet’s heart. There was less than three feet between them. If Mei pulled the trigger, there would be no missing. Violet slowly lifted her eyes from the barrel to the bearer. But unlike so many times before, when Mei’s eyes were steely cut, and her expression etched in stone, Mei was trembling. Her black gaze twinkled with tears above her red cheeks, and her shoulders shook harder than the walls of the barn around them.

“You take Rory,” she said softly, “and you kill him. I won’t let you…”

The air was thick, and Violet watched Mei’s unblinking desperation. Her body shook, but her trigger finger remained steady. Violet’s stomach twisted a thousand ways, watching that barrel stare back at her. There was a voice inside her head that urged Violet to call Mei’s bluff. But another, a louder voice, that warned her not to test it. Linus was the first to move. Calm and gentle, he laid a hand on Mei’s shoulder, who twitched at the contact.

“This is crazy,” he said. “Mei, this is all crazy. Both of you only want what’s best.” Still, Mei kept her rifle up. As tears spilled, a realization dawned over Violet. Her anger, her shock, all washed away as Violet pieced together Mei’s fear.

Slow as she could, Violet approached, and laid her hand on the cold barrel. “Mei. Listen to me.” Her voice was strong, yet low. “I will keep Rory safe. It won’t be like your mother.” Mei flinched, and for a split second, Violet worried that Mei would shoot. After a moment, however, she lowered her gun, and her shoulders slumped. The room heaved a collective sigh. Reaching out, Violet took hold of Mei’s neck and laid their foreheads together. Mei’s breathing was choppy at best, her body unable to stay still. “Shh…hush now…” Mei fell forward, and Violet embraced her tight. Mei clung to Violet, dropping her gun at their feet.

“I can’t—I can’t lose him like that. I can’t stand to see him all froze and—”

“You won’t. I swear to you, you won’t.”

“He’s so young.”

“I know.”

They hugged a few moments more, and Violet began to prepare. She threw on an extra coat and some of her Christmas socks knitted by Grammy herself. She was just bundling up her neck when Mei stopped her again. “Wait.” She took Violet’s hand. “Maple won’t make the cold. I’ll come with. Huī will get us there. He’s the toughest.”

She had a point. Big black Huī had the muscle to plow through the snow without incident. Violet nodded, and they made quick work together. Wrapping Rory as tightly as they could, Violet kept him bundled in her arms, and the pair of them mounted Huī’s saddle. Sitting Bear pried open the frozen doors, and they stepped out into the blizzard.

It was as though a thousand sharp knives sliced at Violet’s face. Hunkered behind Mei, Violet kept Rory between them, and constantly blew against his pale cheeks to keep him alive. Even with Huī’s strong gait, it was a struggle fighting the banks of icy white. There were some moments when the snow was piled so high, it buried their feet on either side of the saddle. Beneath her legs, Huī pressed on, big tufts of air leaving his wide nose with every push. Rory, eyes barely open, seemed to try and talk as he was escorted. Violet hushed him quiet, and told him to sleep instead.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the sight of the town bled through the veil of snow. Mei rode Huī to the front of Victor’s door, and Violet leapt from the saddle, nearly crashing as she landed. Not breaking momentum, she burst inside.

“Victor!” she cried. Head spinning, she was nearly blinded upon entry, which was why she just about knocked the poor doctor over as they each turned the corner.

“Violet—?” Victor steadied her and saw Rory in her arms. Victor grew suddenly stern and stepped aside. “My room. Quickly.” Violet rushed to do as she was told. Once inside, she folded Rory deep into Victor’s quilt. The doctor followed close behind. “How long?”

“Near a week now,” said Violet.

Victor washed his hands quickly, his sleeves rolled to his elbow. “What are his ailments?”

“Coughing, fever, barely can talk half the time. What is it?”

“Most likely? A winter’s chill. But it could also be influenza. I won’t know for certain until I examine him.” Victor took out a leather bag of tools and turned to Violet. “Please, wait for me in the parlor.”

Violet nodded and left the doctor to his work. As she closed the door, she saw Mei, covered in ice, slosh her way inside. “Huī should be fine for now,” Mei said. “Got him bundled up in the side shed.” Mei approached the fire in the hearth and held her hands to the heat. “What he say?”

“Could be nothin’. Could be somethin’ bad.” Violet sat down, staring into the flames. “All we can do is wait now.”

Mei stood, idle, as all the panic drained from them both. The ticking of the grand clock was hypnotic and washed away the howling of the winds beyond Victor’s door. Once she was thoroughly warmed, Mei sat herself down next to Violet and took off her boots. A silence budded between them.

“Earlier,” said Mei. “I didn’t…” She stopped herself. She tried again. “I know all you wanted was to help. I just—”

“I know.”

Mei rubbed her eyes, keeping her emotions in check. “You don’t forget somethin’ like that. A body, all froze and blue. She looked like she was made of stone. Just…there. Not breathin’, not movin’. All I could do was hold her and weep. It was all I could think to do.”

Violet cast her eyes between them. Mei’s free hand rested on the cushions by their legs. Violet took it. Eventually, they found themselves in each other’s arms, and watched the fire blaze beneath the stone chimney.

Violet didn’t know when she fell asleep. But her awakening was sharp and sudden. The fire had dwindled to a few stubborn embers, and a chill had leaked down the chimney into the parlor. Violet shivered and looked to the weight on her shoulder. Mei was there, heavy and deeply asleep. Come to think of it, Violet wasn’t sure if Mei had gotten a wink since Rory took ill. Her heart heavy, Violet wrapped her arms around Mei, keeping her still and warm.

The door creaked open, and Violet looked up. Victor, worn and tired, stepped into the parlor room. He offered Violet a weary smile and knelt down to restart the fire.

“Well?” Violet whispered.

Victor nodded. “He’ll pull through. Though only just.” He turned to Violet, iron poker in hand. “If you hadn’t brought him to me when you did, he might not have made it.”

The tightness in Violet’s chest uncoiled, and her body slumped against the couch, now more world weary than ever. “Thank you, doc. What do we owe ya?”

“Not a damn thing.” Victor yawned widely and stood, cracking his back as he did so. He spotted Mei, asleep on Violet’s shoulder. Opening a crate near the fireplace, he turned back to them with an older, spare quilt. He laid it on the women, tucking them in comfortably. “Hopefully this storm will let up before too long. Still, I’d like to keep Rory here until I’m sure he’s healthy.”

“Of course.” Violet watched as Victor sat himself in an armchair and checked his watch.

“Oh my. It’s nearly dawn.”

“Is it? What a night…”

“Indeed.”

They sat in silence a moment. Mei shifted where she slept and managed to curl up on the opposite side of the couch, unbothered. Violet watched her, her heart heavy. “I can’t imagine…”

“What was that?”

Violet’s eyes never left Mei as she slept. “Mei lost her mother in the winter. I can’t imagine wakin’ up just to see your own mother frozen to death.”

“Ah…” Victor laid his hands in his lap, thoughtfully. “There’s much about Mei I can’t imagine. But I didn’t know that about her.” He turned to Violet and caught her attention. “She must trust you dearly to tell you something like that.”

Violet’s mind immediately went to the barn, and the sight of Mei’s cold barrel staring her down without flinching. “I s’pose she does. Then again, who knows what goes through her mind?” Violet returned to Mei. “I love her, though. Probably more than I love myself.”

Victor smiled, ever so gently. “In that respect, then, I believe she is a lucky woman.” Again, he checked his watch. “Would you care for some tea? I’m afraid I’m not one for coffee.”

“Tea?” Violet chuckled. “Alright, doc. So long as you got some whiskey to go with it.”

Leaving the parlor, Victor put on a kettle, and the two settled in for a long talk. Over their tea (and a touch here and there of fine brandy), Violet learned many things about Victor. He was a gambling man, certainly, and came from a wealthy family from Rhode Island (not New Jersey). Once his losses became habitual, Victor would have to skip town to try and avoid his debtors. Fortunately, he’d managed to kick the itch once coming out west, and instead focused on his practice. He was barely thirty and had been studying medicine since his late teens. His family had a lazy cat named Bernice, which he missed most of all. He’d once had a love or two in his life, but it was always brief, considering the circumstances of his sexual tastes. In the mornings, Victor preferred a simple breakfast of tea and grits, or fresh fruit when it was in season. He’d been living in the town for years now, and with the help of the Railwalkers, finally at peace.

It was hours before Violet first heard the birdsong outside the window. Tearing herself from the conversation, she saw golden sunlight break over a smooth, winter landscape. The storm was gone, and a robin had landed at Victor’s window sill, grooming its feathers in the morning light.

“Well well.” Victor leaned back in his seat, staring through the window. “Looks like it’s finally passed. Thank goodness.”

A shift from the parlor drew Violet’s attention. Rising from the sofa, Mei rubbed her eyes and looked around aimlessly.

“Mornin,” Violet said. Mei only grunted in response. She shuffled her way into the kitchen and looked around, squinting.

“No coffee?”

“No coffee,” Victor affirmed. He held up his mug. “Tea?” Mei soured at the prospect.

Violet stood from her seat. “I’ll go check on Rory.” The others nodded, and she headed to the back bedroom. Inside, the small stove was winking out its final ember, though the room remained pleasantly warm. Rory laid, still and peaceful, beneath the thick blankets. Violet approached and sat on the edge. She felt his forehead. A little warm, but leagues better than before. Rory’s eyes fluttered open and he looked up.

“Violet?” he croaked.

“Hush now.” Violet gently stroked his fiery locks. “You need your rest, Rory.”

“M’hungry.”

“Oh are ya? Well, that’s good. You wasn’t much before. What would you like?”

“Mmm…hot cakes…some’a Grammy’s hot cakes. N’butter milk.”

Violet chuckled. “Well, I dunno if I can make ‘em like Grammy makes ‘em, but I’ll try. Sound good?” Rory nodded, and Violet laid a kiss on his forehead. “You rest, and I’ll see about them cakes.” Rory’s eyes closed, and he curled to his side.

Violet stepped back into the kitchen, mouth open to ask about flour, when he spotted the exchange between Victor and Mei. A telegram was in Victor’s hand, and was halfway to Mei’s own. “…didn’t know when I’d be able to get this to you. Good thing you found your way here.”

“Whassat?” Violet asked, stepping closer. “Another job?”

Mei nodded, folding open the telegram. “Trouble out in Utah. Mean som’bitch out there kidnapping girls for his whore house.” Mei showed Violet the telegram. “One of their brothers is offerin’ us a nice sum to shoot him dead.” Violet scanned the telegram.

TO RW STOP

H MILLS BROTHEL OWNER STOP

S LAKE UT STOP

KIDNAPPED SISTER STOP

$1500 REWARD STOP

T LAWRENCE

“Can we trust this?” Violet asked.

“Should be trustworthy,” said Victor. “My sources say this Mr. Lawrence is at his wits end. I feel it’s a legitimate offer.”

“Where can we find him?” Mei inquired.

“Telegram is stamped coming through Ogden.” Victor flipped it over, showing Mei the time stamp. “I’d start there.”

Mei tucked the telegram into her vest. “Answer him. Once Rory regains his health, we should make Ogden by the winter thaw.”

“Speaking of Rory,” Violet piped up. “Think you got some hot cake fixin’s for him? The boy’s mighty hungry.”

Victor smiled, his eyes twinkling. “I’m sure I could scrounge up some flour, yes.”

“What in the world?” Violet and Victor both turned as Mei caught sight of something outside. Linus and Sitting Bear, each mounted, trotted towards Victor’s home. With a passing glance, the three met the men at the doorstep. Deep down, Violet felt her gut twist.

“What’s wrong?” she said. Linus dismounted, his shoulders slumped and his face fallen.

“It’s Grammy,” he said. “She’s gone.”

* * * *

Digging a grave in winter ground was no easy task. It took each of the Railwalkers and some hands from the town to help make it deep enough. By the end of the morning, Violet’s hands were raw and red, made worse by the bitter cold. The service was held that afternoon, and the whole town gathered to see her off. As the preacher spoke, four men lowered Grammy’s pine box beneath the earth, and mourners began to toss handfuls of dirt and snow onto the lid.

“It was so sudden,” said Linus, almost to himself. “It was just…We had come in to check on her, and there she was. Quiet.”

Sitting Bear nodded, solemnly. “It was her time,” he said, “and she went in peace. That is all we can ask of the world.”

They went silent, listening to the even voice of the preacher. Violet glanced behind her. Rory, of course, was kept inside for his health, but that didn’t stop him from staring through the window. Even at a distance, Violet could spot Rory’s watery eyes. With only a nod, Violet left the service and headed for Victor’s house.

“You should be in bed, Rory.” Rory didn’t so much as turn to her. Instead, wrapped in a blanket, he pressed his face to the window, body heat fogging up the glass. Tears fell down his ruddy cheeks, pooling at the end of his chin. He cried without reservation, and in a way, Violet was thankful. She crouched beside him and watched the funeral through the window. “I’m sorry.”

“Why’d she have to die?” Rory rubbed his face, still staring straight ahead.

“Everyone dies. Just what happens.”

“Bad people die,” Rory said. “But why’d she have to die? She wasn’t even sick like me.”

Gently, Violet threaded her fingers through Rory’s hair. “She wasn’t. But she was old.” Violet sat against the wall beneath the sill, her hands in her lap. “We only got so long in this life, Rory. We don’t know when it’s all over. Sometimes, we know it’s comin’, and we can prepare. Other times…” Violet shook her head. “It just happens.”

With a deep sniff, Rory curled into Violet’s lap. She held him against her breast as he controlled his shuddering breath. Violet let him linger for as long as he needed. Eventually, Victor entered, followed by Mei, Linus, and Sitting Bear. Standing, Violet carried Rory back into the bedroom and tucked him in. “The important thing,” she said, “was that you got your time with her.” Rory laid his head on the pillow, clutching the blankets to his chin. “You got to love her, didn’t you?” Rory nodded. “She told you stories, right? What were some of your favorites?”

Rory hesitated, his eyes wandering around the room. “I liked them lil’ people. The ones who take your shoes and eat your bread. They’re always funny.”

Violet smiled. “Is that right? What else did they do?”

“Sometimes, they drank your milk right out of the glass, if you left it out at night. And they’d eat your honey, and steal your coins when you ain’t lookin’.” Rory rubbed his nose. “You always gotta be careful so that they don’t sneak inside.”

“I see,” said Violet. “I’ll be sure to keep an eye on our milk and honey. All right?” She kissed Rory’s head. “Get some sleep, sweet boy.” Rory yawned, and Violet left him to rest. Closing the door, she came upon the others speaking lowly in the parlor.

“How’s he doin’?” Mei asked.

“Good enough,” Violet sighed. “Hit him hard, of course. But he’ll be all right.”

Mei sat herself on the sofa, hands on her knees. “That boy don’t need no more tragedy. Christ. He’s been through enough as is.”

“He’s tough,” said Linus. “He’ll pull through, same as always.”

“But he shouldn’t have to pull through,” said Mei. “He’s a child. He should—he should be with children his own age. Maybe learnin’ numbers or letters the right way. In a classroom, with a teacher. He should have a home to go to, shouldn’t he? Somewhere he can sleep, all cozy in a real bed…”

Violet edged closer. “Mei?”

Mei pinched her nose. Her shoulders were hunched as she leaned over her lap. “He don’t deserve our life. He needs…” She wiped her face harshly and looked around. “He needs this. Don’t y’all see that?”

A silence met Mei’s question. Violet’s heart tugged at the prospect of leaving Rory behind, but she couldn’t deny the reasoning. This life, the life of a Railwalker, it was dangerous for someone as vulnerable as Rory. All the violence he witnessed, all the death. What did something like that do to a child? There were times when Violet forgot Rory’s age, and other times where she was reminded far too well. Violet sat beside Mei. She reached over and gently took her hand.

Victor was the next to speak. “Mei…” They looked up. “My house is lonely. I could care for him. Keep him safe.”

Linus lowered himself to the armchair, and stared blankly into the fire. “He could get a proper education here. Learn things like the other children. Maybe make some friends.”

Mei sniffed harshly. Standing quickly, she helped herself to Victor’s brandy. Victor didn’t stop her. “It’s not an easy decision,” Victor acknowledged. “I know how much you love him. All of you…But your world is no place for a child.”

Gently, Mei set her empty glass on the table. Her dark eyes dared not stray from the blank space on the wall. Slowly, she nodded. The decision was made. “Who’s gonna tell him?” No answer. Mei rounded to the room. “I’ll do it.”

“Wait.” Violet stood, blocking her path to the bedroom. “Let him rest. Let us have just a few more days together. And then we’ll…” The words died in her throat, and she swallowed back tears.

Linus, his head rolling to the back of his chair, stared up at the ceiling. “We’re gonna need more liquor.”

Rory remained in bed for the next three days. In that time, Violet spent every waking second by his bedside. She hardly even had the will to sleep, lest she miss one precious moment with the boy. As he felt better, Rory retold Grammy’s Irish stories to keep them entertained. In dull moments, Linus brought out his harmonica, and he and Rory sang songs (though poorly). On the third night, Victor made a hot stew, and Rory had the strength to eat in the parlor with the others. They laughed and told stories, and eventually, Rory was so tired that he nearly fell asleep in his soup. Sitting Bear, who was even more quiet than usual, brought him to bed.

No one got much sleep that night. They all knew what had to happen the next morning.

Each of them took time to secure supplies and ready the horses. The storm was over, but it would be a hard journey out of the snow. If they left early enough, they’d make it far enough south not to freeze to death on their way to Utah. But they’d have to leave by dawn. Violet had never dreaded first light so much before.

The clock struck five. All the Railwalkers stared at it, as if to curse it for keeping time. Mei was the first one to stand. “We shouldn’t tell him.”

“What?” said Violet. “We ain’t even gonna say goodbye?”

Mei struggled to answer. “I…I can’t see that boy’s heart break. I’m sorry, I just can’t.”

Linus was the next to stand, his hat clutched in his hands. “It’ll be easier for all of us if we just…weren’t here.”

“No.” Violet stood, her heart heavy as stone. “No, that’s some yella talk if I ever heard it. You’re just gonna walk out that boy’s life without so much as a reason? What will he think? What will he think when he wakes up to find his family gone?”

Mei threw her coat over her shoulders, unable to make eye contact. “If I see those teary eyes one more time, I know I won’t be able to leave him, Violet. I know it.”

Violet looked to Linus, who remained in line with Mei’s decision. Violet turned to Sitting Bear. “Bear? Are you just gonna…?” Sitting Bear remained ever silent. His face was unreadable. Dawning his hat, he passed the rest of them and walked out into the cold. Violet’s voice threatened to break, but she spoke anyway. “Well, I ain’t leavin’ without sayin’ goodbye. He’s owed that much.” Violet walked toward the bedroom, and, halfway there, stopped. She stared at the door, her hand twitching by her side. Violet had faced murderers, and rapists, perhaps even God Himself, and yet the prospect of facing a little boy behind that door halted her in her tracks. Her hand trembling, she finally managed to open it, and stepped inside.

Both Victor and Rory were asleep in bed. Victor was wrapped up in his own blanket on top of the comforter, while Rory was tucked away comfortably against the pillows. Violet walked to Rory’s bedside. She knelt down. “Rory…” she breathed.

Rory’s eyelids shifted, and he blinked awake. “Whassit…? S’it breakfast?”

“No, Rory, it isn’t breakfast.” Violet tried to swallow the knot in her throat, but it was nearly impossible. “Rory we…we have to go.”

“Oh.” Rory yawned and sat up, rubbing his tired eye. “We can’t have no breakfast before we go?”

“That’s not…” Violet’s heart cracked. “No. We have to go. And you…you gotta stay right here, Rory.” Beside him, Victor shifted awake, but remained still. “Can you do that for us? You gotta stay safe.”

Rory stared, dumbfounded. “Stay safe…” he repeated. His ginger brows furrowed over his freckled nose. “Wait. What…You want me to stay?”

“Yes, Rory. We need you to stay here.”

“When…when are y’all comin’ back? Is it…” Rory looked between Victor and Violet, desperately searching for an answer. “Are you comin’ back with trappin’s? How long do I gotta wait?”

“No I—Rory I don’t know how long it’ll be.” Violet laid her hand on Rory’s cheek. It was heating up, but not from fever. “We have to go. And we can’t take you with us. We can’t put you in danger anymore.”

Behind those hazel green eyes, Violet saw things click in Rory’s mind. His breathing grew quick and labored. He suddenly grabbed Violet’s wrist with both his hands. “Oh no…oh no, no, no, Violet, don’t leave me behind. Is it—was I bad? I won’t be bad no more, I swear it!”

Violet’s gaze clouded with white-hot tears. “No, Rory. You were so, so good. That’s why you gotta stay behind.”

“No!” Rory clung to Violet’s neck, now suddenly crying hysterically. “No, I don’t wanna—!”

“Rory, I’m sorry.”

“Please don’t! Don’t leave me behind, Violet!”

“I’m so sorry. I wish—”

“Don’t leave me! No, don’t leave me!”

“I love you, Rory.”

Violet’s whole body ached as she pulled from Rory’s arms. Victor held his shoulders, keeping them apart. Rory sobbed wildly, grasping at the air as Violet exited. “Violet, no! No no no no! Violet!”

Violet closed the bedroom door behind her. Her entire face contorted in pain, and as she grasped the handle tightly, she cried. She cried for Rory’s pain, for her own. She cried for the love she held for him, and the longing to trade anything and everything to keep Rory safe and keep him with them. But this was reality. It would only be a matter of time before Rory was caught by a stray bullet, or taken by a fever while on the road. This was for the best.

With Rory screaming in the background, Violet made her exit from Victor’s home. The others were already saddled and ready to go. From around the bend, Violet could hear Sweetpea hawing in distress, as though she knew something was not right, either. As Violet mounted Maple, the cold wind bit at her teary cheeks, causing pain to shoot down her face.

Just as they were ready to depart, the front door flew open, and Rory flung himself out into the snow before Victor dragged him back to the house. “No!” He screamed. “You said you’d never leave, Violet! You said you’d never leave!” The Railwalkers spurred their horses, and with their hearts in a thousand pieces each, they rode off into the sunrise, leaving Rory to weep in Victor’s arms.

Chapter 16

The road to Ogden, wet with the melting snow, was fraught with harsh nights and treacherous pathways. The wind bit at their faces and whipped at their horses. The rations they brought with them were enough to last, but they could barely manage a fire in the evenings to keep warm, much less to cook with. Some days, the winter winds were so unforgiving, Violet wouldn’t be surprised if they’d gone in circles. But no act of nature compared to the heavy weight on their hearts. Violet almost preferred the raging winds to the eerie silence. Simply put, no one felt like talking in Rory’s absence. It didn’t feel right, not having him with them. Sharing a saddle, asking a question, or perhaps coming back from a hike with a few fresh rabbits. They were incomplete, and the imbalance was staggering. It was all Violet could do to remind herself that they had done the right thing.

That was harder to convince herself of these days.

One evening, about a week into their ride, they settled in for sleep, though it did not come easily. Bundled in skins and blankets, they watched their tiny fire flicker helplessly between them. Linus tried adding kindling to it, but it made no difference.

“Think we’ll see him again?”

The question hung in the air. No one dared answer it. “Yes,” felt like a lie, and “no,” felt too cruel to say aloud. Linus lifted his head from the fire, the orange glow flickering on his glasses. “Grammy ain’t around no more. Don’t make sense to visit for Christmas.”

“Of course we visit for Christmas,” Mei snapped. She hunched tighter into her cowskin jacket, glaring at the fire pit. “All we gotta do is get rid of Abernathy. Once he’s out of the picture, we go back for him.”

“And then what?” Violet asked. Mei didn’t answer. “That’s what it all comes down to, don’t it? Killin’ him.”

“It’s what it’s always come down to,” Mei responded. “Every job we ever took we took cause it brings us closer his way. Some less so than others, but inches become miles, if you got enough of ‘em.”

“So? You ain’t answered me. You kill Abernathy. And then what? What next?” Linus and Sitting Bear shifted uncomfortably. No doubt, this was not a conversation they had often. “You keep on doin’ this? Killin’ fer money?”

“No.”

“What, then? You settle out west on a little ranch, prayin’ that no one recognizes you? Content to fade away from the pages of history?”

“It don’t matter what happens next,” Mei finally said. Her eyes never left the measly fire, though her brow creased firmly. “Abernathy dies. That’s all that matters. Once that happens, nothin’ else counts.”

“And what about them?” Violet gestured to Linus and Sitting Bear, both of whom were content to stay silent. “What about Rory? Hell, what about me?”

“I ain’t havin’ this conversation, Violet. Not now.”

“When? May ain’t that far along, and pretty soon, that opportunity is gonna come up. What happens when you put that bullet between his eyes, Mei? You gonna stand there and let the law catch up to ya?”

“Maybe I might.”

“Is that all your life means to you, then? Getting that one kill, that one man, and then nothing?”

“Violet…” Linus’s voice was gentle, but it did nothing to defuse the situation.

Violet turned to the boys. “Don’t tell me y’all are fine with this. Goin’ after Abernathy’s one thing, but goin’ in at him with no exit plan all but guarantees two pairs of boots for the damn executioner.”

“Maybe that’s what I deserve,” said Mei. Violet’s anger died quickly at the statement, and they once more fell into silence. All that comforted them was the dismal crackle of the twigs and leaves smoldering between them.

Until Sitting Bear began to sing.

It was soft. So soft that it sounded like the wind itself. Violet didn’t even notice it immediately, and only after listening with care did she pick up the deep bass of Sitting Bear’s voice. His eyes were closed, and his shoulders rocked ever so slightly. His thumbs, finding the beat to his melody, drummed against the ankle of his boot. If he did sing words, Violet could not make them out. His singing grew louder, and Violet found herself hypnotized. His voice rose and fell like the rise of a tide, his eyes closed and his long hair drifting against the breeze.

It was difficult to put the sensation into words. Her pain, her tragedy, was in that song. The people she left behind, the life she could no longer live. Her town, her mother, her friends. And the weeping face of little Rory. All of it was folded deep within Sitting Bear’s voice. And as he sang, those tragedies bled from her soul, until all that was left was exhaustion. Curled up against a hard rock, Violet closed her eyes, knees hugged to her chest, and fell asleep to the sound of Sitting Bear’s voice.

Ogden wasn’t far along after that. Their first signs of civilization came as they cleared a forest. Flush against the riverbank of the Weber, they began to see signs of a railroad through the trees. Land was cleared in wide patches, leaving stumps and trampled brush where settlers passed through. The river bended, and their side rose to a slight cliff’s edge. They slowed to a halt and observed.

It was mid-day by now, and the clouds had given the sun a wide berth. Ogden was in clear view. Violet traced the railway from the tree line and down into the thick of the city. It was a wide, well-organized grid of stores and houses, with flat roads to accommodate packed wagons. The rail station was an impressive piece of architecture, giving way to different tracks and offices that petered out from its entrance. Violet could just make out the details of a town square and a few churches. The people walked the roads like millions of ants, unaware of their watchers.

“Big place,” Mei grunted. Her brows were knit in calculation. “Might take us a day or two to find this T. Lawrence.”

Linus sighed. “S’pose we could try and blend in, so long as the townsfolk don’t mind a bit of color.” Linus perked. “Why don’t we have Rory—?” His words died the minute he said them. Swearing beneath his breath, he returned his gaze to the horizon. “Sorry.” Linus was met with silence.

“I can go.” The others turned to Violet, and she continued. “Out of the bunch, I’ll blend in the most. People won’t think twice about a white woman asking questions.”

Mei glanced along the land behind them. “We’ll set up camp just there. You know what information we need?” Violet nodded. “Don’t take too long. And Violet?” She took Violet’s hand firmly. “If you feel in danger, even in the slightest, you don’t hesitate to come back, you hear me?”

Violet nodded, squeezing Mei’s fingers. “I won’t be long.” Mei still seemed iffy, and so Violet leaned in and gave her a firm, reassuring kiss.

“Promise?” said Mei.

“Promise,” said Violet. She sealed the pact with one last kiss, and, finding a shallow bend in the river upstream, headed down to cross. By the time she was on the other side, the Railwalkers were gone from sight.

The transition from wide open road to crowded city was jarring. Somehow, with all the bodies and buildings, the world was so crowded it felt ten degrees warmer on the streets. Violet hadn’t been in such a bustling place since before the summer, and had since gotten used to the little fox dens and mining towns they’ve crossed over their travels. But that bustle gave Violet a sense of anonymity. Just as she predicted, no one looked twice.

Finding a public house was easy enough. Tying off Maple to the saloon, she headed inside. The crowd was moderate for the middle of the morning. A piano sat idle by a large hearth, a few drunks sleeping off their last shot of whiskey at the bar. Casually, she took a seat. First thing Violet did was order some hot food. It was a welcomed change from stale cornbread and dried meat. A double helping of biscuits, hot gravy, and fresh eggs. Even the coffee was free of grounds. When the bartender came to check on her, she smiled and removed her hat.

“Mornin’, sir,” she said.

“Good mornin’,” the bartender replied. He was a stringy sort of fellow, with a large nose hoisted high on his face by the bristle of his black mustache. “Anything else I can getchya?”

“Was wonderin’ if you knew a man named ‘Lawrence’?” Violet sipped her coffee and leaned comfortably against the bar edge. “Said I could find him here.”

“Lawrence…Tim Lawrence?”

“Yissir, that sounds like it.”

The bartender laid a cloth on his shoulder and folded his scrawny arms. “What’s a gal like you want with Tim Lawrence?”

“Why? There somethin’ the matter with him?”

“No. He’s just—” The barman paused. “He’s just been a little outta sorts lately is all. Goin’ on about how his sister’s been nabbed and such.”

“Ain’t she?”

The bartender sighed. “Most of us don’t think so. No…Little Judith ran off one winter’s morning and never came back. Way I see it? The storm took her. No other reasonable way around it.”

Violet frowned. She leaned forward on her elbows. “Was her body found?” she asked.

“No, but…” The bartender paused, and his eyes narrowed. “What is it you, anyway, miss? You a family friend?”

“Oh, me? No, no sir.” Violet finished her coffee and set the cup aside. “I sell insurance.”

“Insurance?”

“That’s right. Accident insurance. You ever heard of it?” The bartender shook his head. “See, Mr. Tim Lawrence got some folk back east lookin’ out for him. They figure, what with him bein’ vulnerable due to Miss Judy’s disappearance, they’d want him taken care of in case he hurts himself. You know.”

“Back east…” The bartender tapped the edge of the wood. “I don’t think Tim’s got nobody back east, do he?”

“Not by blood,” said Violet. “But some of the Lawrence’s made family friends back during the war. They’re just checkin’ in on him, from what I figure. Didn’t ask too many questions myself, tell you the truth.”

“Right…” The bartender hesitated, but after refilling Violet’s coffee, relaxed his shoulders. “You can find him up on Third Street. Right across from the general market.”

“Many thanks, friend.” Violet laid a five dollar bill on the counter, and the barman’s eyebrows shot up. “Oh, so sorry. This ain’t worth that, is it? Shoot. So used to New York prices.” She laughed, and began slipping the bill away. The bartender’s eyes hungered for it, and after a moment of faked contemplation, she slid the five back towards him. “Ah, what the hell? You’ve been a help, eh? Just do me a little favor, friend.” The barman eagerly put the bill into his apron pocket. “Try not to announce me, hm? Insurance don’t have much of a reputation, ‘specially around these parts. Somethin’ about makin’ our money off of human tragedy.”

“Oh sure, miss, sure. Say uh…I didn’t catch your name?”

Violet stood, and laid her hat on her head with a bright smile. “Didn’t give it. You have yourself a nice morning.” With that, she stepped back into the sunlight and went off in search of Mr. Tim Lawrence.

Third Street was two blocks from the saloon, and easy to spot, due to the bright green sign of the corner general store. Tying off Maple, she first made a few purchases inside. A little coffee to go, and a few brown sugar candies. Those were Rory’s favorites. When they came back for him, she’d shower the boy in brown sugar candies, make no mistake. Walking up to the register, Violet struck up a casual conversation with the store’s proprietor. He was a leathery man, with a gruff voice and not much for a vocabulary, but Violet managed to wrangle a smile out of him by the end of it all. While there, she just so happened to mention that she was on the look-out for her dear childhood friend, Tim Lawrence. She was in town and desperately wanted to catch up. And of course, give her condolences about dear little Judy. She was practically a sister, after all. The owner had no problems pointing to the window of his apartment. Violet thanked him with a smile and a few extra coins, and headed across the street.

The building was shabby at best. The man at the front desk barely noticed Violet as she walked in, most likely because he was deep into the book wedged between his thick fingers. The wood floors creaked, and voices easily leaked through walls and floors. After assessing her surroundings in relation to the pointed-out window, she climbed the stairs and spotted Tim Lawrence’s door.

She knocked. Silence. She knocked again.

“Whossit?”

“Mr. T Lawrence? I got your telegram.”

Another pause. A chair scraped against the floor, followed by the shuffling of a frantic man. A few locks clicked, and the door opened slightly. Through the crack, Violet saw the drunken visage of Tim Lawrence. His eyes were bloodshot, and his face was overrun with whiskey whiskers. Though he tried to hide it, Violet could see the revolver he held behind his thigh.

“You them?” he asked.

“Now I hardly think that’s a proper way to greet someone, Mr. Lawrence. Why don’t you let me on in and we’ll have ourselves a talk?”

After a moment more of thinking, Tim undid the final latch and opened the door. Violet stepped inside, removing her hat. Tim’s home was a wreck. Newspapers and empty bottles lined the floor and single table, with a hay mattress pushed up to one corner of the little room. Violet turned to Tim, and gestured to a chair. “May I have a seat?”

Tim nodded, and Violet pushed a few bottles away before sitting. Tim cleared his throat. “Sorry, I ain’t got nothin’ for you. Unless you like beer.”

“I think I’m all right, Mr. Lawrence.”

Tim looked to the door, before closing and locking it behind Violet. “Where’s the rest of ‘em?”

“I’d prefer not to say.”

Tim screwed his face into a vicious sneer. “Prefer not to…? The hell am I payin’ you for then?”

“You haven’t paid us. Not yet. Here.” Violet set her hat on the table, nodding to the other seat. Tim sat, his leg bouncing anxiously. “Tell me everything. What happened to your sister? When? Who is Mills, and where in Salt Lake can we find him?” Violet pulled out a scrap of paper and a pencil, and waited.

Still trembling, Tim nodded. “Herbert Mills. Got a brothel named the Bird Cage. Big ol’ boy, you can’t miss him. Louder than a train whistle, the bastard.”

“How do you know he took your sister?”

“Judy’n me had a fight just before Christmas. Mills came into town lookin’ for new girls. Judy wanted to go. I wouldn’t let her.”

Violet paused. “How old is Judy?”

“Nineteen.”

“Hm.”

“What?”

“Well…” Violet hesitated. “How do you know she didn’t find Mills and go willingly? She’s old enough to make them decisions for herself.”

Tim leaned forward, snarling. “She’s still a child! She don’t know her ass from a hole in the ground, let alone what Mills was offerin’!”

“And what was he offering?”

“He was goin’ on and on about opportunities fer his girls. ‘Financial freedom’ or som’it. I wasn’t about to let my Judy get wrapped up like that!”

Violet laid one leg over the other, relaxing in her chair. “Saloon owner seems to think she was got by the storm. You sure she’s—?”

“She’s not dead.” Tim snapped. “I know my Judy, and she’s not dead. She’s turnin tricks against her will for that—that—!”

“All right, ease up now.” Violet waited until Tim settled before continuing. “And the money?”

“What about the money?

“You got it?”

Tim straightened up fiercely. “Yeah, I got it. What makes you think I don’t got it?”

“Oh, I dunno, Mr. Lawrence. There’s a lot that rubs me the wrong way bout this whole thing. Unfortunately for you, we can’t take no job on your word alone.”

Tim’s eyes bulged from his head, and his leg bounced faster. “I said I got the money. Y’all take other jobs on faith, so why not mine?”

“Those other jobs are from people we know and trust, Mr. Lawrence. Now, this ain’t to say I don’t believe you, but put yourself in my position. I’m being asked to find a woman who may not even want to be found. You worry for your sister, I respect that. But we don’t know you, Tim. And we sure as shit don’t know if you got the assets you claim to have. Not without proof.”

Tim’s neck muscles clenched. A temper boiled beneath the surface, but Violet didn’t dare draw back. At this point, Violet had known too many men like Tim to be intimidated. So she stared, unflinching, as Tim struggled to regain his composure. Finally, he settled, and reached for the coat that hung on a rusty nail beside the table. Violet tensed, her fingers twitching near her gun, but instead of a weapon, Tim turned and presented Violet with a small key. He laid it on the table, and Violet swiped it up.

“Go to First National. I got me a lock box. Box 102. All the money I got in the world’s in there.” Suddenly tired, Tim slumped his way to his bed and plopped onto the surface, face first. “Just get my Judy back. S’all I want.”

Violet stood, pocketing the key. “I’ll do my damndest.” With one last look towards the sorry sack in the corner, Violet left Tim’s apartment, being sure to lock it on her way out.

* * * *

The cold was bitter, but the wind for now had died down. Violet’s chapped lips stung against the air, causing her to lick them endlessly. Fifty yards ahead of them, sitting not-so-innocently, was their target in question: the Bird Cage brothel. Salt Lake City was not unlike many of the other metropolises they’d visited. Wide streets, bustling town centers, and, in this city’s case at least, a well-congregated church. But for all the traffic of the town, the Bird Cage sat near the edge of the city, unassuming and detached. After the few days trek it took the Railwalkers to arrive, it was only a matter of hours before they found what they were after.

The plan was simple. Due to a lack of information, digging further into the matter was crucial. Linus would enter the brothel, posing as a customer. While he fraternized with the girls (and figured out which one happened to be their Judith Lawrence), Sitting Bear would scout the area, locating Mills’ office, and any potential avenues of a quick escape. This left Mei and Violet to wait in the dark, eyeing the front window where Linus sat. Fortunately for him, the girls didn’t seem the least put off by his color, although it may have had something to do with the wads of money he was flashing around. Bundled up in her coat, Violet watched intently, waiting for her cue.

“Sure is taking his sweet time,” she grouched. “Bet he wants his money’s worth before things get hairy.”

Mei lit a cigarette. The spark broke the darkness like the flash of a camera, and she took a deep drag. “Knowing Linus? More’n likely.” Clicking her lighter closed, she pocketed it. Her eyes, like Violets, had not left the window. They could barely hear the noise of the brothel through the silence. Laughter, the clinks of glasses. Someone inside had started a rousing chorus of “Camp Town Lady.” Probably Linus.

“You’re right, you know. About me.” Mei blew out a sharp stream of smoke and continued. “I don’t have a plan after Abernathy. Or at least…I didn’t use to.” Cigarette clutched in her teeth, Mei rolled her neck, her hand pressed against it. Violet heard a few distinct crunches. “Killing him, that’s all that mattered for years. I never saw past it. Not even when Rory came into our lives. I always thought, ‘well, the boys can take care of him after I’m gone.’“

Violet’s heart strained. “You don’t think you’ll survive it.”

Mei shrugged. “Not exactly,” she said. “More like…if I don’t, it shouldn’t matter much.” Finally, Mei met Violet’s eyes. “S’cept…it matters now. And damn if that ain’t inconvenient.” Mei managed a faint smile before returning to watch the brothel window. “I’ve never wanted it to matter before now.”

Violet took Mei’s hand in hers. Their skin tingled with cold, before warming up between them. “When it’s done,” she said, “we should go back to the Dakotas. Maybe we could live there. On Grammy’s land. Give Rory a home. Let Bear do his hunting. We could raise cows and pigs and…Hell, we could even have us a dog or two. Linus might bounce between there and down south now and again, but he’d always be welcome.”

Mei took another drag of her cigarette. “That sure sounds nice.” Mei squeezed Violet’s hand and chuckled under her breath. “This was so much easier when I didn’t care about myself.”

After that, they resorted to silence. Mei finished her smoke down to the nub, and let it fall between her boots. By the time it hit the ground, Linus’s arm raised behind the window, and he gently knocked on the glass. Violet stood.

“About time.”

With Mei vanishing into the shadows, Violet made her way to the brothel door. Opening it, she was greeted with a sour stench of smoke and spirits. A few patrons, thoroughly drunk, were singing at the top of their lungs, with topless whores dancing beside them. A huddle of men smoked from a long pipe in the corner. One of them was dead asleep on the table they shared. As Violet strolled inside, she glanced towards Linus. Subtly, Linus flicked his finger, and Violet followed its direction. There at the bar, cleaning a few glasses, was a young woman no older than twenty. Her dirty blonde hair was strung up in a wiry bun, with haphazard pins hastily placed in odd, awkward angles. Her dress was barely laced in the back, though it stayed put. As Violet approached, her big eyes lifted. Steely gray, and doe-like. She flashed a smile, showing off the gap between her crooked, yellow teeth.

“Evenin’ miss.” She gave Violet a flimsy little curtsy. “How can I help you?”

Violet looked her up and down. “How much?”

A flash of color hit her cheeks. “Sorry?”

“How much? I won’t take long. An hour at most.”

“O-oh.” She kept her smile, but nervously twisted the cleaning cloth in her hands. “I uh…Don’t you get me wrong, ma’am, you’re mighty handsome. But I ain’t…never really…” She giggled. “I’m afraid I don’t know what I’d do with another lady. But I think Pearl over there would suit you just fine.”

Violet glanced over at the whore named Pearl, who was busy drinking a beer with a man’s head between her thighs. Violet turned back around and shook her head.

“I don’t want Pearl. I want you, miss…?”

“Ju…Juniper.”

“Miss Juniper.” Violet dug into her vest and pulled out a folded five dollar bill. Juniper’s eyes twinkled at the money.

“Oh—!” She reached out to take it, but pulled back immediately. “Oh, ma’am, I ain’t worth no whole five dollars!”

“I’ll be the judge of that.” Violet nudged her head towards the staircase. “What do you say, Miss Juniper?”

There was a hint of protest on Juniper’s lips, but the prospect of money eventually won out. With a timid nod, Juniper led Violet up the stairs, red as a ripe cherry. Violet took stock of the second floor. A standard narrow hallway, a few doors closed and occupied, and near the end, the slightest glances of a well-furnished, well-lit main office. Juniper led Violet to one of the empty rooms, and closed the door behind them as they entered.

Violet sat on the creaky spring bed, and watched as Juniper fumbled with the water pitcher on the side table. “Would you…like sommit to drink before we…?”

“That won’t be necessary,” said Violet. She pat the bed next to her. “Don’t worry. This isn’t that kind of visit. It’ll just be a friendly chat.”

Juniper stared at Violet, surprised. “A chat?” she said.

“Yes.” Violet propped one leg over the other, her arms folded. “I need to speak with you. With Judith Lawrence.”

Juniper’s face fell. “Wha…how do you…?”

“Why don’t you have a seat, honey?” Violet gestured to a side chair, which had seen vastly better days. Juniper—Judith—took a seat, quite shaken. “Relax. You ain’t in trouble. I’m no officer of the law or nothing. Far from it.”

“Then…then who are you…?”

Violet uncrossed her legs and leaned forward on her elbows. “How did you come here, Judith? Did you come to the Bird Cage by choice? Or by force?”

“By force…?” Judith blinked, the shock ebbing away from her expression. “No. No, not by force.”

“You weren’t kidnapped?”

“I…Who says I was kidnapped?”

“And you can leave this place whenever you want? If you want?”

“Yes. Or…I mean, I believe I can.”

Violet sighed deeply and removed her hat. “I had a feeling.” She pinched the bridge of her nose, frustrated that she was, for once, not proven wrong. “Your brother hired me and my friends to bring you home to Ogden.”

“Tim hired you?” Judith’s voice was now more frustrated than befuddled. “That goddamned…He knows I weren’t kidnapped. I left, plain and simple! And you can tell him that yourself, maybe that way he’ll get it through his thick skull.”

Violet sat back upright. “Tell me about your boss, Mills. What’s he like?”

“Mr. Mills?” Judith furrowed her thick brow. “I…he’s a man, I guess.”

“What’s that mean?”

“I mean…well…you know…” Judith gestured vaguely. “You know how men get angry sometimes. They get a little mean. But it’s only cause Mr. Mills is such a business man. He wants to make sure I’m doin’ my job as his new girl. That’s all.”

“Does he ever hit you?” Violet asked.

“Never hard,” said Judith. “Just a little whack now and again if I’m off in the clouds. I lose track of things pretty easy, so I don’t blame him.”

Violet repressed an angry sneer at the answer, but instead pushed forward. “What’s keeping you here, Judith?”

“Money for one thing,” said Judith. “Mr. Mills went and got me a good job here. Didn’t have to, but he did. I get a whole seventy-five cents every time I make a client, plus whatever the client wants to leave behind.”

“But if you had the money? What then?”

“Well I…” Judith went quiet, thinking it over. “I…I guess I wouldn’t need to stay here…I could…I don’t know…go further west? Or even east.”

“And do you think Mr. Mills is the type to let you go?”

“I don’t see why not,” said Judith. “I never asked though…”

Violet stood. Digging into her coat pocket, she pulled out half of her petty cash. It added up to just under fifty dollars. Judith’s eyes bulged at all that money, especially when Violet put it in her hands. “Now’s your time to find out.”

Judith stared at the money in her hands. Violet guessed it was more than she’d ever held in her life. Judith looked up to Violet, mouth agog. Violet made no move to take it back. Instead, Violet put her hat back on and straightened out her coat. “I’ll leave you to get your things together. Good luck.”

“Wait!” Judith stood up quick, and reached out for Violet. “I don’t even know your name!”

Violet smiled. “Goodnight, Judith.” Walking into the hall, Violet shut the door on a very confused but quite richer Judith Lawrence. Standing for a moment, Violet peered at the cracked door at the end of the hall. There was movement within, and Violet picked up on the sound of a chair squeaking beneath the weight of a hefty sitter. Violet went to the window of an empty room and opened the frame. The cold wind slapped her face, but she ignored it. Finding her footing, she climbed onto the roof and carefully walked towards the office. Coming to the edge, Violet barely spotted the dark shapes of Mei and Sitting Bear, crouched beneath a brush. Violet cautiously slid down from the roof and onto the window ledge. Focusing everything on her balance, Violet crouched low and peeked inside.

At the desk, with his back to the window, was a round, wide man. He was hard at work on a stack of documents, completely unaware of Violet’s presence. Returning her attention to Mei and Sitting Bear, Violet held out a hand as a signal. Mei quickly left the brush and headed for the front of the brothel. Moments later, there was a shattering of glass that echoed through the building.

“What in Sam Hill…?” Mills stood from his desk and lumbered out of his office. “Hey!” he barked. “What broke?!” As he stomped his way out of sight, Violet worked quickly. Crouched precariously on the window ledge, she slid a knife between the ledge and the frame and swiped the lock from its holster. Now unlatched, Violet pried the window ajar, and crawled her way inside. She closed and locked the window behind her and did a quick scan of the office.

Along with Mills’s work desk, there was a tall wardrobe, a fine four-poster bed, a few paintings and portraits, and a decently stocked, personal bar. Violet went to the wardrobe and slipped inside, quietly closing the door behind her. Now peering through the slats of the wardrobe, Violet saw Mills return to his office.

He was as Tim Lawrence described. Big, round-shouldered and bearded with a red face. His beady eyes were tucked into pockets of wrinkles, betraying his age, and when he walked, the floor around him trembled. He sat back at his desk with an exasperated huff. Silently, Violet unholstered her Smith & Wesson and rested her thumb on the hammer.

A small knock caught Mills’s attention and he looked up from his work. “Yes?” he gruffed. The door creaked open and there stood Judith. It was difficult for Violet to see her expression, but her voice gave away her nervousness. Mills went back to his paperwork. “What is it, June?”

“Er…Mr. Mills, sir…I was wondering…um…”

“Spit it out, girl.”

“I…I’d like to leave.”

Mills sat up, stunned. “Leave?”

“Yessir.”

Mills leaned back in his chair. The silence was thick. For a moment, Violet wondered if he would actually agree. But, rather than prove himself a better man, Mills scoffed in Judith’s face and turned back to his work. “Get back to the floor, Juniper.”

“Judith.”

“What?”

“My name…My name is Judith.”

“I don’t give a horse’s ass what your name is. You’re missing out on good clients. Go on, get. Or did you not want to eat this week?”

Another pause. Violet could hear the tremble in Judith’s voice as she continued: “No. No, Mr. Mills, this ain’t the life I want for myself. I’m leaving.”

“Like hell you are.” Mills stood swiftly, slamming his pen down. “What’s gotten into you? I give you a chance at a new life and here you are, wanting to walk away from it? You think you can survive out there all on your own? You won’t last a day!”

“You don’t know that!” Judith cried. “You can’t know that!”

“Oh yes I can, and yes I do!” Stomping out from behind the desk, Mills approached Judith and grabbed her arm. Now with his back fully to the wardrobe, Violet took her chance, and took it quickly. “You work for me, you goddamned whore, and you will do so until I’m dead in the cold, hard ground!”

Click. “I can arrange that.”

It was as though lightning had struck the room. Slipping unnoticed from her hiding place, Violet came up behind Mills and laid her barrel against his thick, sweaty neck. Mills began to swerve, but Violet spoke quickly. “Don’t turn around,” she said. “Eyes front. Stand still.” Mills obliged, but only just.

“A woman?” he husked. “A damned woman has a gun to my head—”

“And plenty of bullets to boot.” Violet dug her barrel a little deeper into his skin. She watched his shoulders shudder. “You ever heard of the Railwalkers, Mr. Mills?” Mills went stiff, and Judith’s jaw dropped. “Oh good. You have. So you know who we are. And you know why we’re here.”

“You damned…you goddamned…”

“Let the girl go,” Violet continued. “She came to you willingly. So she should leave you just the same.” Mills was silent. Violet whacked the back of his head with the butt of her gun, causing him to cry out. “Do it.”

With a shambling breath, Mills spoke. “Y…you’re excused…Judith…” Judith didn’t move at first, but over Mills’s shoulder, Violet nodded. With one last, tearful look between the two of them, Judith turned and raced out the door. “There…I let her go.”

“We’re not done yet, Mr. Mills,” said Violet. Again, Mills started shifting. “I said don’t turn around.” He settled. “I’m giving you an option. It’s more than most of what our targets get, so consider yourself lucky. From this point on, you treat your girls with respect. A gentle hand. And with humility. You pay ‘em well. And you let them come and go as they please. Do all this, and I won’t be inclined to come back and finish this job properly.”

Mills snarled, his fists quaking. “No…you don’t have the grit to pull that trigger, woman.”

“Oh, I have pulled this trigger on lesser men than you, I can promise you that.”

“I say you’re bluffing.”

“Don’t you move, Mr. Mills.”

“I’m calling it.”

“Don’t you do it.”

Mills turned. Violet fired.

With a sickening “bang!” blood sprayed into the air and splattered against the wood grain of Mills’s desk. The bullet, at point blank range, tore through the right side of Mills’s throat. Most of his neck was intact, and therefore, he remained alive. But he was stunned, winded, and careened into the floor with a clatter. The wound may not have been an instant kill, but there would be no surviving the blood loss. Mills was as good as dead.

Violet lowered her gun. She glared down at Mills, who clutched his pulsating wound with slippery hands. More and more blood, seemingly by the gallon, flooded his tawny suit and pooled to the floor.

“You prideful sombitch,” she seethed. “You could have lived. If you just stayed still, you could have lived.” Mills merely gasped in response. Downstairs, Violet could hear commotion start to rise. Time was of the essence. Holstering her gun, Violet threw open the window and leapt into the air. Sitting Bear, at the ready, caught her seamlessly. Mei and Linus were already approaching, with the horses in tow.

Mounting quickly, the Railwalkers rode into the night as chaos erupted in their wake.

They went on for hours. Well into the sunrise, and the late morning. By the time they had stopped for a bite to eat, the sun was out in full force, warming them while they prepared their breakfast for the day. There was no sign of any followers to speak of, which gave them time to enjoy a proper meal.

Violet, however, didn’t have much of an appetite. As Linus made their corn meal, she stared into the wisps of their cooking fire. The image of the dying Mills joined the likes of Simon, of Mr. Hearst’s men, of the boy from the train, of Mr. Munts. A wheel of death, forever on loop in Violet’s mind. Mei sat beside her and handed Violet a plate. Violet didn’t notice it.

“I told him not to move,” she said. “That’s all he had to do. If he had just stayed put, he’d be alive.”

Mei set the plate by Violet’s feet. “You gave a girl her freedom. That’s what you should dwell on. Not a man like Mills.”

“But did I?” Violet turned to Mei. “That money will run out soon enough. And then what? She’ll find another brothel, and the cycle starts again. There’ll always be men like Mills.” Mei reached up and threaded her hand through Violet’s hair. It calmed Violet’s anger and she closed her eyes. Leaning in, their foreheads touched.

“That’s why there are people like us.”

Chapter 17

Snip. Snip. Sssssnip.

Hair fluttered to join the scattered hay at Violet’s feet. The door to their train car was open just so, causing some to dance into the night sky. It was a wonder Linus could keep his hands steady as he cut Violet’s hair by the flicker of their kerosene lamp. “And…yes. Finished.” Linus used a light rag to dust off the remains of Violet’s hair from her face and shoulders. Setting the sheers down, Linus held up a piece of cracked mirror. Violet admired herself for the first time since the summer.

Linus had cut her hair nice and short, as per Violet’s request. But that wasn’t the only difference she saw in her reflection. Permanent dark circles now sat beneath her honey brown eyes. Her nose had healed with a slight crook to the left since her scuffle with Marshal Hearst. Her face was less round, more angular, and her skin had a kiss of the prairie sun. Freckles had come out in droves, only to be washed out by scars or grime. That soft, girlish figure was gone. Her body was harder, thicker, and more robust. Violet touched her face, noticing a few long-standing bruises now dying the knuckles on her hand.

“It’s perfect. Thank you, Linus.” Standing from her hay bale, Violet stretched her achy legs and went to the train door to watch the scenery. The moon was high above them, dusting the world with silver strands. Even with the spring doing away with winter’s frost, the night chill lingered, and Violet bundled up tighter into her coat. Despite the darkness, she could make out far mountain ranges beyond the swaths of rolling, lush wildlands.

“When do you think we’ll get to California?” Violet asked.

Mei, who was enjoying the last of her tobacco, checked her pocket watch. “Nearly there,” she said. “If not now, soon.” Clicking it closed, she tucked the watch into her waistcoat and leaned back against a few sacks of potatoes. “The train’s scheduled to stop in Butte for water and maintenance. We’ll go on foot from there.”

“Will we see the ocean?” Violet sat between Mei’s legs, and Mei laced her arm around Violet’s waist. “I’d like to see it. If we have the time.”

“I have only seen it once,” said Sitting Bear. “It’s bigger than I imagined. And so beautiful.”

Violet smiled and leaned her head into Mei’s neck. Her memory of Georgia’s beaches were so faint, she could only picture a massive lake with no end in sight. Her eyes lingered on their horses. Maple had found a comfortable nook on Huī’s back to rest her head. Huī didn’t seem the least bit bothered. Violet’s smile only got bigger. She and Maple had always been so alike.

“I’d like to bring something back to Rory,” she said. “Maybe we can find some river rocks or new candies.”

“Shells,” said Sitting Bear. “He likes ocean shells.”

“Shells it is,” Violet agreed. “The best, biggest, most prettiest shells California has to offer.” Going quiet, she listened to the rickety wheels beneath their car. Violet found Mei’s free hand and threaded their fingers together, listening to the beat of her heart. When this was over, and they could retire to Grammy’s farm in peace, Violet would make a whole wind chime of nothing but lovely shells. She would decorate their home with flowers, and stones, and pelts from Rory’s traps. She could almost see the five of them, huddled around the fire. Sitting Bear, with his long hair a silvery white. Perhaps Linus could convince Madam Hen to visit for Christmas. Rory would grow into a fine man, and she and Mei would settle into their twilight years, warm and content.

Violet wasn’t sure when she’d fallen asleep, but what felt like a blink later and they were coming into Butte. Mei was quick to usher them and their horses up and at the ready. When the train had slowed to a reasonable speed, the Railwalkers made their getaway before the rail-bulls knew any different.

They traveled through the bright afternoon, the sun peaking by two o’clock. As they rode, Linus broke out his harmonica to pass the time, with the occasional song by Sitting Bear. The air was more agreeable in California, and warmed Violet to the bone. Perhaps it was the pleasant weather, or the sound of song between them. Perhaps it was the way Maple picked up every few steps, as though in eagerness to get there. Perhaps, even more likely, they all knew that the end of their toil was close at hand. No matter what the reason, Violet was lighter this day. More hopeful. And ready to close the book on the criminal lives of the Railwalkers for good.

It only took a matter of days before the landscape began to shift. Their trails led them to a few rolling hillsides, with tall, wispy grass that Violet had never seen before. There was a caw of unusual white birds, and slowly, Violet began to notice the smell of salt. As they ascended a hill, Violet realized that there were no mountains facing them. No trees, no cliffs. Nothing but endless sky. The four cleared the mound, and before them lay a deep, blue ocean. There was a soft crashing as waves broke against a sandy surf. Rocks formed in bundles of jagged beauties, made slick with moss and sea spray. Creatures, fat and jolly, rolled indelicately upon the sand, soaking up the sun on their bellies. Some hawed, like deep-chested asses, and others flapped their flippers. Those strange white birds flocked to a massive rock, cawing and preening in the wind. One thing was for sure. This was no big lake.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Sitting Bear was the first to break Violet out of her spell. She hadn’t realized how long she’d been staring, and how still Maple stood. Sitting Bear threaded his fingers through Dove’s mane. “When the Caddi Ayo created the world, all the creatures in it lived within the ground. Only when they were brave enough to leave their caves could they enjoy what Caddi Ayo had created.” Sitting Bear closed his eyes, letting the salt air comb through his long, black locks. “I have seen so much in my life. But getting here was…painful.” He turned to Violet. “I had to leave my cave to see what life had in store for me. Leaving it was vicious. Cruel. I saw so many innocent lives die. So many souls tortured by evil men. But I believe, in a way, it was necessary.

“You have left your cave too, Violet. In a way not unlike my own. You were pulled from your cave. Forced into the light.” Sitting Bear took Violet’s shoulder and squeezed tenderly. “There are those who cannot survive as you have. Now, so close to the end, I want you to know…We are proud to have you with us.”

Stunned, Violet sat there for a moment, before trying to hide her emotion through nervous laughter. “What brought this on, Bear? Heaven’s mercy, I think that’s the most you’ve ever talked!” When she looked back, she was met with a smile.

“I had a lot of time to think of the perfect words,” he said.

“What are y’all stoppin’ for?” Mei called. She and Linus were already headed down the path towards the beach. “We ain’t in San Fran yet. Still gotta catch the ferry over.” Mei gestured down to a dock about half a mile off. There was a small boathouse nestled beside a rickety pier. They approached, joining the small crowd of folks waiting for the next ferry to arrive. As Mei bought their tickets, Violet took note of the people around her. First and foremost, there was a great mixing of colors the likes of which Violet had never seen. White working men, with their gritty hands and tangled beards, spoke easily with black and brown folk, clearly of the same stature. Children ran in and out of legs, some carrying odd wooden toys Violet couldn’t place. But what struck her the most about this crowd were the cluster of families speaking in a language she couldn’t even begin to understand. They wore silks and vibrant colors, with black hair done in intricate braids and buns. With them were mounds of possessions, perhaps all they owned in this world, wrapped up in rope and twine to keep from spilling over. Chinese immigrants, excitedly waiting to start their new lives in the American west.

As they waited, the Railwalkers sat themselves on a few overturned barrels. Their horses had joined the stable of other animals: goats, pigs, chickens, mules, and only one or two other mounts worth their salt. Linus broke out some old hard tack for them to share. As Violet nibbled, she kept glancing over to the Chinese families.

“Was that what it was like for your family, Mei?” she finally asked. Mei looked up from her canteen, following Violet’s gaze. “Did your parents come over like this? All grouped up and waiting for a boat?”

Mei chuckled. “I’m sure,” she said. “They never talked much about their past. Their only focus was what the future had in store for us. For me.”

“Did they wear clothes like that?” Violet asked. “All colorful and the like…And what’s that they’re eating? Looks like…looks like bread but, a ball? I think? That girl there, what’s that she’s got in her hair? And that fella next to her, what’s that on his neck? Oh—oh! Is that a tattoo? Mei, how come you don’t got a tattoo? I wonder what it is. Looks like a snake maybe. Or, wait, weren’t it you who told me about what Chinese dragons looked like? Like the one on your hairbrush? Maybe it’s that—”

“Violet.” Mei actually put her hand on Violet’s mouth, though she did so with a grand smile. “Lord above, you keep talking this fast and you won’t have a moment to breathe.”

“Sorry,” Violet said, taking her hand. “I just…I ain’t never seen so many Chinese folk. Hell, before you came along, I don’t think I seen a one of ‘em outside books!”

Mei shook her head. “Well, you’re about to see a lot more.”

“More?”

The whistle of the oncoming ferry broke the bustle of the crowd. Once the boat had docked, and the ramp was down, they piled on in droves. Violet was sure to keep the families in her sight, though the ferry was so small it wasn’t a hard task. Cramped onto the deck, Violet found a pocket of air by the railing and sat on a rickety crate. Another toot of the horn, the rope was pulled, and the ferry was off. Violet swayed with the waves, and with a delighted laugh, looked out again to the ocean. Somehow, it seemed even bigger now that her feet were not on dry land.

“I just realized,” she said, laying her chin against the rail. “I don’t think I’ve ever been on a boat before. Ain’t that somethin?” Mei sat on the deck beside her. Her ebony hair, loosening from its braid, danced in the wind. “I tell ya…There’s so much I ain’t never done before I met y’all.”

“That right?” Mei asked. Violet turned to her. Mei’s eyes were closed, and she had her head tilted up to the sunlight, enjoying the glow.

Violet smiled, admiring the sight. “You just had to get me outta my cave,” she said.

“Your what?”

“Oh, nothin’.”

The ferry ride went on for the better part of an hour. Violet had tried exploring the deck, but it proved to be a hard task to move around on unstable floor. After nearly falling the third time, she resigned herself to sit beside Mei and simply enjoy the scenery. That was, until she heard rattling coming towards her. Looking down, she spotted a tiny fleet of colorful marbles crash into her leg. She scooped them up just before they cascaded over the edge of the ship. As she did, three Chinese children stumbled towards her, their eyes set on the marbles. They were no older than five, and wore their hair in long braids under wool hats. Violet smiled and held the marbles out. The tallest of the three stepped forward. Violet guessed that they were a boy, though it was difficult to make out; children that young always looked so similar. Violet placed the clay marbles in the child’s hand, and he smiled in thanks.

“Hello,” said Violet gently. Violet gestured to the marbles. “Those are some good ones you got there. I like ‘em.” The children glanced at each other and giggled. Violet turned to Mei, who had taken a cat nap beside her. Violet shook her awake.

“Wha…” Sleepily, Mei cracked an eye open.

“How do you say ‘hello’?”

“What…? Whatd’ya mean…?” Mei spotted the children, who were now examining her clothes curiously. “Oh. Violet, I ain’t spoken nothin’ but English since I was their age.”

“What? You mean you don’t know a lick of Chinese?”

“I mean—” Mei noticed that one of the smaller children was toying with the holster of her Winchester. Mei quickly pulled it from their hands and sat it behind her, well out of reach. “I mean, there ain’t exactly one language, neither. My folks spoke Yue. But I had friends who spoke Xiang and Putonghua.” Mei yawned and scratched her head. “Not that I remember much.”

“But you gotta know something!” Violet pleaded. “Not even a ‘howdy’?”

Mei snorted. “That don’t exactly translate.” The taller child peered at her, as if trying to piece together why someone who looked like them was speaking like an American. Mei sighed. “Alright, lemme see…” Mei tapped her knee, thinking hard. Slowly, she spoke: “Zǐmen…nǐ hǎo.”

The children brightened and bowed their heads. They reminded Violet of birds, bobbing down to grab a drink of water. “Nǐ hǎo!” they echoed. “Nǐ xì biān dù lí? Nǐ xì biān gè?”

“Ugh…” Mei rubbed her forehead, slowly piecing together the right words. “Wǒ shì…měi…meigeuó rén…”

“Eeehhh!” The children hopped excitedly, as though Mei had given them the secrets of life. Violet, entranced, turned to Mei with delight.

“What’d you tell ‘em?!”

“They asked who I was,” said Mei. “Where I was from. Told ‘em I’m American, and I don’t think they believe it.”

“Meigeuó rén!” the children chanted. “Meigeuó rén! Meigeuó rén!” The smaller of the three, whose head was nearly shaved other than the ponytail beneath their hat, took Mei’s hand with glee.

“Wǒ dū xiǎng zuò měiguó lǎo!”

Mei chuckled, and Violet, like a cat with a mouse, clung to her shoulder. “What?” Violet demanded.

“He said he wants to be American, too.” Mei turned to Violet with a big smile. “I bet they think you gotta be special for it.” Mei caught sight of something just beyond Violet’s shoulders, and Violet turned to look. “Looks like we’re here.” Eyes fixated before her, Violet stood to get a better look of the horizon.

San Francisco. She’d heard about it. Certainly, she’d asked questions while on the trail. Nothing prepared her for what she saw. First, there were the boats. Bobbing in the bay was a forest of masts and rigging. Bells clanged, birds squawked. Fishermen pulled in their catches by the boatload. Beyond the water was the city itself. There wasn’t a square inch of land uncovered by construction. Buildings of every size, shape and color crowded the hills. The Gothic spire of a church sat squarely in the town center. The closer they got, the more Violet could hear the bustle of city life. The ringing, the clop of horse’s hooves, the shouts of roadside merchants. As the ferry docked, Violet was ushered with the others out and onto the boardwalk. The shift from sea to land left her legs wobbly, but she didn’t have time to notice. Eyes wide and mouth agog, Violet spun around every which way, trying to absorb any details she could.

“Vi!” Mei waved her closer as the boys brought down their steeds from the animal pen. “Stay close now. It’s easy to get lost in a place like this.” Violet nodded, her eyes still rifling through the hundreds of heads that bounded like the waves of the bay. As she looked around, she spotted the three Chinese children and their families getting themselves situated. The tallest child saw them and, with a smile, raced over to Violet’s side. He held out his little hands, urging Violet to reach out in kind. Violet did so, and the boy placed three marbles into her palm. With one last smile, he raced back to his mother, and the families vanished into the crowd.

Linus, who saw the exchange, nudged Violet with a grin. “Making friends already?” Violet chuckled and stuffed them into her side satchel. They would make a great gift for Rory’s next birthday.

Finding it easier to go on foot, they made sure their affects were latched on tightly to each horse’s saddle and led them further in. The city buildings stretched like great oaks, blocking out the glare of the ocean spray, and the uninhibited sun above them. The streets were narrow, with no sense of direction. Every new alley had something to glimpse at. The smells of spices, fruits, sweat, and filth vied for attention, and Violet’s head swam with every new sensation. Mei wasn’t kidding when she warned Violet about getting lost. Mei had to frequently tug on Maple’s bridle to keep Violet from wandering away. This was especially helpful when she’d nearly crossed the path of a strange carriage riding a thin railroad. Mei pulled Violet back just as the driver rang his bell, and continued on his way. Violet realized, with increasing awe, that the carriage had no horse to speak of. Like magic, it willed itself forward, rocking against its metal track.

“How in God’s name…?”

Mei gestured above. A weave of cables hovered over them. “Trolley car,” she said. “Nearly got run over myself last time we was here.”

“How does it…?” Violet continued to walk, though her eyes were glued on the retreating contraption. “How—how does—I mean it just—!”

Linus laughed. “Welcome to the modern world, Violet.”

They reached the boarding house after an hour of walking. It was a blue building, sitting on top of a steep hill surrounded by shops and markets. The faded sign out front read: “Bayside Boarding House.” There was a personal livery and stable connected to the side, and to their left as they approached, the angle was steep enough to gaze further into the city. Sitting Bear went to take care of the horses, while Mei led the other two inside.

The parlor was furnished well, though it wasn’t a wide room. The stairway was steeper than any Violet had ever seen, and quite a few photographs and impressed tin plates hung on the freshly stained walls. The parlor windows were open, letting in a calming sea breeze from just beyond the edge of the hills.

Mei rang the bell at the front desk, and a tiny woman with frizzled hair came out to greet them. She and Mei made small talk as she pulled out her guest book. “…came at the right time,” she was saying. “That new railway is bound to bring in a lot of workers from outside the city. Got to get while the gettin’s good.” Mei signed in the book and handed the pen to Violet to do the same. Out of curiosity, she read the line above her.

April 18th 1886—Ling Huī

A smile tickled Violet’s face as she signed.

April 18th 1886—Clementine White

Linus signed with his own fake name, and when Sitting Bear entered, was given a line as well. The landlady blew the ink dry and handed two sets of keys over. “One for the gentlemen,” she said, “and one for the ladies. We are, after all, a proper establishment, you understand.”

With one final thanks, the four headed upstairs and to their rooms. Each door was opposite each other at the end of the hallway, with the boys’ facing towards the city, and the girls’ toward the ocean. Mei unlocked their room and they stepped inside. A teeny, six-by-six foot, single bed room sat to greet them. There was an empty armoire, a wash bowl, and a vanity mirror, and not much else. The first thing Violet did was take off her jacket, walk to the window, and throw open the curtains. The vast horizon faded into leagues and leagues of sparkling ocean water. Violet laid her face against the cool glass, admiring it.

Without a word, Mei’s arms wrapped around her. Violet melted against Mei’s chest. The warmth of the afternoon crawled through their window, and the ocean’s song drowned out most of the bustle of the sprawling streets below. Violet laced their fingers together. Mei, very gently, laid a kiss on Violet’s neck.

“I thought this here was a proper establishment,” Violet joked.

Mei grinned. “Of course,” she said. “I can’t exactly make love in public, now, can I?” With a laugh and a kiss, the two fell to their new bed. Their reprieve from the world would not last long, but while it did, Violet was determined to enjoy every second she could.

* * * *

In her year with the Railwalkers, Violet felt as though she’d traveled from one side of the world to the other. And she’d thought, after the hundreds of miles she’d crossed, that she’d seen all there was to see. San Francisco was determined to show Violet how wrong she was. Their first week there, Violet dragged Mei along with her all throughout the city. They ate at roadside cafés, walked the streets at night, watched the sunrise through the murky fog. As a surprise gift, Mei even bought them tickets for a local theater. Violet hadn’t seen a play since she was a small girl, and the evening was full of laughter and drinks and questionable company. But nothing, nothing, compared to Chinatown.

It was another beautiful day in a streamline of several beautiful days. Mei and Violet had taken a stroll for the afternoon, lost in conversation. They had rounded a corner, Violet excitedly babbling about wanting to try a restaurant she’d seen the other night, when she heard several sudden bangs. Violet immediately reached for her gun, but Mei took her arm gently. “It’s just firecrackers,” she said.

“Fire what…?” Violet turned towards the noise. Instead of a scene of gunned-down bystanders, she saw what looked like some sort of parade. Several Chinese folk, dressed in red silks, walked down the street in lines of two, carrying banners and flags and umbrellas made out of paper. They looked like a flock of beautiful birds, singing and dancing down the street. In the center of the procession was a woman, also in red, sitting in a chair carried by four men. Her hair was done up in beads and ribbon, and from her parasol was an overhang of thin fabric, protecting her from the sunlight. Even obscured, Violet saw her beauty clear as day.

Violet let out a low whistle. “That’s a whole lot of red.” She turned to Mei. “What are they up to?”

“Looks like a wedding,” said Mei.

“A wedding?” Violet once again scanned the parade. “I ain’t never seen a wedding with so much red in it. My pa had enough money to buy my mama a white dress for their wedding. She still has it, I think. Probably wanted me to wear it one day.” Not like that was possible now. “Do y’all always wear red for weddings?”

Mei smiled, and led Violet down the street, parallel to the parade. “It’s a lucky color,” she said. “My father always liked to keep a little red in the house. Same with my mother. In fact…looking back, I think she did have a red dress that she kept nicer than all the others.” Mei nudged Violet, who was staring, enraptured, at the tail end of the party. “I guess she was saving that for me, too.”

Violet grinned and, without thought, took Mei’s hand in hers. “So what else is different about a Chinese wedding? It sure seems a helluvah lot more fun, for starters. I remember when Mrs. Darcy got married back in Redrock. We had to dress all up and go to church for an hour in the heat. I hated it.”

Mei laughed. “Why? That sounds like a damn good time to me.” Violet shot Mei a look and Mei kissed her knuckles. “That procession was probably the bride on her way to the groom’s home. That one there looked rich enough to get carried. My own mother was too poor for a sedan.” Mei caught Violet’s curious eyes. “It’s a sorta…box they put the bride in. So she don’t have to walk. Anyway, they walk the bride over to meet the groom, they get married, and everyone fills up on food. At least, that’s the gist of it. I only ever been to one, myself. When my father worked the railroad, a friend of his got engaged. I don’t remember too much, ‘cept the food was real good.”

Speaking of food, warm air, filled with spices and sauces and sweet sugars, came to greet Violet abruptly. Turning away from the parade, she saw a small stand full of meats and sizzling sounds. Mei bought them a lion’s share of dumplings (though they looked like no dumplings Violet had ever seen before) and shared a small pot of tea. After that, they visited toy shops and craftsmen, seamstresses and cobblers. They watched children play, and listened to the street urchins and their music. By the time they’d reached the end of the street, Violet wondered if they should be getting back, when she spotted something around the corner.

In a small plaza courtyard, fenced off by brick and plank, was the wedding procession. No longer marching, they were all sitting around a massive table, full to the brim with hot food and endless drink. A musician sat in the corner, singing and playing on a strange, long-necked guitar. At the head sat the bride and groom, both done up in brilliant red. She watched as the groom gently fed his bride with chopsticks. They, and the families around them, were all smiles. Violet felt a sudden pang in her heart as she observed the happy couple. A strange idea filled her head. It was an embarrassing thought, which took Violet by surprise. After everything, she didn’t know if she could feel embarrassed, yet the idea was a childish one. Like a little girl wanting to play house. She wondered, as she looked at the newlyweds, what it might feel like to be at the head of that table, eating and drinking and laughing, with Mei beside her.

“Violet?” Mei’s voice pulled her out of her head, and she turned. “You went quiet there, girl. Getting tired?”

“Not really…” Violet took one last look at the plaza, before she took Mei’s hand, and they walked back into the street. “You ever thought about getting married?” The question felt dumber when said aloud. “I mean…I suppose not once you figured you liked ladies, but…maybe when you was young?”

Mei chuckled. “I never did,” she admitted. “But I’m sure my mother thought about it constantly. If there’s one thing I’ll always remember about my parents, it was their want to give me a better life than they had. They were happy people, but they were poor. I suppose my mother dreamed of me marrying someone rich. A nice man with plenty of property and salary to keep me comfortable. Keep me safe. Heh…I dunno what she’d think of me these days, if I’m being honest.”

Violet nodded. “My mama wasn’t much different. She kept pushing me towards a man named Eustace Carpenter. Goddamn ape of a fella, I tell you what. But his family owned land. My family owned land. It was a good match.” They paused, watching a horse and carriage cross their path. “Funny. I dunno if my mama ever wanted me to marry someone I loved.” She turned to Mei, who stood in thoughtful silence. “I’m sure both our mamas wanted what they thought was best. Someone sturdy, someone wealthy, to keep us comfortable. But I dunno if love was ever a consideration. You think?”

After the carriage cleared their path, Mei walked them across the road and up the hill towards their boarding house. “S’pose not,” was all she said. Violet was worried that she’d struck a nerve, but Mei didn’t seem upset. More contemplative than anything. Which was why Violet finally asked the question on the tip of her tongue.

“Think you’d wanna marry me? I mean…if we could.” Her neck burned the moment Violet had uttered the words, but she didn’t dare try to take them back. She tried to look anywhere but Mei’s eyes, yet she felt them on her immediately. Violet felt Mei’s arms around her waist, and with no consideration to the people around them, Mei kissed Violet’s forehead. It only made Violet’s face hotter, but she was grateful.

“If we could? In a heartbeat.”

Finally, Violet looked up, and saw those beautiful, black eyes twinkle in the sunlight. Violet’s heart skidded wildly in her chest, and she smiled. Mei’s smile widened, and she playfully tugged on Violet’s chin. “Look at you. Gettin’ all pink and whatnot. You keep bein’ this sweet and I’m gonna have to eat you up.”

“Mei!” Now overflowing with embarrassment, Violet playfully pushed at Mei’s shoulders, the pair laughing gayly. Fortunately, no one around them seemed to care a lick, which was why Violet felt no qualms with leaning in kissing Mei right there in the street. Once their moment was over, Mei suggested they visit another dumpling stand to bring the boys a snack. Violet agreed, and they headed to the closest kiosk they could find. While Mei choppily spoke her family tongue, Violet observed the street. It was like the world’s greatest painting. Every corner had something new to look at. And one small detail suddenly garnered her immediate attention.

“Alright.” Mei showed off the linen bag with pride. “Let’s head home before these get cold.”

“Oh.” Violet stalled, and quickly turned from her point of interest, lest Mei caught onto what she was thinking. “Why don’t you head on back yourself? I think I’m going to walk a bit more.”

“Are you sure?”

“Mhm.”

“Well…alright then.” With a quick kiss, Mei turned to leave. “Don’t be out too long. Try not to get lost.”

“I’ll be fine.” She waited until Mei was around the corner and out of sight. Giddy, she walked across the street to the small tailor in a covered shop. The tailor was a tiny man, barely half Violet’s size, hunched over a loom and a few sewing supplies. His fingers worked swiftly, putting together a beautiful piece of green silk. He looked up, squinting behind his glasses, as Violet approached. “Uh…howdy,” she said. The tailor smiled politely and nodded his head. “You speak any English, friend?” The blank stare in his eyes gave Violet her answer. “Well…I suppose it’s no great problem.” Digging into her pocket, she pulled out a small wad of money. The tailor’s face lit up, and he stood with his hands clasped and ready to serve. Money needed no translation, it seemed.

“Right…” Violet pointed. “I’d like you to wrap them two up for me, please.”

* * * *

It was mid-afternoon by the time Violet returned to the boarding house. The sun had only a few hours left in the sky, yet the wind stayed reasonably warm. Passing the stables, she gave Maple a pet and walked inside. Their landlady—Ms. Gina—was behind the counter, balancing her books. She caught sight of Violet and smiled. “Welcome back, Miss Clementine. Got some shopping done?” She gestured to the parcels under Violet’s arm.

“Spent a little more than I was hoping,” Violet admitted, “but they’re for a special occasion.”

“Oh?” Ms. Gina leaned against her counter with delight. “What’s the occasion?” But Violet only smiled, and Ms. Gina giggled. “Alright, a secret it is, then. Your friends are all out back, if you’re looking for them.”

“Thank you, ma’am.” Violet tipped her hat and went out the back door. Behind the boarding house was a small clearing with tables and chairs, perfect for outside dining and admiring the sunset over the sea. Sure enough, there were the rest of the Railwalkers, enjoying a drink and a chat. Linus was the first to spot Violet, and waved.

“There she is,” he said as she sat beside Mei. “Where’ve you been, Vi?”

“Around.” She laid the parcels on the table. There were three in total, two large and one small, all done up in brown paper and twine. Although she leaned back in her chair and accepted a drink from Sitting Bear, inside, she was anything but calm. Violet had once heard that butterflies in your stomach happened when you were around your sweetheart. Violet didn’t have butterflies. She had wild geese in her gut, flapping and squawking and kicking up a storm.

“I was just telling them about earlier,” Mei said. She glanced at the parcels on the table, finishing the last of her whiskey and soda water. “So? What’d you come home with?”

“Ah. Well. Nothing much.” Violet laughed, which came out a bit like a donkey, and she drank her glass down far quicker than she meant to. She coughed, and quickly cleared her throat to try and cover the sound. “One uh…one of ‘em’s for you, actually.” Violet set the top parcel on Mei’s lap, her eyes fixated on her empty glass. “Lemme know if you don’t like it. I can get you somethin’ else…”

Mei undid the twine and opened up the packaging. As she pulled back the top bit of paper, the other two leaned in, curious to see its contents. Mei’s eyes widened, and her lips parted. Reaching in, she pulled out a long, beautiful, red silk tunic. The sleeves were embroidered with gold thread, with matching flowers along the hems. The buttons were ivory pegs, and beneath the tunic was a dress of the same caliber and color. It slid against her fingers, like water, and glistened in the sunlight.

Linus whistled, impressed by the craftsmanship. “Well, that sure is pretty. What is it?”

“It’s a hung kwa,” said Mei, amazed.

“A what?”

“Violet.” Mei slowly turned to her, lowering the tunic. “You got me a wedding dress.” Sitting Bear and Linus rounded to Violet, their mouths agog. But Violet didn’t seem surprised. Matter of fact, Violet couldn’t stop smiling. Heart pounding, Violet stood from her seat and casually pushed aside her chair. She dug into her pocket, and rounded to Mei.

“I dunno how they do this in China. So I hope you don’t mind.” Violet lowered herself to one knee and pulled out two rings. They were simple and gold, with small gemstones embedded in the band. The right was red, the left was blue. “I’d be lost without you, Mei. You’re everything to me, and so much more. We can’t have no real wedding, but we could have one that would matter. One before our friends, and the eyes of God Himself. That’d be enough for me. What do you say?

“Will you marry me, Mei Wong?”

Linus’s jaw was practically on the floor. Sitting Bear had the biggest smile Violet had ever seen on his face. But Violet paid neither one any attention. All that mattered was Mei, the woman Violet loved more than herself, and the look of awe in her tearful eyes. Gently, Mei set aside the gown, and leaving her seat, fell to her knees in front of Violet. Her arms wrapped around Violet’s, and they embraced. Tightly, honestly, and with love. Mei, it seemed, had lost her voice. But as she pulled away, Violet saw tears of joy. She herself was overwhelmed with emotion, and tried to contain herself to no avail. Mei kissed Violet’s face in every inch, causing the boys to burst into gleeful laughter. The girls followed suit. Finally, Violet took Mei’s left hand and slid the red jeweled ring onto her finger. Mei took the blue ring and placed it on Violet’s. Again, they embraced, and Linus leaned over with a giddy smile.

“Easy now!” he said. “If y’all want a wedding, you might wanna wait till we actually have the thing.”

Smiling so hard her cheeks hurt, Violet stood, helping Mei to her feet. “Oh, this is for you, too.” Violet took the small package and put it in Mei’s hand.

“Another?”

“That bride we saw had her hair all fancy like. Figured you’d want to do the same. So I got a few things.”

Again, Mei laughed. She constantly wiped away the tears on her cheeks, though there always seemed to be more. “Well…S’pose we should get dressed, shouldn’t we?” With that, Violet scooped up the last package, and she and Mei went inside the boarding house. Ms. Gina certainly noticed their fresh twitter, but had the good sense to merely smile from the counter and leave them to their devices.

Deciding it was best to change separately, Mei took their room, while Violet went into the boys’. Opening up her own package, she held her tunic up in the mirror. Unlike Mei’s gift, Violet’s tunic was a blue robe, trimmed with thick panels of ivory silk. The high collar was hemmed with black, and colorful blossoms were embroidered into sections of the fabric. She’d decided to skip the skirt for her part (mostly because she was out of money by the time she was buying for herself), so she was sure to wear her best pair of jeans underneath. Which was easy to do; she only had two pairs to choose from. She combed her hair the best she could, borrowing some of Linus’s pomade to keep her cowlicks flat. She washed her face, cleaned and trimmed her nails, and shined her shoes. Once she was ready, she slid on the robe and buttoned it. She was just turning to leave when she spotted a tree branch outside Linus’s window. White buds were beginning to blossom among the fresh spring leaves. Opening the window, she plucked a few of the more full flowers and affixed them to her short hair. She admired her reflection. Violet felt like a woman worthy of marrying someone like Mei.

When she left the boarding house, she did not find Linus and Sitting Bear where she had left them. Instead, she spotted them down the small path that led to the tiny beach below the hillside. It seemed that while she and Mei were getting dressed, Linus and Sitting Bear were staying busy. Down on the sand, Linus had used one of their spare saddle blankets to mark out an altar. Sitting Bear had gathered what flowers he could and was busy tying them in bundles of colorful arrangements. As Violet approached, Linus looked up from the notebook he was writing in and beamed.

“You’re a picture of a dream, Miss Violet,” he cooed.

“Ain’t it somethin’ else?” Violet held out her sleeves, showing off the tunic in the sunlight. “I can’t wait to see what Mei looks like.” Violet spotted Linus furiously scribbling in his journal, and she tilted her head. “What’s that you’ve got, Linus?”

“Every wedding needs an officiant,” Linus replied, smiling as he wrote. He looked over his glasses. “I hope you don’t mind, but I’ve volunteered myself for the honor.”

“Mind it? Oh, Linus.” Violet hugged Linus tight, and he returned the favor. “Where would we be without you?”

Linus laughed. “I can’t say you’d find more entertaining company.” Shutting his book for now, Linus took Violet’s hands. His smile, ever kind, ever present, put Violet at ease in a whole new way. Leaning forward, he kissed both of Violet’s cheeks. “We all love you, Violet. And when this is over, we’ll start our life as a family. All of us.” Sitting Bear nodded, and handed Violet a bouquet. It was a beautiful display of purples, yellows, and oranges. Violet inhaled it deeply. Sitting Bear lifted his head, and with a deep voice, he spoke:

“It’s time.”

Violet turned. There, coming down the winding pathway, was Mei. She wore her gown with grace and dignity. The red color was vibrantly gorgeous among the green brush and the yellow sand. Her hair, now braided and pinned on top of her head, was adorned with beads and ribbon. The setting sun sewed oranges and golds into the sheen of Mei’s black hair, and softened her warm skin. Her beauty was otherworldly, and had Violet utterly transfixed. As Mei approached, she took her place at Violet’s side, and Violet took her hand tenderly. Sitting Bear handed Mei her matching flowers, and took a step back. Linus opened his notebook to the proper page and cleared his throat.

“Dearly beloved,” he began. “We are gathered here today to join these hands in loving matrimony. Two hearts, while not impartial, have come together as one, and will only grow in strength. Two women, while not incomplete, have built a life against all odds, and will now rise to the new challenge. The challenge to have, to hold, to love through sickness. Through health. To love through anger, and death. The life we have chosen, dear friends, is a life which rarely sees true happiness. And yet, with the horrors of the world stacked against them, these two valiant woman saw to it to survive, to thrive, and now, to defy all who would deny them.

“Mei. Do you take this woman to be your wedded wife until your dying day?”

“I do.”

“And Violet. Do you take—”

“Yes.”

Mei stifled a laugh. “Sorry,” said Violet. “Ask me again.”

Linus, grinning from ear to ear, began again. “Violet. Do you take this woman to be your wedded wife until your dying day?”

Violet looked to Mei. A small strand of hair had gotten loose from her bun, and now rested beneath one eye. Violet hoped to capture this moment for as long as there was breath in her body. “I do,” she said.

“Today, we see the marriage of Mei Wong and Violet Donovan. From strangers, to allies, to friends, and finally, to lovers and family. In our eyes, and in the eyes of our friends, it is my honor and my privilege to pronounce you married. You may kiss the bride.”

And Violet did. Wrapped up together, they shared their first kiss as wife and…well, wife. When they broke apart, Linus and Sitting Bear applauded, the latter of whom was silently weeping into his extra bundle of flowers.

After the ceremony, Mei and Violet changed into more comfortable clothes, and the four of them hit the town. Linus and Sitting Bear insisted on buying the newlyweds rounds of drinks and food as a wedding gift. Neither Mei nor Violet would object. They went from bar to bar, drinking and eating and making merry. At one point, Linus treated the whole saloon to a serenade and a few dances. Sitting Bear ended up procuring a line of would-be arm wrestlers, none of whom won. Any extra money earned was turned around to more drinks, more food, and more delighted company. Violet, of course, did not leave Mei’s side. And perhaps the world had graced them on this special day, because never once did their affections turn a strange eye or a curious look. Or perhaps it did, and Violet was just too happy to notice. Sometime after midnight, a scuffle broke out. Violet was too drunk to figure out who started it or why, but she happily jumped into the brawl. They were kicked out of their final saloon by two o’clock in the morning.

It was a good night.

Piss drunk and bubbly, the four waddled their way back to the boarding house. They tried not to wake up the whole damn place stumbling in, though Violet was sure there would be some complaints in the morning. Somehow, they made it upstairs, into their respective rooms, and collapsed into their beds. Their fingers laced together, Violet let the early morning woo her to sleep, with Mei securely by her side.

Chapter 18

Violet awoke on the morning of May 1st in a cold sweat. A chill had crept in through the cracks of the cabin and roused her hours before sunrise. They were no longer staying at the cozy boarding house by the bay. No, they had checked out exactly five days ago to help build up their alibi. That kind of comfort, it seemed, was a luxury they could only afford for a short time. After checking out of their rooms, they ventured outward, and located the train yard owned by Jacob Abernathy DeWitt. When they found it, there were very few people on the premises. Mostly early comers to sign up for work. There were tents set up in rows, half of them still empty. Such a setting would have been ample time to kill Abernathy in a swift blow. But, after endless canvasing of the area, it was clear that the man himself was not present. He would, however, be arriving within the week, or so they were told. And so, surveying the immediate land around the train yard, the Railwalkers found themselves a deserted cabin a mere mile from the premises. It had been an old prospector’s home, with rusty tools and filthy floors. But it housed the four of them easily, and gave them a base of operations to stay low to the ground.

Taking a deep breath, Violet slowed her heart and leaned up against the log wall. She shivered, hoisting the fur up to her breast. She was wondering if she should try and sleep a little longer, when she realized that the bed beside her was empty, and there was already a sound of tinder by the hearth. Violet sat up to find Mei at the fireplace, starting a bit of kindling beneath their coffee pot. The boys, who had taken up various hay piles in either empty corner of the cabin, were still asleep, and Sitting Bear was snoring deeply.

“You’re awake. Good.” Mei kept her eyes on her work, fanning the embers until a small fire started. She spooned in a bit of their coffee grounds and set the pot center on the iron rack. “We head out in an hour.”

Violet rubbed her eyes and placed her feet on the icy ground. “We got any eggs left?” she asked.

Mei shook her head and handed her a chunk of hard tack. “Sorry.” It was better than nothing, at least. Crunching into the corner, Violet watched Mei mill about the cabin, futzing with her gun, swaying from foot to foot, and waiting for the coffee to boil.

“Did you get any sleep?”

“Couldn’t.”

Violet side and scooted from her spot. She pat the bed beside her and Mei took a seat. “It’ll work.”

“We don’t know that,” Mei said, glaring at the ground. “He’s seen us before. He could recognize us.”

“We’ll be four in a sea of hundreds. Maybe even thousands.” Violet gently tucked a strand of hair behind Mei’s ear. “It ain’t like you to be so caught in your own head. We just have to be careful, is all. Careful and ready to strike when the moment presents itself.” Mei gave no response. “Mei. Look at me.” She did. “We’ll catch the bastard. We’ll catch him, and we’ll kill him, and then it’ll be over.”

Mei leaned forward, their foreheads pressed up against each other. “I hope so.”

“I know so.”

Sitting Bear and Linus were up twenty minutes later. They had their coffee and their hard tack, with a few spare pieces of jerky to go around. Violet couldn’t wait to have Rory catch them some fresh game the next time they saw each other. She missed rabbit stew.

Once they’d eaten, it was time to change. During their time in the city, they’d procured bits and pieces of clothing to help them fit in. An old miner’s hat, some baggy jackets, a few questionable long johns, some worn-out boots. Mei had even found an old set of men’s traditional work-wear down in Chinatown. All she had to do was keep quiet, and most couldn’t tell there was a woman under all that fabric. By the time they were ready, the four of them looked like nothing but low-grade workers, ready to make a meager paycheck. It helped, of course, that the loose clothes were able to hide their weapons. They’d need to find deposit spots for Mei’s Winchester and Sitting Bear’s shotgun, but Linus and Violet had an easy enough time pocketing their pistols. Until then, the bigger guns were stuffed under coats and kept strapped to the back, well out of sight.

They walked on foot as the sun rose. Talk was minimal. None of them felt particularly chatty. The fact of the matter was, they all wanted this over with, and over with fast. Coming around the bend, the found a crowd of workers lining up to sign to a registry. Without so much as a goodbye, the four Railwalkers split into different lines, and folded into the crowd like salmon up a stream. Eventually, Violet lost sight of every one of her friends. She shuffled through the line, surrounded by chewed up prospectors and young bucks looking to earn an living. When she finally got to the front table, a finely tailored gentleman with glasses sat waiting for her. He was long and wiry, with bushy sideburns and narrow shoulders.

“Name?” he asked, keeping his eyes on his open book.

“C. White,” said Violet, hoping to keep her voice low. No luck. The registrar looked up at the effeminate tone in Violet’s voice and squinted.

“Pardon me, ma’am,” he said bluntly, “but if you’re lookin’ for cookin’ work, it’s around the corner there—”

“I ain’t here for cookin’ work,” said Violet abruptly. “It don’t pay half as well as layin’ track, that’s fer damn sure.” The man’s eyebrows shot up at Violet’s language. Violet doubted that he hadn’t heard worse, but something told her that it was Violet’s sex that caused the man to pause. He’d probably never heard a woman swear his whole life. “Just write me down, will ya? I’d do it m’self but I ain’t to good with my letters.”

The gentlemen put his pen aside with a deep frown. “Ma’am, this here is dangerous work. I can’t in good conscious sign a young lady up to do what these fellas do.”

“Why not?”

“Well…It’s long hours. In the hot sun. Not to mention how dangerous it gets when trains start to run the tracks. And there’s plenty of lifting, as well.”

“Liftin’, huh?” Violet eyed the area. She spotted a pair of men heaving a sack of nuts and bolts between them. By the look of both their faces, they were nearly passed out from the weight of the thing. So much so that they paused to drop it, letting it slap the ground in a cloud of dust. Violet gestured to the bag. “Like liftin’ that there?”

The gentleman turned and spotted the bag. The two men carrying it were now fanning themselves and blotting their faces. “Yes,” he said. “There will be a lot of tools and materials transferred from one place to the next. We need men who can bear them kinds of loads, ma’am.”

Violet smiled. With no ceremony at all, she approached the bag. It was teeming with all kinds of metal odds and ends; pikes, hammers, nuts, bolts. By the look of it, it was possibly eighty pounds or more. Violet took each end, and after a little positioning, hoisted the heavy sack into the air and on her shoulder. Once she got it situated, she turned to the registrar, who had nearly toppled over in his chair. “So? You gonna sign me up or not?”

The man gaped, like a freshly caught fish, and finally turned back to his open book. “White, was it?”

Violet grinned and rounded to the two equally gobsmacked workers behind her. “Where do you need this one, fellas?” Timidly, one of them pointed a few yards away. Violet whistled as she walked it over, no problems in the slightest. Safe to say, her first day on the job would go over without much fuss.

Once she was set up, she was assigned a tent, though not exactly in the same area as the rest of the men. She was put up with a young Chinese wife and her baby girl. It wasn’t ideal, given how far it was from the main building of the train yard, but Violet wouldn’t complain. It was safer for her to blend in with the women anyhow. The last thing she needed was some tough rail worker getting drunk and frisky and Violet having to blow the poor bastard’s head off. It was an easy way to lose her cover. The work, as promised, was grueling. Although it was only the first day, there was much to set up and move aside before any construction could even happen. Violet joined a line of pickers, who dutifully broke rocks and dug trenches in preparation for the new track. Violet kept up but didn’t expend unnecessary energy. Fortunately, there weren’t many of her fellow workers who expected much out of her. This let Violet use her wits to keep track of everything in her new surroundings.

In her section, there were five foremen who watched over the premises. Numbers one and two took the morning shift, both fat-bellied bulldogs who constantly barked at the men to move faster, and work harder. Numbers three through five walked the afternoon shift, and only differentiated between the first two from the color of their vests. Beyond the foremen, there were various smaller leaders among the workers, none of whom seemed to be directly connected with Abernathy’s company. So Violet was safe to rule them out as possible obstacles.

At dinner, there was stew and water to go around. Violet would admit, even with her pacing, it was an exhausting job, and she was so famished that she licked her tin plate clean. Supper went much the same, only this time, Violet had a little more time to relax, and in her case, scout.

As the men settled by a few fires and shared a bottle of watered-down whiskey, Violet swallowed a cup of stale coffee to perk up her energy (admittedly, sleep sounded wonderful after the long day working) and walked the perimeter. She’d been kept to the upper left of the area, and decided to make her way towards the center. With her coat up and her hat down, Violet was just another worker, woman or not. Getting closer to the main building, Violet took a decent look around.

It was a wide warehouse, with open barn doors to accommodate future tracks. One track already pointed out of its northern side, but it looked like at least three more would stem from within its walls. There was a turnstile inside, and within it sat Abernathy’s foremen. Their clothes were barely rustled compared to the hundreds of hard laborers they’d snapped at all day, and their food looked and smelled considerably better.

Beside the warehouse was a smaller, less assuming building with a light on. It looked like an office building of some kind, with a few bungalows behind it to accommodate Abernathy’s higher paid men. One in particular was larger than the rest, and while they seemed rather temporary in their construction—tin buildings always were—the last bungalow had a certain feel of superiority to it. Violet’s heart raced as she pieced together who would be staying there.

“Violet.”

Mei’s whisper caught Violet totally off guard, and she whipped around, her hand reaching for her Smith & Wesson. Fortunately, the sight of Mei calmed her down, and the pair of them slipped back further in the shadows. They both stared at the bungalows in trepidation.

“That’s the one?” Mei asked.

“Seems like.” Violet peered further into the darkness. “I don’t see no lights. Could be out?”

Mei shook her head. “My section is close to the main road. I didn’t see no one worth seein’ move in or out today. My guess is he ain’t even here yet.” Mei shifted slightly, and spotted a few drunk workers sing and sway in their general direction. Mei tilted her head, and Violet agreed. They walked casually into the night, avoiding the wandering eyes of their drunken coworkers. “What kinda man don’t show up on time to his own work site?” Mei seethed, her eyes jumping back to the empty bungalow. “Rotten fucker. It’s like he’s biding his time on purpose.”

“He’ll come,” Violet assured her.

“He better.” Somewhere along their walk, they went quiet, contemplating their next moves. Unlike the city, where Violet felt empowered to take Mei’s hand on their strolls, she didn’t dare do so here. If it wasn’t the middle of the night, Violet wasn’t sure if Mei would even let her walk by her side.

“How long do you think we’ll be here?” Violet asked.

“As long as it takes.”

“But how long do you think?”

Mei huffed in agitation. “I don’t know, Vi.”

“The longer we stay—”

“I know.” She took a deep breath and stopped walking. “The longer we stay, the bigger the risk.” Violet dug her hands in her pockets. She ran her thumb against her wedding ring, and it pleased her to see Mei’s own square on her finger, too. Mei spoke again. “I know you’re anxious to have this over with. Believe me, I know. But I’ve been hunting this man practically my entire life. Since I was fourteen years old, Violet. This has to end here. We have to make this a perfect kill. If we don’t…it won’t end. It just won’t.”

“I know, Mei. I know.” With one cursory glance around them, Violet stepped forward and took Mei’s hands in the moonlight. She slipped her wife a simple kiss. Perhaps the only one she dared even try around here. “I’m ready for the Railwalkers to die. And I’m ready for our lives to start.”

Mei let a smile slip through, and she nodded. Her eyes scanned the area once more, and they let their hands go. “I’ll keep an eye on the main road. We’ll meet here every night until he shows his ugly face. And then? We end this.”

Violet nodded. “And then we end this.”

Days passed. Then weeks. The work stayed consistent, and unrelenting. Violet had gotten more than one reprimand for being slow on the job, and a threat to dock her pay. Violet would only nod and promise to do better, but stayed her course. The last thing she needed was working so hard she had no energy left to hunt the grounds at night. By the end of the twelfth day, she’d learned the schedules of all the foremen, both during the work-day and generally when they decided to retire. So far, all four of the Railwalkers had gone unnoticed by the higher ups. Sitting Bear had a few eyes his way, but it was thankfully only in awe of his strength and stamina. No one, so far, had an inkling as to who they were and why they were there.

Violet had also gotten to know her tent mate and daughter. What little English the woman knew told Violet that her name was Biyu Li, and the daughter was Chen. They worked with the few other women and wives on the property as cooks and laundry maids. Before meeting with the others every evening, Violet was sure to smuggle a little extra food and water to Biyu and Chen, who were fed, but just barely. Violet discovered that Biyu was only seventeen, and she and her husband had moved to America while she was pregnant. Despite the long hours, and the constantly hungry infant in her arms, Biyu was unbroken in her optimism. She was certain that once the railroad was built, the family would find prosperity in America, their new home of opportunity. Violet wished, more than anything, that they would find it.

It was dinner time. Violet was unsure what day it was, but after some rough estimation, she realized that they’d been on the property for over a fortnight now. Fourteen whole days and still no sign of Abernathy. She was beginning to wonder if Abernathy was even coming, or if this whole operation was done in his name alone.

After wolfing down her chuck and cornbread, she meandered towards the main road. The sun was directly above her, pelting down on her hot, sweaty neck. She’d taken to wrapping a ripped sand bag around her shoulders to keep the burn off. It helped, but was scratchy as all get out. As Violet walked, she wondered if she should chance walking into the other sections, to see if she could find Linus or Sitting Bear for a quick chat, and maybe even a song or a drink. It felt like an eternity since they’d had that leisure time.

That’s when a dust cloud drummed up at the edge of the road. Violet turned to look, when she saw a horse and coach drive up the road. Violet hung back, and kept her hat turned low as it passed. She watched it from beneath her brim, noticing its pristine white rims and glossy finish. When she felt safe enough to look properly, she watched the coach park itself by the farthest tin bungalow. Casually as she could manage, Violet approached.

First, the driver left his seat. After patting the horses, he unloaded the small mound of luggage on top of the coach, taking it into the bungalow. Second, the door to the coach opened, and out stepped two long legs, draped in a pair of fine, tweed trousers. Stepping out from behind the coach, Jacob Abernathy DeWitt stood to observe his work site, content with the sprawl of his army of labor.

Violet ducked behind a stack of crates and waited. She was less than twenty yards away and was able to hear bits and pieces of conversation. Fortunately, it didn’t seem like she’d been seen, and she chanced one last look from out behind the crates. She was prepared for anything, even ready and willing to shoot Abernathy from where she stood.

Well…almost anything.

“Boy!” Abernathy suddenly snapped. “Hop to it! I need my effects sorted now. And be careful with that there, it’s worth more than you are.”

“Yes, sir. Sorry, sir.”

That voice. That quiet, squeaky, young voice. It dropped Violet’s stomach like a rock into icy waters. Peering into the bungalows, she saw her worst fears come to light. A shock of red hair. Two tiny arms hoisting up a piece of luggage twice their size. And a face, smudged with dirt and freckles.

“Rory…”

Click. Violet felt something cold and hard press into her lower back. Her body tensed up, and she stopped all movement, even her breath.

“Afternoon, Miss Donovan,” came Marshal Hearst’s voice. “Shall we have a chat?”

* * * *

Violet sat in that room for she didn’t know how long. Hearst had escorted her around the back of the warehouse into a small storeroom, where he locked her in for hours. It was barely a four-by-four foot area, crammed with a few spare parts and tools. There were no windows, and she could only guess at the time of day from the light in the door crack. Of course, she tried busting it down. But either Hearst had barred the door with something extra, or that flimsy shed had one hell of a lock on it. She’d managed to dent the wood by slamming into it repeatedly, but in the end, all she had was a few splinters and a sore shoulder. Of course, if Hearst hadn’t found her gun, she’d have an upper hand. Alas, it seemed the Marshal had learned her tricks, and she was left totally defenseless. The only thing she had to count on was the endless junk around her, and she had settled on a small wooden mallet. It would barely make a dent in a decent man’s skull, but it was better than nothing.

Finally, after endless attempts at escape, Violet found an upturned bucket and sat. She waited. And waited. Occasionally, she felt the western most wall of the shed, and realized she could guess the time by judging the warmth of the wood. On her fifth check, the wood had cooled considerably. It was sundown. It was then that she heard a pair of footsteps head her way. She stood and clutched the mallet tightly with both hands. Something big and metal was shoved out of the way of the door, and a key undid an external lock. When the door opened, she was greeted to Marshal Hearst’s gun aimed directly for her chest.

“Not an inch, Miss Donovan.” Violet clung to her mallet, until Hearst shifted his gun, instructing her to drop it. She did so.

“I thought you were gonna shoot me the next time we met,” said Violet.

“So did I,” Hearst agreed. “That was until I found new employment with Mr. DeWitt. Speaking of, he would like a word with you.” Hearst smiled faintly. “Maybe then I’ll get to make good on that promise. Come on.”

Hearst yanked her arm and guided her out of the shed and across the property. Violet focused only on her steps ahead of her. If she happened to catch eyes with one of the other Railwalkers, it could compromise their whole plan. And so, she kept her head low, and her mind focused. There was still time to salvage this.

Hearst brought Violet to the back bungalow and knocked. “Mr. DeWitt!” Hearst called. “I have her, sir.”

“Good,” came Abernathy’s voice. “The door is unlocked, Mr. Hearst.” Hearst opened it and shoved Violet inside.

For a tin bungalow, it wasn’t bad. It had been freshly furnished with a feather mattress, some curtains to keep out the glare, a wardrobe, wash bin, and writing desk. There were even several expensive kerosene lamps to keep the place well-lit and comfortable, and a rug to keep the floor warm. But it wasn’t the décor that caught Violet’s eye. It was Rory, bent over a pair of shoes, shining them vigorously. When the door opened, he looked up in shock. Violet wanted to shout to Rory, tell him to stay where he was. To stay as safe as he could. But it would have been no use.

Jumping to his feet, Rory ran for Violet and barreled into her midsection, hugging her as tight as he could. Violet melted. Bending forward, Violet pulled Rory in tighter, and fell to her knees. “Rory…” Their moment was cut short when two rough hands yanked Rory from Violet’s safe arms. Violet jerked in response, but Hearst kept them apart.

“Boy.” The venomous voice of Abernathy sucked the air from the room. “Are my shoes done?”

Tearful, Rory shook his head, and immediately went back to his work. “No, sir. Sorry, sir.”

“Good boy,” Abernathy cooed. “We don’t want the switch again, do we now?” Rory visibly flinched, and Violet boiled.

“Don’t you lay a finger on him, you damned dirty rotten—” Hearst stood between her and Abernathy, his gun the only reason she didn’t climb over his desk and wring his ugly neck.

“Language, Miss Donovan, language.” Leaning back in his cushioned writing chair, Abernathy laced his fingers together. A tense moment followed. “Why don’t you have a seat, my dear?” He gestured to a stool in front of his desk.

“I’d rather die,” Violet seethed.

“And I’d rather you didn’t,” said Abernathy. “At least, not so soon. Please.” Violet stayed still. “I insist.” With a prod of Hearst’s gun, Violet slowly found her way to the stool and sat, her back stiff and her shoulders squared. Abernathy pulled a glass decanter from the shelf behind his desk, and two glasses. “Care for a little brandy, Miss Donovan?” Violet didn’t reply. Staring at the decanter, she was reminded all too well of her night with Munts. The first of so many evil men. At least now she wasn’t quite so easily frightened. Realizing Violet’s refusal, Abernathy instead handed the drink to Hearst, who took it gladly. “Do you know why I’ve let you live, Miss Donovan?” Again, Violet didn’t answer him. “You know things that I, regrettably, do not. For example.” Abernathy took a sip of his brandy. “Where is that little spitfire of a chink? The last time we met, she seemed rather determined to get her hands around my neck.”

“We got that in common,” Violet spat.

“So you do. But why, I wonder?” Abernathy leaned forward at his desk, and Violet took in his features clearer. He was, she might surmise, a handsome man. Handsome, charming, well groomed. His mustache was waxed and trimmed, and his hygiene was better than most. The Violet Donovan from a year ago would have trusted this man in an instant. The thought curdled her stomach.

Abernathy continued. “Sadly I can’t say I recognize your friend, hard as I’ve tried. That being said, I know the type of people who come under my employ. And I’m sure, somewhere along the way, there was a misstep, or perhaps a slight against her or her character. I employ so many people, you see, so it’s difficult to say. And if it’s reparations she wants, I’m certain I could settle this in a lawful manner.” Abernathy pulled out a pocket book and a fountain pen. Licking the tip, he opened up his book and began to jot down notes. “What was it then? Was she harassed? Was her pay redacted? Was she injured on the job?” Pausing, Abernathy looked up from his pen, still calm as ever. “You’ll find that I can be a generous man. If there is any responsibility of your friend’s distress on my behalf, I promise you I can make amends through some means of monetary compensation. It’s more than most men of my position would be willing to do, I can assure you.”

Violet’s face wrinkled in disgust. “We don’t want your goddamned money, you bastard.”

“It’s ‘we,’ now, is it?” Abernathy tapped his pen gently on his desk. “Curious, curious. Mr. Hearst mentioned that you were a proper young lady once. Only unfortunate circumstances led you to who you are today. And even more unfortunate decisions on your part have dug your grave further and further. You might have even been pretty once.” Abernathy finished his brandy. “A true shame.

“But your circumstances don’t interest me, Miss Donovan. I have no quarrel with you, a simple Midwestern girl with a family name worth more than most. Why you chose to follow a woman like that, I will never understand. Nor do I care to. However.” Abernathy’s coy expression dropped, and he settled further in his seat, his hand clutching the arm rest firmly. “If there is a reason a woman wants me dead, I think I have a right to know why.”

A tense moment passed. Violet slowly leaned forward, her words carefully chosen, and deathly serious. “You have a right to nothing,” she said. “Your only right is to sit there…and wonder. And worry. Your right is to get up every morning, watching your back. Looking over your shoulder. Constantly. You think you’re gettin’ out of this alive? No sir. You have a right to stew. Stew slowly as you think through every decision you’ve made in your miserable life that’s led you to here. Every person you’ve hurt, every bond of trust you’ve broken. And know that somewhere, in that web of deceit that you’ve woven, you crossed precisely the wrong people at precisely the wrong time. And Mr. DeWitt…that’s all you got the right to in my book.”

Abernathy’s hand tightened on his pen. His face had dropped its cordial facade, and Violet could feel a change in the air. Slowly, Abernathy stood, and walked around the desk to face Violet fully. No one dared speak a word as Abernathy stared Violet down. Violet dared him to look away.

Slap!

Abernathy’s hand stung, but Violet had had much worse from lesser men. So she sat where she was, and turned her head back in place. Abernathy raised his hand again. Slap! Again, a sting, but hardly. As Violet turned her head back, she could see rage build up in Abernathy’s face. Fist clenched, he finally punched Violet square in the jaw, jerking her body to one side. It was not enough to knock her down, but she faltered, if only a moment.

“Sir!” The next to speak wasn’t Abernathy, but Hearst. Turned to face him, Violet saw that Hearst was visibly upset with the treatment. He hadn’t put down his gun, but the angle lowered. “Sir, please. No need to hit the lady. Not like there’s much she can do.”

Violet stood. Her lip was split, and her jaw ached, but she stood all the taller. She realized, with delight, that she and Abernathy were the same stature. His looming superiority was an illusion. Violet raised her chin, as if giving him a new target. Spitting blood to the side, she spoke to Hearst.

“No need to fret, Mr. Hearst. I won’t hurt your boss none.” Rounding back to Abernathy, she delighted in the frustration swirling in his steely eyes. “I don’t like to fight a man who’s only willing to throw a punch when he’s got a leg up. It’s how I know he’s a coward.”

Face twisting, Abernathy punched Violet in the gut. It knocked the wind out of her, but she stood on her feet. Abernathy threw a few more punches. Some to her face, some to her gut. Still, no matter how much her stance wavered, she stood tall. Her head spun, and she felt the urge to vomit, but she kept it down. All of it down. She refused to show an ounce of weakness to Abernathy at any and all costs. However, it was proving difficult the longer she took the abuse. Finally—

“That’s enough, Mr. DeWitt!” Hearst once again dove between the two of them, this time to protect Violet from Abernathy. “She ain’t gonna tell you what you want to know! This is useless cruelty!”

That seemed to stall Abernathy. Huffing from the exertion, he rubbed his bruised knuckles with a pristine white kerchief from his breast pocket. Hearst breathed a visible sigh of relief, and turned to pull Violet away.

Wham.

With all the strength she could muster, Violet slammed her forehead directly into the hook nose of Jacob Abernathy DeWitt. Down he went like a ton of bricks, crying out in shock and surprise. He crashed into his table, knocking over the fancy decanter and empty brandy glasses. His pocket book went too, and was quickly doused in liquor, ruining it instantly. As Abernathy writhed on the floor, Hearst was quick to turn his gun back to Violet, but she had made no more moves to attack. Instead, she wiped blood from her face with a shrug. “Guess I lied.”

Abernathy struggled to his feet, clutching his broken nose with his kerchief. He was livid, his eyes bulging from his pointed head. No longer was Jacob Abernathy DeWitt the pinnacle of proper sophistication. Now, he was a man. Bleeding, feral, and angry. “Hearst!” he snarled. “Take this woman out back and shoot her in the head.” Both Hearst and Violet snapped to attention.

“No!” Rory, in tears, clutched his scrub brush, pleading on his knees to the devil in tweed. “No, please, sir! Please, sir, don’t hurt Violet no more! Please! She’s real sorry, I promise!”

“Take the boy, too.” Abernathy turned from the three of them and grabbed rubbing alcohol from his cabinet. “I want the little urchin to watch.”

A whole new wave of sickness hit Violet, and she grit her teeth so hard they nearly snapped. “You…you vile…”

“Mr. DeWitt, please,” Hearst argued weakly. “There are laws—there’s procedure to these things!”

“Your procedure be damned,” Abernathy hissed. “The law is a sluggish institution whose only purpose is to keep fat politicians fed.” He wiped the rest of his blood away and held a threatening finger to Hearst. “I am the man who pays your salary. As far as you are concerned, Mr. Hearst, I am the only law you need recognize.” Abernathy glared at Violet, who hadn’t stopped staring daggers into his veiny neck. “I want this woman dead. And I want that boy learned. Do I make myself clear?”

Hearst hesitated. His face twitched as so many words struggled to leave his tongue. Violet turned to him, and quietly asked, “So? What kind of man are you, Mr. Hearst?” Hearst floundered, helplessly looking between his employer and his bounty. There was a chance, however fleeting, that he would defy Abernathy. But instead, his shoulders slumped, and he lifted his gun.

“I’m sorry, Miss Donovan. Please.” Rory, openly sobbing, ran to Violet and held her tightly. Violet squeezed Rory’s shoulder, and with a sick heart, she and Rory were escorted out into the cold night air. They walked far enough away to be out of sight from most of the train yard. Once Hearst was satisfied, Violet was dropped to her knees, with her hands placed behind her head. Rory was stood in front of her, crying massive, ugly tears. Violet’s heart bled for her boy.

“Rory…” Her voice was shaky for the first time that night. “Rory, baby, you listen to me. Look at me. Chin up.” Her lip trembled as she heard Hearst stand squarely behind her. “I love you, baby boy. I love you so, so much. I want you to shut your eyes when he pulls that trigger, okay? I don’t want you seeing this.” Rory trembled and choked on his own tears. Violet felt the cold muzzle of Hearst’s gun against her scalp. Her whole body jumped, and her legs weakened. “The minute you hear that gun go off, I want you to take off running. I want you to hide until this is all over. Can you do that for me, sweet boy?”

“Y-yes.”

“Good. Good. I love you, Rory.”

“I l-love you, V-Violet…”

Cl-lick. As Hearst pulled the hammer back, the whole gun shifted. Violet’s own tears were free now, and she shut her eyes, preparing for the worst. Her breath was choppy, and short. Her muscles were tense. And all the while, the only thing she could think was: I’m so sorry, Mei.

Bang! The shot was deafening. But Violet realized, ever so slowly, that she was still breathing. Still upright. And that the bullet, as she noticed upon opening her eyes, was embedded deep within the dirt just inches away from her knee.

Violet curled forward, falling to her hands, and vomited. Fear and relief and horror hit her all at once as she drank in fresh air. Rory, who had also shut his eyes, now opened them, and to his shock, found that Violet was very much still alive. He ran into Violet’s arms, and she embraced him tightly. When they had steadied each other, Violet looked up. Hearst stood there, his gun still smoking, and his eyes remorseful.

“Run,” he said, quietly. “Run now.”

Violet took a steadying breath. “Thank y—”

“Don’t you thank me, woman. This makes us even. Go.”

Violet didn’t waste another second. She scooped Rory onto her back and ran as fast as her legs could carry her. Behind her, Hearst fired into the air, and the panic began. Workers ran in all different directions. Children started wailing. Foremen hurried out, guns at the ready. Violet was able to slip easily into the chaos, and she gunned it for the closest out towards the cabin. Unfortunately, the foremen had horses at the ready, and at least ten of them were now storming through the hectic campsite, guns flailing and faces red. Violet did her best to weave in and out of the madness, but just as she found a pocket of air, a foreman on a spotted horse blocked her way. No doubt having heard Violet’s description, he recognized her immediately and yanked his gun from its holster.

“I found her! She’s here—hulch!” What followed was a sickening squelch as a bullet pierced the foreman’s belly fat, spraying blood into the night. As he collapsed, Violet spotted Linus, atop his own stolen horse, his Colts at the ready.

Violet hopped into the saddle, Rory safe in front of her, and she pulled out the Springfield rifle from its scabbard and flipped open the trapdoor. One bullet in the chamber. She could hear the rest rattling loose in one of the saddle bags. Grabbing a handful, she stuffed them into her jacket pocket, and sent her horse flying into the night. Linus was quick to join her, and the two zigzagged through the mayhem. Violet tried her best not to fire unless necessary, and desperately avoided any bystanders fleeing the area.

More gunfire sounded off into the night. Violet’s head was on a swivel, marking any men who rode their way. She doubted she landed a hit on anyone, due to the darkness and the jostling. But in return, she was avoiding any and all shots to her person and protecting Rory as well. That, at least, was a win. As she and Linus cleared the train yard, Sitting Bear and Mei joined the posse, also on stolen foremen’s horses. Between the dead ones and the ones without mounts, the odds were good for a weak pursuit.

The Railwalkers thundered into the night, avoiding bullets and returning fire in kind. With Sitting Bear leading the charge, their horses ran like wild stallions, curving into open land, storming over hills, and finally breaking off into a wide spread of riders. As they all turned about face, Violet saw only three foremen chasing them. The Railwalkers circled their enemy riders like sharks, and amid the confusion, their horses swayed and spiraled, knocking together and bucking off their riders. One foreman was so unlucky that a spur caught onto one of his holsters, so that when the horse finally took off, he was dragged behind it by his foot. Foreman number two was shot in the shoulder and knocked clean off his saddle, while the other one’s horse took a bullet and plummeted into the ground, trapping the rider underneath. By the time that last foreman would manage to squirm out from under his dead horse, the Railwalkers would be long gone.

They rode until they could no longer see the lights from Abernathy’s train yard. Slowing down, Mei craned her neck over the horizon. They had lost all of Abernathy’s men, and vanished into the darkness. The same as they’d always had. Finally, the troop could breathe, at least for now. And what luck! In all the chaos, they’d even managed to reach the cabin.

Mei sighed deeply. She turned to the others to say something, when she paused. At first, Violet thought she was going to comment on Rory, and Violet began to smile. But that smile faded when she saw the color drain from Mei’s face.

“Linus?” she said. “Linus, what are you…?”

Linus didn’t answer. Turning, Violet saw Linus slumped on his saddle, sitting at an odd angle. He shifted, as if to say something, when instead, gravity pulled him down and he collapsed into the brush.

“Linus!” Violet screamed. Everyone dismounted and raced to Linus’s side. Sitting Bear flipped him gently to his back. It was with renewed horror that they all saw a pool of blood bursting from a wound in his gut. Violet felt her heart beat a thousand times faster. “Oh God. Oh no. Oh no no no no…Linus. Linus, no.” Violet snapped up to Sitting Bear and Mei, helpless. “What do we do?! He’s been shot. We should—we should take the bullet out. We should—” Linus coughed. Blood splashed from his lips, which were steadily growing ashy. Frantic, Violet yanked off her coat and ripped apart her large shirt. She pressed it to the blood, trying desperately to stop the gushing. It didn’t do much.

“Linus, no. Don’t you do this. Don’t you do this, please.” Violet couldn’t stop pleading. She watched as Linus’ breaths became shallower. His eyes began to flutter. And then, he stopped. He didn’t breathe, he didn’t move. His eyes, half open, stared into the night sky. They were glassy and colorless. Blood in great globs dribbled from his lips.

Surrounded by his family, Linus Cooper lay dead beneath the stars.

It didn’t feel real. Violet touched his face. It was still warm. Still soft. Tears clouded her eyes. Sitting Bear, slowly, laid Linus flat on the earth, letting the grass curl over his body. Rory, paled and sickly, slumped against Violet’s breast and quietly sobbed. Sitting Bear couldn’t seem to emote at all, simply staring, shell-shocked, at his departed friend. And Mei, unable to bear it, stood. Violet watched as Mei shifted on her feet. Violet wished she could say something to ease her pain, make this better. But there was no making this better. Linus was dead. And it was all their faults.

Mei shuffled back, nearly collapsing a few steps away. She fell against the cabin wall. But she didn’t collapse in tears. Instead, her face twisted in fury. Slamming her hands into the side of the cabin, Mei screamed into the night sky. All that answered her back was the hollow whispers of the wind.

Chapter 19

For hours, the only sound was the rhythmic shifting of the hard dirt. The rusty metal shovels and pickaxes, found within the old miner’s cabin, clanked hallow and dull. Violet dug until her hands were callused, and her fingers were numb from cold. When they were satisfied with the hole, Violet took stock of the sky. The moon was nearly gone. It was just a few hours until daybreak now. Perhaps she should have been tired. But her body carried the brunt of her fatigue. Her mind was still very much awake and playing loops of the same horrid scene over and over again.

Linus. On the ground. In their arms. Linus bleeding. The color fading from his eyes. She turned to where he lay, still as the grave. Sitting Bear had taken it upon himself to clean Linus as best he could. The blood was wiped from his face, and his eyes were closed. Dignified. Violet heard once that dead bodies sometimes looked like they were sleeping. There was no such illusion here.

A clatter garnered Violet’s attention, and she turned, leaning against the rusty shovel. Rory had gathered stones from a nearby stream. Sitting at the head of Linus’ grave, he began to assemble the smooth river rocks in a stack. Each one was carefully placed, until a serene pyramid remained. Violet set the shovel aside and crawled from the hole. It wasn’t six feet, but it was enough. Rubbing her sore hands, she sat by Rory and pulled him in. They shared a moment, staring at Linus’ marker.

“He’d love it,” she said. “Thank you, Rory.” Rory said nothing and rubbed his tired eyes. But he, like the others, did not want to sleep. And no one bothered forcing him.

Sitting Bear, finished up with Linus’ body, approached them. He had with him a small bundle of Linus’ belongings. “These are all he had of value.” Sitting Bear rolled out the swath of leather to reveal Linus Cooper’s personal effects. His harmonica. A roll of money and a few loose coins. His journal and pen. His glasses, now broken and dented. His well-worn derby. An old set of playing cards. A case of ammunition. Two boxes of match sticks, both nearly empty. A bag of tobacco. A small canteen. And finally, laying at the center of all these pieces, were Linus’ guns. Two beautiful, intricately engraved Colt.45’s. With pearl handles and smooth finger grips.

“Linus’ Peacemakers,” said Violet. She held one in her hand. It was a little shorter than her old Smith. But it was light. And her fingers fit around the gun butt easily. Gently, she set it back down and tilted her head.

Mei hadn’t done much. She helped break ground for Linus’ grave, but once Violet assured her she could handle it, Mei stepped aside. She’d found a tree stump and made herself comfortable. At her feet were the ends of rolled cigarettes, and in her hand, twinkling, was her lion’s head lighter. She mindlessly opened and closed its top, flicking the trigger and putting out the flame again. With her back to the rest, it was difficult to know what Mei was thinking. Difficult, and yet, perhaps easy to guess. Violet tried to give Mei her space. Linus was Mei’s best friend. Her right hand. They were the original Railwalkers, together since they were fourteen years old. Never apart for long. Never one without the other. Violet could only imagine what losing someone like that could feel like. Perhaps like losing part of yourself. Standing, she walked to Mei’s side. Mei’s hands stopped fiddling with her lighter, but she didn’t turn to address Violet. Violet sat in the dirt beside Mei, and watched the sky lighten gradually.

“You shouldn’t blame yourself.” Violet’s words came with no rebuttal from Mei, and so she continued. “He knew the risks. We all do. One of us was bound to draw the short straw eventually.”

“This supposed to make me feel better?” Mei muttered.

Down the hill from where they sat, a young buck tiptoed its way to the stream. It drank peacefully. Violet stared at it before answering, “Probably not.”

Mei took out a paper and dumped the last of her tobacco into the sheet. “Abernathy is bound to be gone by this time tomorrow,” she said, wrapping the smoke tight. With a lick to the paper, she finished it off and lit it. “Saw them bringing a test engine train the other day for one of the more completed tracks. He’ll probably be on it first thing.” She took a long drag and blew out a steady stream of smoke. “And then he’ll be gone. Again.”

Violet hesitated on her next words. “Maybe…that ain’t so bad?” Mei turned to her, taken aback. “Mei…we barely escaped in one piece. And we just lost—” Her throat clenched. Violet sat on her knees and took Mei’s wrist. Pleading. “We just got Rory back. Hell, we just got a chance to escape. The universe ain’t usually so kind.”

“So that’s it?” Mei growled. “We just let him go? An evil sombitch like that, we just let him walk?”

“Yes, Mei. We just let him walk.”

Mei scoffed loudly and stood from her stump. She paced, and Violet stood straight, ready to deal with the brunt of Mei’s anger. “Twelve years. Twelve goddamn years I have hunted this pig fucker, and you say to me we let him walk? So what, did Linus’ life mean nothing, is he just going to die for nothing?”

“If we keep down this road, he might as well have.” The words felt like poison, but Mei needed to hear them. “We have a chance to live that new life we’re dreamin’ about, but it won’t happen if we’re all dead by the end of it. Linus took a bullet. He’s gone.” Mei visibly twitched and sucked on her smoke. “What good is it if we go back there, and then it’s Sitting Bear next? Or you? Or Rory, or me?” Heart pained, Violet stepped forward and took Mei’s arm. “Is that what Linus would want? For us to keep shooting till we’re all in the ground like him—?”

Mei whipped her arm away and raised her fist. For a moment, Violet expected that punch to throw, and she’d accept it. If that’s what it took for Mei to see reason, she’d take it. But the hit never came. Instead, Mei struggled with herself, and very slowly let that hand drop. The muscles in her face were twitching, and her eyes were overrun with tears. Cheeks red, Mei took a few moments to steady her breath.

“Don’t you try and tell me what he wanted,” she finally said. “Don’t you dare. You didn’t know him. Not like me. Y’all weren’t family to him like me. None of you.”

Rather than taking the bait for a fight, Violet reached up and took a gentle hold of Mei’s fist. Her muscles didn’t relax, but she didn’t pull away, either. “No. We weren’t. He was your brother, Mei. None of us are taking that away from you.” Unable to keep it down much longer, Mei finally let her tears spill over. She trembled, and squeezed her eyes with her forefinger and thumb, cigarette smoldering between her knuckles. Violet inched forward and laid a hand on Mei’s hot neck. “But think…Think, Mei. Would he want us to die like him when we have a chance to get out?” Mei shivered, her teeth bared and gnashed beneath her hand. “Listen to me. You got every right to be angry. Every right in the world. I wish I could tell you that that bastard is gonna get what’s coming to him. But we keep at this? Linus really will have died for nothing.”

Mei turned from Violet. But she didn’t argue and didn’t pull out of Violet’s hold. Her shoulders shuddered, and she sniffed harshly to try and keep her tears under control. After a moment, she cleared her throat and took a drag of her cigarette. “When’d you get to be the sensible one, Vi?” Violet smiled meekly. Reaching out, she wrapped her arms around Mei’s midsection, holding her close. After she’d had her fill of silence, Mei snubbed out her smoke and turned towards the grave.

Currently, Sitting Bear had taken off Ginger’s saddle blanket and began to wrap Linus’ body within. Before he got to the head, Mei knelt down beside her fallen brother. Sitting Bear dropped his hands, letting her take the time she needed. Mei’s eyes said what her lips could not. After a moment of silence, Mei leaned forward and laid a kiss on Linus’ cold forehead. It lingered for a moment, and she pulled back. She nodded, and Sitting Bear folded the last piece of cloth over Linus’ face. Together, the three of them gently lowered Linus’ body down into his grave. Violet took her shovel from the ground and began to shovel in the loose dirt. It was a slow process. No one stirred from where they stood. Only when the hole was halfway done did Rory take a clump of dirt in his hands and toss it in himself. Sitting Bear did the same. As did Mei. Finally, Violet set her spade aside and gently pushed the rest of the mound inside.

It was a quiet funeral. No one said any parting words. Because no one, not Mei, or Sitting Bear, or Violet, could say now what they hadn’t already told Linus in life. That he was loved, that he was valued. And that he would be so terribly missed. By the time they were satisfied, the sun was just beginning to peek over the horizon, and the tired outlaws made their way into cabin, fatigue finally winning over. Sitting Bear had taken the spread of Linus’ possessions in with them, leaving only his harmonica, hat, and glasses on top of his freshly dug grave.

“We should send the rest of his money to his family,” Mei said, the four of them settling in. “He’s got his home address written on the inside of his book. I’ll write to his mama. I’d know what to say.”

Sitting Bear nodded and handed Linus’ savings and his notebook over to Mei. The playing cards were given to Rory, who held them to his heart desperately. The match boxes were set aside, to use for their fires. And all that was left, were his pistols. The Peacemakers looked so tiny in Sitting Bear’s massive hands. Like toy guns hammered out of tin.

“Violet should have these.” Sitting Bear’s voice broke the silence quite unexpectedly. Mei and Violet looked up, and then at each other. “He taught Violet to shoot. I remember the day. He gifted Violet her first real gun.”

“Oh, no…” Violet shook her head and leaned back in her seat. “No, I couldn’t…Mei, you should take them.”

Mei folded her arms. “I’m no good with small guns,” she said. “They don’t got the grip I like.” Mei and Violet caught eyes, and Mei gave her a solemn nod. “They’re yours.”

“But Mei…”

“Trust me,” she said. “He would have wanted it.”

The gravity of those words rested heavy on Violet’s heart, as she was compelled to believe them. Sitting Bear turned the guns around, hand them to Violet, butt end first. Violet took them in each hand, admiring their finish. Sitting Bear handed Violet the box of ammo, and she holstered each one in her belt. “I’ll do him proud,” she said. “I promise.”

A glimmer of a smile came to Mei’s lips. “I know you will.” Wiping her face one last time, Mei stood, and their redistribution of Linus’s effects was called to an end. “We should sleep,” she said. “We head south at daybreak.”

“South?” said Violet.

“Someone’s gotta deliver the news to Madam Hen,” she said. “I’d rather it be us.” With a squeeze to Violet’s shoulder, Mei stepped outside to settle the horses. Violet sighed deeply and cleared enough space for Rory to curl up beside her. The poor boy hadn’t said a word all night. Gently, Violet stroked his hair.

“Are you feelin’ okay, Rory?” she asked. Rory nodded yes. Violet tilted her face a little. “It’s all right if you’re not. You can be honest.” After a moment, Rory shook his head no. Violet kissed his crown, her arms secure around him. “I’m so glad you’re not hurt…But why are you here? All the way out in San Francisco? To find us?”

Rory fidgeted. “You won’t be mad?”

A smile tickled Violet’s lips. “No,” said Violet. “I won’t be mad.” She watched as Sitting Bear fell asleep easily, Linus’ jacket balled up in his arms. “How did you find Abernathy? What happened?”

“Well…” Rory began. “I knew where y’all were going ever since you gave Mei that story from the paper. Dr. Victor wouldn’t take me, no matter how hard I begged. I hope you won’t get mad at him none, neither, he did his best to keep an eye on me. So, one night, after it got warmer, I decided to go myself. I sold Sweetpea to the rancher in town and snuck into a stagecoach on its way to the closest train station. I bought a ticket for the next train west. But while I was riding, that mean ol’ Marshal Hearst recognized me, and I got snatched up. He and Mr. Abernathy were on the same train I was, headed to the same place. That’s when Mr. Abernathy decided he’d keep me around as a…as a…” Rory’s face screwed up at the word. “In…dent hair’d…servant. Dunno what that means, Violet, but it weren’t nice at all. He had me shine his shoes and fold his clothes and get him drinks whenever he liked. And when I took too long, or bothered him at all, he’d rough me up somethin’ awful.” Rory buried his face into Violet’s neck. “I don’t like rememberin’ it.”

“Then don’t,” said Violet, hugging him tighter. “You’re safe again, Rory. And I won’t never let no one hurt you like that Mr. Abernathy did. Not ever again. You hear me?” Rory nodded. “Good.” She laid there, her body drained, but her mind still wide awake. With a sigh, she gave Rory’s hair one last kiss before sitting up. “Get some sleep, sweet boy. I’ll go see what’s holding up Mei.” She slunk out of bed, careful not to wake up Sitting Bear, and stepped outside.

“Mei?” she called quietly. “What’s the hitch…?” She spotted the horses, both theirs and their stolen steeds, lined up and tucked away. Except one of them, Huī, was notably missing from the bunch. Violet turned, expecting to see Mei leading him to water, but there was no sign of the massive black stallion anywhere. And in fact, no sign that Mei was anywhere close at all. What spotted next only confirmed her fears. On the tree stump where Mei had sat only hours before, were two things. Linus’ journal, and his money clip, totally untouched.

Mei was gone.

* * * *

The train was a small one. A modest, old-model steamer engine with only a few cars attached to it. A perfect candidate for testing the new track laid from the DeWitt train yard. As the sun rose into mid-morning, the locomotive rolled out onto the track, a few workers cheering as it ascended. Its whistle blew, its wheels turned, and ever so gradually, it began to glide onto the tracks. And Violet was all but certain that in its cars held one Jacob Abernathy DeWitt.

Violet sat on Maple on top of a far hill, watching the train leave from a few miles off. But she was less interested in the train itself and more on the setting around it. So far, there was no sign of Mei and big black Huī. As she traced the train with her eyes, she spotted, far down the hill from her, the sigh of one of the foremen walking the perimeter, armed with a Springfield. He fortunately hadn’t seen Violet, and she took the chance to make her move. With Maple at a trot, she ran parallel to the train, trying to find any sign of Mei she could.

As it stood, there didn’t seem to be a huge convoy surrounding the train itself. Violet wondered if she was even right about Abernathy being its most valuable passenger. Surely after last night, he would have hired a slew of mercenaries to guard him as he traveled. Unless, of course, the man was laying low in attempts to avoid any unwanted attention.

The train picked up speed, and Violet sent Maple into a gallop. Her hat stayed square on her head, helping the sun glare stay out of her eyes. They never left the train, or the fields that surrounded it. The farther the train went, the more Violet wondered if Mei would even show.

And then, she saw her. A small dot of black and brown, soaring towards the train’s back end at full speed. Her Winchester was loaded, and her posture leaned into Huī’s run as though she herself was lending her strength to his gait. Violet knew she had to act quickly. As Mei reached within a foot of the caboose, Violet pulled up a bandanna over her face and turned Maple sharply. With a bit of a lead on the train, the now perpendicular angle towards the track would land her perfectly right behind Mei’s trail. She watched as Mei managed to hop over the railing, letting Huī peel off and out of danger. So far, Mei hadn’t seen Violet, and she stepped in through the back door and out of sight. As Violet got closer, she heard the tell-tale sounds of gunfire within the train car.

Violet pulled Maple up to the edge of the caboose, keeping her body below the windows at all times. A particularly loud gunshot blew out the glass above her, and she shielded her face as the shards showered over her head. With a hoist onto the saddle, Violet grabbed onto the now-empty window ledge and leapt up and over, rolling into the train car in one fell swoop.

The first thing that greeted her was the sight of a man, a wound the size of a nickel in the center of his forehead. Violet looked up and saw another man raise his gun at a target out of Violet’s sight. Acting quickly, Violet whipped the Peacemakers from their holsters and fired. Two shots in the chest sent the man tumbling into the opposite window, and he collapsed in a heaping pile.

Violet stood, guns at the ready. She turned, and there was Mei, right where Violet knew she would be. Her Winchester half-cocked, with vengeance in her eyes. The surprise faded immediately, as the two women shared a moment of solidarity. After all, how could this have gone any other way?

The door from the head of the car burst open, and out poured three gun toting mercenaries. Violet dove behind a bench, with Mei doing the same, and the firing began anew. Mei and Violet took turns firing while the other reloaded. The men took cover themselves, and the bullets were wild. Windows shattered, and lamps did the same, spilling kerosene onto the thick carpet below. Loading her Colts in record time, Violet let the bullets fly, hitting her mark more often than not. The men cried out in pain, or not at all, as the force of the shots sent them careening to the floor. When the last man standing was sent to Hell, Mei and Violet stood, discarded the used cartridges, and reloaded. Violet was down to her last round of bullets. Mei still had plenty to spare.

Mei gestured above them, and Violet saw an open hatch. It was a quicker way around any possible gunmen waiting for them in the next car, and Violet nodded. Giving Mei a lift up, she was the first through the roof. Reaching down, Mei pulled Violet up with her, and the two made their way to the next car.

Just as they made the leap between the gaps, new guns fired in their direction. Mei and Violet laid flat, and Violet squinted, protecting her eyes from the wind. The armed gunmen, it seemed, had had the same idea. Two of them were now poking out of a trap door, elbows squarely on the roof of the train car, firing. Mei loaded her Winchester with a flick of her wrist, and stationing the gun against her breast, began to fire. She kept it sideways for easier reloads, and the men’s hands were bloodied and useless by the end of it. Violet, deciding to spare her bullets for now, holstered her guns, and spotted an open window to her left.

With a quick prayer, Violet slid down the side, just catching the open window with her foot and her hand before plummeting onto the moving ground below. When she slipped inside, she saw two men standing on a table in order to reach the top hatch. One of them was already making his way down to try and cut Violet off. But Violet was quicker on the draw. Grabbing a loose lamp from the wall, she smashed it into his knees, sending him barreling down off the table. As he struggled to stand, Violet grabbed onto his shirt collar, and with a mighty hurl, sent him flying into the back of the second man’s legs. Down the pair of them went like timber. Mei was swiftly through the hatch herself, and while she gunned down the two shooters, Violet did a quick survey of their car in case any others were hiding among the seats.

That’s when a sucker punch landed against her ear, and she spun out. Violet managed to catch herself against a wall, and when her sight came to, she saw the visage of Marshal Hearst, hurling a second fist straight for her face. Violet ducked, and Hearst’s knuckles took out a chunk of wood and paint chips. Violet elbowed Hearst’s gut, and moved her gun towards him. There, they struggled, Hearst desperately keeping Violet’s pistols away from him. As they fought, Hearst managed to yank one of the guns out of Violet’s hand and turn it to her. Violet dipped her head just as Hearst fired, and with a thrust of her palm, his jaw cracked from below, dizzying him and sending him flailing. He fell, trying desperately to pull his own gun from its hold, when he was met with the long barrel of Mei’s Winchester. As the air settled, and the rest of Hearst’s men were down—either dead or out—it was clear who had won this fight. Hearst, slowly, held up his hands, letting his gun go limp on his trigger finger. The three of them stayed where they were, panting for breath. Hearst stared up at the pair of them, with Violet’s gun joining Mei’s own.

“Where is he?” Mei demanded.

“Not here,” said Hearst.

Mei shoved the barrel against Hearst’s head. “Where then?”

Hearst spat out a bit of blood, and Violet realized that he was missing a tooth. “Waiting for you. With my officers in Butte. You ladies can shoot me if you must, but the minute this train pulls in, it’ll be you and fifty men of the law, guns at the ready. Or you could jump off now, and take your chances in the wilderness. Heard there are bears in every corner of the woods up here.”

“Shut it,” Violet snapped, cocking her left revolver.

Mei turned to Violet. “We get off now, we can make it to Butte our own way. Trap him.”

Violet sneered. “Mei, it could just be another trap. We take that chance and we walk right into a rattler’s nest.”

“I’m not letting him get away again!” Mei hollered. “He’s crawled into his last damn hole! And I’m gonna flush the sucker out or die trying, my lips to God’s ears!”

Violet had rounded to Mei, ready to demand her to be sensible, when Hearst took them both by surprise. Ducking out of the way of Mei’s gun, Hearst slammed her rifle butt into Mei’s stomach, sending her reeling. Violet fired, but her aim was off, and Hearst managed to tackle Violet into a table, which cut into her side like a blunt ax. Hearst managed to knock Violet’s last pistol away, and pulling out his own, pointed it directly between Violet’s eyes.

“I let you run once,” he seethed. “Because I ain’t no butcher. If I was gonna shootchya, it was gonna be a fair fight!” His finger rested on the trigger, but just when Violet thought she was finally destined to meet her bullet, Hearst’s gaze jumped past her, and out the window. Confusion hit his face. “What…?” A bullet hit his shoulder. With a shout of pain, Hearst flung from Violet, and slammed against the door to the engine room.

Mei stood, her bandanna knocked off her face, and her eyes wide with rage. She slammed two fresh slugs into her Winchester and cocked it. “You get your hands off of my wife.” She held up her gun, ready to end Hearst for good, when Hearst did something completely out of the blue. He held out his hand, begging for Mei to halt.

“Stop!” he pleaded. “Stop, wait!” Something about his tone stalled the pair of them, and Mei narrowed her eyes. Nursing his injured shoulder, Hearst propped his sweaty body up against the door frame. “We…we shoulda…why didn’t we?”

“Spit it out!” Mei demanded.

“The bend…” Fumbling to his feet, Hearst headed to the window and pointed. Mei and Violet looked, and saw them leave behind a track lever, and a separate track splitting off in a different direction. “We shoulda went left. Why didn’t we go left?”

“Why does it matter?” said Violet.

Hearst, far less worried about the two armed women behind him, threw open the door to the engine. Sweaty and frantic, he began to pull on the train’s levers. They wouldn’t budge. Not a single one. “God-Goddamn—! Why?!”

“What are you saying, Hearst?” Mei spat. Hearst rounded to them with true fear in his eyes.

“The train…We were supposed to turn left. Left goes to Butte.”

“And the right?” Violet asked.

Hearst shook his head, face pale. “The right…the right heads straight into a goddamned mountain.”

A new panic swept Mei and Violet, and they lowered their weapons. Hearst began desperately yanking on the emergency pull chord, but it did little to stop the locomotive. “Dammit!” He rounded to the women. “Pull on the chords! Pull on all of ‘em! Now!”

Violet and Mei rushed back into the second train car. They found every break chord they could get their hands on and pulled. Not a single one managed to slow it down. Mei slammed her hand against the wall of the car. “They’ve all been cut!” she cried.

Adrenaline rushing, Violet looked into the engine room. The speed needle was racing higher and higher. “It’s picking up!” She tried herself to yank on the brakes of the train, but Hearst wasn’t lying. Somehow, every single break was jimmied shut. Hurrying to one side, Violet looked out the window. She followed the track with her eyes, and quickly found her end. Within two miles, the track came to an abrupt stop right in front of a mountain side. Even from that far away, Violet could see crates of dynamite waiting for them. Their train was on a one-way ticket to meet a demolition site, head on.

Violet went back to the other two, holstering her guns. “We gotta make a jump for it!” she shouted. “They got that mountain rigged to blow!” Mei swore violently, throwing her Winchester into its scabbard on her back.

Hearst looked between the window, with the mountain rapidly approaching, and the engine room, with all its sabotaged levers and pulleys. One way or another, this train was meeting a quick and sudden end. They had no choice. Hearst turned to the women and gestured to the back. “We’ll be safer if we jump from lower ground!”

Quickly, the three filed to the back of the car, with Violet leading the charge. She burst open the door, getting ready to leap, when something hot and sharp tore through her arm. She cried out in pain, and fell into Mei’s grasp. One of the mercenaries, not quite dead, was limping from the doorway of the opposite car. His eye was blinded by blood, and in his shaking hand he held a smoking gun. He yelled loud, firing wildly onto the three.

“Dammit man! Stop! You don’t understand!” Hearst tried shout sense to the man, but all that mattered to him was the bullets in his chamber, and a yell of righteousness that accompanied them. Mei, cradling Violet in her arms, dragged her out of the line of fire, while Hearst took cover opposite them. They waited until the firing stopped, and all the bloodied man could do was click his empty gun, panting and sputtering.

In a swift move, Mei stood straight, and fired a single shot straight between his eyes. The mercenary was dead before he hit the ground. Violet, ignoring her pain, chanced a look up. They were within twenty yards of the mountain. One second wasted, and they’d all be dead.

“We need to go, now!” Taking Mei’s hand with her good grip, she, Mei, and Hearst all flew out of the train car and into the hot air. As they collapsed into heaps on the hard dirt, Violet caught one last glimpse of the train. One second, it was utterly untouched, and the next, it was crammed up against the side of the mountain, and suddenly, engulfed in fire.

KA-BOOM!

A wave of heat to rival the sands of the Sahara spread over Violet, and she was forced back. Her body tumbled like a hot corn kernel, battering her bones until every inch of her was sore and beaten. Finally, she was still, and the world, after moving so fast, slowed to a much deserved halt.

The air was ringing. Her head was spinning. The sky, once so blue and clear, was now poisoned with plumes of orange, ashy smoke. Sulfur and gunpowder hung in the air. Her body was numb, with the pain only slowly setting in in increments. A breeze kissed her face, and the horrific sound of metal screeching on metal pierced her ears. She wilted, her breath stabbing the inside of her lungs with every inhale. Her vision, blurry and faded, began to clear. Violet could only take in small details at a time.

First, the train. Or what was left of it. What was a small steam locomotive was now nothing more than a pile of metal and ash. Much of the wooden cars behind it were reduced to kindling. Second, the two souls around her. Hearst was motionless, laying flat on his back to her left. And to her right, Mei had landed on her side. Her body was curled in pain. Her rifle had fallen out of its scabbard, and now lay a foot from where she’d landed. Violet tried to call to her. Tried to move. There was no doing either. Even shifting her head took an enormous amount of energy that she simply did not possess. Slowly, the ringing in her ears began to fade, as did her numbness. Violet’s entire body was battered, broken, and bruised. Warm blood dripped from every conceivable wound. She was dizzy, lightheaded and barely awake. But slowly, ever so slowly, some of her facilities began to return to her.

With weak arms, Violet managed to get herself onto her elbows. With every new movement, the world teetered, as if threatening to tilt completely sideways. “M…Mei…” Her voice was hoarse and scratched like hell. Violet’s legs were limp as logs, and so she dragged herself forward an inch. Two inches. Fear began to take hold of her as she grew closer, but saw no evidence of movement. “Mei…Mei please…”

And then, something else. Footsteps. Slow, leisurely. Taking their time. Violet craned her heavy head in a way that strained her neck badly. But she had to see. There, in his pristine white suit, and his freshly shined shoes, was Jacob Abernathy DeWitt.

“I can’t say this was an easy expenditure to swallow, Miss Donovan,” he said smoothly. “But I fear it was necessary. With how stubborn your companion seems to be about me dying.” He turned, observing the damage thoughtfully. “At least we’ve started early on the demolition, I suppose.”

“Y…you…you fu…” Violet could barely string a sentence together, and as she hoisted herself further, her muscles grew weaker, and she fell back down into the dirt. Abernathy turned to her, an eyebrow cocked.

“What? No surprise attack this time, Miss Donovan?” He had opened his mouth to say something else, no doubt as equally nauseating, when he stopped. Mei, very slowly, had begun to move. She struggled, helplessly pushing up on her scabbed arms and torn up skin. But she, like Violet, could only withstand the pressure for a few moments, before she too collapsed into the dust.

Abernathy sneered at Mei’s attempt. “Sweet Jesus…I swear in all my years I have never seen a woman quite as stubborn as you.” He watched as Mei again attempted to rise. Rather than letting her fall on her own, Abernathy sent his foot flying, and kicked Mei square in the ribs, sending her back down.

“Mei!” Violet’s voice was back, though barely. She dragged herself further, desperately trying to reach Mei’s side. Mei, groaning with pain, tried for a third time to push herself up.

“You know, I once had an ass like you, Miss Wong,” Abernathy mused. “Not the brightest animal, but a hard worker none the less. I had him as a child. He was one of my father’s beasts of burden. I remember one spring, when the soil was so hard, the ass could barely move the plow. Normally we have horses for such a venture, but they were unavailable for this particular plot. Of course, my father had some of his field hands try to help it, but the damned thing was determined. It pulled and pulled, until it could pull no more. It broke a leg trying to pull. So my father shot it.”

Mei pushed herself onto her arms a fourth time, muscles quivering. Abernathy stomped onto her back, and she screamed in pain, flattening on the ground. “As I said. Not the brightest animal.” Violet saw Abernathy reach into his coat pocket and pull out a large revolver pistol. It was expertly made, with beautiful engravings and gold inlay on the handle. And, obvious from first glance, it had never been fired.

Abernathy checked the chamber. When he was satisfied, he snapped it shut and pulled back the hammer. Violet, in a panic, felt for her guns. One of the Peacemakers had fallen just out of arm’s reach. She lunged for it, her fingers barely touching the butt. She cursed her legs for not working, her sweat for making her too slick. Her pain for getting in the way of protecting Mei’s life.

Just as Violet began fingering the pistol, she watched in horror as Abernathy lowered the barrel, aiming it directly at the back of Mei’s head. “Goodbye, Miss Wong.”

“No!”

Bang. Bang. Bang.

Three shots. That’s all it took. Three shots and the world had come to a full stop. Like budding roses, three bloodstains bubbled up from Abernathy’s white suit. The look on his face was more of shock than pain. His gun, still cocked and ready to fire, went limp in his hand, as he calmly felt the blood on his torso. And then, without a word, he collapsed.

Violet turned. Sitting upright, gun in hand, was US Marshal Hearst. He leaned on one arm, nursing a wound in his side, with only one eye open. He was gasping for breath, positively drenched in sweat. And as the life left Jacob Abernathy DeWitt’s body, so did the gun from Marshal Hearst’s hand. He and Violet shared a glance, and Hearst nodded. Violet returned the gesture.

“No…no…” Like the violent ocean beginning to turn, Mei pulled in the last of her strength and scrambled to Abernathy. She loomed over him, her black hair wild and splattered with blood and dust. She looked over Abernathy’s body. His eyes were wide, and his mouth was agog. He was utterly and unquestionably dead. Slowly, Mei looked up. She spotted Marshal Hearst, and her face twisted with agony. “No…why did you…no…”

“Mei…” Sitting herself up, Violet managed to drag her body to Mei’s side. She caught her just as Mei collapsed into angry sobbing.

“No…No! You…no! What did you do…? What did you do!?”

“He saved you,” Violet said, her heart clenched. “Abernathy. He was gonna…”

“You stole him. You stole him from me!” Mei let out an angry wail, and scratched her nails into the dirt. She began throwing rocks and sand anywhere she could, screaming at the top of her voice. “You motherfucker! You stole him! That was supposed to be mine! He was mine! My kill, my mark!”

“He’s dead,” Hearst gruffed. “I thought that’s what you wanted.”

“He needed to know!” Mei howled. With a horrible screech, she collapsed further, clinging to Violet for dear life. “He needed to know what he did to me! He killed my parents! He killed them! He stole my life! And now he’ll rot in Hell AND HE’LL NEVER KNOW!”

“Mei…Mei…” Violet cradled her body as Mei broke down into incoherent sobs and screams. As she battled for breath, Violet waited, patiently, until her voice died ever so slightly. With a gentle tone, Violet wiped the hot tears from Mei’s face. “Would it have mattered?” she asked. Mei’s broken eyes were all that answered her. “Abernathy is dead. He’s dead, and what happened to you will never happen to anyone else by his hand. Ever again. That’s all that matters…”

Mei went limp. Completely powerless, she folded into Violet’s breast, and wept. Unable to do anything else, Violet held her. As they waited for Hearst’s men to arrive, Violet watched the flames devour what was left of that little steamer locomotive.

* * * *

“How’s the arm?”

Violet looked at her wounded limb, which was bandaged from shoulder to wrist, and hung in a sling. She shrugged. “I’ve been worse.”

“Can you move your fingers?”

“Some.”

Hearst nodded. He himself didn’t exactly look at his best, either, to be honest. He had quite a few bandages to go around, including one around his forehead and neck, two on his wrists, not to mention the cane he now had to use to walk. But considering what they’d all gone through, the three of them were lucky to be breathing.

It was about five o’clock in the afternoon, and Violet was seated calmly at a table inside the local sheriff’s office. Hearst’s men had taken at least two hours before they were found at the wreckage. When they arrived, Mei and Violet were arrested, and carted away to the closest town over. It was a slow trip, the world feeling as though in a fog for the most part. No one made small talk, for which Violet was grateful. She wasn’t interested in chatting up lawmen on the best of days, let alone after what had transpired. Pulling into the little mining town, the local surgeon took care of their wounds, and Mei and Violet were promptly separated. Mei was kept in a lone jail cell at the back of the old building, while Violet was cuffed to the desk in the front room.

Hearst questioned Mei first, and for some time. He would emerge to grab a few things—a sheet of paper, a pen, a bottle of liquor—and then vanish again. Violet wondered why things were taking so very long. Fortunately, her worry was minimal. If anything, Hearst had proven himself an honorable man. At least Violet could be sure that Mei wouldn’t be executed behind closed doors.

When Hearst finally did sit with Violet, he first poured them each a drink. Violet took it thankfully. It was much needed. Hearst then rolled them a cigarette to share, letting Violet take the first drag.

“So…” Hearst laced his fingers together, hands on the table. “I guess it’s over.”

“I guess it is.” Violet passed him the cigarette.

A smile tickled Hearst’s lips and he took it from her, taking a smoke himself. “Is this how you pictured it?”

Violet thought the question through. “To be honest?” she said. “It’s not how I would have liked things to end up. But we rarely get a say in such things, don’t we?”

“That we do not.” Hearst leaned back in his chair, his face painfully wincing as he readjusted his shoulder. “My boys went back and combed the area outside the train yard. You’ll be pleased to know your accomplices were nowhere to be found.”

Violet smiled. “Good.”

Hearst hesitated. He passed her the cigarette again, and she partook. “Well, in any case, Miss Donovan—”

“‘Mrs.’”

Hearst paused. “Beg pardon?”

“I’m a ‘Mrs. Violet Donovan’ these days, Mr. Hearst.”

“Oh. Congratulations.” He took the cigarette back from her and cocked his head. “Who’s the lucky fella?”

Violet’s smile widened. “You got her locked up behind me.”

Hearst’s eyebrows rose high on his forehead. And then, with an amused chuckle, he shook his head. “Violet Donovan, of all the criminals I’ve chased, you are by far the most interesting.”

“Thank you, Marshal.”

“Well then, Mrs. Donovan. All I need is your signature, and you’ll be on your way.” Hearst removed a pen from his breast pocket and held it up for Violet to take. Violet did not, however, and stared at Hearst, dumbfounded.

“Excuse me?” she said.

“Miss Wong…Or, Mrs. Wong, I should say now…told me everything. The murder of Mr. Munts. The blackmail into joining her posse. The coercion, the threats to your life…All reasonable justification for this past year of your misfortune. In light of this evidence, you are hereby an exonerated woman, and once you sign this affidavit, you are free to go.”

Violet sat there, stunned. She stared at the page in Hearst’s hand, and down at the bottom, was the signature of one Mei Wong. Her jaw slowly dropped, and she took the page to read herself. Her heart, as though it had not dealt with enough tragedy, ached at the sight of it. Violet began shaking her head.

“No…you can’t possibly believe this, Mr. Hearst.”

But Hearst’s eyes were kind. “Not in the slightest.”

“Then why? Rip this up! I’m no more innocent than she is! And I’ll be damned if I let her suffer alone!”

“Mrs. Donovan.” Hearst folded his hands on the table. The forgotten cigarette was now resting on an ashtray beside them. “That woman is your…?”

“My wife.”

“Your wife. And you would do anything for her, yes?” Violet nodded. “Well then, it seems that she would do the same. If you ask me, Violet, you married well.”

“No, this is ridiculous. Mei!” She stood promptly, and her arm jerked. She was, after all, still attached via handcuff to the table. Wincing, she sat back down.

“Mei told me about your life back in Redrock,” said Hearst. “She told me how much you scarified to keep your loved ones safe. She’s given you a gift to go back to your family.”

“Let me see her. Please.”

Hearst sighed. “I’m sorry. I can’t.”

“Why not? There can’t possibly be a law against—!”

“There isn’t,” said Hearst. “Mrs. Wong has requested not to see you.”

“Well, I won’t sign it,” said Violet. “I won’t sign it and you can’t make me, Mr. Hearst! I ain’t gonna go off scot free while she rots away behind bars! I-I won’t let her swing alone, and you can tell her that personally—!”

“Violet.” Hearst’s tone calmed her down. He shook his head. “I will do what I can in Mei Wong’s case. But you have to understand, she is a wanted for murder in over half the country. However, if you sign this affidavit…you’re more likely to be called in as a character witness in Mei’s trial. You could help be soften her sentence. She might even get life, rather than death. It’s the best we can do for her. You understand.”

Violet’s whole body deflated, and her eyes lingered again on that affidavit. Her stomach churned at the thought of signing something so false, and dooming her lover to the arms of the law. Violet shook her head and held her arms. Hearst gently pushed the paper and pen towards her.

“She said you’d be stubborn,” he remarked. “But she asked me…to say please.”

A moment passed. Two moments. Violet’s mouth felt like she was sucking poison. But finally, realizing that there were no other real options, Violet’s left hand took the pen, and in a shaky scrawl, she signed her own name.

Hearst exhaled in relief. “Good. She’ll be happy to hear this.” Hearst stood, leaning on his cane. “Would you care for an escort?”

Violet stood and shook her head. “My horse…?”

“Outside. As well as Mrs. Wong’s. She…told me that you let her borrow the black one.” Violet’s smile was watery, and she nodded. Limping from the sheriff’s office and into the blaring sunlight, she spotted Maple and Huī, gently gumming at their bits. She approached them both, and with her good arm, hugged their muzzles tight.

Violet’s effects were returned to her. The Peacemakers, her journal, a few extra odds and ends. The local sheriff was ready to sign her out, when Violet spotted it. Mei’s Winchester, laying forgotten on the table behind him.

“That one there.” She gestured to the gun, and the sheriff turned around. “That there’s my gun, too.”

The sheriff, a bristly old codger with a red nose, rounded back to Violet with suspicion. “That was found on Wong.”

“Well, it’s mine.”

“Do you have a permit for it?”

“It’s okay, Chuck.” Hearst nodded from his corner, taking a load off his injured leg. “It’s hers. Let her have it.” Clearly against his better judgment, the sheriff signed off on the Winchester and handed it over to Violet.

After leaving the sheriff’s office, Violet stood in the center of the street. She was lost. Where to now? Back home? How could she? Violet couldn’t imagine returning to Redrock after everything. Could she try and find Sitting Bear and Rory? Perhaps they had gone to the Bone House, as per Mei’s suggestion, to give Madam Hen the bad news. But even when that thought seemed the most viable, Violet could not bring herself to leave Mei behind.

And so, leading the two horses around the bend, she found a small, shady spot just outside the little town and camped. She didn’t know what she was doing or why. Her whole life had revolved around the Railwalkers for so long…

“I’m ready for the Railwalkers to die.” But was she? Was she ever? When Violet thought back to those fantasies she had once Abernathy was dead and gone, she cursed herself. Even after everything, she was still so naive. They were criminals. Murderers. Murderers did not get happy endings. And so, lying flat on the grass, hidden beneath the trees, Violet finally, for the first time in two days, let herself sleep.

Until about 1:25 A.M.

The first thing Violet heard was a shifting. It sounded like metal on clay. A constant chipping, like an artist carving into rock. Blurry eyed, Violet sat up and rubbed her face. Where was it coming from? That’s when she saw it. Movement, ever so slight, in the left corner of her eye. She watched as something shifted on the wall of the sheriff’s station. And as she picked herself up to move closer, she realized, with a thrill of delight, that it was one of the decidedly loose metal bars that was shifting against the clay and brick. What delighted her further was the sight of two distinct holes beside the bar in question. And a pair of hands, with a small knife, steadily carving away at the clay that held the bricks together.

The bar fell with a hallow clank, and those two hands dropped out of view. Only for them to come back into view as Mei grabbed onto the ledge of the window and hoisted herself up. With speed and agility, she wiggled through the small hole, flipped around, and landed on her feet. She paused. She looked up. She and Violet shared a moment of silence. But rather than running into her arms, Violet shook her head.

“How dare you, Mei Wong…” she whispered. “How dare you do this on your own…”

Mei turned away and began towards Huī. Violet followed her quietly. Fortunately for the pair of them, it was indeed a sleepy little town. “You were just fixin’ to let me go while you faced the noose. How do you think that makes me feel?”

“You shouldn’t be here, Violet.”

“Why? So you can go off on your own? Again? Leave all who love you behind in the dirt?”

Mei pet Huī’s coat. The question hung in the air. Without turning, Mei spoke. “It was my fault. All of it. My fault Linus died. My fault you nearly followed suit. It was my fault Rory was in danger. My fault Sitting Bear was, too. I should have done this on my own to begin with—”

Violet had heard enough. Reaching forward, Violet took Mei’s arms, turned her, and kissed her. It was fearsome, sudden, and without remorse. Mei melted into that kiss, and when they broke apart, Violet had fire in her eyes. Her nerves were steeled. There was no way on this Earth that she would let Mei go a third time.

“We should go,” said Violet. “And Mei…if you ever leave me behind again…I’ll break your goddamn nose.” That, beyond all else, brought a huge smile to Mei’s face. She battled the tears in her shiny beetle eyes and gave Violet one more kiss. Quick as they could, they saddled up and mounted. Violet pulled the Winchester from its scabbard and handed it to its rightful wielder. With one last shared look, Mei dug her heels into Huī’s ribs, and the two set off in a thunderous gallop, and vanished into the horizon.

On July 10, 1886, Mei Wong and Violet Donovan vanished from the public discourse. There were rumors, of course, about the infamous couple. Some claimed that the women killers continued their criminal spree under various names and methods. Some believed that they had retired somewhere along the California coastline, to live in peace until their dying day. But whatever the truth, whatever the reality, one thing was for sure. There had never been, and never would be again, outlaws which struck such fear and such hope into the hearts of thousands as that of the Railwalkers.

THE END

ABOUT RUTH HANSON

Ruth Hanson is an author of LGBT romance.

ABOUT JMS BOOKS LLC

JMS Books LLC is a small queer press with competitive royalty rates publishing LGBT romance, erotic romance, and young adult fiction. Visit jms-books.com for our latest releases and submission guidelines!