“Well ma’am, there is no Miss Patty, and it ain’t that kind of pie.”
“What do you mean?”
“Ah, well, the name ain’t got nothin’ to do with bakery goods.”
“Well what kind of pie are they—?” She stops in mid-sentence and makes a face like she’d swallowed some liniment after thinkin’ it were candy. “That…is…the single most disgusting thing I have ever heard! You’ll march over there immediately and make them take that sign down!”
“But ma’am,”
“Don’t ‘but ma’am’ me! You’re being paid to do a job and I expect you to do it! I want that sign torn down today, and those women flogged!”
“Flogged?”
“Publicly.”
“I can’t just go around floggin’ women in the street.”
Clair Murphy aims her evil eye at me again and says, “There’s going to be hell to pay! Hell to pay! Do you understand?”
Before I can answer, she stomps off even angrier than Mrs. Plenty had stomped.
When she opens the front door to leave, a stick of dynamite comes flyin’ in the room, hits the floor, bounces twice, and comes to a stop about six feet from the table where I’m sittin’. The fuse is short, and burnin’ fast.
28.
I JUMP TO my feet while drawin’ my gun and surprise myself by shootin’ the fuse off the end of the stick just before it blows. I take a deep breath and try to cipher what just happened. Suddenly the door is kicked open and another stick of dynamite comes flyin’ through. This one hits the table and bounces up. Before it hits the ground I manage to shoot the fuse off that one as well.
Furious, I holster my gun and start walkin’ straight for the front door with quick steps. While I’m doin’ that, nine things happen at the same time.
First, the door gets kicked open again.
Second, another stick of dynamite comes flyin’ through.
Third, I catch the dynamite in my right hand and crush the fuse against my chest to snuff it out. I do all this without breakin’ my stride.
Fourth, I drop the dynamite, and draw my gun, all in the same motion.
Fifth, I hear Bose Rennick’s gorgeous voice on the far side of the room, behind me. “That’s mighty fine shootin’, Sheriff.”
Sixth, I hear six clicks come from Bose’s gun and wonder how he could’ve forgot to load it with bullets.
Seventh, without even turnin’ my head, I yell, “Rudy: Tag!”
Eighth, I pull open the front door and see Sam Hartman standin’ a few feet away, lightin’ another stick of dynamite. He gives me an “Oh, shit!” look and I shoot him in the center of his chest.
Ninth, Rudy “tags” Bose so hard he slams into the wall, and hits the floor, unconscious.
As I cross the floor toward Bose, I hear the stick of dynamite explode in the street. It shatters my front door, sendin’ all kinds of wood and glass splinters flyin’ everywhere, but I don’t so much as turn around. I just keep walkin’ toward Bose, with my gun aimed on him. When I’m standin’ over him, I put my gun a few inches from his head and pull the trigger.
But the only sound my gun makes is a click.
I pull the trigger again, get another click.
A gunman always knows how many bullets he’s got, and I know I shot two fuses, a man, and just now, two clicks. Which means I’ve got another bullet in the chamber. I pull the trigger once more.
Click.
Bose comes to, and looks up at me with his terrifyin’, crazy eyes. I draw back my gun, to crash it against his skull. It ain’t sportin’, but neither is a dynamite ambush.
I aim to kill him, once and for all.
Out of the corner of my eye I see Rose move behind me. Bose sees what I’m up to and knows he’s helpless. He don’t even try to speak, just closes his eyes and waits for me to bust his skull. I start to do it, but at the last possible second, Rose says somethin’ that shatters everythin’ I ever thought I knew or understood. I hear the words, but they make no sense.
I’m dumbstruck.
So confused am I, she has to repeat her words.
From behind me, for the second time, Rose says, “Let him go, Emmett.”
I turn my head just enough to see her holdin’ a gun on me.
29.
“ROSE?”
She steps past me and hits Bose over the head with her gun. It wasn’t a skull-smashin’ hit, more of a tap, just enough to knock him unconscious again. Then she says, “We need to get him out of here.”
“I aim to kill him.”
“No.”
“What do you mean, no?”
“I won’t let you kill him.”
“Why?”
She says, “It’s too late. They’re coming.”
“Who?”
She nods to the area where my door used to be. “The whole town.”
Rose is right. Within seconds there’s thirty people pushin’ through the front openin’. I give Rose an angry look. Thanks to her, I lost my one opportunity to murder Bose Rennick in cold blood.
Within moments the town wants to lynch him. I’d be one of ’em sayin’ the same thing, ’cept for this cloth badge in my pocket. The badge changes everythin’. I don’t know the law as well as some, but I know the badge won’t let me hang a man without a trial. I find myself havin’ to protect the very man I would a’ killed a minute earlier if I hadn’t been interrupted.
A lot of things that happened tonight don’t make sense. Like how come Bose’s gun didn’t fire six straight times? And how could mine misfire three? In my entire life—even with wet ammunition—I never saw six, or even three straight misfires. And both at the same time? Impossible. And why wouldn’t Rose let me kill him? And what happened to Gentry and Wing Ding? They were both in the kitchen when Bose came through. How could they not have seen him, or remained quiet when I started shootin’ in the very next room? Or when the dynamite went off right outside the door? And how could Bose walk right past Rudy without seein’ him? Like I say, it don’t make sense.
And now, suddenly, Gentry’s by my side, and Wing is helpin’ me drag Bose Rennick to my indoor jail hole. Who’d a’ thought he’d be my first prisoner? I’m not happy about him bein’ alive, but the good news is, he ain’t goin’ anywhere, and he’ll be easy to convict.
Before tossin’ him in the hole, we clean out his pockets and find a knife, two derringers, sixteen bullets and eighty-eight dollars. After lockin’ him up, we go out front to search Sam Hartman’s pockets, but learn there ain’t enough of Sam to search. After a few minutes we’re able to find a few chunks of him, and Wing says his uncle will bury Sam’s bones for free if his hogs can eat the meat off ’em. That sounds like a fair trade to me, and when no one objects, that’s what we do.
I hire several men to help us clean the main room of the Spur. I can’t patch the door till the lumber shipment arrives from St. Joe tomorrow, so that’s an issue. Another is Rose. I can’t find a private place to talk to her, so I ask her to come with me to Shrug’s room. When we get there, somethin’ else ain’t right.
“Where’s Shrug?”
“He left before they got here.”
“When?”
“While you were talking to the Murphys.”
I frown. “Did you see him leave?”
“What difference does it make?”
“Well, is he okay?”
“He’s fine. I made him go.”
“Why?”
“I was afraid he’d kill Bose to protect you.”
“Where did he go?”
She looks up at the ceilin’.
“What,” I say. “On the roof?”
“In the attic.”
“He’s in the attic now?”
Rose shrugs.
“Why can’t I hear him?”
She smiles.
“What happened to Gentry?” I say.
“I cleared her head.”
“What the hell does that mean?”
“It’s like she’s awake, bu
t sleeping.”
“And Bose?”
“I felt him coming, and fixed it so he couldn’t see me, Wing, Gentry or Rudy.”
“You fixed it.”
“Right.”
“And his gun?”
“I fixed that, too.”
“And mine?”
“Yes.”
“But you let me shoot the first three shots.”
“I did.”
“You let me kill Sam Hartman.”
“Yes.”
“But not Bose.”
She says nothin’ in reply.
I stare at her for a long time without speakin’. Finally I say, “I’ve known you for years.”
“Yes.”
I take a deep breath, let it out slowly. “You owe me an explanation, Rose.”
She nods.
“Well?”
“It’s hard to explain. I’m not sure where to start.”
“Start at the beginnin’.”
“That’s too much to tell.”
“Then tell me this. Why did you stop me from killin’ Bose Rennick?”
Rose is a beautiful woman. Her hair is black as coal, and her eyes change dependin’ on what she wears. Right now they’re the color of an almond husk, with a light green tinge around the circle in the center. Her skin is milky white and never darkens, even after months outdoors in the sun. She’s slight in size, though well-conformed and proportional. Her hips ain’t suited to birthin’, but still manage to draw admirin’ glances from men and women alike. I notice all this about her ’cause there ain’t much else to do till she answers my question.
Which she finally does.
“You and Bose are linked together,” she says.
“We’re what?”
“Linked. Your destinies. You’re tied together in life.”
“By what?”
“Common purpose.”
“Which is?”
“That I can’t tell you.”
“Well, you ain’t told me nothin’ then, have you?”
I can tell she’s strugglin’ to think of a way to tell me somethin’, without tellin’ me everythin’.
She bites the corner of her lower lip and starts over.
30.
“EVERYONE HAS A purpose in life,” Rose says.
“What’s mine?”
“To live awhile longer.”
“Why?”
“That I can’t—”
“Right. You can’t tell me.”
She says, “I have a purpose, too.”
“Can you tell me that?”
“I can tell you some.”
“Go ahead, then.”
She moves to the bed Shrug had been recuperatin’ in, and sits on the side. Then brushes a strand of hair from her eyes and tucks it behind her ear to hold it in place. She says, “I’ve lived a lot of years, and I’ll live a lot more. And while I’m alive, I’m tied to a certain lineage of humanity.”
“I don’t have any idea what you’re sayin’.”
“I know.”
I sigh. “Am I just stupid?”
She smiles. “Not at all. It’s my fault, not yours. I’m a protector. I protect a certain line of people.”
“Go on.”
“Pretend I age one year for every ten that other people age.”
“What?”
“Just pretend. It’ll make it easier for me to explain.”
“If you explain much more, I might have to put you in a crazy home.”
“You’ll put me in no such place!”
“I was joshin’. But I don’t approve of the tone you just used.”
“You’ll get that tone again if you talk about putting me away. You have no idea what being locked away is like.”
“I once spent three days and nights in a leaky jail hole in January!”
“The suffering you’ve experienced in life is like eating a sugar cookie.”
I frown at her. “A sugar cookie.”
“That’s right.”
“Fine. Forget I said it then. I’m still peeved about this business with Bose Rennick.”
“Fine,” Rose says. “Now pay attention, because I don’t think I can say this twice.”
“Okay.”
“Don’t try to believe me, or argue with me, just hear me out.”
“Okay.”
“If Bose Rennick dies, you die.”
“What? That’s ridiculous.”
“Emmett?”
“Sorry. Go on.”
“I can’t allow you to die, and can’t allow Bose to die.”
“Then why ain’t you followin’ him?”
“Because I didn’t realize who your link was until last fall.”
“When he ambushed us on the trail?”
“That’s right.”
“And somehow you knew he and I were tied up together.”
“Yes.”
“And you’re protectin’ us.”
“Yes.”
“But you ain’t been here since October. And you ain’t been followin’ Bose around, as far as I can tell.”
She’s quiet, waitin’ to see if I can figure it out. I think on it a minute and say, “Are you tellin’ me the only way Bose and I are gonna die is if one of us kills the other?”
“Yes.”
“So if Bose ain’t around, I’ve got nothin’ to worry about?”
“That’s generally true.”
“Generally?”
“You could die at any time.”
“But if I do, Bose dies?”
“That’s right.”
“Then I don’t understand. If you’re protectin’ us, why ain’t you protectin’ us?”
“Because I have a life, too. And my vision is that one of you kills the other.”
“But you could be wrong?”
“I could be.”
“Which of us kills the other?”
“In my vision?”
“Uh huh.”
“I can’t tell you.”
“Just say if it’s me. I hate that silky-voiced bastard.”
“We’re getting off track here.”
I frown again. “I guess there’s some satisfaction that if he kills me, he has to die too.”
She nods.
“How long do I have?”
“What do you mean?”
“After I lynch Bose, how long before I die?”
She pats my leg. “You’re not going to lynch Bose.”
“Oh, really?”
“Really.”
“And why’s that?”
“Because you’re going to help him escape.”
31.
“YOU MUST BE crazy if you think I’m gonna help Bose Rennick escape from my jail. Why, I’d be the laughin’ stock of the town. After all that time I put in, and all that talk I done about it? There’s no way!”
“You will let him escape. We just have to figure out how.”
“Give me one good reason why I should.”
“Gentry. Because you’ll die three days after he does.”
“First of all, I don’t believe a word of this destiny thing. Him gettin’ lynched can’t cause my death. That’s just mumbo-jumbo. Not only that, you might be off on your three days.”
“Just…pretend it’s true for a minute, and pretend I’m trying to save your life.”
I take a deep breath while rememberin’ Rose has saved my life several times in the past.
“Okay.”
“How can you help him escape?” she asks.
“Guess I’d just open the hatch and let him run off.”
“He aims to kill you, Emmett. He’s not going to rest until he does.”
“What if you told him the same thing you told me? That we’re linked by destiny.”
“You know Bose pretty well, don’t you?”
“I know him some.”
“Do you think he’d believe that?”
“I don’t know. He was there when you spooked his horse last fall. He was here today
when his gun didn’t work.”
“Trust me. He’ll kill you in a heartbeat, now that he knows where you live.”
I pause a minute. Then say, “Supposin’ you’re right about Bose and me. How long are you gonna protect us from each other?”
“Until the big event.”
“The big event.”
“That’s right.”
“And what’s that?”
“I can’t tell you.”
“Of course you can’t. But since you’re the only one who had a vision, and since you won’t share it, you’re gonna have to come up with the plan for how to keep him from killin’ me after we let him go.”
She nods. “Fair enough.”
“You got a plan?”
“Not yet, but I’ll work on it.”
“Well, you better be quick, ’cause that bunch downstairs wants blood.”
“I know.”
I turn to leave the room. She stops me by sayin’, “Emmett?”
“Yeah?”
“That was a brilliant piece of shooting you did today.”
I search her face to see if she’s makin’ fun of me. She don’t appear to be.
“At first I thought it was me doin’ the shootin’. Then I figured it must a’ been you.”
“It was you, Emmett. You’re the most amazing gunman who’s ever lived.”
“That you know of.”
“Trust me, Emmett. You’re the best.”
“What about Bad Vlad?”
“Not even close.”
“And Bose Rennick?”
“Very close.”
“He’s that good?”
She nods.
“I never seen him draw and shoot.”
“He drew and shot today, after coming in the back of the saloon.”
I think about how I heard his voice and then six clicks. He must a’ drawn and shot after speakin’, which was a split second later.
“How come he’s got such a beautiful speakin’ voice?”
She shrugs. “It’s his other gift. Everyone gets at least two, in my experience.”
“What’s Gentry’s? Besides beauty?”
“Her other gift is you.”
“Really?”
She nods.
“What’s my other gift? Besides bein’ a good shooter?”
“It’ll sound silly to you.”