Part 46 (2/2)

”How long has he been gone?” I asked, and started on the knots between her boots.

”I ain't been keeping track of the time, Trevor.”

”What did he do to you?”

”Brung me here, what do you think?”

”Did he hurt you?”

”Oh, he was just as gentle as a lamb on Easter Sunday. What's the matter with you? Sure he hurt me.”

”He took your s.h.i.+rt?”

”The flood got that off me. If it hadn't, he would've. Put his hands all over me, the dirty snake.”

The last bit of knot was too tight. I couldn't work it loose with my fingers, so I hunched down low and went at it with my teeth. The feel and taste of the rope put me in mind of when I'd chewed Trudy's knots aboard the yacht. I suddenly remembered all that had happened to that poor woman, and how useless I'd been when it came to saving her.

Jesse broke into my thoughts, and I was glad to have them stopped. ”The d.a.m.n sidewinder was happier than a thirsty tick on the hind end of a hound dog. Should've seen how he pawed at me. Put his d.a.m.n mouth all over me, too, once he had me tied good. Don't know how come he didn't go on and do the rest of what he wanted. Just stopped and grinned and said, 'Vee haff you later, yah? I must Eva and Heinrich find.'”

The knot came apart in my teeth. I unhunched and pulled at the rope.

”Then he wandered off downstream,” she said.

”He should've gone upstream,” I said. ”That's where they are.”

”You seen 'em?”

”They're dead.”

”That oughta suit him. I reckon he aimed to shoot his wife, anyhow, if she wasn't drowned. He was looking mighty peculiar and sly when he went off.”

I flung the rope away and stood up. ”We'd best light out before he...”

Jesse made a quick grab for the Winchester. Just as she shouldered it, a gunshot blasted the stillness. A section of one spoke on the wagon wheel exploded, throwing splinters into her hair. I was whirling around grabbing iron when she fired.

Her bullet took out the German's knee. He was standing in the open about forty paces south of us, levering a fresh round into his Henry. The slug smacked his trouser leg and drilled through. Blood splashed out. He squealed and lurched backward. When he came down on the hit leg, his knee folded.

That's when my first bullet hit him. It punched his forearm. The stock of his rifle jumped and knocked him in the chin. His head flew back. He flung out his arms. The rifle started to fall. I put a bullet into his stomach. He was still up, but going down fast. Before he hit the ground, I laid three slugs into his chest. He landed flat on his back and jerked about and shuddered. Then a rifle went off behind me. The bullet got him under the jaw. He flinched and went still.

Turning around, I found Jesse was standing, the Winchester at her shoulder as she worked the lever. She sighted in on the German, but only just stood there and didn't fire. By and by, she lowered the rifle. She looked at me. Her green eyes were wild and fierce, and didn't show a bit of the fun that had nearly always been there before. She took a deep breath. When she let it out, I could see her shoulders tremble some.

”Are you all right?” I asked.

She nodded. Then she clamped the rifle stock tight under her arm. It rather flattened the side of her breast and pushed the whole mound outward a bit. The sight stirred me up. I didn't let on, though, and looked away quick.

We walked over to the dead German. We stood above him and gazed at him, not saying anything. I went about reloading. My hands shook.

”You'll need a s.h.i.+rt,” I said.

”You shot his full of holes.” Jesse squatted beside him, set down the rifle, and pulled her Bowie knife out of his belt. She shoved its blade down the side of her boot. Then she commenced to unb.u.t.ton his s.h.i.+rt. It was drenched and red. ”Reckon I can wash off the blood.”

”You can wear mine, if you like.”

”This one'll do me fine.”

After the b.u.t.tons were open, I wrestled the body up and slumped it forward over its outstretched legs. I held it that way while Jesse pulled off the s.h.i.+rt. Then I let it down. We went to the sh.o.r.e and Jesse crouched on a rock and scrubbed the s.h.i.+rt.

I watched her.

We'd just killed a man. I'd just spent a good part of the morning with the dead woman and her son.

I'd spent the night figuring Jesse was dead.

But here she was, alive and was.h.i.+ng the blood off a s.h.i.+rt.

I felt rather dazed and sick, sore with pains all over my body.

But standing there, watching Jesse, I felt quite wonderful. Her dungarees hung low on her hips. Her moist back glistened in the sunlight. It was smooth and slick, though scratched and bruised here and there. The b.u.mps of her spine pushed out at her skin. Her shoulder blades slid about. Some damp ringlets of hair curled against the nape of her neck. I could see the side of one breast, and watched how it jiggled just a little as she worked. Sometimes, the nipple brushed against her knee.

When she finished, she stood up and shook open the s.h.i.+rt and raised it toward the sky. The worst of the blood was gone. Only some rusty stains remained. ”Good enough,” she said. Turning around to face me, she swept the s.h.i.+rt behind her back and pushed her arms through its sleeves.

”You don't mind wearing a dead man's s.h.i.+rt?” I asked, knowing how it was. I'd spent a lot of time in the clothes of dead men.

”After what he done to me-and what he was fixing fixing to do? I to do? I like like it.” it.”

She fastened the b.u.t.tons. The s.h.i.+rt was far too large for her. As she went to roll up the sleeves, she looked down to study herself. Her skin showed behind the bullet holes. The nipple of her left breast poked out through one of them. When she saw that, she laughed. ”Shoot,” she said. ”Reckon we better trade off, or you'll wear out your eyes staring at me.”

”That one's quite fetching, actually.”

With a playful smirk, she showed me her fist. ”Give,” she said.

So we both shucked off our s.h.i.+rts and traded. The German's was wet and cool. It felt good on my hot skin, but gave me a squirmy feeling.

I followed Jesse back to the body. She took the dead man's belt. It had cartridges in loops for his Henry and his revolver, but no holster. His Colt was tucked into a front pocket of his trousers that was lined with leather. Jesse cinched the belt around her waist, checked to see that the revolver was loaded, then pushed it down under the belt at her left hip, b.u.t.t forward for a cross-draw.

”Too bad he don't have no hat,” she said.

”I'll let you wear mine.”

She looked up at it, squinting against the sun. ”Where'd you find that?”

”Oh, it washed ash.o.r.e.”

As I reached for it, she said, ”No, you keep it on your own head. I already lost it once for you. Anyhow, I've got me an idea.”

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