Part 48 (2/2)

Rain seemed mighty unlikely, so we had us a small laugh about her quip. Then we just sat quiet for a spell, enjoying our smokes. When our feet were dry, we got into our socks and boots. I broke some more wood off the buckboard to keep the fire going. Jesse took the whiskey bottle over to the creek and came back with it full. We pa.s.sed it back and forth.

I watched as she unwrapped the turban from around her head. She folded it, then rubbed her scalp and fluffed up her hair, which shone all golden in the firelight. ”You never got to tell me about that feller you knifed in the alley,” she said. Then she pulled the hat off my head. She stuffed her cloth inside, and set my hat aside. ”Let's hear all about it.”

It seemed like days ago that I'd commenced the tale of my adventures, only to get stopped by the downpour. It seemed like years ago that I'd been led by Sue into that East End alley. I spent a few moments collecting my memories, then took up the story where I'd left it off last night.

This time, we didn't have any storm or flashflood. Nothing interrupted. We sat by the fire, sometimes adding wood to it and sometimes having a sip of water, while I talked and talked. I didn't stop with the fight in the alley, but went on and told about taking refuge in Mary's digs, about Whittle and the ocean voyage and my escape from him at Gravesend Bay. I gave Jesse pretty much the same version as what I'd told McSween and the boys around the campfire that time I drank myself into a stupor and fell down. I went easy, though, telling about the murders. I only said Whittle'd cut the women's throats, and didn't let on about the way he'd butchered them.

She asked questions now and again. Mostly, she just listened. About the time I had me and Sarah on the train heading west (of course, I didn't tell her that we'd been more than friends), Jesse stretched herself out along the ground and rested her head on my lap.

”Shall I quit now?” I asked.

”Nope. Just getting comfortable.”

So I plugged on, lying considerable about the trouble with Briggs, but coming back to the truth once he'd pitched me off the train. I told how I'd met up with the gang and got pulled into the robbery, all about ”buying” General and the shootout at Bailey's Corner, how we'd led the posse into a bushwhack, and finally about the attack on our camp.

”Nothing much happened after that,” I finished, ”until you came along and brained me.”

”I sure am sorry about all your friends,” she said. ”That was a mighty hard thing. But you oughta not go blaming yourself. McSween's the feller that took General.”

”Only on account of my needing a horse. If I hadn't chosen to ride with the gang...”

”Blame Briggs, then. He's the snake that chucked you off the train. Or put the blame on Whittle. You got no call to be ashamed of anything you done, Trevor. Why, you'd still be home in England and wouldn't none of it have happened except you took on Whittle to save that gal. The one he was fixing to kill on the street there. That's how I see it, leastwise.”

”I see it that way myself, sometimes,” I told her.

”It ain't rightly your fault Whittle killed them folks on the boat. Nor even that you shot up the posse. Those boys aimed to kill you, plain and simple. Wasn't no better than murder, how they rode in and shot up the gang. The wonder's that you lived through such a pa.s.sel of close shaves.”

”I just wish none of it had happened at all.”

That was sure the wrong thing to tell Jesse.

She opened her mouth, but didn't say anything. She just gazed up at me, her eyes s.h.i.+ny with firelight.

”What?” I asked, a bit slow at seeing my mistake.

She shook her head, then got to her feet and stomped off toward the creek.

I went in the other direction and relieved myself, wondering what had put the burr under Jesse's saddle. She'd turned as chilly as the night air, and it didn't make a lick of sense.

Back at the fire, I looked around and spotted General. I recalled how I'd nearly lost him and Jesse both in the flood on account of hobbling him, so it seemed best to leave him free. He wasn't likely to wander far.

By and by, Jesse came along.

”We oughta break up some more wood and keep our meat smoking,” she said. ”'Sides, gonna be a cold night less we keep the fire up.”

So we commenced to rip some more planks off the buckboard and hack them to pieces with our knives.

”It's a shame we lost our blankets,” I said.

”Well, you only lost the dang things cause you was fool enough to leave home. Should've stayed there with your ma.”

”Oh?”

”Yep. You would've gone and missed out on every last one of the nasty mean things that's come your way.”

”Oh,” I said. Now, I was commencing to catch on to the nature of the problem.

”Yep.”

We carried our loads of wood over to the fire and dropped them into a heap.

Jesse wiped her hands on the front of her s.h.i.+rt.

”I don't regret every everything,” I said. ”I'm quite glad that I met you.”

”That so? Well, you oughta just keep it in mind when you go to wis.h.i.+ng you'd stayed home. How do you reckon I feel, you say such things? And after I gone and kissed you, too.”

When she said that, I stepped right up to her and put my arms around her and pulled her close against me and kissed her on the mouth. I rather expected her to shove me away. She didn't do it, though. Instead, she moaned and squeezed me tight. I couldn't rightly believe my luck. I was actually holding Jesse in my arms, kissing her mouth, and she wasn't fighting me off. It was bully.

But then Sarah came into my head. I took to feeling guilty. She'd given herself to me, heart and body. And here I was, taking up with the first pretty gal who'd come my way.

She's more than just a pretty gal, I told myself. She's Jesse Sue Longley.

I might never see Sarah again, anyhow.

Besides, she seemed like part of my past, part of the life I'd left behind when I took up with the outlaws. She'd never met the train robber, the horse thief, the murderer. The boy she'd known was dead and gone. She'd likely have no use for me.

With Jesse in my arms, I had no more use for Sarah, either.

Best to forget about her.

Jesse pulled back and looked me in the eyes. ”What's troubling you?” she asked.

”Nothing at all.”

”Don't you fib to me. What is it?”

I just shook my head. I tried to hug her again, but she held me off.

”Time we got us some sleep,” she said.

”But Jesse...”

She didn't say anything, but pulled the German's pistol out of her belt. Stepping past me, she fetched the folded trouser leg from inside my hat.

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