Part 61 (1/2)

”It'll hold out if you will.”

I found that neither arm worked as it should, and moving them sent awful pains through me. I couldn't use them to push myself up, so Jesse had to lend a hand. She stooped in front of me, clutched both my sides just under the armpits, and hoisted me up.

As I came off the floor, I went dizzy, staggered, and would've fallen except that she held me steady.

By and by, I was able to stay on my feet without her.

”I need my Colts,” I told her.

”Aim to do some shooting tonight?” she asked. But already, she was hobbling along to fetch them. There were several revolvers scattered about, but she knew which belonged to me. She grimaced both times she crouched to pick them up, and I felt badly about making her do it. Needed my guns, though, and couldn't get them myself.

She came back to me, her face all sweaty from the pain.

”Sure these are the two you want? All this weaponry, there's likely better to be found.”

”They suit me fine,” I said.

She tucked one down the front of her belt, then emptied the sh.e.l.ls out of the other. Stepping in close, she put her arms around me. I felt the heat of her body, the push of her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, the tickle of her hair against my cheek as she worked with one hand to take fresh rounds from the loops at the back of my gunbelt. Then she stepped back and plugged them into the cylinder.

She dropped that Colt into my holster, pulled the other and sent its sh.e.l.ls falling. Once again, she snuggled in while she removed ammo from my belt loops. She was still at it when I kissed the side of her face.

Figured that would fetch me a remark. I was wrong, though. Instead of making a smart quip, she went and kissed me full on the mouth, ever so gentle and sweet. She didn't quit very soon, either, but kept her mouth to mine for the longest time. Her breathing filled me. I let my eyes drift shut, and felt as if Jesse was melting into me.

When she eased away, I near fell over. She braced me up with a Colt and a fistful of ammunition.

”Steady, pardner,” she said.

Pretty soon, she let go of me and finished loading my weapon. She holstered it for me. ”Reckon you'll need a s.h.i.+rt. The ones we wore in ain't much good.”

She commenced to wade through the clothes and weapons and such, searching.

It struck me that one of the dresses scattered about on the chamber floor had likely belonged to Sarah. None looked familiar, though. I hoped that the dress Jesse wore wasn't Sarah's, but judged that it wasn't. Jesse was shorter and slimmer than Sarah, so the dress wouldn't have been such a good fit. Perhaps Sarah's was the dress that Jesse'd used for bandages, and parts of it were even now wrapped tight around the thigh of the woman who'd taken me from her.

”Here you go,” Jesse said, and I was mighty glad to have my mind turned away from the track it'd been following.

She held up a s.h.i.+rt that was dark with dried blood.

”Nope,” she said, and dropped it. ”Ripped too bad.”

Continuing with her search, she picked up quite a few more s.h.i.+rts, one at a time, groaning some with the pain and effort. They all looked quite b.l.o.o.d.y. A couple had rents in the back. None had any bullet holes at all. One didn't even have a tear in the fabric.

The s.h.i.+rts showed how Whittle must've murdered the posse. He'd killed the men with his knives. Likely dispatched them one at a time in the cave's darkness, and hauled them outside afterward.

While I pondered over that, it came to me that few of the dresses or petticoats or other female garments were soiled with blood. Whittle must've stripped the gals naked before laying into them. That came as no great surprise, actually.

I could wear a dress and stay shut of strangers' blood if I didn't mind looking like a girl. But the notion didn't thrill me much.

”That'll be fine,” I said when Jesse picked up still another s.h.i.+rt.

”It's awful b.l.o.o.d.y.”

”They all are.”

She held it up toward the light of a torch. ”Well, least this one ain't torn.”

”He must've slit that poor bloke's throat.”

A corner of her mouth turned up. ”Same as I done him.”

She helped me into that s.h.i.+rt. While it was still open, she ran her hands all over my chest and belly and sides. The caresses felt just splendid. Too soon, she quit and pulled the s.h.i.+rt together and b.u.t.toned it all the way up.

”We'd best get moving,” she said.

She took a few steps backward, watching me as I had a go at walking. Then she fetched the torch that she'd used during her earlier venture outside. With the torch raised high, she led us to the front of the chamber.

There, I took a quick look back at the array of horrors. At the carved bodies. At the scalps and such on pikes. At Whittle, sprawled out dead. Finally, at what was left of Sarah. I hated to leave her in such a place. There was no way to take her with us, though.

One thing I've learned, the dead don't need help. They call for some grieving and often need vengeance, but not much else. It's those still alive who matter.

And so I turned away and followed Jesse toward the outside.

CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE.

The Downward Trail The coyotes scampered off, silent and eerie, when we came out into the moonlight. Jesse tossed the torch aside. It fell near a headless body, casting light on the ghastly work done by Whittle and the other beasts.

We staggered on, and reached the tethered horse. Jesse patted his neck and spoke gently to him.

Was this Matthew Forrest's horse, Saber? Quite likely.

I recalled the morning, so quiet, so lovely with fallen snow, when Sarah and I had entered the stable and discovered that Saber had gone missing. And how we had plotted together to deceive her grandfather. It seemed so long ago. It seemed almost as though a different fellow, not myself at all, had been the one to conspire with her.

Yet this must be Saber. Here, standing before me.

Quite suddenly, the many miles and months between that morning near Coney Island and this night somewhere in the Arizona Territory shrank down to nothing. It had had been me, not a different fellow at all. It might've been yesterday when Sarah and I gazed into the empty stable stall. been me, not a different fellow at all. It might've been yesterday when Sarah and I gazed into the empty stable stall.

Everything felt like yesterday. Standing there among the carnage while Jesse swung the saddle bags onto Saber's back, I quite fell apart. I bawled like a child. For Sarah. For McSween. For all of those who'd crossed my path and died. Even for strangers butchered by Whittle, as every victim this side of the Atlantic had died on my account. Maybe I cried for some I'd killed my own self, though certainly not for him. felt like yesterday. Standing there among the carnage while Jesse swung the saddle bags onto Saber's back, I quite fell apart. I bawled like a child. For Sarah. For McSween. For all of those who'd crossed my path and died. Even for strangers butchered by Whittle, as every victim this side of the Atlantic had died on my account. Maybe I cried for some I'd killed my own self, though certainly not for him.

Jesse took me into her arms. ”It's all right,” she whispered. ”It's all right.”

”It's awful,” I blubbered. ”So many. So many dead.”

”I know.”

She held me for a long while. At last, her embrace and caresses soothed me down. She brushed the tears from my cheeks. She kissed me. ”You ready to go?”

I nodded.