The Last Good Day, стр. 46

“I look forward to meeting your wife,” Julie said.

Riley dropped his head and sighed. “Don’t have one, a widower. Lydia died givin’ birth to William.”

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t know.”

“No reason you should. Thank you,” he said. “Got some cool water in the pitcher if you want a drink while I take care of the horse. Gettin’ hot early today.”

“That’s very kind of you,” Julie said.

Riley helped her down from the buggy, brought a chair over for her to sit down, got her a glass of water and handed it to her. “Won’t take long to feed and curry him. You need anything, holler.”

“Thank you,” she said and sat down with her glass of water and put her hand bag in her lap.

Riley filled the feed bag and hung it on the horse’s head and walked back over to Julie. “Well, ain’t seen hide nor hair of ‘em. Been over two weeks. Would think they would be back by now if they was comin.’”

“Gonna wait a little while longer.”

“Keep a watchful eye,” Riley said. “Church is just plain mean. Would enjoy hurtin’ you, and the sheriff, too. Round here it’s Travers’ way or no way. Got two boys to take care of, I do.”

Riley didn’t come straight out and say it but Julie knew he was telling her he couldn’t help her. After Riley was done with the horse he helped her back up on the buggy and she drove out. A little ways down the street, Booker Church appeared on his paint and rode up next to her and grabbed the reins and stopped her horse.

“Mr. Travers thinks it time for you to leave and so do I.”

“Well I don’t, so let go of my horse.” She placed her hand in her hand bag.

“Your friends are not coming back,” Church said, “they know better.”

“They’ll be back.”

Church smiled. “Be the biggest mistake they’ll ever make.”

“Let go of the reins.”

“That pretty little nigger gal can stay, too, got plans for her.”

“You can’t buy and sell people anymore, Church.”

“Might better keep a close eye on that boy of yours, could have an accident.”

Julie jerked the reins and Church let go. “Get out of my way,” she said, slamming the reins against the horse’s backside and he trotted away, with Church leaning on his saddle horn, watching and grinning.

27

The sun was moving slowly across the Texas sky, showing no mercy for man nor beast.

“How long will it take us to get back to Traversville?” Tommy asked.

“Four, five days,” B.W. said. “Can’t diddle-daddle around out here, too many bad things can happen.”

“Can get so hot you could fry an egg on a rock,” Rance said. “You stay out in it long enough can fry your brain, too.”

“Yeah, think we had enough for today,” B.W. said. “I’m startin’ to see cornbread walkin’ across the ground.”

“Those mesquite trees ahead are a good place to make camp,” Rance said.

“Can we build a fire?” Tommy said.

“Better not,” Rance said. “We’re still in dangerous country.”

“Got some canned beans and jerky,” B.W. said.

“Oh goody,” Tommy said, wrinkled up his nose and frowned.

“Beats goin’ hungry,” B.W. said.

They rode the horses up under a low-hanging limb, dismounted and unsaddled the horses and found a place to bed down under the shade of the trees, poured some water down the horses from a goat bag and tied them to a picket line. They strung a rope around their bed rolls to deter snakes coming too close. Sometimes it worked and sometimes it didn’t.

“Kind of strange the way the weather is out here,” B.W. said. “Hot as the hinges of hell durin’ the day and cold at night.” He took the whiskey bottle out of his saddle bags, took the cap off and took a swig. “Want a shot of whiskey, major?”

“Don’t mind if I do,” Rance said. “Help take the chill off.” B.W. handed him the bottle.

Rance took a big drink and handed the bottle back to B.W.

“What about me,” Tommy said. “I’m cold too.”

“Sorry,” B.W. said. “You don’t get no more whiskey, might start to like it. Drink water, cover up with your blanket.” B.W. screwed the cap back on the bottle and put it back in his saddle bags.

“You handlin’ that whiskey real well now,” Rance said.

“Got too much ridin’ on me staying sober,” B.W. said. “You and Tommy catch a wink, I’ll take the first watch.”

“So you’ll know,” Rance said, “wouldn’t want anyone else at my back.”

“Feel the same way,” B.W. said.

Sounds they never heard in the daylight were loud in the dark every night. Prairie dogs barked, coyotes wailed and night birds chirped. The wind whistled through the little trees and shadows appeared from unknown creatures.

The next morning, they rode for hours across the barren prairie until a hot summer wind blew up a dust storm that made it impossible to go on.

They found a dry creek bed to block the wind and dust, tied their bandanas over the horses’ eyes, stuck their hats in their saddle bags, put on their slickers and pulled them up over their heads and then huddled together against the creek bank and hung on to the horses’ reins for dear life with both hands until the dust storm was gone.

By the time the storm was over, the heat was already on its way early the next morning.

They saw two riders coming toward them through the shimmering heat waves, too far away to tell who or what they were.

“What do you think?” B.W. said.

“Best to let ‘em come to us,” Rance said. “Use the creek bed for cover.”

“I’ll saddle the horses,” Tommy said.

B.W. picked up the double-barrel, cracked the breach to make sure it was loaded and snapped the barrels shut.

“Tommy, you stay down and watch the horses,” Rance said.

They waited for the riders to come into focus. There were two riders on one horse and a lone rider on the other,