The Chili Queen (25 page)

John had spread out the supper, and they fell to, eating cheese and pickles and dried beef, then finished with cherries and doughy cookies that made Emma long for Welcome’s good spice cake. But John was satisfied with the meal, as he was with most things that came under Emma’s purview. “If I had all the luxuries the world could bestow, I would never wish for a better meal,” he told her. “Why, it pleases me more than a diamond ring.”

Emma thought what an easy companion he had always been and reached for his hand and squeezed it, feeling some of the strain from the day’s terrible hard ride leave her. “Well, I would wish for terrapin and peas, although I admit I was hungry enough to eat beef head roasted in the ground.” She shivered at the thought.

John picked up the flannel shirt Emma had bought and handed it to her. “Put it on before the chill mountain air stiffens you up with cold.” The wind had picked up, sounding like rushing water as it swept through the trees, bringing the scent of pine needles.

Emma buttoned the new shirt over the dirty one. There would be frost before morning, but even so, she liked this high country better than the prairie. She wondered if Ned’s ranch in Telluride were high and cool like this place. As much as she had loved her homestead on the plains, she would sometimes stand in the barnyard there, in the hot sun, looking west and wondering what her life would have been if she and Tom had kept riding toward the mountains and made a farm there. Yank Markham and his men would not have found them. Emma shook her head to rid herself of thoughts of both Tom and Ned and was glad John was stirring the fire and did not see her.

When he was well satisfied that the fire would burn slowly for a while, John got up and brought Emma her bedroll, saying, “I’m sorry these are so lightweight. We shall have to make do for another night or two.” He placed Emma’s blanket near the fire, then spread his on the other side of her, keeping her safe between the coals and himself. “Do you want whiskey to warm you?” he asked.

“No,” Emma told him. “I may go to bed pretty cold, but I will go to bed sober.”

“You were on the drink in Nalgitas,” he said. It was a statement more than a question, and she did not reply. “I believe Addie was a bad influence. Her kind always are.”

“I drank only a little. I did much work around The Chili Queen, as I did not care to get drunk in bed for want of something to do. Besides, Welcome was always there, telling me, ‘You wants to live right so the devil don’t meet you.’ Welcome and Addie got on quite well, I believe, better than I did with either of them. That was odd.”

John only grunted in reply and did not invite her to explore the subject. A few minutes later when Emma looked closely at him, she saw he had fallen asleep. She tucked his blanket snugly around him, then sat looking into the campfire, enjoying the solitude of the place. A high wind came up, blowing across the elevated ridge of the mountains and carrying a few drops of rain, and as Emma shivered beside the fire, she suddenly thought it was the gloomiest night she had seen. But she was too tired to dwell on the subject. She wrapped herself in the cover and rolled so close to the fire that by morning her blanket was singed.

They slept until dawn and awoke to a sky the color of slate. It was a disagreeable morning, dismal and cold. The air was oppressive, and clouds rested against the edge of the mountains, obscuring the view. Emma rose from her blanket, despondent. She felt tired and worn, and she tried to shake off the feelings as she shook out her blanket and wrapped it around herself. There had been more rain, and the ground around them was very miry. The fire was out. Emma picked up a handful of sticks from the pile she had gathered the night before and started a small blaze. John got up then, and took out the provisions Emma had bought in Cañon City.

“We can look for chokecherries and wild currants as we ride. They ripen this time of year. Perhaps the bears have gotten to them first, in which case, we should look out for bears,” Emma said. When John did not laugh, she glanced up to see if he had heard, thinking perhaps he had slipped off without her notice, to check on the horses. But John was squatting a few feet away, looking beyond her, and she continued. “As for breakfast, I hope you like it cold, for I did not purchase a pan in which to warm it. Perhaps we can toast the bread on sticks.” She laughed again, thinking they had not laughed much in the past few days. “Myself, I don’t mind a cold breakfast, but oh my, I should like a cup of hot coffee.” When John still did not respond, Emma looked at him sharply and realized he had not moved. She felt an unspeakable fear come over her then. She shivered a little, telling herself it was nothing. In a few seconds, John would point to a rabbit hiding beneath a sagebrush or a curious formation of the clouds. But he did not. He remained rigid, his eyes gone paler than usual, and without turning to see what John was staring at, Emma looked about furtively for her gun. Then she remembered they had not slept on their arms that night. The weapons were in their saddlebags.

Suddenly there was a clatter that startled Emma so that she cried out. The yellow-and-white coffeepot Ned had bought for her in Jasper bounced across the ground and landed in the campfire at her feet, leaving bits of flaked enamel where it had smashed against the rocks. Emma whirled around, letting the blanket fall, and faced Ned.

“Try that,” Ned said in a tone so measured and cold that Emma thought her blood would clot in her veins. “A picnic is nice duty for a pair of cheating stiffs.” Ned was standing on a shale outcropping above the camp, and Emma thought he must have been viewing them for some time, perhaps all night. She wondered if he had eaten or slept since he left Nalgitas. His clothes were rumpled and dirty, and his hat, which Emma saw was new, was crusted with sweat and dust. Ned lifted his chin a little. His face was gaunt and grime-streaked, and he had a growth of beard. His green eyes were almost black, and his expression was unfathomable. It might have been hate or fury or fear. No, Emma thought, not fear. She did not know what showed on her own face, but what she felt inside was a combination of terror and excitement at seeing Ned again. Her chest felt so heavy Emma wondered that she did not fall face forward.

“Oh, never mind that. We have no coffee,” Emma said in a voice that she hoped was as steady as Ned’s. “You are looking tolerably good.”

Ned stared at her for a very long time, but he watched John, too, and when John started to rise, Ned leveled a gun at him, so John shrugged and remained in a kind of crouch. Then Ned responded to Emma. “Oh, not so good. It appears all my friends have gone back on me.”

“Not friends. Merely acquaintances. It is how the game is played. You know it as well as we do,” Emma said.

“Then I’ll knock the stuffing out of your game—Ma Sarpy, is it?”

Emma jerked up her head at that, but she did not ask how Ned had figured her out. She only knew she had underestimated him. It had been a rash endeavor to take the word of the blacksmith that Ned was too slow and easygoing to be much of a threat. But she should have seen it herself, for she had grown to know Ned far better than had Charley Pea.

Still crouched, John asked in a voice that was steady and slightly amused, for danger made him as cold as mountain water, “What do you want here?”

“What do you think I want?” Ned snarled. “You have what is mine. Give it to me. Then I am going to Telluride, and you may go to hell!”

“Oh, we don’t have the money. We left it in Trinidad,” John told him, with a slight laugh.

The laugh seemed to unnerve Ned. “And I am Grover Cleveland’s horse.” He laughed himself then, but the sound was high and shrill and out of control. Emma ached to see his lazy smile again but knew she never would. “You’re a damned son of a bitch,” Ned added.

Pointing his gun at John, Ned carefully stepped down off the rock until he was on the ground a few yards from them. “Now stand up and be shot like a man, or do you want to die together?”

“You would murder us with one bullet, just like the Minders killed those boys you told me about?” Emma asked.

Pain flickered across Ned’s face, then was gone, and he replied to her as if John were not there. “That was different. Those boys never did anything to anybody.” He lowered his voice until Emma could barely hear him. “What you did, it wasn’t right, Emma. It’s not right to steal a man’s dream. You said things…” He collected himself and raised his voice. “You thieved me out of what was mine, and now you’ll pay for it.”

He looked at her with such hatred that Emma’s hope almost gave way. She said, “We only cheated you out of what you stole yourself. We are no shabbier than you.”

“Oh, yes, you are. Oh, yes,” Ned said. “Besides, I stole the money fair and square, and now, God damn your souls, I’m taking it back.”

The three of them were locked in place, and Emma thought each was waiting for another to make the first move. The scaly situation would have been funny if it had not been so deadly. But no one of them was rash, and so they all remained where they were, while Emma tried to think the thing through. With each job, she and John had weighed the possibility of getting caught, maybe being sent to jail. She had once barely escaped a beating. But she had not expected to be killed. It all seemed unreal to be standing there, yet she had never been so aware of herself or a place. Everything was in focus, just as it had been the day Tom and Cora Nellie were killed, and she wondered why at times of terror in her life, her senses were so sharp. She saw the damp places left by raindrops on the rocks, the aspen leaves shivering in the wind. She made out diseased black spots on the leaves, saw that foliage on a far mountain had already turned gold. She caught the moldy scent of decaying leaves, the smell of horses not far away, the sound of their hooves hitting shale as they moved. The sky was lighter now, the clouds not so black, and in a few hours, there would be blue. She wondered which of them would be alive to see it.

That was an idle thought. She must concentrate. Ned might hate her, and he might kill her, but after what had been between them, he was too decent to do it easily. He would shoot John first. She must be ready to shove John out of the way, catching the bullet if she had to, but she would do it.

“We don’t have it,” John said in a pleasant voice, turning to Emma for confirmation. As John shifted, Emma saw the rock he held cupped in his hand. She had not seen him pick it up, and she was sure Ned had not either or else he would have ordered John to drop it. Emma felt a surge of relief knowing the odds had improved in their favor. Ned had a gun, but he faced two of them, and John had a good arm. Now it was up to her to draw Ned’s attention so that John could kill him. The thought made Emma weak, but she knew there was no choice. If they did not kill Ned, then they would die by his gun. No, no choice, she told herself.

But maybe there was, she thought suddenly. Maybe none of them had to die. “We’ll give you your money,” she said. “It’s in my saddlebags. I’ll get it for you.” Emma indicated the place in the rocks where she and John had stowed their things.

Ned’s lip curled a little as he glanced from Emma to John. He turned back to Emma. “All right, but be easy now. Use your left hand. Keep the right one where I can see it. If you try anything, I’ll kill you. You know I will.”

Emma hoped Ned did not see her shake as, facing him, she took sideways steps, moving cautiously. She kicked a stone out of the way, and it rolled farther than she had thought, over the edge of the cliff, the clattering growing dimmer with each bounce against the rock wall. The sound made Emma grit her teeth. She glanced at John, who still held the rock, but Ned had been too attentive to give John a chance to throw it.

Both men watched as Emma slowly opened the saddlebag and took out the carpet purse that held the money. “It is just as Addie gave it to me. She locked it.” Emma pushed the latch with her thumb to show Ned that the bag did not open. “I don’t have the key. We did not take the time to break it apart.” She felt panic in her breast, wondering if Ned believed her. It was the truth.

“Give it to me,” Ned said.

“No, I’ll smash the lock,” John said. “Half the money’s ours.”

Ned laughed again. “Your half’s mine now. Like you said, it’s how the game is played. You dunned a man and got nix. It’s my turn, and I’ll take it all. First the money and then your horses.” He almost sneered at Emma. “But I won’t take you. I don’t want you anymore.”

Emma already knew that, but the vehemence in the words gave her chicken skin.

Ned glowered. “If this is a trick, why then, I’ll take your lives, too.” He turned to Emma. “I told you once, I’m not much for killing, but I do it now and again when I have to, and it rests easy on me. Just like it does on you.” He stared hard at her. “Now, I’ve had enough of your windy talk. Set the bag on the ground and push it to me with your foot.”

Emma put the bag down as she sent John a pleading glance to tell him it did not matter if Ned beat them. But the look on John’s face, his eyes almost white with fury, warned her he would not have it so. He bent his arm back a little, as he said to Emma, “Why, sonny here has robbery on the brain, and a very small brain it is, from what you have said.” She knew John was trying to make Ned imprudent, and it was a good bet he would succeed, for after what had happened between Ned and her, Ned’s pride was at stake.

But she did not want the two of them to go after each other. She would calm both of them. First, she would save their lives by restoring Ned’s self-respect. After that, she would temper John’s rage. Suddenly, she knew the solution. “Take it then. Take it all. You have outsmarted us, and you win the prize.” Emma dropped the money purse on the dirt, then turned to John. “It is not fabulous riches and not worth so much to me as your life. Do this for me, and I shall make it up to you.” She shoved the carpetbag toward Ned and stepped back.

Ned looked surprised, then wary, as if unsure why she would give up the money so easily. But it was John whom she had misjudged. Perhaps, Emma thought afterward, she had not realized John’s honor was at stake, too. When Ned reached down for the bag, John straightened and raised his arm. Then he threw the rock.