Work Text
I, Serena Riddle, am setting this pen to paper to defend myself against assertions made by various dime novelists. They claim I’m a savage of dubious parentage whose lust for blood is matched only by my lust for men; that is most certainly not true. I was born on March 7th, 1859, the daughter of a white woman and an Apache medicine man. My birth name, Ayasha, which means “little one”, is arguably even more exotic than the moniker I adopted later in life. I have no recollections of my mother whatsoever, as my father raised me by himself.I became both daughter and son to him. The village women taught me to sew and cook. I learned tribal medicine by watching my father care for the sick, the injured, and the dying. Father showed me how to hunt, and most importantly, how to defend myself. After much pleading, Father taught me what English he had learned from my mother. I pieced together that they had fallen in love when Mother came to the reservation with a group of people who wanted to “civilize” the Apaches using Christianity. What happened to her after that remains a mystery.About a month after I turned fifteen, Father called me into our wikiup. He looked troubled, shifting about as he filled a medicine bag.“What is it?” I asked, alarmed.“Comanche,” was Father’s answer. “They are coming here. I have seen it. They have done what they pleased with our women before. You, Ayasha, are a woman now. I am afraid for you. You must leave the Warm Springs.”The reservation was the only home I’d ever known. Living elsewhere was unthinkable.My voice was small and childlike as I asked, “Father, what will I do? Where will I go?”“You will be able to make a good life for yourself,” said Father, his voice breaking. “You can walk into their world as a white woman.”I had inherited blue eyes from my mother, and my skin was fairer than the rest of the tribe. Father’s theory was sound, except for my tribal attire, which would give me away instantly.“I can’t leave,” I said, my own voice cracking. “What about you, Father? And the women who raised me?”“We will be all right,” Father said. Looking at me for the first time since the conversation had begun, he added, “Please, Ayasha, do not make me beg. You will go someplace safe. And you will leave tonight.”“Yes, Father,” I managed to say, knowing better than to argue with an elder.I didn’t know if I would ever see my friends and family again, so it was with a heavy heart that I mounted the blue roan stallion Father had tamed for me. There were tears in Father’s eyes as he handed me his hunting knife and a medicine pouch. I squeezed Father’s hand tightly, not wanting to let go.“May the Great Spirit protect you,” Father sobbed as I nudged Storm Cloud’s sides with my heels and the two of us galloped away.Half-blinded by tears, I zigged, zagged, and doubled back on myself all over the trails near the reservation. The last thing I wanted was to lead the attackers to my family at Warm Springs. I rode until past dark, trying to find the safest possible place to camp. I hoped to find somewhere with plenty of brush, but I wasn’t that lucky. Storm Cloud, sensing my uneasiness, kept vigil over me as I slept in the open prairie.I soon arrived in a little town called Lincoln. I was at a complete loss for what to do next. I had no money, nothing except my horse, my knife, my medicine pouch, and the clothes on my back. I had never felt so alone and frightened in my life; I must’ve looked it too, because a concerned looking man approached me.“Oh, there, there, my dear girl,” he said with a lilting accent that I would come to know as Irish. “Whatever’s been done to ya, it’s all over now. You’re safe.”It was apparent he thought I had been kidnapped by the Apaches and was overwhelmed with relief to be back in civilization. He told me his name was Lawrence Murphy. He took me into the nearby saloon and introduced me to a woman he called Raven. She was wearing the lowest cut dress I had ever seen in my life. He told her to clean me up and put me in some respectable clothes. Raven led me up the stairs and prepared a tub of hot water. Once I had washed, she dressed me in lacy underthings and began the painful process of combing the knots out of my hair.Raven put a second undergarment on me; when it was tightened, I could barely breathe. It also had the effect of thrusting my small bosoms upward and making them appear much larger. I was given a dress similar to hers. I felt uncomfortable with my body so exposed, but perhaps this was just the way white women dressed. She painted my lips with something red, then took me back to Murphy, who was sitting at the bar. He walked around me in slow circles, eyeing me up and down.“Excellent, Raven,” he said at last. “She’ll do quite nicely. What’s your name, lass?”“Ayasha,” I said.“I see.” Murphy drew out the last word. “And what is your last name?”I didn’t know what a last name was and blinked in confusion.“Well, from now on, we’ll be callin’ ye….let me see….Serena Riddle.”Murphy walked me behind the bar and showed me where the bottles of whiskey and glasses were, promising I could stay at the saloon as long as I liked if I would work for him. And so I became a barmaid. Although it physically hurt to live the lie that the Apaches had harmed me, I knew I would likely be put out the door in less than a minute if Murphy knew I was half-Indian.Musicians occasionally came to Murphy’s Saloon, bringing with them sad Irish ballads and lively bawdy house tunes. I didn’t fully understand some of the songs, but it was a comfort. Music had been a large part of my life at Warm Springs. I worked at learning the words, singing them to myself as I performed my barmaid duties. Apparently, I had a good voice, because I was promoted to performing a few evenings a week with a drunken pianist as my only accompaniment. I didn’t know very many songs, but customers poured in from miles around to see Ravishing Riddle, as I was billed, perform. Not only did I make very good money, my promotion also provided me with a wardrobe of fine dresses and a luxury boudoir upstairs.Sleep was nearly impossible, however. The noise of men breaking bottles and shouting at each other echoed up through the floorboards. Down the hall, I could hear drunken laughter, grunts, and screams. About once a week, slaps or punches joined the din. I had no idea what the other girls were getting up to in their rooms, but I knew I wanted no part of it. I noticed they seemed to resent my presence and wasn’t sure why. Murphy occasionally leered at me or touched my shoulder for longer than I would’ve liked. When I finally told him to get off me, he threatened to slap me senseless. I knew something wasn’t right, but I stayed. As I’ve said, I had nowhere else to go.Months later, I was down in the saloon greeting patrons after a performance. I was approached by an older, well-groomed man who introduced himself as John Tunstall. We were exchanging other pleasantries when Murphy appeared.He put a hand on my shoulder, leaned close, and whispered in my ear. “Take the gentleman upstairs and give him whatever he wants.”As we mounted the steps, Raven mimed taking her clothes off at me. I was horrified. Once we were in my room, I backed myself against the dresser and surreptitiously took my hunting knife out of a drawer. I held it ready at my side.“Come now, dear, there’s no need for all of that,” said John, his accent different than Murphy's, his tone gentle. “I assure you I have no wish to harm you. I would, however, like to make you an offer, Miss…Riddle, is it? I own a beef outfit just outside of town, and I could use some assistance running the place.”At first, I thought that was an odd thing to say. Why come to a saloon girl when there was a room downstairs full of young, able-bodied men?“An innocent young girl like you has no business being in a place like this, Miss Riddle,” John went on. “Mr. Murphy has no right to force you into allowing strange men to do indecent things to you. If you’ll come with me, I can offer you safety and freedom. All I will ever ask of you is that you cook and help me manage my farm.”My head was spinning from finding out exactly what had been going on all those months right under my nose. How had I missed it? I thought for a fleeting second about going downstairs and plunging my knife into Murphy's chest.“I can’t stay here another minute,” I said, taking my medicine pouch out of a different drawer.“Is there a way we can go out and not be seen?” John asked.I nodded. There was a back stairwell, and it was highly unlikely anyone would be using it. John asked if I had any other property to collect. I told him that my horse was outside. Someone in the heavens must have been looking out for me, because John and I managed to get to his wagon without anyone noticing us. I’ll be forever grateful to John for rescuing me.“Do you have any particular skills, other than your lovely voice?” John asked pleasantly once we were outside.Blushing at the compliment, I said, “I’m good with horses. I can ride and I’ve broken a couple. I can cook well enough, haven’t made anyone sick yet. I know a bit about medicine.”“You're quite the well-rounded young lady, Miss Riddle.” John said with a smile.I swung myself onto Storm Cloud and followed John to his ranch outside of town. John carried my belongings into the simple whitewashed adobe house and led me to a back bedroom. White linen curtains were open to admit sunlight, which danced over the highly polished oak dresser, nightstand, and writing desk. The feather bed also had an oak frame and was covered with a colorful patchwork quilt.“This cozy little space will be your room, Miss Riddle,” John said. “I hope you find it to your liking.” He set my things on the bed and added before leaving, “If there is anything at all you need, please don’t hesitate to ask me.”After I put away my few possessions, I explored the ranch property until John called me in for dinner. Most men are terrible cooks if left to manage on their own, but John Tunstall was the exception to that rule. After supper, John handed me a copy of the local newspaper, The Independent. I picked it up, unsure of what to do with it. John seemed to understand the problem. He promised that, beginning tomorrow, he would start teaching me to read and write. We would also go shopping so I could have “some respectable clothes.”True to his word, John bought me a wardrobe of much more modest dresses the next morning. When we got home, I discovered some men’s clothing in the closet in my room and, out of curiosity, tried that on also. They fit, so the man they belonged to must have been quite small. I found the trousers quite comfortable.I knew Storm needed exercise, as he hadn’t been on a decent run for quite some time. Still wearing the men's clothes, I went to ask John if I could accompany one of the ranch hands on the cattle drive. John was a bit reluctant but relented, saying there was a spare saddle in the barn I could use. Lifting the thing was a chore; Storm Cloud shied from it, then reared onto his hind legs when I cinched the girth around his belly. It took nearly an hour to get the saddle completely on him. I’d only ever ridden horses bareback, so all the bouncing around when I trotted and cantered left me aching. Clearly, Storm and I both had a lot to get used to.John, being short of help, agreed to let me work half a day in the house and half a day with the horses and cattle. He admired my tenacity and strength. After supper each night, he gave me lessons in reading, writing, and basic arithmetic. (The last one required incredible patience on his part, as I had little aptitude for it). John also grew to love me like I was his own daughter; I learned John had never married and had no children. Eventually, we dropped “Miss Riddle” and “Mr. Tunstall”, and began using each other’s first names. I liked John a great deal, but he was no replacement for my own father. I missed him terribly and constantly wondered if he was even alive. Later in the year, a young man named Richard “Dick” Brewer stopped by the ranch. He was just passing through, he said, and wondered if we'd be kind enough to give him something to eat so he could keep going on his way. He’d moved out west from Vermont and was looking for work. John, in his charmingly persuasive manner, convinced him to stay.Some time after, Josiah Scurlock, who preferred to be called Doc (as would I if my first name were Josiah), joined us for supper, his story similar to Richard’s. Our number soon expanded to include a brawler named Charlie Bowdre (“pugilist,” John called him) and a bank robber and petty thief named Steve Stephens (also known as Dirty Steve).This is when John Tunstall’s reputation as a philanthropist began; he never turned down anyone who needed a job or a place to stay for the night, no matter how wrong the fellow seemed to have gone.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Through it all, I prided myself on remaining objective, never developing anything resembling romantic feelings towards any of the men John took in. That changed on January 6th, 1876. I was doing mundane household chores when John came home from town, bringing with him a dark-skinned boy about my age. He had a colorful blanket wrapped around himself. Tangled black hair flowed almost to his shoulders, an eagle feather tied in it. My respect for John doubled; not many people would take in Indians.“I met this fine young man in town this morning,” John said pleasantly. “As we’re short of help to take the cattle to winter grazing, I’ve offered him work.”I felt a tug on my heartstrings as I looked closer at the boy. He was shivering violently, and he was much too thin. I guided him into the parlor. As I helped him sit on the sofa, his fingertips brushed against mine.“His hands are like ice,” I told John. “How long has he been outside in this weather?”“I’m not certain, Serena, m’dear.” He replied. “I believe his name is Jose. The poor boy looks to be quite ill.”I leaned down to inspect Jose more closely. John was right; Jose’s brown eyes were sunken and dull with deep shadows beneath them. His clothes were hanging off his frame, his bare feet frostbitten. There was pallor to his dark skin, but no sores, infected cuts, or other readily visible signs of disease.“How did he get like this?” I asked.Jose’s face crumpled. John took me aside and explained the boy's story as best he understood it, because Jose’s English was very poor. Jose was Navajo; Murphy and Company had purposely sent rotten meat to the reservation. The boy had rounded up a few friends to trade in town for food, but the townspeople killed his friends. When he returned home, he found his entire family murdered in the snow. I was shaking with suppressed rage by the time John finished. “Is there anything you can do for him?” asked John.“I have a feeling he’d be more comfortable lying down, but I’m afraid the bunkhouse is too cold. He can sleep by the fire.”John nodded. “I’ll ask the boys to chop some extra wood. You know the most about medicine, so he will be in your charge. Take care of him, please.”“I will,” I promised.“If you’ll excuse me, I must go straighten up some papers in my study,” said John. “The boys are outside if you need someone to ride to town to fetch a doctor for young Master Jose.”I went to the closet where we kept a small pile of bedding for the bunkhouse. I picked up a spare pillow and a blanket. I placed the pillow on the end of the sofa closest to the fire and helped Jose lie down. I could hear his teeth chattering.“My name is Serena, Jose. It’s all right. I want to help you. I’ve got another blanket for you,” I said, even though I wasn’t sure how much would be understood. I covered him. “Just lie here and get some rest.”The whole time I was reassuring him, Jose kept muttering something under his breath, but his voice was so weak I couldn't make out what it was. His eyes had taken on a wild, almost feverish glaze. I did the best I could to calm him, stroking his forehead and gently patting his shoulder through the blankets. His breathing soon evened, and I knew he was asleep.I went into the kitchen to prepare supper. The main course, a pheasant Doc had killed that morning, had already been put on a spit to roast over the parlor fire. As I kneaded a loaf of bread into shape, I watched the boys through the window. Doc was chopping firewood, Charley and Steve were stacking it, and Dick was supervising the other three. I put the bread in the oven to bake, then mashed a bowl of potatoes and set the table. I decided to also make a batch of apple dumplings; the boys could use a treat after working in the cold all day. The smells of baking bread and cooking pheasant steadily grew stronger.Suddenly, a loud cry of pain echoed from the parlor. The noise startled me so much that the knife I was using to chop apples slipped from my grasp, very nearly slicing my hand open. I abandoned my cooking, and hurried into the parlor. I put out a hand to steady Jose, as he was in danger of falling off the sofa. He was writhing with both arms wrapped tightly around his stomach. Between gasps, Jose was talking very rapidly. He wasn’t speaking English or Apache, so I assumed it was Navajo.As quickly as the fit had started, it ended, though there was still a frenzied look in Jose's eyes. His breaths were quick and shallow. From out of nowhere, Jose's stomach gave a huge rumble that left no doubt in my mind that it was completely empty. Jose groaned softly. I winced sympathetically. I knew from my own childhood at Warm Springs how it felt to be that hungry; it was like having a mountain lion claw your belly from the inside. John was standing beside me, having come out of his study when he heard the commotion. “Is Master Jose all right?”“No.”“Have you been able to determine why the poor boy is so ill?”“Yes,” I replied, brushing a stray bit of hair out of my face. “I’m fairly certain it’s starvation.”“Oh dear. Can you tell how long it’s been since the boy’s last meal?”I shook my head. “Not for sure, unless, of course, he can tell me.”“Do you think he can recover?”“Well, he’s weak, very weak. The sooner we get something in his stomach, the better.”I turned back toward the sofa, and I found myself looking into his startlingly brown eyes."Wh...wh..." Jose said, clearly having some trouble with English. He sucked in a deep breath and asked, "Quien es?"I could understand some Spanish, thanks to Mexican customers that came to Murphy’s, but I could barely speak a lick of it.I answered, “Serena,” hoping against hope it might be at least somewhat close to the correct response to what he was asking.He nodded. "Wh...where...this place?""You’re on a farm just outside of Lincoln," I said. "Don't worry, Jose. You're safe now.""Master Jose, you are more than welcome to stay here as long as you wish," said John cordially. "Miss Serena will have you back on your feet in no time."Jose nodded again. John, figuring the crisis had passed, went back to his study. Nothing I was preparing for dinner was even close to being ready, so I went into the kitchen and heated some milk over the stove. It was really the best thing for him at the moment, anyway. Milk would quiet his stomach, warm him up from the inside, and hopefully help him sleep. I returned to the parlor, glass in hand. I crouched next to the sofa, smiling kindly at Jose."Do you like warm milk?" I asked. "It's fresh."From the expression on Jose's face, he was clearly caught in a painful battle between his crippling hunger and his innate suspicion of anything offered to him. His stomach seemed to have won out, since the next thing he did was struggle to push himself into a sitting position. I had to catch his elbow when he nearly fainted.I carefully wrapped his fingers around the glass. "Here. Drink this."His gaze bore into me as he gingerly raised the glass to his nose and sniffed it. He took a sip. His eyes softened as he realized he hadn’t smelled or tasted anything other than milk. He drained the glass in several quick gulps. He thanked me using Indian sign language as he handed the empty glass back to me. I understood him perfectly that time, because all tribes used the same hand motions. He asked for more, and I obliged.Soon after his second glass of milk, Jose fell into another dozy state. I had just gone back into the kitchen to set the table when I heard the front door open and a bundle of firewood hitting the floor. Jose woke with a start, producing a large hunting knife from under the blankets. The boys trooped into the house, shaking snow off their coats and boots, all of them pink-faced from the cold.“Smells like Miss Serena’s makin’ us a real feast,” Dick complimented. He spotted Jose and eyed him with distaste. “What’s that breed doin’ here?”“He ain’t a breed. He’s a greaser,” argued Charley.“He could be a greaser and a breed,” Doc reasoned.“I hate greasers.” grumbled Steve. “And I hate breeds worse.” “Shut your mouth, Steve,” I snapped. He, like the rest of the boys, knew damn well my father was Apache.I opened the oven door to check on the bread. It was golden-brown, so I pulled it out to cool. I went to the fireplace to inspect the pheasant; it still needed to cook a little while. I rolled up the last few apple dumplings and put them in a pot to boil.Dick remained suspicious. “What’s wrong with him? He looks sick.”“An’ it’s prob’ly catchin’ too,” Steve added darkly.“It’s not,” I assured the boys. “John found Jose wandering around town earlier today.” I decided to spare the details about what had happened at the reservation. “He didn’t have a place to stay and was about frozen. John couldn’t leave him.”“I could’ve,” said Steve.The scent of apples dusted with cinnamon began to drift in from the kitchen.“Serena,” Jose said, clutching his stomach.He dragged the side of one hand back and forth across it, as though he were trying to saw himself in half. I recognized the sign language.“I know it hurts,” I said soothingly. “I’ll be right back.”The bread in the kitchen was cool, so I took out my hunting knife and cut a small piece off the end of the loaf. The boys watched curiously as I approached the sofa with the crust.“Why the hell does that greaser get to eat ‘fore the rest of us?” Steve exploded.I was losing my patience. “Steven, he’s half-starved.” I pressed the piece of bread into Jose’s hand, signing for him to eat. “It’s getting near to suppertime. Would you like to join us at the table?”Jose shook his head.“Are you sure?” I inquired. “You just said you’re hungry.”“No make eat bad meat,” Jose said firmly.Steve let out his irritating donkey-like laugh.“Just laugh it up, jackass,” I muttered angrily under my breath.“Did you just call me a jackass?” Steve snapped.When I didn't answer, he got so close to my face that I could smell the tobacco he was chewing.He grabbed my upper arm and repeated himself: “Did you call me a jackass!”“Take your hand off me,” I said in a warning voice.“My mama’s the only one can call me a jackass!”“Nice family,” I said coolly. “I’ll ask you again: Let go of me.”Steve refused. Before I could take a swing at him, Jose punched Steve in the jaw, sending him sprawling on the sofa. His brown eyes were blazing with fury.“Leave lady alone, pendejo,” he said.“What the hell did you call me!” spat Steve.John appeared in the living room.“Dear me, what seems to be the matter?” His voice was deadly calm.“Serena called me a jackass, Mr. Tunstall,” whined Steve.“Serena, we've been over this before,” John said lightly. “A gentlewoman should never stain her lips with cursing.”Jose’s legs buckled slightly; protecting me from Steve had probably taken what little energy he had left. John assisted him back to a chair while I checked the pheasant again. It was finally done. I got Charley and Dick to put it on the serving platter while I took the dumplings off the heat.“It’s time for supper,” I told Jose.Doc helped me steady him and together we walked Jose to the table. I used a damp rag to clean off his hands. John joined us and reminded the rest of the boys to wash up. Once they had, Dick skipped the saying of grace for the first time in living memory and asked me to pass the potatoes. John carved the pheasant. I helped Jose pile up his plate.Dinner was an unusually quiet affair. Jose didn’t have much in the way of table manners, but neither did I when I first came off the reservation. He signed “thank you” and “bless you” to John and I over and over again.After supper, Steve was given the job of washing all the dirty dishes. The rest of us sat in the parlor by the fire. Steve later joined us for our reading lesson. Jose fell asleep on the sofa during it. John decided not to disturb him; he needed rest. The boys went to the bunkhouse, and John left to smoke a pipe in his study. Before I went upstairs to my own room, I couldn’t stop myself from tenderly running my fingers through Jose’s hair.Jose spent much of the next few weeks with me. I allowed him to eat and sleep as much as he wanted, and he steadily regained his strength. It then became my responsibility to teach him to speak better English so that he could participate in the nightly newspaper readings. His first clear request was to ask to be called by his surname, Chavez. While Chavez struggled to master his lessons, the two of us communicated using a bastard mix of English, sign language, and the Spanish I learned from him. We became very close during that time. Even once he no longer needed tutoring, Chavez remained my constant companion. I was one of the few people with whom he was really comfortable. In return, Chavez was always there when I needed help or just someone to talk to; he also saw it as his job to protect me, just as he had done the night we met. The feeling that comes from having a truly outstanding friend my own age was new to me, but I liked it.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
December 28th, 1877
I stood in the kitchen, rolling out a pie crust for supper. I was just about to fill it with blueberries I had canned during the summer when I heard angry voices through the wall. This was hardly anything new; sooner or later, Dirty Steve would get bored with insulting Chavez and find some other way to amuse himself. I decided to try to break up the fight when I saw Chavez's knife come out."Come on, greaser, cut me there!" Dirty Steve challenged."Just leave him alone," I said exasperatedly, addressing both of them."Well, ain't that somethin'?" sneered Dirty Steve. "Chay-vez is gettin' protected by the half-breed squaw."Chavez, angry that I had been insulted, pushed me behind him and wildly slashed at Dirty Steve.“Cut me, damn Mexican! Cut me, damn Mexican!” Dirty Steve taunted."Hey, hey! Knock it off!" Dick commanded, riding up out of nowhere. He planted his horse squarely between Chavez and Dirty Steve. “You know better, Chavez!”Dirty Steve also knew better, but I felt it best not to point that out."Navajo! Navajo!" Dirty Steve crowed."That's enough!" Dick said firmly.There was a tense moment before Chavez and Dirty Steve settled down, though Chavez still held onto his knife."Hey, 'Rena, you got any of those bad-smelling leaves?" asked Dick, motioning to a fresh gash on his cheek.Blood had already run down his face and stained the collar of his shirt; I would have a hell of a time getting that out later. I went into the house to retrieve the needed herb from my medicine pouch. Dick held the leaf against the cut, swearing under his breath a couple of times. The sudden clatter of wagon wheels on the road made all three of our heads snap around.“John’s back,” Dick announced unnecessarily.Our employer and Doc were approaching the ranch in the buggy, home from town. A small young man I didn't recognize was riding in the back of the wagon.Turning to Chavez and Steve, Dick said, "Wash it up and get into your supper clothes."Neither of them moved."Now!" he barked. "Both of you!"Chavez reluctantly sheathed his knife and walked toward the well. I returned to the house to finish cooking. I hoped there would be enough supper now that I was cooking for eight instead of the usual seven. I had barely shut the back door when I heard it open again. My visitor was John’s latest charity case. He wasn’t much taller than me, had golden hair that went halfway to his shoulders, an impish face, and dancing blue-gray eyes. John was at his shoulder."May I help you?" I asked politely.“Please show Master William where the hog feed is,” John requested.Before I could, the new boy indicated me and said, "Mr. Tunstall, I surely hope this fella can cook. I'm powerful hungry."He rubbed his skinny belly for emphasis."I am a woman," I informed him coldly.The kid grinned. "Apologies. I just never seen a woman wearin' trousers before." He turned to John. "May I make the acquaintance of the young dewdrop?""Of course you may," said John, missing or choosing to ignore the sarcasm."I'm William H. Bonney, ma'am," said the boy, making a grand gesture of kissing the back of my flour-covered hand. "Call me Billy.""Serena Riddle," I said.I handed the boy a large wooden bucket, which we kept next to the back door and filled every day with a mixture of dry corn and table scraps. Billy tipped his hat, thanked me, and walked out to the backyard. I watched Billy climb into the pig pen, only to have the hog knock him off his feet. He didn’t seem injured, so I returned my attention to the pie. A short while later, Billy reappeared, covered in dirt, at the open kitchen window. He stuck his head through it."It sure smells good in here," he said, almost wistfully. "Do you need any help? I used to work the chow line at Pete Maxwell's place."I put the pie in the oven."Do you know how to set a table?" I wanted to know."Mm-hmm. Yes, ma'am.""Do that while I carve the roast beef. Dishes are in here." I tapped the appropriate cabinet with the point of my kitchen knife. "Silverware is in one of these drawers."I really couldn't be more specific than that because Doc had washed the dishes the previous night. Doc’s head was always in the clouds, so things never got put away in the proper place.“Serena,” Billy said, as if he were testing the sound of it. He smiled. “I like that name. It’s pretty.”“Thank you.”Billy cocked his head to the side and added, “You sure are a cute little filly. Are you Mr. Tunstall’s daughter?”“No,” I replied. “I’ve just lived and worked here for the last three years.”"I see. So you're the maid?""Not exactly. John took me in, adopted me, you could say. Like the other boys." I explained, gesturing to the yard.Billy got plates out of the cabinet and found the silverware with more ease than I thought he would. I didn’t watch to see if he was setting the table correctly; if he hadn’t, John would see it as an opportunity to teach him. When Billy asked, I told him where to find glasses and napkins.“I’m done, ma’am,” he said a few minutes later.I had run out of chores for Billy to do and didn’t want him attempting to get into the cooking pots, so I said, “Thank you very much, Billy. You can go ahead and ask Dick if he has anything that he needs help with. I’ll call when it’s time to eat.” It was well after dark before I bellowed out the back door, "Supper's ready!"This statement was immediately followed by the general racket of the boys stampeding into the house. Dick, as usual, was the leader of the pack; Billy brought up the rear. He had swapped his dusty black shirt for a gray undershirt. John raised an eyebrow at his attire, but didn't say anything about it. Billy probably didn't have anything else to wear, and John wouldn't want to make him feel out of place. John took his seat at the head of the table and I sat at the opposite end. The boys dropped into their usual chairs, Billy in an extra one I had squeezed next to Doc's."Now that we're all here," said John, "Richard, if you would, please."John crossed himself, the rest of us bowed our heads, then Dick began to say grace. Billy sat with his hands folded, but his head was up, and he was eyeing the spread in the center of the table. Doc nudged Billy hard in the ribs with his elbow. Billy didn't seem to notice. As usual, Dick didn't just say grace; he started into a recital of all the prayers he knew. And Dick knew a lot."For Christ's sake," Billy groaned, pressing one hand into his stomach.Dick glared at him. "Listen, you little rodent--" (He was so upset he probably wanted to call him something worse, but he couldn't because John was around). "Don't you ever take the Lord's name in vain while I'm sittin' here.""Richard!" John's tone carried warning. "That will be quite enough." He turned to Billy. "Master William, I hope you're not judging our household too rashly; it's not always like this. Isn't that correct, Miss Riddle?""Absolutely."I mentally added, 'Sometimes it's worse.'John fixed his gaze upon Dick. "Master Richard, I would appreciate it if you could be a bit more understanding. I think it has been quite a long time since Master William has had a decent meal, so it's only natural for him to be a bit anxious now that he's at our table. Please apologize for being so short with him. In turn, William will apologize to you for taking the Lord’s name in vain."“I will not!” Billy cried.“Very well. Then you shall continue to go hungry.” John’s tone was not harsh, but you could tell he would make good on his word.“Sorry,” Billy mumbled unconvincingly.“Sorry,” Dick answered, just as insincerely."And what is it that you are sorry about?" John prompted.They each gave a reason, talking over each other."You see? That wasn't so difficult, was it?" asked John.Neither man answered.“Tuck in, everyone," John said. "I think the roast beef is getting cold."Billy piled up his plate before any of us had a chance to blink. A little further down the table, Steve and Charley had a furious but silent squabble over the plate of bread.“Well, now,” said John lightly, “look at those appetites.”My eyes immediately flicked to Billy, who was eating like he hadn’t tasted food since the Lincoln administration.“William, I’m afraid that’s not proper table manners.”Billy swallowed. “Sorry, Mr. Tunstall.” "What can you expect from Hog Boy?" piped up Dirty Steve, making a few hideous snorting noises.Billy looked down at his now-empty plate.“William, have some more.” John invited.Billy helped himself to a couple of slices of roast beef and a scoop of mashed potatoes. “Thank you. Miss Serena, you’re quite a good cook.”“Thank you.”“You ever worked beef before, Billy?” asked Dick.Billy told the boys what he’d told me about working at Pete Maxwell's ranch and bragged that he had a way with cattle.“He’s got a way with hogs,” Charley snorted again.“Congratulations, Charles. You and Steven will be doing the dirty crockery alone this evening,” John proclaimed.“We was just hackin’ on you,” Dirty Steve explained to Billy through a mouthful of food.“Rumor has it you killed a man, Billy,” said Dick. “You don’t seem like the killin’ sort.”Billy’s reason for doing so was simple: “He was hackin’ on me.”Dirty Steve and Charley exchanged a worried look at this; Billy just smirked.After the dishes had been washed, we gathered around the parlor fireplace for our nightly newspaper reading. Out of all of us, Dirty Steve was the one on whom John's attempts at education had failed most miserably. He still couldn't even pronounce the word "succeed," for heaven's sake. Once Dirty Steve had stumbled his way through a paragraph, John called on Billy to read."Yeah, sure," Billy said with a roll of his eyes.I wondered if maybe he was embarrassed because he couldn't read.John must have suspected the same, as he said, "William, we're all learning to read and write. Take up the journal and start where the other boy left off, or you can go straight back to your home on the streets."I could almost see the gears turning underneath Billy's feathery blond hair. He had the unflattering nickname of Hog Boy, and we'd already fed him dinner, so what reason did he have to stay? I suppose he decided living with us was better than taking his chances wherever he had come from, because he unfolded the paper and started to read. It surprised me how practiced he sounded."Splendid reading, William." John smiled, patting Billy on the head.I stood up to walk to my room, bidding good night to the boys.The next morning, L.G. Murphy, Sheriff Brady, and his posse paid a visit to the ranch. Sheriff Brady accused John of plundering Murphy's merchandise wagon."That's a fargin' lie and you know it!" said Dick angrily. "John would never steal from anyone.""Look behind you, Earl," Murphy said to John. "All I see are hired thieves...and a loose woman."I tried to remain composed, but Murphy had really touched a nerve with that comment.“These boys are promising young men acquiring an education,” John replied with great dignity.Murphy dismounted from his horse with a lecherous grin. “Well, I’ve had you pegged as the type that—that likes educatin’ young boys, Englishman.”My hands curled into fists."Do you know how much money Sheriff Brady's invested in my store?" Murphy asked. He and John were bidding for the same beef contract. "His life savings. And I'm backed by the Chief Justice, the U.S. District Attorney, the Territorial District Attorney, and the Santa Fe Ring. It's a family thing, John. You don't come prancin' in here with your fat foreign capital tryin' to change it.""I made a very long steamship journey here from London, so I shall be damned if I'm going to be dissuaded by something as ugly as political corruption," John replied calmly. "I'd like you to take your threats and your sheriff and get off my property.""This is a new country. We won't bow down to Englishmen no more." said Murphy, mounting his horse. "Get ready for hell."Murphy rode off, the sheriff and posse behind him. John watched them go, then told us to get back to work.I silently worried as I returned to my chores. This trouble between John and Murphy had been building for some time. Not only was Murphy well-known for being vicious, physically and verbally, he was also well-connected. I could only pray for John's safety.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
I smoothed out my favorite dress as I stood in front of my bedroom mirror. The gown was purple with black trim and a long, full skirt; it cut off at the shoulder. I always felt like the most beautiful woman in the world when I wore it. John disliked it because it was something I wore when I performed at saloons; he felt it was too revealing. My hair was misbehaving, not staying in any sort of bun, so I settled for tying part of it back with a length of purple silk ribbon.I was about to spritz on some perfume when I heard a barrage of gunshots coming from outside. Without hesitation, I grabbed my own pistol and headed to the yard. The shots seemed to be coming from somewhere overhead. I whipped around. There was Billy, sitting cross-legged on the bunkhouse roof with a pistol in each hand, laughing like a hyena. I could have strangled him!"Regulators!" shouted John as he ran out the back door. "Let's dance." Glancing upward, he added, "Please come down from the roof, William. But be careful how you do it. You wouldn't want the town girls to see you in a ripped suit."Billy stood up and jumped from the roof, landing on all fours like a cat. He wiggled his eyebrows a few times as he looked over my dress, then bent to kiss my hand. "You're prettier than a flower blossom, Miss 'Rena.""Which of you gentlemen would like to accompany Miss Riddle to the party?" asked John."I do!" shouted Charley, waving his hand in the air."No, I will," said Billy, shoving Charley."I'd sure like to dance with that piece of calico," said the newest regulator, McCloskey, leering at my chest. (McCloskey claimed he had worked for Murphy and had been fired for calling the Irishman a fat sow).John held up his palm for silence as the squabble threatened to get violent."I think perhaps we should let the lady decide."My eyes traveled through the yard, inspecting each of the boys, all of whom were wearing new (or at least clean) clothes. My gaze landed on Chavez, looking very handsome with his hair in a ponytail."I'm taking Chavez," I said."Me?" Chavez pointed to himself, looking a little confused."Him?!" Billy and McCloskey howled."Now, now, boys. The lady has spoken," John declared as he climbed in the wagon. "Let's go on to town. We can't be late for the New Year's Eve party."With a boost from Chavez, I mounted Storm Cloud, riding astride instead of sidesaddle. Propriety be damned; it's a pain in the ass to control a horse from that position. Chavez then mounted his piebald war pony, Sparks Flying. The boys and I left the ranch, following John and the wagon.Once at the party, we all went our separate ways. Billy quickly struck up a conversation with the prettiest town girl in attendance. Steve, Charley, and McCloskey wanted to drink. John talked to his lawyer friend Alex McSween and Alex's wife Susan. I pulled Chavez toward the crowd dancing around the bonfire."I don't dance very well," he said uncomfortably."All you need is a little practice," I said.We found a place among the other couples, where I taught Chavez a basic two-step. I spotted Billy with the town girl. Billy was dancing like a maniac, flapping his arms like a chicken and jumping about as though there were hot coals beneath his feet. After the fast song ended, the band struck up a slower tune. Unfortunately, Chavez wasn't much of a waltzer and kept treading on my feet. Doc was gliding across the dirt with a China girl I'd seen in Murphy's company.The Regulators managed to get through three-quarters of the evening before running into any trouble. Charley saw a fella named El Loco shove John when John got in his way. El Loco challenged Charley to a fight. El Loco took some heavy blows to his head, then Charley pushed him into a card table. Poker chips flew everywhere as El Loco crashed to the ground, inches away from the bonfire. And Charley? Not a single scratch on him; he wasn't even out of breath!"Pugilist," said Billy admiringly.Doc smiled. "Yeah, he's somethin', ain't he?""Happy New Year!" shouted the band leader suddenly.Men drew their guns and fired rounds into the air; firecrackers were set off under our feet. Horses all over the block were scared out of their wits.John checked his pocket watch. "Gentlemen, m'lady, I think we shall call this evening. Let's go home."As we rode across a prairie, the boys struck up a drunken, off-key rendition of "Auld Lang Syne." We were all laughing at nothing in particular, just savoring the fun we'd had at the dance. Suddenly, a turkey darted in front of us."Breakfast!" Charley yelled.The chase was on. We dug our heels into our horses, the boys’ guns at the ready. Billy hung back with John, but John must have told him to join us, because, two seconds later, I heard the hooves of Billy's palamino colt pounding behind me. Out of nowhere, a posse appeared on the ridge, guns leveled toward the cart. I tried to call out a warning to John, but the posse emptied their shotguns into his body before I got the words out. John crumpled to the ground, dead, so did the carthorse."You bastards!" screamed Billy, poising to shoot."No! There's too many!" said Doc. "Let's get Serena out of here!"I tried to turn Storm Cloud, but my hands were shaking too badly. Chavez, noticing my difficulties, borrowed a lasso from Charley, which he used to tie his saddlehorn to mine. I wanted to vomit, but knew I couldn't in front of the boys, not after how much I'd bragged about having a strong stomach. I was numb with disbelief. The man who'd become my second father was dead. Silent tears streamed down my face. Whoever murdered John would have hell to pay.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
There wasn’t a dry eye at John Tunstall’s funeral, even normally stoic Chavez was in tears. Afterwards, I hid in the study at the ranch with John's old books, trying to keep a grip on myself. Billy appeared, putting his fists on the desk and leaning close so nobody who happened to walk by could overhear him."J.P. Wilson is gonna deputize us in the morning." he said. "Then we're goin' after the men who killed John. Now, Dick says you ain't to have no part of this. I say different. If you wanna ride with us, just go right on ahead; I won't stop you. But there's just one thing. There ain't that many blue horses around, so you'd have to trade yours.""I can't do that. You know how much Storm Cloud means to me." I said. "Are you askin' Chavez to sell Sparks?"Billy arched an eyebrow. "You think I got a death wish?""And you sure as hell ain't partin' with Golden Boy," I said. "So Storm Cloud stays.""You'll be a sitting duck," Billy warned. "Everyone in the territory knows who that horse belongs to.""I'll take my chances," I said."Fine," Billy relented. "Meet us at the livery stables by dawn. Bring only what's important to you."I couldn't sleep that night, so I spent it packing for the journey. A few of John's books, my medicine pouch, an ample supply of bullets, an extra shirt, and some simple provisions. Too much weight might slow Storm Cloud down. I changed clothes so I would be indistinguishable from the men. I stood in front of the mirror and unsheathed Father’s hunting knife. I held it in my right hand, and I began to carefully saw through a chunk of hair I was holding in my left hand. It was growing lighter outside, so I abandoned my gentle approach and started to roughly hack off my hair.Once I had cut as much off as I dared, I returned the knife to my belt. I strapped on my six-shooter. I wasn't terribly skilled with a gun, but I knew I'd need it. I ran to the barn to saddle Storm Cloud. I mounted him and rode out, taking one last look at the ranch before I started for Lincoln. The boys were late, as usual, so I had to wait for them. The sun had almost fully risen by the time I saw the Regulators' horses approaching, Dick in the lead.Billy grinned as he dismounted. "Glad to see ya made it, 'Rena," he said.Dick turned, his eyes blazing. "What are you doing here?" he demanded. "I told you to stay home.""I never listen to you," I said."Yeah, well, this time you should have." said Dick. "This isn't your fight. Seekin' revenge is man's work.""And last time we checked, you ain't a man," piped up Dirty Steve.I glanced at the newest member of our group. "Why don't you ask Billy what I'm doing here?"That wiped the smirk off his face quick. He was, after all, the one who'd decided to undermine Dick's authority as foreman. Another argument broke out when J.P. Wilson arrived.“Come to see the boys off?” he asked me.Billy clapped me on the shoulder. “She’s come to ride with us, set things right.”“Hell, no!” J.P. cried. “I ain’t deputizing her.”“Is there anything official says a lady can’t be a special constable?” asked Billy.“Don’t need nothin’ official to say that this is a fargin’ bad idea,” Dick cut in.“Is there?” Billy demanded of J.P.“N-n-no,” J.P. stammered, “but it’d be most improper and highly irregular for a lady to—”“Ain’t nothin’ regular about what happened to John, either,” said Billy, taking a step closer to J.P.I found my voice. “Whether or not I’m an official constable, I’m going with them.”“Then they’ll have to arrest you,” said J.P., pointing at the others.“There’s somethin’ to me that don’t sit right about putting a lady in irons,” Billy said. “I’d look the other way. Wouldn’t you, boys?”I wouldn’t trust Dick or Dirty Steve as far as I could throw them, and Doc looked ready to protest. J.P. didn’t notice their expressions, just Billy’s hand as it drifted lazily toward his holster.“All right,” J.P. relented. “Let’s just get this over with before somebody sees us.”The mood became solemn as he opened the big barn doors. Inside the livery stables, we all piled our right hands on top of J.P.'s Bible and swore the oath of office. J.P. pinned tin stars to our coats, then we left to serve our first warrant."We're gonna ar-rest Henry Hill, doodah, doodah," Billy sang as we rode through the prairie. "We're gonna ar-rest Henry Hill, oh doodah day..."Dick rolled his eyes at Billy's childish behavior, but Charley and I thought the song was catchy and joined in. We kept singing it until we reached a saloon that looked like it had been constructed with too many boards and not enough nails. Clearly, it wasn't a place where you'd find too many upstanding citizens."Henry Hill's supposed to have been inside with a lady since noon," said Dick. "We'll show him the warrant and take him home. Hey, Billy, see if Hill's still there. If he is, bring him to us."Trusting Billy with our prisoner turned out to be a mistake. Less than five minutes later, we heard a shot coming from the direction of the outhouse, and Billy ran out so fast you'd have thought he was on fire."Bonney! You weren't supposed to smoke anybody!" Dick howled. "We got warrants; we're the law!"Several men burst out of the saloon, shooting at us. We fired back until they were all on the ground, then we took off. Nothing much was said between us until late that night. We were starting to bed down when Dick asked Billy why the hell he had shot Henry Hill."He resisted arrest by a sworn deputy of the law," said Billy. "I was in fear for my life, Dick."How much of that was true, I'll never know.Charley, shaking like a leaf, spoke up next. "What's gonna happen to us now?"I sighed. "I don't know. But I guaran-damn-tee ya it's not gonna be good."The following day, Doc went into town to buy a newspaper, which contained an article about the murder of Henry Hill. A miner had identified one of the shooters as William H. Bonney. It was just our luck someone knew Billy's real name. The article went on to say that Billy was captain of our deputized gang."You send a lamb to the slaughter and he walks out a king sheep," laughed Charley.“El Chivato. Billy the Kid, huh?” said Chavez, spinning his knife.This pissed Dick off to no end."You're mentioned too," Doc said to me."I am?" I said, dazed."'Much of the slaying not performed by the kid, Billy, was carried out by a young woman.'" Doc read. "'A saloon patron has identified the woman as one Ravishing Riddle, a former employee of L.G. Murphy. The voluptuous soiled dove--'""What?" I shrieked angrily.Doc ignored me and continued reading. "'The voluptuous soiled dove severely wounded many of Hill's partisans. Perhaps it is time to change her name from 'Ravishing' to 'Rampaging' Riddle. Riddle is believed to be the sweetheart of someone in the gang, perhaps even The Kid himself.'"I shook my head in utter disbelief. I wasn’t even sure where any of my bullets had ended up during the shootout with Henry Hill. I was no one's sweetheart and most certainly not Billy's. I have already explained my narrow escape from the life of a soiled dove. As for my new nickname, I thought at the time that Rampaging Riddle had a lovely ring to it.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
It was a while before any of Murphy's men finally tracked us down; the ones who did were a pair of geniuses named Morton and Baker. Morton was picking through horse dung with his bare hands when Chavez crept out of the bushes. He held his knife to Morton's throat while the rest of us rode out from our hiding places, guns cocked."Buenos dias, shitheads," greeted Dick."You killed Henry Hill and started a war," said Baker."You all started the damn war when you killed Mr. Tunstall," Dick argued."Just the same, there's still fifty or sixty men against your seven, not counting the girl," said Morton. "You won't win this."Brave words for a man being held at knifepoint."We're gonna bury you; you can believe that," said Billy."Quiet, Bonney!" Dick snapped. "We don’t need that kinda talk! The law don't talk like that.""The law don't kill innocent merchants neither, do it?" Steve pointed out."Let's take these son of a bitches to Capitan Mountain and blow their brains out," said Billy. "Whaddaya say, Steve?""Uh-huh," he chortled.McCloskey voiced the opinion that we shouldn't go toward Capitan because of Murphy watching the trail. “I think we should go straight through to Lincoln.”Something about his voice didn't sound quite right. Billy noticed it too. He advanced on McCloskey, who grew nervous and backed away."You're tryin' to steer us away from Capitan because you know your men, Murphy's men, are waitin' to jump us in Lincoln," Billy said angrily."What are you talkin' about? He's a Regulator," said Dick.“He used to ride with Murphy, that’s what he’s talkin’ about!” I said.“That was a long time ago!” Dick growled."He's a spy!" Billy yelled.“He's one of us. We made a pact, right, McCloskey?” asked Dick."Jesus, Billy." McCloskey put on a hurt face and offered his hand, awaiting an apology.Billy shook his hand, though he avoided looking at McCloskey. "Shit, I'm sorry."McCloskey shrugged. "Hey, we're all upset about John.""Sorry I didn't sniff you out sooner, you goddamn traitor."Billy put a hand inside his coat, where he'd hidden his pistol, and drew it. He shot McCloskey once in the head, spattering poor Doc with his blood."Billy!" bellowed Dick."Billy, what the hell? Jesus!" screeched Charley.Billy shot McCloskey in the gut; his body dropped into the river. Chavez threw his knife at Baker, who was trying to make an escape. A gun battle between our side and Morton ensued. Dick screamed at everyone to hold their fire, but he was drowned out by Dirty Steve's yells of encouragement. Morton, crippled by the bullet I'd put in his knee, tried to run. A blast from Dirty Steve, and Morton was dead."Court adjourned," Billy grinned."Moron!" Dick shouted, his face red. "You're outta line, you son of a bitch!""Richard, he was right," said Doc in a shaky voice. "McCloskey was actin' strange.""Oh God, Brady's gonna hang us for sure now," moaned Charley."What'll we do now, Dick?" asked Dirty Steve."Everybody close their fargin' lips for a goddamn second and let me think!" yelled Dick. After a moment, he said, "Everybody skin up the river. You." Dick rounded on Billy. "You better stop believin' newspapers. You ain't a captain and you sure as hell ain't no Robin Hood. And, Serena, you ain’t no Joan of Arc.""Whatever you say, Dick," Billy and I said together."Doc, get these idiots on their horses," Dick instructed.I strongly resented being called an idiot, but I didn't say anything. I didn't follow the boys up the river either. I stayed back and made a false trail for Murphy's boys. When I was finally satisfied that it looked authentic enough to deceive them, I rode past the river again, where McCloskey's body was still tangled in a tree branch. I thought briefly of giving him a proper burial, but McCloskey's turning out to be a traitor prevented me from doing so; the buzzards could get him for all I cared.I followed tracks on the river's edge until I caught sight of smoke on the horizon. The boys had already set up camp. Dick was cooking bacon over the fire and the others were relaxing on some rocks. I took my bedroll off my saddle and spread it out facing east so I wouldn't be cold in the morning; Billy had taught me that trick.I walked over to listen to Doc reading from the newspaper: “The young lad of lightning rapidity, iron nerve, and marvelous skill, apparently single-handedly took down Morton and Baker of the Murphy-Dolan faction, including a miraculous shot of fifty yards.’ There's a picture here. It says 'Billy the Kid' but it ain't Billy.”It certainly wasn’t; in fact, it was Dick.“This is bullshit,” Dick said, tossing the newspaper to the dirt. “Papers can’t get anything right.”Doc continued the article: “’The Kid, a left-hander, is tall…” (A very generous description) “…handsome, and unequaled in the elements that appeal to the holier emotions.’ Jesus Christ, this country needs a hero! ‘Advices report that Billy the Kid was once again accompanied in the killing by his buxom sweetheart Rampaging Riddle. She lured Morton and Baker to their deaths by enticing them close with her provocative clothing and sultry mannerisms—““The very idea!” I interrupted.“Once the trap was in place, she and Billy the Kid cut them down in cold blood. It has been said Rampaging Riddle and The Kid engaged in fiery, passionate acts after dispatching their victims.’”The boys all had a good chuckle about that. The paper went on to say that Murphy had hired John Kinney, a Civil War veteran turned notorious bounty hunter, to find us. Chavez, off in his own world as usual, was crouched on the ground, digging some roots up out of the snow."What the hell's he doin'?" Dick wondered.We found out late that night when we were all gathered around the fire. Chavez had mixed up some war paint; his face was black and white and now resembled a skull. The way he looked in the dark scared me some."We've come to a point where we are lost." Chavez declared. "When Indians are lost, we reach into the spirit world to find a way."I knew in a second where this was going. Chavez took a long drink of peyote from a tin cup."This is the way to the spirit road. We're lost right now, but I'll find us the way."Dirty Steve rolled his eyes. "All we need is some more of your red-ass Nah-vah-ho mambo-jahambo."One by one, everyone except Dick drank from the cup. Within an hour, the effects of the drug took hold. Chavez and I had taken peyote before during tribal rituals, so we were the closest thing to sober in the group. The others acted very silly. Doc sat in the weeds, mumbling to himself about butterflies and Murphy's China doll. Dirty Steve blasted away at nothing with his shotgun, all the while screaming, "DID YOU SEE THE SIZE OF THAT CHICKEN?""This is great..." said Charley dazedly, who seemed to be petting an invisible horse.Charley then vomited all over the ground. Dick called for us to saddle up. Dirty Steve screamed like someone had poked him with a cattle prod, but eventually joined us. Billy, who'd arranged a rather ugly wreath of thistles around his hat, mounted Golden Boy and ended up facing the wrong way. Later, we rode through an Indian village behind Chavez. Charley was singing a square-dance song at the top of his voice, not a care in world. Billy offered greetings to the locals, still riding backwards in the saddle. He slipped every once in a while, damn near falling on his fool head."Chavez, how come they ain't killin' us?" asked Charley.“’Cause we’re in the spirit world, asshole, they can’t see us,” Dirty Steve said gleefully.Once the effects had worn off, the boys slept for a long time. They woke up ash-faced and feeling sick, vowing they'd never ask the spirits for help again.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Shortly after the peyote fiasco, we reached a little town called Blazer's Mill. Chavez and I got off our horses to refill our canteens in a well. "So how are you holding up?" Chavez asked me."I'm fine." I shrugged."You don't look very well," Chavez observed. "I'm just a little tired," I assured him."I'm still worried about you," he said. "You're getting too thin.""How are you doing?" I asked. He'd been a lot quieter than usual for days, which told me something was bothering him. Chavez didn't answer my question, another sign that he was upset. I was about to ask him what was wrong when Billy, Dick, Doc, Dirty Steve, and Charley approached us. They seemed exhausted; even Billy looked like a whipped pup. Dick tossed a glance at the adobe building behind us, which, judging by the smell coming out of it, was a cantina. My mouth watered."Richard, can we please go inside?" asked Doc."No," Dick said firmly. "Look, I know we could all use a decent meal, but we also got everybody in the territory looking for us. It's too risky.""Ain't nobody else here," said Charley, pointing to the vacant hitching post beside the cantina."Besides, if I know Murphy's jackasses the way I think I do, they'll be halfway to Old Mexico before they realize they're ridin' a false trail," I pointed out."So that's where the hell you disappeared to yesterday," said Dick. "What were you thinking, Serena? Making a move like that is suicidal. You ain't got the sense God gave a mule."Chavez went for his knife handle. "Don't talk about her that way. Going off on her own may have been dangerous, but she'll never do it again." He turned to me. "Will you?"I shook my head. "I still ain't lettin' you outta my sight," muttered Dick."Can't we discuss this over supper?" demanded Doc, who hadn't shut up for a long time about how hungry he was.Dick relented and ordered us all to wash up. It was decided that Dirty Steve would eat up on a nearby hillside so he could keep a lookout. The rest of us seated ourselves around the tiny table in the cantina, where the special of the day was chicken. I chuckled, remembering Dirty Steve's peyote vision. Dick bowed his head and began to say grace."Lord, forgive us for our trespasses, our misguidance by heathen religions." He eyed Chavez, who proceeded to kick Dick under the table. Dick didn't seem to notice and continued the prayer. "Please help guide us in doin' the right thing."Billy, thinking the prayer was over, eagerly picked up his fork. Dick began to recite “Our Father.” Billy dropped his fork and glanced longingly at the chicken. "Please, Dick, it's gettin' cold," he begged.Dick didn't look up, so Billy went for his gun. Dick snapped out of his trance and drew his. Both pointed their weapons at the other's heart. Nonchalantly, Chavez reached between them and started to carve the chicken. He speared a very large piece with the tip of his knife and fed it to me."I coulda killed ya, Dick." said Billy, holding his gun steady. "I coulda killed ya. But I'm too hungry to kill you; I wanna eat.""When we finish this meal, you little rodent, we'll step out in the yard and see who has the right to run this group of regulators," Dick said fiercely.Doc tried to change the subject. "Richard, would you be so kind as to pass the gravy, please?"Dirty Steve burst in, saying there was someone headed our way. We looked out the window and saw Buckshot Roberts, a bounty hunter who, in Charley's words, "killed more people than smallpox."“We got a warrant for him,” said Dick.“You think he’s come to surrender?” asked Doc, who clearly hadn’t noticed that Roberts was armed.“Introduce us,” said Billy, forgetting his argument with Dick. We went outside. Roberts looked for all the world like a harmless old man, but we knew better. Dick tried to talk Roberts into giving himself up, but Roberts intended to collect the bounty placed on our heads."Let's dance," he said, pumping his shotgun.We ran like hell toward the woodpile. Someone screamed behind us. It was Chavez. A bullet pierced my arm and I went down, falling between two of the boys. Chavez was trying to hide the wound in his side; Doc had been shot in the hand."You missed, you little sons of bitches and dancehall whore!" Roberts taunted us."Billy, go in there and cut that son of a bitch in half," said Dick. Billy looked disbelieving that Dick actually wanted him to kill someone. "I'm darin' ya, Billy." Dick added.Billy would never back down from a dare, so he started to leave. A gunshot, then Billy crawled back behind the woodpile."Screw that!" he panted.Roberts stopped shooting at us, so Dick left to check it out. Gunshots erupted. I was on the ground, so I couldn't see what happened, but I knew what had. Roberts had killed Dick. Charley, the youngest of us, went to pieces."What are we gonna do?" he bawled. "Dick just got his guts blown out! He's our foreman!"Doc, with his gift for stating the obvious, said, "We better get the hell out of here."He and I supported Chavez and helped him onto Sparks Flying. Billy took over as foreman, riding ahead of us.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
We rode out of Blazer's Mill and found a somewhat sheltered place to camp. Doc remained on his horse as we all dismounted."Where to?" Billy asked."Patricio if it looks safe," Doc replied. "I gotta write Dick's mother in Vermont and get some clean wraps for my hand."It was an uncomfortable reminder that Dick had a family who cared what happened to him. The rest of us Regulators were runaways or orphans."Well, whatever you do, don't go near Lincoln," Billy cautioned.Doc's eyes widened as he noticed my blood-soaked sleeve for the first time. "Serena, you're hurt. You should come to Patricio with me. You need a doctor.""So does Chavez." My shoulder was nothing compared to his side.Doc shook his head. "He ain't my concern."I scowled. How could he treat a member of his own gang like that? "Either both of us go or I don't.""Suit yourself," said Doc, urging his horse forward."We'll ride into Lincoln when he gets back," Billy decided. "Sheriff Brady is in desperate need of bein' removed from office.""Dick said we can't touch the sheriff," said Charley."Dick ain't around anymore, is he, Charley?" Billy asked.Chavez argued against going after Brady too. He thought there was a pretty good chance of us all dying."Are you saying that Murphy taking inventory in Tunstall's store means nothin' to you?" Billy asked."Murphy and his politicians have taken more blood from me than they ever will from you," Chavez replied venomously."How do you figure?" Billy challenged."The Red Sand Creek Reservation."“What’s he talking about?” asked Billy.“I don’t know,” said Dirty Steve.I did, but it wasn’t my story to tell.Chavez took a deep breath. “207 people butchered in the snow with their stomachs empty. My mother’s people. Murphy & Company was under government contract to supply us with beef, and two winters ago, he sent only rotten meat. No corn, no flour, only rancid beef crawling with worms. So I went with a band in the night to a trader’s camp to try and get food. Oh yeah, they welcomed us in. And then they opened fire on us. I got away, only me. But when I got back to the Red Sands, I found that the Army had already heard about our big Indian uprising…and they paid us back.”I dropped my head so no one would see my tears as Chavez described exactly how his mother and baby sisters had been killed.Chavez’s voice grew steadily louder as he told the rest of the story. He was nearly crying himself as he screamed, “Everybody on my reservation was butchered and it means nothing to me?!”I hesitantly walked over to him and laid a gentle hand on his arm.“I went to Lincoln to take Murphy’s head.” Chavez was calmer now. “And that’s when John Tunstall found me…and he took me in. And he taught me a better way to bury Murphy.”“Murphy buried him the old Irish way, Chay-vez.” said Dirty Steve.“And he starved out your family,” added Billy. “He wants to do that to every small farmer in the territory. But if you wanna run, go ahead.” He shrugged. “Just go right on ahead. You got no loyalty, Navajo.”Chavez glared at him. "I don't know what your vision told you, but mine told me we're headed for blood. Blood like a river. If I die--and I'm not afraid to--the sacred hoop is broken. I have to go west to make my people live again." He started to get on Sparks Flying. "Charley, Serena, will you come with me?"Charley stood up. Billy and Dirty Steve looked on silently."You ain't sayin' much, Dirty Steve," Charley said."He ain't got much to say, Charley." said Billy.I had to bite my knuckle to avoid snickering at the truth of that statement."But ol’ Steve understands the meaning of the word 'pals.' If you got three or four good pals, why, then you got yourself a tribe. We're your family now, Chavez. You'll break our sacred hoop if you walk away from us. We gotta stick together, gents and lady. That’s the only way I see it.”“Billy’s right,” I said. “It’s a lot easier to catch one wild mustang than it is a herd.”Chavez took a few things from his saddle. “Serena, will you follow me?”We walked back into camp.“Can I take a look at your arm?” he asked.I pushed up my sleeve, revealing the neat hole just under my shoulder. Chavez poured some whiskey over the wound; it burned like hell."Would you like a drink?" Chavez asked, offering the bottle."No," I said.The whiskey smelled foul and it probably tasted even worse. Besides, I prefer to have my wits about me at all times."Are you sure?" he pressed, heating the blade of his knife over the campfire. "It'll be painful.""Just do it," I snapped. "I'm not scared."I took a deep breath as he moved closer and closer with the knife. I yelled when the blade dipped under my skin. The rest of the Regulators looked towards us; I fought to swallow my tears."It's all right to cry, querida," Chavez soothed.My heart thudded as I remembered that was Spanish for "darling!" Chavez jimmied the knife this way and that to dislodge the bullet; blood dripped down my arm. After what felt like an eternity, Chavez was holding the bullet up for me to see. I cleaned it off, thinking of making it into a necklace later. Chavez washed my arm with water from his canteen; I packed the hole with some nearby moss to prevent an infection."Thanks," I sniffed.Chavez tore one of the sleeves off the shirt he was wearing and used to it to bandage my arm. Though the bone wasn't broken, he knotted our bandannas together and fashioned a makeshift sling. He stroked my cheek; I smiled for the first time in ages. My happiness faded when I saw just how much blood was covering his shirt.“May I?” I asked.Chavez undid the buttons, revealing his smooth, brown torso. It only vaguely registered that this was the first time I had seen the bare chest of a man I had romantic feelings for. There was a gash across his left side, angry-looking but no longer bleeding; it seemed as though the bullet had just grazed him. I poured whiskey over the cut and Chavez gritted his teeth against the pain. I searched vainly for something I could use as a bandage.“I will be all right,” said Chavez, re-buttoning his shirt. "Are you hungry, querida?""You bet," I said. We never finished our meal at Blazer’s Mill.Chavez dug through his saddlebags. There wasn't a hell of a lot left to eat.He said, "Everything is yours."I offered to share the remainder of my provisions with him, but he wouldn't take it. "You need it more than I. Besides, I fight better on an empty stomach anyway."I finished off the food and leaned against Chavez. He wrapped his strong arms around me and kissed my hair. I was surprised by the gesture. Other than on the cheek by John or Alex, I had never been kissed by a man before.Billy sat down next to us. "How's your arm, ‘Rena?”"Fine. I just need to rest it for a few days." I replied.“Can you still fight?”“If I have to.” I said, wincing as my arm throbbed.“Good deal.” Billy patted my uninjured shoulder.To this day, I don’t know if I was imagining the jealous flash I saw in Chavez’s eyes. After a meager supper that night, Charley produced one of Doc’s many small notebooks. I don’t know how he’d come into possession of it, and it’s probably best that I don’t.“’The Bird, by Josiah G. Scurlock.’” As though none of us had figured it out already, Charley added, “That’s Doc. ‘Once upon a midnight dreary, as I pondered, weak and weary, there came a knocking at my…back porch.’” Charley frowned at the book. “Ain’t very original, is he?”I snorted. “Not hardly.”Once I had become reasonably accomplished at reading, John had challenged me with some Poe; it had been a bit morbid for my taste. Out in the desert on a bloody mission for vengeance, the irony of that opinion was not lost on me."He's been gone an awful long time," Charley said of Doc. "I reckon he'll be trying to make a run for it.""Who? Doc?" Billy grinned and shook his head. "Nah. Doc likes me."I knew Doc hated Billy, but I didn't say anything. I just lay back to go to sleep.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
"HEY, STEVE, DOC’S BACK!" Billy's yell stabbed me in the head at an ungodly hour of the morning. To someone else, presumably Charley, he gloated, "I told ya he'd come back." Then Billy hollered at the rest of us, "Regulators! Let's saddle up!" Grudgingly, I pushed myself up with my good hand. My injured arm didn't hurt quite so much anymore, so I took off my sling before starting to pack up. I unknotted Chavez's bandanna from mine and handed it back to him."No, you can keep that," he said. I put Storm Cloud's bridle on and swung myself into the saddle. Billy looked toward me from Golden Boy's back, his blue eyes glittering wickedly."Sheriff Brady, we're gonna have a lot of fun now." he said.Once we arrived in Lincoln, Billy went to look for the sheriff while the rest of us concealed ourselves behind buildings or fences. Sheriff Brady and a group of his flunkies strolled down the road, doing their best to look important. Behind them, Billy was merrily skipping along. Then Billy tossed his hat over the sheriff's head and it landed at Brady's feet. The hat toss was our cue. I stealthily crawled out from my hiding place, my pistol cocked just in case. "Top o' the mornin' to ya, girls," Billy adopted an Irish accent as he removed Brady's pistol from its holster. He shot the sheriff; the deputies were immediately after us. Chavez burst around the corner on Sparks and threw his knife at one of the deputies, hitting him in the throat. Charley and Steve were holding their own. They ran out of bullets at the same time and quickly fled the scene. Sheriff Brady reached for his rifle. Billy pinned the weapon under his boot."Reap the whirlwind, Sheriff Brady." said Billy, pointing the pistol at Brady's chest. "Reap it."We left the good sheriff lying on the street with a bullet in his heart. As always after a good battle, Billy was in high spirits. We went into a small shop in the next town, and Billy got a tintype of himself taken. When he was through, he persuaded me to have one done as well. I stepped in front of the camera and unholstered my six-shooter. I pulled my hat low over my face and raised the pistol.The next stop for us was the home of John's lawyer friend Alex, whom none of us had seen since John's funeral. We made ourselves comfortable on Alex's porch and Billy presented Alex with the tintypes. Alex ignored the gift."You weren't supposed to touch Brady!" he snapped."Brady sent the men who killed John. It was a good move for us," said Billy."It wasn't.""Yes, it was!" Billy argued."Have you seen The Independent? The governor’s revoked your all’s deputization powers. You're now wanted by the legitimate law as well as those outside the law. You're being hunted by Murphy’s men, John Kinney, and troops from Fort Stanton. The governor’s put a $200 bounty on your head, and he’ll give $150 for Serena’s."This was the first time I knew of an exact figure. The thought was somewhat thrilling but mostly terrifying. Truth be told, I had no idea things would go as far as they did.Alex got his breath back; asthma had temporarily stolen it away. "You were supposed to serve 11 warrants to expose The Ring. Instead, you went out and went on the warpath. Now Richard's dead and Susan and I are living like fugitives!" He pointed to me. "Serena, you have no business risking your life. If the boys have a death wish, so be it, but, by God, you are a lady--"I cut Alex off, not wanting to hear any more raving. "I ain't no gussied-up, pie making female. I've lived hard all my life, and I'm not about to stop 'cause of some tenderfoot lawyer.""Serena, please," said Doc. "Alex only wants what's best for you.""I'll decide what's best for me, Doc."Billy added, "They'll let Murphy and his bankers get away with anything, and I can't allow that. The more bastards I dust, the more news stories they write. The more troops they send after us, the more President Hayes is gonna have to raise an eyebrow. He’ll come down and see for himself what’s going on here, and he’ll find out who’s really been doin’ the killin’.”“What are you gonna do?” Doc asked Alex.“I’m gonna try to reach the President myself…legally. If I can’t, I’ll go back to Lincoln and reopen John’s store. That’s what John would want.” There was no arguing with that.“We’ll escort ya,” Billy offered.“You’d be a death sentence to anyone now, Billy. I don’t want your help.” Alex said coldly. He looked to me and added, “I could use some help getting the store going again. John always spoke highly of you being a pleasant girl and a hard worker. You could move in with Susan and me. Please. You were like a daughter to John, and my heart can’t bear it if something happens to you, too.”I bit my lip. “Alex, I can’t. If Billy’s a death sentence, then so am I. I’m safer with the boys.”“We’ll take good care of her, Alex,” Doc promised.Billy added, “You didn't see what they did to John. We did. We all did. Like it or not, Alex, 'Rena's one of us." He pulled the tin star off his shirt and tossed it on the ground. "Let's ride."Charley, Steve, Chavez, and I followed suit. Doc seemed reluctant to leave. He talked with Alex for a short time, then we left.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
"So what the hell's the matter with him?" Billy snapped at Dirty Steve.Charley was paler than usual and nervous as a long-tailed cat in a roomful of rocking chairs."I don't know." Dirty Steve replied. "He's just bellyaching about somethin' or another. Doc was readin' to us from the paper and he got mighty spooked.""Ah, damn it," Billy muttered.Charley had frequently gone to pieces during our journey; it was probable he was losing his nerve and wanted to run."Steven told Charley about the party Sheriff Peppin is planning in our honor," Doc explained, joining us.Billy frowned as though he were trying to remember something. "Party...?" His face suddenly lit up. "Oh, you must mean the hangin'.""Callate, chivato," Chavez warned."Goddamn it, Billy! You ever seen a man hanged?" asked Charley. “His face turns flat purple and his eyes come up on him.”"I seen Red Smitty hang. His head come clean off." Billy chuckled. "It was a hell of a sight."I glared at him. He was not helping matters."I don't think Charley wants to hear about Red Smitty. I think he'd prefer to hear that we're not going to hang." said Doc peevishly.“Ya mess your trousers, they say. Gals watchin’ and everything,” Charley went on.Dirty Steve rubbed uncomfortably at his neck. I’m not sure if he was imagining a rope around it or if Charley’s detailed picture was causing him to consider things he hadn’t previously thought about."Well, if we get caught, we're gonna hang," said Billy.Charley went white as a sheet."But there's many a slip twixt a cup and a lip." Billy added.We allowed ourselves a grin. That had been one of John's favorite sayings."You gotta let me do somethin' before they catch us," Charley said quietly.We all got on our horses and followed Charley's lead. We eventually stopped at a mostly Mexican town. Charley looked toward the saloon."Damn, Charley, this is your last wish?" said Dirty Steve. "Get yer little carrot wet? You coulda found a whore in Juarez.""It's somethin’ called a special woman, Dirt Face," said Doc. "You'll understand that one day, and you shouldn’t talk about such things in front of a lady.”I waited for Steve to make a snide comment about me not qualifying as a lady, but he controlled himself. We lined up at the door of the saloon. I'd vowed never to set foot in one again after I left Murphy's, but I didn't like the idea of standing outside and waiting. God only knew how long the boys would want to stay; they hadn't seen a woman other than me in weeks."Square up and shell out for Bowdre," said Billy, dropping a coin in Charley's outstretched hand. "We'll be in the den. Yell if you need a hand." He laughed heartily at his own joke.The other boys handed Charley some of their money. Last in line was me. I laid a hand on Charley's shoulder. His brown eyes gazed pleadingly into my face. I shook my head. I might have been Charley's pal, but that didn't mean I was willing to finance his first whore. Waste of money is what it was. What the boys were putting into debauchery could have fed us for at least a week.As I entered the saloon, familiar odors stung my nostrils: whiskey, lilac perfume, cigar smoke, and sweaty men. Not a pleasant combination in the least. I sat down in one of the rickety chairs and propped my feet up on the table. A man with long bushy hair was saying to the bartender, "If Billy the Kid's man enough to come around here, he and his lady friend are two hundred dollars flat dead on this bar.""You can't kill what you can't catch," the Mexican barmaid pointed out. “These mestizos, they say that Billito is half-horse, half-devil. But who knows? Maybe a big, strong Texas man like you can do it.”Billy approached the man. "Are you really gonna kill Billy the Kid and Rampaging Riddle?" He pointed to the pearl-handle in the man's holster. "You gonna shoot ‘em down with that gun? Can I touch it? I'd love to touch the gun that'll kill Billy the Kid."The man held it out. "You know iron, boy? Have a look. But make sure to give it back. That there gun killed Ed Rollins.""Bullshit," Billy mouthed at us. To the man, he said, "I'm leavin' now, and I wanna know what to look for. I'll come back and tell ya if I see him.""Well, he's a good-lookin' kid, dresses like a dandy. He's got a way with the women and he's a left-hander. And people say he’s fond of whistlin’ sad ballads. You get out there on the street and you see anybody that fits that bill, you just come whispering to me.”"And the girl?" asked Billy."The most drop-dead gorgeous woman you'll ever see. Giant bosoms, thin as a toothpick, and big blue eyes. Always wears a dress that just barely covers her up. And when The Kid takes to whistlin’, she sings along in the sweetest voice you ever heard.”I rolled my eyes. The only thing the man had gotten right was that I was skinny and had blue eyes. Well-endowed I wasn't, which was to my advantage when it came to blending in.Billy looked in the mirror over the bar and shouted, "I see him!" He pointed at his own reflection."I'm gettin' a little tired of your wise lip," said the long-haired man. "Get yourself someplace else before I drop your britches in front of all these fine ladies and spank your little bottom blue."Billy began to whistle "Dixie." He looked meaningfully toward me to start singing. I kept my mouth firmly shut; I wasn't about to flirt with danger in that manner."You are a testy little cuss." the man growled.Those were the last words he ever spoke. Billy shot him, and the man fell to the floor. I found out later that his name was Texas Joe, and he was a bounty hunter.“How many’s that make, Doc?” he asked. “Twenty-five?”Doc held up five fingers."We'll call it ten," said Billy. "Ten even."Just then, Charley appeared in the den. "It's John Kinney!" he yelled, panicked.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
"Hyah! Hyah!" I urged Storm Cloud, squeezing his sides with my legs.I stood almost completely up in the stirrups so as to avoid bouncing in the saddle. I gripped the reins so hard my knuckles turned white."Sorry, boy," I apologized as I inadvertantly dug the bit into his mouth."Billy, they're gaining on us!" Charley wailed."Any bright ideas?" I called to Billy as Storm Cloud drew level with Golden Boy."One," Billy replied.He turned Golden Boy sharply to the right. Our horses cantered down a slight hill, straight into a grove of thorn trees. I slowed Storm down and bent as low as the saddlehorn would permit. Thorns caught on my coat and hair and sliced into my face. I could hear the boys cursing and screaming behind me. We followed the path and ended up in a muddy creek."Where are they?" we heard John Kinney bellow in frustration.Billy laughed his crazy laugh, absolutely drunk on having outfoxed the great bounty hunter John Kinney.We rode all through the night and stopped near a place where there was a natural spring. Doc and Dirty Steve stripped down to bathe; I buried my nose in John's copy of Robin Hood, having no desire to see either of them in the nude."Shit, I think I got thorns in my ass," whined Charley."Chavez, can you use your knife to pull those things out?" Billy asked.Charley reluctantly pulled down his trousers and took a long drink of whiskey for courage. "Shit!" he yelped, hopping up and down as Chavez's knife carved out the first thorn."I know, I know. It breaks my heart too," said Chavez. (Charley somehow missed the sarcasm).Billy took out a copy of a five-cent book he'd bought, entitled The Adventures of Billy the Kid, and began to read aloud to us: "'His hat, covered with gold and jewels, sparkled in a dazzling and blinding manner when one looked upon it. The shoes worn by this left-handed prince of the plains had patent-silver spurs in the heels.'” He frowned at the pages. “I ain’t left-handed." Billy strode over to me and showed me one of the illustrations. "And that don't even look like me."I closed my book and squinted at the page. "Hey, you're right. Much too tall."Billy lightly smacked me over the head with the book. I retaliated. Billy winced, for Robin Hood was much thicker than the dime novel he was holding.Doc interrupted us by saying, "Billy, I've thought about our course. It looks like we’ve just done a big circle twice. And it also looks like we're heading back to Lincoln, which I know we can't be--"Billy cut Doc off. "We are."For once, Dirty Steve showed presence of mind. "That ain't a good idea.""Christ in heaven, Billy, what are you thinking?" Doc asked.“Billy, we’re lucky to all be alive,” said Charley.“Lincoln’s where we’ll find the rest of the men who killed John,” Billy reminded us.“But it’s a hundred against six,” Doc argued.Billy adopted a mocking tone. “It’s a hundred against six. If we take Murphy, The Ring will fall, and we'll win this war.""It's not just a hundred men." said Chavez, looking up from treating Charley. "There's bounty hunters too, everywhere we go. But not west."Billy rolled his eyes. "Oh Christ. Here we go again.""I followed you!" Chavez said sharply. "I chose your way, Chivato, but I don't trust it anymore. California’s where we have to go.”“Dang on the money!” Charley said enthusiastically. “I believe in that spirit world stuff, Chavez. Let’s go.”“California doesn’t sound so bad to me either,” I admitted."You're all scared," said Billy. "You're gonna fail the test. You have to test yourself every day. Once you stop testin' yourself, you get slow. And when that happens, they kill you.""Did your family raise racehorses by any chance?" I asked of that logic.Billy acted as though he didn't hear me. "You don't feel that when John Kinney's ridin' up on our ass? How the balls are flying and the blood goes right to your head? Boom!" Billy fired his pistol at nothing and laughed. "It's quite a sensation.""I bet it is," Doc grumbled. "I bet in your mind, you hear angels sing a fargin' hymn. I shit in my damned britches!" Dirty Steve jumped; Doc was yelling right in his ear. "We've taken enough Murphy scalps! We cannot win this war, not with six of us. If you wanna keep on testing yourself, fine. But I'm riding to the border tonight. I'll get a hot meal and a good night's sleep. Come morning, I'm a Mexican.""Yeah, me too," Charley agreed."Mexico, huh?" Billy asked.Doc and Charley nodded."Y'all are testin' yourselves and you don't even know it. Tryin' to make it to Old Mexico. That's a hoot.”“What do you mean?” asked Doc.Billy gleefully listed off the dangers: “John Kinney'll be coverin' every possible which-way in from Texas to Arizona. It's a full day's ride through them thorns we all love so much, which also makes a good hiding place for scalp-huntin' renegade Indians. The chances of makin' it to Old Mexico...hell, it's the test of all tests if you ask me. I'm in.""I'm really not liking him," muttered Doc.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
About two days later, we reached the little border town of Juarez. A woman grinding corn spotted us and called toward the nearest house, "Mira! Mira! El Chivato! El Chivato! El Chivato y Furioso Criba!"Townspeople began to flood into the square, chanting our names over and over again. I grinned and sat up a little straighter in the saddle. The children gaped at Storm Cloud. It was doubtful they'd ever seen a horse like him before."Hola. Como estas?" said Billy, tipping his hat to some of the ladies.The girls giggled and blushed in response. Some men hauled buckets of water out to our horses, who buried their noses in them at once. I glanced back at the other members of our gang, who looked confused. They were used to being welcomed into town with bullets and death threats; these people were treating us like heroes.Children swarmed Billy and I, chattering rapidly in Spanish. The gist of it was they wanted to ride our horses. I didn't see harm in leading each of them around a few times, so I lifted the first child who'd asked onto Storm's back. The kids bubbled with joy, unable to believe they were riding a horse that belonged to a real live outlaw. After the kids were through, the men tied our horses to the hitching post at the cantina and pressed bottles of tequila and whiskey on us. I decided the thing I wanted most was a hot bath and set off to find one. A hand shot out of a rickety wooden building to grab my wrist. A Mexican woman pulled me inside the place, where a tub of hot water was already waiting."Mirada al estado usted; usted es asqueroso," she fussed. "Debo limpiarle antes de que la fiesta comience." (Look at the state of you; you're filthy. I must clean you up before the fiesta begins).The woman practically tore my clothes off and shoved me into the tub. She bustled off and returned with a dress in her arms. It was of traditional Mexican style with short, puffy sleeves and long, full skirt. I thanked her warmly. She told me her name was Manuela, left a towel and a cake of soap with me, and exited the building.I rubbed my arms vigorously with the soap, nearly taking skin off in places. Then I leaned back in the tub to relax. The hot water soothed my muscles, which were aching from endless days of riding. I dozed off briefly before the sound of splashing woke me up. Suddenly, I heard Billy's voice. "You comfy in there, 'Rena?"I gasped and yanked the towel so it covered the tub, making sure Billy couldn't see anything but my head. Billy was sitting in a bathtub next door to mine, totally naked and not caring if I saw everything he owned. I fought to keep my face straight and eyes on his. Doc was there too for reasons unknown.Billy turned to Doc and began dictating a letter to Governor Axtell:“I have heard that you will give $200 for my head and $150 for the head of my sweetheart.” I was a little annoyed about Billy playing into that. “Perhaps we should all meet and talk. We are at the Juarez village at the border. Send three men and instruct them not to shoot, as we are unarmed. In short, sir, we surrender. Your obedient servant, William H. Bonney.”Satisfied he wouldn't bother me, I removed the towel and applied the soap to my hair.“Add a P.S.,” Billy instructed Doc. “Kiss my ass.”I ducked under the water to rinse. I came up for air just as the door banged open."Charley's gettin' married!" Dirty Steve yelled.Billy jumped out of the tub in surprise and I was treated to the sight of his bare backside. Then Dirty Steve glanced to his left."Hot damn, Billy!" he crowed "Is 'Rena naked?"Billy walked in front of Steve to block his view. Chavez crept behind and held a knife to Steve's throat."You need to treat this lady with respect. She's not some whore you can have your way with. Now I would appreciate it if you would leave and give her some privacy."Once all the men were gone, I hurriedly got out of the tub and put on the borrowed dress. I toweled my hair dry and combed it. I snatched two small pieces of leather I found on the floor so I could braid my hair once it dried.As I walked through the town, I passed by Steve, who was drinking from a bottle of whiskey next to a pair of mules. Chavez seemed to be chewing him out. I wondered why Steve was still smiling. If Chavez had been lookin' at me that way, I'd've been running in the opposite direction. Chavez stomped off, quietly pissed, but brightened suddenly as he saw me."That dress looks nice on you, Querida. Brings out those pretty blue eyes."I blushed; I've never taken compliments well. Chavez took the leather strips from me and began to braid my hair with exquisite care. When I asked how he became so skilled at it, he said, "I was my mother's only son. Five sisters."We talked for a long time afterwards. Once I had a braid on either side of my face, I excused myself. I loved talking with Chavez, but I was desperate to find food. I looked around for anything resembling a cantina or eating house, then noticed the streets of town were deserted. Men in sombreros were napping on doorsteps and outside buildings. I found Billy, clothed again (thank God), in the shadiest spot in the square, his hat low over his face. He seemed to be nodding off against the wall behind him."What's going on?" I asked."Siesta. Damn, I love these border towns," said Billy."Siesta?" I repeated. "Just fargin' perfect.""Take it you're hungry?" Billy said lightly. He produced a small paper bag from behind his back. "Here. Have one of these."I tentatively reached into the bag, which was oddly damp. My fingers closed on a small, round object. I withdrew my hand. A pink gumball. Leave it to Billy to keep sweets in his saddlebag. I popped it in my mouth and immediately noticed an odd, bitter flavor. I slowly sucked on the gum; the sugar coating burned as I swallowed. I spit the gumball onto the ground, making a face.Billy grinned devilishly. "Sorry. Forgot to tell ya. My whiskey bottle sorta broke in my bags."Church bells began to peal, signaling the start of Charley's wedding. The Regulators, townspeople, and I gathered in front of the church. Charley's bride Manuela was wearing a dress that looked like a set of lace drapes (which, I reminded myself, it probably was). I recognized her as the girl who'd set up my bath and loaned me the dress I now wore.The ceremony, which I'd assumed would be simple, dragged on and on. Dirty Steve fell into a stupor. I kept my arms folded tightly over my stomach, hoping that nobody else would hear how loudly it was growling. The assembled crowd cheered as Charley kissed the bride. Now it was time for the fiesta! I immediately headed for the buffet table, which was laden with delicious Mexican dishes, plus ample amounts of sangria and tequila. Charley appeared at my elbow and downed a shot of tequila."You reckon anybody heard?" he asked nervously. "My damn belly started rumblin' like a canyon rockslide when that preacher man was tryin' to read us our vows. Nobody heard it, did they, 'Rena?"Truthfully, I had heard it throughout the entire ceremony. But, not wanting to spoil Charley's big day, I shook my head. Manuela grasped his hand and the two of them cut the enormous wedding cake. A mariachi band started to play cheerful tunes. Charley's eyes were alight with happiness as he danced with Manuela. Steve paused dancing with Manuela's mother to spit his tobacco out. How pleasant. Chavez held one of Manuela's younger sisters in his arms, gracefully weaving through the other couples."This," Billy said thickly, "is terrific cake. Hell of a party too." He noticed my eyes on the other couples. "Would you like to have this dance?"Billy's hand was sticky, but I took it. He knew the Spanish style of dance quite well. I took it he was no stranger to border towns. Chavez stopped dead and stared at us. Gently, he put down Manuela's sister, walked over to us, and announced he was cutting in. Billy reluctantly let go of me and Chavez swept me into his arms. His grip was firm, but not overly restrictive. He smelled nice, very clean.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
We'd begun a lively dance when a gunshot rang out. The band stopped playing; the other couples stopped dancing. "REGULATORS!" Billy's voice boomed. "Let's mount up."I wondered what had happened now. Manuela began to weep, desperately clutching at Charley's vest. Doc told Charley he should stay with his new wife."You can't shoot worth a piss anyhow," added Billy. "Besides, your girl's cryin' and she's really givin' me a headache." Charley stroked Manuela's face and kissed her tenderly. He jumped onto the back of his chestnut mare. Manuela collapsed into the arms of her mother, sobbing like mad. Charley looked wistfully over his shoulder, probably thinking of the wedding night bliss that had been taken from him. "It ain't easy havin' pals," said Charley.With assistance from Chavez, I pulled myself aboard Storm Cloud. We pounded away into the night. Billy told us that Pat Garrett was planning to kill Alex and Susan McSween. We only had 'til suppertime the next day to reach Lincoln and warn them. Lincoln's a hell of a ride from Juarez, but we never stopped. Time was too precious. Our horses were half-lame by the time we reached our destination. We breathed a collective sigh of relief as we realized we were hours ahead of schedule. "Alex!" Billy screamed as we barged in the house without knocking. Alex, working at his desk, nearly jumped out of his skin when he heard footsteps and saw six Winchester rifles being pointed at him. “What in the name of—“ "They're gonna come and kill you," Billy panted."Damn it, Billy. I told you not to come here," said Alex."Ain't safe to stay here. They're gonna kill you, and then I'm gonna have to go around killing all the guys who killed you. And that's a lot of killin'.""I'm not leaving my house." Alex insisted stubbornly."We can't just stay here and hope the good Lord saves us from an all-out--" Susan started."Susan, I'm sick," wheezed Alex. "I can't go to Old Mexico."Doc hastily yanked the curtains over the window. "Don't fret, Alex. The trip's postponed. Murphy's boys are comin' around the front."In addition, the boys called out that Sheriff Peppin and John Kinney were present."I think the word you got was just a trap to get us all together in the same place. They must figure they can end the war in one fell swoop," said Alex. "My God. It's gonna be a massacre." He turned to me. "It's not too late to save yourself, Serena. Run."I shook my head. No fargin' way. I didn't come this far to let the boys down.“It’s John Kinney!” Charley whimpered.“Thank you very much, Charley!” Doc called back, annoyed.Billy's arm pressed across my chest. “Get your back up against somethin' solid," he advised. “We’re gonna show these guys they’ve finally met their match.”I leaned on the wall adjacent to the living room window.“Hey, Peppin!” called Billy. “I’m hearin’ ya, Bonney!” the sheriff called back.“I see ya got Charlie Crawford down there with ya!” The sheriff confirmed. Billy fired a shot out the window. “Hey, Peppin! Charlie Crawford ain’t with ya anymore!” The world became a blur: pottery breaking, Susan yelling in terror, the sound of ceaseless gunfire. I thought the Murphy boys would never run out of bullets, but they must have after a while because they stopped shooting at us.Billy took advantage of this to rally his troops: "Charley, take two rifles and go upstairs. Doc, you're going with him. Load heavy. Steve'll cover the north side. 'Rena, you and Chavez take east and west. Don't matter which of ya goes where.""We know you can shoot, Bonney!" Sheriff Peppin called from outside. "We can too. Give it up!"The way things turned out, we didn't need to start shooting right away when we hit the attic. Murphy's boys had to wait until the next morning for more supplies, so they set up camp in the town square. Billy didn’t assign any of us to take a particular guard shift; it wouldn’t have done any good anyway because none of us had pocket watches, and all of us were too on edge to sleep. Charley tried to in an old rocking chair, but he jerked at the smallest noises. I sat next to Chavez, resting my head on his shoulder. I must have dozed off, because next thing I knew, it was morning. We looked out the window and saw the cavalry approaching on horseback."They sent in the troops." Billy chuckled. "I like these odds.""Billy, I know we're good, but this is getting ridiculous." said Doc nervously.For once, he was right. I gripped my rifle tighter, my heart beating out of control. How the hell were we going to get out of this one? I spotted Murphy in his carriage with a pretty Oriental woman. When Murphy began to talk to one of the cavalry soldiers, the girl made a break for it."Soldiers, stop her!" Murphy yelled. "China! China! Get back here!""Yen, come up here!" Doc called to the girl. He handed his rifle to Billy and said, "Cover me." Billy shot towards a pair of soldiers who'd been approaching the house."There you go, Colonel!" Murphy said triumphantly. "Your troops have been fired on. You're in the right now." He bustled off down the street, dragging the bewildered colonel with him. "Burn it!" he yelled in the man's face.Charley began to sob. “I gotta go. Please. I gotta go. I gotta wife, I gotta wife. She’s this little Mexican gal.”"Charley, if you don't stand up and start whoopin' some ass, you ain't never gonna see her again," said Billy.Yen, the China girl, stood by the stair railing, holding onto Doc. My nostrils filled with the smell of smoke.“They lit it, boys,” said Dirty Steve unhelpfully. “They lit the house.” Billy and Charley didn’t seem to hear this. Charley was fumbling to reload his rifle, shells clattering to the floor. “Mr. Bonney, Mr. McSween, this is Colonel Nathan Dudley out of Fort Stanton!” a man shouted. “Come out with your hands high!”“I better reason with him,” said Billy, who was lying on the floor just under a windowsill. “Hey, Colonel Shithead! You can kiss my ass! You get President Hayes down here, then we’ll come out!” To us, he added, “We’ll see how they like that one.”The cavalry did not take too kindly to Billy’s words, and unleashed another barrage of bullets. Something seemed to snap in Charley. His hands were shaking, but he no longer seemed afraid.“Hey, Kinney, you bastard! I’m gonna shoot your ass!” he threatened.“Yeah, Charley!” Billy encouraged.Charley began to shoot out the window and yell insults down to the soldiers. He also screamed the word “maniac” repeatedly. Billy joined in, and soon the two of them were having a grand time. I raised my own rifle to fire at Sheriff Peppin, but a sudden cloud of smoke engulfed me. I dropped to the floor and started coughing harshly. I could feel the heat from the flames as they grew. This was getting dangerous."Alex, get Susan out of here," Doc ordered.“There’s a woman coming out!” Alex shouted to the soldiers. “Let my wife come out!”Colonel Stanton ordered his troops to cease fire. Alex took Susan by the arm and walked her to the back staircase. “No, I want my things!” Susan protested, struggling and screaming far more dramatically than the situation strictly called for. Alex had to pick her up bodily to get her to go downstairs. We started to toss chests and armloads of books out the window after her. Doc tried to get Yen to leave, but she just clutched onto his vest tighter."Where's Chavez?" Dirty Steve asked suddenly. "Where the hell's Chavez?""I don't know," I coughed, my eyes watering."What?""He’s gone! He must've skinned out!" Charley said angrily.Dirty Steve exploded. "That dirty Mexican dog! I knew we shouldn't have trusted him! I knew it! I knew it! We're gonna die in here and he's out there doin' it with his horse!" Steve began to knock things over and smack chests with the butt of his rifle. "I KNEW IT! I JUST KNEW IT!" he bellowed.I winced as the sounds of mass destruction continued. Boiling rage filled me. How could the man who'd shared his last scraps of food with me and acted as my protector suddenly turn tail and run? I'd have expected that from Charley, who often panicked at the first hint of battle. Billy laid a hand on Steve's arm to stop him from throwing a particularly large sea chest through the window. "I got an idea," he said, his blue eyes glittering.He took the quilt out of the chest and crawled in it himself. It was an almost perfect fit. He readied his pistols."Okay, here's the plan." he said in a low voice. "Shut the lid and toss me out the window.""Are you fargin' insane?" I asked him disbelievingly."Then I'll pop out and hold off Murphy's men while the rest of you make a break for it." "There must be another way," said Doc. "You got any better suggestions, Scurlock?" Billy snapped.Doc didn't answer. I lowered the chest's lid into place. This was without doubt the stupidest thing we'd ever done, but stupid plans have a way of working sometimes. I grasped the handle of the trunk, but could hardly raise one end. Jesus, Billy was heavier than I thought. Charley and Steve helped me heave the trunk out the window. It bounced once and landed upright. Billy burst out like a crazed jack-in-the box. Doc and Yen raced for the stairs; the rest of us followed close behind. Lead zipped past me as I lit up the square with my pearl handles; I imagine I was quite a sight in my borrowed Mexican dress, now torn and spotted with soot. A figure on horseback charged toward us, towing three other horses."Chavez!" I bellowed happily."Regulators!" he cried.Steve's jaw dropped as he realized Chavez hadn't abandoned us; he was getting transportation. I reminded myself to thank Chavez if the two of us were alive and reasonably intact at the end of the day. I heard a deafening roar and saw the Army firing a Gatling gun toward the house. Alex, his body riddled with bullets, died on his front lawn. He was a good man, hadn’t fired a shot in the war, and it made me sick to my stomach that he was slaughtered like livestock.I turned just in time to see Charley finish off John Kinney, and an eerie calm settled over me. A bullet slammed into Chavez's side, knocking him off his horse. Steve helped him back on, which surprised the hell out of me; the two of them hated each other on principle. Less than a second later, Steve was dead. I heard an animalistic cry of pain. Billy had been shot in each shoulder and hit in the gut at least once. I mounted the last remaining horse while Billy rode over to confront Murphy. "Reap it, Murphy, you son of a bitch," he said as he pulled the trigger, nailing Murphy between the eyes. Billy nodded to us. "Now it's over." he said calmly.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
The boys and I rode out of Lincoln as quickly as possible, stopping in a large field once we were fairly sure we weren't being followed. Billy was almost doubled over in the saddle, his white shirt growing redder every second. He was breathing hard and I could tell he was trying not to cry."I'm all right." he tried to reassure us. He grinned at me. "I've gotten worse bellyaches from your cooking." I scowled. "That's not funny."I glanced over at Charley, who had calmed immeasurably. He turned his horse to the south. “I’m going back to Juarez. I gotta get back to Manuela. We never even had our wedding night.”We wished him well. Then Doc announced he was taking Yen back east. "Where are you going?" Doc asked Billy."I’m gonna lay low for a while. Silver City, Albuquerque, Fort Sumner maybe.""You're staying here?" said Chavez. "That's not a smart choice, Chivato. The rest of the Murphy men will hang you if they find you.""They can't hang me if they don't find me," Billy pointed out. "I'm not leavin' here. New Mexico's my home." He sat quietly for a moment, a soft breeze ruffled our hair. "'Rena, do you know you're bleeding?"Some of the bullets Murphy's boys fired had grazed me. I was damn lucky not to be hurt worse."I wish ya luck, wherever you're gonna go, Chavez," said Billy, preparing to turn his horse. "You take care of yourself, too, 'Rena." He grinned proudly. "Never met a gal who can fight like you.""May the Great Spirit protect you, Chivato." Chavez said seriously. I knew what he must be thinking, that Billy might not make it considering how badly he was hurt. I had had the same thought myself. I couldn't understand why Billy wouldn't let me dress his wounds, but he was stubborn as they come. Billy rode away, leaving Chavez and I alone."Where you headed?" I asked."California. Like I said before." he replied.Without thinking, I blurted, "Take me with you."I mentally shook myself. Why the hell had I said that?Chavez looked somver. "My life will be too unpredictable for some time, Querida, and I love you too much to allow you to risk yours any further." I blinked, taken aback. Chavez laid his hand on mine. “But I promise you one thing: Someday, when the time is right, I'll come back for you, and we can make a long life together.""I-I love you...too," I stammered, not knowing what else to say.We hugged the best we could with both of us on horseback, and I watched as he rode off toward the west. Now I had a hell of a problem. I never expected to live through the Lincoln County War, so I hadn't made any plans for later. I swallowed my tears and tried to think coherently. Trying to settle in a town somewhere was ludicrous; I was too well-known. The only other option I had was to ride to my former home, Warm Springs Reservation. If I arrived and nothing was left of it, well, I was truly screwed.I rode until it was almost dark and reached a small town. I was hungry and thirsty, but had too much pride to start knocking on strangers' doors. Besides, with my luck, the owner of the house would recognize me as Rampaging Riddle and take a poke at collecting the price on my head. I slept in the desert that night, keeping one eye open in case I was attacked.Midday, I reached the rock formations I knew to border our burial ground. I turned the stolen horse loose and began the hike to the village. The men posing as sentries glowered at me suspiciously. I doubted they remembered who I was, since they hadn't seen me in four years. My God, had it been that long? I walked through the village. Usually at this time of day, the people would be out enjoying the sunshine: women grinding corn or weaving, men racing their war ponies, small children getting under everyone's feet. The village of the present was ominously silent, not so much as a scrawny coydog prowled the area. I reached the outskirts of the village and spotted the wikiup I had once shared with Father. I cautiously pushed back the flap and stuck my head inside. A man knelt on a woven mat with his back to me, intent on whatever he was doing. His black hair was streaked haphazardly with gray, but I knew from the build that it was indeed Father. I knew he would ask why I came back to Warm Springs. I couldn’t face telling him that I had almost been forced to be a soiled dove, that events over the past several months had resulted in his only child becoming a wanted outlaw. Father hadn’t heard me enter, so I backed away.I sat down on the ground outside, pulled my knees to my chest, and began to sob and wail. Everything that had happened since New Year’s Day hit me all at once. I cried for John, Alex (who had been innocent in all this), Dirty Steve’s selfless sacrifice to save Chavez, and the guilt I now carried for taking several men’s lives. I heard Father come out of the wikiup. When he saw me, his rheumy eyes glimmered."Ayasha!" he exclaimed."Father!" I cried.He wrapped his arms around me and pulled me close. I closed my eyes, breathing in the sweet, forgotten odor of sage and sweetgrass. We broke apart. Father took my face in his hands, as though to make sure it was truly me."I'm home," I whispered to him as tears, this time of joy, streamed down my face.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
I quickly settled back into reservation life, becoming an apprentice to my father. I anxiously waited for any word from Chavez. Even as the seasons changed without so much as a telegram, I never gave up hope. It wasn't in Chavez's nature to go back on his word, so I trusted him completely.The rest of 1878 passed fairly uneventfully. But as 1879 began, troubling rumors reached my ears. Governor Axtell had been forced to resign by President Hayes, replaced by Lew Wallace. Wallace's intention was to bring all parties who'd so much as fired a shot during the Lincoln County War to the New Mexico Territory and try the individuals for their crimes. Upon hearing this, I decided to be a hell of a lot more careful about setting foot outside tribal lands.Another rumor passed to me through the Indian communication system (which was a hell of a lot more efficient than the Pony Express): Billy the Kid was still running wild through New Mexico. The law couldn't seem to track him down, so the bounty had been increased to a thousand dollars. With such a hefty price tag, Billy had to be running out of places to hide. I wondered how long it would take for him to seek refuge in Warm Springs; no white lawman would think to look here.Our paths wouldn't cross again until midwinter. One morning, I was shaken awake earlier than I would have liked by Father. He told me he was short on some herbs used for healing, which grew in a remote part of the reservation near the burial ground, and asked me to gather some for him. Spending hours in open ground was the last thing I wanted to do on a raw, frosty morning, but I couldn’t disobey Father.Grudgingly, I left my bed of fur blankets. Father went outside to give me privacy while I prepared myself for the day. I had taken to wearing my outlaw clothes more than my native garb, simply because I’d grown to find trousers more comfortable than a dress. I put on a fresh shirt and tied Chavez's bandanna around my forehead, then gathered my supplies: Father's knife, a bow and a quiver of arrows in case I was attacked, a medicine pouch for the herbs, and an apple.I climbed up to the ridge overlooking the burial ground and began to hunt for the needed herbs. It was difficult to remove them from the dirt, as many of them had frozen. I paused in what I was doing to breakfast on my apple. Suddenly, I heard the sound of approaching hooves. I squinted down at the burial ground. A group of horsemen stood near the graves. My heart leapt as I noticed Chavez leading the group; Billy and Doc were the only other men I recognized. Part of me wanted to run over to greet them, but part of me knew I should be cautious due to the strangers. I remained where I was, munching my apple. One of the men I didn't recognize rode over to a grave and began to dig through the rocks covering it. I threw the apple with all my might, hitting the grave robber."Where the hell did that come from?" he wondered aloud, rubbing the back of his head.Chavez, screaming with rage, jumped from his charging horse on top of the other man. I jumped to my feet and watched the progress of the fight closely as I scrambled down from the rocks. Chavez and the other man wrestled on the ground for a while, then the grave robber pulled out a thick bone-handled knife. Chavez pulled a double-ended blade from inside his boot and twirled it expertly. The pair danced about, each man trying to avoid being stabbed. The other man threw dirt in Chavez's face and knocked him to the ground, then he drove his knife to the hilt into Chavez's arm.'Bastard,' I thought.I swallowed sickly as Chavez lay motionless, knife stuck in him. Chavez slashed out at the other man. The double-ended blade tore the man's shirt and opened a gash on his stomach. It took the grave robber a minute to realize he'd been injured."Shit, shit," he cursed, reaching for his pistol.By then, I was behind him. I nocked an arrow into my bow. As I pulled the string taut, I heard guns cocking all around the cemetery.Billy's voice said lightly, "I don't think so, Dave." Then he chuckled. "Serena Riddle. I'll be damned.""Nice to see ya again, Billy," I said, turning to address him, but keeping one eye on Dave."Wow," breathed a boy who barely looked thirteen. "Billy, is that Rampaging Riddle?"I barely held back a gasp at how much damage had been done to Chavez. The thick blade of the knife was sticking through the other side of his arm. I had to get him to Father right away. I helped Chavez to his feet, and he managed a grin. "Querida," he said. He turned to Dave, his eyes cold. “You want your knife back?”“Yeah,” groaned Dave, standing up.Dave pressed one hand over his own wound and firmly grasped the knife’s handle. He pulled straight up; the weapon came out of Chavez’s arm with a horrible sound. Chavez didn’t cry out, merely winced.“Thank you,” said Dave politely.He started to clean the blood off it.“Querida,” Chavez said faintly."Don't try to talk," I said. "You'll be all right as soon as I get you to my father.""What about me?" whined Dave. "I'm bleedin' too."I rolled my eyes disgustedly; Dave had no more than a glorified scratch. Before I could say anything, Billy spoke up. "Ain't nobody gonna help ya, Dave. Nobody can stand the way you carry on with that hatefulness. You got what was comin' to ya, way you're always insultin' Chavez and his family."He continued in this vein as I led Chavez away. He leaned against me so hard he damn near broke my back before we reached Father's wikiup. Using my native tongue, I explained to Father that my friend Chavez had been injured while trying to protect our burial ground from robbers."Wait outside, Ayasha," said Father. "This is not for you to see."Now, if I had stomached witnessing the injury, I could sure as hell witness the treatment. But I knew I had to do whatever Father said. As I left, Father instructed me to gather moss and some clean cloth. When I returned from my mission, I sat on the ground outside the wikiup until Father emerged. I questioned him with my eyes; he beckoned me in. I gasped. Chavez was slumped against the wall, eyes closed, his whole forearm soaked in blood."Is he dead?" I worriedly asked Father.Father shook his head and began to clean himself up. "He lost much blood, but he will be all right," he said with absolute conviction. "He has a warrior's strength."I knelt next to Chavez and began to bandage his arm. I had to stop several times to collect myself, as tears kept clouding my vision. I decided to remain with him until he came to again.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
I’d been sitting with Chavez for quite a while when an unexpected voice made me jump.“Hi,” said Billy.Quickly, I dried my eyes and wiped my nose. I can count on one hand the number of times anyone has seen me cry. “Are you okay, ‘Rena?” Billy asked gently.“Yeah, I’m just fine,” I replied.“How’s Chavez doin’?” Chavez let out a sudden groan. He sat up slowly, clutching his head like he had a headache. “I am fit for another day. Please thank your father for his kindness, Serena.”“I’ll do that,” I promised.Billy helped Chavez to his feet and we all walked outside to the horses.“We got a score to settle with my old friend Patsy,” said Billy. Before I could ask who Patsy was and what he’d done, he added, “You wanna come with us, ‘Rena?”I thought about it. I wanted to join the boys on whatever the hell they were up to, partly because I could be close to Chavez. I wasn’t sure I wanted to leave Father. He told me he had missed me every day during the four years that I was gone. I was finally home, and it would break his heart if I left again.Doc put a hand on my shoulder. “It’s fine if you don’t want to come,” he said. “We already know that you’re brave; you don’t have to prove anything to us.”“I can’t leave you boys,” I said. “We made a pact. Pals forever.”“I don’t care if you all swapped spittle and took turns givin’ each other a roll in the hay,” said Dave. “I don’t take to women in my gang, and I definitely don’t take to no Indian women.” “It ain’t your gang, Dave,” said Billy, his tone showing they’d had this conversation many times before.I went back to the village. I sat down with Father and had a serious conversation with him. I don’t remember specifically what either of us said. The result of our talk was that Father didn't like the idea of me leaving again since there was no guarantee that I would come back, but he didn't outright forbid me to join the gang. I rounded up Storm Cloud, saddled him, and caught up with the boys just as they were leaving."Wow," breathed the little boy I'd seen with them. "I'm gonna ride the trail with The Kid and Rampaging Riddle."Billy grabbed the boy by his shirtfront, pulled him real close to his face, and said, "You better quit callin' us by those absurd nicknames or I'll give you a name that'll stick with you forever that you won't like. Little Orphan Tommy comes to mind. Maybe Shadow Tom or somethin' catchy like that. I don't wanna hear any more crazy talk about lawlessness bein' fashionable. It ain't nothin' to sneeze at if you break the law, especially when it involves killin’. Won’t lead nowhere but to the grave. You best learn that and learn it fast. You hear me?”Tommy, intimidated, nodded. “Yes, sir.”Everything was fairly silent until dark when we found a place to stop and set up camp. Dave stretched out lazily on the ground and said, “Billy, if you insist on a woman bein’ in the gang, then I insist she make herself useful. I could use some supper right quick, darlin’.” I glared at him. “Call me ‘darlin’ again and see what happens.”“’Rena makes herself right useful,” Billy defended me. “She’s a Lincoln County Regulator. Every bit as deadly as the rest of us. You best remember that.”Tommy swallowed hard and looked nervously at me. “Do—do you really scalp all the men you kill?” he stammered.I raised an eyebrow. What was with this kid, anyway? I’d seen and heard of plenty of lies being written about me, but scalping was a new one.“No. Not recently, anyway,” Billy said, just for devilment.Dave blinked. Beneath the dirt all over his face and scruffy beard, I'd swear I detected a hint of worry. Well, if he wanted to think I was some kind of bloodthirsty savage, I was all for letting him. At least it might keep him from insulting me. I grabbed my six-shooter and went off in search of game. Being that it was late in the evening, there wasn't a hell of a lot of choice other than scorpions or rattlers. Scorpions actually weren't bad after they were shelled and their stingers cut off, but it would take a damn colony to feed seven people. I took my time getting back to camp; I knew the boys wouldn't be happy that I hadn't found any supper.I got back just in time to witness an amusing episode. Dave was saying uneasily, "Darkness ain't natural." Without missing a beat, Chavez kicked some dirt over the campfire and it promptly went out. I chuckled as I lay down next to Chavez. Toward the end of the Lincoln County War, he had begun sleeping closer to me, saying it was for warmth and he didn't want me to catch cold. I closed my eyes and drifted away.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Billy woke us all early the next morning. He told us we were going to pay a visit to John Simpsum Chisum. Chisum was not only the richest man in the New Mexico Territory; he'd also been a financial partner of Tunstall and McSween. Albeit, he was a silent partner, but still an important ally. As soon as we got some money from Chisum, Billy promised to take us all to hide out in Old Mexico. He told us of the Mexican Blackbird, a trail he'd blazed himself many years ago. I'd never heard of it, but I still trusted Billy. I didn't think he would intentionally lead us into danger.Chisum lived on a sprawling ranch in the middle of nowhere, the biggest one I'd ever seen. A Mexican worker began to feverishly ring a bell as the seven of us rode into the ranch. Chisum came out of the house, dressed in a fancy smoking jacket. He gave us a big false smile."Well, my God. You really turned out to be a snake, Billy.” Chisum said in his deep, rumbling voice. “When they catch you, they're gonna dry-gulch your stinkin' bones."Billy ignored the remark and said in a placid tone, "I'm tryin' to get my friends to Old Mexico, Mr. Chisum. We need some pesos. I've done some figurin' an’ I figure you owe us. Two hundred and fifty dollars for the fightin' we all did last year and another two hundred and fifty for me leavin’ your stock alone.""Oh, is that what you figured?" asked Chisum with a small chuckle."Yes, sir, it's what I figured." Billy replied."Well, you can take those figures and shove ‘em up your arrogant little ass and set fire to 'em," Chisum said nastily. "I don't owe you a goddamn thing.""You’re right. The Lincoln County War is over. We just want to get out of here," pleaded Doc. "Get down below.""Oh, you'll get down below, all right, Doc.” said Chisum in a low voice. “You'll get down below.” There was no mistaking the real meaning of this statement. “You're Billy the Kid too, you know. You all are. And I don't owe you anything, Doc, or you, Chavez. Or you, Serena. Now get the hell out of here, or I'll bring my .50 down and give you a real game."Aw hell. Chisum had done it now. It was never a good idea to threaten Billy, least of all when his short temper was already under severe strain from lack of food and sleep. Quick as lightning, Billy plucked one of his guns from its holster and pointed at the Mexican ranch hands."Yoo-hoo!" he sang. "I'll make you famous. Mr. Chisum, which of these boys is the fastest with the iron?""Don't you do it, Billy," said Chisum."That be me," piped up the shorter and chubbier of the two Mexicans."Drop Sam Colt," Billy ordered. The ranch hand uneasily slid his gun belt off. Billy got off his horse, handing the reins to Doc. "You owe me five hundred dollars, Mr. Chisum." he said in a deceptively calm tone. "What I'm gonna do is kill one of your men for every five dollars you owe me."Dave interrupted. "Billy, why shoot the dumb Mexicans?" He glanced at me. "If Chisum really needs a pound of flesh, he can take it outta her. I'll bet she knows how to do somethin' worth five hundred dollars."I felt my face growing hot. I punched Dave in the mouth as hard as I could, bloodying his lip."Shit!" he cursed, spitting out a tooth. "You little bi--"Chavez held up his knife. "Do you really want to finish that word, Dave?" he asked lightly.I looked back to Billy, who'd just thrown his own gun belt into the dirt."When I go for my gun, you can start shootin'." he told the Mexican ranch hand. "But I promise you, you will not make it."He took a step toward the gun. The Mexican fired, but Dave put him down before we could blink."Four hundred ninety-five," Billy counted down. “Hendry.”Hendry struggled to get his rifle out of the holster on his saddle, but couldn’t manage it. He fumbled for his gun belt; his shaky hands made it impossible to undo the strap. He muttered, “Oh my God” over and over again. It was Doc who sent the second ranch hand to meet the first. Chisum looked at the bodies, jaw dropped to the ground."Four hundred and ninety," Billy said with a smirk.Chisum's face twisted with fury. "You just killed yourself. You call yourself the scourge of New Mexico? Well, by God, I am New Mexico. And you are dead.""Let me tell you somethin', Mr. New Mexico, I wouldn't give a bucket of piss for your future," said Billy, mounting his faithful palamino. "You have yourself a good day now.""Billy, was that really necessary?" Doc asked as we rode away. "Now the bounty on all our heads will double, or even triple. You can't kill employees of the richest man in the territory and think no one will notice."Billy announced the next stage of his plan. "If it's too much of a hardship for Chisum to give us any money, we'll just take a few of his cows.""That's suicidal!" said Doc."Tell ya, that's how it's gotta be sometimes," Billy said sharply. "Sometimes a man won't listen to nothin' else.""And I don't know about the rest of you, but I sure as hell don't wanna starve to death before we get to Old Mexico. I guaran-damn-tee ya that's what'll happen if we don't pick up some cash fast." added Dave."What about Charley Bowdre?" asked Doc. "I know he'll let us stay with him once we find him.""We'd have to find him first," Billy pointed out.We rode to a small prairie and set up camp. We told stories around the fire, attempting to ignore how loudly our stomachs were growling. I fell asleep before the others and woke to the stench of fresh cow manure. I looked around; we were surrounded by at least ten head of cattle."This is your idea of a few cows?" I asked Billy incredulously.He just laughed and slapped his knee like this was the greatest joke in the world. Sweet Christ in heaven, that boy must have had a death wish.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
We rode toward the nearest town, making very slow progress because we kept having to chase after cattle that broke away from the herd. Probably three days later, we found it. Billy approached the first person he saw. He put an arm around the man's shoulder and led him toward us."How 'bout some cows?" Billy asked the man.The man inspected the herd and paid us a handsome sum for it. Billy found a stick and scratched a math problem in the dirt. He laboriously calculated how to divide the money between seven of us, which amounted to almost 25 dollars apiece and a little left over. Enough to get us across the border, if the boys didn't spend it on whiskey and women first. Once we all had our money, Hendry approached Billy."You're called Kid, Serena is Rampaging Riddle, and Rudabaugh's Arkansas Dave," Hendry rattled off. "And I daresay Doc's Christian name ain't Doc.""You want a name?" Billy guessed."Oh yes, sir. I would like that very much indeed," said Hendry."You have to earn your nickname. Until then, you're stuck with plain old Hendry. Sorry," Billy apologized, patting him on the shoulder. He motioned to Dave, who was slinking toward a cantina to gamble away his money. "Get back here, Rudabaugh. Mount up.""Where are we going now?" Doc asked wearily."White Oaks. I wanna drop in on an old friend of mine," Billy replied."Who?" asked Tommy."Jane Greathouse," Billy said, smiling to himself. "Most beautiful gal in all of New Mexico. Besides 'Rena, I mean."White Oaks was another day's ride from where we were. A sign outside town read" "Welcome to White Oaks. We Will Not Tolerate Scum.""What's 'scum'?" asked Tommy."Well, Tom, that's bad types: politicians, bankers, cattle kings, and such," Billy explained.As we rode into the town itself, it became very clear that the citizens of White Oaks had a much different definition of scum. The townsfolk were all wearing their best clothes; I ventured a guess it was Sunday. They gaped in open-mouthed horror at us. Mothers pulled their children to the other side of the street, away from our horses. The childrens’ eyes glimmered with excitement; they knew us well from our Wanted posters.We dismounted in front of a large manor house located a few doors down from the church. A woman with spiral-curled red hair, wearing a long rust-colored gown, descended the stairs."Well, I'll be hog-tied and sent to Hades!" she cried, throwing herself into Billy's arms. "Billy! What did you bring me?" She chuckled as we filed through the doorway. "Wicked boys. Four, five, six wicked boys. Wicked and wanted or just plain wicked?"“Thousand dollars on me." Billy bragged."I heard five hundred," Jane countered."Then you heard wrong, Jane."“I also heard you ain’t long for the territory.”“We’re going to Old Mexico, right, Billy?” asked Doc.Jane wished us luck, which I knew we would need.Dave nudged Tommy in the ribs as Jane led us to a nicely furnished sitting room. "We're gonna make a man out of you, son," Dave snickered.A small Black girl moved about the room with a silver tray of shot glasses as the boys seated themselves. Tommy eagerly slurped the whiskey, then suddenly grimaced. He looked desperately around, probably for something to kill the fire going down his throat.Jane suddenly turned to me. "Oh, my heavens." she said. "If it ain't Ravishin' Riddle, the sweetest songbird a saloon could ever have. I never got a chance to see you, but I did hear you were good. How about singin' a little somethin' for old time's sake?"I obliged with a few bars of “Shenandoah.” Jane clapped gently when I finished, then eyed up Tommy. “How old’s this fella?”“Seventeen,” Billy lied.“Fourteen-and-a-half,” Tommy said at the same time.“Fourteen-and-a-half,” Jane repeated. “Well, don’t forget that half. There’s a lot of experience packed into that half.”“It’s different,” Billy said out of nowhere.“What? My hair?” asked Jane. “It’s the new fashion. Do you like it?”“Not just your hair,” said Billy. “Everything. Outside, too. They got a church. This ain’t White Oaks.”Jane told him the population was now over two thousand, a lot of what we called back-East money. “Town’s different. It’s respectable.”Doc looked amused. “You’re not telling us you’ve gone respectable, now, Jane, have you?”Jane smiled. “Well, to the eye that don’t know no better, yeah, I have.”Dave had heard enough. He demanded that he and the gang be provided with some boondah.“Did I hear you say you’d like an excellent malt, six times, served in a room with a southern view?” Jane asked.“You’re a lady to the manor-born, Jane.” Doc toasted her.This was my cue to exit. "Me and the boys are runnin' a little low on supplies. Does this town have a general store?""Right down there, sugar," said Jane, pointing to the left. "Can I get you boys somethin' while I'm there?" I asked."Gumballs," said Tommy."A new book if you can find one," said Doc."And don't forget the apples," said Billy. "Like I always say: 'An apple a day keeps the lynch mobs away.'" He giggled hysterically at his own joke. Calming down, he added, "And some cake if they got it. Christ, it's been so long since I've had some real good cake."Billy let out a sigh and massaged his stomach. I nodded, trying to keep everything the boys requested in mind.“I’m sure you’d like to relax a bit yourself,” said Jane. “I’ll have one of my girls set you up with a nice, hot bath, a glass of my finest brandy, and somethin' real pretty to wear.”I held back a shudder; those were practically the same words Murphy said to me four years ago. Jane didn’t know that, I told myself, she was just being hospitable. And a bath would truly be a welcome treat.“Thank you, Jane,” I said. "Boys, I'll be back before you get a chance to miss me.""Oh, you can take your time, darlin'," Dave assured me. "We ain't in no hurry."'I'll bet you aren't,' I thought as I left the manor.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
I walked in the open doorway of the general store, which had the same odd, yet comforting mix of smells that all stores had. I picked up a few white handkerchiefs; Chavez's arm needed to be wrapped in clean bandages soon. Chavez would never admit it, but the wound had weakened him. I hoped Billy would decide to spend a few days in White Oaks so Chavez could get some much needed bed rest.My eyes fell upon the shelves and barrels of food next to the counter. I seized the ripest, reddest apple in the barrel and bit into it. I probably should have shown more dignity as a lady. I figured I was in men's clothes, anyway; no one would be the wiser. The clerk, the same awkward, bespectacled specimen employed in every store I'd ever visited, frowned disapprovingly at me. Coolly, I moved my coat aside to reveal the knife tucked into my gun belt. The clerk made a small noise, like a mouse being trodden on, but didn't say anything.As I took another bite of apple, I got the feeling I was no longer alone in the store. I turned, coming face-to-face with a tall man dressed all in black. He had dark hair, ice-blue eyes, and a short, neatly trimmed beard. I instantly recognized the man from posters I'd seen several towns ago: Pat Garrett for Sheriff. And he had to know who I was."Mighty powerful appetite for such a small gal," Garrett said with the ghost of a grin.I swallowed and composed myself. It was time to act like a simple, meek woman. "Beg your pardon for my lack of manners, sir." I said. "I've been riding for days, and I'm quite famished.""I can see," said Garrett with the same expression on his face.I ignored him and bustled about the store, gathering food and supplies in my arms. Garrett followed me."Where'd you come from?" he asked."Albuquerque," I lied smoothly. "I'm headed out to Oregon to teach school there.""This is hardly the time for a woman to be traveling alone. There are lawless men in these parts, just waiting for easy prey," said Garrett.I laid my purchases on the counter and pulled a few bills from my pocket. Garrett shook his head at the clerk."I'll be paying for this lady's purchases," he said."Why, that's very generous of you, Mr. Garrett," I said.Something moved in Garrett's face. "Have you ever heard tell of an outlaw called Rampaging Riddle?" he asked lightly."No," I said. "I'd recall such a frightful name.""Oh, I'm sure you have, ma'am. In fact, I'd say you're her spitting image."I remained quiet; Garrett was trying to provoke me into saying something stupid. I gathered up my supplies and left the store.Garrett called after me. "Good afternoon, ma'am. Have a safe trip."I was halfway across the street when I remembered about the cake. Billy would be beyond pissed that I hadn't bought it, but I couldn't risk going back to the store. Not so long as Garrett was around. Next, I took Storm Cloud to the blacksmith. He had a loose shoe that needed repairs. Chores done, I walked back to Jane's. Surely the boys would be done by now.The minute I entered Jane's, the sound of laughter and squeaking beds reached my ears. I decided to take Jane up on her offer of a bath. The problem was I had no idea which room she had put the tub in. When I emerged on the upstairs landing, I opened the first door I noticed. I was then treated to the sight of two whores “entertaining” a naked, very drunk Dave."Oh God!" I groaned in disgust, closing my violated eyes.Dave hastily yanked a sheet over himself and hollered, "Close the damn door!"I gladly did. I moved down the hallway to another door. This time, I had the good sense to press my ear to it before opening it. No sound was coming from within. I hesitantly pushed the door open. There was a bath waiting for me, the water still steaming. Jane had put out lacy underthings, a saloon girl’s dress, a tumbler of brandy and a bottle of the same, and fancy scented soaps.I undressed and climbed into the tub, reveling in the smell of the soaps. I reached for the glass of brandy and took an experimental sip. The alcohol tasted like peaches; it slid smoothly down my throat and settled in the bottom of my stomach with a slight burn. I found I enjoyed the sensation. I finished the glass while I soaked in the tub.Once I was finished bathing, I dressed and went to find Chavez. He loved me and would never betray me with one of Jane’s girls, so I knew he would be alone. I opened the door of another silent room a crack. When it squeaked, Chavez, fully clothed on the bed, opened one eye."Querida," he said, smiling.He winced as he tried to push himself up with his injured arm. I sat next to him on the bed and spread out one of the handkerchiefs. I emptied the pockets of my coat, which I had brought with me because it contained a fair amount of food from the general store. Chavez didn't seem to notice and started to close his eyes again."I think you'd better eat something," I said, pushing an apple into his hand. "You're starting to look pale."Chavez skinned the apple with his knife, then hungrily chomped into it. He made short work of the apple and moved on to the rest of our small picnic.“Did Jane give you that to wear?” he asked, eyeing me.“Yeah. She said one of her girls would wash my other clothes,” I said.“I think they are all otherwise occupied,” said Chavez.I suddenly became aware of just how much of my skin was exposed. Emboldened by the brandy, I kissed him passionately. Chavez’s eyes widened in surprise, then closed as he pressed his lips to mine. I caressed his face, dying to find out exactly how it would feel to be touched all over by the man I loved. Our quiet moment was cut short by the sound of approaching horses and a man's voice bellowing, "William H. Bonney! Alias Billy the Kid! Alias William Antrim! Josiah Scurlock, alias Doc! Serena Riddle, alias Rampaging Riddle!"We broke apart. The door banged open and Billy stuck his head in, hastily buttoning his shirt."A posse found us," he said tensely. "I bet that son of a bitch Pat Garrett's behind this. You two get rolling downstairs."We crashed down the steps while the head of the posse continued to shout, "And Dave Rudabaugh of Las Vegas, alias Arkansas Dave!""He said Dave Rudabaugh of Las Vegas!" Dave yipped with joy."Yeah, I'm real happy for ya, Dave," Doc said sarcastically. "And any other black knights on the premises shall turn their bodies over to the law, or perish in flame!" finished the man outside.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Jane inhaled deeply; the scowl on her face would have stopped a clock. "I know that voice. It's Deputy Carlyle. I best go speak to him." She yanked open the front door of the saloon, marched out, and yelled, "Deputy Carlyle, what the hell is goin' on out here?"There was a small scream. Deputy Carlyle called to us, "Billy the Kid, we've got Jane Greathouse held out here. I'm coming in to talk to you, and if anything happens to me, the citizens here say they will string her up and burn her. Do you agree to those terms?"Billy chuckled under his breath. "Do I agree to those terms? Who is this guy?" Quickly, he cleared his throat and called through the door, "Yes, sir. We agree to those terms."I chanced a peek through the curtains. Jane was being restrained by two men in white hoods who were obviously armed. At least thirty other men were behind those two. All carried torches; some had pitchforks and other farm implements. Things looked bad, all right, but Billy had a plan. "Boys, put your guns away and look respectable. Ladies, upstairs. Riddle, O'Folliard, disappear." "Like hell I will," I said through gritted teeth. "Now is not the time to screw around with me, 'Rena," said Billy. "Just shut your mouth and do what you're told for once."Dave looked ready to hit me."If you harm so much as a hair on Querida's head, I'll bury you," Chavez warned. While Dave was considering those terms, a bony hand curled around my arm and its owner dragged me behind the piano. I turned my head slightly and came face-to-face with Tommy. "You little--" was all I got out before Tommy covered my mouth. That damned kid was going to get it.The boys scrambled to get into casual poses. Dave, Billy, and Doc sat around a large table. Billy leafed through an issue of The Independent while Dave dealt himself a game of solitaire; Chavez sat near the fireplace and opened up a book. A man of medium height and average build entered the saloon. He had a bushy black mustache and wore a long, dark coat. He cleared his throat a couple of times and Billy looked up."Gentlemen, which of you is the leader of your gang?" asked the man, who I assumed was Deputy Carlyle."I am," said Billy.“That would be me, Arkansas Dave,” Dave said at the same time."You are not, Dave," shouted Billy."I am so!" Dave shouted back."You are not.""I am so!""Not!""Am!"Tommy giggled as the two continued their argument, sounding for all the world like children. I elbowed Tommy to make him shut up.Deputy Carlyle cleared his throat again. "Gentlemen, I am a deputized man, and I do things the law way.""Which way?" Billy asked, getting up from the table and planting himself about an inch from Carlyle's face."Law...way," said Carlyle, seeming to lose some of his coolness. "Now the people out there, they do things their own way. Now they got their minds set on a hangin' and it's gonna be hell if I can't control the situation. What I propose is this: I understand you have Indians in your group."Billy nodded. "Yes, sir. Jose Chavez y Chavez, he's a Mexican-Indian. And, uh, Rampaging Riddle's a half-breed. How'd they be?""Well, that'd be just fine," Carlyle smiled. "If I can give those Indians to the people out there, they'll be well satisfied. The rest of you can just ride out.""You hear that, Chavez? I can agree to those terms, sir," said Billy. "They're an angry mob indeed and we do happen to have Indians on the premises.” He went over to Chavez, muttered something to him, and returned with Chavez’s hat in hand. “Now, Mr. Law Way, may I see your hat?""I don't see how hats are relevant in this situation," said Carlyle uneasily.Billy cocked his pistol. "I do."Not about to argue with that, Carlyle allowed Dave to remove his hat. “Dave, the gentleman’s jacket.” Said Billy. Carlyle allowed Dave to take off his overcoat. Billy plopped Chavez’s hat on Carlyle's head and wrapped a Navajo blanket he'd found on the sofa around Carlyle's shoulders."There. I can talk to you now. You don't look like such a politician," said Billy pleasantly."Can I take the Indians with me or not?" asked Carlyle."The Indians are goin' out to satisfy the crowd, just like I said."I prepared to run; if Billy was going to betray me, I sure as hell wasn't gonna go quietly. Billy pointed his gun at Carlyle's head. "You obviously don't understand the meaning of the word 'pals.' You think I'd hand my friends over to a bucket of mule dung like you? That's an insult. Turn around, Chief."A male voice from outside bellowed, "Come on, Carlyle! Are ya bringin' him out or not?""All right, you white caps! We're comin’ out, but we're comin' out shootin'! Get ready for war!" Billy hollered back.He got behind Carlyle and pushed him forward, trying his best to imitate an Indian war whoop. I went ahead of Billy and pulled open the door. Gunshots rang out the second I closed the door after Carlyle. I ducked the bullets, shards of broken glass raining on my back. For a moment, all was quiet. Then I heard hooves pounding away."They're leaving. They’re all skinnin' out," said Hendry.I looked through the shattered window and immediately knew why. The citizens of White Oaks had just murdered their own deputy. Billy laughed his one-of-a-kind laugh as he ambled to the bar. He poured himself a sizeable shot of whiskey and raised his glass to us. "Pals," he said, throwing back his head to drain the glass.I tensed when I heard footsteps on the front porch. Maybe someone had come to finish what Carlyle started. No, it was only Jane. She stepped idly over Carlyle's corpse, letting her skirt drag across his face. She eyed the damage to her wall, window, and door; her face clouded with anger."I'm awful sorry 'bout this, Jane," Billy apologized. "I swear I can make it up to you." He handed Jane a wad of bills. "Here. This is for the damages. And this," he added, handing her some money Dave had carelessly left on the table, "is so you can buy yourself a pretty new dress."She smiled coquettishly. "Why, thank you kindly, William H. Bonney.""Always my pleasure, Jane." said Billy. "Regulators, let's saddle up before the good sheriff comes pokin' 'round here.”
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
I woke the next day to the sound of retching punctuated with sniffles and whimpers. Apparently, whiskey had not agreed with Tommy. Losing his virginity and getting his first hangover within a few hours of each other, he was growing up damn fast. When Tommy was all through getting sick, he dissolved into tears of shame. He worshipped Billy, so I guess he was afraid that Billy would lose respect for him when he saw how sick Tom was. All his worrying was for nothing; Billy was still sound asleep under his coat. How he could have slept through the racket Tommy made as he threw up was anybody's guess."Don't let him find out," Tommy pleaded to me.I took pity on Tommy and I helped him clean up the mess he'd made all over the ground. I gave him a cup of hot water with chamomile in it to drink, the idea being it would settle his stomach down. It ended up relaxing Tommy to the point that he dozed off, curled up at Billy's feet like a faithful pet dog.I squinted up at the sky. It was still fairly dark out. I could probably get an hour or two's worth of sleep before Billy would start hollerin' at us to wake up. Tiredly, I crawled back to the spot where I'd left my bedroll the night before. I laid my head down and started to close my eyes. But it seemed like my pillow was moving.'What the hell...' I thought.Turning my head slightly to the left, I realized that my pillow was Chavez's midsection. His eyes fluttered open and he smiled slightly."Good morning, Querida," he said. "You're up a little early.""Tommy wasn't feeling well so I got up to take care of him," I said. I tried to adjust my position and fiery pain shot through my back. "Shit!" I cursed."Is something wrong?" Chavez asked concernedly."Yeah." I said. "Everything from my neck down is tight."Chavez sat up, gently guiding me to the ground. He stripped off his gloves and said to me, "Roll over on your belly."Had it been any other man, I would have told him to stick his gun barrel where the sun don't shine. But since I trust Chavez with my life, I listened to him. He put his big hands on the base of my neck, slowly and gently applying pressure to the crick in it. I closed my eyes as Chavez kneaded my shoulders and loosened up my back. It felt so wonderful; I couldn't help letting out a little moan of pleasure and relief. At that exact moment, Arkansas Dave strolled into camp, hauling his trousers back into place. He stopped dead, his hazel-green eyes drifting over the pair of us. Finally, he found his voice."What the hell are you doin'?""Get your mind out of the gutter; I'm fixing her back," Chavez replied coldly.I sat up and rolled my shoulders back and forth. "Thank you so much.""I'm glad to help, Querida," he replied with an almost flirtatious smirk.Billy emerged from underneath his coat and yawned loudly. Hendry and Doc sat bolt upright and started to gather their things; that yawn was our hint to break camp. Billy started to mount his horse, but doubled over in midstep.Rubbing his shirtfront, he declared, "I think it's time to put somethin' in my belly 'sides whiskey.""Couldn't hurt," Doc agreed, putting his hat on. "But, Billy, we're wanted men. We can't exactly go door to door and ask people if they'll feed us.""I know Jane would, but she can't cook worth a damn," said Dave. He gave us a nasty grin. "'Course, cookin' ain't exactly in her job description.""That's enough of that kinda talk," said Hendry sternly. "There's womenfolk and children present, Rudabaugh.""Tommy ain't a child no more. Are ya, Tommy?" asked Dave.Tommy didn't answer.We saddled up and followed Billy's lead to a tiny little ranch house. A stout little fellow with dark, curly hair and an easy grin opened the door. I couldn't believe my eyes. Charley was pleased as punch to see us and invited us in the house."Manuela can fix y'all somethin' to eat soon as she's finished tendin' to Marisol," said Charley."Marisol?" Doc was confused."My baby," Charley said with a proud smile on his face. "Hope ya don't mind that she's your namesake, 'Rena. I always thought Marisol was a purty name.""Mind? I'm flattered," I said, even though Marisol was the middle name Murphy had given me to make me sound even more exotic.Charley's wife emerged from the bedroom with a tiny bundle of blankets in her arms. Charley slipped a loving arm around Manuela, gloating about how lovely the baby was and how lucky he was to have his wife and child. Doc looked away. I guessed he was thinking of his own infant daughter, Hope, who was currently in New York. He'd told me how helpless and scared he'd felt as he paced outside Yen's bedroom door, listening to the sounds she made struggling to deliver their child. For a horrible time there, he'd thought Yen would die, along with the baby. He'd named the little girl Hope to remind himself never to give up.Billy held up a mug of stone-cold coffee and toasted to the health of Charley, Manuela, and little Marisol. Manuela handed the baby to Charley and went to the kitchen to prepare a meal for us. I followed, thinking it was only right to help as a fellow woman. I tied on an apron and Maneula showed me how to grind tortillas."There is especial man in your life," she said to me suddenly. "You not say it, he not say it, but you both love each other. You tell him you love him. Then you can make beautiful children together."I laughed slightly. Not for the life of me could I picture myself as a mother. I knew Father wanted grandchildren, but so many women in our village died during childbirth that it put me off the idea of family. Of course, I could try to adopt a kid like Tommy who needed a good home, but somehow, it wouldn't feel the same as having a child of my own.Manuela and I prepared nothing short of a feast for the evening. Frijoles, posole, green chile, quesadillas, rice, and I forget what else. Tommy got his appetite back and the rest of the boys were in great spirits, even Dave was bearable. We almost forgot we were on the run. We were just pals, dropping in to share supper with some other pals. It was dark by the time we finished eating. We were all so tired and full it made no sense to ride off and set up camp somewhere else. Instead, we crowded around Charley's wood-burning stove and slept on his kitchen floor.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
"What day is it?" I yawned to Charley, getting up."March the seventh, I think," Charley replied.It took a couple of moments for me to remember the significance of that date, then I muttered, "It's pretty damn sad when you forget your own birthday." I muttered to myself.Billy flashed me a big smile. "I didn't know today was your birthday, 'Rena. How old are ya now?"Again, I had to think. "Twenty." I answered.Billy rubbed his hands together. "Well, Charley, I reckon we should do something to celebrate the lady's birthday." He smiled devilishly at me. "Twenty shots of whiskey or twenty birthday kisses?""You can't be serious," I said."I am; you have to choose. Kisses or whiskey?"I glanced at Tommy. "No more drinking." "Kisses it is, then," declared Billy."Do I have to kiss Dave?" I wanted to know.Billy shook his head. "Not if you don't want to." He motioned to Tommy. "Come on outta that corner and give 'Rena a big 'Happy Birthday' kiss."Tommy gulped audibly; his face turned bright pink. He approached me hesitantly. Billy nodded for him to keep going, so Tommy planted a very shy kiss on the back of my hand.Billy stood half an inch away so only he and I could hear the conversation. "You ever kissed a man on the lips before?" I blushed. Billy leaned toward me, but I put my hand up. Billy was a good-lookin' fella and all, but Chavez had said he was in love with me; we had even kissed already. Billy seemed to understand what I was thinking. He gave me a sisterly peck on the cheek and mussed up my hair."What are you doing?" said Chavez's deadly calm voice behind us. "It's 'Rena's birthday." Billy explained. "She's gotta have twenty birthday kisses before sundown, or she'll have seven years of bad luck." "You get seven years of bad luck for breaking a mirror," Doc corrected him. "Not that I'm superstitious or anything."Billy, Doc, Charley, and Tommy went out to prepare our horses, leaving Chavez and I alone in the kitchen. I tried my best not to act nervous. Chavez gave me a small smile, curling one of his long, callused fingers around my hair. I leaned in to kiss him. I barely came up to his chest, so Chavez bent down. Our lips met in a kiss unlike the sloppy, half-drunk one we had shared in White Oaks. An intensely happy feeling I'd never before experienced surged through me. The kiss deepened, but we soon had to pull away for breath."Wow," I said weakly.Chavez kissed me again, this time on my forehead. "Happy birthday, querida." he said, stroking my cheek.About midafternoon, we came across a mine in the absolute middle of nowhere. Workers were loading donkey carts with heaps of something I couldn't quite identify, shouting orders to one another."You got any water?" Doc called desperately to the miners.No one answered him. Most of the workers were decidedly Mexican or Indian, so it was possible they hadn't understood a word Doc had said. We approached an old man with white hair and leathery, wrinkled skin. He was bent over a ledger, wrapped in a buffalo-skin coat."Hey, old-timer, when did this place boom up?" Billy asked him."Last week," said the old man, not looking up from his work."You minin' copper?"The old man shook his head. "Nah. Guano." Off Hendry's confused look, the miner added, "Bat droppings.""Bat droppings?" repeated Doc, looking revolted.Dave smirked. "I've been to gold towns, silver towns, even been to turquoise towns, but I have never been to a bat-shit town. Can't wait to see the women."The crack of a rifle rang out; the bullet embedded itself in the wooden structure above the old miner's head. A twenty-strong posse was pounding toward us."We gotta skin outta here!" Billy yelled. "Come on! Hurry!"We galloped across the dusty plains, turning occasionally to fire over our shoulders. The posse would not be deterred. I began to grow worried as we neared a ravine; it was a sheer drop, maybe a hundred feet down. There was no other route through the canyon."We have to jump!" Chavez yelled to us."Did you say 'jump'?!" I shouted back, unable to keep the fear out of my voice.Chavez dug his heels into Sparks' sides, bellowing, "Atsay! Atsay! Atsay!"Sparks threw her whole body into a leap, disappearing over the side of the ravine. The boys' horses followed. I could hear them screaming in terror all the way down. I hung back; I didn't want to jump. A bullet fired by a member of the posse whizzed past my ear, and I changed my mind. I closed my eyes, urging Storm Cloud forward. I felt air rushing past me as we descended, and I made the mistake of opening my eyes. I screamed more loudly than I've ever screamed in my life. The reins fell from my grasp; at the same moment, my right boot came out of the stirrup. I flipped into the air, crashing onto the unforgiving ground."Damn," I panted, my heart pounding painfully fast.I tried to push myself up, but my head began to swim. I put a hand to the back of my head, then pulled it back. To my relief, there was no blood on my palm. I was damn lucky not to have busted my head open on the rocks. Everything in my body hurt, but nothing seemed to be broken, so I pulled myself back onto Storm's back. Chavez barreled past, Dave riding behind him, clutching very hard around Chavez's waist. I later learned Dave’s horse had taken off without him when we landed."Sweet Mary's ass, how the hell'd you get 'em to do that?" asked Dave excitedly. "What's that mean, anyway? Atsay, atsay?""It's an ancient Navajo word. It means 'stop.'" Chavez replied.Dave found his own horse again and mounted it. We fell into a single-file line, following Billy's lead."Once we get to the top of this bluff," he said, "we'll have a clear view of the Nachita River. We'll sell the horses, then take a skiff downriver to Old Mexico."The boys could sell theirs if they wanted, but I would never give up Storm Cloud unless I absolutely had to. “Last one up the hill is a three-legged dog!” Billy called to us.I brought Storm Cloud’s pace to a fast trot. At the top of the trail, Billy reined his horse in. There we were, looking at the majesty of a bright orange sun setting over a winding river. The sunlight bounced off the water, causing it to sparkle. We all fell quiet; this was one of the most beautiful things any of us had seen. We had beaten long odds, not only journey so far, but to do it without losing anyone from our gang."Billy, is this Old Mexico?" Tommy breathed."No," Billy replied tensely, spotting something in the distance. "It's Garrett. Get down, Tom!"At that moment, the sun landed across my eyes. I protectively shut them; all I knew of what happened next was a gunshot followed by a panicked whinny and a soft voice somewhere behind me whispering, "I got him."I nudged Storm Cloud with my legs to make him walk. I eased him to a trot, a canter, and finally a gallop. I rode until past dark, when the smoke from a campfire led me to the boys. They were sitting around it, looking grim. I immediately noticed two missing people."Where's Billy?" I asked. Everyone shrugged. "Well, where's Tommy?" I got a second round of shrugs.I flopped onto the ground and lay on my back, watching the stars come out. The unthinkable had happened. Billy, our leader, foreman, and most importantly, our pal, was dead. Tears begin to sting my eyes. When I heard two sets of hooves approaching, I pushed myself onto my elbows to look. The bald-faced mare Tommy had named Pistoleer was tied to Billy's palomino. Billy's head was hanging; Pistoleer's saddle was empty."Where's Tommy?" called Hendry.Billy didn't answer as he dismounted.I grabbed Billy by his shoulders, forcing him to meet my eyes. "Billy, where the hell is Tommy?" Billy's bottom lip trembled."No," I said in a horrified whisper. "Oh, please, Billy, no."Billy wrapped his arms around my waist and began to sob into my vest. I started crying, too. I held Billy to my chest, like some helpless, oversized child, until he ran out of tears.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
"Hey yah hey, hey yah hey oh..." Chavez stood with his eyes to the heavens, singing a Navajo funeral chant.Nearby, I muttered an Apache funeral chant, then cut off a lock of my hair as a gesture of mourning. Chavez concluded his own chant and followed suit. Doc knelt on the ground nearby, offering up some Christian prayers for Tommy's soul, all the while looking daggers at Billy.Billy was sadly going through Tom's few possessions. There were several newspapers, all of which contained articles about Billy and I, a five-cent book called Billy the Kid: Prince of Pistoleers, and a different five-cent book called Rampaging Riddle: Outlaw Queen of the West. Billy hefted a Mason jar of marbles from the depths of the satchel. He looked at it for a moment, then wound up and threw it against a rock as hard as he could. The sound of glass breaking mingled with Billy's roar of rage and grief seemed to echo forever."He was just a damn kid," Billy groused, his eyes and nose red and swollen from crying. "Just a damn kid. I was supposed to protect him, but I didn't. I let him down."I tried to comfort him. "You did. I heard you yell for him to get down.” I choked back tears of my own. “He just wasn't quick enough. It's not your fault.""Goddamn it, it is my fault," Billy snapped. "I shouldn't have let him join the gang in the first place. He was too damn young and careless."I chose not to reply. Nothing I had to say could erase Billy's feelings of guilt and responsibility for Tommy's death. Also, Billy had a point. Growing up in the New Mexico territory forced a person to grow up quick, but nobody could expect to survive being a notorious outlaw at the tender age of fourteen-and-a-half. I offered Billy a dented old cracker tin, which contained a bit of cake I'd bought a few towns back. It was Billy's favorite kind, too: white cake smeared with a thick layer of sweet frost."Nah, I ain't got no appetite today, 'Rena," Billy replied gloomily, dropping the tin to the dirt.The winter air was beginning to make our faces sting, so we sought shelter in an abandoned house with no roof. I gathered some frozen twigs and got an anemic fire going. The boys and I huddled near the center of what had once been the main room. Billy sat opposite us on a low stool. He had a hangdog expression on his face and was shivering heartily, for he had only a thin sweater to keep him warm. And for the first time in anyone's memory, Billy was not wearing his gun belt."I spent a lot of nights in this cabin after the Lincoln War," said Billy, looking around him. "I tried to put other outfits together, but they were never the same. When you all came back, I felt like there was nothin' I wouldn't do to keep a gang together and keep ridin'.""What are you saying, Chivato?" asked Chavez.Billy answered him with another question. "Do you know what the Mexican Blackbird is?""A broken trail goes down to Old Mexico." answered Hendry."It's a half-black, half-Mexican whore up in Puerto de Luna." Billy said quietly."So...you mean you named the trail after her, right?" Doc wanted to know.Billy shook his head, not meeting Doc's eyes.Doc chuckled humorlessly. "There is no trail, is there, Billy? Is there?""No," Billy mumbled."What about Old Mexico? You promised us." Doc demanded."I'd be just another gringo in Old Mexico," said Billy. "That's the same as bein' dead."“What about Tommy?” Doc wanted to know.Billy was silent."You son of a bitch!" Doc said with quiet fury. "You’re starting to believe what they’re writing about you, aren’t you? Let me tell you what you really did. You rode a fourteen-year-old boy straight into his grave, and the rest of us straight to hell. Straight to hell." Doc stood, cocked his rifle, and pointed it at Billy's chest. Hands steady, voice shaking, Doc declared, "William H. Bonney, you...are not...a god."Billy straightened up to his full height, locking his eyes with Doc's. "Why don't you pull that trigger and find out?"Slowly, Doc lowered the weapon. "You're not worth it," he said. Starting for the door, he added, "I'm leaving. I'm going home."Doc barely had gotten his feet out the door when gunfire erupted. I felt Chavez's arm knock me back against the stone wall. I was initially angry with him for pushing me, until I realized why he'd done it. Billy dragged Doc into the cabin. Blood was pouring from Doc's chest. I knew in an instant he couldn't be saved. Billy did too.“They killed you. The bastards killed you.” He grabbed for his guns, accidentally firing a round into the air because his hands were trembling from anger. "PAT! YOU SON OF A BITCH!" he howled. "YOU KILLED A BOY! AND YOU KILLED DOC! YOU KNEW HIM!""They're startin' to surround us. We gotta skin outta here." said Dave."Who's leaving first?" I asked."Hendry William French, you never killed nobody. They ain't gonna shoot at you." Dave reasoned."Go to hell. They shot Tommy," Hendry snapped back."Somebody's gotta do it!" Dave yelled, frustrated.Billy patted Dave on the back. “Dave, it's your gang. You lead us out.""What?!" Dave cried, panicked. "This ain't my gang. It's your gang. It's always been yours."Billy cocked his pistol. "Don't cross me, Dave," he warned."Billy," Doc choked, blood trickling from his mouth. "Let's finish the game."Billy nodded his consent. He knew Doc was about to die, and I guess Billy didn't want him to suffer. Doc needed some help standing, then he burst out the doorway. Within seconds, he was face down in the snow, felled by bullets from the posse. I felt sick to my stomach as I saw him. Out of the regulators, Doc had always been among those I'd liked the least, but I hadn't wished him dead. What were we going to tell Yen? Would any of us even be alive to tell her?I'd never been one to panic, but now I could hardly think clearly. There was so much confusion and gunfire it was all I could do to dodge the bullets. Billy was still in the house, but Chavez, Dave, and Hendry were nowhere to be found.'They all left me,' I thought bitterly, recognizing the sound of far-off hoofbeats.I crept to a corner of the house that was overgrown with waist-high brush. I concealed myself in it and managed to wound a few members of Garrett's posse. The able-bodied men surrounded the cabin, catching Billy by surprise. He had no more bullets and couldn't fight back. He transformed almost instantly, from a famously brave outlaw to a man who looked as helpless as a newborn pup. He lay on his belly in the cabin, silently pleading for his life, his face the picture of defeat.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
The posse hauled Billy to his feet and chained up his hands. A posse member with a thin black mustache slipped away from the group and walked toward the back corner of the house. He thought the brush would be a nice, private place to relieve himself...until he parted the weeds and saw me."Shit," he said, yanking his pants up. "Pat, we got us another one."The mustached man grabbed my arm and dragged me out of my hiding place. A little red-haired man with glasses came over with a small length of rope and clumsily lashed my hands behind my back. The mustached man forced me to kneel on the ground, holding me from the shoulders so I couldn't get loose. Sheriff Pat Garrett ambled over to me, an easy grin on his face. He reached up and untied the bandanna holding my hair back."Rampaging Riddle," Garrett said lightly. "I should have known The Kid's pretty, young companion couldn't be far behind him." He jerked his head at the man who was holding me down. "Make sure you search her good, Poe. I hear tell the gal always has a blade on her somewhere."Poe stepped around to the front of me and unbuckled the gun belt around my waist, tossing it aside. He found Father's hunting knife strapped to my side and a small throwing dagger I'd hidden under my trouser leg. Garrett whistled softly; the redhead began scribbling furiously on a scrap of paper. I supposed he must be a reporter of some sort. Garrett warned the man (Ash, he called him) to stop writing so quickly; he wanted no detail overlooked due to haste.Poe tied Golden Boy's saddlehorn to Storm Cloud's, then tied another length of rope to secure our horses to Garrett's. They boosted us onto our horses and allowed our hands to be cuffed in front so we could grip the saddlehorn to steady ourselves. As we rode away, I noticed a trail of large blood drops on the ground, pointed in the direction that Chavez, Hendry, and Dave had ridden. I swallowed sickly. That much blood meant that one of them was hurt badly. After days of riding, our party reached a one-horse town. Billy and I spent the night in the same cramped cell at the local jail, then were shaken from our beds after only a few hours' sleep. Guards flanked us and marched us into the packed courthouse; it seemed everyone and their mother was eager to watch a judge seal the fates of Billy the Kid and his supposed sweetheart Rampaging Riddle.I was the first to be called to the stand. I had to swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. The judge read off my list of charges, which included some things I'd done and some things I hadn't. Most women would have told the judge they were expecting Billy’s child in hopes of escaping the noose, cried on the stand, begged to be set free, or some combination of those. My sense of honor wouldn’t permit me to do that; I was completely frank in my testimony about the Lincoln County War and what happened after. Billy hadn't known what I planned to say, or he would’ve told me to keep my mouth shut because being honest would get me killed.When I stepped off the stand, it was Billy's turn. The judge (who resembled a fat toad) read off Billy's list of charges, which was almost as long as his lists of aliases. The judge got about halfway through the list before he had to declare a recess for lunch. The trial took under five hours. This was mostly because we weren't being tried by a jury. After all, what jury in the New Mexico territory would have convicted us? We were heroes to most people. The judge handed down my sentence first: prison, then death by hanging. I winced involuntarily, even though I hadn't expected anything else. “Do you have anything you wish to say for yourself, young lady?” he asked.“No, sir,” I replied, looking at the floor. The judge started on Billy: "It is therefore considered by the court here that said defendant William H. Bonney, alias Kid, alias Henry McCarty shall be confined in prison in Lincoln County by the sheriff of such county. On a day to be set, said defendant will be taken to a suitable and convenient place of execution within said county. There, he shall be hanged by the neck 'til he be dead, dead, dead!" He slammed the gavel down and pointed it at Billy. "Do you have anything to say for yourself, young man?""Yes, sir, I do." Billy cleared his throat and declared, "You can go to hell, hell, hell."The courtroom erupted in shrieks of laughter; I even giggled in spite of myself. Judge Hop-Toad, of course, didn't find Billy the least bit amusing.“If you were not sentenced to death, I would jail you for contempt of my court,” he said.After that, the deputies came to take Billy and I away.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
We were moved from the local jail to the upstairs wing of the sheriff's office. Even though Billy and I were the most famous outlaws in the territory, one guard watched us both full-time. This was on account of the town being too broke to pay extra deputies. The guard was a scraggly fellow named Bell and he wasn't precisely intimidating. Bell wasn't a whole lot bigger than Billy or me, and I think he was a little slow in the head. He would sit for hours while Billy told him wild, exaggerated tales about his life. The town sheriff was a real nasty piece of work named Bob Ollinger. He seemed to have an interest in seeing Billy and I hurt as much as possible before we were hanged. One day, Ollinger sent his deputies to fetch a roast chicken for lunch. He sat about an inch from where Billy and I were chained and ate the whole thing by himself. That bastard had made sure Billy and I hardly got even a single bite to eat since our arrival at his jail. Being hungry was nothing new to either of us, but the fact that Ollinger was starving us just because he enjoyed our suffering pissed us off. When he finished eating, Ollinger laid his shotgun across his lap and began to polish it lovingly. "I got eighteen dimes in each barrel." he informed us. "Ever seen what a dollar and eighty can do to a forty-dollar steer? Imagine what'd happen to a pair of cheap little crooks like yourselves."Billy responded to this by blowing a loud raspberry. Ollinger bared his tobacco-stained teeth. "Just taunt me again, boy. That's all I'm askin', just taunt me again."Billy remained uncowed. "I wanna talk to Garrett," he said."You can't; he's in Mesilla." Bell explained. "Got a big interview and a tintype with The Independent.""Sure, he's a famous man now," Billy muttered darkly. Then he turned to Bell. "Did you send my letter to Governor Wallace or did you burn it?"Bell shifted uneasily. "It was sent, Kid." (He never called Billy by his first name; it was always "Kid"). “The sheriff had me put it on the mail stage.”"Why didn't he answer, then?" asked Billy.Bell shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe the governor ain't one for correspondence." (The mere fact he knew what "correspondence" meant was mindboggling). "My sister up in Colorado's like that. If you want me to, I can--""Would you just shut the hell up, Bell?" snapped Ollinger.Bell closed his mouth, bit his lip, and looked down at the floor. He never took it well when someone was angry with him."You know, Bell," Ollinger said thoughtfully, running a dingy rag across the gun's stock once more. "The sheriff never said we couldn't have a little fun with that squaw filly 'fore she swings from them gallows."The slur seemed to echo in my ears. I stared at Ollinger through narrowed eyes, daring him to take a step closer. Ollinger ignored my challenge and came up behind me, dragging his fingers across my body. I gagged; he smelled like he hadn't bathed in at least three years. Ollinger sidled to my front and tried to unbutton my shirt; I stomped his foot with one leg and kicked him between the legs with the other. Ollinger screeched like seven devils and somehow managed to backhand me. I fell back, dizzy from the blow."You're gonna pay for this," Billy snarled at Ollinger. Ollinger shuffled to Bell and said he was going to visit the saloon to chase his lunch with some whiskey. He warned Bell not to let anybody in the office or to unchain us for even a moment. After Ollinger left, Billy clumsily pulled a silver dollar from his pocket. He held it up to Bell's face."Here's a little trick to prove the hand is quicker than your mind," said Billy. He closed one fist over the dollar and mimed shooting a pistol at it. When he opened his hand up again, the coin was gone. Bell watched in amazement as Billy leaned over to pull the dollar from behind my ear. He swiveled away from Billy's sleight-of-hand tricks as he heard the door creak open. Framed in the doorway, dressed to the nines, was Billy's friend Jane."May I visit Billy Bonney?" Jane asked. "I'm an old acquaintance of his.""Ma'am, I'm afraid Sheriff Garrett won't allow any visitations." said Bell.“Oh.” Jane sounded disappointed. "May I at least leave a gift for him?" she pressed, holding up a lacy handkerchief that was tied into a neat bundle.Bell took it from her."Are you planning on opening another rooming establishment?” Billy asked her."Hell no. I’m opening a good, sawdust-on-the-floor, proper whorehouse,” Jane said proudly.“Thank you, ma’am,” Bell said, his tone politely suggesting she go somewhere else.Jane left, winking at Billy as she crossed the threshold. Bell handed the bundle to Billy, who opened it as privately as he could. It was a pouch of chewing tobacco. I found it an odd gift. In all the years I’d known Billy, I had never seen him chew. Jane had to be aware of that; she knew Billy as well as I did (even better if we’re referring to the biblical sense of the word). About a minute later, Billy asked Bell to take him downstairs to the outhouse. Bell glanced my way, worried about leaving me to my own devices. I graced him with the most angelic smile I could muster. Somewhat reassured, Bell left with Billy in tow.They were gone for about five minutes before I heard the clump of boots on the staircase and the rattling of Billy's chains. Then Billy started to plead with Bell about something. I couldn't be sure what because his voice was muffled by the closed door, but I distinctly heard a shot. The door opened. Billy had an easy grin on his face as he strolled in, carrying a ring of keys in his blood-soaked hands. He dropped them on the desk and went for the shotgun Ollinger had carelessly left in the office. Billy smashed the window with the butt of the gun and shouted, "Hello, Bob!" He fired, then shouted, "Good-bye, Bob!" He grinned at me. "Best dollar-eighty I ever spent."Billy walked over the desk to retrieve the keys. He fumbled with them for a bit before the chains unlocked and fell away. Billy cursed under his breath, rubbing his wrists, which were raw and bruised. I held out my arms and was released in seconds. Billy sprinted out the door. I followed him, doing my best to keep up, my legs stiff from being confined. We crashed down the steps, jumping the last seven or so because that's where Bell's body lay. I took a quick peek at the message Billy had daubed on the wall in Bell's blood: "Garrett's Place." I hadn't a clue what that meant, but this was hardly the time to ask questions. Outside, townspeople were beginning to realize what had happened. I leapt onto Storm's back and he began to gallop almost before I'd gotten situated. Billy tore after me on Golden Boy."Quit nappin' on the job, Bob!" Billy yelled with his trademark laugh.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Billy and I rode to the town of Old Fort Sumner, where Billy had told everyone to go wait for him if we got lost or separated. We tied our horses up in front of a saloon called Beever's Place. Billy said it was run by a friend of his, and we'd be safe there, or at least as safe as we ever were. Rather than go through the front door, Billy pulled me around back, where the ashcans were kept. I had no idea why he was doing this, except that he'd always had a flair for the dramatic. We pushed open the creaky back door and found ourselves inside a storeroom. A curtain ahead led into a private parlor. I peeked through it. Hendry was sitting at a table, eating a meal prepared by Beever's numerous Mexican wives. Chavez was sitting against a wall, breathing heavily and glistening with sweat. It wasn't terribly warm, so I instantly knew something was wrong with him. Of course, Dave was nowhere to be found; I had a feeling we'd seen the last of him. Billy stepped in front of me and opened the curtain. "Buenos tardes, amigos.""You're not dead," Hendry said dumbly."Do I look dead?" chuckled Billy. "You boys shoulda seen the short work I made of Bob Ollinger. Spread him out like Tularosa." He laughed for a second, then helped himself to a little food from Hendry's plate. "Listen good, everybody, 'cause this our master plan," Billy said through his mouthful. "There's a herd of slow elk resting at Greschelowski's sheep camp. We're gonna cut 'em, then ride for Canada. Chavez, make sure the horses get watered. Hendry, you--""I'll be staying here," Chavez interrupted."If you stay here, then Garrett'll take you." Billy warned."Garrett already took me." Chavez said flatly.I literally felt my heart stop at these words. It just couldn't be...Chavez wasn't dying...that would be too much on top of everything else that had happened so far. Billy's face took on a concerned expression. He lowered himself into a chair, resting his crossed arms on the back of it. When?" he wanted to know."When he took Doc."I pressed in for a closer look as Billy gently brushed aside Chavez's coat. Chavez had wrapped his scarf around his stomach, which was oozing a steady trickle of blood.“That’s a bad shot, Chavez,” said Billy. "Man gets shot like that..." Chavez gazed at Billy with sad eyes, resigned to his fate. “It’s over.” Billy stomped toward the table, and in one angry motion, turned it over; Hendry's supper plate fell to the floor and broke. Billy ran a frustrated hand through his hair. He turned back to Chavez."It ain't supposed to be you sittin' there like that," said Billy, tears forming in his blue eyes. "It's supposed to be me.""There's gotta be somethin' you can do for him," Hendry said desperately to me. “You know about doctorin' 'n such.”I crouched down to get a better view. It wasn’t a wound from a handgun; his belly was peppered with what was likely buckshot. I felt his back, but there was no blood to indicate any of the pellets had come out of him. The holes were obviously infected and Chavez had lost a large amount of blood. With gut shots, it was always a roll of the dice, but Chavez was my best friend in the world as well as the man I loved. If there was even the tiniest chance of saving his life, I intended to take it. Billy shook his head sadly and went outside, choking back sobs. I swiveled toward Hendry. “Help me!” I barked. We used our coats to make a semi-comfortable bed for Chavez. His forehead was practically on fire. I whipped my bandanna off and soaked it in my canteen, then used the wet cloth to bathe his forehead. I had to bring down his fever before I could even consider messing with any of the shot."I need some whiskey!" I yelled at Hendry once Chavez's skin felt cooler.Hendry produced a bottle from his saddlebags, which were hanging on his chair. I undressed Chavez's wound and poured the whiskey over it. He winced and shut his eyes, but he didn't cry out. I examined the wound for a third time. None of the shot appeared to be in very deep, so maybe I wouldn't have to use my knife to dig for it. It was possible I could just apply some pressure around the wound's edges and pull the shot out. I opened up his shirt, astonished by both the amount of dried blood on his body and the fact that he hadn't already bled to death."Hold him down," I ordered. "This is gonna hurt like hell."I found a piece of the broken table leg and slid it between Chavez's teeth, a technique my father used to control the pain of village women as they gave birth. Hendry knelt beside Chavez, pinning his shoulders against the floor. I put my fingers around one of the holes and pinched. It was difficult to keep a grip on it because it rose and fell with Chavez's rapid breathing. And my hands were shaky. The first few pellets came out easily without much more bleeding; the others were in further."Listen to me, Jose," I said in as soothing a voice as I could. "I have to get this buckshot out, but I need you to do something. Take a deep breath and hold it in for as long as you can." I knew he wouldn't be able to with that table leg in his mouth, so I motioned for Hendry to remove it. I waited until Chavez took his deep breath before I started pinching again. The process took longer than I thought it would, so I whispered words of encouragement.“Okay. We're almost there. Just keep holding it. Here we go..."A piece of shot slipped into my fingers just as Chavez found he couldn't hold his breath any longer. He fell into a coughing fit as I quickly covered the injury, which was bleeding afresh, with Hendry's scarf. I repeated the steps of removing shot for what seemed like hours, Chavez finding it harder each time to hold his breath. Once I was finished, I washed his stomach, poured more whiskey over the raw skin, and covered it with the cleanest piece of cloth I could find."Could you go ask Beever for a bowl of broth?" I asked Hendry.While he was in the bar, I dug through Father's medicine pouch to find the powder Father used as a painkiller. The stuff had a real bitter taste to it, so I knew I would have to trick Chavez to get it in him. Hendry returned with a steaming bowl. I sprinkled the powder over it. Gently feeding Chavez reminded me of the first time I had saved his life, when he lay starving and weak on John Tunstall's sofa. It seemed as though that had happened a lifetime ago. "What about Garrett?" Chavez asked. "He's going to find us.""Let me and Hendry worry about that part for now," I said. "We have to stay here until you're strong enough to move. If we don't, you could die."Chavez nodded slowly in understanding before exhaustion and shock overtook him.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
I yawned heartily as I awoke the next morning, every inch of me cold and stiff from sleeping on the tavern floor. I immediately glanced toward Chavez. He was breathing much easier now, eyes still closed. I gave silent thanks to the Great Spirit for giving him such strength. I started for the main room of Beever's Place to get some breakfast for myself. I wanted to wake Chavez so we could share the meal, but I thought it best to let him sleep.As I entered the bar, I expected to find Billy perched on a stool, perhaps using the bottles of alcohol for target practice. But I didn't see him. I took Billy's usual spot at the bar. Billy's pal Beever, a scruffy, snaggletoothed character, ambled over to me."Doin' all right this mornin', Riddle?" Beever asked. "How's your breed friend?"I let the insult slide. "Made it through the night. I guess he's gonna be okay."Beever leaned across the bar slightly, looking curiously at me. "What the hell kinda hocus-pocus you carryin' in that satchel? By rights, that breed oughta be dead and buried."I glared at him."Sorry," Beever apologized, not looking like he meant it. "Forgot you was a half-breed yourself."With an effort, I restrained my temper. I hated the term "breed" almost as much as I hated what L.G. Murphy and his boys had stood for. Beever, finally getting it through his head that I felt insulted, asked very politely if I wanted anything."Coffee," I replied. "And some bacon, if you got it."Beever barked something in Spanish at the nearest of his wives, who immediately disappeared into a small side room. He handed me a mug of something that smelled vaguely like coffee, but looked like mud from the bottom of the Pecos River. It was bitter and did the job of waking me up. After a short stretch of time, Beever set down a plate containing several pieces of bacon and a slice of blackened toast. I put some of the bacon in my mouth. It tasted like saddle leather, but I was too hungry to care."Say, Beever," I said once my plate was clean. "You haven't seen Billy around, have you?" Beever shrugged. "Ain't seen Kid since last night. Tossed a few back, then he left.""Know where he went?"Beever snorted. "I ain't his daddy. Try askin' Paulita Maxwell or one o' the other gals 'round here."That fit. Billy had given Chavez up for dead yesterday. When Billy was upset about something, he sought comfort in the arms (and often the bed) of some woman. I headed out to the streets of Old Fort Sumner to look for Billy, eager to tell him that Chavez was going to make it. The sun was high in the sky, so the whole town was out and about. Men were talking with each other, kids were throwing sticks for some mangy coydogs, and women were grinding corn. I approached the first woman who caught my attention. I asked her if she'd seen El Chivato recently."He was dancing with Paulita Maxwell at the fiesta last night," the woman replied in perfect English. "Then he disappeared with her." The woman pointed down the street, at a small dwelling near the town icehouse. "Paulita lives there." "Thank you, ma'am." I said.I walked to the house the woman had pointed out. Paulita invited me inside, and I found myself in her bedroom. I hadn't meant to end up there, but the house really was that small."You are Furioso Criba," said Paulita. She seemed less sure of her English, but there was a purr in her voice that men no doubt found appealing. "You looking for Billito." She gestured to the tiny bed. "We make love last night. My first time. He was so...""Spare me the details," I said quickly. "What happened after that?""Billito act very strange. I think maybe his belly empty. I send him to icehouse for beef. Billito not come back."I nodded along with Paulita's account. My eyes landed on the wooden chair beside the bed. A holster lay across the back of it, holding a pair of gleaming Colt Peacemakers. I knew in my gut something was wrong; Billy never went anywhere without his guns. I followed a set of bare footprints out to the icehouse and entered it."Anybody in here?" I asked in a hoarse whisper.I looked down at the dirt a few feet away from the door. There was a dark stain on it. Blood. I picked up some of the dirt and brought it to my nose. It was blood, too far away from the sides of beef to be from an animal. It might even be Billy's. I sifted the dirt through my fingers, looking around for more, but there was no blood trail. No drag marks, not even another set of footprints. It was like Billy had just melted off the face of the earth."What the hell?" I wondered aloud.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
I went inside the town's livery stables, walking down the aisle until I found Storm Cloud's stall. He nickered happily, bobbing his head up and down when he saw me. He eagerly sniffed my clothes to see if I had come bearing treats, and seemed disappointed when he realized I hadn't. Storm was still saddled, so I entered the stall and tightened the girth around his belly. He flattened his ears and jerked away from me."Sorry, boy," I murmured, stroking his forehead.I removed his rope bridle from a hook in the wall and guided it over his nose. Using his empty feed bucket as a step, I swung myself into the saddle. Storm turned his head toward me, looking betrayed."I know you're tired, boy," I said. "But we have to find Billy."I hated to leave Chavez alone, weak as he was, but I felt I had to know what had happened. Billy was my pal too. If he'd been shot and crawled off somewhere to die, I didn't want him to be alone. I knew he'd do the same for me or Chavez. The problem was, with no blood trail to follow, I didn't know where to start looking. Now more than ever, I would have to rely on the gut instinct Father had told me to follow since I was a little girl.I closed my eyes and tried to clear my mind. I sat absolutely still for an indeterminate amount of time, letting the sun warm my face and the breeze ruffle my hair. A vision slowly came to me: Billy lying in the desert, bleeding, a gang of vultures surrounding him. There were tall cliffs on three sides of him, brush at the base of the cliffs. The Spirit Horse stood patiently in the distance...I jerked abruptly out of my trance, feeling unsettled but pleased. Never in my life had I had such a vivid vision. Certain of what I was doing, I guided Storm to the east. Several miles of desert later, I reached a canyon with only one way in or out. There was a long stretch of paths, surrounded by cliffs like those in my vision. This had to be the place."Billy!" I started to holler. "Billy! Billy! It's Serena! Are you here?"The only reply was the echo of my own voice. I pressed on, keeping my eyes sharp. There was a possibility Billy was unconscious or too weak to yell back. I shouted his name until my throat hurt, but I never saw him. I sighed slightly. Maybe I hadn't had a real vision after all. Another sound echoed 'round the canyon, slight but still detectable: someone coughing. I followed the sound to a clump of brush. There, I found Billy. His face was sunburned and the dirt near him was stained red."'Rena," Billy said weakly. "How'd you find me here?"The better question was how the hell had Billy ended up in this canyon under his own power. It didn't take a genius to figure he was severely wounded."That cowardly bastard Pat Garrett shot me in the back," Billy moaned. "Goddamn it, it hurts, 'Rena."After a brief struggle, I was able to stand Billy up; with considerable effort, I hoisted him into the saddle. I picked up Storm's reins and led him out of the canyon. The trek to Old Fort Sumner took twice as long as it might have because I had to stop and make sure Billy wasn't falling off. For the second time in two days, I was astounded by the fact that an injured pal was still breathing.By the time we reached Beever's Place, it was almost too dark to see. Beever carried Billy into the bar to try and work on him. His Mexican wives began to sob hysterically when they saw how badly hurt he was. I returned to the private parlor to check on Chavez."He's awake now," Hendry reported, "and he says he's hungry." "Supper may have to wait," I said. "Billy's been shot. Beever and his wives are lookin' after him.""Is he gonna make it?" Hendry asked worriedly."He will." said Chavez with conviction. "He's the luckiest white-eye in New Mexico."'Everybody runs out of luck at some point,' I thought.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
A while later, one of Beever's wives stepped out into the bar. She talked rapidly in Spanish, pointing repeatedly at me."Kid's askin' after you," said Beever through the cigar clamped between his teeth.Beever's wife got behind me and shoved me through the curtain that separated the bar from the parlor. There Billy lay on the table, his bed fashioned from our coats and an old sheet."Are you my guardian angel?" Billy asked me.I didn't need the salty odor of sweat to tell me he was out of his mind from fever; I could see it in his eyes. I looked around for some water to cool him down with, but there was none in the parlor. Didn't those damn women know any better?"You must be an angel," Billy continued. "Ain't never seen a real woman pretty as you. Am I in heaven?""Not quite," I said."I'm thirsty. I need some whiskey."I walked back through the curtain, went back behind the bar, and grabbed a glass. I went out to the well and filled it with water. Whiskey was the last thing Billy needed in his current state. He spilled a good portion of the water on himself when he grabbed the glass from me, but gave me a betrayed look as he realized it wasn't whiskey. I checked Father's medicine pouch for some more of the healing powder. There was less than half a dose left, but I needed to try anyway. I gave in to Billy's demand for a small shot of whiskey, figuring that was the only way to make him try it. Billy didn't put too much faith in medicine, wouldn't even take laudanum for a toothache.I quickly discovered mixing Father's powder with whiskey wasn't a smart thing to do. Billy stayed up half the night, moaning that his belly hurt and accusing me of poisoning him. In the morning, Beever's wives came to change his bandage and Billy threw up all over the smallest one. He still looked like he had one foot in the grave. I escaped to the hallway. "Goddamn it," I muttered angrily to myself. "Goddamn it. I'm so fargin' stupid." If Billy died because I had mixed his medicine with something I shouldn't have, I could never forgive myself.A very tense three days followed with Billy drifting in and out of both consciousness and sanity; his stomach continued to bother him. On the fourth morning, Billy's fever broke and his stomachache finally went away. Celsa, one of Beever's other wives, made him breakfast. I was about to have a morning cup of coffee with Chavez when Beever's wife Juanita delivered the news. "Chivato looking for you,” she added to me. I was relieved that Billy was all right, but at the same time, I worried that he'd be angry with me. I didn’t know how much Billy remembered of his ordeal; he might not realize I hadn't intended to nearly kill him. I grasped Chavez's hand so he could come with me, hopefully to ease my anxiety. Juanita shook her head."Just you," she said to me. "Chivato was very eh-cee-fic."In some trepidation, I entered the private parlor. Billy was sitting at the tiny table, deeply immersed in eating.'Celsa must be a damn fast cook to get it to him this soon,' I thought.Billy noticed my presence. Slowly, he finished what was in his mouth and wiped his face on his napkin. "'Lo, 'Rena," was all he said before returning his attention to his plate."I'm so sorry," I said suddenly, my voice wavering out of control. "I swear I didn't know. I wasn't trying to make you sick.""I was sick?" Billy said, looking genuinely puzzled. "I don't remember bein' sick. All I know is my back's killin' me. Musta woke up on the wrong side of Paulita's bed." He chuckled and then made a small humming noise. “Sit down, ‘Rena. I’ll have Celsa fix you a plate.”He summoned her and they had a brief conversation in Spanish. When my food arrived, the bacon and toast were both recognizable; there was even a scoop of eggs. Celsa was obviously a better cook than whoever normally made my breakfast. “Oh, by the way, thanks, ‘Rena,” said Billy with a soft smile. “I woulda died like a dog out there if it wasn’t for you.”
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
While Chavez was recovering from his wound, he and I made a decision that would change both of our lives forever.We rode back to Warm Springs to visit my father.Chavez introduced himself and asked, "Sir, will you give me permission to marry your daughter?"Father stood silently. Chavez was of Navajo and Mexican origin, not a full-blooded Apache. It was considered undesirable for an Indian of any tribe to marry someone who wasn't full-blooded. This fact had nearly earned my father himself exile.“Do you love Ayasha?” Father asked Chavez. “More than my own life,” he answered without hesitation."Do you love this man, Daughter?" Father asked me."With all my heart," I replied.Father nodded. "Then I see no reason to stop you."Father took Chavez aside and the pair of them began haggling over what my dowry would consist of. Father decided on several blankets, a barrel of grain, some firearms and ammunition, and fifteen pounds of beef. It was expensive to be sure, but I knew Chavez would give anything in the world to make me his bride. He went to the nearest town to fetch the supplies, while I dashed off an excited letter to Billy. I hoped he was still at Beever's because I didn't know how the hell else to get in touch with him. Billy never stayed in one place for too long.When Chavez returned, weary but triumphant, Father grinned and embraced him. He announced to the rest of the tribe that his beloved daughter, Ayasha, was to be wed. There was much excitement at this news.The tribe spent weeks preparing for the wedding, during which time I received a letter from Billy:
Dear 'Rena,
It's about time you and Chavez got hitched! I'm so happy for you I could bust. I wish I could come to the wedding, but I don't think I'll be able to make it. Anyhows, I'm writing to tell you that Susan McSween found a copy of John's will while she was cleaning up after the fire. John said you were the closest thing to a daughter he ever had, so he left his house and all the land to you.
The ranch is gonna seem big and lonely at first, but I bet you two will fill it up with little ones in no time.
I wish you both the best of luck. Tell Chavez I'll buy him some whiskey to celebrate next time I see him.
Your pal always,
Billy
I swore my eyes were playing tricks on me the first time I read it. It was a fact that John and I had been very close, but I never imagined he'd leave his whole ranch to me. He really was the kindest old man I ever knew.On the first really fine day of spring, Father married Chavez and I. The tribe cheered wildly for us, and I thought my heart might burst with happiness. The wedding day was rounded off with games of skill such as archery, a delicious banquet, and an evening of spirited dancing. By the end of it, I was worn out from excitement. I badly wanted to retire to the wikiup Chavez had built for us, but I was uneasy about what would happen once we were inside it. Despite Murphy's best efforts, I had left the saloon business with my virtue intact and wasn't sure about what parting with it entailed."Querida, you're about to fall into the fire," said Chavez, gently placing his hands on my shoulders to steady me. "You need to rest."I let him guide me toward the wikiup. He opened the flap and lifted me up. Holding me, he crossed the threshold, depositing me on a blanket. Butterflies began to flap madly in my stomach as I watched him undress for bed. While his back was turned, I slipped out of my wedding dress and under the blanket. I lay flat on my back and held the blanket tightly around my body, uncomfortable with my nakedness. By then, Chavez had removed all of his clothes too; I shyly averted my eyes, unsure how to react to the sight of him. Chavez joined me beneath the blanket and took me into his arms, resting a hand on my chest."Querida, your heart is beating very fast," he said. "Are you feeling all right?""Yeah," I said, sucking in a deep breath to soothe myself. "I'll be fine"Chavez could usually guess what was troubling me and this time was no exception. "You're nervous about lying with me." He toyed with a strand of my hair for a moment before he spoke again. "I don't want to make you do this if you're not ready. I want you to be comfortable. I love you and I'm ready whenever you are. Just knowing I’m your husband is enough for me right now, Ayasha.”Hearing my tribal name after so many years as Serena was a strange but wonderful thing. He kissed me on the cheek and I felt his breathing change as he fell into a light sleep. I lay awake beside him for I don't know how long. Once I no longer felt like I was going to be sick, I tapped his shoulder."Your heart slowed down," Chavez observed, rolling over and touching my chest again. "Are you ready, Ayasha?""Yes.""I won't hurt you," Chavez promised before giving me a kiss deeper than any we had shared before. Under the soft fur blankets, the two of us quickly became one. Words can never describe the feelings I had, except to say I became a woman that night, in a flash of pain and then overwhelming pleasure. Of all the things I'd done and couldn't undo, my marriage to Chavez and losing my virginity to him was the one I could live with the best.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
During the days that followed the consummation of my marriage, the village women crowded around me and told me the signs to look for, signs that would mean I was carrying a child. I took note in my head of the symptoms and waited. As the weeks went by, I didn't become nauseous in the mornings (quite the opposite, I was ravenous); my belly remained stubbornly flat.Chavez and I packed up to move back to John Tunstall's ranch, the place we had both called home for so long. I was quite surprised at the house's appearance when we rode up. Someone had obviously been taking care of it.'But who?' I wondered as Chavez lifted me into his arms and carried me up the porch.My eyes fell upon a set of initials carved into the white-washed adobe wall: W.H.B."William H. Bonney," Chavez and I said together, laughing.We unpacked the few belongings we had and brought them up to my old bedroom.Chavez and I spent many nights in that bed, trying to start a family, but it was in vain. I never showed the slightest sign of being with child. I began to worry that something was terribly wrong. Lincoln didn't have a practicing doctor at the time; I had to ride two towns away to visit one. Chavez always worried about my health, even if it was only a slight head cold, so I told Chavez I was going to visit my father. No need to alarm him.Before going into the office, I put on a dress and pinned up my hair to avoid the possibility of being recognized. The doctor was a kindly-looking old fellow named Robbins. He closed the door to his office and instructed me to sit on the table. I needed a leg up, but managed to do so. "What's the matter with you, m'dear?" he asked.It was embarrassing to have to tell this to a man. I twisted my simple gold wedding band around on my finger, the ones we'd bought to keep the nosy townsfolk from gossiping. "My husband and I are trying to...have children," I explained. "We've been trying for quite some time and...well, I'm still not with child. I was just wondering what might be wrong."Doc Robbins nodded and began to check me over: my temperature, my pulse, my breathing. Then he asked me to lie down and he gently prodded my stomach with his hands. He expressed some concern about being able to feel my ribs, inquiring if my husband and I were poor and unable to afford food."Well, we're not exactly rich, but we always manage," I said."Have you always been this thin?" Doc Robbins wanted to know.I nodded."Your hips are rather narrow too," he noted. "And in trying to start a family, you've never felt anything that caused you to suspect you were with child?""No," I replied. Doc Robbins sighed. "I'm sorry to have to tell you this, but there is a high possibility that you're barren. Unfortunately, that cannot be cured."I thanked Doc Robbins, then rode out to Warm Springs to see Father. It never hurt to get a second opinion. Father and I talked. In a tone of great sadness, he agreed with the white doctor's findings. He warned me not to tell Chavez about it; a woman being unable to have children was grounds for divorce in our culture. Father suspected that was likely the same for the Navajo. As days and then weeks passed, the weight of the secret became almost as heavy a burden as if I did have a child in my womb. I spent increasing amounts of time in the study with John's old books, speaking to Chavez only if necessary. I lost all interest in lying with him at night or being touched. It didn't take him long to figure out something was bothering me.One night, while I was staring at the pages of A Tale of Two Cities, I heard a knock on the wall. Chavez was leaning against the study's doorjamb. His clothes were dusty, his shirt unbuttoned halfway, bare chest gleaming with sweat. Not long ago, his appearance would have filled me with feverish lust. I felt completely indifferent."Reading again?" Chavez asked me."Yes," I answered evasively, not looking up.He rubbed his stomach. "Is supper ready?"I slapped myself in the forehead. I knew I'd forgotten something!"No, and I apologize," I said. "I'm just a bit tired today and it slipped my mind." I laid down my book. "I can start on it now and we might be able to eat before midnight.""Don't trouble yourself if you're tired," said Chavez. "I'll just have an apple or a leftover biscuit. Querida, are you all right?""I haven't been feeling well.” That much was true. I just hoped he wouldn’t ask why."Do you want me to help you to bed?" Chavez inquired.My lip trembled at the word "bed." I closed my eyes and let out a breath.“It's not easy for me to tell you this, so please listen." I said, following him into the kitchen."I'm listening," Chavez replied, popping a cold biscuit in his mouth."I went to a doctor, then I went to see my father." I said. "They both said...they said I can't have children.”“Oh, querida,” said Chavez, his voice tight.Tears began to flow. “And Father didn't want me to tell you because he was afraid you'd leave me.""You know I wouldn't do that," he said, pulling me close.My body involuntarily stiffened. "I shouldn't have fought in the Lincoln War. That's why this is happening. All that riding, those nights we went hungry...""It is not your fault." Chavez said. "It isn't."I started to sob. The terrible secret being out in the open made it seem even more real. Chavez rubbed my back and murmured soothing words until my eyes ached from crying. "I'm not going anywhere," he promised in a soft but fierce voice. “I love you, Ayasha, always.”
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
I hadn't been sure how I'd handle pregnancy, childbirth, and ultimately motherhood, so I should have been relieved at the news. But I wasn't; I was devastated by it and became depressed. I left the running of the ranch and store to Chavez. Every terrible thing that I had been witness to over the past two years came to mind constantly. I barely slept because I was alternately tormented by nightmares of my worst memories and wistful, happy dreams about holding a newborn baby in my arms. These dreams were so vivid I'd wake up in a cold sweat and break down in silent tears. At this point, I thought I was losing my sanity. My feelings of shame about being barren started to interfere with my marriage. I had problems sleeping in the same bed with my husband; lovemaking was certainly out of the question. I was fortunate that I'd married Chavez, because he was very patient with me, respected my feelings, and would always lend an ear. He even took to sleeping in the parlor more often than not so that I could be alone. As weeks passed, I began to realize I'd probably have fewer nightmares if I was tired out from a long day on the cattle drive.One afternoon, I marched out to the barn. I spent some quality time with Storm Cloud, grooming and stroking him. I put on his bridle, jumped on his bare back, and left the barn at full gallop. My senses reawakened so suddenly, so intensely that it was like being reborn. The wind whipped my hair off my face. My thigh muscles tingled with the effort of remaining tight so I wouldn't lose my grip on Storm's sides; the pure, fierce strength of his four legs pounding beneath me was intoxicating. I pulled on the reins as his breathing became labored. Storm slowed to a stop. I lay against his back, letting my legs relax again. I closed my eyes and let the sun warm my face, listening to the peaceful sound of Storm Cloud chomping on grass as he grazed. I waited for him to finish before sitting back up. The sun was low in the sky when we returned to the barn. Chavez was bedding Sparks Flying down for the night. I grinned as I dismounted, still exhilarated from my ride."I'm glad to see you're feeling better, querida," said Chavez, planting a soft kiss on my lips. "You were worrying me."I felt something bump up against my leg. I looked down and realized Chavez had several dead rattlesnakes tucked into his belt."You brought supper back," I observed. "You always did know how to turn my head."He slipped an arm around my waist and we walked back to the house. Neither of us were terribly hungry that night, so we cleaned about three of the snakes. We saved the remaining four for another occasion. Once my appetite was satisfied, I gathered up my knife collection and headed to the backyard. I tossed them at a fencepost until my shoulders ached and I lost my good throwing dagger in the bushes. It was fairly late by then; Chavez was still in the kitchen, looking out the window. He seemed sleepy, but I knew he wouldn't go to bed until he saw me come inside. As I walked up the stairs. Chavez questioned me with his eyes. I motioned for him to follow. In our bedroom, I stepped behind the Oriental-style folding screen to undress. I stood on my toes, peeked over the top, and saw Chavez taking his clothes off. He went to the bed, fluffed up the pillows, and got under our quilt. A different sort of hunger stirred within me. Not only had it been a while since we'd slept in the same bed, it was even longer since the last time he and I were together, flesh to flesh. "Chavez," I said from behind the screen, "how do you feel?""Tired," he said with a sigh.I stepped out into view. Chavez rolled over, his eyes widening when he saw that I had stripped naked."Not that tired," he amended quickly.I smiled at him, then climbed into bed, welcoming my husband to me with kisses. Chavez gently rolled us so he was on top. He stroked my nipples with his thumbs and planted a kiss between my breasts. He moved his head further down, his hands never leaving my chest, trailing kisses down the length of my belly. It was a sign that, even though it would never swell from within to create a new life, it was still his favorite part of me. I could have wept. When Chavez kissed a particularly sensitive strip of skin just under my belly button, I felt a trickle of fluid from between my legs. “Are you ready for me?” he asked, noticing."Yes," I said, my heart racing from excitementChavez assumed a semi-sitting position, giving me a full view of his desire. He caressed my legs as he carefully pushed my knees apart. “Let me do all the work, querida,” he said.Chavez thrust once, partially entering me. He began a slow rhythm. I opened my legs wider to accommodate him. Each brush of his skin on mine made me even slicker. Sweat was pouring off both our bodies. I arched my back and felt my husband buried to the hilt in me. That beautiful, perfect fullness I had denied myself for too long a spell. I moaned low in my throat. “Faster, harder,” I begged.Chavez maintained the same pace. “I want this to last as long as it can.”He covered my mouth with his own, our tongues intertwining, just as we were joined below the waist. Chavez grunted softly with each thrust. My own breath was a series of smothered gasps. Flames crackled in my lower belly, making me dizzy. I bucked my hips impatiently.“Relax, querida,” he whispered, then repeated. “Let me do the work. I just want you to feel good."I cried out in a mixture of ecstasy and frustration; I felt good, but I needed to come. Chavez sighed as he released deep inside me. My legs shook. He gently squeezed my bottom. I tightened around him, on fire all over. I moaned and yelled his name. My chest heaved. "Te quiero, siempre," said Chavez, kissing my forehead. (I love you, always)."Te quiero, siempre," I echoed. Not yet sated, I added, "Por favor no se detenga." (Please don't stop).We made love until we were both exhausted, then fell asleep in each other's arms.