“I can’t,” he says. His face is blank. “I can’t leave her. I just can’t.”
The train is chugging forward now, gathering steam.
I glance behind me. The townsmen, armed with rifles, baseball bats, and sticks are surging forward. I look back at the train long enough to get a sense of speed, and count, praying to God that I’m right:
I scoop Walter up like a sack of flour and toss him inside. There’s a crash and a yelp as he hits the floor. I sprint beside the train and grasp the iron bar beside the door. I let the train pull me along for three long strides, and then use its velocity to vault up and inside.
My face skids across the bucking floorboards. When I realize I’m safe, I look for Walter, prepared for a fight.
He is huddled in the corner, crying.
WALTER IS INCONSOLABLE. He remains in the corner as I pull the trunks out and retrieve Camel. I manage the old man’s shave—a task that usually involves all three of us—and then drag him out to the area in front of the horses.
“Aw, come on, Walter,” says Camel. I’m holding him by his armpits, dangling his naked posterior over what Walter calls the honey bucket. “You did what you could.” He looks over his shoulder at me. “Hey, lower me a bit, would ya? I’m swinging in the breeze here.”
I shift my feet so they’re further apart, trying to lower Camel while keeping my back straight. Usually Walter takes care of this part because he’s the right height.
“Walter, I could use a hand here,” I say as a spasm shoots across my back.
“Shut up,” he says.
Camel looks back again, this time with a raised eyebrow.
“It’s okay,” I say.
“No, it’s not okay,” Walter yells from the corner. “Nothing’s okay! Queenie was all I had. You understand that?” His voice drops to whimper. “She was all I had.”
Camel waves his hand at me to indicate he’s finished. I shuffle over a couple of feet and lay him on his side.
“Now, that can’t be true,” says Camel as I clean him up. “A young fella like you’s gotta have somebody somewhere.”
“You don’t know nothing.”
“You ain’t got a mother somewhere?” says Camel, persisting.
“None I got a use for.”
“Now don’t you talk like that,” says Camel.
“Why the hell not? She sold me to this outfit when I was fourteen.” He glares at us. “And don’t you go looking at me like you feel sorry for me,” he snaps. “She was an old crow, anyway. Who the hell needs her.”
“What do you mean
“Well, I’m not exactly cut out for farmwork, am I? Just leave me the hell alone, will you?” He shuffles around so his back is to us.
I fasten Camel’s pants, grab him by the armpits, and haul him back into the room. His legs drag behind him, his heels scraping the floor.
“Man, oh man,” he says as I arrange him on the cot. “Ain’t that something?”
“You ready for some food?” I say, trying to change the subject.
“Naw, not yet. But a drop of whiskey would go down well.” He shakes his head sadly. “I ain’t never heard of a woman so coldhearted.”
“I can still hear you, you know,” barks Walter. “And besides, you ain’t got no talking room, old man. When was the last time you saw your son?”
Camel goes pale.
“Eh? Can’t answer that, can you?” continues Walter from outside the room. “Ain’t such a big difference in what you did and what my mother did, is there?”
“Yes there is,” shouts Camel. “There’s a world of difference. And how the hell do you know what I did, anyway?”
“You mentioned your son one night when you were tight,” I say quietly.
Camel stares at me for a moment. Then his face contorts. He raises a limp hand to his forehead and turns away from me. “Aw shit,” he says. “Aw shit. I never knew you knew,” he says. “You shoulda’ told me.”
“I thought you remembered,” I say. “Anyway, he didn’t say much. He just said you wandered off.”
“‘He just said’?” Camel’s head shoots around. “
I sink to the floor and rest my head on my knees. It’s shaping up to be a long night.
“What do you mean,
I sigh. “Yes, we got in touch with him.”
“When?”
“A while ago.”
He stares at me, stunned. “But why?”
“He’s meeting us in Providence. He’s taking you home.”
“Oh no,” says Camel, shaking his head vehemently. “Oh no he’s not.”
“Camel—”
“What the hell’d you go and do that for? You ain’t got no right!”
“We had no choice!” I shout. I stop, close my eyes, and collect myself. “We had no choice,” I repeat. “We had to do something.”
“I can’t go back! You don’t know what happened. They don’t want me no more.”
His lip quivers, and his mouth shuts. He turns his face away. A moment later, his shoulders start heaving.
“Aw hell,” I say. I raise my voice, shouting through the open door. “Hey, thanks Walter! You’ve been a big help tonight! Sure appreciate it!”
“Fuck off!” he answers.
I shut off the kerosene lamp and crawl over to my horse blanket. I lie down on its scratchy surface and then sit up again.
“Walter!” I shout. “Hey, Walter! If you’re not coming back in, I’m using the bedroll.”
There’s no answer.
“Did you hear me? I said I’m using the bedroll.”
I wait for a minute or two and then crawl across the floor.
Walter and Camel spend the night making the noises men make when they’re trying not to cry, and I spend the night punching my pillow up around my ears trying not to hear them.
• • •
I AWAKE TO MARLENA’S VOICE.
“Knock knock. May I come in?”
My eyes snap open. The train has stopped, and somehow I slept through it. I’m also startled because I was dreaming about Marlena, and for a moment I wonder if I’m still asleep.
“Hello? Anyone in there?”
I jerk up onto my elbows and look at Camel. He’s helpless on the cot, his eyes wide with fear. The interior door has stayed open all night. I leap up.
“Uh, hang on a second!” I rush out to meet her, pulling the door shut behind me.
She’s already climbing into the car. “Oh, hello,” she says, looking at Walter. He’s still huddled in the corner. “I was actually looking for you. Isn’t this your dog?”
Walter’s head snaps around.
Marlena leans over to release her, but before she can, Queenie squirms free, hitting the floor with a thunk. She scrabbles across the floor and leaps onto Walter, licking his face and wagging so hard she topples
