“Don’t go,” she said. “Don’t leave me.”
“No,” he said. “I won’t leave you.”
He sat with her until she fell asleep, then he went
into the other room and made himself a pot of coffee
and wished he had a little whiskey to go in it, for his
nerves were about as frayed as they ever had been. He
couldn’t get the sight of the bruises he’d seen on her
out of his mind or what they must have done to her
for her to suffer bruises like that.
He didn’t know how he was going to get her be-
yond this thing that happened to her. He knew she
was tough, but what woman was so tough she could
get over a thing like this? He didn’t know how he was
going to get himself beyond this thing.
Ultimately he told himself, he’d find the ones who
did this to her and kill them. But it wasn’t anger that
filled him at this very moment as much as it was
grieving for her.
He went and stood at the window and watched the
gray light come over the land. Winter had already be-
gun its slow steady march on the land. There would
be occasional warm days, but soon enough the snow
would lay like a thick white blanket over everything
and the creeks would look black running through it,
and silence would be everywhere. Time would come
to a long halt.
It might be a good time for her to get over what
happened to her: when things were slow and quiet.
He saw the gravestone of his son and knew now
why Karen had him dig the grave where it was—so
she could see it from her kitchen window. He sipped
the coffee and watched the light grow and spread over
everything. He wasn’t worried about finding the men
who hurt Karen. He’d find them sooner or later and
they’d be lucky to be laid down in graves marked by a
stone, or that anyone would care to visit and remem-
ber them by.
Such men did not garner favor.
“She said town was this way, right?” Zack said after
they’d been riding two hours.
They came to a creek that ran deep and green and
looked like a place that had fish in it. Zeb rode the lit-
tle horse and Zack and Zane doubled on the larger one.
“That’s what she said,” Zeb replied as they reined
in and allowed the horses to drink.
They stood around, each with his own thoughts,
Zane wishing it had never happened. He had a sense
of himself that didn’t fit with the others. Zeb was fox
smart and Zack was just Zack, dumb as a box of old
Mexican pesos and would go along with anything
Zeb told him to. And he mostly did as well, except
for this last thing. It was like it wasn’t happening so
much to her, what they were doing to her, as it was to
him. The way she fought them at first was one thing,
but when she suddenly just gave up and quit fighting,
that took all the heart out of him to see her like that
and to see his brothers set upon her anyway. It was
the worse thing he’d ever been part of.
He stood there looking down in the creek water
and saw his reflection in it staring back up at him
only the reflection was darker and he couldn’t see his
eyes and it troubled him he couldn’t see his eyes.
He heard his brothers talking about the woman.
He walked off far enough so he couldn’t hear what
they were saying. And when Zeb called to him asking
where he was going, he said, “I need to squat off in
these weeds.”
He stayed there squatting on his heels until they
called him that they were leaving and if he wanted to
ride he better come on and reluctantly that’s what he
did because he didn’t know what else to do. He
climbed on the back of the big horse behind Zack and
went with them thinking about the woman.
He’d never been a part of anything like that before
and he never wanted to be again and the only way he
wouldn’t was to come up with a plan to shuck them
and go on his own.
The land lay ahead of them as empty as a poor
man’s pockets.
26
The kids played on the schoolhouse floor with
wooden tops, April and May and the Swede boy.
The Swede boy looked like any other kid, except that
he wasn’t. Soon enough Jake knew he’d have to take
him down to the orphanage in Bismarck, probably as
early as the next day.
Jake had stopped by to tell Clara what he’d done
with her father.
“You put yourself at risk,” she said.
“No risk to me, less to you if he’s not here. Less to
the children.”
“I’ve asked Mrs. Merriweather to stop and look
after them after supper,” she said. “Her sons are in
my classroom.”
He took Clara aside and said, “I saw a stranger
ride into town earlier.”
“Do you think it might be someone who’s come
here for my father?”
