of. There should be more than enough in that valise
over there to cover expenses and see I get buried.
Whatever is left, give to Clara.”
Jake glanced at the carpet bag.
“They find you like this they’ll kill you easy as they
would a dog.”
“Mister, you’re not telling me nothing I don’t al-
ready know. I just don’t want Clara in the middle of it.”
“What do you want to do?”
“I need another favor.”
“Go ahead.”
So William Sunday told him what the favor was.
“You sure that’s how you want it played?”
“I’m sure. Now if you’d be so kind as to help me
get dressed and hand me that bottle of laudanum I’ll
try not to ask any more of you.”
Jake had wanted to ride out and check on Karen
Sunflower and Toussaint, to find out how her horses
had ended up in Sam Toe’s corral. But he hadn’t
counted on the bounty hunters.
“You better let me go over and keep Clara from
coming here,” Jake said.
William Sunday seemed in too much pain to answer.
“Stay put till I get back,” Jake said.
“Where the hell would I go?” the gunfighter said
almost derisively.
Jake met Clara just as she was coming out of her
house with the children in tow. She had a small basket
with food she’d planned to take to her father for his
breakfast.
“Turn around and go back inside,” Jake said.
She looked startled, her eyes full of questions.
The children put up a slight fuss as they were
herded back inside.
Jake took Karen aside and said, “They’ve come for
him.”
“Who?”
“Bounty hunters,” he said. “Three of them.”
“Can’t you arrest them, run them out of town?”
“I’ve got no reason to arrest them,” he said. “They
haven’t done anything yet.”
“But they will.”
Jake saw the children were trying to listen to the
adult conversation. He leaned closer to her and whis-
pered: “He wants it to end. He said he’s glad they
came sooner rather than later—that he doesn’t think
he can stand going on like he is.”
He heard the sob break inside her.
“I have to go and see him,” she said. “Just one last
time.”
He shook his head.
“He’d prefer that you didn’t, Clara.”
“But . . .”
“He doesn’t want to have to worry about you and
the girls. You need to respect his right to have it this
way.”
“Then he’s just going to let them walk in and shoot
him?”
“Not exactly.”
Again he could see the questions filling her eyes.
“I’ll do what I can for him, Clara, but he’s got his
mind set on doing things his way . . .”
Tears spilled down her cheek then. She’d promised
herself she’d never again cry for William Sunday, but
here she was doing that very thing.
“Go and tell him I forgive him.”
Jake felt an unexpected tenderness toward her then
and it surprised him that what he did next was kiss
her wet cheek.
“I’ll come back for the boy when this is over,” he
said softly and went out the door.
*
*
*
“Walk with me to Dex’s grave,” Karen said.
“You sure you want to do that?”
She looked at him with that fiery determination he
remembered all too well.
“Okay,” he said. “You’ll need a coat; it’s a lot
colder outside than it looks.”
He got her a coat hanging from a peg in the mud
room and held it for her to put on.
“Winter will be all over us pretty soon,” she said.
“Snow’s pretty, but the older I get the less I care for it.”
Toussaint held the door for her, then closed it
behind them and walked alongside her out to the
grave.
The dry grass was turning the color of a fawn and
the sharp wind rippled through it causing it to sound
like whispers. Their boots crunched in it and the grass
stems swished against their dungarees. The headstone
stood bravely against whatever elements found it and
Karen was pleased she’d spent the amount of money
she had on it, wanting it to outlast time itself.
They came close to it and stood there and Tous-
saint caught glances of Karen out the corner of his
eye. In spite of her bruised face and swollen lips he
thought her a magnificently resolute and handsome
woman and something rose in his throat he had to
