Eileen inhaled deeply, let out a cloud of smoke. The guardhouse less than fifty yards off, white shirts fanning out to meet Bendigo in the lead wagon.
'We could die in there,' she said.
'The thought had occurred to me.'
'It feels sort of ridiculous under the circumstances. Even more than usual. Putting on a play.'
'One could also die in bed tonight or have a horse fall on him, or God forbid be struck by lightning from a clear blue sky,' he said gently. 'That doesn't mean we shouldn't go on living.'
She looked at him, chucked her cigarette away, and put her arms around him, laying her head on his shoulder. He touched her hair tenderly. She liked the way he felt and wanted to cry but fought off the tears, reluctant to appear weak.
'Don't go and die on me just yet, all right?' she said. 'We've only just met, but I'm growing rather fond of you, you old bag of bones.'
'I will try to cooperate. But only because you insist,' he said with a laugh.
The wagons ahead slowed to a stop; Rymer, standing up and waving his hat, had a brief exchange with the guards before the gate was raised and the wagons waved through.
'You're supposed to be sick,' she reminded him.
Jacob handed her the reins and took his place in the rear before they reached the gate. Eileen returned the enthusiastic waves of the smiling guards as they passed under a sign that read WELCOME TO THE NEW CITY.
'Hello. Hello,' she called to them, then muttered through her dazzling smile, ' 'Nice to see you, too, you right bunch of sods. Keep smiling, that's good, you deranged pack of prairie weasels.'
The troupe drove through no-man's-land and down Main Street. Facades of all the buildings flanking them sparkled with fresh coats of whitewash; bright flowers in boxes underlined every window and chintz curtains softened their interiors. Plain well-crafted signs announced each building's purpose: dry goods, dentist, silver- and blacksmith, hotel, variety store. Smiling citizens stood outside each establishment on the scrubbed, planked sidewalks and waved happily to the passing wagons. Their shirts gleamed an immaculate white; they all looked healthy and clean.
Ahead on the left a crowd had gathered under a marquee outside the opera house, where a banner read: welcome penultimate players. A joyful cheer went up as the wagons rolled to a halt next to the theater entrance and the ovation continued as more people ran down the street to join the throng, all wearing wide grins and the same white tunics.
Bendigo Rymer stood up again on his perch, waved his hat all around, and bowed deeply in every direction.
The sot's convinced they're all here to welcome him, thought Eileen. Like he died and went to heaven.
'Thank you! Thank you so much,' said Bendigo, unheard above the cheering, his eyes awash in tears. 'I can't tell you how much you're being here to meet us means to me: such a wonderful, generous reception.'
'I don't believe that I have ever seen a man so desperately starved for affection,' said Jacob with quiet wonder.
'Count that as a blessing.'
The rest of the players were poking their heads out of the other wagons with similar confusion; so far all they'd done was drive into town; what would this crowd be like when they actually gave a performance?
The cheering died instantly as a huge man in a long gray duster, the only person they'd seen in the city not wearing a white tunic, strode out of the pack and approached Bendigo's wagon, accompanied by a frowsy woman carrying an open notebook.
'Welcome to The New City, my friends,' said the big man.
'Thank you, I—' started Bendigo.
'Isn't it a glorious day?'
'Indeed, indeed, sir, the likes of which I have never—'
'Are you Mr. Bendigo Rymer, friend?' asked the big man.
'The same, sir, at your service ...'
'Would you step down and have your people come out of the wagons and get together here for me, please?'
'At once, sir!' Bendigo turned to the other wagons and clapped his hands. 'Players! Front and center, double time, all together!'
The actors and stagehands gathered beside Bendigo; utterly silent now, and still smiling, the crowd pressed in surrounding them. Eileen helped Jacob out of the back of their wagon and, making it appear as if he was still quite infirm, helped him walk haltingly to the front.
'May I humbly present, for your employment and delectation, Bendigo Rymer's Penultimate Players,' said Bendigo, doffing his stupid green hat with a flourish.
The big man carefully counted heads. No one in the crowd moved or whispered. He looked down at the woman's notebook, then counted heads again, finished, and frowned.
'Supposed to be nineteen of you,' he said to Bendigo.
'Pardon me?'
'S'only eighteen people here. You said nineteen at the gate. You got an explanation for that, Mr. Rymer?''
Rymer gulped and looked around, caught Eileen's eye, and briefly registered the sight of Jacob without his beard. Eileen saw the man's puny mind working like a hamster on a wheel. He took a step toward the big man, folding his arms, assuming a completely unauthentic camaraderie.
'Yes, of course, it's quite simple really Mr....'
Bendigo fished for a response; the big man stared at him and smiled.
'Uh, my good sir. You see ... this gentleman here,' said Rymer, turning and pointing at Jacob, 'joined our company in Phoenix, when he took ill, and I must have neglected to include him in our number.'
'Then that ought'a be one more, not one less,' said the big man. 'Shouldn't it?'
Bendigo's smile froze on his face, stricken and fresh out of bright ideas. Eileen walked quickly forward to them.
'I'm sure I can explain,' she said calmly. 'We did have another gentleman with us when we left the station in Wick-enburg, a doctor who traveled along for a while, to make sure our friend made a proper recovery.'
'So where'd he go?' asked the big man.
'He rode back yesterday; he'd brought his horse along, tied to the back of our wagon; the last wagon, you see, trailing quite a ways behind the others—I'm afraid driving a team of mules is somewhat new to me—so Mr. Rymer must have failed to notice when the doctor took his leave.'
'That's it, of course,' said Rymer, sweat greasing his forehead. 'The extra man.'
The big man looked back and forth between them, smiling, betraying no reaction. Eileen noticed pistols strapped to the belt under his coat and the handle of a shotgun protruding from a deep inside pocket.
'So this man here,' he said, pointing at Jacob. 'He's not one of you.'
'No, no, not at all,' said Rymer hastily.
'He's a
'What's his name?'
'His name is Jacob Stern,' said Eileen.
The big man gestured to the woman; she wrote the name down in her notebook. Then she turned the page.
'I need the names of the rest of your people now,' said the big man.
'Of course, sir,' said Rymer, fumbling out a list.
'What's your name?' asked Eileen.
'What's yours?'
'I asked you first,' she said.
Bendigo turned and shot her a dirty glance; Eileen half expected him to kick her in the shin.
'Brother Cornelius, ma'am,' said the man with a menacing smile.
'Eileen Temple,' she said, extending her hand. The big man looked down at it, slightly off balance, then
