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Page 10 of 10
Annie closed her eyes and felt the warm orange glow of the sun on her lids. She felt a giddy joy that pertained to nothing except the smell of the sage and the feel of the wind on her cheeks and it lasted until the face of the Oglala on the blue paint horse appeared in her mind's eye again, incredibly clear, uninvited, and his crooked bright smile. Pretty White Ghost Woman.
"Have another drink, Miss Quinn," Harlow said.
Annie turned again.
"You don't need to," Sam said.
Annie took the jar again.
"It feels alright," she said. "Once its down."
She took another drink and this one slid down more easily but burned like a coal fire in her stomach and then erupted upward through her cheeks and ears in a way that made her giggle.
Annie did not feel drunk when the cowboys rode into town, but she did not feel like herself either. She felt bigger, lighter, less connected, like a genie poured upwards into cloud existence. Harlow had left the porch and Annie had shifted into the space he left and listened to the slow speculative conversation of Sam, Dave, and Lyle as the shadows formed and grew off the sides of the buildings and in the ruts of the road. Time passed quietly. Annie remembered to untie Spider and he wandered off in search of forage and shade. As she returned to her seat, they rode in, a dusty column of men on proud quarter horses, their hatbrims tugged down over their eyes.
"Here come Le Gris," Lyle said.
"Harlow said they're furloughin two days fore roundup."
"Little early ennit?"
"They hold em a month fore drivin em."
"You might sell something."
"I might."
"Are they all permanent hands?" Annie asked, amazed.
"Pretty near," Lyle said. "Sonsabitches too."
"Jacque's okay," Sam said. "It's Jean Baptiste is the problem."
"And all the rest of em."
"Which one is Jean Baptiste?" Annie said.
The riders were tying up their horses across the street in front of the saloon.
"That one there," Lyle said. "With the gelding."
Annie followed the indication of Lyle's chin and let her eyes search the ponies until they rested on a tall champagne-colored gelding.
"Annie, I know it ain't right but there's not a thing you could say to him that would help the situation any."
"I just asked which one he was," Annie said. "I never saw him before."
Jean-Baptiste Le Gris the Younger was a bow-legged piece of wire with a close-cropped grey beard, a grey ponytail, and dark beady eyes, that Annie could see from across the street. She recognized the same ratlike sunken cheeks that Harlow had, but aside from that there was no similarity of appearance. He was dressed no different from the other men, a long coat, leather breeches, and a cotton work shirt.
"I've seen the older one before," Annie said. "But I never saw him before."
Her voice was dreamy. It worried Sam. He was ready to speak but couldn't think what to say.
"Hey Muleskin," Jean Baptiste called.
"Shit," Lyle said.
He stood up from his place, re-set his hat, and lowered himself of the front of the porch stiffly, and walked across the rutted street to where Jean Baptiste stood. The other men were in different stages of tying up and heading inside to the saloon. Annie's eyes fell on a young cowboy with a gentle face.
"Who's that one Sam?" she said.
Sam followed her eyes.
"That's Jacque," Sam said. "He's the youngest."
"He's nice lookin," she said.
Sam smiled.
"I guess he is," Sam said.
Annie watched Jean Baptiste giving Lyle instructions. She did not hate him. She could imagine Elisha, proud, condescending, military walking in and calling the man a thief in front of his own people and she wondered why her brother had turned his back, if not to get shot in it and win the ultimate contest of moral superiority. She floated up into the sky and watched the whole scene from above, watched her brother shot down, crawling in the dust, turning onto his back and staring at the empty sky. What had he thought then?
"Were you here when he shot Elisha?"
"Annie..."
"I'm just asking questions Sam. That's all."
"I was here."
"Did he die right off?"
"Not right off but pretty near."
"They told us he died right off."
"Pretty near," Sam said.
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