Enemy Women (40 page)

Adair stood up very slowly. Her joints hurt her, unbending from her clutch of arms and legs. She must walk down the middle of the road, as she would make too much noise beneath the oaks. The worst of it was that if he caught her here in her chemise, it was ragged and gray and something to be ashamed of.

She came to the edge of the road and its soft dirt and began to run on tiptoe at top speed. She ran along the edge of the road with her knees flashing and her chemise flying out behind her in pale waves. She spurted into the long aisle of trees on the far side of the clearing where Stanger’s Steep went on its way. She ran along the road as it bent sideways along the side of the mountains, her hair flying out of her braids.

She heard someone running behind her.

Adair couldn’t go on as long as he could. She was tired out already and she turned to see him running toward her, the shirtless top half of him very pale and the bottom half nearly invisible in dark blue uniform pants.

He came up to her in the dark like a spirit and grabbed her by the hair.

Were those your horses? he said.

What horses? said Adair. Let me go!

They turned around and around in the dark as she fought to get loose of him. But he was very strong and shifted his grip to her arm where Dolly had kicked her and she cried out in pain.

Let me go, she said. I haven’t done nothing.

You’ve spied out my cabin, he said. And there’s likely more of Freeman’s boys somewhere behind you. He started off down the road in the moonlight in the direction that Dolly and Whiskey had gone with her arm in one hand and the revolver in the other.

Look there, he said. What’s that?

Ahead of them in the road was a black bulk. Bright things lay all around it. She stopped. It appeared to be a hunched troll squatted in the road and sorting among his collected trash.

It was her carpet sack and the bundle of bedding. Dolly had bucked it off. He held his revolver on her and said, Go pick it up.

Adair collected her silver dish, which she could see glinting faintly, and her tin cup. Then she started to pick up the carpet sack.

Leave that alone, he said. You could have a sidearm in there.

All right, Adair said, and held it upside down and shook it, and grabbed at the things that fell out. She got down and snatched up the green brocade slippers and the matron’s big dress and her silver brush and shawl and the candy dish. She raked the Zouave jacket toward her.

I said leave it alone!

Adair put on the bedroom slippers and pulled the dress over her head.

Don’t you tell me I can’t get dressed, she said.

He picked up the tow sack. Is there corn in there? he said. She saw in the moon’s light that he was medium tall and his eyes were hard. He watched her and untied his uniform shirt from around his waist and put it on.

Yes, she said. Corn. She was breathing in heavy gasps.

Stand on that bluff of rock and shake that bag of corn, he said. He buttoned his shirt.

On ahead of them the Steep led to a shelf of rock where they could see out over the valley as if placed there by a kind Providence for travelers to sit upon and look out over the nighttime valley, even now silting up with shadow as the moon extinguished itself. She looked out
over the valley ahead of her and thought it must be Pike Creek Valley from what Greasy John had drawn on the backs of the telegraph forms.

No, she said.

He didn’t say anything, but bent and jerked open the carpet sack and spilled the rest of her things on the ground.

Just so there ain’t no sidearm in there, he said. Now, go on. Shake that bag of corn.

No. Shoot me. Sue me in court.

He took Adair by the arm and went to stand on the shelf of rock and shook the bag of corn.

Come boys! he called. Come boys!

Before long Whiskey and Dolly came trotting up the trail. Dolly was a pale bulk but Whiskey was nearly invisible in the dark. They came and nosed at the bag.

The man took them both by the halter rope and the reins and laughed.

Good. I ain’t got no use for that saddle, he said. Pull it off.

Adair unbuckled the cinch and pulled off the sidesaddle.

Don’t take my horses, she said.

My mama didn’t raise no idiots, he said. You been out slipping around in the dark, spying out my camps, and your horses got away from you. You got some patrol close behind.

Well, what are you doing up here by yourself?

You ain’t asking the questions. He took Whiskey’s reins and Dolly by the halter rope, and led them to a tree. He tied Dolly on a low limb. I got my horse stolen two days ago, Reeves jumped me and Billy Simes and took Billy off and shot him somewhere. Now these are just what I need.

Ain’t the war over? asked Adair. You can’t take my horses if the war is over.

Not here it ain’t, he said. Not for a long time.

Suddenly Dolly reared back on her tie rope, bracing her front legs and jerking wildly.

Stop that, you bitch, said the man, and kicked Dolly on the hindquarters. She bolted forward, turned to face the man with her round dark eyes and her ears cocked. I said cut that shit out. He approached her and she pulled back on the halter rope again, fighting hard to break it. He said, I hate a horse that pulls back. He walked up to her and kicked her hard in the chest, and then Dolly reared up and pawed the air. She stood out pale in the night with her big horse belly exposed to them, striking with her front feet.

The man shot her in the head. His revolver bucked in his hand and flame poured out of the muzzle. Adair screamed in a long diminishing tremolo that repeated itself from hill to hill. Dolly jerked rigid, her legs stiff as pipes and trembling wildly. Then the gray mare went down very slowly, a large hole high up on her jaw. She lay down as if performing a trick she had never done before. Blood dripped from her mouth. She lay down on the leaves with her head still held up by the halter rope. Her eyes closed very slowly, inch by inch. Whiskey stood strained back on his reins, thrashing his head.

Oh don’t kill my horse! said Adair. Oh look how you’ve hurt her!

I done killed her. He walked to Whiskey. Now what is this one going to do?

Nothing, said Adair. He won’t do anything. She went to Whiskey and patted him. Be good, she said. Be good now. Dolly still hung by her head and the blood was dripping from her mouth. Whiskey stood and his skin trembled all over his body in waves.

Then you come on, you ain’t running off to go tell Reeves’s fellows where I am. He pulled Whiskey’s reins free and walked along leading the dun horse, and had her in the other hand. If you do anything I will kill this horse too. He’s your pet, ain’t he?

Adair said, I just traded for him a couple of days ago. He don’t mean anything to me but I got to get home. Give him to me, and she reached for him.

He knocked her hand down. I bet you’re a Snider. I bet you’ll hightail it back to the Sniders’ and bring them all a-running, he said.

They walked on.

No, I wouldn’t, said Adair. Just give me my horse.

He’s your pet all right. The man let go her arm. I’m going on to Pike Creek and I’ll get a saddle there from the Upshaws. They’re Union. They’ll give me a saddle. So you just come along, Miss, and if you run I’ll shoot this horse dead. You can stay at the Upshaws until they can take you in.

Take me in where? said Adair.

Under arrest.

I was just running down the road! Adair said. I lost my horses!

The man walked on. Now, you can prove you’re innocent before the provost marshal. His voice became less harsh. She still could not see his features. They went on down the trail, a broad road into the valley before them. There were no house lights in all the dark stretches of the hills but it was late in the night.

Let me put on my jacket, she said. She looked back at Dolly, who hung by her halter, splattered with dark blotches over her pale neck and head, and who was very still except for the slight fluttering of her mane in the night breeze.

Well, go on. I guess you’re cold.

Adair put on the Zouave jacket and held it around her. They walked on into the night where the whippoorwill sang its one repetitive song over and over. Whiskey blew hard and stared around him. He thrashed his head from side to side against the bit.

Stop it, you son of a bitch, said the man.

He don’t mean nothing, said Adair. He’s just scared.

The man laughed. He’s your pet all right.

Adair strode long steps to keep up with the man. They went on down the hill and came to a branch and crossed through it in noisy splashes. It was not deep, but Whiskey sat back on his hindquarters and made a roaring snort like a stag, his nostrils open to red holes. He gathered himself as if he would jump the water or sail into the air.

It’s all right, Whiskey, said Adair. She put her hand on his shoulder.
Go on, go on. And the dun horse stepped through the water in high steps as if it contaminated him. He was cautious of everything now. All around them the dry grasses from last summer stood tall, the color of bronze.

Well now, this is companionable, ain’t it? the man said. Do you have any favorite subject of conversation?

I don’t know, said Adair. She tried to sound light. What about you?

Did you ever hypnotize a chicken?

Well, now that you mention it, I did, she said, in a gay voice. It’s just funny one time.

You can hypnotize a man before you shoot him, the man said. You put that gun barrel in his face and bear down on him and stare him in the eye and it’s like he’s kind of fainted away but his eyes are open.

Well isn’t that something, said Adair. That’s really interesting. She hurried along beside the man and Whiskey trying to see where they were going in the dark.

It is something, he said. You hear people talk about it. He cleared his throat and spat. That scare you?

Well, no, said Adair. I guess that’s what it’s like being a soldier. She laughed, in a ragged trailing noise.

Yes it is. I’m tired of being a soldier. A man should relax. Have some fun. Adair didn’t say anything so he said, Don’t you like relaxing and having fun?

Well, sure, said Adair. Her voice was high and thin. They went on along the road with the big bluestem grass nearly touching overhead and through the waving seed heads the low moon flashed and glittered.

What kind of music do you like?

Oh, I like the modern waltzes, said Adair. And some of the old tunes like “Soldier’s Joy.”

I like that jigging music, the man said. But you need a good fiddler. You don’t need such a good fiddler for the waltzes. They can kind of shin through because they’re slow and easy to play.

I never thought of it like that, said Adair.

Are you lagging behind? Come on. Walk up.

Wait, she said, I can’t hardly go on.

Yes you can, he said. I enjoy your company. You just keep walking and talking.

Let me walk on the other side and hold on to his mane. She trudged along in the bedroom slippers holding to Whiskey’s mane. The Steep was leading them through the open valley of Pike Creek and the big bluestem stood very tall in the moonlight on both sides with the pale rutted track going on.

Where does this come out? said the man. I thought it was taking us to Upshaws’.

Well, they call it the Arkansas road, said Adair. It comes out in north Arkansas, I guess, and it goes on to Little Rock and then to Mexico or somewhere.

I ain’t going to Mexico, girl, I am going to get me a saddle.

Well, Upshaws’ track is down here a ways.

Where does it go before it gets to Arkansas? He stopped and in the dim tall grass struck a match and lit a pipe. The match shone on the grass stems and his ordinary-looking face and then he threw it down and stepped on it.

Well, it goes on to Wilderness.

He laughed. This here is all a wilderness.

No, I mean the town of Wilderness. That place where Hyssop’s Rest is at. The tavern. Adair coughed and leaned and spit into the road.

What’s the matter with you?

I don’t know. I got a cottonseed down my throat.

Well, quit making so much noise.

Adair took up her skirts in both hands and kept walking.

The tavern. I know that place. But I got to get to Upshaws’ first.

It’s just a little ways.

You show me. Show me when we get there. His revolver occasionally took up a flash of moonlight that ran liquid down the barrel. He said, Hyssop’s Rest has got to be a good fifteen miles from here. He
smoked and paced on into the seething grasses and said, When I get me a saddle from old man Upshaw then I’ll ride and you can ride behind. When we get to Hyssop’s we can have a drink.

All right, said Adair.

Do you take a drink when it’s offered?

Once in a while.

Well, this is one of those onces. He laughed. Jessie Hyssop. She cooks for the Rebs one night and us fellows the next.

They went on through the broad valley of grass where no trees grew because of the floods that came down out of the mountains from time to time and swept everything before them except for the pliable grass that bent before everything and then came up again to respond amiably to any wind that came and outlasted everything except the willows, which also bent. Even now to the southwest came the rumble of thunder or it could have been artillery.

Off to the right in the creek bottom several hen turkeys burst out in a squalling nighttime argument and were then quiet again.

What was that? He stopped and snatched back on Whiskey’s reins to keep the horse from walking over him. Some of your friends signaling one another? He knocked out his pipe and stepped on the coal.

Adair knew he meant Colonel Reeves’s men, or Freeman’s men. Sounds like hen turkeys to me, she said. The high grass sang around them in a whisper of coming rain, the seed heads tipped uneasily to the northeast over their heads. The thunder sounded again afar off, behind it a glimmer of lightning.

If I don’t look out here I’m going to get myself shot, he said. How do I know this is the Arkansas road? We might have turned off.

I’m following you, said Adair. And you have my horse.