I was too nervous to sleep—too heavy with foreboding, too depressed. The Tulip sat on her stool outside the China Pond. Except for the lovers in the tent, she and I were the last citizens of Greasy Corners. When I walked up, she was tapping tobacco into her long pipe.
“I can’t get Billy to examine the situation,” I said, ignoring formality. “You talk to him. Persuade him to go.”
La Tulipe seemed half asleep, even as her old fingers moved on the pipe. She didn’t say a word.
“He’s only a boy yet,” I said. “He might change.”
“Let the worms change him,” La Tulipe said. “He killed my old man.”
It surprised me—she had shown no trace of sentiment as we dragged Des Montaignes away. And yet she had followed the old trader across the West, from the Columbia River Gorge to the Rio Rojo. I had come to think of her as a kind of oracle, I suppose—I had forgotten that she, too, had a woman’s heart.
“The Indian’s coming tonight,” she said. “Old Whiskey’s coming too. They’re all coming.”
I went back to my chair, my forebodings in no way lightened. I wondered if I dared wake Billy and tell him what the Tulip had said.
In Bulwer such a night would be dark and gloomy; lightning would flash and the Death Dog might appear. But this night was as beautiful as any I spent on the plains. The moon was an ivory slice, the stars intense, the breeze soft. Once I heard Cecily sigh from within the tent.
At midnight Billy came out, his shirt hanging loose. He walked over near my hut to relieve himself, and saw me sitting there. I believe he even realized how tense I was—it may have been one of the few times Billy Bone really noticed me.
“Can’t sleep?” he asked.
“No, I can’t, Billy,” I said. “I’m too worried—I think you’re in a lot of danger.”
For a moment he seemed concerned. “Dang, Sippy, you lead too hard a life,” he said. “Maybe you oughta go home and just let the dang Territory take care of itself.”
“I wish you’d run, Billy,” I said. “I wish you’d catch a horse right now. Go east or north, and don’t stop. I’m rich. I can wire you some money once you get to Kansas City or Fort Worth.”
My plan seemed to amaze him.
“Why, I wouldn’t leave Snow just to miss a few killers,” he said. “I’m a first-rate killer myself—they’ll just have to watch out.”
He started to go back to the tent and then stopped.
“Have you got any of them general pills?” he asked.
“Yes, a few,” I said. “Do you have a headache?”
“Oh, not me, I’m fine,” Billy said. “I thought you ought to eat a few yourself. They might help you sleep.”
Then he slipped back into Lord Snow’s tent and left me to stare at the starlit plain.