Christmas came on a beautiful, sunny day that year. Although the world around them was frozen to the bone, the air seemed warmer, somehow, than it should have been. After their coffee, they went to Grammy’s house and were greeted by the welcoming smell of fresh flapjacks. The final pile of cakes was so massive, Violet could hardly tell the color of the table cloth beneath their plates. Along with their hotcakes, there was fresh butter and cold milk, and a small jug of molasses. Sitting Bear had to stop Rory’s pouring before he emptied half the jug on his breakfast. They ate and talked, and reveled in Grammy’s fine cooking. No doubt she’d been up since dawn to make enough for the lot of them. By the time Violet was done, her belly was bursting at the seams.
“Now after yas wash up, I want ya in yer Sunday best,” Grammy said, concluding their meal. “No excuses, hear me?”
“Sunday best?” Violet clarified. “But we ain’t got no Sunday best.”
“Whassat?”
“I said, we ain’t got no Sunday best.”
“Whaddya mean, you want a blue jay nest?”
Mei answered instead. “Don’t worry. You can wear a potato sack and Grammy won’t notice much.”
“But where are we headed? Surely not church?” The weary smiles of the Railwalkers were all Violet needed for confirmation.
“It’s for Grammy’s sake,” Linus added. “It’s tradition. Besides, you try telling her no.”
Violet opened her mouth to protest, but realized Linus had a point. Still, there was an uncomfortable churn in her stomach at the thought of going back to Sunday mass. It was a part of her she thought she had left behind back in Redrock. Granted, it wasn’t as though her mother was there waiting for her, but ever since her solitary visit to that chapel some months ago, she didn’t think she’d find herself in one again. After helping with the dishes, they walked together into town. It was faster to go on horseback, but Grammy insisted that walks “kept her young.” The view of the silvery snow in the sunlight was enough to excuse the inconvenience.
The tiny main street, its road covered in muddy ice, was a buzz with townsfolk, heading to the church at the end of the stretch. Children, bundled in warm winter wool, ran in circles around their parents, throwing snowballs wildly. Rory was quickly drawn into the scene, and the Railwalkers watched as their youngest flung himself into a heap of fresh snow, dodging a spray of oncoming sleet.
“Good morning, Mrs. O’Grady.” Victor approached the group with a warm smile, his neck bundled with a shoddy old scarf. “Merry Christmas.”
“Oh, Dr. Victor!” Grammy grinned and took his arm in greeting. “A happy Christmas t’ya, m’son. Wouldja walk’n old woman to the church?”
“Of course, Mrs. O’Grady.” Victor escorted her as any gentleman would, and they continued towards the church. “It’s going to be a fine Christmas, I think. Will you be joining me for supper tonight?”
“Wouldn’ miss’t fer the world.”
The shadow of the church stretched over them as they entered the threshold. Violet paused at the door. Outside, the blinding light nearly washed away the inner domain of the holy place, giving her all the more reason to pause. Mei, noticing Violet’s hesitation, approached her.
“Violet?”
Violet shook her head. “It’s stupid, really. I guess…well, I guess it makes sense to feel judged in a place like this, don’t it?”
Mei didn’t push further; by the look in her eye, she understood. Mei turned back around and watched as the boys took their seats near the front of the congregation. No doubt Grammy liked to be close to the preacher. Mei returned to Violet, and gently took her hand. “Why not take a step in for a moment or two? And if ya don’t like it, we’ll step out. Grammy won’t even notice.”
A weight shifted from Violet’s shoulders, and she smiled, accepting the deal. Hand in hand, the two walked inside, and Violet’s eyes adjusted to the dimness. It was an ordinary chapel, the same as any. The pews were simple and filled quickly by the townspeople. Families sat together, coaxing their young ones to sit still. Some mothers were busy wiping the dirt of their children’s faces. Rory, now filthy as a piglet, found the others quickly, and took his seat right next to Grammy. She wrapped her arm around Rory like any mother would. Violet’s anxieties aside, it was a tender sight.
“Good morning.” A soft voice floated from the front of the congregation. An older man, perhaps in his forties, reached the podium. He was gentle eyed, and slightly hunched, with crow’s feet branching out on either side of his round face. “Please, be seated.” Those who were standing found a seat, and Violet and Mei stayed put. “I welcome you, one and all, on this beautiful Christmas morning. Winter has always been a time of harshness. Crops die, soil stiffens. The world around us slumbers beneath a blanket of icy white. And yet, I feel nothing but warmth around me today. Brought together under the grace of Our Lord God, we must remain ever thankful for the family that surrounds us.
“It is in man’s nature to hate. Not long ago, we saw our brothers die in a war which took hope from our mothers’ very bosoms. And yet, it is in man’s nature to love, as well. Look here. Around you.” The preacher raised his hand and encouraged the congregation to observe the room. Violet’s hand squeezed Mei’s, gently. “These, these people are your neighbors. Your family. Your lovers. As it is in man’s nature to destroy, so too is it in his nature to nurture and grow. And in the time when all seems darkest, I must urge you to remember your neighbor’s faces. For even against winter’s coldest wind, the strength and love of your community can plant the most stubborn of seed, and will it to bloom by the love of brotherhood in faith. Amen.”
“Amen,” the crowd echoed softly.
“Let us pray.”
Violet decided to stay after that. She recalled Redrock’s preacher being a rather vindictive man. Often, he talked at length about the punishment of sinners and the need to repent or face hellfire. But this man spoke softly, and with a fondness for the small gathering of townsfolk he lectured. There was laughter, and peace, and a few gentle songs, and then, church was dismissed for Christmas festivities. Admittedly, Violet couldn’t recall a Sunday mass that left her with such a warm feeling by the end of it.
“Let’s be off,” Victor announced as they exited. “That goose has been roasting all morning. Any longer and it’ll dry out.”
“So kind’o’ye to n’vite us for supper, sweet boy,” Grammy swooned. “The highlight of m’year.”
Victor shook his head. “It’s no trouble at all, Mrs. O’Grady. Like the vicar said; we are all family on Christmas, aren’t we?” Turning a corner, Victor led the group to a small cottage behind the general store. Inside, the warm light of an oven invited them closer, and the smell of roasted meat made Violet salivate. Victor held the door open for the lot of them, and they stepped inside.
The first thing Violet noticed was that Victor’s home was smartly furnished. It was three rooms: a parlor, kitchen, and bedroom. It wasn’t exactly the Donovan estate, but its size felt rather absurd for a bachelor. The parlor was dressed with a plush carpet and framed portraits. A fire roared in the hearth, and a table with porcelain placings took center stage. In the kitchen, Violet saw the glimpse of a fat, pot-bellied stove, cooking the Christmas goose behind its grated door. Once they were in and their boots and coats were off, Victor broke out a crystal decanter of wine, and they toasted to the new year.
These would soon be Violet’s greatest memories. They drank and laughed and filled the air with stories of adventure and mishap. When they ate, they ate to their stomachs’ content, and then some. Candied fruits, roasted goose, potatoes and carrots, all accompanied with hot gravy. Violet strained to remember the last time she ate so well, even when thinking of Charlie’s cooking. They played party games, and Victor danced a jig to Linus’s mouth harp. By the time the air had settled, the world was dark, and the fire in the pit had grown low and mellow. Sitting Bear, slumped in a velvet armchair, snored softly. Rory and Linus were snuggled up on top of him, the three like a cluster of feral cats. Grammy was fast asleep as well, her mouth hanging open like a fresh caught fish. Violet, Mei, and Victor spent their evening speaking softly over the last of the Christmas wine.
“…so that’s when I decided,” Violet said. “I knew if I stayed, I’d be got up by the law, and if I left on my own, I’d be got by somethin’ worse. But if I knew how to handle myself, at least whatever tried to get after me would have to work for it.”
Victor whistled lowly. “I can’t imagine…It must have been so hard for you, leaving so abruptly like that. And your poor mother…”
“There’s so much I wish I could do. To tell her I’m all right. But that ain’t in the cards these days.”
“Why’s that?”
“We had a run-in with one of Violet’s lawmen,” Mei explained. “If she was gonna get out alive, well…I guess you could say she needed to die.”
Victor nodded wisely. “Mm. I see. It’s not easy, living the life of a dead man. I would know.”
“Would you?” Violet asked.
“Oh yes. I’ve had to play the part several times over my life.”
“Linus said you had a pretty big gambling debt. That true?”
Victor smiled and polished off his wine. “Mostly.”
“What’s mostly?”
Victor and Mei glanced at one another. Victor’s smile remained. “I did have a gambling debt. I owed many terrible people far too much money. Under normal circumstances, I doubt Mei would have helped me at all.”
“It’s true,” Mei agreed. “We don’t handle these kinds’a personal matters.”
“So what changed your mind, Mei?”
“Well,” Mei began, stretching her arms. One of them landed around Violet’s shoulders, comfortable as can be. “We found out we had somethin’ in common, ol’ Victor and I.”
“I was never very fond of the fairer sex,” Victor explained. “As a matter of fact, these terrible people I owed money to, it was only half the reason they wanted to see my head on a platter. The other half had to do with the man’s son, of whom I was very acquainted, if I may be so delicate.”
“I’d met whores who’d let me pay ‘em,” Mei added, “but never someone quite like me. We were different, and we knew that of each other almost at once. It was…” Mei gestured vaguely in front of her. “Well, it’s hard to put to words. Made me want to help him. So we did what we could.”
“Please, don’t be modest, Mei. You made a man twice your size damn near piss himself.”
Mei laughed. “I guess I did, didn’t I?”
Victor took out an old tin, and removed an ash wood pipe and a bundle of dried tobacco. Stuffing it full, he struck a match and lit it, and offered a smoke to Mei. “Well, I think it’s about that time.” Victor smiled at the others, still all fast asleep around them. “There isn’t much space here. Why don’t you two take my bed?”
“What about you?” Violet asked.
“Oh no,” said Victor, “I’ve got quite a few hours left in me. I’ll stay out here.”
With one last meager protest, Violet and Mei retired to Victor’s bedroom. Far smaller than the rest of the cottage, it consisted of a mattress and wardrobe, with a single oil lamp for light. The two women crawled beneath the sheets, their arms intertwined between them. As Violet drifted off, she was comforted by the warmth in her belly, and the feel of her lover’s breath against her knuckles.
* * * *
It started with a fever. A few days after Christmas, Rory played in the fresh snow with some of the other children in town. There was a storm headed on the horizon, so it was his last chance to have a little fun before they hunkered down for the worst parts of the winter chill. Perhaps if he had come home a little earlier, or played a little less, the sickness could have been avoided. Violet was awoken that next morning to the sound of Rory’s pathetic coughs. His forehead was burning hot, even though his body shivered. For the remainder of the day, Rory was bundled up and kept by the fire, and fed a diet of hot soup and warm milk to ease his ailment.
“Hot again,” Violet noted, the morning of the third day. Rory had stirred all throughout the night, groggy and forgone of his senses. His hair sectioned in tufts of wet red, yet his body suffered from never-ending shivers. Violet tucked him in and addressed the others. “How’s the wind?”
“Bad,” said Linus, closing the shutters tight. “No idea when it’ll let up.”
Violet approached the other three, wheels turning in her mind. “I’m afraid it might be serious. He keeps up like this and I dunno how long he’ll last. We may have to take him into town.”
“Into town?” Mei clarified. She gestured to the swirling storm beyond their walls. “He’ll die of cold before we got close.”
“But we have to try, don’t we? What if we just—?”
“I said no, Violet. And that’ll be the end of it.” From then on, if Violet begged the question, Mei’s answer remained the same. Rory would not be moved from the barn if it was the last thing Mei did. Additionally, when Violet tried sending word to Dr. Victor to see if he could make a house call, she was met with the news that he was attending to a patient a whole town over, and would be there for the rest of the week.
For days on end, Rory’s symptoms fluctuated. Some mornings, he would wake up with a renewed life, only to have it drain by sundown, and be bedridden with heaving coughing fits. They all did what they could to help him. Grammy prescribed little swabs of brandy to help put him to sleep, while Sitting Bear kept a hot cloth close at all times. Occasionally, when his fever tipped the scales, Linus—with proper precision—would gently cut into his soft arm to let the sick blood drip into a pie pan.
Around them, the storm only got worse. The winds howled against the barn walls, rattling the squeaky hinges and rickety shutters. Linus and Sitting Bear would gather wood when the weather allowed it, but they were still forced to remain conservative with their fires. The perpetual frost in the air was hardly doing Rory any favors, and by the fifth morning, he was barely well enough to speak, or eat, and spent his day bundled in every blanket available to him.
“He can’t keep on like this,” Violet said. “You sure Grammy don’t got no medicine to spare? Nothin’ at all?”
Mei shook her head. “Not a drop. Best she’s got is a bit of old tobacco in a spit tin, but that’s for her gums when they get ornery.”
The barn trembled against the rushing wind, and their minuscule fire flickered, threatening to wink out of life. Sitting Bear pulled one of the remaining logs from their quickly depleting heap, split it, and put the smaller section in the hearth. The gust settled, but only just, and Violet continued.
“We need that doctor. He’s bound to have something—”
“I reckon he does,” said Linus, “but we have no way of knowin’ when he’ll be back in town.”
“I keep sayin’ we need to take Rory in, and the more time we waste arguin’ the less time he’s got. Even if Victor ain’t there, I’m sure he wouldn’t mind if we used his house while he was away. It’s better than this old barn at any rate.”
“I told you once before,” said Mei. “Absolutely not. Rory spends two seconds out there, he freezes to death.”
“Then we’ll keep him wrapped up!”
“Violet, it don’t matter how much he’s got on, this weather’ll kill him.”
A great moan sounded from the barn walls. The Railwalkers went still, as if afraid that the whole structure would be blown away from them at any second. Thankfully, it stayed put. Violet clutched her hair in frustration. “Well, what’s worse? Tryin’ to save him or lettin’ him die here while we watch—”
“We are not ‘lettin’ him die.’ We’re taking care of him.”
“Yeah, right before you bleed out his last drop.”
“Violet.”
Rory began coughing, which drew their attention over. Sitting Bear was the first to Rory’s side, and he felt his forehead. His eyes were awash with worry, and he looked to the others. “He’s burning,” he said. “I do not know how much longer he can survive.”
“Christ, that settles it.” Violet marched over towards Maple and began untying her bridle. “We gotta take him to Victor, get him some real treatment.”
“You take him out there you’ve condemned him!” Mei shouted. “For once in your life, have some goddam patience, woman!”
“Patience!?” Violet whipped around. “You’re yammerin’ on about patience when our boy is dyin’ right before your eyes!?”
“He’ll survive!”
“You can’t be sure of that!”
“You can’t be sure he won’t!”
Violet threw Maple’s reins and rounded on Mei. Neither one dared flinch. “Well, I’ll be damned if I’m gonna sit here and do nothin’ about it!”
“You take him from here and he’s got worse chances of living than if he stays put, period.” With a frustrated snort, Mei gestured wildly into the air. “But here you go, regardless, guns blazin’ into the wind! You wanna be some reckless hero, you do it riskin’ your own life, you hear me?”
“What are you talkin’ about?”
“I’m talkin’ about you! Just cause you toss around some rotten men here and there, you fancy yourself a hero! So much that you’re willin’ to stake that boy’s life just to serve your own vanity!”
Violet’s jaw dropped. The air around her was frigid cold, and yet she’d never felt so hot under the collar. Steam poured from her lips as she snapped back, “You think this is about me? What in God’s name made you think somethin’ like that!? How dare you think I got anything but Rory’s best in mind?” Violet shook her head. “No, you can’t play God, Mei. You ain’t God, and you never was. Just cause you can’t admit when you’re wrong—!” Violet stopped herself. “This ain’t worth it. I’m taking Rory.”
Ch-chk.
The sound of Mei’s rifle seemed to stop the world from spinning. All of them, Violet, Linus, and Sitting Bear, stared at the barrel in her hands, pointed directly at Violet’s heart. There was less than three feet between them. If Mei pulled the trigger, there would be no missing. Violet slowly lifted her eyes from the barrel to the bearer. But unlike so many times before, when Mei’s eyes were steely cut, and her expression etched in stone, Mei was trembling. Her black gaze twinkled with tears above her red cheeks, and her shoulders shook harder than the walls of the barn around them.
“You take Rory,” she said softly, “and you kill him. I won’t let you…”
The air was thick, and Violet watched Mei’s unblinking desperation. Her body shook, but her trigger finger remained steady. Violet’s stomach twisted a thousand ways, watching that barrel stare back at her. There was a voice inside her head that urged Violet to call Mei’s bluff. But another, a louder voice, that warned her not to test it. Linus was the first to move. Calm and gentle, he laid a hand on Mei’s shoulder, who twitched at the contact.
“This is crazy,” he said. “Mei, this is all crazy. Both of you only want what’s best.” Still, Mei kept her rifle up. As tears spilled, a realization dawned over Violet. Her anger, her shock, all washed away as Violet pieced together Mei’s fear.
Slow as she could, Violet approached, and laid her hand on the cold barrel. “Mei. Listen to me.” Her voice was strong, yet low. “I will keep Rory safe. It won’t be like your mother.” Mei flinched, and for a split second, Violet worried that Mei would shoot. After a moment, however, she lowered her gun, and her shoulders slumped. The room heaved a collective sigh. Reaching out, Violet took hold of Mei’s neck and laid their foreheads together. Mei’s breathing was choppy at best, her body unable to stay still. “Shh…hush now…” Mei fell forward, and Violet embraced her tight. Mei clung to Violet, dropping her gun at their feet.
“I can’t—I can’t lose him like that. I can’t stand to see him all froze and—”
“You won’t. I swear to you, you won’t.”
“He’s so young.”
“I know.”
They hugged a few moments more, and Violet began to prepare. She threw on an extra coat and some of her Christmas socks knitted by Grammy herself. She was just bundling up her neck when Mei stopped her again. “Wait.” She took Violet’s hand. “Maple won’t make the cold. I’ll come with. Huī will get us there. He’s the toughest.”
She had a point. Big black Huī had the muscle to plow through the snow without incident. Violet nodded, and they made quick work together. Wrapping Rory as tightly as they could, Violet kept him bundled in her arms, and the pair of them mounted Huī’s saddle. Sitting Bear pried open the frozen doors, and they stepped out into the blizzard.
It was as though a thousand sharp knives sliced at Violet’s face. Hunkered behind Mei, Violet kept Rory between them, and constantly blew against his pale cheeks to keep him alive. Even with Huī’s strong gait, it was a struggle fighting the banks of icy white. There were some moments when the snow was piled so high, it buried their feet on either side of the saddle. Beneath her legs, Huī pressed on, big tufts of air leaving his wide nose with every push. Rory, eyes barely open, seemed to try and talk as he was escorted. Violet hushed him quiet, and told him to sleep instead.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the sight of the town bled through the veil of snow. Mei rode Huī to the front of Victor’s door, and Violet leapt from the saddle, nearly crashing as she landed. Not breaking momentum, she burst inside.
“Victor!” she cried. Head spinning, she was nearly blinded upon entry, which was why she just about knocked the poor doctor over as they each turned the corner.
“Violet—?” Victor steadied her and saw Rory in her arms. Victor grew suddenly stern and stepped aside. “My room. Quickly.” Violet rushed to do as she was told. Once inside, she folded Rory deep into Victor’s quilt. The doctor followed close behind. “How long?”
“Near a week now,” said Violet.
Victor washed his hands quickly, his sleeves rolled to his elbow. “What are his ailments?”
“Coughing, fever, barely can talk half the time. What is it?”
“Most likely? A winter’s chill. But it could also be influenza. I won’t know for certain until I examine him.” Victor took out a leather bag of tools and turned to Violet. “Please, wait for me in the parlor.”
Violet nodded and left the doctor to his work. As she closed the door, she saw Mei, covered in ice, slosh her way inside. “Huī should be fine for now,” Mei said. “Got him bundled up in the side shed.” Mei approached the fire in the hearth and held her hands to the heat. “What he say?”
“Could be nothin’. Could be somethin’ bad.” Violet sat down, staring into the flames. “All we can do is wait now.”
Mei stood, idle, as all the panic drained from them both. The ticking of the grand clock was hypnotic and washed away the howling of the winds beyond Victor’s door. Once she was thoroughly warmed, Mei sat herself down next to Violet and took off her boots. A silence budded between them.
“Earlier,” said Mei. “I didn’t…” She stopped herself. She tried again. “I know all you wanted was to help. I just—”
“I know.”
Mei rubbed her eyes, keeping her emotions in check. “You don’t forget somethin’ like that. A body, all froze and blue. She looked like she was made of stone. Just…there. Not breathin’, not movin’. All I could do was hold her and weep. It was all I could think to do.”
Violet cast her eyes between them. Mei’s free hand rested on the cushions by their legs. Violet took it. Eventually, they found themselves in each other’s arms, and watched the fire blaze beneath the stone chimney.
Violet didn’t know when she fell asleep. But her awakening was sharp and sudden. The fire had dwindled to a few stubborn embers, and a chill had leaked down the chimney into the parlor. Violet shivered and looked to the weight on her shoulder. Mei was there, heavy and deeply asleep. Come to think of it, Violet wasn’t sure if Mei had gotten a wink since Rory took ill. Her heart heavy, Violet wrapped her arms around Mei, keeping her still and warm.
The door creaked open, and Violet looked up. Victor, worn and tired, stepped into the parlor room. He offered Violet a weary smile and knelt down to restart the fire.
“Well?” Violet whispered.
Victor nodded. “He’ll pull through. Though only just.” He turned to Violet, iron poker in hand. “If you hadn’t brought him to me when you did, he might not have made it.”
The tightness in Violet’s chest uncoiled, and her body slumped against the couch, now more world weary than ever. “Thank you, doc. What do we owe ya?”
“Not a damn thing.” Victor yawned widely and stood, cracking his back as he did so. He spotted Mei, asleep on Violet’s shoulder. Opening a crate near the fireplace, he turned back to them with an older, spare quilt. He laid it on the women, tucking them in comfortably. “Hopefully this storm will let up before too long. Still, I’d like to keep Rory here until I’m sure he’s healthy.”
“Of course.” Violet watched as Victor sat himself in an armchair and checked his watch.
“Oh my. It’s nearly dawn.”
“Is it? What a night…”
“Indeed.”
They sat in silence a moment. Mei shifted where she slept and managed to curl up on the opposite side of the couch, unbothered. Violet watched her, her heart heavy. “I can’t imagine…”
“What was that?”
Violet’s eyes never left Mei as she slept. “Mei lost her mother in the winter. I can’t imagine wakin’ up just to see your own mother frozen to death.”
“Ah…” Victor laid his hands in his lap, thoughtfully. “There’s much about Mei I can’t imagine. But I didn’t know that about her.” He turned to Violet and caught her attention. “She must trust you dearly to tell you something like that.”
Violet’s mind immediately went to the barn, and the sight of Mei’s cold barrel staring her down without flinching. “I s’pose she does. Then again, who knows what goes through her mind?” Violet returned to Mei. “I love her, though. Probably more than I love myself.”
Victor smiled, ever so gently. “In that respect, then, I believe she is a lucky woman.” Again, he checked his watch. “Would you care for some tea? I’m afraid I’m not one for coffee.”
“Tea?” Violet chuckled. “Alright, doc. So long as you got some whiskey to go with it.”
Leaving the parlor, Victor put on a kettle, and the two settled in for a long talk. Over their tea (and a touch here and there of fine brandy), Violet learned many things about Victor. He was a gambling man, certainly, and came from a wealthy family from Rhode Island (not New Jersey). Once his losses became habitual, Victor would have to skip town to try and avoid his debtors. Fortunately, he’d managed to kick the itch once coming out west, and instead focused on his practice. He was barely thirty and had been studying medicine since his late teens. His family had a lazy cat named Bernice, which he missed most of all. He’d once had a love or two in his life, but it was always brief, considering the circumstances of his sexual tastes. In the mornings, Victor preferred a simple breakfast of tea and grits, or fresh fruit when it was in season. He’d been living in the town for years now, and with the help of the Railwalkers, finally at peace.
It was hours before Violet first heard the birdsong outside the window. Tearing herself from the conversation, she saw golden sunlight break over a smooth, winter landscape. The storm was gone, and a robin had landed at Victor’s window sill, grooming its feathers in the morning light.
“Well well.” Victor leaned back in his seat, staring through the window. “Looks like it’s finally passed. Thank goodness.”
A shift from the parlor drew Violet’s attention. Rising from the sofa, Mei rubbed her eyes and looked around aimlessly.
“Mornin,” Violet said. Mei only grunted in response. She shuffled her way into the kitchen and looked around, squinting.
“No coffee?”
“No coffee,” Victor affirmed. He held up his mug. “Tea?” Mei soured at the prospect.
Violet stood from her seat. “I’ll go check on Rory.” The others nodded, and she headed to the back bedroom. Inside, the small stove was winking out its final ember, though the room remained pleasantly warm. Rory laid, still and peaceful, beneath the thick blankets. Violet approached and sat on the edge. She felt his forehead. A little warm, but leagues better than before. Rory’s eyes fluttered open and he looked up.
“Violet?” he croaked.
“Hush now.” Violet gently stroked his fiery locks. “You need your rest, Rory.”
“M’hungry.”
“Oh are ya? Well, that’s good. You wasn’t much before. What would you like?”
“Mmm…hot cakes…some’a Grammy’s hot cakes. N’butter milk.”
Violet chuckled. “Well, I dunno if I can make ‘em like Grammy makes ‘em, but I’ll try. Sound good?” Rory nodded, and Violet laid a kiss on his forehead. “You rest, and I’ll see about them cakes.” Rory’s eyes closed, and he curled to his side.
Violet stepped back into the kitchen, mouth open to ask about flour, when he spotted the exchange between Victor and Mei. A telegram was in Victor’s hand, and was halfway to Mei’s own. “…didn’t know when I’d be able to get this to you. Good thing you found your way here.”
“Whassat?” Violet asked, stepping closer. “Another job?”
Mei nodded, folding open the telegram. “Trouble out in Utah. Mean som’bitch out there kidnapping girls for his whore house.” Mei showed Violet the telegram. “One of their brothers is offerin’ us a nice sum to shoot him dead.” Violet scanned the telegram.
TO RW STOP
H MILLS BROTHEL OWNER STOP
S LAKE UT STOP
KIDNAPPED SISTER STOP
$1500 REWARD STOP
T LAWRENCE
“Can we trust this?” Violet asked.
“Should be trustworthy,” said Victor. “My sources say this Mr. Lawrence is at his wits end. I feel it’s a legitimate offer.”
“Where can we find him?” Mei inquired.
“Telegram is stamped coming through Ogden.” Victor flipped it over, showing Mei the time stamp. “I’d start there.”
Mei tucked the telegram into her vest. “Answer him. Once Rory regains his health, we should make Ogden by the winter thaw.”
“Speaking of Rory,” Violet piped up. “Think you got some hot cake fixin’s for him? The boy’s mighty hungry.”
Victor smiled, his eyes twinkling. “I’m sure I could scrounge up some flour, yes.”
“What in the world?” Violet and Victor both turned as Mei caught sight of something outside. Linus and Sitting Bear, each mounted, trotted towards Victor’s home. With a passing glance, the three met the men at the doorstep. Deep down, Violet felt her gut twist.
“What’s wrong?” she said. Linus dismounted, his shoulders slumped and his face fallen.
“It’s Grammy,” he said. “She’s gone.”
* * * *
Digging a grave in winter ground was no easy task. It took each of the Railwalkers and some hands from the town to help make it deep enough. By the end of the morning, Violet’s hands were raw and red, made worse by the bitter cold. The service was held that afternoon, and the whole town gathered to see her off. As the preacher spoke, four men lowered Grammy’s pine box beneath the earth, and mourners began to toss handfuls of dirt and snow onto the lid.
“It was so sudden,” said Linus, almost to himself. “It was just…We had come in to check on her, and there she was. Quiet.”
Sitting Bear nodded, solemnly. “It was her time,” he said, “and she went in peace. That is all we can ask of the world.”
They went silent, listening to the even voice of the preacher. Violet glanced behind her. Rory, of course, was kept inside for his health, but that didn’t stop him from staring through the window. Even at a distance, Violet could spot Rory’s watery eyes. With only a nod, Violet left the service and headed for Victor’s house.
“You should be in bed, Rory.” Rory didn’t so much as turn to her. Instead, wrapped in a blanket, he pressed his face to the window, body heat fogging up the glass. Tears fell down his ruddy cheeks, pooling at the end of his chin. He cried without reservation, and in a way, Violet was thankful. She crouched beside him and watched the funeral through the window. “I’m sorry.”
“Why’d she have to die?” Rory rubbed his face, still staring straight ahead.
“Everyone dies. Just what happens.”
“Bad people die,” Rory said. “But why’d she have to die? She wasn’t even sick like me.”
Gently, Violet threaded her fingers through Rory’s hair. “She wasn’t. But she was old.” Violet sat against the wall beneath the sill, her hands in her lap. “We only got so long in this life, Rory. We don’t know when it’s all over. Sometimes, we know it’s comin’, and we can prepare. Other times…” Violet shook her head. “It just happens.”
With a deep sniff, Rory curled into Violet’s lap. She held him against her breast as he controlled his shuddering breath. Violet let him linger for as long as he needed. Eventually, Victor entered, followed by Mei, Linus, and Sitting Bear. Standing, Violet carried Rory back into the bedroom and tucked him in. “The important thing,” she said, “was that you got your time with her.” Rory laid his head on the pillow, clutching the blankets to his chin. “You got to love her, didn’t you?” Rory nodded. “She told you stories, right? What were some of your favorites?”
Rory hesitated, his eyes wandering around the room. “I liked them lil’ people. The ones who take your shoes and eat your bread. They’re always funny.”
Violet smiled. “Is that right? What else did they do?”
“Sometimes, they drank your milk right out of the glass, if you left it out at night. And they’d eat your honey, and steal your coins when you ain’t lookin’.” Rory rubbed his nose. “You always gotta be careful so that they don’t sneak inside.”
“I see,” said Violet. “I’ll be sure to keep an eye on our milk and honey. All right?” She kissed Rory’s head. “Get some sleep, sweet boy.” Rory yawned, and Violet left him to rest. Closing the door, she came upon the others speaking lowly in the parlor.
“How’s he doin’?” Mei asked.
“Good enough,” Violet sighed. “Hit him hard, of course. But he’ll be all right.”
Mei sat herself on the sofa, hands on her knees. “That boy don’t need no more tragedy. Christ. He’s been through enough as is.”
“He’s tough,” said Linus. “He’ll pull through, same as always.”
“But he shouldn’t have to pull through,” said Mei. “He’s a child. He should—he should be with children his own age. Maybe learnin’ numbers or letters the right way. In a classroom, with a teacher. He should have a home to go to, shouldn’t he? Somewhere he can sleep, all cozy in a real bed…”
Violet edged closer. “Mei?”
Mei pinched her nose. Her shoulders were hunched as she leaned over her lap. “He don’t deserve our life. He needs…” She wiped her face harshly and looked around. “He needs this. Don’t y’all see that?”
A silence met Mei’s question. Violet’s heart tugged at the prospect of leaving Rory behind, but she couldn’t deny the reasoning. This life, the life of a Railwalker, it was dangerous for someone as vulnerable as Rory. All the violence he witnessed, all the death. What did something like that do to a child? There were times when Violet forgot Rory’s age, and other times where she was reminded far too well. Violet sat beside Mei. She reached over and gently took her hand.
Victor was the next to speak. “Mei…” They looked up. “My house is lonely. I could care for him. Keep him safe.”
Linus lowered himself to the armchair, and stared blankly into the fire. “He could get a proper education here. Learn things like the other children. Maybe make some friends.”
Mei sniffed harshly. Standing quickly, she helped herself to Victor’s brandy. Victor didn’t stop her. “It’s not an easy decision,” Victor acknowledged. “I know how much you love him. All of you…But your world is no place for a child.”
Gently, Mei set her empty glass on the table. Her dark eyes dared not stray from the blank space on the wall. Slowly, she nodded. The decision was made. “Who’s gonna tell him?” No answer. Mei rounded to the room. “I’ll do it.”
“Wait.” Violet stood, blocking her path to the bedroom. “Let him rest. Let us have just a few more days together. And then we’ll…” The words died in her throat, and she swallowed back tears.
Linus, his head rolling to the back of his chair, stared up at the ceiling. “We’re gonna need more liquor.”
Rory remained in bed for the next three days. In that time, Violet spent every waking second by his bedside. She hardly even had the will to sleep, lest she miss one precious moment with the boy. As he felt better, Rory retold Grammy’s Irish stories to keep them entertained. In dull moments, Linus brought out his harmonica, and he and Rory sang songs (though poorly). On the third night, Victor made a hot stew, and Rory had the strength to eat in the parlor with the others. They laughed and told stories, and eventually, Rory was so tired that he nearly fell asleep in his soup. Sitting Bear, who was even more quiet than usual, brought him to bed.
No one got much sleep that night. They all knew what had to happen the next morning.
Each of them took time to secure supplies and ready the horses. The storm was over, but it would be a hard journey out of the snow. If they left early enough, they’d make it far enough south not to freeze to death on their way to Utah. But they’d have to leave by dawn. Violet had never dreaded first light so much before.
The clock struck five. All the Railwalkers stared at it, as if to curse it for keeping time. Mei was the first one to stand. “We shouldn’t tell him.”
“What?” said Violet. “We ain’t even gonna say goodbye?”
Mei struggled to answer. “I…I can’t see that boy’s heart break. I’m sorry, I just can’t.”
Linus was the next to stand, his hat clutched in his hands. “It’ll be easier for all of us if we just…weren’t here.”
“No.” Violet stood, her heart heavy as stone. “No, that’s some yella talk if I ever heard it. You’re just gonna walk out that boy’s life without so much as a reason? What will he think? What will he think when he wakes up to find his family gone?”
Mei threw her coat over her shoulders, unable to make eye contact. “If I see those teary eyes one more time, I know I won’t be able to leave him, Violet. I know it.”
Violet looked to Linus, who remained in line with Mei’s decision. Violet turned to Sitting Bear. “Bear? Are you just gonna…?” Sitting Bear remained ever silent. His face was unreadable. Dawning his hat, he passed the rest of them and walked out into the cold. Violet’s voice threatened to break, but she spoke anyway. “Well, I ain’t leavin’ without sayin’ goodbye. He’s owed that much.” Violet walked toward the bedroom, and, halfway there, stopped. She stared at the door, her hand twitching by her side. Violet had faced murderers, and rapists, perhaps even God Himself, and yet the prospect of facing a little boy behind that door halted her in her tracks. Her hand trembling, she finally managed to open it, and stepped inside.
Both Victor and Rory were asleep in bed. Victor was wrapped up in his own blanket on top of the comforter, while Rory was tucked away comfortably against the pillows. Violet walked to Rory’s bedside. She knelt down. “Rory…” she breathed.
Rory’s eyelids shifted, and he blinked awake. “Whassit…? S’it breakfast?”
“No, Rory, it isn’t breakfast.” Violet tried to swallow the knot in her throat, but it was nearly impossible. “Rory we…we have to go.”
“Oh.” Rory yawned and sat up, rubbing his tired eye. “We can’t have no breakfast before we go?”
“That’s not…” Violet’s heart cracked. “No. We have to go. And you…you gotta stay right here, Rory.” Beside him, Victor shifted awake, but remained still. “Can you do that for us? You gotta stay safe.”
Rory stared, dumbfounded. “Stay safe…” he repeated. His ginger brows furrowed over his freckled nose. “Wait. What…You want me to stay?”
“Yes, Rory. We need you to stay here.”
“When…when are y’all comin’ back? Is it…” Rory looked between Victor and Violet, desperately searching for an answer. “Are you comin’ back with trappin’s? How long do I gotta wait?”
“No I—Rory I don’t know how long it’ll be.” Violet laid her hand on Rory’s cheek. It was heating up, but not from fever. “We have to go. And we can’t take you with us. We can’t put you in danger anymore.”
Behind those hazel green eyes, Violet saw things click in Rory’s mind. His breathing grew quick and labored. He suddenly grabbed Violet’s wrist with both his hands. “Oh no…oh no, no, no, Violet, don’t leave me behind. Is it—was I bad? I won’t be bad no more, I swear it!”
Violet’s gaze clouded with white-hot tears. “No, Rory. You were so, so good. That’s why you gotta stay behind.”
“No!” Rory clung to Violet’s neck, now suddenly crying hysterically. “No, I don’t wanna—!”
“Rory, I’m sorry.”
“Please don’t! Don’t leave me behind, Violet!”
“I’m so sorry. I wish—”
“Don’t leave me! No, don’t leave me!”
“I love you, Rory.”
Violet’s whole body ached as she pulled from Rory’s arms. Victor held his shoulders, keeping them apart. Rory sobbed wildly, grasping at the air as Violet exited. “Violet, no! No no no no! Violet!”
Violet closed the bedroom door behind her. Her entire face contorted in pain, and as she grasped the handle tightly, she cried. She cried for Rory’s pain, for her own. She cried for the love she held for him, and the longing to trade anything and everything to keep Rory safe and keep him with them. But this was reality. It would only be a matter of time before Rory was caught by a stray bullet, or taken by a fever while on the road. This was for the best.
With Rory screaming in the background, Violet made her exit from Victor’s home. The others were already saddled and ready to go. From around the bend, Violet could hear Sweetpea hawing in distress, as though she knew something was not right, either. As Violet mounted Maple, the cold wind bit at her teary cheeks, causing pain to shoot down her face.
Just as they were ready to depart, the front door flew open, and Rory flung himself out into the snow before Victor dragged him back to the house. “No!” He screamed. “You said you’d never leave, Violet! You said you’d never leave!” The Railwalkers spurred their horses, and with their hearts in a thousand pieces each, they rode off into the sunrise, leaving Rory to weep in Victor’s arms.