If I Gave You My Heart Would You Take It
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“You’re a funny man.”
I was in my room at the house, sitting on one of those low-topped beds that were common here. The sheets had been changed since I arrived yesterday and now there weren’t so many stains as before. I was thinking about what I would have to do after this job when I heard her voice outside my door. “Are you in there?”
“Yes.”
She stepped into the room, closing it behind her. She wore a white cotton dress with a blue ribbon around the waist, but no bonnet; she had just let down her hair, which fell around her shoulders like dark water. She stopped next to me and stood looking down. After a few seconds, she said, “How’s your hand? Better?”
“It still aches some.”
She walked over to my bedside and looked down at the bandage. “You’ve taken good care of yourself.” Her tone made it clear how much she disapproved of my taking precautions.
The thought occurred to me that if I didn’t take care of myself, someone else would do it for me. And if it wasn’t one person…then it would be something worse. Like the two outlaws who tried to kill me last year. But then I knew what they wanted from me—what most people wanted from me.
They didn’t want to pay taxes or obey the law. All they cared about was getting rich quick. If you could get away with murder, well, that might make you rich too. That’s why they’d shot my mother and sister. I don’t understand them. Most men don’t seem to think things through very far when they decide to take another man’s life.
But maybe the world is better off without murderers. Maybe there are only two kinds of people: those who would stop a murderer, and those who wouldn’t. What kind were you? I looked up at her. She was looking at me curiously. I said nothing more but kept watching her face, wanting to know what I saw there.
“Why did you do it?” she asked quietly. “That’s what all my friends want to know. Why did you come back here when the townspeople hated you so?”
I shrugged and shook my head. “It seemed like a good idea at the time.” Then I added, “And I wanted to see you again.”
Her smile faded slowly, but her eyes stayed bright. “You came back here because of me?”
My answer caught me by surprise. “Of course! Who else would I come back for?”
“Me!” There was sudden brightness in her green eyes; she laughed lightly and moved closer, standing between my legs, holding my hand, stroking it with hers. “You’re not angry with me now, are you? About what happened the other day?”
“Angry? No, of course not. Why should I be?”
“Well,” she began and hesitated. “Maybe because I’m still married…”
“Married?” I repeated incredulously. “Who says you’re married?”
She looked hurt. “Don’t you believe me?”
I stared at her for an instant, wondering where she was headed. Was she trying to trap me into saying something incriminating? Did she think I was a liar, or just stupid?
Then I realized that I didn’t know anything about her past except the fact that she was a thief. If she said she had been married once, and if she really believed that marriage ended the way it did in the books…well, then, who am I to argue?
And if she hadn’t lied, but was telling me the truth—if I were going to have any chance of staying alive until she decided to leave her husband —then it wouldn’t do any harm for me to play along with her. “I can’t imagine what you mean.”
She pulled her hand out of mine and turned away. “Oh, forget it. It doesn’t matter anymore.”
I watched her as she crossed to the window, looking out. She was silent for a while and then she turned back to me and smiled. “It was a joke,” she said softly. “I’m sorry I upset you.”
“No, don’t apologize.” I got up from the bed. “What difference does it make if I’m angry with you now?”
“I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
I went to the bed and took her hands in mine, holding them gently. “You’re the first person I’ve ever told this to—” I hesitated. “Not the first one who knows about it,” I continued. “But the first one who knows what it was about.”
“Are you afraid someone will find out?”
“Yes.” I sighed. “If I tell anyone else, they’ll put me on trial for it.” I paused and looked away. “It won’t help me if they know I did it.”
“Do you mind if I ask you why?”
I thought of the two outlaws who wanted to kill me, the man who shot my mother and sister, and the man who had killed a horseman and tried to shoot me. The reason why each of these men did what he did is probably different.
Maybe some of them wanted revenge against others. Maybe some of them felt they owed money or property to other people. Maybe some of them just had a temper. Maybe one or two actually believed their crimes were justified and had a right to commit them.
But all of them, no matter how much they may have hated other people and resented paying taxes or obeying the law—and they were all men, of course…the only ones who ever kill people—all of them had the same basic thing in common:
They all felt superior to other people. I don’t say that in a judgmental way. Everyone thinks they’re better than someone else, even if it’s only by accident. In most cases, we don’t act on our thoughts, but there are times when things happen, like being shot down by a bullet and dying before you knew what hit you…or finding yourself tied to a chair by some man-hungry woman.
All these are horrible experiences, and many of us would feel inferior after having gone through them. Some people never recover from such an experience and become bitter. Others learn to cope. And sometimes people change. But it wasn’t so easy for me. The only one who had ever made me feel inferior was myself.
“I’ve always known that I was born under a bad sign,” I told her. “A star fell on me when I was a baby.”
“I’ve never heard anything like that. What is a bad sign?”
I laughed. “I wish I knew. My life has been full of misfortune ever since.” Then I added more seriously. “Sometimes it seems as though the worst is yet to come.”
For a moment, we stood silent, looking at each other.
Then I said, “Let’s get ready to go.”
***
We rode out of Dodge City in the early afternoon, leaving behind a city that seemed to grow larger and more dangerous with every passing day. We left behind the town itself and all the hustle and bustle and the noise, too; but the road ahead of us was lined with trees and brush, and I wondered where we were heading.
At one point I saw a wagon rumbling along beside the trail and wondered if it was ours. I couldn’t see our names painted on its side.
At the next rest stop, we stopped to fill water bottles at a stream. I washed my face in the icy cold water, wishing the chill could somehow be transferred into my heart and wash away the pain I felt when I thought of the last time I’d seen her. The memory brought tears to my eyes.
When we finally reached the prairie, the land rolled flat and empty, dotted here and there with scrubby vegetation. We traveled for miles without seeing another human being.
“Are you all right?” she asked.
I nodded. I didn’t know how to answer her question. Was I all right? Did I look like someone who had been hurt? Did she think I was suffering from shock? I was trying hard not to show how much I missed her.
The sun sank lower in the sky as we traveled eastward until there was only one thin line of light between the horizon and the western wall of the world. A faint mist lay over the landscape and it seemed almost as though the clouds were gathering together like a blanket to hide everything else beneath it. It looked as if it could rain anytime now, but we still hadn’t seen any signs of storms.
She rode close beside me, her hand resting lightly on my arm. She was dressed more casually than I was, wearing jeans and a plain cotton shirt. When we rode, the reins hung loosely in our hands. There were no spurs clanking on our heels and the horses’ hooves hardly broke the surface of the ground.
“Why are we taking this route?” I finally asked her.
“You know it doesn’t make sense to head west to California.”
“But it makes perfect sense to ride east, toward the mountains. Why else would we leave the main trail?”
“I want to keep your identity a secret.”
My eyes widened in surprise. I didn’t know what to say. I had assumed from the start that we were headed east, and that meant we were riding toward the end of our journey…but she was going to turn around.
“That’s ridiculous,” I protested, although I knew it wouldn’t do me any good. I knew very well that I would have to take up the reins myself and guide us through the wilderness. That’s exactly what I did.
We kept on walking in silence, moving deeper and deeper into the unknown, following the faintest of trails, hoping that somehow we would find our way. We rode all night, stopping occasionally to rest the horses, and once at sunset, we found ourselves on a wide plateau that stretched for miles.
I dismounted and led the mare to drink at the edge of a small river. It was shallow enough so the horse barely went under the water, but it took several long swallows before she could stand again. I waited with her while she drank until her thirst seemed satisfied.
“What happened to the wagon?” I asked.
“Someone stole it during the night.”
“Who was driving?”
“A young woman.”
“Why would anyone steal it?”
“They may not have stolen it at all. It might have been stolen by some bandits that tried to rob us and we fought them off.”
“And if they did steal it, why are we carrying the same things?”
She shrugged. “Maybe they stole the wagons because we were traveling in them. Maybe we’re on the wrong trail altogether.”
It sounded crazy. We both knew we weren’t lost, and I wasn’t about to let her convince me otherwise. She had gone back on her promise to me, but that didn’t mean the trip was ruined. If we followed the trail she gave us, I’d soon discover where our destination lay.
After she saddled the horse, I mounted and turned to lead her back to the path she had given us. We rode for several hours and I could tell by the sound of her breathing that she was struggling to breathe as well.
As I guided the mare along the narrow trail, we passed another traveler coming the other way. He was riding his own mount, and he wore an old-fashioned cavalry hat with a high crown that covered most of his face.
I wondered if it was someone from the army or someone with law enforcement duties. As I drew closer to him, I could see the top of a rifle sticking out from underneath the hat. The man looked at me with suspicious eyes. When he saw me looking back at him, he lowered the gun slowly and held it against his leg.
I rode on past without slowing down even though I wanted to ask him if he was all right. I knew if he told us to turn around, I would have no choice but to obey. But instead of asking him, we rode silently on through the wilderness, each of us trying to ignore the fact that we were heading straight for trouble.
***
The day grew shorter when we reached the mountains and the temperature plummeted. In spite of the thin coat I wore, I shivered beneath its weight as I led our horses over a low rise and found myself staring down at the valley far below.
I thought I would have a hard time believing that anything lived here; there seemed to be no sign of life, not even a single tree. The rocks that rose above the plateau were covered with snow, except for the ones that lay exposed along the edges where wind and rain had worn away their smoothness and left behind sharp ridges.
The sun had gone down and darkness had already fallen when we stopped to rest our horses. The valley was silent now, and only then did I realize how much noise we had made riding across the plains.
I dismounted and led my mare to a thicket of bushes at the base of the cliffs and tied her to a bush so she could graze on whatever she found there. I tethered my bay gelding alongside her to prevent them from wandering farther from the trail.
Then I sat down on a large boulder and pulled out a blanket. I laid the blanket on my lap, put the hat on top of it, and placed the gun within easy reach next to my hand. I could feel my heart thumping as I watched the shadows deepen across the ground.
“Don’t worry, Mr. Tanner,” I said aloud. “This is just a job like any other.”
“No it isn’t,” she argued, and the words echoed in my head. I was still debating with myself whether I should call her bluff or not when I heard footsteps coming up behind me and realized she was standing right behind me, staring intently at the valley floor far below.
“Do you know what lives down there?” I asked, turning to look at her.
“Only animals. Bears and coyotes and maybe mountain lions.”
“How can you tell?”
“Animals usually make noise when they move or fight—they snarl, growl, snap their teeth together—”
“And people don’t? Do they?”
She hesitated and I knew I had her attention. Finally, she nodded and answered, “Yes.”
“Then why are we going down there tonight?” I asked, but before she could answer, I added, “You’ve seen it before.”
“We’re going there tonight to hunt.”
“Hunt? What do you mean by hunt? And where will you get your prey if you aren’t looking for it ahead of time?”
“That’s part of the fun. You never know who or what you might find lurking in those caves. It could be a bandit or a madman or someone with something very important to hide.”
I didn’t say anything more as I stared at the dark shadows creeping across the land. There was nothing there, not even one small animal. I could almost imagine the valley filled with men, waiting for me, and then I remembered it wasn’t imagination I was dealing with. They were real, and they were following me.
As we rode into the valley, I noticed that my hand was shaking slightly and I forced myself to relax as we approached the edge of a steep cliff. From this vantage point, we had a clear view of the rocky ledge that dropped off at an angle and disappeared into the blackness of the valley far below.
At the bottom of the cliff, the rocks gave way to bare earth covered with patches of snow. I couldn’t help wondering how many men had died falling down this same slope.
It occurred to me then that if I fell off and broke my neck, there wouldn’t be anyone to rescue me, so I pushed the thought aside. We continued toward the ledge until we reached the bottom and came upon several men sitting under a pine tree, each armed and ready.
Two others waited nearby with rifles. I recognized two of them: the man called “Gunslinger,” who always carried a Colt revolver in his holster and kept both hands free even when he was talking; and the man with the broken nose whose name I hadn’t learned yet. Both wore long coats, but neither looked warm enough for the temperature.
“What are you doing here?” the man named Gunslinger asked, looking at me and then back at the ledge. “Aren’t you supposed to be in San Francisco?”
“I’m taking a short vacation,” I told him. “But we’ll be back in California soon.”
“Who are these guys?” the broken-nosed man asked as he pointed his rifle at my companions.
“These are the best friends I could ask for.”
“Friends?” Gunsmoke laughed. “They look more like hired killers to me.”
“Maybe they’re working for the same person as us,” I suggested.
“Why would you hire them to kill a bunch of innocent women and children?” the man called Gunslinger asked, frowning as he turned back to face the ledge. “If you wanted to kill someone, why not just go after the men?”
“Because sometimes the enemy hides among the people you love most. If you take out a group of innocent women and kids, you won’t have to worry about anyone else getting hurt.”
The broken nose smiled as he studied me for a minute, then glanced away and muttered, “Smartass.”
I ignored his comment. “So tell me what exactly you plan on hunting down there.”
“You’re not coming with us tonight, Ms. Blake,” Gunsmoke said, turning to stare down at me again. “This is our hunt, and only we can hunt down there. So don’t try any tricks.”
“You want to keep your secrets to yourself, then so be it, but I intend to go along.”
“We’ve been waiting for you,” the broken-nose man told me. “You’ll need a horse.”
“Which one of you owns a gray stallion?” I asked, trying to sound calm.
“That’s mine,” Gunslinger replied, nodding toward his horse.
“Good,” I said. “Get on board now.”
He did as he was told while I led his horse over to the gray mare and climbed up behind him. When I settled onto his back, I felt the horse shift beneath me and his muscles tense as if he knew what I was about to do.
But instead of pulling away from me, the mare stood quietly, almost as if she were waiting for me. After all, she was used to being ridden by me every day. The horse seemed to sense that I was going to ride away, which meant he had little choice but to follow me, so he walked over to a patch of tall grass and began grazing.
As I pulled on his reins to guide him around the trees that lined the ledge, Gunslinger watched me closely. He didn’t seem convinced that I’d actually gone along with this crazy scheme. Maybe he suspected there would be more trouble than I could handle on my own.
Or maybe he simply couldn’t believe that I’d agreed to accompany him. Either way, I hoped he wouldn’t question my decision too much later. That way, if things went wrong, I wouldn’t have to answer for it.
We left the clearing and made our way through the forest, making a slow circuit around the cliff until we came out near where we’d started. A few minutes later, we passed two large boulders and rode toward the narrow opening between them. Once we were inside, Gunslinger stopped his horse and pointed to a trail of crushed leaves, which led off to one side of the rocks. “Follow it to the top.”
I slid off the horse and followed the faint path as far as I could go, keeping an eye out for anything suspicious. But we came out into a wide clearing without encountering any signs of a trap or ambush, and soon we were walking through the tall grass toward the base of the cliffs.
I heard the sound of water trickling down rock walls ahead and knew that we must be getting close. The sun was setting, and the sky looked like a painting of orange and red. The air smelled of salt and sea spray.
I thought about how nice it would be to have a blanket spread out on some deserted beach under a cloudless blue sky, watching gulls dive for fish. Then I remembered that I’d never experienced such a thing because of the war and everything else that had happened since.
Still, I couldn’t help thinking about my mother and sisters and wishing I’d seen them before leaving for the mission field. I wondered what they were doing now—and what had become of Danforth, the man who’d raised them. As I stared at the cliff wall, I felt tears sting my eyes. It wasn’t fair.
I wiped them away. We’d come here for one reason only. To find the enemy who had set this whole plan in motion. “Let’s go,” I whispered. “Before we run out of time.”
The End