Chapter Three

"I did all of those things, you know, after Eden," Holly murmured, settling herself onto one of the wrought iron benches that ringed the dormant fountain. Trampas sat opposite her on the ledge of stone that encircled the empty basin, wanting to offer some measure of comfort - or maybe it was protection - but giving her room. He figured she'd need that.

"I cried and screamed until I had no voice left and no never mind who heard me either. Oh, and I did curse, oh yes, that too - man and beast, anything that still dared to live and breathe. And God, too, Him most of all - I cursed Him for leaving me behind without my Clay. It's true and I won't say I'm ashamed for any of it," she continued, idly combing her fingers through the fringes of her shawl - a clear admission that she was unsure just how to proceed, having said such a thing. Trampas had always respected that about Holly Grainger - the way her hands were constantly busy but always with a purpose - kneading bread, tending a wound, reining a horse - she'd rarely been one to fidget, not the way some women did.

He leaned in a bit, straining to catch her voice over the skittering of the shriveled leaves across the flagstones. There was a harshness to the sound that called to mind the warning buzz of a prairie rattler, desperate for escape but ready to strike if pushed too far. Rummaging in his coat pocket, he pulled out a small oblong of wood and his bone-handled knife. Seeing as how he was going to be the one doing a good bit of pushing, it seemed a useful thing to keep his own hands busy

"Well, now, I wouldn't doubt you did that," he stated, shaving away a long curl of wood, watching it spiral towards the ground. "Seems to me you had the right and then some. There's nobody would have any reason to say different. I don't suppose God minds so much, either. I imagine He can stand it."

"Anyone that was near me must have been certain I'd lost my senses." Holly's voice was barely more than a whisper, quivering like aspens caught in the first grip of winter. "Perhaps I had, demanding a reason for God's taking Clay from me in a place called Eden. No one could give me one. Of course, they couldn't. There was none. He and Stacy weren't even supposed to be in Colorado. They were meant to be half-way to New York to meet our ship when it docked." For a moment, her hands stilled. "We were going to finish Elizabeth's grand tour in such fine style and then head home to San Antonio, all of us together." She glanced at Trampas, a sad smile creasing the corners of her mouth as her fingers resumed their careful combing. "We'd even talked of coming to Shiloh to visit for a few days. It had been such a long time since we'd seen all of you."

"Been nearly five years since you left the place - hard to believe unless you start to take a count." Trampas met her eyes for a moment. "Virginian and I went down there - to Eden - soon as we heard. Sheriff told us there wasn't a fool's chance of finding Stace- said the flood swept everything downstream for miles when the trestles caved – told us we should be thankful we had at least one person we could claim." He ducked his head abruptly, shielding behind the wide brim of his hat, pretending interest in the next curl of wood sloughing off his knife blade. There was no point letting Holly see his memories - how fire and flood had twisted and destroyed wood and metal, bone and flesh, almost beyond recognition - how he'd fought to breathe around the raw and choking knot in his chest, how the Virginian's face had set into a mask as flat and gray as slate, how they'd ridden the river bank for three days with few words between them because neither dared allow themselves any sort of voice. Holly Grainger was a ranch woman, born and bred to an understanding of such things. She would already know.

"It didn't sit easy with either of us not to try." He continued to shield himself from her gaze. "I guess we looked like we weren't about to be stopped so folks pretty much left us alone. They had their own work to do."

Holly nodded, pulling her shawl more securely around her shoulders as she watched the careful play between the knife and the wood in his hands.

"I knew from Colonel McKenzie's telegrams that you'd both gone. That's when I sent the letter that you've put in the Shiloh bible. I wanted you to know how much that meant to Elizabeth and me, knowing you searched for Stacy the way you did, like you would a brother." She brushed a graying wisp of hair away from her face. "I'm eternally grateful to the Colonel for handling what was needed to bring Clay home and letting you both be gone from Shiloh so long. That was a great kindness to us."

Trampas' mouth quirked a bit to the side. "Well, now, I wouldn't say he was just being kind. He's a decent fella, don't get me wrong, but he didn't have much choice about us going, not if he wanted the two of us back anywhere near in time for autumn drive. You can't fault the Colonel for any lack of savvy, that's for sure."

"Do you like him?" Holly questioned, taking advantage of the moment to move away, however briefly, from remembering.

"He's an interesting sort, listens close when there's a reason to, holds his own in a fight, tells a good story now and then. I can't say 'like' is quite the word though." Trampas leaned back, shifting his weight. Holly couldn't help but notice the soft grunt that went along. She'd always thought of that small guttural sound as "the horseman's sigh". It was a breath of constant ache, common to those who spent their lives in the saddle.

"It's not the way it was with Morgan Starr, none of that. The Colonel got this notion a while back to travel to all the places where he soldiered - said he'd rather visit them than fight in them. He decided to set things so Virginian's right where he oughta be, partnerin' with him in an equal share of Shiloh. No more forty dollars a month and found for 'ol Trampas, either, no sir." A full-on grin broke across his face, the first Holly had seen since his arrival. "Shiloh foreman, that'd be me, right along with a thousand acres of fine Shiloh grass that's deeded as mine and a percentage of our profits. Virginian and me, we're just about as respectable as a church social but we still yell at each other plenty. Have to or folks would figure we weren't gettin' along. So, no, I can't say I'd fault the Colonel for much. He's been plenty fair and we've both benefited." The blade began to shave away larger pieces of the wood, a vague form beginning to take shape. The flash of grin was gone. "With Judge Garth, though, and old Mister Grainger… with your husband… Well, it was just… more." Trampas voice roughened, and Holly understood.

"Part of me keeps watchin' out for Stace," he continued, clearing his throat. "Stubbornness, I guess - can't help wonderin' if he might be around somewhere since we never had any real proof otherwise." Now it was his own hands that fell still. "It's an awful empty place, being lost in your own head - not knowing who you are, where you belong. When you think there's no one lookin' for you, you start to figure maybe you should just lay down somewhere and give up. Maybe I'd have done just that, a long time back, if it hadn't been for old Mr. Grainger."

"Yes, but you were never one to give in easily. I know that story," Holly nodded in sympathy. "Clay told me once, how John looked for you and found you when you'd been so badly hurt and had no memory.

Even now, Trampas could always call up the image of John Grainger, standing staunch and straight with his mane of white hair buffeted by the winds, the gruffness of his tone tempered by the worry that creased his brow…

"I know you… I know your name… "

Holly's voice pulled him back from his wandering.

"Trampas, do you truly have any reason to believe Stacey might be alive?"

He was sorry to note that there was no spark of hope in her question.

"There's nothing I could point to, no." He shook his head. "Nothing that says look here or go there. But Mr. Granger didn't give up on me - even when I had a gun pointed right at him, not knowing him - and I owe Stacy the same. I'm not so proper that I don't sit in on a good poker game now and again. If Stace's around, we're bound to meet up some time across a table and I'd lay a bet that he'd snap right to if he ever sees my smilin' face." His grin flickered again but just as quickly guttered out. "And if he is buried somewhere, well then, it would be better knowing where that is. So, I'll just keep an eye out."

When silence was all that followed, Trampas stood, pocketing the wood and knife as he crossed the few feet to the bench where Holly sat. After a moment's hesitance, he took a seat beside her. From a distance, he could hear the chiming of a bell tower marking the time as coming on to five. Nearly two hours there, and still so many questions he'd neither asked nor had answered. Soon enough, someone in the house was sure to interfere, deciding that poor Mrs. Grainger needed to be rescued from the deepening chill and the company of an uncouth cattleman.

"Mrs. Grainger… Holly… it's been nearly a year since Eden." Trampas laid his hand on her shoulder, tapping the slow and steady rhythm that was simply habit for him with any creature that was distressed. "I figure you came here to Chicago to find a place for you and Liz with people that were close to you in a different way. Maybe elsewhere, there were too many hard memories ridin' down on you every day. I can understand that. Maybe I wouldn't agree with it, but I'd understand it." With his free hand, carefully as if he feared it might crumble into dust, he took the folded newsprint from his coat pocket and placed it in Holy's lap. "This says plenty about what happened in that bank but I'm pretty sure there's a lot more to know than what's here. It says there was a robbery and that three people - one of them a child - were killed. It also says that Miss Elizabeth Granger was a witness and has withdrawn from all public and private engagements."

Holly brushed her fingers across the folded pages, letting them linger on the headline.

"Now that's a mouthful of nothing if you really pay attention. Holly, what else happened to Liz that day?" Trampas kept his arm around her shoulders pulling her closer, as if to shelter her from a rain of blows. "We've been circling here but now you should tell me. What doesn't it say?"

Turning to bury her face against the rough canvas of his coat, Holly answered.

"She died, Trampas. Our Elizabeth died."