Part Three

The news was all over the territory. She didn't even have to go into Laramie to read it out of the gazette's special edition. A passerby had already let loose of the details as she was hanging out the morning laundry. Oh, how the thrill set her heart to racing.

Edith put her hand against her chest. It was still going strong!

A long inhale going into her lungs, Edith reveled by the scent of smoke in the air. Yes, she knew it was only coming from the fireplace inside of her home, not floating from miles away, yet the rich spice of logs turning to char was so pleasant to her being that she kept taking in the wonderful drafts. There was no need for her to wonder why. It was, after all, how they had died.

"There was a fire at the Sherman ranch!"

She purposely forced the repeat inside of her head to stop right there. The last part had to be savored, enjoyed to the point that she would never forget how it felt to experience a Vale's vengeance. As the emotion welled up inside of her, even developing a smear of water over her eyes, Edith could finally understand why Carl went as far as he had with Joe Cloud.

It was for this moment, this feeling, this powerful rush. And it was about to grow stronger, for Edith's mind was ready to scream out the detail most ultimate.

"Slim Sherman and Jess Harper are dead!"

There really were teardrops forming and Edith's fingers rose to brush them aside, but then she paused her hands midair. There was no need to hide their fall. These were tears of joy, not sorrow. This wasn't a day like those that tortured her being when Edith learned her loved ones had met their end. This was a day that equaled a new birth—hers!—because she could finally be set free.

Hemline lifted, Edith hurried into the house, her toes tapping out the kind of rhythm that belonged with a fiddler's happiest song. Until she stopped at the kitchen stove. There, Edith went so still, she didn't even breathe as she stared at the pot. Supper, that very supper, could finally be thrown away for good.

Hand reaching out, she touched the handle, but then the sound of hooves broke through her concentration and her head was given a shake. She should have waited for this moment of bliss. It was too solemn, yet just as sweet, and didn't deserve to be interrupted. But interrupted it would remain.

Of course they wanted their pay. Why should she fault a pair of professionals for that?

If only she had let her childlike emotions stay hidden until the hefty sum was tucked inside of another pocket and then she could have let her excitement go on for all eternity. Now, she would have to wait for the little bumps of wonderment to return to her flesh. But it wasn't only the pleasurable bursts in her middle that would need to be welcomed back. She would have to wait that much longer to take supper off of the stove and bury it somewhere, anywhere, as long as she would never have to look at its moldiness again.

The pot pushed back where it belonged, Edith's shoulders were given a slight lift. "It can't be helped."

Hearing the knock at the door, Edith put her hand inside of her pocket to squeeze the roll of bills. She touched a pearl handle instead. That dream had done something to Edith besides making her ill. It had made her realize she needed to have a solid piece of security with her wherever she went. These weren't just simple men she was playing with. They were the ruthless sort, true killers, and because of this fact, Edith feared they might not merely take her money and run.

The derringer out long enough for her to be reminded that it was loaded with two sets of teeth, Edith tucked it back inside its hiding place and then walked to the door. To give her shaking hands something to hold onto, Edith grabbed a lace hanky and pressed it tightly into her palm. Another knock coming, now more insistent, Edith took a breath and opened the door.

There was an immediate hat tip of the taller one, and where in the world did a killer like this get such manners to offer a slight bow to go with it? "Afternoon, Mrs. Vale."

Confusion made her lips part, but somehow seeing her mother frown at the unladylike gesture, Edith put the hanky up to her mouth. "Please excuse me, I'm not feeling very well all of the sudden."

"I understand, Mrs. Vale. Do you need to sit down?"

The hand coming toward her elbow to steady her, she stared at the light hat atop his head. That's odd. Where was the black Stetson that he wore? Flicking her eyes over to the other man, she saw the darker shade and froze. This wasn't how the pair usually acted. It was the older, more handsome one that did all the business. The other was merely present, to look tough, to act mean, but this man didn't fit the description. Neither man did and she took a fearful step in reverse.

"Who… who are you?"

There was a flash of surprise in his eyes. "Mrs. Vale, don't you know who I am?"

With a blink, the faces became clear. All too clear. These weren't the men she had hired at all. It was her enemies, back from the dead. She had heard of ghost stories before and scoffed. Oh, the absurdity of such tales. There had never been a pale rider breaking free from his grave to haunt the one that killed him. Until now, that is. But then she had to shake her head, to clear it from whatever vision this was. Except after the shake, after the hard crashing of her eyelashes, the men were still in front of her. And so Edith had to wonder, if this wasn't just something kids made up to make other kids squeal and squirm, what else could it be?

Suddenly understanding the truth, the absolute reality that was in front of her, Edith's hand clapped over her cheek. "No. It can't be. You're dead."

"No, Mrs. Vale. The two men you hired are dead. Jess and I are very much alive."

"Oh, no. No, it can't be!"

"It's true, Ma'am," said the voice with a southern drawl and she stared into blue so mesmerizing, Edith felt her knees weaken. That could never happen to a woman of her age. And definitely not from a man that she hated. She had to be coming close to fainting because what he said was right. It was true. No!

"Is something wrong, Mrs. Vale?"

"Tell me I'm dreaming. That's it!" Edith's mouth parted for a cackle to spring off of her tongue. "It's just another stupid dream. I've known it all along! In a moment I'll wake and scream until my blood runs cold."

"Mrs. Vale, I can guarantee you this isn't a dream. It's real. Jess and I are alive."

"You're lying!" She flung both hands outward to push the tall one away from her. "You're dead! You have to be! That man this morning said you were!"

"No, Mrs. Vale. We sent that rider ahead of us this morning to tell you about what happened out at the ranch. We just didn't want you to know which two men were really killed."

She stepped backward as if he had returned the gesture and hit her across the jaw. "You killed them?"

"We did," he answered, opening his vest wide enough to bring a piece of paper out of the inner pocket. "One of them had a letter. Would you like me to read it to you?"

"It's a lie," Edith stammered, her eyes just as jumpy as they darted back and forth between the sets of blue. "I didn't hire them."

"We know you did."

Frustration, anger, fear, absolutely every emotion in her being made her fingers sink into her pocket to squeeze the derringer. But what use could it be? The two men in front of her were wearing their guns. The moment she exposed its deadly presence, they would fill their own hands. And theirs held six each. Edith's weapon only carried two.

Hand clinging to her only source of hope, she made a sudden movement and flung the door in their faces. The lock slamming shut, she added the extra security bolt and raced away in a flurry of black.

"Poor woman," Slim said as he stared at the closed door, where only a moment before, Mrs. Vale had stood. "I feel sorry for her."

"Would you've said that if it really'd been us that was killed last night?"

Slim shrugged. "No, I suppose not. But you saw her the same as I did."

"She looked crazy to me."

"Maybe that, Jess, maybe something more. She has lost a lot."

"I reckon. Well, what're we gonna do now? And tell me you don't feel so sorry for her that you're gonna ride away and forget what she's done."

"No, I'm not going to forget it. I'd like to talk to her, though."

"That didn't turn out so good last time."

"I guess I'll have to try again," Slim said, giving the door a tap with his knuckles. "Open up, Mrs. Vale."

A minute gone by, Slim put his hand on the knob. When it didn't roll over, he reached for the window. It was also locked. Stepping away from the porch, the partners walked around the side of the house. Considering the tight seal over the front, they didn't really expect the kitchen door to open for them, but at the sound of the top hinge giving a soft whine, Slim peeked into the room.

"She in there?"

"No," Slim answered, his eyes following the lines of the house upward. "Probably ran up to the bedroom."

"I dunno if it's a good idea to go tap on that door the same as you did the front."

"I won't. Hopefully I can talk her out. Come on, Jess."

It felt strange to walk into a house without an invitation. Slim had grown up next to the Vale's, so the two families were far from strangers, yet the farther he went into the kitchen, it was as if Slim had stepped into an entirely different world. Looking toward Jess, Slim noticed that his partner was just as uncomfortable. But there was no mystery for the goose bumps that tickled both hides. Edith Vale wanted them dead.

The dining table held a coffee cup and the saucer it sat on. There was a towel hanging from a peg by the window. Along the sill were three violets that desperately needed their soil dampened and since the kitchen had been built with a pump over the sink, Slim filled a glass to perk the green leaves up again. There was also a pot on the stove, and after the cup had been returned to its position on the shelf, he walked toward the stove. And there he stopped and stared. One would think he had never seen supper cooking before, except, this was no normal supper that was cooking.

"Look at this, Jess."

"What is it?"

Taking up the wooden spoon, Slim tried to stir the sticky mess. It wouldn't budge. "I'm not sure. I think it was edible at some point, though. That's definitely aged beef that I'm smelling."

"Better not get close to it, Slim. Knowing the way those other fellas came at us, she mighta cooked up some poison for our arrival."

"She didn't know we were coming over. Mrs. Vale thought we were dead, remember?"

"So if it ain't for our benefit, then who's it for?"

"Could have been for anyone at anytime. By the mold growing on the inside of the pan, I'd say it's been sitting here a long time."

"Dadgum. Why not throw it out when it first turned sour?"

The spoon returning to its rest, he shook his head. "I'm afraid Mrs. Vale is a lot sicker than we realize."

"What're we gonna do, Slim? There ain't no law in town. Should we go for the doc instead?"

"I'm not sure. While I know she's got to have some kind of sentencing for hiring out to kill us, I also don't want her to be put into an insane asylum."

"How's that any different than jail?"

"You've got a point, Jess."

She had heard them. The stairs began their climb in the center of the parlor, but as they had a sharp angle directing the incline toward the two bedrooms, that put the upper platform next to the kitchen. This was where Edith stood, shroud in the shadows where they couldn't see. Of course it was easy for her to hide there, what with her forever wearing the shade of black.

And that thought of forever became rather chilling.

Jail? Asylum? Was that really what her future would hold? In a way, this was exactly what she had been suffering through this past week. No, it had been longer since Kenny died. Already this eternal darkness had stolen too many pieces of her mind and she felt lost, separated, disconnected from so much, especially from those she loved. But there was something worse than losing some of her sanity. If her life became surrounded by an endless amount of bars, there would be no escaping that kind of enclosure. Slim Sherman was right. That was exactly what she was owed. And since she had already experienced one version of hell, Edith knew she couldn't take a heftier punishment.

Fear and fury colliding with each other, her face went paper white. Her knuckles looked the same as she crammed the entire set on her left hand into her mouth. What could she possibly do? And then as she tasted her wedding ring, and somehow the man that had put it there, color and warmth slowly seeped back into her cheeks. She knew exactly what to do.

It was Carl's way, it was Luke's way. If he had got any older, likely it would have been Kenny's way, too. And now it was Edith's way.

The derringer felt like a hot poker against her hip, but she didn't pull it out. At the time Edith wanted to forget every image that had been a part of that despicable nightmare. Right now she was thankful very few of it had been erased and closing her eyes, it wasn't difficult to recreate the scene that had led to her awakening. True, it was fake then, but it could become very real now.

Crawling to the bedroom, Edith pulled the rifle away from the closet and checked its interior. It needed to be fed first. Carl's dresser drawer coming open, Edith found the boxes of shells and began tucking them into their slot. If only her hands could be steadied! They would have to be if she was going to put a proper aim on her enemies, but there they were, quivering so hard that with every bullet she put into the rifle, two more jumped to the floor, rolling to the far end of the room.

"What was that?" Slim asked, looking up, although the sound being directly overhead, it was not.

Jess' eyes finding a better aim, he gave the corner ceiling a point. "Kinda sounded like a mouse scurrying around."

"Maybe. But I don't usually feel chilled with a mouse close by."

"No. A lady might, though."

At another little tumble across the floor above them, their blue eyes lifted in unison, but it was Slim that prepared his voice by clearing his throat. "I wonder if we should check on her."

"Most womenfolk scream if they see a mouse, Slim."

He nodded. "Yeah. If it is a mouse. Come on, Jess."

That strange feeling of being intruders going with them into the other room, their walk out of the kitchen was slow. Boots against carpet, the only sound was coming from the mantel and the clock that was ticking there. Of course their breaths were added into the silence. The puffs in and out of him so eerily noticed, Jess couldn't help but count his, Slim's and… who else? The sudden realization of being watched, Jess' hand hovered over his holster as he slowly turned to the upper level.

Through the railing Jess saw a flutter of black. Since the prickles on his skin had grown because of the thought of a mouse, it wasn't much of a stretch of his imagination to think it was a bat. Squinting into the darkness, Jess watched as the wings pulled back to where his blue couldn't reach. Jess' eyes rose higher trying to see, but as there could have been rafters up there, even an attic, the perfect place for a bat to hide until nightfall, the creature could easily have been missed in this glance. But then the little flurried dart returned. And with it was something more. Inside the wings was a distinct circle.

"Slim, up there!"

As Jess leapt onto his partner, the blast could only splinter a rung in the banister, not tear a piece of Slim's flesh wide open. Another one incoming, Jess ducked to miss its heat and then he looked up. He could see her better now. Where his brain had conjured a bat, in reality it was the lacy strands that hung from Edith's shawl. Right in the middle of what wrapped around her front was a rifle and as he listened to the crack that would toss the empty casing to the floor, he knew she was about to pull the trigger.

Jess' gun was in its proper point, but his thumb refused to work the hammer down. "I can't shoot a woman."

It was too bad Edith Vale didn't share his thoughts.

Emptying the rifle at them, the smoke was given time to dissipate as she fought her shaking hands a second time to reload. It was in this time of peace that the partners scrambled for the safety of the couch. Slim peeking along the left side of the cushion, Jess bent his head around the right. She had tucked herself back into the shadows again, so that there was little to see, but it was obvious that she was still above them, for a bullet skipped down the stairs.

"There's our mouse," Slim said.

"Yeah, and I reckon it ain't done trying to bite us."

That was definitely truth. Edith's hands rising, she found a pair of blue, it didn't matter which, and she pulled the trigger. Fortunately her aim wasn't skilled enough to put a hole between Slim's eyes, but it came close enough that he completely pulled out of her reach. The next bullet hitting the armrest near Jess' head, the inner material and a surprising amount of dust sprayed over his face. If it was a man against him, he would have sent off a rapid stream of lead in return by now. Likely the body would have already tumbled down the stairwell, gushing from a vital place. He couldn't do that to a woman. But then again, Edith Vale wasn't stopping her assault on them. There were already four holes in the couch, and the more she nibbled away at the cushions, there wouldn't be anything protecting them anymore.

Taking a deep breath, Jess' gun searched for the rifle. Maybe he could just nick her hand.

The sound of tears breaking through the clamor of gunfire, Slim's compassion pulled him away from his safety. "Mrs. Vale?"

"Get down, Slim," shouted Jess, a mere moment before her gun went off. "Whattya trying to do, be a dead hero?"

Slim's stomach barely hit the floor in time. "I thought I heard her crying."

"Yeah, well, she ain't shedding tears for us."

"No, but…"

"Slim. I know we're stuck in a hard place here what with her being a female and all, but we gotta do something."

"I know. I just wish we could think of a way out other than a bullet."

"Well, there ain't."

"Don't, Jess," Slim said, watching as Jess' gun moved from an accurate position to one that was too low to make a hit. "Not yet, anyway."

"How many more shots are you gonna let her take at us?"

"Hopefully no more," answered Slim as he dared to prop his head farther up. "Mrs. Vale! Please, listen to me for a minute."

"What for?" Her voice in a screech, it went up in both volume and pitch. "I have only one way out. And that's seeing you to your graves."

"There's got to be another way. Killing should never be an answer."

"It was for Carl, so why not me?"

"And what did it get Carl?" His question brought a round of silence where only their heartbeats existed. "Mrs. Vale?"

The sniffle was so loud it made everyone there jump. "It would've never happened if it wasn't for you. Don't you understand? You did this!"

"No, Mrs. Vale. Carl did this. And then Kenny, and then Luke."

A sob broke through her lips, the most guttural and heartbreaking sound she had ever mustered. "You can't be right, you just can't."

"Easy, Mrs. Vale. Lower your gun, please, and let me come up there. We can talk better that way."

"Slim." Jess' gun joined his warning and found the right direction once more. "Sure you've got her vulnerable, but don't let her tears fool you. She's still a conniving woman."

"No. She's a broken woman, Jess. I just can't let her suffer like this alone."

"I dunno, Slim. I don't like hearing her crying her eyes out either, but don't forget that rifle she's got with her has already come close to killing us more'n once. You stand up, she could knock you right down and I'll have no choice but to give it back the same."

"Keep it inside your gun unless you absolutely have to let it go, Jess. I'm standing up."

"All right, but don't say I never warned you."

He would never make it up to his knees. The tears making a sudden end, a fanatic laugh was its replacement and with it came an onslaught of bullets that kept Slim flattened to the floor. Jess was the only one that dared to let part of his flesh be exposed. And that was the hand that held his gun, his finger, though, that didn't make any kind of movement at all.

It would already be ended if it wasn't such a difficult decision to make. He could merely split her skin, put her arm in a sling or he could wait until she was out of ammunition. But how long could that take? All day, all night, or when they were dead?

Jess' lashes narrowed, he found a spot not so vital and then he held his breath. Every shot fired seemed to never have an end, as the sound rattled every piece of glass in the house, but this shot somehow had an even louder echo. Perhaps that was because at the same moment it went off, someone went very silent.

The eeriness pushing both men upward, they started at the bottom step and then slowly took each stair until there was nothing left to climb. There they found a puddle of red amid a pile of black.

"I didn't pull the trigger, Slim."

Seeing the derringer on the floor, Slim lowered his eyes, his head, even his soul bent down. "No, you didn't Jess. She did."

"You mean she…?"

"She killed herself."

"Dadgum. I reckon it really is over now."

"I'm sorry to say it," Slim said as he pulled the black shawl over her face, "but yes, it's finally over."

.:.

They weren't the only ones at her funeral. The group that gathered at the Laramie cemetery on that chilly morning was mostly made up of women, but there were a few men with hats held in hand as the casket was lowered into the dirt. The preacher was there, reading from the scriptures, speaking words of comfort, offering a prayer. When the Bible was closed and the dirt started filling in the hole, the people started to walk away. Earth's seal completed, the preacher stood by as an engraved cross was positioned at the head but then he, too, with solemn expression, walked back to town.

The only two remaining were Slim and Jess.

Standing side by side, the two partners stared at the markers, all so freshly placed that sun and rain hadn't faded any of the print yet. Someday it would. Time did have a way of erasing certain things, even memories. But no matter how many years passed, this particular piece of land would never change. It would forever hold them, in this straight, single row. Kenny, Luke, Carl and Edith. Because if you fight one Vale, you have to lick them all.