"I know the mark beside her ear. I know what happened when she was born. I know the blanket she wore. I am her mother."
The older woman stood beside her.
"And I will not let her face those people alone."
The widow looked toward the marshal.
"These are grown women. You can explain the danger. But you ought to let them make their own decisions."
The marshal considered that.
Then nodded.
"All right. But we travel together, and nobody approaches the estate without a plan."
The younger woman agreed immediately.
The older woman looked toward me.
"You will ride with us?"
I nodded.
"Yes."
She studied my face.
Then gave a small smile.
"Good."
We left Cuervo Creek two days later, after the physician confirmed that the women's condition had improved enough for careful travel.
The widow provided a covered wagon, blankets, water, and enough food for several days. The baker delivered fresh bread without charge. The tall ranch hand offered to drive the wagon, and the marshal accepted after confirming that his earlier statement had been recorded.
When the younger woman climbed into the wagon, she looked toward the street leading to the cottonwood tree.
For a moment, she became still.
I followed her gaze.
The rope was gone.
The branch stood empty.
But I could see the memory in her face.
I approached the wagon.
"Are you all right?"
She swallowed.
"I thought I would die there."
I nodded.
"I know."
She looked toward the tree.
"Those men were laughing."
I didn't answer.
After a moment, she turned toward me.
"Do you think they will ever understand what they did?"
I considered the question.
"Some might."
"And the others?"
I looked toward the northern road.
"Then they'll have to live with being held responsible whether they understand it or not."
She nodded.
Then settled beneath the blanket.
We started north shortly after sunrise.
The road climbed through dry hills before descending into a broad valley where cottonwoods followed the course of a narrow river. The desert changed as we traveled. Red sandstone gave way to open grassland, then rocky slopes covered with juniper and scattered pine.
I rode beside the wagon.
The marshal traveled ahead.
His second officer guarded the rear.
The younger woman spent much of the first day watching the landscape, speaking only when she needed something. The older woman sat beside her, occasionally pointing toward distant mountains and identifying landmarks she remembered from earlier journeys.
By late afternoon, I noticed that the older woman had begun studying me whenever she thought I wasn't looking.
Finally, I rode closer.
"Something on your mind?"
She smiled faintly.
"Many things."