"It's me, Dee," she said.

Dee just stared at her and at the large man holding her in his arms. Ellie realized he might have the wrong idea about Zwey, although he had never been particularly the jealous type.

"It's just Zwey," she whispered. "Him and Luke brought me in the wagon.

"There ain't nobody else?" Dee said, coming close to the bars and trying to peer out

Ellie didn't know what was wrong. He could see it was her, and yet he hardly looked at her. He seemed scared, and his hair had little pieces of cotton ticking in it from a tear in the thin mattress he slept on. The scruffy growth of whiskers made him seem a lot older than she had remembered him.

"It's just me," Elmira whispered. She was beginning to feel scared-she felt so weak she could hardly hold her eyes open, and she wanted more than anything to talk to Dee. She didn't want to faint before they had their talk, and yet she was afraid she might.

"I left July," she said. "I couldn't do it. All I could think of was you, the whole time. I should have gone with you and not even tried it. I took a whiskey boat and then Zwey and Luke brought me in the wagon. I had a baby but I left it. I been coming back to you as quick as I could, Dee."

Dee kept trying to peer around them, as if he was sure there were more people than he could see. Finally he stopped trying, and looked at her. She was hoping for' the old smile, but Dee didn't have it in him to smile.

"They're gonna hang me, Ellie," he said. "That's why I jumped up-I been expecting lynchers."

Elmira couldn't believe it. Dee had never done anything wrong-not wrong enough to make people hang him. He gambled and flirted, but those weren't hanging crimes.

"Why, Dee?" she asked.

Dee shrugged. "Killed a boy," he said. "I was just trying to scare him and he jumped the wrong way."

Ellie felt confused. She had never even heard of Dee Boot shooting a gun. He carried one, like all men did, but he never ever practiced with it that she knew. Why would he try to scare a boy?

"Was he aggravating you, or what?" she asked.

Dee shrugged again. "It was a settler's boy," he said. "Some cowmen hired me to run the settlers out. Most of them will run if you shoot over their heads a time or two. This one just moved the wrong way."

"We'll get you out," Elmira said. "Zwey and Luke will help me."

Dee looked at the big man holding Ellie. He did look big enough to pull the little jail apart-but of course he couldn't do it while he was holding a sick woman.

"I'm due to hang next Friday, but they may come lynch me first," Dee said.

Zwey felt something wet on his arms. Ellie was so light he didn't mind holding her. The sun was up and they could see into the cell a little better. Zwey didn't know why he felt so wet. He shifted Ellie a little and saw to his shock that the wetness was blood.

"She's bleeding," he said.

Dee looked out and saw that blood was dripping off Ellie's nightdress.

"Get her to the Doc," Dee said. "Leon knows where he lives."

Dee began to yell for the deputy and soon Leon came running around the jail. Elmira didn't want to go. She wanted to stay and talk to Dee, assure him that it would be all right, they would get him out. She would never let them hang Dee Boot. She looked in at him, but she couldn't talk anymore. She couldn't say the things she wanted to say. She tried, but no words came out. Her eyes wanted to close, and no matter how hard she tried to keep them open and look at Dee, they kept trying to close. She tried to see Dee again, as Zwey was carrying her away, but Dee's face was lost in a patch of sunlight. The sun shone brightly against the wall of the jail and Dee's face was lost in the light. Then, despite herself, her head fell back against Zwey's arm and all she could see was the sky.

IT SEEMED TO JULY that he was nearly as cursed as Job when it came to catching Elmira. Despite his caution, he kept having accidents and setbacks of a kind that had never happened at home in Fort Smith. Three days out of Dodge, the new horse he had bought, which turned out not to be well-broken, fell and crippled himself trying to throw a hobble. July waited a day, hoping it wasn't as bad as he thought it was-but the next day he saw it was even worse. It hardly seemed possible to lose two horses on one trip, when he had never lost a horse before in his life, but it was a fact he had to face.

With that fact went another: he wasn't likely to get another horse unless he went back to Dodge. North of him there was only the plains, until he came to the Platte River-a long walk. July hated to double back on himself, but he had no choice. It was as if Dodge City was some kind of magnet, letting him go and then sucking him back. He shot the second horse, just as he had shot the first one, hid his saddle and went back. He walked grimly, trying to keep his mind off the fact that Ellie was getting farther and farther away all the time.

He swam the Arkansas River when he came to it, walked into town in wet clothes, bought another horse, and left again within the hour. The old horse trader was half drunk and eager to bargain, but July cut him short.

"You ain't getting anywhere very fast, are you, young feller?" the old man said, chuckling. July thought it an unnecessary remark. He went right back across the river.

All during the trip he had been haunted by the memory of something that had happened in Fort Smith several years before. One of the nicest men in town, a cotton merchant, had gone to Memphis on a business trip, only to have his wife take sick while he was gone. They tried to send a telegram to notify the man, but he was on his way back and the telegram never got delivered. The man's name was John Fisher. As he rode back into Fort Smith, John Fisher saw a burying party out behind the church. Being a neighborly man, he had ridden over to see who had died, and the people had all stopped, stricken, for they were burying his wife. July had been helping to cover the coffin. He never forgot the look on John Fisher's face when he realized he was a day late-his wife had died the afternoon before his return. Though a healthy man, John Fisher only lived another year himself. If he ran into someone on the street who had seen his wife on her sickbed he always asked, "Do you think Jane might have lived if I'd got back sooner?" Everyone told him no, you couldn't have done a thing, but John Fisher didn't believe them.

July had no reason to think that Elmira was sick, but he had so much worry that he hated every delay. Fortunately the new horse was strong, a good traveler. July pushed him hard, taking his own rest when he felt the horse needed it. He watched the horse closely, knowing that he couldn't afford to lose him. He only had two dollars left, plus some coffee, bacon and his rifle. He hoped to kill an antelope, but could not hit one. Mostly he lived on bacon.

Near the Republican River he had his second piece of bad luck. He had camped on a little bluff, exhausted, and after hobbling the horse, fell asleep like a stone. He didn't sleep well. In the night he felt a Stinging in his leg but was too heavy with sleep to care-red ants had gotten him several times.

When he awoke it was to severe pain and a right leg so swollen that he had to cut his pants open to see what was wrong. When he did, he saw fang marks, just above his knee. A snake must have crawled near him in the night, and in his thrashing he had turned over and scared it. He had heard no rattle, but it might have been a young snake, or had its rattle broken off.

At first he was very scared. He had been bitten in the night-the poison had had several hours in which to work. It was already too late to cut the bite and try to drain the poison. He had no medicines and could do nothing for himself. He grew lightheaded and assumed he was dying. From the bluff he could see far north across the Republican, almost to Nebraska, he supposed. It was terribly bad luck, to be snakebit almost in sight of where he needed to be. He didn't even have much water, for with the river so close he had let himself run low.