Real Deal locks himself in his cabin. The ten years he was with Yuma were the best of his life. He told her that he turned because he knew it’d take a long time to find the perfect woman, and when he did, he wanted to be with her forever. “And it was you I was waiting for,” he said. He hasn’t cried in a hundred years, not since his brother was killed, but now thinks he might never stop.

Seated at the picnic table, Antonia checks herself for damage. The gash on her head where it hit the table is gone, and there’s no pain when she wiggles her nose.

“You didn’t try very hard to sway them,” Elijah says.

“They’re spoiling for a fight,” Antonia replies.

“And we’re fighting with them?”

“We’ve been riding together a long time. We’ve got to see this through.”

Elijah picks at a splinter on the table. “We’ll send Bull for more ammo,” he says. “And a shotgun. You can use that other pistol of mine.”

“Are you mad?”

“If it was up to just me, I’d leave. We’re sitting ducks, and I don’t like putting you in danger.”

“Isn’t that sweet,” Antonia scoffs.

“It’s selfish,” Elijah says. “I’d be worse than dusted if something happened to you.”

Antonia presses her forehead to his and looks into his eyes.

“Everything comes to an end, old man.”

“Not me, not you,” Elijah says. “Not before we go to Italy. Not before you see the—what the hell was it?—Birth of Venus?”

They watch the road until the last star winks out. Two cars and a power-company truck pass by. Safe in their cabin as the sun rises, they drop off immediately but are wakened later by sobs—Real Deal’s, rising and falling like some strange bird’s sorrowful song, a terrible thing to hear.

25

25

JESSE STOPS DIGGING AND SITS. JOHONA’S GRAVE IS ONLY TWO feet deep, but all the strength drains out of his arms, and he can’t keep hold of the shovel. Edgar takes his place in the hole, though, and he and the black man who showed up at Beaumont’s, Charles Sanders, keep working, so the dirt keeps piling up. Sanders didn’t kick when Jesse made him pull over to bury Johona. “I’m a Christian,” he said, “I understand,” and even picked up a shovel and pitched in.

Johona’s body lies next to Jesse, blood seeping through the blanket he wrapped her in. He touches the bundle, finds her corpse has gone cold, and feels sick to his stomach thinking how twelve hours ago she was resting in his arms. She was like some small, soft thing that got torn apart between two dogs. He should’ve taken better care of her.

“My brother’s the best gravedigger there is,” Edgar tells Sanders. “And I’m second.”