“Bob didn’t find the men who attacked them,” he says to her.

“Did you think he would?” she replies. “They probably left town right afterward.”

“We have to search at least one night if we expect to keep him and the rest in line.”

“They do love to go on and on about loyalty, don’t they?” Antonia says. “One for all and all for one and how willing they are to die for the gang.”

Elijah sits on the bed beside her. “You used to feel that way, too, when we started this thing,” he says.

“And now most days I wouldn’t be comfortable turning my back on a one of them.”

“There’s another reason we need to find the killers. If word spreads that we let someone get away with dusting one of ours, it’ll make us look weak—weak enough that someone else will take a crack at us. We need to keep people scared. That’s what keeps us strong.”

“Nobody’d be scared of us if they knew how close the legendary Fiends were to coming apart these days, how little it takes to set us at each other’s throats.”

“Even so, now’s not the time to walk away,” Elijah says. “The least we owe them is to see this situation through. We’ve ridden together for a good while.”

Antonia scoffs and shakes her head. “You know what your problem is?” she says. “You’re tenderhearted.”

Elijah tears the book out of her hands and climbs on top of her. He pins her wrists to the mattress and kisses her hard on the mouth. “Who are you calling tenderhearted?” he says.

17

17

J​ESSE STOPS FOR GAS IN FLAGSTAFF. HE’D LIKE TO PUSH ON and put more miles between him, Edgar, and Johona and the Fiends, but it’s already 3 a.m. They could make Tuba City before sunrise but would be in trouble if no rooms were available. Better to play it safe and hole up here for the day.

“Do you know of a decent motel?” he asks the kid scrubbing bugs off the windshield of the Grand Prix.

“The Spur’s down the road,” the kid says around a wad of tobacco. “It’s cheap and pretty clean.”

Edgar and Johona return from the station’s bathrooms. Edgar asks for change for the candy machine. Jesse tells him to get in the car. Johona yawns and stretches. She’s calmed down over the past few hours, had time to think things through.

Jesse asks if she’s tired.

“Bad dreams keep waking me up,” she says.

“We’ll stop here. You’ll rest better in a bed.”

They check into the motel and walk to a diner next door. It has a cowboy theme. Knotty-pine paneling, steer horns hanging behind the cash register. The breakfast special is called the Roundup. Jesse, Edgar, and Johona are the only customers.