The Washhouse Reckoning

Rusk’s horse stood tied outside the Tallow Creek washhouse, blowing foam onto the hitch rail. The Man had seen that horse at camp; it had carried its rider west at a gallop. Now it shifted and stamped while voices rose behind the washhouse door.

Hobb swung down first. His face had gone flat and pale beneath the road dust. The Man followed more slowly, keeping his right hand close to his coat. It throbbed with each jolt from the saddle, and the bandage had worked loose at the wrist.

Mrs. Noll stood in the doorway with a wooden laundry paddle in both hands. Behind her, Pell sat tied to his chair, eyes fixed on Rusk. Rusk held a pistol pointed at the floor between them.

“Move away from the door,” Rusk said.

Mrs. Noll’s grip tightened on the paddle. “You can try to move me.”

“I came for my man.”

“You came into my washhouse with a gun. That makes you my trouble.”

Kit watched from the station porch, jaw set. The Man saw her hands curled around the porch post. He kept his eyes on Rusk’s pistol.

“Put it down,” he called.

Rusk turned. His coat was dusty, his hat gone, and his mouth had dried to a narrow line. “You rode all that way to give me orders?”

“I rode back to the station.” The Man stopped beyond the washhouse step. His right hand would not close properly. “Put the gun down.”

Rusk’s eyes flicked to the bandage. “You’ve had a rough ride.”

“Long enough to know you’re outnumbered.”

Rusk glanced at the porch, then at Hobb. He counted the people in front of him and found no reason to feel better.

Hobb stood beside the Man, arms hanging loose. He had brought his rifle, though he hadn’t raised it. “Let Pell go.”

Pell tried to straighten in the chair. The rope cut into his sleeves. “I’ve got nowhere to go, Hobb.”

“You can stand up first.”

Rusk lifted the pistol toward Hobb’s chest. Mrs. Noll raised her paddle. Kit stepped off the porch.

“Stay there,” the Man said to her.

Kit stopped. She looked at Rusk, then at the horse. The Man hoped she understood what he’d seen: the pistol, the short distance, the hand that might twitch. She stayed put.

Rusk backed toward Pell. “He’s coming with me. He can tell the camp what he saw, and you can all stop pretending this is a town court.”

“Pell already told us,” the Man said. “He signed it.”