The Jump-Off Creek by Molly Gloss

with yours there? He lose his eye for it when he cut off his braids?”
    Blue had a pretty high boiling point. He made a short sound like a laugh, without saying anything. But there was a stiffness in the air. Even the dogs were standing up, with the hair lifted along their shoulders. Osgood kept looking at Tim in a sullen, wild way.
    Danny said slowly, “Why don’t you all come on in and set.” He touched the edge of the doorhide. “We got a pot heating up.”
    Blue began to smile. “I’ll bet you do,” he said, low, and Turnbow made a smile of his own, sliding his eyes sideways to Osgood.
    â€œYeah, well.” He scratched the back of his neck with raggy black fingernails. “The truth is, the coffee’s pretty damn bitter. We been using them grounds since last week,” He eyed them again, from under his brows. “Times are hard. You know what I mean?”
    There was a waiting silence. Tim couldn’t tell what Blue might be wanting to do by now. “I thought there were three or four of you living here, last time we came by,” he said.
    Turnbow swung his hand vaguely, looking past Tim. “There’s three of us, that’s right. Jack’s in bed. Got ahold of a little strychnine maybe, off his hands. He’s sick as death. Been in bed four days now.”
    In a while Blue said, “Maybe it was the coffee made him sick.”
    Turnbow smiled slightly. “Might be it was.”
    Tim shifted his seat carefully, looking sidelong at Blue. Blue shrugged up both his shoulders, maybe not just easing the ache of his collarbone.
    â€œI guess not,” Blue said. Maybe he was answering Turnbow’s offer to come in and have a cup.
    Tim said, in a moment, “You keep an eye out for a guy in a curly coat, riding a buckskin horse.” He wanted to say something more, something about hanging him, but it sounded stupid or cocky, any way he could think of saying it.
    He thought the kid might make some kind of a sour answer, but he didn’t, he just stood next to Danny, looking down at the toes of his boots. You would think you could kick him around like a stone, he had that aspect now. But he had stood before, all dare and hot piss, giving them a straight look.
    â€œSure,” Danny said, nodding, solemn. “We’ll watch.”
    In the silence afterward, Tim heard Blue shifting his weight on the saddle and then turning the roan. Tim didn’t want to turn his back on Osgood, or on the other, the Montana man, inside the shack, but he did, finally, giving Danny a look as he swung around. He jigged the mare when he saw Blue was doing the same, and they went pretty fast across the bench with the dogs running to keep up. When they got to the tree line they slowed down, and after a while let the horses walk. Blue took the made cigarette out of his inside pocket and smoked it.
    Tim remembered suddenly a sorrel horse Blue had owned once, that would buck like the devil every time he lit up a cigarette. It had been a good horse otherwise, but Blue never had been able to break him of that little peculiarity, and he’d wound up trading him for a big, strong-looking bay that proved later to have tender feet. Tim didn’t know why he thought of that now.
    â€œI guess there wasn’t any point in pushing it,” Blue said, not looking at him.
    Tim pulled his shoulders up. Finally he said, “I guess we can wait and see what they do.” He could hear his heart beating inside his ears.

9
    Where the chinking had fallen out, the gaps between the logs began finally to show grayness. Lydia stood stiffly and went out in the muddy clothes she’d not taken off the day before. There was no rain, just the damp chill raising the flesh of her arms, and the clouds caught in the tops of the trees along the edges of the clearing.
    The back of the house stood up close against the high slope of a ridge. There were trees still standing there, where