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  “Right, right. We got to get going. Meeting the president by the fireside tonight. That radio, Lawd, what an invention that is. My mind spins with all the stuff we have now, it really does. I wish Margaret had lived to see it.

  “Margaret made the bet, so we had to come up with a plan. We didn’t have time for Jehu to scout us a target, and anyways he wasn’t interested. He made himself scarce during our planning sessions. I wasn’t sure how smart it was to have Grace Trumbull in on everything, but she argued that this last big job would be a great centerpiece for the book. I let it go. I had plans for Grace Trumbull. And I knew I could kill her anytime I wanted.

  “Garet wanted to hit the first bank she robbed, the Bank of the Rockies. Connolly’s bank. She said it would be a fitting end to go back to where she started. I thought there were easier, more remote targets to hit, but since we had to best Spooner, she convinced me we needed to hit a big target, and a Denver bank sure was that.

  “We couldn’t rely on Garet’s knowledge from ’73 since Denver had changed a lot in four years. We planned to go to Denver at the end of the summer, after rounding up a new batch of mustangs and spending a few weeks breaking them. We were a working horse ranch, after all, and we couldn’t put it all on hold to go outlawing. We had given ourselves enough time to get to Denver, watch the bank for a week or two, pull the job, and get back to the Heresy before winter set in. We targeted being in Denver by the first of August, pulling the job no later than October first and riding hell-for-leather back to the Hole.

  “Grace had been pretty silent, taking notes—which I didn’t like one bit—but when Garet said October first, she startled. She asked what street the bank was on, and when Garet told her, she smiled. She was a suffragist, you see, and had been to a meeting in Denver before leaving on her travels. Colorado was set to vote on women’s suffrage on October second, and the association that was advocating for it was going to have a rally, a march, traveling right down the street in front of the bank. You can use it as escape cover, she said. Garet was impressed, I could tell. I was suspicious and determined to get a look at that book Grace was always scribbling in.

  “Jehu and the girls were going to stay at the ranch and keep it running. Hire some cowboys to help, and that was just fine with him. If he didn’t need to be out on the trail, searching for jobs for us, then he’d just as soon be at the ranch taking care of the livestock. The ranch would be ours when Garet passed, and though he’d never said a word against Garet’s running of it, I knew he was eager to be the one in charge. I wasn’t eager to leave him, though. I didn’t like being apart from him, and this job was going to keep us separate for at least two months. It had taken me a long damn time to find a man who loved me like Jehu did, who took care of me in the little ways. Rubbing my shoulders after a long day. Waking me up every morning with a cup of coffee and a light kiss on my forehead. Try as I might, I could never get out of bed in the morning before Jehu to return the favor. I finally gave up trying. I liked the attention too much. He’d bring me little gifts from his trips, a soap with rose petals in it, a lotion he used to rub on the scars on my back. Said it was supposed to help them fade, but it never did. They’d been healed for too long, I suppose. That didn’t mean Jehu would stop rubbing it on my back, though. Course, you know what a good long back rub would lead to. To this day I can’t smell camphor without longing for Jehu’s touch. Never been a sweeter, kinder, or gentler man than Jehu Lee.

  “I’ve gotten off track. That’ll happen when I start thinking about Jehu. There’ll be days when I’ll sit here on the porch and think about him, and Garet and the girls, the times we had, for hours. Five years is all it was, but we lived a lot in those five years, and we were happy.”

  We take a break here. I help Mrs. Lee into the house and to the bathroom. She uses a cane, but isn’t slump-shouldered like so many elderly women. She has a regal bearing, and I’m struck by the brightness in her copper-colored eyes. She pats my arm before going into the bathroom and says, “I like our chats.” I tell her I enjoy them, too. I get us some iced tea and we settle back onto the front porch.

  “I went with Jehu and Stella and some cowboys to round up mustangs, which gave Jehu and me time to talk without Garet around. I told him I suspected Grace was a Pinkerton, and he said I was probably right. That was all I needed to hear. Jehu wasn’t suspicious by nature, and if he had reservations about Grace, then that was as good a confirmation as any that she was against us. We went to Garet with it when we got back, and goddamn if she didn’t smile and say, ‘She may be, but I want to give her a chance to do the right thing.’

  “Garet had somehow lost sight of how the right thing to most people would be turning in a gang of outlaws. But she was stubborn about Grace, said that she was damaged, like we all were, and that made the difference. ‘She’s looking for acceptance,’ Garet said. ‘We give her that, and she won’t turn on us.’

  “Jehu and I both thought it was a damn fool idea to be trusting our lives on a white woman’s better nature, but Garet said giving her a chance wasn’t the same as trusting her, and my job while in Denver was to shadow Grace, find out if she was a Pinkerton. We could feed her false information about our plans, because wouldn’t it be better to have the Pinkertons looking one way while we were pulling our job the other?

  “Damn that Garet, she was a clever woman. I was angry I didn’t see her play from the beginning. While we’d been gone rounding up mustangs, she’d been softening up Grace, getting to know her, getting Grace to trust her. Grace had a crush on Garet, and Garet was fostering it, and she told me it was time to put my animosity on the shelf and to gain her trust. I told her she did trust me, as long as Garet wasn’t around, but that Grace was always going to go to Garet before a colored woman.

  “Grace suggested she go to Rock Springs and catch the train to Denver alone, that the three of us traveling together might stand out. We agreed, and Jehu took her in the wagon so he could do another supply run. As I said, the wagon took a while and Jehu might have driven slower than usual, so Garet and I easily outpaced them to Rock Springs by following animal trails instead of the road. I went on to Denver, to pick up Grace when she got off the train. Garet detoured to Cheyenne, took this boy Newt who’d been beaten half to death by his pa, to the doctor, then left him with some friends of ours. She needed to pick up some hemp. Reefer, I think they call it these days. She liked smoking hemp to keep the pain at bay more than laudanum. That opium-laced shit will kill you.

  “I knew Grace never suspected I was shadowing her, because if she had, she would have never led me straight to her meeting with Dorcas Connolly. Garet took the news better than I expected. She apologized for doubting me, for not trusting my instincts, but said we’d know if Grace had betrayed us to Dorcas as soon as she walked into Connolly’s office. If she did, I should kill Grace and skedaddle.

  “We didn’t have to worry about that, though. She went into the lion’s den and came out with an invitation to stay the weekend at her old ranch. It wasn’t the plan, it was better. It would give her the chance to snoop in Connolly’s office, see which businesses we should hit. The Bank of Denver was a decoy for Grace. The real plan was bigger. Bolder. And a great way to go out.”

  14

  Margaret Parker’s Journal

  Letter to Grace Trumbull

  Written between August 6–10, 1877

  Dear Grace,

  You don’t know what I have in mind for you yet, the role you will play in my legacy. You may turn down my offer. You may be a Pinkerton plant and readying a trap to catch me. Regardless, this journal will be read by someone, and they will most assuredly want to know how I, Margaret Elizabeth Standridge Parker, came to be a Colorado outlaw in 1877.

  I was born in Somerset, England, in 1843 to the third son of an earl who reluctantly went into the Church, but never took to the job, or the teachings. He was a libertine and a gambler and by the time I was five he’d lost his curacy and was disowned by his family. He died not long af
ter and is buried in an out-of-the-way portion of the family plot, with only a small, flat stone marking his existence. Thankfully, the Earl of Standridge was a fair man and allowed me and my mother to stay under his guardianship, and let us live in a little gamekeeper’s cabin on his estate. My mother’s family lived in genteel poverty in Derbyshire; my grandmother married my mother off to the Standridges because they couldn’t afford to take care of the six daughters they had. Returning to them was never considered.

  My mother tutored me in all the ladylike accomplishments that would be required for me to make a good match, freeing both of us from the earl’s charity. I excelled in my studies, but what I loved more than anything was being outdoors, especially riding and spending time at the stables. I learned everything I know about horses—evaluating, training, riding—by shadowing my grandfather and his head trainer, Ransom. The earl was a famous horseman and breeder and had seven grand champions in his lifetime. The earl and Ransom doted on me, enchanted with my enthusiasm, my intelligence, and my ability to listen and learn, and to stay out of the way when I needed to. My first lesson in relationships with men had nothing with to do with my mother’s daily tutoring in accepted female accomplishments. Make men feel important and smart, take an interest in what they love, and their loyalty knows no bounds. My grandfather bought me a pony when I was seven, Tulip, a lovely little sorrel, and as I grew and became more skilled, my horses became feistier until I was riding a beautiful blood bay hunter as large as my grandfather’s. When I came out, I was known far and wide to have almost as good an eye for horseflesh as my grandfather, and a better seat than any other debutante in England.

  That made me attractive to a certain kind of man, namely Captain Thomas Parker, Crimean War hero, veteran of the Charge of the Light Brigade, and second son to the Duke of Parkerton. Thomas lost his left arm in the battle, but he was charming and handsome and almost as knowledgeable about horses as I (though of course I let him think his expertise exceeded mine). We fell in love almost instantly. The earl approved; the Parkers were an old family who were more respectable than wealthy, and my grandfather gave me a generous dowry. If he had known it would eventually lead to me living thousands of miles away and that I would never see him again after I embarked on my honeymoon journey, I’m not sure he would have been so generous.

  Since the colonies were embroiled in a civil war, Thomas and I made our way to the American West via Canada for our honeymoon. Thomas was eager to try his hand at mining, to refill his family’s coffers with the spoils of the American Rockies and to prove that he was a whole man, that his missing arm didn’t matter. Of course, many more people went bust than hit the motherlode (the newspapers and land promoters always elided over that fact), but it was hard not to dream when you saw the West. Thomas dreamed of riches; I dreamed of horses. When I saw my first herd of mustangs, all that horseflesh free for the taking, my entire body thrummed with energy as a vision of our future, in Colorado Territory, bloomed in my mind. With our knowledge of horses and the growth of the West that I saw with the construction of the Transcontinental Railroad, we could fill the Parker family coffers with money from ranching. Thomas had to be led away from mining and toward ranching in such a way that he believed the idea had originated within himself, but I was persuasive, and subtle. Soon Thomas was as enthusiastic about mustangs as he had been about gold.

  With my dowry, we staked a claim on five hundred acres by the Cache la Poudre River and built the required cabin, or had it built, I should say, along with stables and a corral. Thomas hired some men, and they went off in the mountains to round up our first herd of mustangs, and I went about trying to learn how to cook and clean and run a house without servants. Colonel Connolly and his sister, Dorcas, were our nearest neighbors and welcomed us to the area with open arms. Dorcas lent me her cook so I could learn the kitchen basics I would need, and the colonel and Thomas spent many nights in the colonel’s library, talking about their army exploits.

  The first few years were exhausting, not only because of the backbreaking work of running a household in a remote area, but also because it became apparent pretty early on that Thomas was ill prepared to run a working horse ranch. He had no eye for business, and, though he knew a lot about horses, he wasn’t as skilled at breaking and training them as he believed. Two very fortunate events happened within a few months of each other, saving us from total ruin: Jehu and Jed Spooner.

  It was a Saturday, and Thomas and I were in Fort Collins procuring supplies for the next week. Thomas had gone off to the blacksmith to discuss a wagon repair, and I was shopping at the general store for flour, salt, ribbon, and fabric. A loaded wagon came down the street, and the driver tipped his hat at me. I smiled and dipped my chin in acknowledgment. I didn’t know the man’s name, but it seemed that I saw him in town every Saturday, without fail. I call him a man, but he was so slight he looked like little more than a boy.

  I took my time shopping, knowing full well that Thomas’s business would be concluded quickly and he would head to the back room of the hotel and play faro for a few hours. I purchased a sandwich and a bottle of ginger beer and took myself to the river for a picnic and a few hours of glorious solitude. I’d finished my repast and was having a lie-down in the cool grass to let the sun warm my face and listen to the gentle sound of the flowing river when a shadow was cast over my eyes. I had a moment of pure terror; I was alone and quite away from the town. A man could have easily overpowered me in my vulnerable state. I sat up quickly and moved away before my eyes had the opportunity to focus on who stood near me. When they did, I saw the young teamster holding his hat close to his chest, an expression of mortification on his face.

  —I’m sorry, ma’am. I didn’t mean to startle you.

  My answer was curt and more than a little rude. I can still feel the heavy beating of my heart. The man apologized again and turned to go. I stopped him and asked him his name.

  —Jehu.

  —Like in the Bible?

  —Yes, ma’am. I’m a fair hand at teamstering, especially for one my age.

  Jehu’s face was soft, but nothing else about him was. He was wiry, a little taller than me, perhaps. He looked as if a stiff wind would blow him over, but his strong hands and corded forearms gave the impression of greater strength than evident at first glance.

  —You’re a teamster?

  —Yes, ma’am.

  —I see you every weekend.

  —Yes, ma’am. I drive the Denver Road every week from Cheyenne to Denver. When you see me on a Saturday, I’m on my return trip to Cheyenne.

  —By yourself?

  —No, ma’am. I have a guard that rides with me.

  —Stop calling me ma’am.

  —I would, but I don’t know your name, ma’am.

  —Right. Margaret Parker.

  —Mrs. Parker.

  —Call me Garet.

  —Yes, ma’am.

  During this exchange, Jehu’s eyes never met mine, and he fiddled his hat around and around in a circle.

  —Was there something I could help you with, Jehu?

  —Yes, ma’am. Garet. I wondered if there might be a job for me out at your ranch?

  —Tired of teamstering?

  —Yes, ma’am.

  —What do you know about horses?

  —I know the best way to get them to do what you want is to be gentle with them.

  I raised my eyebrows at this, since most of the men Thomas had hired to break our mustangs thought force and abuse the best way to train a horse. I disagreed, of course.

  —You can drive a horse, but can you ride?

  —Yes, ma’am.

  —Do you know what we do at the ranch?

  —You round up wild mustangs and break them for sale to the army or mines or whoever needs them.

  —How do you know that?

  —Everyone knows about the Englishman’s ranch.

  —Do you also know that we are probably going to go bankrupt if we don’t do a better job of bre
aking our stock?

  —Heard rumors. I can help. I want to help.

  —Why?

  Jehu gathered the courage to meet my eyes for a brief moment, and his face reddened quicker than I’d ever seen another person blush.

  —Ever broken a mustang, Jehu?

  —No, ma’am. But I’ve ridden plenty of green horses in my time.

  —How old are you, Jehu?

  —About twenty, I expect.

  —Family?

  —Been an orphan since before the war.

  —I’ll pay you a dollar for every horse you break to start. Plus room and board. Does that sound fair?

  Jehu agreed, met my eyes, and smiled. He had a set of surprisingly straight teeth, more than I can say for myself.

  After Thomas’s initial shock at the skinny man sitting next to me in the wagon, and my declaration that Jehu was our new cowboy, Thomas quickly warmed up to him. It was difficult not to. Jehu was quiet, respectful, attentive, intelligent, and a quick learner. I saw a lot of myself in Jehu’s ability to endear himself to Thomas, and me. Soon he became like family, though he steadfastly refused the idea Thomas had of building a room onto the cabin for him. Instead Jehu slept in the barn loft, said he liked the comforting smell of horses and hay. I didn’t understand until later what the true reason for his shyness was. I assumed it was because he wanted to keep his distance from me, a married woman he was sweet on. You could say it was my vanity talking, but I wasn’t entirely wrong, merely right for the wrong reason.

  I helped break horses under the guise of teaching Jehu, and by the time Jed Spooner and his gang rode up to our ranch looking for fresh mounts to trade, we had plenty on offer. We didn’t look too close at the money, or ask aloud where a gang of six rough-looking characters might have gotten the cash to buy six horses in addition to the six they traded for. It was the first major sale we made, kept us from going bankrupt, and we were thrilled to get six seasoned horses in the bargain. It wasn’t until Jed and his boys rode away that Jehu told us who they were, and that we might have gotten ourselves into a relationship it would be tough to get out of.