[ This time he does insist that he can take care of the bodies himself. Emma doesn’t need to be riding out to God knows where to dump a couple of men into shallow graves, but her infamous stubbornness rears its head and Vasquez finds he doesn’t have it in him to fight her.
They get the bodies outside, leaving them to bleed out in a patch of dirt rather than on the floor. From there, they both roll up their shirtsleeves and clean up the blood and bits of viscera that have been scattered around Emma’s floor. It’s a first for Vasquez, cleaning blood off of a floor. Usually he only has to worry about his own clothes, sometimes his face and hands if it got especially messy. He didn’t stick around for the aftermath of the battle of Rose Creek, but he imagines Emma must be an hold hat at this sort of thing now.
What a sad thought that is.
The sun has long set by the time they get all of the red out of the floorboards, and the two of them have gone without dinner. They fill themselves with a simple, quick meal of bread and beans, and in the dead of night they throw a pair of corpses over the saddles of their horses and ride off. Better to get them taken care of now than leave them for someone to chance a glance at in the morning.
By the time they make it back to the house after depositing the two men in a shallow ditch somewhere, the sky is begging to grow light again, and exhaustion hangs heavy between them. It’s an effort to drag his bedroll out of the place he and Emma had stashed it before collapsing.
Vasquez makes a promise to Emma to fix the bedroom door in the morning, but morning comes and goes while the outlaw snores quietly in his place in the main room of the house. It’s past noon when he finally rises. In his groggy haze, he almost wonders if the events of the previous night had been imagined, but the sight of the damaged bedroom door is enough to bring reality crashing down again.
This can’t happen again. He needs to talk to Emma.
So he rises, pulls on his boots, and goes to see if she’s around. ]
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They get the bodies outside, leaving them to bleed out in a patch of dirt rather than on the floor. From there, they both roll up their shirtsleeves and clean up the blood and bits of viscera that have been scattered around Emma’s floor. It’s a first for Vasquez, cleaning blood off of a floor. Usually he only has to worry about his own clothes, sometimes his face and hands if it got especially messy. He didn’t stick around for the aftermath of the battle of Rose Creek, but he imagines Emma must be an hold hat at this sort of thing now.
What a sad thought that is.
The sun has long set by the time they get all of the red out of the floorboards, and the two of them have gone without dinner. They fill themselves with a simple, quick meal of bread and beans, and in the dead of night they throw a pair of corpses over the saddles of their horses and ride off. Better to get them taken care of now than leave them for someone to chance a glance at in the morning.
By the time they make it back to the house after depositing the two men in a shallow ditch somewhere, the sky is begging to grow light again, and exhaustion hangs heavy between them. It’s an effort to drag his bedroll out of the place he and Emma had stashed it before collapsing.
Vasquez makes a promise to Emma to fix the bedroom door in the morning, but morning comes and goes while the outlaw snores quietly in his place in the main room of the house. It’s past noon when he finally rises. In his groggy haze, he almost wonders if the events of the previous night had been imagined, but the sight of the damaged bedroom door is enough to bring reality crashing down again.
This can’t happen again. He needs to talk to Emma.
So he rises, pulls on his boots, and goes to see if she’s around. ]