Emma sent Jane a telegram to let her know she would not be home for at least a few weeks. She hoped that it would reach her soon, and that she would not be spending nights awake, waiting for her to arrive in the middle of the night.

To her surprise, there was no urgency for she and Rose to leave. The town of Breckenridge had seemed content not to find them, or to pursue justice. For whatever reason, they had been left in relative peace, though Emma was confident she would never be able to step foot in the town again.

Fine by me, she thought.

Together, she and Rose had wrapped Luis in a large swath of blankets. She had given Rose her horse to ride, with her father strapped to its back, and she walked alongside. Together, they took a long trip to the Red River.

“My Dad bought the house in hopes that it would be passed down for generations,” Rose informed her as they made their way toward her old home. “He hoped that our farm would be known by name, that people would come far and wide to buy our crops. He hoped that the world would stop judging him by his skin and start judging him based on his hard work.”

“I wish he could have gotten that,” Emma said.

“I asked him once how he always stayed so calm in the face of everything we experienced. After the cabin, after the wendigo, he was still treated like a second-class citizen by white men. They never even tried to carry a conversation with him. You know what he said? He said, ‘Rose, I’m not calm. I’m not happy. When a white man starts yelling in my face, I tense up because I don’t know if my last conversation with you will be the one I had that morning. I just learned, from my mother, that to keep yourself safe you need to pretend like you’re calm. You can’t make any sudden movements, or raise your voice, or get angry. ‘Cause if you get angry, white folk get angry. And when white folk get angry, they kill us.’”

They walked in silence after that. Emma had no idea what to say. She wasn’t even sure whether it was appropriate for her to say anything.

When they crossed the bridge, Emma stole a glance at the Red River. Its crimson waters had dulled over the years. The reds were not as bright as she remembered, and the waters did not seem as violent. Yet, she could still see the darker undertones rolling in the current as the water folded over itself. Further down, to her left, Emma could see whitecaps forming as the current picked up its pace.

They reached the house a few minutes later. It was still in good condition, though the lack of care over the past decade was evident. The land was still in Luis’s name, according to Rose, and as such nobody had tended to it. The grass had overgrown, and the house sagged. The paint was worn and faded with a decade’s worth of neglect.

Rose directed the horse to the front door, and then dismounted. “Can you help me get him inside?” she asked.

Emma nodded and helped her friend lift Luis off the horse. Together, they carried him into the house, through the central room, down a long hallway, and into a large bedroom. They set him down on the bed. The sheets and walls were covered in mildew, and the wind blew in through the broken window.

“He always said he wanted to die on this land,” Rose said. “After my Mom passed, he was determined to make the farm out back work. He could just never get a plant to take.”

They walked back down the hallway. The wood floors creaked and groaned as they approached the back door. When Rose opened it, she gasped.

“What is it?” Emma asked.

Rose gestured for Emma to look. When she reached the threshold, she felt awe and joy lift her heavy heart.

The land that had previously been barren and bare was lush, full of life and plants. Green grass, large weeds, plants with blue, red, orange, and violet petals. By the river bed, long reed grass had grown, and was billowing in the wind.

The women stepped out onto the overgrown landscape. Both looked to their right as cautious hope swirling in their gut. They both smiled as they saw the fig tree, its white branches reaching up toward the sky upon which they could see large, juicy plumbs hanging, swaying in the sweet wind.

“I think he’ll be happiest here,” Rose said. Her voice was tender and low.

Together, they carried Luis’s body from the bedroom to the farm that was now full of life. Rose scoured the house and found two rusty shovels. Together, they buried him. Above them, birds chirped and the golden sun shone in powder-blue skies.

*

Two weeks later, Emma returned to her home. The northeast weather had been kind to her; it had been neither too hot nor too cold during her journey. Rabbits bounced around in the tall grass beside the path she rode down. She noticed that they were being chased away by clever snakes. Emma knew all too well that sometimes the snakes caught the rabbits. The serpent that had slithered across the path in front of her, chasing the bouncing, white tail of a young cottontail, had not been successful in its attempts, though.

Jane greeted her at the door after she had brought her horse into their small barn. Emma gave her a kiss and held her in a tight embrace.

“I missed you,” Jane said.

“You have no idea,” Emma responded. She gave her another quick peck on the lips.

“Did everything go okay on your trip?”

Emma looked at the woman she loved, the woman she wanted to spend the rest of her life with.

“Yes,” she lied.

I’m sorry, my love, she thought. That stays between Rose and me.

After having a quick breakfast and a cup of coffee, Rose walked out her back door to her farm. Jane had tended it well. All her crops were perfectly weeded and meticulously pruned. Birds were nesting in the trees, and she could feel life surrounding her with a steady pulse.

She continued forward toward the river, enjoying the solitude and length of her walk. Her heart still panged with sadness that Rose had not joined her, that she had turned down her offer to move into the guest bedroom. But she understood why her friend had turned down her offer.

I want to be here, she had said, looking back up toward the worn house behind the Red River.

The river was particularly peaceful that morning. Its blue waters flowed calmly. The sound of trickling water was like music to her ears. Emma sat down on the bank of the river and looked down into the clear waters. Below the surface, small fish were swimming in large schools. They swam together, making their way forward as best they could. Sometimes, a smaller fish would fall out of the group. To her surprise, a few other fish broke off from the school and helped guide the errant swimmer back to his friends. She liked to think they were all friends, at least.

The sun rose in the sky as she sat in thought, but the shade of the trees overhead helped keep her cool. She stayed by the blue waters for a long time. Thinking. Wondering. Hoping. Crying.

When the air grew chilly, she stood and wiped the dirt from the seat of her pants. With a haphazard glance, she looked across the river. What she saw stopped her heart.

Across the water, standing alone by a lush plot of grass, was a stag. Its eyes watched her, though not with fear or with menace. It just stood, chewing what was presumably its lunch, and stared at her from afar. Its antlers reached up toward the blue sky with majestic power.

Another noise surprised her: a high-pitched giggle. Emma averted her gaze from the stag. To its right, she saw the back of a house. A brick chimney rose above the tree line, and puffs of gray smoke tumbled from it. A young girl was running down toward the river with a boy. Behind them was an older woman, her hands on her hips. Her dress was billowing in the wind.

“¡Ten cuidado, y no te metas en problemas!” she yelled. The young kids sent back chants of sí as they rushed toward the edge of the water.

The stag was gone when Emma turned back toward the plot of grass, presumably having ventured back into the wilderness.

Safe travels, Dad, Emma thought.

She caught the woman’s eyes and saw her face grow guarded and concerned. Emma raised a hand into the air, smiling brightly, and waved at her.

The woman waved back.