I decided on the second, smaller bedroom—the one I am sure I had occupied until I was about six—and slept on an aging trundle bed that my father had built. Trundle beds had a smaller rollaway bed that was pushed under the main bed in daytime. Both the big and small beds had cords to form a base for the mattress. The mattress covers on both beds were filled with corn husks and straw that was spread over the rope netting.
Ben took the other bedroom, and Bill opted for the barn. "I'll make me a hay bed. I don't relish leavin' our mounts alone."
That night was a fitful one for me. I barely slept, and when I did, I dreamt of the dead Mrs. Bledsoe lying lifeless and gray on the kitchen table.
Early the next morning, Bill left for Dodge City, and Ben and I settled in. I spent much of the day w
