The Mars Cowboy

Part 6: The Cassandrah Suite

I. Emily

A stark black four-horse carriage fled across the desert.

No one was driving, but it was pulled at a manic pace by four spooked, wild eyed horses. The horses were attempting to scatter, but their bindings held, and so the carriage careened from side to side and shuttered at ever bump off. They kicked up a prodigious amount of red desert sand. As they ran, it became clear that the front right horse, a paint horse, was overpowering the other three, and the carriage began to drift right.

The Cowboy watched all this with interest. He stood on one of the surrounding red foothills. He wore a duster and both his six shooters. His lever action was slung by one strap over his back and a traveling bag hung at his side. He had been promised 600 Manatian Credits in cash to provide protection for someone. He was supposed to meet them a day’s journey north. It was midday and he didn’t want to have to journey that night. He looked behind himself at the Mount Ascraeus, the first mountain in the range he was about to enter. It was 18 kilometers tall, about 3 kilometers wide and, like everything else, red. He turned back to the horses and slung his lever-action down to his shoulder.

His first shot pierced the heart of the black horse in the front left. Its knees buckled and it became a half-ton anchor. The horse behind it, white and covered in red dust and blood, put its hoof into the horse-anchor. Its knee bent the wrong way, cracked and broke. The horse cried in pain for an instant before the second bullet caught it in the eye. It collapsed. The two remaining horses were instantly and violently effected by the death of the first two. Where they had been flying across the desert they were now subjects of an intense and trying slog. Where they had been running, they were now straining against the ropes. Where they had been spooked they were now downright panicked. They raked the carriage and their dead companions through the sand. The front-right horse started kicking and hit the back horse in the jaw, knocking it loose. The third bullet hit the back-right horse .It collapsed onto the two dead horses. The last horse strained for a bit. Then, exhausted and resigned, stood still.

The Cowboy took some shells out of his belt and reloaded the lever-action. He took one last look at the mountain before walking towards the carriage.

The breeze picked up when he reached the bottom. He pulled up his bandana. He reached the carriage, circling wide, so he could approach the living paint horse from the front. He walked to her slowly—she was skiddish. He approached with his hands outstretched. She tossed her head at him when he got within a yard and he took a few steps back then approached again. He did this again and again until the panic left her eyes.

The first time she let him touch her muzzle she shook him off immediately. He backed off and repeated the cycle three more times before she accepted his hands. She snorted at him.

“Shh shh shh,” he whispered. “I know, I know.” He walked around, leaving his hand on her flank so she’d know where he was. He took a knife from one of his belts and cut her loose. He took a step back and walked to her front.

“You can leave now if you want.” She took a step forward and nuzzled his shoulder. “Thanks,” he said. “You have a name? How does Emily sound?” The horse caught some dust in her mouth and sneezed. “Sounds about fine, then.”

He took the bindings around her head and fashioned two of the ropes into makeshift reigns. There came a faint moaning coming from the carriage. He looked over at Emily and walked around to the door at the back.

There was wooden bar holding the door closed, and when the Cowboy applied force it stuck in its place. Something on the inside was jamming the bar against its metal constraint. He bent his knees, placing his torso against the door, and used his whole body to push up.