My foots feel tight on my feet, they thrum with the pain of 54 miles on the road. Crazy bandits shot the damn horse, so I'm stuck with walking. Poor horse. If I didn't steal it back in Barnwell would it still be alive right now? Most likely. Damn. Sorry Emilia, almost forgot horses were your favorite animal. Now that's-
"Hey! Hey fella!" A young voice snaps me out of my thoughts. I stop hobbling forward and looks back. A stagecoach is coming along and has stopped behind me. The driver was a young man in overalls and work shirt. His hat has a wide brim and flat top. The horses he's got pulling the coach is a Belgian and a beautiful Shire breed horses. The man sits up and looks at me, seeming honestly concerned. "Fella you doin' alright? Issa mighty hot day to be out here and walking. You got a horse?"
"If I did I'd be ridin it," me thinks he might be dumb. "Horse was shot down the road this morning. You wouldn't happen to be one of the boys that shot my horse, would ya?" I ask, narrowing my eyes and furrowing my brow.
"Heavens no! I could never kill a horse! Theys one of God's beautiful, hard-working creatures, it'd be a damn sin to even think a' killin one. Less issa mercy kill, then I's guess-" he goes on. I can't bear to hear him go further.
"Yeah yeah, you just looking for conversation or do you need somethin?" I ask, pushing my hat up a little.
"I was just wonderin if you'd like a ride. There's a town a little ways froma' here. It's on my way and I was thinkin maybe I can bring you der." The kid says and relaxes where he sat. I stare at him for a second. Now why would he do that? How does this benefit him? He either has a gun on his leg he just wants to shoot me with when I get close. Or he just wants to warm up to me then make his strike. Either way, I ain't too sure of him yet.
". . . Now why would a nice feller like you offer a ride to a old hoot like me? Gonna rob me blind when I lower my guard, huh?" I ask and raise a brow.
"No sir, I'd just hate ta see you walk in the hot sun all's day. It'sa long way. My momma raised me to help people-"
"Alright, alright." I said as I saunter over and climb up. The young man has a welcoming grin on his face. It irks me. Why? I dunno. But it's also. . . Nice. It's nice to see some hospitality in an unforgiving place such as this. I seat myself next to him and relax, my feet already feeling better. They thanked me by hurting less as the other giddied the horses. The horses started a nice trot and off we was off.
The first little while was nothing but silence. It was nice, maybe the feller next to me understood that I just needed a bit to relax. Maybe I could even catch a bit of sleep.
"Do you hunt bounties, mister? Ain't never seen a man who was armed like you who ain't a bounty hunter." He asked without looking at me.
"No, too old." I said as I sighed and pulled out a cigarette. Hesitantly I looked at it before offering it to him. He shakes his right hand dismissively and so I keep it to myself. I rummage my pockets for a match and bring up my boot. I strike my match on my boot and it catches. I put the cigarette to my lips and the lit match to the cigarette. After lighting the cigarette he shakes the match and tosses it away.
"Too old? Then why the hells you walking around with all that gun?" The feller asks as he shook the reigns.
"You believe all that religious hullabaloo, right?"
"Uh... Yeah? Mister it ain't-"
"The Lord, I guess, had decided to give me things and take thems away. And your Lord was so generous to keep me alive. So's I guessin' I'm just looking for revenge. Stirring up a storm I s'pose."
". . . Oh." He says, probably not understanding a word I just said. And that's good. No need to get a good kid like him wrapped up in my storm. It'll get him killed most likely.
For the remainder of the ride he gave me his damn biography. His name is Jebediah. Grew up on a farm in the south with his Ma and Pa. Growing fruits and vegetables and had a lot of cattle. Grown up farming most of his life. His Ma died not too long ago to Tuberculosis and he thinks his Pa is catching it too. Nasty thing, that Tuberculosis.
Soon enough, about evening we arrived in town. Jeb dropped me and I strolled on into the saloon to wet my whistle with some whiskey. After that maybe I'll look for Dan Trigger, the bastard who shot my Sabine all those months ago.
