The Path to Ivory

Ch. 2 - The Outlaw

Lifting my hat back so my eyes can scan the horizon ahead of me, a deep resentment arises again as part of me regrets my past actions. It's a feeling I've never quite gotten over, and definitely not one I see going away in the future, either. The sound of horse hooves on the treaded dirt path are all I can hear. That would be Truffle, my beloved horse. He's a Morgan, which means nothing to a person who doesn't spend time around the beasts every day of their life, but to me it means he's smart, strong, and entirely dependable.

I adjust and lift myself off the saddle for a mere second to get comfortable again. Today we set off before sunrise, so we've only been going for about an hour, but there's no point in waiting until I see that sun creep over the flats to leave, might as well get going the moment I stir. Poor Truffle, he works hard for me. I don't think he minds, but I'll do the minding for us either way.

Now where exactly was I heading? It may be expected for me to say anywhere but where I was before, but what better answer is there? My days in my old homes have worn out, I frayed every knot I had back there and my past lives were over. Every town was a new name and a new problem. Loving the mayors daughter, stealing from the city bank, killing the sheriff. Everything I did was for a reason, granted, but that doesn't make it alright.

That's my current battle within myself. Where did my morals lie?

I know no one back where I came from wanted to hear a cowboy's problems, that's why I made them theirs. If you don't want to respect me, I can't promise your safety. A gruff sigh rolls out of my throat and into my bandanna while I think of these things. When you're traveling alone like this it's all you can do. Best thing to do is bottle it up and await your reckoning. The sun was making itself known now, and in the weirdest way, it reminded me of my mortality.

I give Truffle a firm pat on his neck and lean back, letting him take the lead for a bit. Not like he'd stray off the path, nor was it like he could go in the wrong direction. The only wrong way was back, and lord knows that's not the first time I've said that. If we made good strides, though, before nightfall should we find a new place to sleep. To my horse it was all the same, but to my back, the hard floor or the face of a rock was doing me no favors. If I wanted to stay sharp I'd need a proper rest, soon. And a good meal. Mama always said 'You can start a fight with a cup of coffee, but you won't live without a strip of bacon.' Smartest woman i'd ever known, that's for sure. Seen her kill more men with a frying pan or a high heel than a marksman with a six shooter.

I wonder what she'd think of me now. She'd probably slap me right up the back of my head. I chuckled at the thought, a deep resounding noise. "I'm bet'n you miss mama just 's well, ain'tcha?" I ask Truffle. His head tosses in response, and that's a good enough answer for me. She spoiled the hell out of this horse, and I can guarantee that's why he's so strong. Same as I, I suppose. Though we may have different definitions of spoiled. We didn't have any silver spoons or our lives set out for us, every day was a test of strength. But what my mama got, she gave.

The spinning of wheels distracts me from my thoughts. I'd see some people on my journey now that the sun was rising, no surprise there, so the carriage passing me didn't worry me one bit. I nod, tipping my hat to them, but never showing my face. You never knew what people know about you. "G'mornin." I bid them. The man driving simply nods, and that's more than I expected.

It's the start of a long ride for Truffle and I, and all I can do is pray it goes my way.