Cowboys & Ghosts

9. Different Sides Of The World

"Goddamn it," said Slim, marching out. Without even thinking that she had been hurt, Daisy followed. Out the front door and in the middle of the dirt road downtown, where Daisy saw Cody shooting at the dirt like a tantruming child. Shaban was shouting at him, despite the loud effects of each bullet that made both young men fall on deaf ears. With her 'uncle' having his back turned, Daisy snuck around and from behind; she pointed her revolver at Cody. Startled, the other outlaw fell to his knees. Daisy stood above him, redemption warring on her face. "Whatever you are on," she mused. "Uncle Slim would want to know as much as I do."
"Cody," Slim responded. "We need to talk. Daisy, you and the Indian are dismissed." Ever so grudgingly, Cody followed his boss back into the house. Daisy twirled her revolver around her finger, before putting it away in its pocket. "He does seem to hate the different sides of the world," she said. "Like we're outlaws, and whoever isn't one of them, one bullet could strike them in a single beat."
"If you're no outlaw, then what are you?" Shaban asked. It was nearly sunset, and the air was warmer than hot and thicker than dirt as the sky was darker. Daisy looked at the Indian grimly, fixing her belt. "I'm nobody."
"Then, you're just getting started," Shaban said. "I see that feather I gave you is taped to your hat. It's a sign of having this look, it's the brave attitude." He gestured, and Daisy followed him to a nearby saloon. They entered and reserved a table. "While you were passed out," Shaban went on. "Mr. Harrison tells me you're looking for a ghost rider."
"He holds a $1,000 reward," Daisy said. Suddenly, she halted, eyes wide. "You've heard stories as well?" Shaban nodded. "From an Indian friend of mine back in the Arkansas territory, which is where your ghost rider will be. I warn you, Daisy; the wild west and the territory are extremely dangerous." Daisy arched an eyebrow, suddenly and ridiculously optimistic. "Thanks for your concern, Indian," she replied. "But I know I can look after myself."

It wasn't Daisy's first priority. Her next step was to look for the one and only ghost, who had seemingly went missing from the sky. It had been three days, and her wound had made a full recovery. She just stood in front of the mirror, examining the scar. Indeed, it was stitched up and that was all there was to it. She was ready, despite the others' opinions. She was fixing her revolver, when the bedroom door opened. "Everybody's waiting, Daisy," said Slim. "It's the best of luck for you on your journey."
"I'm not the only person looking for this boy," Daisy replied. "What if someone else finds him?" She holstered her gun on the left side of her belt. "Don't worry," Slim mused, letting her follow him downstairs. "I have several men in the range. Rather they're up high or close to us." Once outside, all outlaws, including Cody and Shaban, were in line of the girl's departure. Dollar was all dressed in saddle and bridle, almost neighing with excitement. Daisy let her gaze look straight ahead of her. It was the mountains, as far as the eye could see; they were waiting to be destined with greatness and determination. The teenager stood on the front step, dazed, until she felt the firm grip of Slim's palms against her shoulders. "There's nothing I can do for now," said the old man. "But all there is to you is; good luck." Daisy nodded, deeply breathing in and out, preparing herself. Finally, she mounted in her saddle. She turned her horse around, holding up her revolver. The round that echoed through the air caused the people to erupt with cheering in mature celebration. The spurs in her boots caused Dollar to gallop, on his rider's way out of Hot Spring, Arkansas. The more she rode, the less of the people she could hear, as if she weren't to hear anyone for miles ahead. She didn't look back, too focused on riding along with the wind, that was blown through her blonde hair and Dollar's black mane.