In an America that might have been, two war orphans from a divided nation, one in the north and one in the south, meet across a vast battlefield, striking out to forge a future together in the west. It's 1892, the fourth and bloodiest year of the Ci...
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Deke, his saddlebags over his shoulder, was staring into the black darkness inside the stables. "There's surely somebody in there keeping watch," he thought. But there was no way that he was going to be able to get in to find out without being seen. So he decided to do it straight. He sat down, pulled off his boot, and took out his money.
"Hello?" he called. "I need my horse. Hello?"
He heard a snort from the back, then "What?"
"I need my horse. Sorry about it being so late, but it's an emergency."
"We're closed. I can't take money, the boss isn't here, so you have to come back in the morning."
"I've got to go now, my brother came and said the house caught fire and my Mom's burned bad. He's getting my cousin and we have to go."
"I can't."
"I'll pay you double. We need to go now. I was planning on staying that long anyway."
There was a drawn out grumble, "Double huh?"
"Three horses, my cousin's and mine."
A match was struck and he could see a grizzled old face with a bushy mustache as he pulled the glass off a lamp to light it. The man stood, picked up the lamp and walked forward. Deke noticed that his hand was on his gun.
"Mine's the palomino," and Deke walked over to Ned. Ned nuzzled him looking for apples.
"Well OK, he's yours at least. That'll be $6."
"$6!" said Deke genuinely astonished. "Mister, it should be $3."
"Yes, but you say this is an emergency and it's I don't know what time in the morning."
"$6."
The man snorted and crossed his arms.
"$5," Deke said.
The man licked his lips and smirked, "OK, $5."
Deke counted out the money and saddled the horses with absolutely no help from the old man. Before he rode out, he looked at the man and shook his head. "$5, damn." He meant it. His wallet much lighter, Deke rode towards the center of town before he headed out just in case the old man was watching.
Between the Union and the Rebels, there were no bridges left standing across the Missouri river so he couldn't go north. He didn't want to ride all the way to Denver which meant he was going to have to meet a train eventually. It was in some ways unfortunate that it was the middle of the night, because he could really use a look at the route maps in the station.
One thing he did know was that he had to leave town by the road or they'd see his trail right off, and he had to do it fast. So he set out for the edge of town at a trot through dark empty streets. When he made the main road, he forced himself to slow to a walk. It was hard but he knew that if they had any kind of tracker with them, he would see the tracks and know it was someone in a hurry.
