Chasing the country

CHAPTER TWO: A card from the past

Already a week went by since I joined the van der Linde group, gathering food and making myself comfortable getting to know the people around. Thinking back of the last eight months or so makes me realize I am becoming too isolated by civilization. Those sale pitches and random encounters with locals are not what I would call a social conversation. the men and women around here, who generally engage in conversation, that is what I seem to have missed. It won't take away my drive to go out there for a couple of days and surround myself with freedom but the feeling of coming 'home' sure makes me feel content.

The sun is coming through the crack of my tent and it wakes me up from my sleep. Rubbing my eyes I can feel my skin damp of the already warm air hanging in the tent. Feels like it is going to be a hot day. Dressed in my regular working pants and a loose shirt I merge myself at the breakfast table where a few are already indulging in bread with jam.

Damn, I missed eating jam.

Pearson asks me to fetch some groceries and packages from the post office at Rhodes. The thought of riding my horse just fast enough to have a breeze through my hair makes me east faster to head out. Sean, who is becoming such a good friend, volunteers to join and get away from camp a bit. Sean Macguire, an Irish lad with a naïve sense of humour that I find very entertaining from the get-go. No wonder I grew a good friendship in such a short time.

Riding out, Sean talks about the other members of the gang, the group of men I haven't met yet. Today they will return from some kind of mission outside the region. Something about robbing a train and collecting bonds that they can sell for big money. Sean doesn't really go into further detail but I ain't that interested anyway. I don't need to care about the plans they have or what vision. Dutch gives me the impression they had their plans together, and I'm fine with that. They are outlaws after all, and with my experience, those always bring some kind of trouble on the way. And I don't want any of it. Just tagging along for the ride.

Arriving in town I suggest Sean get the milk and bread from the general store while I collect the packages.
I toss him a coin to get me some of the good branded Gin while he's at it.
Occasionally I like to have a sip or two when the night is right.

Entering the post office I recognize a familiar face behind the counter. Alden, a nice gentleman, whom I have regular business with as he sets me up with legendary animal collectors.

Alden sees me approaching the counter and instantly starts looking under my name for a new parcel.

"No, I'm here to pick up something under Pearson's name" Trying to hold him for doing any extra work but he already has something in his hand.

"Well, this card is under your name Miss, "he says and lays the postcard in front of me. He then continues to search for my requested packages. I pick up the card from the wooden counter and gaze at the front.
The image is from somewhere in the desert of Tumbleweed, a place I recognize instantly, travelling around there many times. I love the scenery so much and can almost smell the sand and the warmth on my skin. Flipping the card over to see what is on the other side I instantly freeze reading the one sentence.

"Miss... Miss... " Alden's voice comes from a distance and places the packages on the counter.

"I need you to sign this " and he is holding a pen in his hand. Snapping out of my gaze I take the pen from his hand and sign the papers. A quick embarrassing smile and I walk out with what I came for.

The men Sean talked about earlier have returned from their mission and the odd thing is, they look like their going away again. Diving ammo, mounting their horses.
While I try to get a place to store Banshee I approach them closer and get a better look of their faces.
Most of them are looking intense, frowned brows and don't really notice my arrival at all.
So these are Dutch's gunslingers...
Getting off my horse I have brief eye contact with a man next to me. He is supplying his horse with a gun rifle and putting medicine in his satchel when he notices movement next to him. His sea blue eyes are captivating when he glances over. He pushes his foot in the stirrup, pulling himself onto his dark brown Hungarian Half-bred and sits in the leather saddle. Casually adjusting his hat while looking over to me one more time. His eyes are searching who I am and for a moment I think he parted his lips to speak....

"Sean, ride with us!" Dutch yells when he joins the guys with a heavy pace. He mounts his horse with one fluent movement. "We got business to take care off" he growls and by the sound of it they are up to something serious.
Sean quickly grabs the groceries from his bag and hands them over to me.
"The paper bag is yours" he winks. It contained a bottle of gin; the good kind imported from Saint-Denis. Nice.