To Catch A Ghost: a Red Dead Redemption fan fiction

Chapter 9 - Día de los Muertos

The leather saddle creaked and moaned as Maddie swung it up and over her horse's back; it settled upon the blanket and Gypsy before she adjusted it and moved it to its proper position. The rocky mountain filly flicked her ears back and glanced over her wither at her rider. The young females met gazes before looking away as Maddie reached underneath her mount's belly and grabbed the front cinch. Her fingers fumbled with the latigo as she began tightening it in haste, looping it through the front rigging dee twice before slipping her fingers between the latigo and her horse's side and tugging it tighter. Her hands trembled with anticipation as she finished up with the front cinch and moved on to the back cinch. A determined scowl had set upon her teenage face ever since she awoke at four that morning—she had beaten the old man in being the first to wake, and as she finished saddling her horse, she glanced over her shoulder through the open doors of the livery, suddenly realizing that she was the only one in Chuparosa that was awake. The town was eerily quiet—not even the roosters were crowing yet at this hour.

"Looks like we're the only ones awake, darlin'," Maddie whispered to the filly as she walked back toward the front of her steed. Gypsy looked at her with wide, brown eyes, eager to be on the road towards whatever destination her rider had in mind. It had only been a few years since she'd had this horse, but to her, she was her best friend and trusted travelling companion. Maddie smiled to her horse and slid her hand up her muzzle and underneath her forelock. Her fingers wove themselves through the long silvery mane, and Gypsy lowered her bridled head to allow her rider to further pet between her ears. With one last scratch and an affectionate pat on her mount's neck, the young lady withdrew her hand and set about checking over her arsenal of weapons she'd strapped to herself earlier. Her Schofield revolver was hung at her right hip while her Henry repeater was slung over her back. Both firearms were loaded and ready: she'd cleaned them and loaded them the night before while Landon was asleep in his room off of the cantina. She looked through the saddlebags one last time to make sure she'd packed plenty of ammunition. She reached her hand inside the left saddlebag and withdrew the wanted poster. She briefly looked over it, memorizing the sketch and the name of her target: Alejandro Velázquez looked grisly and imposing with his dark handlebar mustache and unkempt hair flowing out from underneath a large sombrero. His face was marred with several long, thick scars that stretched across his face, adding to his off-putting countenance. Maddie chewed on her bottom lip as she glanced over the poster one last time before stuffing it back into the saddlebag and tying it closed. With a determined smirk, she criss-crossed the reins atop the saddle horn and mounted up.

"Come on, girl," she said bravely down to her horse. "Let's go prove that old coot what he thinks we can't do." Gently, she nudged the filly's sides with her spurs.

She loped her black beauty out of Chuparosa and down the winding large road. The morning air held a dreadful, biting chill to it, stinging her face and hands. With a shiver, she tucked her chin into the collar of her duster and shirt, hoping her hat would deter the wind from her face. Nevertheless, the cold morning wasn't enough to stop her from achieving her goal, and with a burning determination and an insatiable sense of trigger twitch, she kicked her horse into a gallop as she passed Ojo del Diablo. Gypsy followed the winding road freely, unaffected by the cold air and excited to be out of her stall. Up until that point, neither horse nor rider had ridden out alone without Rickett's permission and protective presence—Maddie knew she was breaking a cardinal rule, and the realization of doing so was both exhilarating and frightening at the same time. Ever since she'd arrived in Chuparosa, she'd been under Landon's constant paternal vigilance and guidance.

Well, it's about damn time I got out from underneath his possessive claws, Maddie thought with a roll of her eyes. She scoffed as she recalled all the times he reminded her not to leave town without him. "Don't even think you're ready for the world out there, mi niña," he'd warn. "You're too hot-headed and brash. You let your gun do the thinking. You're not ready at all. Not until you control that temper of yours." And every time he'd admonish her, she'd roll her eyes, huff irritably, and think otherwise.