Chapter 34
Sticking to his plan, Deadshot and Rider had stocked up on supplies and then headed into the desert.
Deadshot had bought two extra canteens for each of them, meaning both of them had four now.
They had filled them with water and stocked their bags with food.
If they were simply going to make their way through the desert, Deadshot wouldn’t have been so worried, but they weren’t just heading through.
They were going to be searching for Quincy’s hideaway, and who knew how long that could take?
Deadshot was pretty sure that they would find Quincy and his men hiding somewhere in the desert, but there was no guarantee, and that was the frustrating part.
He had promised the kid that he would find answers for him, and he was determined to keep his promise regardless of how difficult the circumstances were.
Deadshot would find a way to survive. He’d suffered through the desert before, but he was worried about the kid.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” Deadshot asked as they rode. They weren’t pushing the horses to go too fast, and they were stopping often so that the animals could rest. The desert was an intense place for horses, too, and they couldn’t risk losing them along the way.
“Yes,” Rider replied.
“I know you feel like you have to be a part of this, but it’s not too late to turn back. I can do this on my own. I won’t fail you.”
Rider shook his head. “I’m not turning back,” he said. “I’m seeing this through.”
“All right, kid. We’ll do this together, then.”
Deadshot understood why the kid felt like he had to do it, and if Deadshot were in his shoes, he would have done the same.
Right now, the kid felt like he had nothing to lose.
He was too angry and set on rescuing his mother and sister, who might or might not be alive, to see that he still had his whole future ahead of him.
The kid was stubborn, but Deadshot already knew this, and it was up to him to make sure that the kid stayed safe.
They had left early that morning. At first, they had followed the road, but eventually, they had to venture off it and into the desert.
Now, the road was long gone, and all that Deadshot could see in every direction was sand.
The land wasn’t completely barren. Strown randomly across the plains were boulders, trees, and shrubs, but they were sparse and in no way provided any shade.
Deadshot had his wide-brimmed hat covering his head and his neckerchief covering most of his face. It was midday, and the sun was unforgiving. The kid looked pretty much the same. Luckily, working on his family’s ranch, he had learned how to protect himself from the sun a long time ago.
He lifted his hand and held it above his eyes as if to shield them from the sun. “How do we even know where we’re going?” he asked. “Everything looks the same.”
Deadshot laughed at this. “That’s what compasses are for.”
“I know that,” the kid complained. “It’s just . . . what are we even looking for?”
“I’m not sure.” Deadshot shrugged as he scanned the area that surrounded them. “But we’ll know when we see it.”
The kid groaned.
“Look, I told you this was going to be difficult, and we could be out here for a really long time.” Deadshot knew firsthand how being in the desert for days on end could affect a man.
“You have to find ways to keep your mind busy. Don’t focus on the fact that everything looks the same or that hopeless feeling that’s going to seep into your bones. ”
“How do I do that?” the kid asked, his focus on Deadshot now.
“Well, for a start, you’re not alone. It’s much easier to stay sane when you have somebody to talk to.”
“You already complain that I talk too much,” the kid pointed out.
This was true, but it could be useful in some circumstances. Deadshot had never had company on any of his missions before, but it would have been welcome during the previous times he spent in the desert.
“I’ll make an exception while we’re here,” Deadshot replied with a smile. “We’re going to have to find ways to keep our minds busy. Count the trees, play seeing games, sing songs, or tell stories. Whatever works.”
The kid burst out laughing. Deadshot wasn’t sure why, but laughing was a good thing. It was much better than worrying. “What’s so funny?”
“I can’t imagine you singing.”
Deadshot faked being offended. “I’ll have you know I can keep a tune pretty well.”
“Prove it,” he challenged, still laughing.
If it were anybody else, Deadshot would have straight up refused, but it was the kid, and for some reason, Deadshot wanted to make him happy.
“Go on then,” the kid added.
Deadshot cleared his throat and started singing. He didn’t know many songs, but a few had found a home in his head. This particular song was his favorite. His mother had always sung it to him as a kid.
The kid went silent for a few seconds before he started waving his hands around frantically. “Stop, stop, please. You’re hurting my ears.”
Deadshot knew he couldn’t sing, and he was perfectly okay with that. A person couldn’t be good at everything. He kept singing, louder and louder. Usually, he wouldn’t have condoned making such a noise, but he could see miles in all directions, and there was nothing. They were completely alone.
Deadshot finished the song, belting out the last note and causing the kid to tremble with laughter.
“That was horrible,” the kid complained. “Please don’t ever sing again.”
“Do you really think it’s a good idea to insult me when you need me most?” Deadshot asked, trying to act serious but failing miserably.
“Your singing might kill me before the desert does.”
Deadshot would have been offended if it weren’t true. “I’ll make you a deal,” he offered playfully. “I won’t sing as long as you agree to tell me a story.”
“What do you want to hear?”
“Anything,” Deadshot replied honestly. “Tell me about your family.”
The kid’s face lit up. “You really want to hear about them?”
“Of course.” Deadshot was actually curious about what the kid’s life was like before the raid.
The kid had told him a lot of things, but Deadshot wanted to hear the more fun stuff.
The things that really mattered. He wanted to hear what it felt like to have a family.
“And anyway, it can only be better than my singing.”
The kid started telling a story about his mother and sister.
It wasn’t all that interesting, but Deadshot could hear the love in his voice.
He sounded so happy to be talking about them.
A warm feeling crept into Deadshot’s chest, and along with it came a longing he had never felt before.
Deadshot had never cared about being alone or not having a family because the last time he had a real one was when he was eight years old.
Many people would argue and say that he did have a family growing up, and they would probably be right, but despite being loved and taken care of, Deadshot had felt like an intruder.
He had lived with his aunt and uncle and played with his nieces and nephews, but they weren’t his like his mother, father, and brother had been.
His anger had consumed him for a long time, and as a child, that wasn’t easy to cope with.
Training to become a bounty hunter was what had gotten Deadshot through his childhood. He had turned his anger into determination to become the best. He had already been a great shot, and his training had only made him better.
Since the moment he left his aunt and uncle’s house, he had been alone.
He worked alone, traveled alone, and lived alone.
He had never stayed in the same place long enough to settle down, and he had never felt the need to do that until he retired.
Even after he had retired, he was happy to live alone, but now, the kid had awakened something in him that he thought he would never feel.
He was longing for a family he would never have.