Chapter Twenty-Three #2
“Couldn’t sleep?” Toby asked, settling onto a log beside him.
James shook his head. “Didn’t think I should. Not with him out there.”
Toby nodded, stretching his legs out in front of him. “Smart. A man like that doesn’t take losing lightly.”
They sat in silence for a moment, the crackling of the fire filling the space between them. Then Toby glanced at James, his sharp eyes studying him. “You look like you’re carrying a weight, partner.”
James exhaled slowly, rubbing a hand over his face. “It’s been a long day.”
“Longer for you than most,” Toby said. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.
“I just keep wondering… was it the right call? Sending him out there? Feels like I’ve got his blood on my hands already.”
Toby let out a low hum, his expression thoughtful. “Out here, the right thing and the easy thing are rarely the same.”
James snorted softly. “Doesn’t make it any easier to stomach.”
“No, it doesn’t,” Toby agreed. He fell quiet for a moment, his gaze distant.
Then he shifted, his voice lower, quieter.
“I’ve been in your boots before. Years back, before you joined me, I was guiding another train west. We had a man like Silas—hotheaded, always looking out for himself.”
James glanced at Toby, who leaned back slightly, his eyes fixed on the horizon as if he were seeing the memory play out before him.
“He stole from us, too,” Toby continued. “Took food when we were already running low. Told lies to stir folks up, turned people against each other. It got bad. Real bad. We made it clear he wasn’t welcome, but he refused to leave. Said we’d have to drag him out by force.”
“What did you do?” James asked quietly.
Toby’s face hardened.
“We left him behind. He was too dangerous to keep with us, and I couldn’t risk the whole train for one man. We thought he’d turn back, head east where it was safer. But he didn’t. He followed us for days, skulking in the shadows, waiting for his moment.”
James’s grip on his rifle tightened. “What happened?”
“One night, he tried to sneak into camp. Took a knife to one of the sentries who spotted him. Nearly killed the poor boy.” Toby’s jaw tightened, his voice heavy. “We caught him, but by then, it was too late. Half the camp didn’t trust each other anymore. Took weeks to pull everyone back together.”
James frowned, his brow furrowing as he tried to picture the chaos Toby described. “What happened to him? The man?”
Toby leaned back slightly, his gaze shifting toward the firelight. For a long moment, he didn’t speak, as though weighing the memory.
“We didn’t have much choice,” he said finally. “Banished him. Left him by the river with just enough supplies to get by. He cursed us the whole time—spat every word of venom he could muster. Swore he’d come back for revenge.”
James’s jaw tightened, a chill running through him at the familiarity of the story. “Did he?”
Toby shook his head.
“Never saw him again. But that didn’t stop the fear from eating away at folks.
Every sound in the night, every set of footprints they couldn’t place—people thought it was him.
And the trust? Once it’s broken like that, it doesn’t just come back.
You can patch it up, sure, but it’s never quite the same. ”
James stared into the fire, the flickering flames casting long shadows across his face. “And the trip?” he asked after a moment, his voice quieter. “How did it end?”
Toby exhaled slowly, his eyes narrowing in thought.
“Rough,” he admitted. “But we made it. People came together again eventually, at least enough to get the job done. But it wasn’t easy.
Still think about that trip sometimes. About how close we came to losing it all—not just the supplies or the wagons, but each other. ”
James nodded, his thoughts turning inward. He couldn’t help but draw the parallels—Silas’s exile, the fractures in the camp’s trust, the weight of keeping everything together. The trail was hard enough without the added danger of mistrust and revenge.
Toby’s voice broke through his thoughts. “You did the right thing, Whitaker. It’s never easy making a call like that, but you can’t lead without drawing a hard line sometimes. Folks need to feel safe out here. They need to know you’ve got their backs.”
James glanced at Toby, the older man’s gaze steady and resolute. “What if it’s not enough?” he asked quietly.
Toby leaned forward, his hands clasped together.
“You do what you think is best. What keeps the most people safe. And you live with it.” He looked at James, his gaze steady. “That’s what it means to lead out here. Sometimes you make the call, even when it tears you up inside.”
James nodded slowly, his chest tightening as he thought about the weight of those words. The responsibility. The doubt.
“You did the right thing,” Toby said firmly. “Silas would’ve torn this group apart if he stayed. You can’t save everyone, and some folks don’t want saving.”
James sighed, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. “I just hope it’s enough.”
Toby clapped him on the shoulder, a gesture of rough comfort. “It will be. Now, you keep that rifle close and your eyes sharp. I’ll take over for you in a bit.”
As Toby stood and walked back toward his wagon, James stayed where he was, the rifle steady in his lap as he scanned the shadows. He didn’t know what tomorrow would bring, but for now, he could only do what Toby had said: make the call and live with it.