Chapter 15
I take off for another ride not long after I get back to the stable, telling myself it’s because someone should check the herd and on the men left behind, but I know I really just need to get some distance. In either case, at least the mustang gets in a good stretch of his legs, too.
I wasn’t always as fond of riding or of horses as I am now.
When I was young, tending to them was probably one of my least favorite chores.
But years of necessity and close proximity can go a long way in helping two creatures understand each other, and I can safely say now that I prefer their company more than most people.
They’re less confusing, for one. No hidden motives. No lies. A horse has something it’s after? You’ll know it. Likewise, a horse wants to kill you? You’ll know that, too. Which is more than I can say for everyone I’ve encountered recently…
Why would Cypress give me that watch? Why would he think I deserved it? No matter how far I’ve gone today and no matter how many hours I’ve spent thinking about it, I still can’t figure out the answer.
Sure, he’d said he was sorry for taking my busted one.
That he knew it was wrong, but in my experience, that rarely means much.
People know things are wrong and do them anyway all the time.
Rarely do the apologies they offer afterward actually mean anything.
Never do they actually result in some sort of atonement that is worth more money than I’d ever see otherwise.
Even for a necessity, I simply cannot wrap my mind around the idea of spending that much in one go, and I consider once again that it has to reflect some level of imbalance on his part. Unless…
Maybe this is all an attempt at bribery, and I’ve been overthinking what is merely a way for him to continue pursuing whatever it is that brought him to Soldana by removing me as a potential risk.
That seems the most plausible explanation.
Or it would, except based on the prior evening alone, the likelihood of anyone turning on him before he gives them a personal reason to do so is extremely narrow.
After all, even if I were to say what he’d done, there’s no guarantee that their respect for my gun would translate to their respect for my word.
As much as it might chafe me to admit, the plain reality is that outside of a physical confrontation, I currently pose little threat to him—certainly not enough to necessitate something so extravagant as this peace offering.
And he must know that. Not to mention, when it comes down to it, he doesn’t seem to be that put off by getting physical with me either.
Though a memory pulled from last night’s argument in the alley would have made the most sense for my mind to supply this train of thought, it chooses this moment to take an unexpected route.
Briefly fixating on an entirely different type of activity that involves an entirely different type of closeness than me holding my knife to his throat.
“Fuck’s sake,” I mutter, immediately pushing the picture away and pulling the mustang out of his gallop as we get near to town once more. Not trusting myself to control a breakneck speed if I can’t even control myself.
I should seek out some company soon. Or take myself to mass. Perhaps both, if I’m so overdue that I’m finding myself drifting into these types of considerations.
Not that I am considering it. I’m not considering him at all beyond figuring out why he seems so opposed to the idea of me having a moment of goddamn peace.
With hopes of finding one, I make the abrupt decision to divert toward the river before I return to the barn.
Based on the way the sun is hanging over the horizon, I still have plenty of time before I need to head over to the saloon anyway.
Plus, after riding all the way out to the herd, I’m not the only one who could use a cooldown.
It’s no small mercy that everything looked to be going all right out there in our absence.
Animals were good and the two men left behind were fine, if bored out of their minds.
Can never remember their names… Tommy? Duke?
Dutch? Put a gun to my head and I’m not sure I could tell you, though it seems far too late to ask ‘em and they’re hardly worth learning even if I did. Not like I’ll be around long…
I dismount once I make it close to the bank, take off the mustang’s tack, and turn him loose before I move to stand in the shade beneath a nearby oak tree, watching the water run by slowly while I just as slowly catch my breath.
Still, my pulse picks right back up when I finally let myself reach for the piece of black fabric and its contents in my pocket.
What I should do is march right into town and sell it. Make myself enough money to cut loose. Except…
I look to where the mustang is grazing close by, and I know I can’t just leave him behind. Not after he’s refused to leave me more than once. And especially not when I know Maddock and his men would do nothing but make his life hard.
He doesn’t deserve that. None of their animals do.
If I sold the watch, I could buy him outright. But then Maddock would wonder where I acquired the sudden influx of funds. Start asking questions that I wouldn’t care to answer even if I could.
No, best thing is to finish out the week as planned, take the mustang and whatever portion (if any) of the winnings that Maddock ends up passing over. Then once I’ve put some distance between us, then I could sell it.
Examining it closer, I brush my thumb across the top of the three intricate rings of flowers in the polished silver, admiring the differences between the blooms, and frowning when I notice the smudge of dust that I accidentally leave behind.
Without thinking twice about it, I move the pocket watch to my left palm before using the hem of my shirt to polish the dirt away with my right.
That’s when I’m struck so violently by the recollection of my father doing the exact same thing that the force of it is strong enough to make me stumble back.
To make me put out a hand to steady myself against the tree trunk as I close my eyes—not to chase away the memory, but to try to make it the only thing I can see.
Panic overcomes me when it disappears as quickly as it arrived, no matter how many times I repeat the motion. Again. Again. Again.
“Come on.” Nothing happens. No matter how long I stand there and try, I can’t get it back. “Come on, please.”
I open my eyes again. But there’s still nothing. There’s still no one.
No one but me. And all the consequences of the things I’ve done.