Saddle Dust

Chapter 6

The gang started off before the sun could pull itself up onto the horizon and begin to bake the earth into perfect little clay cakes.
The gang was bitterly exhausted from what Butch Cassidy described as enough sleep to satisfy a brain-dead night owl, but exhilarated nonetheless with the knowledge that they were wanted. People the law was seeking out to destroy. None of them expected to get away with only a sit-down in the cooler after the things they'd done this past two...three? Years? Had it really been that long?
Bullion woke the sleeping Casey and lifted her onto her horse, a short but sturdy gray-brown quarter.
"Yer ridin' with me today Casey Long. Sundance's horse needs a break."
" Nn'k."
"You got a hat? No...' course you don't. That bandana'll have to do."
Casey took Carver's dust-worn bandana out of Casey's dress belt and tied it over her long, dirty chestnut-brown hair.
"Yer goin'ta need a new outfit if yer gonna be ridin' with us now."
"Nn'k."
"You don't mind wearin' a cowboy's cloth would ya?"
"No, it sounds better than this dumb dress. Can't even walk in it properly."
Bullion smiled and the gang mounted their horses. Bullion swung herself onto her polished black saddle. Cherrup!
Bill started beating the trail, whipping his horse's flank with his bowler. They set off at a steady trot.
"What were you doing all way up east?"
"I got on the train in Philadelphia with my aunt and uncle. My...the family I was living with sent me there to get a lady's education. I hated it. Everything there. So I left. Got on the train, and never even considered lookin' back, let alone goin' back."
Bullion considered this before cautiously asking.
"So...your folks, how long do you 'spose they'll look for you?"
"How long? Oh, I reckon they'll keep lookin' three, maybe four days. It's a big place, Philadelphia. They won't be lookin' for long and they'd never look for me all the way out here. Plus they've got too many people to take care of on the farm to worry about me. I don't wanna go back to that borin' ol' life though if that's what you're worried about. Mama and Papa were real nice folk, they near spoilt me and their own. Does that make me ungracious? Am I— was I a bad daughter to them? I figure so."
Casey paused, letting the horse's hooves bite into the hard-packed trail a few times before continuing to answer in a careful, but growingly passionate way.
"...but when they sent me up to Philadelphia, well, I can't live that life. I...I just can't. It would be like...like being locked up. Forever! Like momma's chickens. I can't do that Laura, I CAN'T! And when you'n Sundance n' Butch n' Carver n' Wild Bill n' Deaf Charlie came along, I...didn't know where to go, I just wanted out of that school and..."
Casey's voice broke off, and she stayed silent for the next hour or so. Bullion didn't press, but her mind wandered across the prairie planes. First to Casey's home in Texas, and then swiftly riding the tracks along to Philadelphia, walking through the blood on the train in Iowa, and then catching up with the freshly-loosened dust clouds of the party.
They continued on the trail. Moving slowly, spending the nights in a dry creek ditch or under some scraggly willows. Casey's infected wound seemed to be clearing up, and by sunup on the third day, she was able to carry on a conversation without having to stop from the pain.