Days passed, the train stopping usually only once every other day to drop off passengers and pick up supplies for the continued journey north. During these stops, Casey and Bill would slide off the train and grab food, usually from the gardens which people seemed to have everywhere on their properties, or steal from the occasional orchard or stray fruit tree. The only thing of value they had in their possession was a few dollars and the horse.
"Why? Why the hell'd you bring the damn beast?"
Bill questioned Casey as they walked back to the train, shirts bulging with rotten oranges and three bottles of beer that Bill had "just found out on a table."
"He's a fine horse. He's got clear eyes, strong legs and chest, healthy teeth, and a powerful heart and lungs. But to be honest with you, I don't know why. I just...well, I don't know. I just have this feeling that it's a beast worth the effort."
Bill's jaw clenched, but he kept his mouth shut tightly. Casey was taking care of the beast now. If she was caught with a stolen animal, it would be her they'd hang. Whenever death's necktie was involved, the gang had a pact: the doer caught was the doer hung.
Casey knew this pact all too well but still accepted the risk. It must be a special horse to make Casey, no friend to chance, take such a risk as that. Bill ran a hand over his grimy mustache and rebalanced an orange.
Casey hopped up onto the car in one swift movement then dumped the oranges in a corner, running back to grab the beers from Bill. The train began to grind along the tracks again almost immediately after Bill swung his feet off of the rails.
He set the oranges aside and pulled the door slightly over so only about five feet were left open. While the horses they were bedding with were firmly tied to various metal loops along the walls of the car, they still might panic from seeing the ground outside of the car which would mean a slow and painful death to the car's human passengers.
Bill sat down on the edge, feet dangling over the side of the train. Casey joined him, snapped the top off a beer, and tossed the cap out into the rushing scenery. She quickly chugged down half, then passed the bottle to Bill who sipped carefully.
They peeled their oranges and talked about past travels they'd had in America, not wanting to discuss memories from the last month. They tossed their orange peels over the side of the rails as they talked. The thick peels hit the ground and stirred up small puffs of dust before tumbling down the heavy gravel slopes of the rails, past the spikes, and into the ditches of the railroad, bleaching in the sun and rotting into the depths of time.
ΔΙΑΒΑΖΕΙΣ
Saddle Dust
Ιστορικό φαντασίαςCasey Long is an outlaw with a storied past and troubles finding her at every turn. When she is shot in a saloon during what some townsfolk describe as a random attack, Casey remembers some very important details from her childhood which ultimately...
