Casey strides to the coral, sliding the gate latch up and swinging it wide in a smooth arc. Sasha walks over from the water pump, drying his hands on his pants.
"You movin' on now? With yer arm in that shape?"
"Yes, thank you kindly."
Casey says, passing him two dollars.
Sasha goes into the tack room and carries out Casey's saddle, blanket, and bridle. They walk to Steadfast together. Casey reaches Steadfast first and unties him from the post, sliding the bridle over his head and ears. Sasha nods to the thin black leather bridle crossing Steadfast's nose.
"You don't have a bit. That's a fine-trained horse then."
"We've ridden on many roads together."
"It's a fast-lookin' saddle too."
Casey doesn't reply to this comment. His saddle was indeed small and light, perfectly suited for riding fast, and almost a sure sign of an outlaw's horse.
Sasha doesn't seem to mind. You usually didn't ask when the customer you were helping had a clean-looking pair of revolvers and fast fingers. It was all part of the job. Don't ask questions, and none will be asked of you. He had learned this when he came over from the East, however many years ago that had been. He couldn't remember how long it had been. Ten, twenty years now? The West fit him fine, he didn't need to...want to remember life in the harsh wintry environment of Georgia. It had only gotten really bad when the food began to run short.
Casey mounts Steadfast and kicks her boots deep into the stirrups. Sasha accepts the polite tip of her hat and the folded bill she passes down tucked between her index and middle finger.
He watches her trot down the main street, going north, with some sadness. Another kid with no kid left. She reminds him of his sister, dead before the age of eight from some illness that had come upon his entire family as suddenly as a winter storm.
He unfolds the crisp bill in his hand. It's a twenty. He feels light-headed and takes off his shabby postboy's hat, letting it fall to the ground. His arms fall lamely to his sides, fingers shaking as he looks at the bill.
"Yebena mat' !" (Holy shit)
YOU ARE READING
Saddle Dust
Historical FictionCasey 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...
