Saddle Dust

Chapter 6

The next morning, Casey and Anita have eaten and are riding out of St. Louis before most of the city is even awake. It is a full day's ride to the part of the trail where they plan to intercept the coach, and time is already running tight. Their talk with Duke last night provided them with invaluable information that will save them hours of scouting out the area. When asking Duke for information on the surrounding area and trails, they were careful not to give up any information on what they would be robbing and when as there is always an auctioning price for every piece of information told. Especially to the owner of a saloon.
Casey and Ania ride without stopping, their horses keeping up with the pace nicely.
"I'm honestly surprised Chadwell's horses are as good as they are."
"What's that?" Anita rides up next to Casey so they trot side by side.
"Oh, I was just saying that Chadwell gave us good horses."
"What? Did he give the gang poor horses the last time you did business with him?"
"The gang never got horses from him. We only ever sold to Chadwell, but he's been known to give both his buyers and sellers a rather thin price for the product or thin product for the price."
"Ah. I see. Yes, they are fine horses, especially for what we paid."
"I'm thinking Chadwell was hoping we'd give him some of the cut once we've sold the coach. I actually have half a mind to."
"That so?"
"Can't hurt to grease the wheels when you can."
Anita nods, and they ride in silence for a little while.
"You ever robbed in Franklin county before?"
Casey thinks, trying to picture the rough route Duke sketched out for them on their map last night.
"No, I don't think so. But we did once in Wayne and twice in Stoddard. That whole part of Missouri is mostly swamp though. Not overly pleasant for hiding out for the few days before and after the robberies."
"I hope all these trees will give us cover so we can avoid a shootout."
"Me too, but I don't think we'll need to worry all that much once we've got the drivers taken care of."
Anita bites her lip, and makes as if to say something, then changes her mind. Casey looks over at her, sensing her hesitation.
"What's got yer horses trottin'?"
"Erm...well. It's just that...Casey, what'll we do if one of us dies?"
Casey lets the horses' hooves fill the silence. She hasn't considered this exactly, but it had crossed her mind once or twice over the past few weeks.
"We're not going to."
"I don't think either of us' plannin' on dying, but one of still could." Anita's voice remains controlled but Casey can feel the apprehension in it all the same.
"Well, if it's me, then you get the hell out of there and get yourself a ticket straight back to San Dimas and the saloon. If it's you, then I'm gonna take your body back to San Dimas, bury you and the rest of my heart right proper in the prairie your father used to take you to, and cry moren's in the Mississippi. Then I'll go back to the bottle and never come out again."
"Casey! Don't tease like that!"
Casey turns to look at her and Anita sees there's no humor in her eyes..
"I'm not teasing. I mean it. Don't stick around. Get the hell out if I'm dead because then they'll start looking for you."
"You know I'd never leave you like that. It's not right."
"A lot of things ain't right but you getting caught because of my corpse would be the worst of it. Promise me that if I die, you won't do anything stupid."
Casey can see Anita's eyes shining with barely retained tears, but she answers is a strong voice.
"And you promise me you'll not die."
"I promise. And don't worry. Neither of us is going to the bone orchard anytime soon."
Anita's face brightens considerably.
"Thank you Casey. I've just had this odd dream that you…you get caught andâ€"-"
Casey smiles kindly at her.
"Oh the old Pinkerton dream. I know exactly what you're talking about. I used to get those too after Sundace and Butch died and it was just me and Bill. I always worried that he would get caught and I would have to watch him go to the firing line. After he told me to hang up my guns and get a dress, those nightmares became my new daydream."
Casey jokes and Anita can't help but smile a little. She feels much better (and a little foolish) now that Casey has shared having experienced the same thing.
"I do want to tell you though that I'm going to do some things that will make me seem like a very, very different person. Holding up a coach, especially one with passengers, is a delicate business and you will not like what either of us has to do sometimes."
"I didn't come along for vacation. I know it ain't gonna be pretty." Anita looks at Casey and sees that she is practically glowing with either pride or excitement. Anita can't tell which.
"I know you do. That's why I asked you along."
Anita throws back her head and laughs.
"Ha! You couldn't stop me from comin' along if you'd chained me up and locked me away somewhere."
"Yeah. That's probably true."
"Besides, you need looking after. You're like an unruly, sticky-fingered child at a carnival."
"Thanks ma."
Anita takes on a high-and-mighty motherly tone and holds her head in the air.
"Of course, darling."
Casey snorts and rolls her eyes. "Great."
She pauses and looks around at the low, rolling hills covered generously in trees, shrubs, and a significant population of both crawling and flying bugs that chirp and buzz and whine in the horse's and their rider's ears. She shields her eyes from the sun and looks up at the blue sky, checking its position.
"Could you look at the map and see how far out we are? We've got to be getting close."
"Sure."
Anita takes the neatly folded map out of the inside pocket of the duster Casey insisted she purchase for the trip. She folds the map backwards on itself then opens one of the flaps. She finds the rough pencil she and Casey plotted out last night lining the ink road they are currently on. She takes a moment to measure with her fingers and double check against the distance they've already covered.
"Three, maybe four more hours I'm guessing."
Casey nods. "That seems right. Thanks."
"The trail looks so short and easy on the map. There's no trees or rocks or puddles slowing things down. And no sun."
Casey laughs. "Right you are. We should take the trail on the map next time."
Anita takes her hat off and fans herself with it. "It really is hot out. I bet it's even hotter here than in San Dimas."
"That's southern heat. Can't even breathe in the air. I've always hated holding up coaches and trains down here. Especially in the summer."
"Let's hold up someplace in the north after this. Maybe even in New York." Anita jokes.
"Ha! Sure we can. I've never done a big city before. It's much harder to get away afterwards."
The two of them continue on, letting the hooves of their horses eat up the miles between them and their campsite.
Four hours later, Anita spots the small overhang they marked as their stopping point on the map. The sun is just beginning to meet the horizon and its dying light stretches Casey and Anita's shadows into tall taffy figures. The taffy figures climb down from their taffy-legged horses and tie their mounts to taffy trees. The taffy-horses flick their long ears and sniff in the scratchy, taffied leaves of nearby plants.
Casey and Anita set their things down under the overhang and climb up the small hill supporting the rock acting as their shelter. From the top of the hill, they can see the other fork of the road where they will, with a little luck, hold up the coach sometime tomorrow afternoon.
"Let's go down and see where there's a good place for me to hide while you convince them of some tragedy or another."
They climb through the dense, humid woods down to the road on the other side of the hill, pushing bushes and branches out of their way and trying to avoid the occasional mud puddle. They stumble out onto the packed dirt road and are momentarily thankful for the road's smooth, relatively solid terrain.
Anita walks a little down to the right and peers into the bushes. She then paces out her steps form the edge of the woods to the center of the road and stands, feet planted firmly and hands on hips looking triumphantly back at Casey.
"Here, what do you think of this spot?"
Casey walks over and examines the spot on the road, peering first west and then east, down the road. She checks the woods edging in on either side, and nods.
"It'll do, alright." She looks at Anita. "You sure you never robbed a coach before?"
Anita smiles, laughter in her voice.
"Never. You sure you never played cards before the San Francisco station?"
Casey rolls her eyes and looks east back down the road in the direction the coach would be coming from.
"Right. Got it. Some've us' just born naturals I guess."
"So I'll be telling my storyâ€"I'm thinking I lost my way gathering berries and now I'm scared and alone, and you'll be hiding in the bushes somewhere behind the coach, right?"
"Yep, but I'm not going to tell you where I'll be hiding because I don't want you to accidentally look in my direction and give it away. If you'll excuse me, of course."
"No offense taken. That sounds alright."
"Good. Then once you' ve got the driver paying attention, I'll climb up on top and see how hard his head really is. And if anything should go wrong or start to smell funny on your half, I'll be right behind you."
Anita nods, and then shifts her gaze down the road back towards St. Louis where the coach is expected to come from. Casey lets her stand in silence for a moment, sensing she needs to think things over. She walks over and stands next to Anita, pulling a cigarette out of her shirt pocket as she does so. She strikes a match on the heel of her boot, lights the cigarette, and snaps the match sharply to the ground, its flame cutting out immediately. She draws in a slow take of the cigarette and lets the smoke dissipate into the air as she lets it slowly out between her lips. Anita looks at her, face solemn, but doesn't say anything. Casey lets the cigarette hang between her fingers and looks straight ahead down the road as she talks in a gentle tone.
"You feeling alright about this?"
Anita doesn't reply for a moment, but when she does, it is a question spoken in the same low, quiet tone she uses whenever Casey is out of it.
"Are you?"
Casey tips her head back and forth, considering.
"You know, I never even asked myself that question before." She looks back at Anita. "I've robbed, lied, fought, and stolen from countless people since I was little older than eight."
Casey looks down the road again and draws in on her cigarette again.
" 'Suppose you could say I know hardly anything else and you know what? I think I'm alright with that."
Anita is silent again for a little while. "I've always wanted to try holding something up."
Casey looks back, surprised.
"You have?"
Anita nods. "Yeah. Ever since I was a little girl and saw a wanted poster for the first time."
Casey laughs. "Really? Normally that's not how most folks get started, but I suppose. I guess I was a little the same. Never wanted to just sit back and let it all go by."
"That's just it I guess."
Casey draws in on her cigarette again, and Anita holds out a hand.
"I thought you were against smoking." Casey says, an entertained expression tugging at her lips.
"I am." Anita says, taking the cigarette out of Casey's fingers. She draws in on the cigarette for a long time before releasing a grey cloud of smoke out into the quickly cooling air.
"I am against smoking, and that's why I'm going to put you on a no-smoking campaign until we get back to San Dimas."
Casey mock frowns at Anita's remark. "Aww. But I don't smoke all that much. Besides, it's for good luck."
"You're right. You really don't, but it's still just not a good habit. I'm sure of it. Papa always said so and that's why he only ever smoked a pipe."
Anita draws in again on the cigarette and hands it back to Casey who finishes it then tosses it to the damp earth, grinding its remains into the road.
"Let's go back and get a fire going. It's getting chilly out here and we've got a long day tomorrow."
Casey nods and follows Anita back along the deer trail they bushwhacked through the dense greenery on their way to check the road. The two shake the dirt from the long trip out of St. Louis from their bedrolls and spread them out under the overhang. Casey takes a small bundle of dry twigs she collected earlier in the day just outside of the city, and tents them over a little nest of moss. She finds the driest sticks she can and shaves off their bark into the nest of moss. After several attempts with an army of matches, a small lick of flame crawls hungrily along the dry twigs. She slowly feeds the flames with a diet of the driest damp wood she can find and slowly, the fire builds up enough to heat a can of corn.
Anita drags her bedroll over and sits, watching the flames blacken the sides of the can. Casey finishes sharpening the ends of four sticks and stabs them at an angle into the soft sandy earth. She takes her boots, then her socks off and puts a sock on each stick so they lean towards the fire. She pairs up her boots and sets them close to the fire, letting its heat cook the sweat and water from her boots.
"Here, give me your shoes."
Anita undoes the laces on her low-heeled shoes and hands them to Casey who reaches over the small fire and takes her shoes. She loosens the laces fully and pulls the tongue forward so it is sticking out. She hangs the boots upside down on the two remaining sticks angled towards the fire. She walks through the dirt, barefoot, and sits next to Anita on the bedroll letting the fire dry her feet.
"You'd be surprised by just how many more miles letting your boots hang out by the fire can give you before they get all hot again."
"Henry does that every night but I never really saw the point of it until today."
They sit in silence for a while before Anita breaks in with a mischievous laugh in her voice.
"I bet Mrs. Harlson would faint if she knew what we were doing out here."
"Ha! Yeah. I bet she'd just about die if she knew that we were even out here."
Casey leans forward and gingerly rotates the hot can with the tips of her fingers.
"You never told me. When you went back to the Hartford's last year, were they alright with…with you? With everything you'd done?"
Casey burns her fingers on the can and nearly knocks it over so surprised is she by Anita's question. She pulls her hand back and presses her fingers to the side of her leg in an attempt to cool them.
"Umm…I don't think…"
Casey carefully takes the can from the fire and sets it on the ground. It sizzles when it comes into contact with the damp earth.
"…I don't think they felt like they had any choice."
"How so?"
Casey turns the question over in her mind. She realizes that she hadn't thought about it much if at all, especially when she was with the Hartfords. She had been too busy trying to get Philip to tell her why he had tried to kill her so many times throughout her childhood that she hadn't even thought about her first real family during her visit. About her mother, and her siblings, especially.
"Well, I haven't thought much about it." She says, considering.
Anita takes her knife out and helps Casey pry open the can which hisses steam and spits as its contents come into contact with the pressure-less, cool night air.
"I suppose they thought I was just trying to make a quick buck off them or trying to lay low until some lawmen or other stopped looking for me. They sure weren't expecting me, I know that much."
Anita pours the extra water from the can and sits back on the bedroll. She places the can between them and pulls out the two tin spoons she and Casey had brought with them from San Dimas.
"I was just curious because…because ofâ€""
Realization hits Casey. She's worried that if Harry finds outâ€"which he undoubtedly will, she'll have to go back and face him. He still doesn't know exactly what we're doing out here…
"You're worried about Harry?"
Now it's Anita's turn to be surprised.
"Yes, I suppose I am."
Casey sees something else.
"But it's not just Harry. It's the rest of San Dimas. It's The name of the grocer's back in San DImas. It's Jericho and Theodore and Maxwell and the other customers who I've come to like seeing around the saloon after they're done with work for the day."
Casey takes one of the spoons from Anita and eats a few bites before passing the can back to Anita. She chews, swallows, and wipes her mouth on the back of her hand before replying.
"This is an extreme scenario we're talking about here. If we're careful, no one should even find out your name or what you look like besides the people we're robbing."
"I suppose…"
Anita downs half the can then passes its remains back to Casey who cleans it.
"I get what you're saying though. I know I was a little worried that the Hartford'sd find me what with my name being in the papers and all, but they just didn't bother. You've got your saloon and I know you want to go back to it, but we're a long ways from San Dimas and I don't think we're plannin' on doing anything that would get our faces all the way back there."
"I…you're right. We ain't going to do much more than hold up a few coaches an' such. And I don't even know if I want to keep up with that ol' saloon forever."
Casey looks up at Anita, raising her eyebrows.
"Really?"
A small smile tugs at Anita's features.
"Nope. I think I'll go back after this, but I was thinking that maybe…that maybe I'd let Harry run it most of the time and then we could go out and pick over coaches and maybe even a bank or two."
Casey feels something stir in her chest. It's a combination of excitement, hope, and overwhelming happiness and love for Anita.
"You…you'd really want to?"
"Sure I would!" Anita says with a laugh.
"And we haven't even robbed our first coach yet."
"No, but I'm quite sure that if it's half as good as this trip has been so far, it's bound to make quite the adventure."
Casey shakes her head and watches the fire, a smile of pure contented news playing across her face.
"I thought I was going to be done holding up places after Steadfast. Hell, I thought I was going to be done with a lot of things after that."
"That's something else you haven't told me yet!"
"What?"
"How you found Steadfast in the first place."
"Oh! I guess I haven't. Well, when me an' Bill was in Bolivia and we were trying to make our way back up north, we saw a small ranch with a little pony field out back of the house. There were horses in the field and…"

Casey tells the story and she finds that the memory has lost it's bitter edge after Sundance, Butch, and later, Steadfast's deaths. She finds that in telling the story to Anita, it becomes a wild adventure in one of Sam's books. It becomes risky and dangerous and even funny in some parts. Casey also finds that Anita is an excellent audience. She listens with enthusiasm and adds in quips of her own at all the right parts and by the end of Casey's telling of the story, she and Anita both have tears of laughter standing in their eyes.
The stars peek in at the two occasionally through the patchy clouds, but mostly, the night air is cool and filled with the sounds of the woods and the warm crackling of the small fire. Casey and Anita fall asleep by the fire, their backs gently touching, with the surrounding orchestra of crickets, junebugs, and soft scuttling critters lulling them into Nod.

In Casey's dream, she is holding a gun to a banker's head. The gun is cocked, and she can feel the heavy, rough fabric of her bandana pulled snugly over her nose and cheeks. She watches a bead of sweat trickle down the side of the banker's face and hears a tremble in each breath he takes. Instinct holds her back from taking her eyes from the man she is holding a gun to. She's robbed too many places to know that taking your eyes off a hostageâ€"even for a second, shows that you are either distracted or afraid or both. Yet despite her hawk-like focus on the man, she knowsâ€" senses where she is. She is back at the bank in Dodge City.
She hears a voice growl from somewhere, and it takes her a long time to realize that she is the one speaking.
"If you take the money from that man, I'll shoot you."
The man underneath the cold barrel of her gun flinches.
"I…I swear. I didn'tâ€"won't take it from him."
Casey cuffs the man over the head with her gun. Not enough to knock him unconscious, but enough to draw a thin line of blood from the receding ends of his grey hair.
"Don't give me that shit. I saw you talking to him earlier today. In the saloon."
Who is he? What saloon?
These questions rattle empty around in Casey's mind but quickly fade out in an echo. She knows that she has a hostage and is trying to get something from him. …But what? Whatever it is, she knows it's important and so she presses on with her threats.
"Show me where the money is now, or you'll show it to me in about five minutes when you've lost several of your fingers and maybe have a bullet through a leg."
"ALRIGHT! I took the money from him but he told me it was a good deal!"
"What's he paying you to do?"
"Nnnottthing..."
Casey hits him over the head again and the man whimpers.
"I told you. I know horseshit when I see it. Tell me straight orâ€""
"I DON'T KNOW. He wants me to keep people out of the bank for a little while an' he says he's going to bring some people in for a…a business meeting but he doesn't want anyone else in here. He saysâ€""
The door to the bank flies open and makes a sharp cracking sound in it's frame. It smacks into a bench sending it jumping over a few inches.
Three men walk in dragging a womanâ€" Anita! Dad above, what's she doing here, behind them. She is cussing a blue streak a mile wide and kicking furiously at her captors but they continue to move into the bank, unflinching at her protests. One of the menâ€" Hadley, the damned bastard, throws her to the ground and kneels over her. He is trying to strangle her, but is struggling to keep his hold on her neck.
"NO! You DAMNED SONOFABITCH!" Casey throws herself over the teller's counter and springs at Hadley. She has him pinned and she draws her gun on him. She pulls the trigger, but an empty click is the only sound that emits from its cold iron frame. The hollow sound echoes around in Casey's head.
An oily grin spreads across Hadley's face and he pushes Casey off of him like she is nothing more than a small leaf that has found its way onto his shoulder. Hadley storms across the room and signals to the other men to help him carry Anita outside and put her on one of the horses.
"NO!"
Casey tries to get to her feet, but the floor is quicksand and seems to be dragging her limbs downwards into its empty, wooden bones. Hadley looks back at her, that same oily grin now stretched unnaturally across his face revealing a line of yellow wolf's fangs.
"How's it feel to watch it all happen again, Casey Long? Hmm?"
He watches Casey try to struggle to her feet again, and laughs when she flops back down again. Spit jumps from his mouth when he speaks and a distinct smell of burning curls into Casey's nostrils from somewhere.
"See you later, Miss Longabaugh." And to Casey's horror, he leaves the bank, pulling the door shut behind him. Casey lets out an animal-like cry and watches as Anita is taken away, down the side streets, past the empty corral where no Steadfast stands, and to the icy river where Waterton lies like a snake in wait.
Anita sleeps peacefully, unaware of the battle taking place in Casey's mind just a foot from her own warm, pleasant, meandering visions.