Saddle Dust

Chapter 8

The coach is a long time in coming. Anita sits on a downed tree near the side of the road fanning herself with her hat. Earlier, she had been on sharp watch for the Butterfield coach and had jumped at a small rodent which had darted across the road. Now she watches the clouds slowly drift by and wonders if there even was a coach to begin with. After all, it was just a random note that Casey found in the woman's purse.
She kicks her boots out and props her feet up on her heels, scratching at a mosquito bite on her arm as she does so. She drops her gaze from a particularly funny shaped cloud and glances down the road towards where Casey lies in wait.
She can't see her exactly, but she knows she's there all the same. Heat rises from the road in waves and grasshoppers jump across puddles, the largest of them making heavy thwacking sounds as their green and tan bodies collide with the damp surface of the road. She watches one land on its back and punch its long legs in the air for a few seconds before convulsing and righting itself again. For some reason, she finds this funny and stifles a small laugh. The clumsy little creatures bounce off of the road like popcorn, and chirrup merrily when they land again.
Anita remembers her father showing her a grasshopper when she was very little. He held her hand out flat and placed on in it, showing her how to hold it carefully without squashing its fragile legs. The insect had crawled around for a while, siphoning the sweat from her palms before doing a backflip off of her hand, into the air. She had watched with some concern as it dropped from what seemed like a tremendous height, but it had, of course, landed delicately on a blade of grass and begun to clean its antennae.
She looks down the road again, and thinks she hears the rattling of an approaching coach, but it is nothing. She goes over her story again in her head: first, she'll stagger out of the tree line feigning heat exhaustion. She'll slur her words together and look panicked. Then she'll collapse on the groundâ€" no, that wouldn't work. The coach might not stop and then it would crush her. She'll just freeze in the middle of the road and start trembling and trying to call for help. Yes, that was better. Then she'd just keep up the act and try to convince the driver to help her but by the time he'd stopped the horses it would already be too late.
Anita smiles to herself, picturing a confused look on the driver's face as he topples from the top of the coach, either knocked into next Tuesday, or dead.
About forty feet East, Casey sits hunched, buried deep in the bushes. She hasn't moved a muscle since taking her place knowing that she was the one who really needed to stay hidden. She knew that she was being ridiculous, starting them both out here so early and hiding herself more than was probably necessary in the forest, but she is humming with nervous energy and needs to focus it somehow.
Casey looks West up the road towards where she can just make out a flair of Anita's dark blue, almost black, dress sticking out into the road. Henry's words come racing back to her as if he is sending her a telegram all the way from San Dimas. If you let anything happen to her…
Casey squeezes her eyes shut, forcing the images of Anita lying dead in the road or hanging from a rope from her mind. "No." She half whispers, half growls to herself. She looks East down the road and, for a moment, is almost convinced that she can hear the rattle of a coach approaching. Her hand goes automatically for her guns hanging at her hips, but when no coach appears, she slowly relaxes the springs in her fingers which had been edging towards her weapons.
Casey checks the sky and measures out the sun with her fingers. It's still morning, but getting on to early afternoon. She shifts her legs to get in a more comfortable position, and settles in for the Long Wait.
The Long Wait isn't very long. Not twenty minutes after Casey has settled back again, she hears the rattle of a coach and this time, she knows it isn't her imagination. She hears twigs crack nearby and knows that Anita also hears it and is getting ready to perform.
Casey snugs her heavy bandanna up on her cheekbones and pulls her hat down low. She runs her hands lightly over her two revolvers, checking that her guns are secure. She wants to have her hands free for climbing the coach, but she doesn't want to have her revolvers be too cumbersome to draw should she need to.
Now the coach comes into view. It's moving at a good clip and for a moment, Casey wonders if it will be able to stop in time, but as she watches it she sees that Anita will have no trouble at all in getting the coach to stop. The horses are fresh, but aren't eager to be trotting away from their food and stables for what they know is going to be a long and exhausting journey to the next coach post still over thirty miles away.
The coach is getting closer now, and Casey catches the flutter of Anita's dress as she prepares to stumble out into the road. The coach is close, but Anita still hasn't left her place.
"C'mon, Anita. Get going! I'm right here. It's gonna pass us." Casey whispers to herself through clenched teeth. Just when Casey is about to jump out in front of the coach herself and shoot at the driver and horses, Anita does a very good impression of a one-legged flamingo into the middle of the road.
"Woah…WOAH!" The driver yanks back on the reins of the four horses and pulls the braking lever. Casey watches as the horses break form and look around wildly, unsure of where to go. The coach's wheels continue to travel along the road, and Casey looks away, afraid that she is about to watch Anita get trampled. Several seconds pass and no colliding sound nor whinnying of horses is heard. Casey looks and sees Anita standing unshaken in the middle of the roadâ€" well, Casey knows she is unshaken but the driver must think Anita is the furthest thing from cool and collected right at this moment.
Anita puts on a performance that is even better than the one on the train with Mrs. Harlson. Infact, it's so convincing Casey has to remind herself of their goal and has to drag her eyes away from Anita so she can scope out the back of the coach. Convinced that the coach isn't going anywhere for the next few minutes, Casey begins to slowly make her way to the back of the coach where there is a railing she can grab onto and pull herself up onto its roof. There's luggage and mail on top, but it doesn't look impossible.
Casey hears a loud chunking noise and looks down. The wheels are locked in place. That would mean that the driver wasn't going to stay in his seat which meant that…
I'm the biggest damned fool in this entire country…of course the driver wouldn't stay in his damned seat…he'll go down to see if he can help…holy shit…
Casey pulls away from the back of the coach and peers around its edge to try and scope out where the driver and Anita are.
The driver has just climbed down from his seat and is slowly approaching Anita who looks absolutely terrified. Casey sees that this terror is no act as Anita's gaze keeps switching from the approaching driver to the top of the coach and back again. Things are about to go very, very wrong. Holy damned…
Casey huffs and draws a revolver. She throws back her shoulders and storms around to the front of the coach, still keeping herself tucked in on one side and out of view of whoever might be inside. The driver's back is turned to her and he is about eight feet from Anita now. Casey sweeps around the front corner of the coach, and hugs the horses, blocking herself from Anita's view. She needs to keep it that way, at least for now. She continues to creep along the far side of the horses for as far as their large, foam-soaked bodies will allow. Then, she moves with inhuman speed. Her eyes remain steeled and her jaw clenched as she sneaks up behind Anita.
Anita sees the driver's eyes go wide and she is about to turn around to see what he is looking at when she feels something cold press against the side of her temple. She feels a rough, calloused and cut hand catch hold of her elbows and pin them together behind her back, the breath is forced from her lungs and she gasps, open-mouthed and wide-eyed for air. Her knees buckle beneath her, but the hand pinning her arms supports her completely.
She tries to gasp out her surprise, but her words are huffed and cut short by the air being forced from her lungs.
"Câ€"Casey…ss'att y-yyâ€""
A rough, low growl that Anita doesn't immediately recognize as Casey's voice emits from the figure holding a gun to her head.
"Shut the hell up you damned bitch." And then whispered so quietly Anita doesn't even register it: I'msosorry…
Anita feels her whole body go numb. Casey is the one who just spoke. Casey is the one holding her arms back so she can't breathe or barely stand. Casey is the one pressing a gun to her head hard enough for a dull headache to start to take root deep in Anita's skull. Her stomach lurches, and for one absurd moment, Anita thinks she is about to start laughing. Then, she feels a wave of nausea creep up her throat and sting her nose. Tears form in her eyes. The driver looks stunned.
"What in the hell…?"
Casey barks at the shocked man. "I'm only going to say this one damned time: Get every. Single. Last. Person aboard that coach off. NOW. Tell them that if they try anything, this woman here is going to get a bullet in her head and you can damn well put it on your own souls because I stopped giving a damn about the devil a long time ago. Now MOVE."
Anita tries to speak again, but a small whimper is all she can manage. Another whisper, barely heard: I'msosorrypleasejustholdon…
A woman bursts out of the coach. Her face is flushed and shining with sweat and tears. She stumbles a few feet forward and then stands, shocked, staring at Casey and Anita. A few seconds later, the woman's husband stumbles out after her, trying desperately to pull her back but too afraid to come any closer to the crazed woman with the gun. It's Mrs. Harlson and her husband. Dad above how much worse can this get…
Mrs. Harlson stands breathless for a few moments then, miraculously, pulls herself together and begins to slowly and gently talk to Casey.
"Ms. Long. I didn't expect to see you here. Would you mind if I have a few words with Ms. Romero?"
Mrs. Harlson takes a gingerly step forward.
"Do you want this young woman's blood on your hands?" Casey growls at her, baring her teeth behind her bandanna.
Anita lets out a choked half-sob.
"Casey, stop it…stopâ€""
Casey twists her arm, sending a bolt of pain shooting up Anita's arm and down her back. She cries out in pain. AnitaI'msosorryjustholdonI'msorryplease…
Mrs. Harlson holds up a gloved hand in an attempt to calm Casey. She looks like a woman of the elite class facing down a rabid wolf in a small cage in some horrid, dystopian nightmare. And to some extent, she is.
"Ms. Long, please. Don't hurt that young woman. Especially after all of the kind things she's done for you, taking you in and all. I know you're a reasonable person. How about we talk about this over tea like civilized people? If it's money you're after, I'm sure we can come up with an agreement of sorts. I could provide a sponsorship for you so you could go to a finishing school for ladies, just please let Ms. Romero go." And then, in a tone broken by a single sob, "You're hurting her. Stop it, please."
On the outside, Casey is a mass of fury and violence but on the inside she is calm, if not a little worried on how the holdup is going, but she finds she can't help but laugh a little at Mrs. Harlson's complete and total ignorance. Mrs. Harlson's words sting a little too, because Casey knows she's hurting Anita, but if she lets go now, someone will surely try to overtake her or run for help.
All Anita feels is the cold barrel of the gun pressing into her skull and the rough hands which only the day before had gently held her own but are now pinning her arms at an angle that sends pain sprinting from her shoulders to her fingertips. She presses her eyes closed, hoping that maybe she is stuck in another nightmare or it's someone else standing behind her, but when she opens them again, Casey is still twisting the gun into her head. Casey, what's wrong? Why are you doing this to me…
Casey's rough, commanding voice is back again. "Driver, tell these damned fools to line up on the side of the road with their hands on their heads, facing the coach and standing apart from each other. NOW."
The sweating driver turns to his former passengers, now turned hostages, and nervously tells them to do just that. The Harlsons, and another man Casey doesn't recognize, line up on the side of the road.
"You too, you dumb little shit."
The driver scurries to join the line.
"So far, I haven't needed to shoot this filthy bitch. Let's keep it that way."
Now Casey hisses through her bandanna, just loud enough for Anita to hear. "I'm going to let go of you now. Pretend to collapse or pass out or something. Trust me. Please."
Anita has to dig deep to find a small well of trust which she somehow still holds for Casey. She doesn't know what has just happened. She thinks that Casey (somehow) found a bottle of alcohol and has now completely and totally lost it, probably for good this time. She also thinks that there is a very good chance she could die today.
Finding that she has no choice, Anita collapses to the ground in a heap as soon as she feels Casey's grip loosen. She wouldn't have needed Casey to tell her to collapse to the ground as her legs are currently one notch above completely useless.
Casey storms up to the stranger traveling with the Harlsons and stands in front of him, staring him down for what seems like eternity. Then, she pulls down her bandana revealing a face Anita barely recognizes as Casey's. Her scar seems to protrude from her face in an angry blaze and her eyes could freeze an army dead in its place. Her jaw is working, and the veins in her neck stand out. She looks absolutely terrifying. Anita finds that she has stopped breathing and it looks like the man Casey is standing in front of could say the same.
"What's your name?" Casey speaks slowly and quietly which only adds to the man's fear.
The man swallows, and then replies: "Gâ€"George Martin."
"George Martin what?"
"George Martin, ma'am."
"That's Ms. Casey Longabaugh to you, you damned son of a bitch. You remember that name, now because I know your name, Mr. George Martin, and if I hear about anyone knowing about my whereabouts, I'm going to ask some friends of mine to go find a Mr. George Martin, and bring him to me so I can kill him properly. Understand?"
Mr. George Martin bobbles his head ridiculously in an attempt to save his life.
"Good." Casey barks. "Now I suggest you git the HELL out of range of my gun."
Mr. George Martin stumbles and trips over himself several times in his attempt to escape death. He manages to make it to the edge of the woods before Casey starts firing at him. Her shots miss except for one that must clip a leg or shoulder for he gives a yelp like a small dog that has been stepped on, and begins to scramble through the underbrush at an even more furious speed.
Mr. Harlson cries out, and is about to protest when Casey rounds on him.
"YOU, Harlson, are a real piece of work." Casey pistol whips him over the head, and he collapses to the ground, out cold. Next, Casey rounds on Mrs. Harlson whose face has gone not just white but practically transparent out of fear. She swallows and flinches at Casey's approach. She stands so she is no more than three inches from her face, and breathes her threat to her.
"I don't like you, Mrs. Harlson. You don't stay out of other people's business. That's a very, very dangerous quality to have. It's also dangerous to be on my bad side. Because of that, I'm going to make you stand here while I take this coach off of the driver's hands. I'll also remind you that I know just exactly who you are, you filthy piece of dog shit.
Finally, Casey stalks over to the driver who straightens himself and promptly stops breathing. Casey grins. Oh, how she has missed this.
"I am going to take this coach off of your hands now, although you probably already knew that. If you say anything about this to anyone, I will find you and I will kill you."
She slams the butt of her revolver across his face, breaking his nose with a single, sharp crack like a shotgun, and he collapses to the ground. Now, only Mrs. Harlson remains standing, and she is barely doing even that. Casey ignores her and walks over to Anita who lays huddled and trembling on the ground. Casey stoops down next to her. She reaches out a hand and places it gently on Anita's shoulder, talking to her quietly. Anita tries to flinch away from her, but Casey starts speaking quickly and quietly.
"Anita, I'm so, so sorry. I was a dumbass and didn't think about how the driver would climb down to meet you. I didn't mean to hurt you."
Anita answers in a trembling, numb voice.
"I…I remember you saying that you were going to become a very different person when we were robbing but I just didn't expect…"
"Me neither. But let's finish this before it all goes to waste."
Casey stands and helps Anita get shakily to her feet. Casey helps Anita into the driver's seat of the coach, and climbs up after her. She looks down at Mrs. Harlson, who stands there, gaping at them.
"Yâ€"you're working together?"
Casey's grin is malicious and triumphant.
"Oh yes, Mrs. Harlson. If only you knew just exactly what we've been up to this entire time."
Casey hands the reins to a still trembling Anita, and whistles for the horses. Their two ponies walk nervously out of the woods and begin to follow along behind the coach as Anita whips up the four coach horses.
Casey turns around and fires a revolver behind her at Mrs. Harlson's feet. Mrs. Harlson screams as if she had been hit and not just the dirt by her feet, and falls in a dead faint. Casey laughs and shakes her head and re-holsters her gun.
"Take a left up here. We'll take a different route up north aways to one of Chadwell's places."
Anita doesn't respond. She just nods numbly and whips the horses on faster with the reins. Her mouth is dry and her hands are still trembling a little. Casey takes this as her moment to explain her actions.
"I'm sorry, Anita, I really am. But the holdup was going south, and fast. I really didn't mean to hurt you."
"You did what you needed to. I didn't know what I was going to do if the driver fully approached me and started to have his doubts about everything. If you'dve told me partway through that you were about to press a gun to my head, then I wouldn'tve reacted as strongly as I did and we might not be sitting on top of a coach now. I thought you'd found whiskey or beer somehow and had lost it for good. I thought you were really going to shoot me."
Anita looks at Casey and sees that she is staring hard at her boots and her hands are folded tightly together. She looks as if she wants to crawl inside herself and just disappear. She doesn't speak, so Anita continues.
"We're robbing coaches, not selling flowers and we'd better act like it sometimes."
At this, Casey looks up and gives Anita a small, grateful smile. "Thank you. Really. And I am truly sorry for giving you a scare."
"C'mon. We both had fun."
"Yeah. I can't tell you how much I've missed this. Being on the run and all."
"Where'd you get the 'I'm holding a hostage' act anyways?"
Casey thinks this over, and then finds the memory.
"I suppose it was Sundance's. He and Laura used it once during a train robbery when I was still quite young. Laura was posing as my mother and I as her young daughter on the train and we pretended to be held hostage by Sundance and Butch. It actually worked quite well."
Anita just shakes her head. "I can't believe half the stuff you did with that gang."
"Ha! Me neither."
They ride most of the rest of the way in silence, their two horses trotting along loyally behind. The road is mostly quiet except for two riders they pass about thirty minutes out who give them suspicious but nervous glances and continue hastily on their way.
Before getting to the fence, Casey and Anita pull over in a sheltered but cleared shoulder on the road and inventory the coach. In total, they make out with a hundred dollars, a pocket watch, two necklaces, a nice set of fountain pens, and two boxes of tea cakes. They spend the rest of the ride working their way through both boxes.