Dancing with the Devil

Chapter Two

Chapter Two

Ance rode alongside the wagon and ignored the sweat tricking between his shoulder blades. The sun overhead was hotter than he could ever remember it being this time of year. 

He was beginning to regret taking this job. A soft whore and a cool beer sounded much better just now than being on this horses back with eleven men who’d been in the sun too long all around him. Then he remembered that five hundred dollar payday awaiting him and decided that the whores and beer could wait. 

Barnaby rode up front on the wagon and the other men milled around, falling back and going ahead before swinging back around. Ance knew it would a good five days before they got where they were going and it was going to be a tense few days waiting for an arrow or a bullet to be sent into their backs. 

Ance pulled his horse to a stop beside a grove of small maples and poplars with a nice cool pool of water beside them. 

“What are you doing, Ance?” Barnaby called out. 

“Taking a break,” Ance replied. “My horse is thirsty.” 

Barnaby called a halt to all the men and everyone seemed thankful for the rest as they led their horses to the water and splashed their own faces and necks as the beasts drank their fill. 

Ance walked a fair distance away from everyone else and took a seat beneath a tree just beside the wagon. He pulled out a cigar and took a long slow draw as he enjoyed the quiet corner he had found. 

A scuffling sound came from the wagon. Ance frowned and glanced over his shoulder but didn’t see anything moving around. He shrugged it off, relaxed once again and pulled his hat low. 

He nearly jumped from his skin when the banging started. Ance got to his feet, put out his cigar and strode to the back of the wagon. He looked down at the crate as it moved slightly and that banging continued. Ance saw the lock so he pulled his gun and used it as a hammer to cause the clasp to break away. If there was a critter holed up in this heat then Ance was going to let it out. Ance didn’t like seeing critters mistreated. 

Ance was about to open the crate when Barnaby was suddenly beside him. The gray-bearded man put a hand on the lid and stopped Ance from lifting it up. “What are you doing, Ance?” Barnaby demanded, the good-humor normally in his voice a bit less than usual as anger edged in. “You owe me a lock.” 

“You can take it out of my pay,” Ance replied, crossing his thick arms over his broad chest. “You got a critter locked up in that cage?” 

Barnaby studied him for several long moments as if determining whether or not to trust him. The thudding had stopped and the crate had gone eerily quiet. Finally Barnaby grinned and took a step back, resting his hands on his large belly. “Go ahead and take a peak, my boy, at the critter that’s going to bring me a small fortune! The Indians pay top dollar for ones like this one!” 

Ance’s black brow quirked upward. What in the world would make the Indians pay hard stolen money for a critter? Ance was pretty sure the wilderness they lived in was crawling with them.