Dancing with the Devil

Chapter Six

Chapter Six

"Why don't you sing us another song?" Ance asked as he and Penelope rode along in silence under the noonday sun. 

"But you said you wanted quiet time," Penelope reminded him, her voice innocent and light. 

Ance sighed. "Well, I changed my damn mind," he grumbled. "I'd like to hear another song." 

"Alright then," Penelope laughed lightly and then filled the air with a song about puppies, butterflies, sunshine and rainbows. It was a bit happy-go-lucky for Ance's tastes but it beat riding along in silence.... The fact that riding in silence is what he had lived for just a few short days ago never entered his mind. 

Suddenly Penelope's voice fell silent and Ance felt her tug his sleeve. "What's that?" she asked as she pointed across the grassy plains. 

Ance frowned and followed her gaze. He squinted and then grumbled under his breath. "Damn that ignorant Irishman..." 

"Don't say bad words," Penelope scolded. "And are those men going to kill him?" she shrunk into him as she spoke and Ance found himself patting her head in an effort to comfort her. 

"Naw, I reckon I won't let them do that. Wouldn't be very good of me since he is an acquaintance of sorts." 

Ance slid from the saddle and pulled Penelope down as well. He sat her down in the long grass beside a rock. "Stay here," he ordered as he hopped back on his mare. "Don't move until I call for you and don't make a sound." 

"Are you going to be okay?" she asked, her brown eyes shining with fear and worry. 

Ance was struck with a foreign emotion at the sight of someone else sharing genuine concern over his welfare. He couldn't remember having had that in longer than he dared to figure out. Penelope was far too kind for her own good... the world did bad things to kind people. It took a big bite of them, chewed them up and then spit them right back out. 

"I reckon," he grunted and then rode away toward Irish and the three men who were fixing to hang him from a large maple. 

Irish was sitting on a horse's back with a blind fold over his eyes and his hands tied behind him. A rope was pulled fairly tight around his neck and tied to the branch above. That Irish bastard was always finding ways to get himself into trouble. 

Ance knew the moment the men became aware or him. They turned away from Irish and tensed. One of the men was holding a rifle and the other two had their hands hovering over the revolvers on their sides. 

"Stop right there, mister," the man with the rifle warned. "Just who the hell are you?" 

Ance didn't say a word and he didn't stop. He continued at a slow and steady place with his hands loosely gripping the reins. 

"Now hold it right there, mister!" the man with the rifle exclaimed as he raised that rifle up and aimed it toward Ance. "I said to stop." 

Ance stopped. He reached in his chest pocket and pulled out a cigar and matches. All three men shifted and shared uneasy glances with one another. Ance took his time in lighting his cigar and taking a long draw. 

He let it hang off his lip as he tilted his head. "What exactly are you men doin' out here today?" 

It was clear that Irish recognized his voice because the man sat up perfectly straight at the sound of it and a smile curved his lips. This was exactly the reason why Ance didn't have friends and Irish was pushing him damn close to deciding that he no longer wanted acquaintances either.