Casie was shown to the bed, where she had been tied. She touched the wolf-pelt. It was soft, and warm. She sat on the bed, and looked through the tent opening. The three men were standing there, looking in the tent.
She got up, and closed the tent flap. "Perverts!" She said, loud enough for them to hear.
She laid down on the bed. This is risky, she thought, but she was exhausted. She couldn't remember the last time she had slept in a real bed. Let alone gone to bed, with a full belly. She smelt her clothes. She still smelt of Goat shit, she thought. But she'd smelt worse than that in the last 6 months, so she laid down, and was asleep in a matter of minutes.
Outside the tent, Arthur Morgan sat around the table, with Dutch Van Der Linde, and Hosea Matthews. They all exchanged looks on hearing her last comment, from inside the tent.
Arthur shook his head, "she sure is a piece of work, that one."
Dutch laughed, "she ain't a great deal different than you were at that age, as I recall."
Arthur frowned. "I sure as hell didn't go around biting peoples legs, and kicking people in the balls." He chuckled. "Was worth getting bitten, just to see Micah's face when he got kicked, he sure as hell wasn't expecting that."
Hosea glanced at the tent. "Poor kid, reckon she's had a rough ride. But she's one tough cookie."
Arthur looked at Dutch. "You don't reckon her dad was an O'Driscoll do ya? She said he was an outlaw."
Dutch glanced at the tent. "I doubt it, sounds like her father was on his own, just trying to keep his kid fed. Colm O'Driscoll was never one to let kids tag along." He said.
"And we are?" Asked Arthur.
Dutch looked at him. "You know what I always say, we shoot those as need shooting, save those as need saving, and feed 'em as need feeding. If you ask me that kid needs saving, and feeding. The question is, does she want to be saved?"
Hosea looked at Dutch, "I've a feeling the answer to that is no."
Casie woke with a start. Remembering the events of the previous day, she ran her fingers across her cheek. Yep, she was definitely going to have a shiner. She still had some blood crusts on her nose, which she rubbed off, with her sleeve.
She was still convinced they were the law. Well, they wouldn't say if they were. They were probably bounty hunters, or something. What an idiot she'd been, letting slip her, and her Pa were outlaws. The bastard sheriff in Valentine may hate her, but she was pretty sure that there was a bounty on her, and her Pa's head in West Elizabeth. After they stole those horses in Strawberry, a couple of months ago. That's a point she thought, didn't matter if they were outlaws, or law-men, they would still have horses. She could steal a horse, and be away before anyone caught her. Would serve 'em right, the perverts, for tieing her up, and then peering in the tent, when they thought she would be sleeping. She should count her lucky stars, she didn't get molested in the night.
If she stole a horse, she could sell it to pay for a new revolver, since these arse-wipes had probably nicked her Pa's gun. That's the thing she was most annoyed about, losing her Pa's gun. Its the only thing of his she had. Well apart from the ring on the chain around her neck. That had belonged to her Ma, but as her Pa had given it, in the first place, she figured it was kind of like having something of his.
Casie quietly crept to the tent flap, and opened it, to peek out. The sun was only just rising, it looked pretty quiet. She crept across the camp, to where the horses were hitched. Being careful not to spook 'em. She looked down the path, she couldn't see a guard. It was now, or never. She looked at all the horses. That white one was nice, it would fetch a good price, even if it had no papers, she reckoned she might be able to get twenty dollars for it. That would get her a gun, some bullets, and probably a hot meal.
She crept over to it, and stroked its neck. She had one last check, coast was clear. She unhitched it, jumped on its back, and kicked it on. It went quickly, from a halt to a gallop. This was a fine horse, she thought. The horse hadn't gone more than about twenty yards, when she heard a shrill whistle. The horse immediately reared up, and turned, sending her flying, as she landed on her back with a thud.
She lay there for only a second, "Crap," she hissed, under her breath. Casie scuttled to her feet, but not fast enough, as she heard the whoosh of a lasso. Then it tightened round her, sending her flying back to floor, with another thud. Without a moment to think, she was already being tied up. "Fuck off, you mother fucking cow-son-of-a-bitch!" she screamed. "Fucking perverts, let me go!"
Arthur picked her up, and held her by the arms. She turned her head, and tried to bite his arm. Not fast enough, as he quickly moved his other arm, around her neck, to put her in a headlock.
"Let me go, you cock sucking pervert!" she screamed, and tried to kick him.
He carried her back to the tent, in the centre of the compound. Dutch Van Der Linde, walked out of the tent, and stood in front of her, with his arms folded.
"So you thought you would steal my horse, that's a mighty fine way to reward our hospitality isn't it?" He chided.
"Let me go, you mother fucking son of a whore!" She screamed.
The man, who she had kicked in the balls the previous day, walked up, "I like her," he said, "she's got spunk." Arthur glared at Micah, not releasing his grip, on the squirming girl, "shut up, Micah." He growled. "You're not helping!"
Dutch laughed, "now then boys, lets not encourage her."
"Arthur," he said, "let her go, I'm not sure I can stand much more of the foul language, coming from her mouth."
Arthur threw her on the floor, releasing the ropes as he did. As she landed, Dutch put his foot on her arm, applying just enough pressure, to stop her from getting up.
Casie turned to look at him, with rage in her eyes. "Get off my arm you..."
He glared down at her, "don't you dare let another cuss word, come out of your mouth," he growled. "Least of all directed at me." He pressed a little harder, with his foot.
"Get off, you're hurting me!" She screamed.
"Yes I am," he replied calmly. "And I will, until you start behaving like a human being, and less like a feral cat!"
Casie lay on the floor, still raging, trying to calm her rage. She knew this law-man, wouldn't let her up, until she did.
Dutch released some of the pressure, and offered her a hand. "Don't even think about biting me either," he said, softening his look just slightly. She took the offer of his hand, and he released his foot. Once she was on her feet, she snatched her hand away.
She straightened her clothes, and glared at him.
"I want my Pa's gun, then I'll go."
Dutch looked at the girl, Micah was right, she had a helluva lot of spunk. But, he thought, that may well be her undoing.
He walked back into his tent, and came out with the gun. He doubted that it would fire.
Dutch handed Casie the gun, she took it, and shoved it in her trousers.
"Here, take this," he offered her a ten dollar bill.
She gave him a filthy look. "Keep ya money, Law-man, I ain't no charity case," she said, and walked down the track, out of the camp.
Arthur looked at Dutch, and shook his head, "that kid is gonna come to a sticky end, if she ain't careful," he said.
Dutch looked, as the small form disappeared out of view.
"Not if I have anything to do with it." He said.
Dutch asked Hosea, if he would head into town, to see if he could find out any more information on the kid. So after a short while, he headed into Valentine.
He made a few discreet enquiries, and returned back to to camp.
"Well that was an interesting conversation," he said to Dutch, as he sat down.
"She was right about the Sheriff," he added, "he really doesn't like her."
Dutch looked at Hosea, "what did you find out?" He asked.
Hosea began, "her fathers name, was Jessie Mallard. Name didn't ring any bells with me. He was hung, as a horse thief."
Dutch laughed, "figures, she just tried to steal The Count."
Hosea raised his eyebrow, "I bet that didn't end well."
"At least we know she has a good eye for horses," he laughed. "Go on then, what else?"
Hosea continued, "she's 12 years old..."
"Only 12!" Exclaimed Dutch, "where the hell did she learn the language that came out of her mouth this morning?"
Hosea raised his eyebrows, "anyway, they couldn't pin the horse theft on her as well, so much to the sheriffs annoyance, she walked. Couple of days after her father hanged, she was picked up, trying to steal food from the general store. Chucked her in jail for a couple of days, gave her a good beating, then kicked her out. Which is when she tried rob us."
"Well after it all kicked off here this morning, she asked for her fathers gun. I offered her ten dollars, which she refused, and she marched off." Dutch said.
He continued, "she's got a gun, that probably wont fire, and no money. I'd wager, give it a couple of days, and she'll end up back in Valentine jail. I'll have the boys keep an eye open in Valentine, just in case."
Dutch's prediction wasn't far off. Three days after she walked out of the camp, Micah and Javier were in Valentine, in the Saloon, when they heard it kick off in the street.
The store owner grabbed Casie, and chucked her out the door. "Get out of here you little thief," he yelled. Unluckily for Casie, the sheriff was standing right outside.
Sheriff Curtis Malloy glared at her, "you again."
"I ain't done nothing wrong, I got money," she screamed.
"No Doubt," he yelled, "but I can guarantee you stole it off someone else!"
Casie tried to run, but the sheriff, landed a boot in her ribs. The kick lifted her enough in the air, for her to land on her back with a thud. She lay there gasping for breath, for what seem like an eternity, as her chest felt like it had burst into flames. "Leave me alone, you son-of-a-bitch." She groaned.
The sheriff, grabbed her by the shirt collar, and lifted her, so that her feet were about a foot of the ground. He hit her, three times in the face, with his fist.
"You're coming with me, you little shit," he growled.
He dumped her back on the ground, face down, blood from her nose, mingling with the mud. He grabbed her wrists, as he tied them together.
"I warned you." He said. The deputy gave her another kick in the ribs, for good measure.
She heard a crack, as her rib snapped. This time the pain was too much, and for Casie, the whole world went black.
Micah, and Javier watched the scene unfold.
Javier looked at Micah, "ouch, that was a bit harsh."
Micah felt a bit sorry for the kid, he'd been in similar situations himself, but not when he was twelve.
Javier, looked at Micah. "You gonna go tell Dutch," he asked.
Micah laughed. "Gonna handle this one myself, that kid reminds me of me, so Uncle Micah is gonna retrieve his niece!"
The sheriff dragged the unconscious Casie to the jail house, and chucked her in a cell.
He sat down in his chair, and looked at the kid. This time, he thought, she's gonna hang.
Casie was cold, then she realised, she wasn't cold, it was the stone floor of the jail cell that was cold. Apart from her chest, that felt like it was on fire. She wondered if this was what hell felt like.
For the first time in ages Casie just wanted to cry. Everywhere hurt, she daren't move, her chest hurt something fierce, and her face was throbbing. All she could taste was the blood in the back of her mouth. For the first time in her life, Casie was scared, but like her Pa always told her, never show 'em your scared even though you are.
When she watched him hang, he just smiled at her, even though, she thought, he must have been scared. That was until his tongue lolled out his mouth, and his eyeballs nearly popped out their sockets.
The pain took hold again, her vision blurred, and everything went black.
Micah walked into the jail house, and bent over the sheriffs desk.
"I'm here for the kid." He scowled.
The sheriff didn't look up. "Kids not going anywhere, except to the end of a hangman's rope," he sneered.
Micah sighed. "Don't know what I'm gonna tell her family then."
This grabbed the sheriffs attention "Family?"
"Yeah," Micah sighed, "father ran off with the kid a few years ago, been looking for her ever since, heard he'd been hanged, so guessed here was a good place to look."
The sheriff glanced over at the kid, laying on the floor in the cell.
He looked back at Micah. "Twenty Dollars, and you can take her off my hands."
Micah reached into his pocket, and chucked the money on the desk. The sheriff tossed him the keys.
"Go on," he grunted, "before I change my mind."
Micah walked out the jail house, carrying the kid. Javier had already bought the horses over, just in case they needed to beat a hasty retreat.
Micah laid the kid over the front of his saddle.
Javier looked at the kid, "is she alive?" he asked, slightly concerned.
"Only just," Micah replied, "lets get her back to Dutch."
It didn't take long to reach the camp at a flat out gallop.
Micah figured that Dutch wouldn't be best pleased, if he handed over a dead kid. If she was gonna die, it was best that she did it on someone elses watch.
He picked the kid, off of his horse, and walked over to Dutch's tent.
Here ya go Dutch," he snorted. "Present for ya."
"Micah" he exclaimed "What the hell..."
"Bought her off the sheriff for twenty dollars, she's pretty beat up." He said.
Micah wasn't wrong.
Dutch beckoned to Micah, to take her to the tent, where she had slept a few nights before.
"Miss Grimshaw," he called, "can you look after her please."
Susan Grimshaw took one look, and shook her head.
"Mr Bell," she said, "please put her on the bed, I'll take it from here."