And they paid no heed to that which was written.
I studied the ground in front of me, occasionally glancing up at the horizon. The sun danced and shimmered above the curvature of edge of the earth. The evening chill was beginning to set in. The posse was behind me; watching. The horses, just as nervous as the men, pawed at the ground with their hooves and shifted their weight from side to side. Two days now and they still weren't used to me. I made them uneasy. The riders glanced at one another, saying nothing, careful not to meet my gaze. Their silence hung in the air like a disease.
The ground was giving up no secrets here. The low lying scrub and hard pan jutted haphazardly in all directions like a crazed jigsaw puzzle. There was no way of knowing if they passed this way. Nothing. I thank God for that. Someone must be helping them.
The leader of the posse, an ex-crowfoot named Jim, thin and weasily-eyed stared through me. His patience was wearing thin. He'd kill me if he thought he had half a chance of getting away with it. From a distance, of course. Men like Jim always killed from a distance and usually when backs were turned. But he couldn't do nothing to me, and he was well aware of it. My immunity had been dearly paid for.
"Well?" he spoke up, still greasily eyeing me, thinking how much he could get for my skin back in Cheyenne. Probably would get laid too, if he could tell a good enough story about how he came to kill me. A bullet from a half-mile away wouldn't cut it with the ladies.
I looked up, sharp and quick. The horses shifted and hands dropped to holsters. I pointed to the setting sun. "That way. They went that way." Jim was studying me now. Trying to fathom whether I was telling the truth. I licked my lips. Jim leant forward hands on the pommel of his saddle. His dried lips parted. "You sure?"
I looked again at the ground which still refused me its secrets and looked up at the horizon. "Yes. That way. A group of five maybe. Their trail is well covered." I gestured sweepingly at the ground. "They may have help."
Jim leaned back in the saddle and spit on the ground. "Shit. I knew it. Help? Others like you?" I looked back at the ground. The question, others like me, caught me off guard. It was rich to think about. To be in the company of brothers. "Hard to tell." I replied. "Trails not perfectly covered, but they had little time. I reckon, it's possible."
My response made the posse nervous. Sensing their fear, I longed to rend them limb from limb. The pleasure that would bring. My eyes gleamed.
"How long ago?" he asked. "Two, maybe three hours." I replied. The hunt was on.
Posted by Pernicious at October 31, 2006 11:25 PM