Never did get a believable retelling on how he ended up with it, but given that his ego seemed to be just as bruised as his face, my guess is that it isn’t a story he wants told. And that he likely gave instructions saying as much.
“I’m not finishing your fights for you, Maddock,” I tell him in no uncertain terms. “And I’m sure as hell not starting them.”
“Of course not.” He holds up his hands in an attempt to placate me, though his tone remains unyielding. “However,shoulda situation arise, and as a condition of your ongoing employment, I will need to know that you can be trusted to do as I require to protect my interests. Is that understood?”
I squeeze my left leg against the mustang’s side, guiding him to turn.
“Stop,” Maddock immediately orders, stepping forward as if he intends to prevent me from leaving. “Where are you going?”
“To protect your interests,” I tell him, continuing on while looking back over my shoulder at him. “Don’t worry, if rustlers come for the cattle while you’re gone, I’ll let them know that any conclusions on how many they can steal will have to wait until you get back and decide.”
“Damn it, Aiden. You willstop,” Maddock calls after me, although his impending tantrum is blessedly interrupted when he is forced to step aside to avoid a man in a fine black coat and hat who is looking to get inside.
Place must be nice, I think, taking in the tall, well-tailored expanse of his disappearing back.Really nice.
“This opportunity will not come again. I’m offering you a potential windfall if you stay, a better quality of life. Better…lodgings,” Maddock tempts, apparently believing I’ve now taken an interest in the building. “You’ll get your cut of the earnings from the poker table. Same as the others.”
I roll my eyes, immediately thinking back to the rest of the crew disappearing inside a few minutes ago. Of course, they’ve all got rooms here. Don’t know better than to be spending money they don’t have yet. And likely still won’t after spending a whole week at the poker table. Awful hard to pay a hotel bill with empty pockets.
When I keep going, Maddock starts up again. “Fine. As part of our bargain, I’ll give you that horse, too,” he adds begrudgingly. “As a sign of myimmenseappreciation.”
That actually does make me pause. Not only because the mustang is one of his preferred chips to play in our ongoing arrangement, but also because my biggest obstacle to simply getting gone is my lack of means to do so. I’d spent most of what I had just making it to this job, which means my allowance for practicing free will is alarmingly slim until I get paid more than promises at the end of this drive. However, if the mustangweremine, my options for new employment would improve significantly, as would my ability to cut loose and run without serious repercussions.
Skipping out and taking a loss on a bad job is one thing. Being branded a horse thief is another. And I’ll be fuckin’ damned if I end up on a wanted poster.
“I get the horse regardless of your performance at the table. Win or lose,” I counter. “And I want it in writing.”
“If that will make you feel more at ease.” He smiles again, more believably this time since he’s close to getting what he wants. “I’lldraft it out on my personal stationary and give it to you tonight.”
Personal stationary. Christ. The things people find to spend money on.
I must be silent for too long, thinking about the pointlessness of expensive paper, because Maddock lets out a huff and shoves his hands in his pockets. “Do we have a deal then?”
I consider one more time if I’m making a mistake here, if I’m allowing myself to be too swayed by the sudden surge of possibility. Or even more foolish, by the spark of hope that the very luck I just said I don’t believe in might be about to change.
“All right, Maddock. We’ve got a deal.”
I leave the boss standing on the steps before he can add any additional stipulations, like requirements that I stay at the hotel, since not only the price but also the close quarters are far more than I am able to afford. Being stuck on the drive with this lot is bad enough.
Instead, I spend a few cents on a stall near the end of the aisle at the stable down the road, close to the back doors and big enough that I can comfortably set myself up in the corner with little fuss. The mustang doesn’t seem to mind sharing. At least, not right now when he’s got a full belly and a warm place to hunker down, and I can’t say I feel much different once I have a chance to sit on a nearby bench with another meal assembled from my saddle bags. I’d be all too content to linger here versus heading back out a few hours later had it not been obligatory.
At least, Ithinkit’s about that long.
I’m fiddling with my broken watch again when I walk into the saloon, pausing once I’m through the slatted, wooden doors toslip it back in my front vest pocket and to brush the worst of the dirt off my clothes. Something I probably should’ve done outside based on the amount of trail dust that billows from my coat and hat.
I hadn’t really bothered getting fancy. For one, I already cleaned up in the river this morning. For two, I’m already wearing one of my nicer dark red button-up shirts underneath my vest, along with my minimally-patched brown wool pants. It’s the extent of effort on my part that this outing warrants and, regardless of the occasion, I’m not about to go around looking like some stuck-up snob when I ain’t one.
“Aiden.” Maddock calls my name from a nearby table, raising his hand to beckon me over when I look in his direction, and I nod to show I’ve seen him so he won’t say it again before I head his way.
“You have our agreement?” I ask as soon as I reach the table, and it’s obvious he’s not pleased with me being so curt by how he takes a quick look around to see if any of his other men heard. Can’t be letting them get any ideas about the respect he’s due.
“After,” he mutters quietly before raising his volume and saying, “Glad to have you with us. Why don’t you take a seat?”
“Now,” I retort. “Or I’m gone.”
I get more than a little bit of enjoyment seeing his whole face turn a deeper shade of crimson in his anger, a sharp reply most definitely on the tip of his tongue before I’m spared by the sound of chair legs scraping against the wood floor as someone else prepares to take their place in the game.
“Good evening, gentlemen,” greets a smooth, low voice that would be enough to make me turn if I didn’t know better than to put my back to Maddock right now. “You know, I don’t think I’ve ever been so anxious for a game to begin.” There’s a smattering of laughs in response. “Nor so enthused by the players.”