When I wake up in the morning, there is a horse in the next stall. Coal-black coat and head tall enough to reach right over the wall separating his quarters from ours, which is exactly what he’s doing when I crack my eyes open to the sound of the mustang stomping his hoof in a clear sign of irritation. To his credit, he’s doing it at a safe enough distance from me that I don’t end up with a horseshoe imprint somewhere on my body. Although it doesn’t seem to be very effective, since his neighbor appears blissfully ignorant that he should entertain himself elsewhere.
I groan, sitting up on my bedroll before getting to my feet and stretching out after a nearly sleepless night spent on the hard ground. Far from comfortable, but seeing as how I’ve slept on and in worse, I can’t really complain.
“You might want to stay to your own,” I tell the new arrival, not wanting to seem like a turncoat by giving in to the urge to give him a pat on his great big nose. “At least until after breakfast. He’s not real friendly until then.” The mustang turns to lookat me, his ears pinned with agitation, and I tack on, “Or really after.”
The other horse whickers in my direction but remains where he is, so I decide to try and intervene in their oncoming dispute by getting a rope on the mustang and leading him away to a small pasture outside, one of only two that doesn’t currently have other horses. Here at least he will be able to graze in peace, or so I think until a young stablehand emerges a few minutes later.
“You have to put him there?” I ask as he leads the newcomer into the other pen right next to us, my tone coming out more annoyed than the situation probably warrants, but that damn horse is starting to remind me of the man I met last night. Even if I can’t imagine anyone so dramatic as to dress head to toe in blackandto ride an all-black horse as if they were one of the four horsemen come to Soldana.
“Sorry?” the boy asks me, understandably confused by my question, and God, unlike Maddock’s tagalong, this one reallyisa kid. No more than ten years old, and I wonder if he’s got kin nearby to look after him. “Mister, I’ve been given specific instructions to—”
“Never mind,” I mutter, waving him off with the hope that the horse will have far more pressing things to occupy his time than provoking my—themustang once he’s free to roam. Plus, there’s other horses on his side of the pasture, so surely…
As soon as the stablehand slips the pricey-looking halter off his nose, the determined pest ambles right up to the adjoining fence and calls over to us as if we’re good friends meeting up on a Sunday outing.
“Guess we’ve both got problems to deal with today,” I tell the mustang, who appears as bewildered by this behavior as I am, opting to try to follow me back out of the pasture rather than to stay and make conversation.
“Try not to kill him,” I suggest, giving the horse a consolatory pat after closing the gate on him. Before I go, I wrap his lead rope several times around the adjoining fence post, tying it off in a secure, tight knot. “I’ll try to do the same.”
After debating most of the morning, I start with the shops. In part because they’re the only places I can think to look besides the saloon, which is closed to me at this particular hour, and the hotel, which is closed to me at every hour.
The shops are also simply the most logical place for someone to go if they have something they are anxious to get rid of for a quick payout. Not that the watch will fetch him much in its current state. Still, the fact remains that itismine, that he lifted it fromme, and that I amreallyticked off about it.
No one has gotten the upper hand on me like that in a long time, and it pisses me off all the more that it’s my own damn fault. I’m the one who charged out there with some half-cocked plan to confront him. With no evidence, as he was so kind to point out, right before he gave me some by robbing me. It’s fucking infuriating. Knowing he’s out there.Grinningbecause I let him make a fool of me and walk away free.
I want—no, Ineedanother shot at him. And tracking Cypressdown now is probably the only one I’ll get.
Cypress.Odd name for an odd sort, but I have to hand it to him, the name is as hard to forget as he is. The entirety of our interaction kept me up tossing and turning until the early hours of the morning wonderingwhyI’d done what I’d done, as well as why he’d been so unafraid despite thinking he knows who I am…
To be frank, none of it makes any sense to me, including why I think I have a chance of finding him. Parting words aside, he’d have to be crazy not to have taken stock of things during our conversation, to realize he’d been caught regardless of if I had proof, and to skip town as soon as he turned the corner.
In all likelihood, he only took the watch to try to prevent the night from being a total loss. He has to already be gone…
A bell jingles merrily overhead as I push through the doors anyway to the small jeweler located not far from the hotel. The third establishment I’ve visited this morning since the general store and the haberdashery both came up empty. As soon as I cross the threshold, I’m greeted by a young woman with her long dark hair swept up into a bun at her nape and her light yellow dress buttoned all the way to her chin, which, I think, is the fashion these days.
“Welcome in,” she says warmly, and even in my current mood, I’d have to be dead not to notice she’s pretty. Even has freckles on her nose. Always have had a weak spot for freckles. “Can I help you find something?”
Preparing to answer her, I clear my throat as I step up to the counter, temporarily distracted by wondering how long it’s even been since someone caught my gaze. Although, when a sharp jawline and a pair of blue eyes promptly spring unbidden to mind, I immediately scowl and push them right back out, muttering, “Absolutely fucking not.”
“Excuse me?” the woman asks, drawing herself up with an aggravated frown, understandably thinking I was talking to her.“I assure you, I can help just as adequately as any of my counterparts. Why, only this morning—”
I hold up my hand. “No, miss, I—I’m sorry, I was thinking of somethin’ and…” I trail off with an exasperated sigh.What is wrong with me?Has to be that I’m back in town. Always makes me jumpy. And apparently…an idiot.
“Wasn’t meant for you. I’m sorry,” I say again. “I would be grateful if you could help me. I’ve been looking for someone or, I guess, something.”
She eases the severity in her expression a bit but the remaining purse to her lips tells me I’m not completely forgiven. “A gift, perhaps?”
“A gift?” I repeat, as if the concept is foreign to me.
She takes a deep breath, clearly praying for patience. “Maybe for someone special?”
I start to laugh, but then realize that isn’t going to make her less irritated with me. “No, I—” My eyes dart to her bare left hand to confirm my earlier assumption before I put my foot in my mouth again. “Miss, I’m actually after a watch.”
“I see.” Her eyes brighten, the hint of a smile on her mouth now. “That is a popular request today.”
“That so?” A rare burst of cautious optimism makes my eyebrows rise beneath my hat, reminding me that I’m still rudely wearing one before I quickly take it off. “Did someone come in and sell one?”
Just as quickly, my hope dims as her expression shifts back to a frown, her forehead scrunching. “No, afraid not. There was a man in tobuyone, though. The most expensive we had in stock.” She’s suddenly teeming with excitement again. “Agorgeouspiece.”