All I Need Is You (9 page)

T
he next town along the route wasn’t really a town, though someday it might reach that distinction. Right now it was just several extra businesses that had moved in around the train depot: a saloon that also housed a restaurant, a general store, a bakery, a telegraph office, and what passed for a hotel, despite its having only two rooms.

Considering the late hour when they arrived, Casey sent Damian to the hotel to get them rooms for the night; she went to the train depot to report the robbery and the missing tracks. When she joined him in front of the hotel, it was with bad news.

“The next train isn’t due for about a week,” she told him without preamble, “which is about how long the fella at the depot reckons it will take to fix those missing tracks for the southbound train to get through.”

Damian sighed. “I don’t suppose there are any stages that run through here?”

“None, and it gets worse,” she warned him.
“There isn’t a stable in this settlement, either, to buy you a horse from, and the nearest ranch that might have extra mounts for sale is a good day’s ride from here. But it’s not guaranteed to have any extra stock available, so could be a pure waste of time riding out there.”

Damian gave the buildings around them a sad glance. “So we’re stuck here for the next week?”

“Unless you want to continue doubled up on Old Sam. I might not mind, but he’s sure to start complaining pretty soon about the extra load.”

Damian almost smiled, but not quite. “I have bad news as well. There was only one room to be had in the hotel, so we’ll have to share it.”

Casey stiffened. Share a
bedroom
with him for an entire week? One night she might manage, but a whole week, not damn likely.

“We’ll find you a horse,” she said in a tone that brooked no opposition, and in fact, she was eyeing several horses across the street in front of the saloon as she said it.

He followed her gaze. “Stealing is out of the question,” he thought it prudent to mention.

Casey snorted, but said no more, already heading across the street. Damian followed the kid with not much enthusiasm. There was no bank in this little settlement either, or he would have no difficulty in meeting the price, whatever it was, to acquire a horse. He still might be able to meet it with the cash he had on hand, but the lack of mounts available in the area made it doubtful someone would be willing to part with his for any price.

Not that Damian wanted to continue on this journey on horseback. Riding doubled up be
hind Casey was one thing, since he wasn’t actually controlling Old Sam. Riding his own mount would be something entirely different, and he’d just as soon not add that to his learning experiences on this hellish trip.

The saloon was the first Western tavern Damian had entered, and if it was typical of its kind, it would be the last. It wasn’t large and certainly wasn’t crowded, but the smell of sour ale and whiskey, as well as smoke and vomit, permeated the air.

Sawdust constituted the floor. Three round tables, scarred and filthy, allowed for sitting. Only one was occupied. There was a separate room with a sign over the open door that read, “Not the best chow, but all you’ll find hereabouts.” Only two tables were inside, obviously, because they didn’t expect many customers.

Casey was standing at the long bar and looking right at home, as if he were in the habit of frequenting such places. Damian shook his head. There ought to be a law out here about serving children hard spirits.

The kid had already ordered a drink and had it in hand when he turned to survey the one occupied table. Three men were sitting there enjoying a game of cards; money near their elbows suggested they were gambling. They had eyed the kid, but quickly dismissed him. Damian they stared at a bit longer when he entered and moved over to join Casey.

Staring at the three men, Casey asked, “Who owns the pinto out front?”

A young man with a thick untrimmed beard
answered, “Reckon that would be me, ’less there’s more’n one.”

“You a gambling man?”

“When the mood strikes me,” he said and looked down at the cards in his hand with a chuckle. “And I guess it’s done struck me.”

“I’m in need of an extra mount,” Casey told him. “How about a little wager that bets yours against mine?”

Hearing that, Damian hissed at Casey, “What the hell are you doing?”

“Getting you a horse, so just go along with this, will you?” Casey whispered back.

The man was asking, “And where’s yers?”

“Across the street in front of the hotel. Take a look. You’ll never see finer.”

The fellow got up to do just that and, standing in front of the swinging entrance doors, gave a soft whistle. “Now
that’s
some horse.” He turned back to Casey, definitely interested. “What’s the bet?”

“The tenderfoot here is going to drop a coin in front of himself. I’m betting I can shoot it out from between his legs before it hits the floor—making sure I don’t hit nothing of his, of course.”

There were some chuckles, but only because Damian was beet red—whether in embarrassment or anger, it was hard to say. But the bearded fellow scoffed, “I’ve seen that trick before. It ain’t so hard.”

“Did I mention I’d be drawing to make the shot?” Casey added.

The fellow raised a bushy brow. “Drawing, huh? But still, them are long legs he’s got, with
a lotta leeway. If you miss, you just lose a horse.”

“You think that isn’t enough consequence?”

Obviously not, because he said, “How ’bout shooting it out of his hand instead—from the draw?”

Damian stiffened. Casey whispered aside to him, “Well, I guess some sore fingers is a small price to pay for getting us on our way.”

“As long as it’s sore fingers and not bloody fingers,” he grouched.

The kid grinned at him. “I’d say make sure it’s not your gun hand that you use, just to be safe, but you don’t have a gun hand, so it don’t rightly matter, does it?”

He did
not
appreciate Casey’s humor, but he wasn’t really all that worried. He’d seen what the kid could do with a gun. However, he did start to worry when a dime was tossed to Casey with the order, “Use that un,” and Casey eyed the thing as if he couldn’t see it very clearly, which brought on more laughter from the saloon patrons.

But Casey did relieve his mind immensely when he handed over the coin with the whisper “Relax, tenderfoot. I’ve done this more times than I can count.”

He turned to move down to the end of the bar before he said to the others in the room, “Ten feet distant okay with you fellas—seeing as how there isn’t that much more room in here to spread out?”

“Ten feet’s fine—just get to it,” the gambler said with a grin. “I’m eager for a ride on my new horse.”

Casey nodded and lifted his poncho out of the way, waiting for Damian to hold the coin out. Damian couldn’t believe he was actually going to let this demonstration of marksmanship continue when it was
his
hand that was going to suffer for it if anything went wrong. But Casey’s confidence was reassuring. The kid knew he wouldn’t miss.

And then he fired and missed. The coin was still held between Damian’s thumb and forefinger. And Casey…Damian had never seen such a look of complete devastation on anyone before.

He’d gambled and lost his horse, and he hadn’t expected that to be the end result here. While the bearded fellow was being congratulated by his friends, Casey actually ran from the saloon in embarrassment. Damian wasn’t sure, but it had looked like there were tears in those golden eyes.

“Here, now, he’s not going to take off on my new horse, is he?” the winner demanded.

“I seriously doubt that,” Damian replied, staring at the swinging doors. “He’s honorable—if not quite the marksman he thought he was.”

D
amian didn’t follow immediately after his young friend. If the kid
had
been crying like he suspected, he’d probably prefer that no one was around to witness it. So Damian had a few drinks of the appalling spirits the saloon sold, then headed to the hotel.

Casey’s upset could have been avoided entirely, but as usual, he had dismissed Damian as a means of assistance, wanting to handle the matter all on his own—just like he’d done on the train.

On the train, Casey had assumed that Damian hadn’t done any damage shooting out of the window, when he had in fact wounded each one of the train robbers as they rode away. If they didn’t have a doctor as a member of their gang, they’d draw quite a bit of attention if they went to one in a town. If nothing else, they’d be slowed down, giving the law a chance to quickly apprehend them.

At the hotel, he found Casey standing in front of the window in the tiny room they would be
sharing, no doubt staring down at Old Sam in the street and still brooding over his loss. Damian could say something about overconfidence leading to ruin, but he decided not to. The kid probably felt bad enough as it was.

Casey hadn’t heard him enter. Damian had to clear his throat to draw the boy’s attention so he could tell him, “You can stop moping. I managed to—”

He didn’t get to finish, since the kid swung around and blasted him. “Why did you let me do it?!
Why?
Old Sam has been with me since I was twelve. I raised him from a colt. He’s like family!”

Damian was struck completely speechless for a moment. That much emotion from a boy who usually kept all emotion firmly under control was a bit overwhelming. Damian’s defenses were quick to rise because of it.

“Now just a damn minute,” he said. “You can hardly blame me—”

“Can’t I?”

“No, you can’t. I wasn’t the one who suggested gambling your horse away, Casey. In fact, if you’ll recall, I wasn’t too pleased about what you started in that saloon and said so at the time.”

Damian tried to keep a curb on his own anger, not easy with so much undeserved heated emotion coming his way. He’d had a feeling that Old Sam meant more to the kid than just a means of transportation. He’d been right, obviously, or Casey wouldn’t still be this upset.

But keeping his own anger under control only seemed to intensify Casey’s, because he ignored
Damian’s reasonable reply and shouted, “It wouldn’t have happened if I wasn’t here, and I wouldn’t be here if—”

Damian cut in with the reminder “You didn’t have to take the job.”

“Good, because I quit!”

Damian wasn’t expecting that. He’d figured the kid would have a bit more honor than to renege on a deal because of a setback or two.

He shook his head, saying in disgust, “I’ve seen some temper tantrums in my day, brat, but you’re about to win a prize for the worst.”

“How dare—!”

“Oh, shut up, Casey. If you hadn’t jumped down my throat the minute I walked in, I would have told you that I managed to get your horse back for you.”

Casey’s expression of surprise was almost comical. “You did?”

But then he blanched as it dawned on him what he’d just said. He took a step back, dangerously close to the open window, as if he’d been punched backward. And the wail he made was pathetic.

“Oh, God, I’m sorry,” he groaned.

“Too late—”

“No, I am
really
sorry, Damian. If you’ll let me explain…I wasn’t really angry at you, I was furious with myself. I don’t tolerate stupidity much, and what I did in that saloon was really stupid.”

Damian couldn’t have agreed more. “I agree, you never should have made that bet—”

“I don’t mean that,” Casey interrupted. “The bet was a good one.”

Damian frowned. “Then what the hell are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about aiming for the edge of the coin, because it was so small. And when it came down to it, I didn’t want to take the chance of singeing your fingers.”

Damian blinked. “Are you saying you missed the coin on purpose?”

“No.” Casey shook his head. “I just didn’t center my aim on it as I should have. Allowing a quarter inch of room was a mite too little.”

Damian almost laughed at that point. The kid figured trying to keep Damian from getting hurt was stupid, and he considered
that
an apology? Then again, if he hadn’t tried, he wouldn’t have lost his horse, and chances were, Damian wouldn’t have been hurt anyway. So he supposed he was ultimately to blame, after all.

“And I didn’t mean that about quitting either,” Casey added sheepishly with another blush. “I would have told you so, soon as I’d—well, soon as I’d started thinking clearly again, which I surely wasn’t doing a few minutes ago. I’ll see the job done, whatever it takes—that is, if you still want me to.”

Damian deliberately let several long moments pass before he nodded. “I think we would both do well to just forget we had this little—discussion.”

Casey grinned, obviously relieved. “Not a bad idea, except, well, you forgot to mention how you managed to get Old Sam back.”

“With money, of course. It does have its uses on occasion, and this occasion includes the pinto.”

“You actually got his horse, too?” Casey said in surprise. “Well, hot damn, Damian, you’re quite the horse-trader, aren’t you?”

“Hardly,” Damian admitted. “In this case, it seems the fellow isn’t planning on going anywhere any time soon. He’s apparently courting the baker’s daughter. But he likes to gamble, and a run of bad luck had put him quite short of funds. Not that he was reasonable on an agreeable price for the two animals. He actually wouldn’t settle for anything less than all the cash I had on me.”

“Which was?”

“Not everything.” Damian grinned. “Just what I had in my pockets, which was about three hundred, but at least
he
thought that was all I had.”

Casey chuckled. “Damned cheap, actually.”

“You’re kidding? You mean horses actually cost more than that around here?”

“No, just high-steppers like my Old Sam. Besides, when there is demand but not enough supply, you’d be amazed at how steep some things can sell for. That’s been proven time and again out here in the West, especially in the old days, when Indian raids would keep supply trains from coming in, or a new mining town would open practically overnight. It still happens in small towns that the railroads have avoided for one reason or another, and in settlements like this that aren’t full townships yet.”

For someone in Damian’s line of business, that was like music to his ears. Imports and exports, supply and demand. He wondered if his father had ever considered this part of the country for
further expansion. It might be something to look into—as long as it didn’t require on-hand supervision. Coming West again after this trip would be at the very bottom of his to-do list, after all.

“Well, now that we’re all set to continue this journey tomorrow, how about some dinner before we turn in for the night?” Damian suggested.

“I’ll skip dinner if you don’t mind. The hotel doesn’t serve any, and I’m not used to making such a complete ass of myself, so I’d just as soon avoid that saloon again. Besides, we’ll need some supplies before the store closes if we’re going to set out at a decent hour in the morning. I’ll take care of that, then turn in.”

Damian wasn’t going to argue with him, since the kid was looking quite embarrassed again. “Suit yourself. I’ll come with you to the store, though, to settle the bill.”

“I’ve got enough money, Damian—”

“I
did
say I’d pay all travel expenses, didn’t I? Besides, it won’t hurt me to find out firsthand what you consider necessities for trail riding.”

Casey threw his words back at him. “Suit yourself—which reminds me, did a saddle come with that pinto?”

Damian did some blushing now. A saddle was something he wouldn’t have thought of, and if not attended to today, it would have delayed their departure in the morning until the general store opened again.

“Actually, he kept the saddle.”

“Kind of figured he might. Takes longer to break in a new saddle than it does a new horse.
Well, let’s hope the store has some in stock. It might not carry them, though, with no horses for sale here. Then again, it might stock a little of everything, as most general stores do.”

Casey didn’t appear too concerned about it, but Damian still asked, “And if it doesn’t?”

Casey grinned. “Don’t go worrying about things ahead of time, Damian. Let’s find out first; then you can worry about it after.”