Devils Unto Dust(86)

I stand up to get a look, and sure enough, standing on her lonesome half a mile down the road is Dollarhide’s dun.

“She musta bolted when the ruckus started,” Ben says. “Good thing he didn’t turn shake when he was still on her back.”

“Lucky girl,” I say.

Curtis puts two fingers in his mouth and whistles a high note and the horse leaps forward. She walks hesitantly, shaking her head every few steps.

“Easy, girl,” Curtis calls, walking out to meet her. The horse stops and paws at the ground, and Curtis sidles up to her one small step at a time. He keeps his voice low and makes a grab for her reins. “It’s over now.”

He makes soft clucking noises at the horse, rubbing her nose like he’s already in love.

“Well, how about that,” Ben says. “Dollarhide was good for something after all.”





69.


The horse is badly spooked, and it takes Curtis some time to calm her down. Ben empties out Dollarhide’s saddlebags, keeping only more whiskey and some rope. I’m still working on the first bottle, and it’s making me feel giddy and loose. My forearm is almost completely numb; it’s an odd sensation, and I poke at the bandage before Sam slaps my hand away. He hovers around me like a cross mother hen, asking how I feel every few minutes. It would annoy me if I were sober, but as it is I just ignore him.

“What are you going to name her?” I ask Curtis.

He strokes her nose and the horse lips at his shirt, clearly smitten. “I was thinking Daisy has a nice ring to it.”

I shake my head ruefully. “Well, I reckon that name is suited to a horse.”

“Can you ride?”

“It’s been a while.” In truth I’ve only ridden once, and that was on a small donkey that McNab had behind the general store. I don’t want back in the litter, though, so I keep my mouth shut and figure I can blame any falls on the alcohol.

“Need a hand up?” Curtis offers.

I grab his hand, telling myself I don’t wish it were Ben’s. I know enough from watching others mount up to stick my left foot in the stirrup, but the horse looks impossibly tall and wide from this close. I get halfway into the saddle before I start sliding down and Curtis has to shove me back up. I end up lying sideways over the top of the horse and it takes a fair amount of readjusting to get myself properly seated.

“Just relax,” Curtis says. “Hold on to the horn there. She knows what to do, she’ll take care of you.”

“Are we all set?” Ben asks, taking a last look around. “Let’s hightail it outta here before something else goes wrong.”

Curtis loops the reins around one hand and the horse lurches forward, sending me swaying. I grab for the horn and right myself, but it doesn’t bode well for the ride. I bounce up and down in the saddle, feeling every jolt and bump; the horse can tell I’m not a good rider and snorts with irritation.

“I’m doing my best,” I whisper into her ear. “Just get me home and you never have to see me again.”

Maybe she can understand me, because we reach some kind of compromise; I find the right rhythm and stop bouncing, and she doesn’t dump me on my rear. We make much better time now that no one has to carry me, and the saddlebags lighten our loads considerably. Daisy—I make a face at her name—follows Curtis without hesitation, matching the pace he sets exactly.

“How you feeling, Will?” Sam asks.

“The same as I did the last time you asked. And the time before that.” I don’t mean to snap at him; the whiskey must be wearing off. I give and a sigh and muster up an apology. “Sorry, Sam. I know you mean well. I’ll tell you soon as anything changes.”

“You swear? ’Cause last time . . .” Sam shrugs and trails off.

“All right, I get it. I shoulda told you straight off I was sick. But honest, I didn’t even start feeling poorly till the next day. The only thing that hurt was my hand, and right now my arm is so numb I could put it through a wringer and I wouldn’t feel a thing.”

Sam narrows his eyes at me, and I sigh again, this time with exasperation.

“Sam-I-swear-I-will-tell-you-when-I-feel-something,” I rattle off. “Happy?”

“Yes ma’am,” he says, and he smiles. I haven’t seen him smile since I woke up, and a sudden rush of concern and affection floods me.

“I’m sorry, Sam,” I tell him. “I’m sorry I keep putting you through all this madness.”

Sam gives a rough laugh. “I should be the one apologizing. I don’t think I thanked you yet for saving me from Dollarhide.”

“Well, we’re even now. Seems only fair.” I look down at my bandage; I’m lucky he got my arm and not someplace more tender. I wonder how much worse it was for Micah, how much it hurt to feel those teeth rip into his neck. Thoughts like that will keep me up nights.

“Why do you think he let you go?”

I frown. “I don’t know. I would say he remembered something, but Dollarhide never showed me any kindness. Maybe he thinks I’m one of them. Maybe I smell like a shake now.”

The shakes in Silver, it was like they knew me. Like they could tell. I’m not a shake, but I’m not the same; I’m something in between.

“I guess that could be a good thing,” Sam says. “But you smell fine to me. I mean—well, we all could use a bath.”