"Ah, Jamie, I've been waiting on you for a while now. Just earlier, Hosea came by and mentioned there's a horse he wants to sell. We can trade that one off and maybe get you a proper horse of your own." Arthur said with a grin as he walked over.
Jamie stepped closer, nodded, and replied, "I ran into Mr. Matthews on the way here. He already told me about it. When are we heading out?"
"We can go right now." Arthur brushed the dust off his hands and looked ready to leave.
"Mr. Matthews said we could borrow his saddle for now."
Arthur chuckled. "Well, that's good news. It sure wasn't too comfortable being squeezed together with you yesterday. I'll ride the packhorse Hosea's selling, and you can ride mine. First, let's swap over Hosea's saddle."
With that, Arthur walked toward a silver Turkoman stallion tied nearby.
"Easy there, Silver Dollar, easy…" Arthur soothed the animal with a calm voice while loosening the girth and lifting off its saddle.
Jamie's eyes widened as he took in the horse's shimmering coat. "Silver Dollar, huh? That's a fitting name. It's a fine-looking horse!"
Arthur chuckled. "Yeah, Hosea treats Silver Dollar like gold. Second only to that hat he never takes off."
As Arthur carried the saddle, he glanced back at Jamie. "Think you're up for riding into town on your own today? These big fellas can be a handful."
"I can try." Jamie answered carefully. He'd already gotten the intermediate riding skill for it, but it wasn't like he could say, 'I just started and now I'm already a pro.'
"Alright then. We'll keep it slow today."
Once Arthur secured Hosea's saddle, the two mounted up and guided their horses down the trail leading toward Valentine.
"Jamie, you're a fast learner. You're holding steady on just your second day. Took me near a week to stay in the saddle without eating dirt. That week was hell." Arthur grinned, clearly impressed. "Maybe you've got a real knack for this. Must've been tough working with animals back at that circus."
Jamie shrugged lightly. "Maybe it's just natural. Feels like I've done this before, somehow." In truth, he silently chalked it up to talent.
"Oh, and Jamie—did you notice that extra horse in camp? From the way Hosea talked, it sure ain't one of ours."
Arthur smirked. "Yeah, Hosea told me about it. Some loudmouth tried robbing him yesterday. Poor bastard didn't realize Hosea's not the kind of man you can push around. Hosea gave him a proper lesson and took his horse as payment."
Jamie blinked, then smirked. 'What kind of fool tries robbing these folks? Guess I should be grateful, though. Wouldn't be getting a horse this quick otherwise.'
"He's a poor soul," Jamie said with a trace of pity.
Arthur turned his head, spat in the dirt, and scoffed. "Ain't nothing pitiful about those robbers. My guess? He saw an older fella dressed well and figured he'd be easy prey. Didn't realize Hosea's a wolf in sheep's clothing. Hah!" Arthur laughed heartily at the thought.
"That's why I said he's pitiful. Chose the wrong target and even lost his ride." Jamie smirked.
Arthur nodded, still grinning. "True enough. But I'll say this—people like him need a lesson. Otherwise, they'll just keep preying on the truly poor. If it'd been me, I might've left him for dead."
Jamie winced a little at Arthur's bluntness. He was starting to see another side of the man beyond his good nature.
The pair followed the same road they had traveled yesterday. Stagecoaches rattled by, postmen trotted along, and the occasional rider passed them.
Feeling a bit more confident, Jamie gradually pushed his horse faster, overtaking wagons and riders alike.
"Hey, Jamie, rein it in some!" Arthur called from behind. "I know you're pickin' this up quick, but remember—this packhorse ain't built for keepin' that pace long."
Jamie tugged gently on the reins, slowing down until Arthur caught up.
Side by side again, the two rode on until the rooftops and smoke of Valentine finally came into view.
Arthur took Jamie to the stable in town. A man who looked like the owner was brushing down a horse.
Seeing Arthur and Jamie approach, he set aside his brush and said to Arthur, "Morning, sir. Anything I can do for you?"
Arthur swung down from his saddle and said, "I'm looking to buy a horse. Need one that's strong and fast."
The stable owner's face brightened at the words. "Well, you've come to the right place. I got a few fine ones that might suit you." He stepped closer, his eyes drifting to the tall, powerful black packhorse Arthur had brought along. "What about this one? You looking to sell it?"
Arthur rubbed his chin, then gave a slow nod. "Depends on what you're offering." He already had it in mind to sell the horse, but wasn't about to show his hand before hearing a price.
"You got papers for him?" the owner asked as he ran a hand down the horse's neck.
Arthur shook his head. "No, no papers."
The man frowned, thinking it over. "Hm. That knocks the value down some. Still, you're in luck. Got a fella who's been wanting a packhorse like this. I can give you forty dollars for him."
Arthur smirked and gave a short nod. "Alright then, deal." He motioned Jamie forward and said to the owner, "Show him what you've got."
With the sale done, the owner looked pleased. He waved Jamie toward the stalls. "Come on, son. Let me show you." He pointed at a golden-coated mare. "Palomino Morgan, mare. Cheapest one here—five dollars."
He moved to the next stall, resting his hand on a sleek gray mare. "Iron-gray Standardbred, mare. Fifty dollars."
Then he stopped at the third stall and gestured proudly toward a sturdy stallion. "Chocolate-dun Warmblood, stallion. Finest of the bunch. A hundred dollars."
Jamie stared at the three horses. The prices ranged so far apart, and aside from their colors and size, he couldn't see much difference.
Still, he knew what they said was true—you get what you pay for.
The Morgan was clearly the weakest choice, and the Warmblood was out of his reach—his last horse had only sold for forty.
The Standardbred seemed the best option, though it meant he'd be short ten dollars.
He sighed inwardly. Maybe Arthur would cover him.
Jamie pointed at the gray mare. "This one." He turned to Arthur. "Sorry, Arthur, could you lend me ten dollars? I'll pay you back soon."
Arthur pulled a bill from his pocket and handed it to the stable owner. "Don't worry about it. This is your money anyhow—I was just keeping it safe for you." Then he asked, "You got saddles here? We'll be needing one."
The owner's eyes lit up. "Sure do. Right this way."
Arthur and Jamie followed him to the workshop beside the stable. The man gestured at a row of saddles on the wall. "Take your pick. Five dollars apiece. Saddlebags will run you two or four more, depending on size."
Jamie picked out a reddish-brown cowhide saddle and said, "A two-dollar bag is fine."
Arthur raised a brow. "Go with a bigger one, Jamie. Fellas like us need room for gear. You'll thank me later."
Jamie hesitated, then nodded. "Alright, I'll listen to you."
After a short wait, the stable owner returned, leading out the iron-gray mare with the saddle and bags strapped on.
Arthur clapped Jamie on the back. "Go on, try her out."
Jamie stepped forward without hesitation. He ran his hand through the horse's mane, then took the reins offered by the owner. The man patted his chest with pride. "Fine choice, son. Don't you doubt it—my stock's the best you'll find around here."
"Oh, right, here are the papers for this horse." The stable owner handed a folded sheet to Jamie. "Also, I've got a new brush for you as a bonus." He reached over to a nearby table and picked up a brand-new horsebrush, handing it carefully to Jamie.
Jamie tucked the documents and brush into the saddlebag, then mounted the horse with some effort—his shoulder injury making it a slow process.
He gently squeezed the horse's sides and rode a small circle around the stable yard, then gave Arthur a thumbs-up before guiding the horse back to the stable entrance.
Arthur, pleased, paid the stable owner for the saddle and saddlebag, then collected Hosea's saddle and placed it on his own horse.
"How's she feel? Not too shabby, right?" the stable owner asked, nodding toward the horse.
Jamie gave a slight nod. "She's a fine horse."
The stable owner stroked the horse's neck, his rough hand moving slowly along her mane as if he were saying goodbye to an old friend.
"So, what will you name her?" the stable owner asked all of a sudden, his voice carrying a kind of warmth that caught Jamie off guard. Jamie's eyes widened in realization.
'Right... I have to name her...'
Jamie fell silent, his gaze fixed on the horse. He leaned against the stall door, lost in thought, as the soft sounds of horses snorting and the faint creak of the wooden beams filled the stable.
For a few minutes, the stable owner simply waited, a patient smile on his face, understanding that for a rider, naming a horse was a moment that carried weight.
Finally, Jamie lifted his head, a firm look in his eyes as he met the stable owner's gaze.
His voice carried a note of certainty when he said, "Martha. Her name will be Martha."
The owner's lips curled into a pleased smile, nodding in approval.
"Martha, huh. A beautiful name for a beautiful horse! Treat her well, and she'll look after you, I promise. Safe travels now." He stepped aside, patting Martha once more as Jamie carefully led her out of the stall.
The mare's hooves clopped gently against the stable floor as they moved toward the dusty street outside.
"Care to introduce me to your new companion, Jamie?" Arthur's voice called out, carrying that familiar calm but amused tone.
He stood a few feet away, watching Jamie guide the horse out into the open air.
"Arthur, meet Martha. Martha, meet Arthur," Jamie said with a grin. His introduction made Arthur chuckle.
The gunslinger stepped forward, his gloved hand reaching out to stroke Martha's neck with a practiced gentleness.
The horse flicked her ears but didn't shy away, leaning slightly into the touch.
"You picked a fine horse," Arthur commented, his sharp eyes scanning Martha's frame with a mixture of approval and quiet admiration.
Jamie nodded, his chest swelling with pride as he held his head a little higher.
"Where to now?" Jamie asked, glancing around at the muddy streets of Valentine
"Let's see what work's available and check if we can get you a proper gun," Arthur replied, his tone easygoing.
The best place to gather information was the saloon. So, despite the trouble they'd caused there yesterday, the two headed for the Smithfield's Saloon .
As they tied their horses outside, a man sitting on the bench shot them a glare.
"What're you back for? Didn't you cause enough trouble already? You knocked half the place on its ass and nearly killed Tommy! Don't you know he's been rattled ever since last night?" he barked.
Arthur cocked an eyebrow and replied with a smirk, "This is a saloon. Fistfights happen. Nobody died, so why all the fuss?"
The man puffed up, trying to sound tough. "Show some respect for our town and our people! There were tougher men than you once, and we still sent them packing."
Arthur chuckled at the naïve claim. "Buddy, if someone hits you, you hit back. You'd do the same. Honestly, we were the victims here. Is this how Valentine treats its guests?"
The man scowled. "In my opinion, you ain't worth a fart!" he spat before turning to leave.
Arthur stepped forward, grabbing the man's arm and pointing at the fresh bruise on his own face. "Look closely. I'm telling you straight—your people started it, and I've already held back enough. If I'd been half as cowardly as you were, the person you call 'mentally unstable' would be me right now."
The man's bravado evaporated. He wrenched his arm free and scurried into a nearby alley, disappearing from sight.
Arthur pointed in the direction the man had fled and turned to Jamie, saying, "See, Jamie? That's how you deal with people who bully the weak and fear the strong. In my opinion, knocking him out with one punch was too easy on him."
Jamie felt a shiver of disgust at the man's cowardly behavior—so quick to talk big and gossip, yet freezing when it mattered. Like a typical keyboard warrior.
"That's right," he said, nodding. "People like that need to be taught a lesson by those who actually knows something. Uh, I mean in the broad sense of the word 'tough.'"
Arthur laughed, a low, rumbling sound, and cursed under his breath. "Even if you say I'm a truly bad man, I won't argue. To them, we already are."
He pushed open the saloon doors. Inside, all eyes snapped toward them. Conversation and laughter died mid-sentence.
Seeing the tension, Arthur raised both hands above his head and said loudly, "Relax! I'm not looking for a fight today."
Then he glanced at the bartender behind the bar. "Is this how your saloon treats folks just wanting a drink?"
The bartender, realizing the unease, quickly waved his hands. "Everybody, carry on, it's fine. Really."
Jamie followed Arthur to the bar. Arthur grabbed a handful of peanuts and tossed one into his mouth before speaking to the bartender. "Two Kentucky bourbons, please." He slid two dollars across the counter and asked, "By the way, know of any places hiring around town lately?"
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