"Faster, damnit!" Liam barked, gritting his teeth as he lashed the reins. The wagon jolted forward, wheels screaming over the rocky trail. Bullets tore through the air around him, one shattered a plank on the wagon's side, another whizzed past his ear close enough to make him flinch.
Cain rode hard beside the wagon, one hand gripping Mabel's reins tight, the other firing back with his Schofield. His shots rang out sharp and quick, echoing off the cliffs.
Shooting on foot was one thing, it was steady, predictable. Shooting while riding a horse that jolted with every stride? That was something else entirely.
Each pull of the trigger felt like chance rolling its dice. He missed two, grazed one, then finally hit true, a bandit on horseback went tumbling from the ridge, disappearing in a cloud of dust.
"Keep goin'!" Cain shouted over the chaos.
"I am goin'!" Liam snapped, half-panicked, half-determined, firing his revolver wildly with his free hand. The smell of gunpowder and burning leather filled the air.
Behind them, more riders burst from the brush, hooting and yelling, the thunder of hooves growing louder.
Cain glanced back, four of them, maybe five, closing fast.
"Liam, cut left when I tell you!" he yelled.
"Why?"
"Because I'm about to end this!"
Cain holstered his revolver and drew the repeater, slinging it up one-handed. Mabel whinnied and swerved, dust kicking up around her as Cain twisted in the saddle, steadying his aim.
He exhaled, just once, and pulled the trigger.
The first rider fell.
Then the second.
The third veered off, spooked by the sudden fall of his comrades.
By the time the fourth realized what was happening, Cain was already sighted in on him.
Bang.
Silence returned as quickly as the ambush began, just the pounding of hooves, the heavy breathing of horses, and the creak of the wagon slowing to a stop.
Liam turned, disbelief written across his face. "You… you got 'em all?"
Cain holstered his rifle, face unreadable. "No," he said quietly. "Just the ones who didn't know when to quit."
They stopped, catching their breath only for a few moments before Cain forced the both of them to continue moving, with the thought of the possibility that more were heading their way in his mind.
"What the hell's so important in that wagon that the O'Driscolls are willing to chase you for it?" Cain broke the silence at last, his voice low over the steady creak of wheels and hoofbeats.
Liam let out a tired breath, his grip on the reins loosening a little. "Hell if I know anymore. Nothin' in there but food, tools, and some trade goods. I ain't carryin' gold, if that's what you're thinkin'."
"Maybe they were out of supplies," Cain muttered, glancing toward the wagon. "Saw yours rollin' by and figured it'd save 'em the trouble of huntin' or robbin' someone tougher."
Liam gave a short, humorless laugh. "Wouldn't surprise me none. The O'Driscoll Boys are a pack of desperate idiots. Poorly armed, half-trained, drunk most of the time. Only thing they got goin' for 'em is numbers and bad luck on their side."
"Guess so…" Cain murmured. His hand absentmindedly brushed the scar on his cheek, the skin still raw and tender from the graze.
Liam continued after a pause, his voice softening with old memory. "Back in my bounty-huntin' days, they were just startin' to make a name for themselves. Mean sons of bitches, but still small-time. I even crossed paths with Colm O'Driscoll once."
Cain looked over sharply. "You met him?"
Liam smirked. "Met's a strong word. More like we walked past each other. I was wearin' a hood, and he didn't know my face."
Cain tilted his head, curious. "What would've happened if he did?"
Liam chuckled, though there wasn't much humor in it. "Who knows? Maybe I'd be six feet under by now… or maybe they'd still be tellin' stories about me in the saloons."
Cain smiled faintly, eyes on the trail ahead. "You sound like a man who misses the danger."
Liam shrugged. "Maybe I just miss the clarity. Back then, I knew who the bad men were."
"Anyways," Liam said, pulling a folded stack of bills from his coat, "here's the hundred I owe you, for all the trouble I dragged you into."
Cain blinked, then smiled faintly as he accepted the money. "No worries, Liam. You've already paid me in good company."
Liam chuckled. "Well, I'll drink to that once I get home." He climbed down from the wagon, brushing the dust off his trousers. "With all that cash you're stackin' up, you oughta open yourself a bank account. Safer that way. Unless, of course, the bank gets robbed."
Cain's smile lingered, but his eyes flicked away. "An account, huh? Maybe one day. Right now, I need the money close. Easier to trust what I can touch."
He pocketed the bills carefully, almost absent-mindedly. The thought of the Valentine Savings Bank made him pause. He remembered how the story went, or would go. A robbery that'd shake the town to its bones, carried out by a gang infamous enough to have their names whispered around campfires.
He didn't know when it would happen, or if it had already. Blackwater, Dutch, Arthur, all those names still drifting somewhere beyond the horizon of this world.
For now, Cain decided, better safe than sorry.
He tipped his hat at Liam. "Take care of that wagon. Don't let it get stolen again."
Liam laughed, waving as he climbed back up to his seat. "No promises, mister Cain. But I'll sure as hell try."
(Money:$655)
...
"I take it your presence means it's done," Malloy said without looking up, his eyes still buried in the stack of reports Cain had handed him earlier.
Cain approached the desk, his boots thudding lightly against the wooden floor. "You now have one less O'Driscoll camp out there, and one happy farmer."
Malloy finally looked up, a brief smile flickering beneath his mustache. "Fantastic work, son." He sifted through the papers before pulling out a few folded sheets. "Now, take a look at this."
Cain took them, brow furrowing. "Letters?"
"Yeah. They were mixed in with the documents you brought me," Malloy said, leaning back in his chair. "Turns out that little hideout behind the doctor's office wasn't just a gang of runaways. It was part of something bigger."
Cain scanned the handwriting, rough, hurried, stained with dirt. "How so?"
"You remember a couple weeks back, before you took up bounty work, when livestock started vanishing from farms all over? Cattle, pigs, sheep, even a few horses?"
"I do. Half the town was talking about it. Farmers couldn't shut up about their losses. Some drank themselves half to death over it."
Malloy gave a dry chuckle. "Well, these people in that hideout? They were scouts. Their job was to sniff out weaknesses, who was guarding what, which ranches were short on hands. Hell, they even posed as farm workers just to get a look around."
Cain raised an eyebrow. "Sounds too organized for the O'Driscolls."
"Exactly." Malloy's tone turned grave. "But here's the kicker. These letters...." he tapped the paper in Cain's hand, " they say Colm O'Driscoll himself was giving the orders. Every detail, every target, every move. Not some half-baked idea from a few desperate men."
Cain's jaw tightened slightly. "Colm himself, huh? That's a whole different beast."
Malloy nodded. "Which means this isn't over yet. Not by a damn sight."
"The guy's pretty ambitious, this Colm," Cain said, folding his arms and staring at the ceiling as if the answer might be painted there.
Malloy snorted, amusement and annoyance braided in his voice. "You don't know the half of it, son. Bastard acts like he's goin' to be King of the West, delusions of grandeur, all swagger and no sense. Hard to believe with the law breathing down his neck, but arrogance like that can be dangerous."
Cain's jaw ticked. "I don't doubt that's one of his goals. So what now? We can't let this go on. I pity the farmers, what they're losing at the bar hurts more than coin."
Malloy's face went flat, the banter gone. "Next step's simple: we deal with them. Colm may be smart, but he's cocky. The camp where the heist crew's holed up sits out in the open between Castor's Ridge and Caliban's Seat. The stolen livestock? Hidden in caves near Twin Stack Pass."
He looked Cain straight in the eye. "Right now Colm has no idea we intercepted his letters. He's been strutting around thinking he's untouchable. He's wrong."
"This is your moment, Cain," Malloy said, voice low and steady. "Finish this, bring back the stock, and people'll talk. Even Washington'll hear about it if we play our cards right. For now, get some rest. Go hunt. Clear your head. We'll call you when the time comes."
Cain nodded once, a small motion that carried more than words. He straightened his coat, the weight of the day settling into his shoulders like an old cloak. He didn't speak; there was nothing to say. The work had already been decided.
He stepped out into the sunlit street, tipped his hat without looking back, and walked on. Behind him, Malloy returned to his papers, the office swallowing the quiet like smoke.
To be continued.....