Atonement

by Kyle Alexander Romines

  Christian sighed. He wasn’t in the mood to let his boss down.

  “I’ll think about it,” he said, weighing his words carefully. “But you should know, I never tend to stay in one place for too long.”

  Christian thought of Big Jim Markham and Charlie Sheldon. Word in Casper was that Charlie had returned to the mountain ranch, though Christian hadn’t set foot near town since the baptism. True to his word, Quinn Blackwell stayed away from Christian, and Christian kept his distance from the gang. The return of the outfit’s boss complicated things, especially given that Big Jim had it out for Christian.

  “To be perfectly honest, Mr. Morgan, I’m not sure how much longer this quiet is going to last. Your mayor has made it abundantly clear he expects me to pass through soon, and my stock isn’t too high with Big Jim. There’s not much reason for me to stick around.”

  Morgan didn’t reply. The two gazed at the fire until they finished their meals, then pulled out their cots and turned in for the evening. Despite his exhaustion, it took Christian a long time to fall asleep that night. Christian wished he could have told Morgan what he wanted to hear, but he didn’t have it in himself to lie to the old man. It wasn’t that he wanted to leave Casper. Christian found that he had come to care for the town and its people. If it were up to him, he would gladly take Morgan’s offer and settle down. But he didn’t have a choice.

  There isn’t place for you here. You’re an outlaw, he reminded himself. Christian wondered what the people of Casper would say if they heard the crimes he was charged with. Would they stand by him then? He doubted it. So, he had to keep moving.

  The two men mounted their horses at dawn and drove the cattle the rest of the way. They arrived at the ranch near noon and enjoyed a healthy portion of beef stew back at the house after leading the cattle to the corral. When they were finished, Morgan limped outside wearing a grimace on his face. He gestured for Christian to follow.

  “It’ll be awhile before I spend that much time in the saddle again,” he muttered. Spotting the concern in Christian’s face, Morgan added, “Don’t worry, I’ll be right as rain in time to take the herd to town.”

  “Glad to hear it.” Christian considered the prospect of doing all the work himself. He shuddered at the thought.

  The door swung open behind them, and Rebecca stepped onto the porch. “Landon, I’ve made a list of supplies I need when you go to town.”

  “I’m afraid I’m not up to it today, dear.” He looked to Christian. “Emerson will have to handle it for you.”

  “Very well,” Rebecca said. She handed Christian the list. “Landon, make sure you give him enough money before he leaves.” She looked at Christian. “Are you going to finish that book soon?”

  Christian had been neglecting the Odyssey recently, partially because of the longer work hours and partially because he was reluctant to finish it. But he’d read to Rebecca from the book, and she was curious to see how it ended.

  “I think so,” he answered.

  “Good,” she said. “I’ll have a nice dinner waiting for you when you return.” With that, Rebecca returned to the house.

  Morgan took out his pocket watch and studied the time. “You’d better get a move on it if you’re going to make it back before dark,” he said. Morgan leaned forward in his rocking chair. “Leave word for Finley Mason in town in regard to the herd. He or one of his people will hear of it the next time they’re in town.”

  “I will, sir.”

  Morgan went inside and emerged with a small stack of bills. His movements were stiff.

  “This should cover everything. You take care now.”

  “Yes sir.”

  As Christian rode away from the ranch, he noticed Morgan once again staring at the pocket watch. It wasn’t the first time his boss had done so, though the man usually took out the watch when he thought no one was watching. Christian wondered what significance the pocket watch held to him.

  He made his way to town quickly, anxious to return and spend some time off his feet. Morgan wasn’t the only one who was sore from their hours in the saddle. Christian wondered how cowboys managed it on the long drives. He was no stranger to making long journeys on horseback, but rounding up the cattle was a taxing new experience.

  Christian led Galahad to a hitching post and dismounted. He left word for Finley with Matthew inside the saloon and went about his business. Taking Rebecca’s list with him, Christian set about gathering the materials she needed from the general store. When he finished, he began loading the goods into his pack.

  The wind shifted, and Christian looked up in time to see a tall stranger approaching the hitching post from the courthouse. He noticed the stranger’s black bandana and took a closer look. Untamed brown hair spilled out from underneath the man’s black hat. Although the man wore a wide grin on his face, there was something strangely unsettling about it.

  The stranger focused his attention on a palomino hitched to the post when he perceived Christian’s gaze. The man turned his head toward him, sizing him up with a set of pale gray eyes.

  “I don’t know your face,” the stranger said. His eyes darted to Christian’s guns and his smile vanished. “You must be Emerson. We meet at last.” The man paused for a moment. “Quinn told me all about you. Said you’re one of the quickest draws he’s ever seen.”

  In that instant, Christian knew he was talking to Charlie Sheldon.

  “I’m assuming you’re the man that runs Mr. Markham’s outfit,” Christian replied. He met Charlie’s eyes with a steady gaze. “I’ve heard much about you as well.”

  Charlie clenched his teeth. “You are mistaken,” he said. “I run my own outfit. The Black Bandanas answer to me alone, not Big Jim.”

  It was then that Christian spotted Mayor Hale watching them from the steps of the courthouse. The mayor was partially concealed by one of the pillars, but there was no mistaking his watchful gaze. Had Charlie come to town to pay a visit to the mayor? The rustler had emerged from the courthouse before heading to the hitching post. Christian wondered what business the two men discussed.

  He kept his face expressionless. “All the same, I reckon you’re well known in these parts.”

  Charlie sneered. “It’s funny, no one seems to know much about you, Mr. Emerson. I wonder why that is.” When Christian didn’t respond, Charlie spoke again. “As for myself, Casper’s a quaint little town. Me and the boys have grown quite fond of it.” He spoke in a jovial tone, but there was a darkness that simmered just beneath the surface.

  “I’m well aware of that,” Christian said. “I’ve met some of the men in your outfit.”

  “So I’ve heard. Imagine my surprise on returning to Big Jim’s ranch and finding that you’d cost me three of my men, and that a fourth now takes his food with a spoon.”

  Christian raised his eyebrows, knowing full well he’d only shot two of the rustler’s men, but he dismissed the discrepancy. “Your men drew on me. I was only defending myself, and I’d do so again if I have to.”

  Charlie’s eyes lingered once again on Christian’s guns. The fingers of Charlie’s right hand quivered, as if itching to reach for the gun at his side. Christian briefly wondered if the man was considering pulling on him. But Charlie was alone, which meant he wouldn’t have his men to help him if he came up short.

  Charlie’s jaw tightened. “Those are nice pistols. I’m wondering if I’ll get the chance to see just how quick you are, Mr. Emerson.”

  “We aren’t going to have any trouble, are we?” Christian asked, his voice unwavering.

  Charlie looked him in the eye for a few seconds longer, holding Christian’s gaze. “Not today,” he muttered. He untied his horse and mounted it with Christian watching cautiously.

  Christian kept his hand ready to reach for his guns in case of treachery. If half the things he’d heard about C
harlie Sheldon were true, it would be unsafe to take his eyes off him even for a second.

  Charlie took the reins in his hands and looked down at Christian. “A word of advice. You’re new to town, so you don’t understand the way things are. I reckon I can appreciate that. Quinn says you’re just passing through, and I expect that to happen shortly. Until then, don’t make trouble for my boys or me. Otherwise, I might have to pay a little visit to that ranch you’re living on, and bring a few friends of mine. Understand?”

  There was a hard edge to the words, and Christian didn’t doubt Charlie meant every syllable. He thought of Morgan and Rebecca in danger, and it only furthered his ambition to depart after the harvest. With any luck, he would be fully prepared to leave Casper behind in a few weeks.

  Charlie Sheldon seemed to wait for a response for a long while before he realized one wasn’t coming. When Christian didn’t answer him, the rustler dug his spurs into the stallion and rode south.

  Christian watched Charlie go until he spotted Russell Hale still looking at him from the pillars. He left Galahad at the hitching post and walked over to the courthouse.

  “I understand you had words with Charlie,” the mayor said. “I warned you he was coming.”

  “You did,” Christian replied.

  “And yet, here you stand.”

  Christian smelled alcohol on the mayor’s breath. “I’m not afraid of Charlie Sheldon, Mayor.”

  The words seemed to deflate Russell. “I wish I had your steel,” he whispered. “When Charlie and his outfit first rode into town, it wasn’t long before they made it known what kind of men they were.” He lifted his head toward the mountains. “I should have stood up to them then, and I didn’t. I let them walk all over me, to my everlasting shame.” He turned his gaze back to Christian. “This town needed someone like you. Now it’s too late.”

  Christian hesitated and laid a hand on the mayor’s shoulder. “It’s never too late,” he said.

  “You don’t understand,” Russell responded, emotion in his voice. “Everyone calls me a coward, and they’re right. I’m nothing. Worse than nothing.”

  “That’s for you to decide,” Christian said. He removed his hand. “I will say this though. It’s something a friend of mine once said, and I’ve never forgotten it. Life is about the choices we make. Whatever kind of man you think you are now, you’re not condemned to that fate.” Christian turned and left Russell to his thoughts.

  Christian returned to the ranch slightly before nightfall. He said nothing of his encounter with Charlie Sheldon or his conversation with the mayor.

  To Christian’s delight, that evening they enjoyed a steak dinner fit for a king. Christian hadn’t eaten so well in a long while. He tried to retain his good manners as he ate, but eventually his hunger took over, and he stripped the meat to the bone.

  “That was delicious,” he said when they were finished. “What’s the occasion?”

  “Between the harvest and the fair, we should turn a decent profit this year,” Morgan said. “I figured we could eat well for a few nights.”

  “You’ve been such a big help to Landon and me,” Rebecca added. “I’ll admit, I wasn’t sure about having a stranger in the house so soon after what happened to Abel, but Landon was right about you. You’re a good sort, Mr. Emerson.”

  “Thank you,” Christian said appreciatively.

  He finished reading the Odyssey that night, long after the Morgans retired for the evening. Christian felt a sense of sadness when he closed the book. Although he shared a certain kinship with Odysseus, the similarities to his life ended when the hero reached Ithaca―Christian knew he could never go home.

  It dawned on him that as the book had reached a close, so his time with the farmer and his wife was coming to an end. Despite trying to remain unattached, he knew he would miss them both greatly. Christian hadn’t made many friends in a long time, and Landon Morgan was a good man.

  * * * * *

  The fair started two days later, and Finley turned up on the third day to help drive the cattle toward Casper. Due to a lack of competition from Dennis Potter and other ranchers living near the mountains who suffered cattle losses from the rustlers, Morgan’s cattle sold for a great deal more than he expected. The farmer gave Christian a portion of the money for his help, and a smaller portion to Finley.

  While Morgan and Rebecca took part in the festivities, Christian largely watched. He saw a few familiar faces among the crowd. To his relief, he couldn’t spot anyone wearing a black bandana. Christian had wondered if the rustlers would attempt to seize some of the profit from the fair, but perhaps that gambit was too brash even for Charlie.

  Abigail Vincent played with several children near the town square. The girl wore one of the most joyful smiles Christian had ever seen. Despite all that had happened in her life, she could still find reason to smile. Somehow, that gave him hope.

  Finley disappeared shortly after Morgan handed him his wages. He reemerged a time later trying to win a prize for May Turner. May smiled warmly when Finley handed her the prize, but her eyes sought out Christian. He touched his hat to acknowledge her.

  Before Christian could find solitude somewhere more removed, he found himself pulled into a spirited conversation between Rudolph Griffith and Mrs. Kays over industrialization. He gave few responses, intending to excuse himself. Instead, the pair evidently interpreted his silence as curiosity, and each tried to persuade him to come to their side.

  When he finally got away, Christian found a quiet spot to watch the townspeople enjoy the day. He leaned over a rail and stood in the shade, closing his eyes and letting the wind wash over him as he listened to the chatter. For a time, no matter how brief, he had been a part of a community again. It would be difficult to leave it all behind.

  * * * * *

  When the fair ended, Christian used his money to buy the supplies he needed from the general store. Once he had collected his wages from the harvest, he would be ready to leave.

  Christian sat on the porch that night and watched the stars, wondering what would become of Casper once he left.

  Chapter Ten

  Three days following the end of the fair, Finley Mason was returning to his horse after having run some errands for his father when he heard a scream. May Turner rushed out of the saloon, running into the wind. Concerned, the young man took off after her.

  “May!” he called out.

  She stopped and nearly collapsed against a brick post outside the general store. Finley caught up to her, and she looked up at him with a mournful gaze. Tears streaked down her face.

  Finley pulled her into an embrace. “What’s wrong?”

  May tried to speak, but she choked on the words. Finley waited patiently for her to regain her composure, holding his hands on her shoulders to steady her. After a few seconds, she pointed across the street to the Dusty Traveler.

  “That awful man,” she said. “He’s threatening Mr. Griffith.”

  “Stay here,” Finley said firmly. “Everything is going to be all right.”

  “Where are you going?” May asked. She wiped a tear from her cheek.

  “To the saloon. I’m going to see if I can help.”

  “Be careful!” May called after him.

  He felt her eyes following him as he hurried across the street. Finley ran toward the batwing doors and spotted a familiar horse tied to the hitching post. He remembered the animal’s brand well from his time in the stables. It belonged to Kane Pennington, one of Charlie’s gang.

  The doors swung open, and sure enough, there stood Kane. He gauged Finley with only mild interest, as if unconcerned by the young man’s presence. He turned his attention back to Rudolph Griffith, who was leaning against the bar, a note clutched tightly in his left hand. The portly businessman crumpled onto one of the stools, his face red. Matthew
watched from behind the counter, quiet as a lamb.

  “This will ruin me,” Griffith exclaimed. His voice cracked. “You can’t do this.” The businessman ran a hand through his wispy blond hair. Sweat formed on his brow. He stared down at the note, his hand shaking.

  “You have until tomorrow,” Kane said darkly. “Or else you and I will be seeing each other again real soon.” He took a few steps toward the saloon owner.

  “That’s far enough,” said Matthew in a rare display of gumption. He pulled a revolver from behind the counter and trained it on the rustler.

  Kane lifted his arms in the air and grinned. Finley felt a chill run down his spine.

  “I’d be careful who you point that thing at,” Kane said. “I was only sent here to warn you, but that could change any second.”

  Matthew slowly lowered the revolver.

  “Maybe you folks aren’t as dumb as you look,” Kane said, his hand on the butt of his own gun. He turned and walked toward the exit. “Big Jim will be expecting your reply shortly.” As he passed Finley, Kane stopped and looked him over. “Like I said, be seeing you soon,” he called over his shoulder.

  Finley followed the rustler into the sun and watched the man ride away before dashing back into the bar.

  “Mr. Griffith, are you all right?”

  Griffith trembled slightly, and Matthew poured him a brandy. Griffith waved it away, but when the bartender insisted, Griffith drained it quickly and motioned for a second.

  “I don’t mean to pry, sir, but you look like death warmed over. What did that man want?”

  “It’s not about him.” Griffith sighed. “It’s about Big Jim. Markham’s finally got it in his head that he wants the saloon, and he’s tired of waiting. Now that Charlie’s back in town, he’s planning to burn down the building unless I sell the Traveler to him.”