Conn, on the other hand, had always had a twist of Cain in him. His mind drifted during Bible reading, and he’d always been more interested in fighting and girls and breaking broncs than he was in schoolwork… or any work, for that matter.
He’d left home at sixteen. He and Cole had fought over a girl. It was the only fight they ever had.
Conn had won the fight, but Cole had gotten the girl.
So Conn decided to leave, announcing to his family that he was going to see the world.
By then, he and Cole had moved past the fight, but it had set them on different paths.
Cole offered to ride along.
Conn refused. If Cole came along, he’d talk sense into Conn.
And Conn didn’t want sense. Not at sixteen. He wanted to wallow in the world.
Which is just what he’d done.
He traveled place to place, working for different men. When he took a job, he put his back into it and worked hard, but only for a while.
Mostly, he stuck to cowboying, but he’d laid track and hunted and nearly ruined his lungs scratching away deep in a silver mine. Time and time again, he’d come up short, but through it all, he’d earned his keep honestly, sticking to the right side of the law, at least in spirit.
He never meant to become a gunman, but in the West, you didn’t have to want to be a gunman. Sometimes, all you had to want was to survive. Things happened, you survived, and suddenly, you had a reputation.
And having a reputation made the men who did want to be known come looking for you.
After several men tried and failed, the name Conn Sullivan echoed across the frontier.
Now, Conn was sick of it.
He didn’t want to be Conn Sullivan anymore. At least not the Conn Sullivan he’d become.
He wanted to settle down and work for himself for a change. Maybe even do like his brother was doing, get married and start a place.
When he’d last come off the trail, a letter from Cole had been waiting for him. It contained good news. Cole had married a wonderful young woman named Mary, and they were busy proving up a hundred and sixty acres in Colorado.
Come on out and join us,Cole had written.There’s good land adjoining ours. Grass, water, views that will knock your eyes out. Come on out, Conn. Claim the land, and we’ll make a life out here, side by side, just like we always said we would.
The letter rode inside Conn’s shirt pocket now as he leaned here, not ten miles from Cole, drinking a beer and grinning at the saloon girl. He’d thought about riding straight to the homestead, but he figured he’d have a few beers and let Cole and Mary have their supper.
“Sure, darling. I’ll buy you a drink. But I gotta shoot straight with you: I’m not looking for anything past that.”
The girl pouted a little. “Ain’t I pretty enough for you?”
“Oh, you’re plenty pretty. I’m just not looking is all.”
“You already have a sweetheart?”
“Something like that.”
“What’s her name?”
“I don’t know.”
She tilted her head a little. “You don’t know?”
“No, ma’am.”
“Are you making fun of me?”
