For now, he needed to rest, or his body was going to give in. He was starving, too, but that would have to wait. Not bothering to change his clothes or do anything else, Deadshot crawled into his bed.
He didn’t dream, and he didn’t wake once until the next morning. He woke slowly, his mind still groggy from sleep as memories of the previous day flooded in. It had been quite the adventure, but he was glad that it was over. Sitting up, Deadshot stretched his arms above his head. Every muscle in his body ached, but at least he wasn’t tired anymore. He couldn’t remember the last time he had slept so long and so well.
Testing his knee, he gently swung his legs over the edge of the bed. A sharp pain shot up his thigh, and he groaned in frustration. It was going to take weeks for the pain to settle again. His stomach chose that moment to rumble, reminding him just how hungry he was. He’d gone days without eating before but had gotten used to having three meals a day over the last couple of years. He needed to eat. His knee was just going to have to deal with it.
Pushing himself to his feet, Deadshot made his way to his kitchen and started a fire in the coal stove. Wanting to eat as soon as possible, he threw some eggs in a pan to fry while he cut two slices of cornbread. It was a little stale but wasn’t rotten, soit would do just fine. As soon as the eggs looked edible, he dished them up, sat down, and wolfed them down.
Feeling better, he made himself some coffee, ate another slice of bread, and then headed back to his bedroom to change his clothes and clean himself. He had to take the bodies to Sheriff Watkins, and he might as well stop and get some supplies while he was in town.
Deadshot didn’t care much about appearances, but walking around town wearing clothes that were splattered with blood and dirt wouldn’t go over well. He had done it many times before while he was still working as a bounty hunter, but now that he was retired and had settled down, it was best he made himself at least semi-presentable.
With that done, he stopped in the kitchen to eat yet another slice of bread, which he washed down with some more coffee, and then made his way outside. Not wanting to have to move the bodies any further than necessary, he attached his wagon to Bullseye and led his horse behind the shed. He had no choice but to lift the dead men onto the wagon, and although he had the strength to do it, his body protested with every move.
Deadshot couldn’t wait for it all to be over so that he could go back to planting vegetables, fishing, and leisurely rides. The fight had made him feel young again, but his body was reminding him that he was, in fact, forty-nine.
As Deadshot moved the bodies into the wagon, he looked at their faces, but he didn’t recognize any of them. That didn’tmean they weren’t wanted; it just meant that they weren’t wanted from when he was still bounty hunting. He hadn’t really been checking the wanted posters in Sheriff Watkins’ office since he retired.
Chapter 9
Rider had searched for hours, ignoring the pain in his muscles and the emptiness in his belly. Sitting at Sheriff Stewart’s desk, he had cried himself to sleep. When he woke an hour later, there were two pastries on the desk. Sheriff Stewart had come in and told him that everything had been arranged, that they were almost ready to start the search, but that he wanted Rider to eat something first.
Eager to get going, Rider gulped down one of the pastries, but he couldn’t keep it in. Not even a minute later, and much to Sheriff Stewart’s frustration, he vomited all over the front office floor.
Sheriff Stewart hadn’t asked him to eat again until later that night, when all the men who were helping with the search settled around a fire to take a break. Rider had no appetite but managed to keep enough down to placate the sheriff.
They had searched through the night and into the morning but found no sign of his mother or sister. Eventually, the menhad gone home to rest, agreeing to meet at the town center again at noon to continue.
“There has to be someone I can take you to,” Sheriff Stewart said, turning to Rider. “Don’t you have any family in town? An aunt or uncle, maybe?”
Rider shook his head. “No family.”
“You can come home with me. I’m not much of a cook, but I’ll whip us up something to eat, and you can sleep on the couch for a few hours.”
“No, I’m going home.”
Sheriff Stewart looked conflicted. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”
“I’m not staying with you. I have a home,” Rider said again. “I’ll be fine.”
“You promise you’re actually going to get some rest and eat something?”
“Sure,” Rider agreed, although he had no intention of keeping his promise.
Sheriff Stewart agreed reluctantly, and soon enough, Rider was back at the ranch.
The place was still a mess, but Sheriff Stewart had arranged with some of his deputies to remove the bodies the previous day, so at least Rider didn’t have to see them again. The men had also cleaned most of the blood, but the floors were stained in some places. Rider didn’t step on the stains as he walked through his home. He still couldn’t believe what had happened. It felt surreal.
Eventually, he lay down on his parents’ bed and fell asleep. He didn’t intend to, but he couldn’t fight his exhaustion any longer. When he woke, it was dark. He had overslept. He was supposed to meet the search party at noon, and he was late. Feeling like he had let his mother and sister down, Rider sprinted out of the house, jumped onto his horse, and rode to where he hoped to find Sheriff Stewart.
Luckily, the lights of the lanterns were easy to spot in the open prairies, and he felt himself relax just a little as he joined the search. They had gone over every inch of the town the previous day and night. Now, they were searching the prairies and the surrounding ranches and farms. As they moved, they stopped at houses and spoke to the residents, hoping that someone had seen or heard something.
Once again, they came up empty-handed. It was as if his mother and sister had disappeared into thin air. Rider knew what it meant, but he wasn’t willing to accept it, so he kept searching.
Later that night, or rather early the next morning, he went home and started cleaning. He needed the place to look goodas new for when his mother and sister came home. He started by picking up all the broken glass and disposing of it. Then he moved on to righting the furniture. He put every item back in its place, and then he started cleaning.
First, he threw away all the old food, then he washed the dishes and packed them away. When that was done, he cleaned the kitchen counter, the coal stove, and the table. Satisfied with how the kitchen looked, he moved on to the living room. There was a big bloodstain on the carpet, so he spent a really long time scrubbing it. He scrubbed until his arms ached and his hands were raw from holding the brush. The stain grew lighter, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t get it out completely.
Frustrated, he pulled the carpet out of the house and tossed it outside on the ground. He would try to clean it again later or get a new one. He didn’t have any more time to waste. He had a house to clean, and in a couple of hours, he would rejoin the search party, and they would find his mother and sister.
