Deadshot placed his lantern on the table and lit the stove. He was hungry and in desperate need of coffee. Once the water was boiling, he started preparing the oats. It was a filling meal and a good way to start the day. It didn’t take long, and soon enough, Deadshot placed two bowls of oats and two cups of coffee on the small wooden table.
It was still early, and the kid was sleeping on the couch. Deadshot had given him a blanket and a pillow after they had eaten and then escaped to his room. They hadn’t spoken much as they ate, mostly because Deadshot wolfed down his food sothat he didn’t have to engage in any more conversation. The kid tried, though. He was a stubborn boy who refused to give up. Deadshot couldn’t blame him for wanting to save his mother and sister. He wished he had somebody to help him when his family had been murdered.
He had been so young, and there had been no way for him to get revenge. He had endless nightmares after the attack. The image of the outlaw who had murdered his family was engraved in his mind, but he had never come across him again. Even during his time as a bounty hunter, he had never seen him or come across a wanted picture with his face on it. Getting revenge would have eased something inside him, but it simply wasn’t meant to be. Maybe he could give that to the kid and somehow, in the process, rid himself of some of the guilt he had been carrying around with him all these years for not having been able to save his own family.
Deadshot walked over to the kid and shook his shoulder. “Wake up.”
The kid stirred, groaned, and then sat bolt upright, confusion clear on his face. Deadshot almost laughed at how comical it looked but managed to suppress it.
“Breakfast is on the table,” Deadshot informed him before making his way back to the kitchen and taking a seat. Not even a minute later, the kid joined him.
“Thank you,” the kid said, taking a bite of his oats without complaint.
Deadshot didn’t reply. He wasn’t much of a talker and had no idea what to say to a kid. Sure, he was once that age, but that was a really long time ago.
“I’ll help you,” Deadshot finally said when they were done eating.
The kid’s head whipped up, his eyes big as they landed on Deadshot. “Really?”
Deadshot nodded. “Yeah, guess I had a change of heart.”
“Thank you!” the kid exclaimed as he jumped up and ran to the couch, grabbing the saddlebag. He dashed back to Deadshot and stuffed the bag into his arms. “Thank you so much. You can have the horse, too, or anything I have at the ranch that you want.”
The kid was overexcited and rambling, so Deadshot cut him off. “I don’t want the gold or anything else.”
“I don’t understand.”
Deadshot stood up, handed the bag back to the kid, and started clearing the table. “It’s really not that complicated,” he pointed out. “I’m going to track down Quincy, find out what happened to your mother and sister, and I don’t need any payment.” He hesitated for a second and then added, “I should probably take the gold with me, just in case.”
Deadshot was hoping the kid wouldn’t ask why, and to his relief, the kid didn’t.
“Of course, whatever you need,” the kid agreed immediately. “I’ll just have to go home to pack my things. I don’t even know what to bring. I’ve never gone on a mission like—”
Deadshot held up his hand, cutting him off. “Hold on. You want to come with?”
“I have to,” the kid replied. “I can’t just wait around at home for who knows how long. I’d go insane.”
Deadshot fully understood, but taking the kid with him complicated things significantly. It was going to be a dangerous journey, and Deadshot would be responsible for keeping the kid safe. He wanted to refuse and tell the kid that there was no way he was going with him, but instead, he agreed. It was something that the kid had to do. “It’s going to be dangerous,” he said, voicing his thoughts. “I’ll try to keep you safe, but I can’t guarantee anything.”
“It’s all right. I understand,” the kid replied immediately. “I’m old enough to take care of myself.”
Deadshot raised a brow. “Just how old are you exactly?”
“Fourteen,” the kid said. “My birthday is in two months.”
Deadshot could remember being that age. His body was still fresh and young, and it felt like he could do anything. “That’s a good age. Appreciate it while you can.”
The kid nodded. “If you say so.”
“Trust me, when you get to your forties, you’re gonna miss being this young.”
“Maybe.” The kid shrugged, still clutching the gold. “My name’s Rider Ripley, by the way. I don’t think I’ve ever actually introduced myself.”
Like his age, it was a good name, strong and bold. “Well, I’d say it’s a pleasure to meet you,” Deadshot replied. “But so far, you’ve brought me nothing but trouble.”
“Don’t forget about the gold. I’ve brought that too,” the kid pointed out.
“Like I said, I don’t want or need the gold.” Deadshot turned on his heels and headed toward his room. “I need to pack. We’ll gather everything we need, go to town for supplies, and then to your ranch to get your things.”
