The kid was panicking, and for good reason. A raid on a ranch hardly ever ended well. “Getting supplies,” Deadshot replied. He never went into any situation unprepared. “I take it you were riding at full speed all the way. How long did it take you to get here?”
The kid didn’t answer, and Deadshot glanced over his shoulder as he pushed open his door. “How long?”
“I... I don’t know. A couple of hours.”
Deadshot stepped into his house and immediately made his way to his bedroom.
“It’s too long, isn’t it?” the kid asked.
Deadshot shrugged. The answer was yes, but he didn’t speak the words. “We’ll see,” he said instead.
Once in his room, Deadshot stripped out of his sleep clothes and got dressed in something more suitable for hunting down criminals. Next, he fastened his gun belt around his waist, holstered his Colt Army on the right, his bowie knife on the left, and secured his Winchester rifle to the sling on his back. The rifle was still new. It had only become available a coupleof months back, but he had fallen in love with it. Up until he purchased his prized possession, he had made use of his Hawken rifle for hunting. He still loved his Hawken, but the Winchester was much more accurate.
While preparing for his little unexpected adventure, Deadshot kept an eye on the kid. He hadn’t said a word and was watching Deadshot intently. It made Deadshot feel a little uncomfortable, but there wasn’t anything he could do about it. He wasn’t exactly going to leave the kid outside, although he had considered it.
Deadshot never had any kids. He never wanted them and still didn’t. He could remember being a child, but as he grew up and became a bounty hunter, he became more and more isolated as he traveled and hunted. He hardly spent any time with people his own age, let alone children.
Frowning, he turned to the kid. “What’s your name?” He couldn’t remember whether the boy had told him or not, and it honestly didn’t really matter. He wasn’t good with names, but he never forgot a face.
“Rider Ripley,” the kid replied as Deadshot grabbed his coat and marched out the door.
Once again, he could hear the kid following after him. It was an interesting name; maybe he would remember it. It didn’t matter. He would never see the kid again after this was over.
“I’m gonna get my horse,” Deadshot informed the kid.
During the day, he allowed Bullseye to roam the little clearing surrounding the cabin, but at night, his trusted horse slept in the small stables Deadshot had behind the cabin. The wooden door creaked on its hinges as Deadshot pushed it open and stepped inside. “We’re going for a late-night ride,” he told Bullseye. The horse neighed softly. “That’s my boy. Always up for an adventure.” Deadshot smiled to himself as he made quick work of preparing Bullseye.
Once that was done, he led his horse out of the stables and mounted him. He wasn’t worried about traveling far with Bullseye. Despite having retired from bounty hunting, Deadshot still went riding often. Bullseye was fit and ready for anything Deadshot threw at him. Deadshot wasn’t so sure about his own body, though. His knee was on fire.
The kid, whose name he had already forgotten, was waiting for him anxiously. He couldn’t blame him, although Deadshot reckoned that it didn’t really matter whether they took their time or not. The raid happened hours ago, and bandits didn’t just wait around afterward. Usually, they were in and out as quickly as possible. They killed, took what they wanted, and seldom left anybody alive. Deadshot had witnessed the aftermath of many ranch attacks and knew exactly what they were going to find.
Chapter 4
They set off with a gallop. Deadshot was going fast, but not as fast as he knew Bullseye could go. He was willing to push his horse, but not beyond breaking his breaking point. The kid kept up with him easily. His horse was fit and probably a little too big for him. It was a remarkable animal.
Deadshot went over everything that the kid had said to him in his head, but something didn’t add up. It didn’t make sense that the bandits chased the kid so far. Even if they were worried about him escaping and alerting the law, they wouldn’t have chased him for hours. No, there was definitely more to the story. Those bandits were trying to kill the kid. It didn’t make sense.
He needed answers before they got to the kid’s ranch. Deadshot had to know what he was walking into, so he slowed down slightly. The kid glanced over his shoulder and then slowed down too, matching Deadshot’s speed.
“Why are we slowing down?” the kid asked.
Deadshot did not answer him. “Why were the bandits chasing you?” he asked the kid instead.
“I already told you,” the kid replied, sounding frustrated.
“No, that can’t be all. They chased you all the way to my cabin. They wanted to kill you. There must be another reason.”
“I don’t know.” The kid shook his head, and then, as if remembering something, his eyes lit up. “This isn’t my horse. I took one of theirs. My horse was in the corral, and I didn’t have time to get it.”
“So, you stole one of the bandits’ horses?”
The kid nodded. “Yes. You think that’s why they wanted to kill me?”
The bandits were raiding the kid’s family ranch. Deadshot doubted that they would be too concerned about losing one horse. It was a beautiful animal, but still, there would be many horses for them to take at a ranch. Sure, whoever’s horse it was might be a little angry, but not enough to chase down the kid for miles.
“No.” Deadshot shook his head. “You have horses on the ranch. They could have just taken them.”
The kid looked at the horse beneath him. “Then why did they chase me?”
