Jumping off his horse, he turned to Deadshot. “He’s here,” he said as he tied his horse to the hitching post. “That’s his horse.”
Deadshot didn’t say anything but got off his horse and followed Rider inside.
***
Deadshot listened as the kid explained to the sheriff what had happened. Every now and then, the sheriff would glance at Deadshot. It looked like he wanted to ask him something, but he never did.
Sheriff Stewart was young. Deadshot had met a lot of sheriffs throughout the years, but judging by how the man looked, it was safe to assume that he had gotten the position after Deadshot had retired. Despite being young, he seemeddedicated to his job. The kid had said that the sheriff was always there before sunrise, which wasn’t something a lot of people were willing to do. The man also jumped into action immediately after hearing the kid’s story.
Considering the circumstances, Sheriff Stewart wanted to gather two of his deputies first. Luckily, they lived on the way, and it didn’t waste a lot of time.
Deadshot really wanted to go home. It had been a long night, and every inch of his body was aching. He wasn’t used to all the fighting anymore, and his body was making sure that he knew it. He didn’t regret helping the kid, but he was going to feel the repercussions for days, maybe even weeks.
He was mentally and physically exhausted, and all he wanted was a warm cup of coffee and his bed. Instead, he was following the kid, the sheriff, and two deputies back to the kid’s ranch. He hadn’t planned on returning with them, but the kid had asked him to, and for some reason, he couldn’t bring himself to say no. It was ridiculous, actually, but Deadshot put it down to how much the kid and the situation reminded him of his younger self.
By the time they arrived at the ranch, the sun was up. Birds were chirping as if nothing had happened. To them, it was just another day, but for Rider, things would never be the same.
Sheriff Stewart and his deputies started searching the house immediately and then extended it to the rest of the property. The kid walked with him, his body rigid and his face pale.Deadshot didn’t join the search. He knew they weren’t going to find anything, and if they did, it would be the women’s bodies. He didn’t want to be there for that. He had done what he could, but now it was in Sheriff Stewart’s hands.
Deadshot’s throat was dry, and he desperately needed a break, so he made himself some coffee, figuring that nobody would mind, and not really caring if they did. With a warm cup in his hand, he found a chair and sat down in the middle of the kitchen. All around him, things lay scattered and broken. He took a sip of his coffee and closed his eyes, allowing the rich aroma to work its magic.
By the time the sheriff and his deputies gathered in the kitchen, Deadshot felt a little better. Not much, but enough to get him back home. The kid looked even worse than before. His spirit had been broken. In one night, he had lost everything. Deadshot couldn’t look at him for too long, so instead, he focused his attention on Sheriff Stewart as he told them what Deadshot already knew. These kinds of things almost always had the same outcome. For the kid’s sake, he hoped that this time was different.
“The rest of the bandits are probably long gone already,” Sheriff Stewart said. “As for your mother and sister, there are only two options.”
The kid swayed on his feet, clutching his hands nervously in front of him. “What are they?”
“Well...” the sheriff hesitated, looking toward Deadshot as if asking for help.
Deadshot nodded, encouraging him to continue. There was no point in hiding the truth from the kid.
“The first and most likely scenario is that the bandits murdered your mother and sister and dumped their bodies somewhere.”
The kid steadied himself against the coal stove.
“The other possibility is that the bandits abducted them and have them with them, wherever they are,” Sheriff Stewart continued. “We’ll arrange a search of the whole town. If by some miracle they are still alive, we’ll find them. If they’re not, we’ll find their bodies.”
“What if we don’t find them at all?” the kid asked. “What if the bandits abducted them?”
Sheriff Stewart shook his head. He was clearly having a difficult time explaining the situation to the kid. “I’ll notify all the surrounding towns of what happened and ask them to be on the lookout for them, but I have to warn you, if that is the case, it is highly unlikely that they’ll ever be found.”
“We have to find them,” the kid insisted, his voice filled with terror.
“We’ll do everything we can,” Sheriff Stewart assured him. “Did you perhaps get a good look at any of the bandits? Maybe someone we’ll be able to recognize?”
The kid’s expression changed as he nodded. “Yes, there was one man,” he replied. “I think he was the leader. He wore a patch over his left eye and had scars running down his face. They looked like claw marks.”
Deadshot sucked in his breath, immediately knowing who the kid was talking about. From the corner of his eye, he could see Sheriff Stewart’s expression changing as well. The sheriff obviously knew who the kid was talking about, too.
Deadshot looked at Sheriff Stewart. “Quincy Callaway.”
“Sounds like it,” the sheriff agreed, not looking happy about this new revelation at all.
“Who’s that?” the kid asked.
“A notorious bandit,” Sheriff Stewart replied. “Now tell me, do you have somewhere we can take you? Relatives or friends, maybe?”
“No, I’m coming with you. I want to help with the search.”
