oom: bisbee, part 2

[lasthalfmile]

The town is quiet, today.

Between the funeral and the heat, most folks are either inside or busy with things. The main street is nearly deserted, as they head down, horses stirring up the soft dust beneath their hoofs as they walk.

The office is at the end of town.

Dan can only hear Mark's voice in his head. So young. So confused.

He keeps one hand on the reins, and the other slides down to his hip and the pistol, fingertips brushing the holster, checking to be sure that familiar weight is still there. He's not planning on killing anyone, but he won't hesitate to threaten with it if he has to.

They head around the back of the office, and Dan signals for them to be quiet. He can hear voices from inside.

"So you say the coach should be in this afternoon?"

"Butterfield himself ordered a new one sent out. I guess he had a back up in case Wade took out the first."

"He's not worried about him now that he's out?"

"He doesn't know. Figured might as well just let him find out when he gets in from Fort Huachuca this afternoon. Guess he wanted to ride with it to make sure it got here in once piece. With Wade's gang gone, should be in right on time."

Dan turns his head and gives Ben a look, as if to ask if he caught all that. The fort was to the west of Bisbee but there was only one way into town through the canyon that was north of Bisbee.

And Ben knew that canyon well.

Comments

[lasthalfmile]

The gun goes back in the holster before Dan ducks into the coach and drops the broken lock onto the floor with a thud. The fact that there's a dead Pinkerton lying beside him doesn't phase him one bit as he opens the door and pulls out the first of the lock boxes.

That is a lot of cash.

"No wonder you do this for a livin', Ben."

Ain't quite as loaded as some coaches run, but he pulls out four boxes total and counts the contents while Ben watches. Half the stack goes into one pile --

"Toss me that bag of yours, would ya?"

-- and the other half is split again. A larger portion and a smaller one.

[almosthonorable]

"Tends to pay pretty well," he deadpans amicably, passing the bag to Dan.

He tilts his head slightly, studying Dan while he breaks down the second stack again.

A pause, then, "Don't think you can hand-deliver that."

[lasthalfmile]

Once the stacks are broken up, Dan puts Ben's half in the saddlebag and then hands it back up to him, as he stands.

"No, don't suppose I can."

The smaller portion is just a few bundles of cash. Enough to last a man of his time plenty if all he's doing is buying drinks and paying for a room in a bar. The larger portion is enough for a family, for awhile, to buy the things they need. Medicine for Mark. New clothes for William. Something nice for Alice.

Dan grabs the bag off his mare which he split the earlier cash into and sorts them. One bag is going back to Milliways with him. The other...

"I need you to go seem them and make sure they get it."

[almosthonorable]

Ben replaces the bag on his saddle and nods, quick and short.

He'll leave the money with Alice and the boys, and get to ensure Butterfield kept his word this time.

He gives Dan a wry half-smile.

"I'm sure Alice'll be real happy to see me at her door."

A beat.

"Might even get another steak outta the deal."

[lasthalfmile]

Dan gives Ben a look, before he hands the second bag over.

"I'm sure she'll be just thrilled."

Don't you try anything, Wade.

And he holds that gaze a moment, before he nods.

"Maybe you just will get another steak." A beat. "Probably be a better one this time 'round."

Since Ben'll be able to cut it himself.

[almosthonorable]

"Won't have your magic touch, though."

Smirk.

He adds the second bag to the load and looks at Dan, his features growing more serious.

"Gonna make sure Butterfield made good on the deal while I'm there."

[lasthalfmile]

"Wouldn't expect anything less."

Dan's look also tells Ben that if Mr. Butterfield didn't make good on that deal, well.

That isn't for polite company.

Then again, Ben isn't polite company.

[almosthonorable]

He's not.

He's infamous — famous — for that.

The hard look in Dan's eyes makes Ben think Dan could be (could've been) his own brand of infamous, if life had been just a little bit different.

"I know. S'what I like about you, Dan."

Ben swings into the saddle, taking one more look around the canyon.

"Headin' back to the bar now?"

[lasthalfmile]

"Reckon it's gettin' close to cuttin' it."

He feels solid enough, still.

Dan loops the reins off the branch and pulls himself up into the saddle, and once he's set, he looks around at the coach and the bodies lying in the dirt.

In the dust. Blood soaking red.

The image doesn't bother him, like it would have the day before.

He's not sure why.

(Maybe it's because he was the one doing the shooting.)

[almosthonorable]

"It'd hurt my feelin's, not seein' you when I get back."

He turns his horse toward the south, toward Bisbee.

Toward the Evans ranch.

If he rides hard, he might even catch that son of a bitch Butterfield while he's paying Alice.

(If he is, which he damn well better.)

Ben adjusts his hat.

"Well, now."

A grin.

"This was fun."

[lasthalfmile]

"I'll buy you a drink when you get back."

Dan nods a bit as he adjusts his own hat. He'll head north, back towards the top end of the canyon. Catch a door near Contention, maybe. He's not sure why but that's where his heart is telling him to head.

He smiles, just a bit.

"Maybe we'll do it again sometime," he says, and he means it.

Fingers curl around leather reins, and he holds Ben's gaze a minute before he turns his mare around and then digs his heels into the stirrups, clicking to her quietly, moving to head towards the north.

Then he stops, and turns to glance at Ben over his shoulder.

"Thanks, Wade."

A nod, a smile, and then he turns and rides out.