Pale Horse, Robert L. Ross [beach read book .TXT] 📗

Slamming the whiskey back once more, she began to tell them the purpose of her visit. “I was bringing the girls fresh towels after I had drawn the two of them a bath, and as I was about to knock on their door, I heard, whom I now believe, was the Indian girl crying and telling her friend that she didn't know how she was going to be able to tell her family that she had been raped by the men that held them captive. I stood there in shock, contemplating on telling her of my experience with the same doubt and fears I had from an unfortunate incident in my past.” Pale Horse, although he had already been told this earlier by Colt, began pacing the floor at the disturbing news, visually upset as he was being reminded of what had happened to his sister, but still listening to what Mrs. Kuplenger had to say. As the lady went on, the sheriff poured each of his visitors a full glass of whiskey, offering Pale Horse the first, then passing the remaining ones to the rest. “I knocked on the door, and started to pretend I hadn't heard anything they had discussed between them, but my heart wouldn't let me be, so I sat down on the bed beside the both of them and told them of my own experience, to hopefully ease her burden a bit. Before we were through talking, not only had the Indian girl volunteered her story, but the blonde girl did as well, and it was no different than the other. Colt stood up calmly upon hearing this and asked, “Do you know which one's in particular abused these girls?” Cynthia, looking down at her near empty glass she was holding, waited for a few seconds before raising it to her lips, and upon finishing it, looked over at Pale Horse, and then back at Colt and said, “All of them.” The room went dead silent. After a long pause, the woman stood and spoke once more. “And just so that you know, each of the girls went into detail as to how this Walters fella was exceptionally cruel to them, slapping, punching, and kicking them while he held them captive, I only tell you this because I assume you'll be hunting these sick creatures down, and I'd like to know that they'll receive their just rewards for the damage they've done to them girls.” Colt, out of gratitude and sadness for what the lady had been through herself, and for having the fortitude to tell them the story, hugged the woman and thanked her sincerely. Pale Horse thanked the woman as well, then nodded at the sheriff as he walked out into the evening with a heart full of vengeance and an anger that calmly emanated from every pore of his being.
Both men knew that the women had been raped by the two cowboys they had dealt with in the desert, but they didn't know that every one of Shane Walters men had abused them in the same manner, or had physically beat them as they had done. Colt was upset as well at the news they had just learned, and while walking next to his silent friend towards the hotel, he said aloud to himself, but also for his friend to hear, “That's why the girls are so determined to go with us.” As this point was being thought about and accepted, Colt added, “I need a refill on my flask for the road ahead, and I'm thinking another belt or two wouldn't hurt either of us none.” Unspoken and silent still, Pale Horse and his friend turned towards the saloon and walked up to the bar upon entering it. “Make it four shots of Irish Jack's barkeep,” Colt said. The bartender brought the shots over, and set them down in front of the two men. As Pale Horse reached for the first one, a drunken fool stumbled carelessly behind him, and bumped his arm as we was pouring the whiskey within, spilling the lot of it down the front of his vest, and the rest onto the bar. The man, inebriated and staggering, looked over at Pale Horse, and seeing what he had done, merely laughed it off and ordered another beer. With the anger subdued to this point, the volcano that was the heart of the mountaineer quickly erupted, as Pale Horse grabbed the fool by the back of the neck and slammed his face into the edge of the bar, breaking his nose and relieving him of the yellowed teeth that were no longer rotting foul within his mouth, before tossing him through the batwings and into the street. Pale Horse casually returned and drank the other shot that awaited him at the bar. Colt never flinched or said a word, knowing the foolish and careless man just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.
After their shots of Jacks were gone, Colt tossed the 4 bits owed onto the bar, and the two again headed towards the hotel. “I'm of the mind we don't say anything to the girls about the information we've gotten, as not to upset them anymore than they already are,” Colt said to his friend. “Agreed,” he replied, knowing his partner was right.
The two men were walking into the hotel as the two girls were making their way down the stairs for the lobby, ready to hit the trail. “Looks like the two of you are ready to go,” said Pale Horse as they joined them and walked out of the hotel. “The first thing we're gonna have to do is buy the two of you some horses,” Colt said as they made their way for the stables.
The hostler approached them and asked if he could help them, figuring they needed a stall for the two horses that followed. “Yes, we need two of the finest horses you've got,” Colt answered back to the man. The fella, pulling at his overalls pointed to the side of the building and said “The horses for buying and choosing are around there, take your time, find the one's you want, I've got new and used saddles and tack to choose from just inside when you're ready to settle up.” They walked around to the side of the place, and before anyone could say a single word, Winter Crow spoke up immediately and pointed out the one she wanted. It was a beautiful Paint, young and strong. A burnt brown color swept throughout his underside while bright white adorned the rest of him. Pale Horse knew this would be the horse she chose, for she had another just like it at home. She fell in love with the Painted horse because of the one their father had when they both were just children. The painted colts had always been her favorite. Temperance walked throughout the corral, examining each horse that she considered carefully, as her father had taught her as a child. As Temperance was looking over the horses, Colt and Pale horse had already purchased the horses, saddles and such to go along with them. After 15 minutes of looking over the several she wanted to choose from, she chose a mustang as dark black as a moonless winter night. “This will be the one,” she said as she led it to the separate corral for saddling.
Pale Horse, upon seeing their business with the hostler was complete, suggested to the others that they be on their way, “Because every minute passed, was further and further the bandits would be once they began their pursuit”. Looking over the back of the black mustang at Pale Horse as he was saddling Winter Crow's new Paint for her, Colt spoke up and said, “There's only a few hours of daylight left, but I figure if we have a steady pace under us, we can put a nice piece behind us before having to set up camp, and if the moon is full as it was last night, we can ride even further.”“That sounds like a plan to me, replied Pale Horse as he continued, “I hope you girls are up to it, there will be little time to stop until we know we're on their trail.” “Don't you worry about us, it'll be the two of you trying to keep up with us,” Temperance said as she smiled at her friend Winter Crow, who smiled in return as to say she was up for the challenge before them. A quick stop at the general store for some supplies, and the four had began tracking and hunting down the men responsible for the crimes, pain and tears that seemed to follow them whenever they went, except this time, Lightning Colt Mathews and Pale Horse Rankin were on their trail, and there would be no more after they had caught up with them.
The suns brightness had all but faded as they began to head due south in search of their prey. The coolness expected with the dying of the summer rays began to wash over the riders, giving them and each of their horses that extra strength and desire needed to make up lost ground at the quickened pace they had set for themselves. Heavy hooves seemed to strike the ground with deadly purpose, clawing at the upturned earth as their beasts dug in hard with necks stretched full and nostrils flared for the extra oxygen required to keep the pace steady and ever forward.
After a couple of hours had been put behind them, Pale Horse noticed that the tracks they had been following were beginning to slow, meaning the last one that rode through here either slowed down deliberately, feeling confident that no-one was following him, or that he had pushed his horse further than it was able to go, and would no doubt be on foot somewhere up ahead. With that in mind, although the moon was nowhere near as bright as it had been the night before, and the clouds were moving across it, bringing more darkness than light, Pale Horse suggested that the others set up camp while he pushed ahead another half mile or so to see if anyone was on foot, or if he could find anymore tracks. Colt stayed behind with the girls, and began combing the open prairie for twigs, fallen branches and such to start their campfire, while both of the girls went through the recently bought supplies and put together a meal for the four of them. Pale Horse hadn't gone far when the moon had all but completely disappeared behind a dense bank of heavy clouds, and the trail, and what dimly lit tracks he was following vanished with the onset of complete darkness. Always prepared, he reached into his saddlebags and removed torn strips of ragged cloth, fashioned them around a branch, and used the makeshift torch to see his way back into camp.
Back in camp, the dancing flames of the campfire burning, lit up the near moonless night, while eggs were scrambled and being cooked, with strips of lean bacon sizzling on the side. The bedrolls were all laid out for their comfort, and the horses weary, had all been watered and fed. Colt quickly pulled his pistol at the sound of his friend coming back into camp. “Pale Horse?” he asked the darkness that rustled in front of him. “Colt Mathews!” answered the familiar and welcomed voice right back. Pale Horse and Spirit made the rest of the way into camp, where upon Winter Crow walked up to them, gave Spirit a couple of day old biscuits, and lead him over with the rest of the horses, where she proceeded to unsaddle him and brush him down before tying him off to graze with the others. Sitting down and stretching