"Everyone and their grandma's gonna know your name, son. What you did for this town will be remembered for generations," Malloy said as he and Cain helped townsfolk clear splinters and blood from the boardwalk.
Cain shrugged, the action feeling smaller than the words. "Don't know about generations. I do know the O'Driscolls are gonna be hunting for me now."
He was right. The next morning, Cain found his face in the state paper, a grainy photograph of him, Harris, Colt, and Malloy posed like a tableau of gunmetal and dust. The headline sang praise; the copy leaned hard on Cain's part in the fight. No grand lies, at least, just facts sharpened for print.
Malloy summoned Cain to the office. He placed a fat envelope on the desk. "From the government. A thank-you for your service." Four hundred dollars lay inside.
Cain folded the bills into his satchel without flair. (Money: $1,060.)
Malloy hesitated a beat, then pulled a wanted poster from a drawer and set it in front of him. Cain stared at his own face on paper, the hardened look, the X-scar marked clear as if carved there for notices.
"Why the hell do I have a bounty on my head? I thought I did good," Cain said, half-laughing, half-raw.
"We didn't put that up," Malloy said, jaw tight. "Don't know who did. Official-looking, though. Colm's got friends in places you don't want to meet. He slips a coin, a name moves, and suddenly you're a wanted man."
Cain flicked a thumb over the number. "Great.... my head's worth one hundred and fifty dollars." He glanced up, dry. 'If my math's right, that'd be about, what, five thousand plus in 2025.'
Malloy's look softened, then hardened. "What's the next step?"
Cain folded the poster and slid it into his satchel next to his money and ammo. He felt the weight of it all, coin, bullets, paper, tucked against his ribs. "Be on the move," he said. "Bounty hunters'll start combing the place when word spreads. I don't want to be found waiting in Valentine."
"You won't like that life, son," Malloy warned, low and honest.
Cain met the sheriff's eyes and let a small smile crack. "Most likely not. But it's high time I started seeing what's out there."
Malloy nodded once, the motion full of things unsaid. The office felt smaller for a second, the lamplight throwing long shadows. Cain shouldered his pack, Mabel's quiet breath outside the door waiting like a steady promise. He walked out into the noon sun, a man with a name in the papers, a price on his head, and the road ahead open as a blade.
.....
Cain packed the few belongings he owned, his coat, a spare shirt, a tin of bullets, a knife, his coffee pot from Amos, and a couple of books, The Count of Monte Cristo among them. Everything else stayed behind. He never really had much, and what little he did wasn't worth the trouble of dragging into the unknown.
Before leaving town, he made one last stop, Amos' stable. The air smelled of hay and saddle leather, the same scent that greeted him the day he first arrived in Valentine, lost and broke. Amos was brushing down a horse when he turned, his weathered face creasing into a knowing look.
"So it's true then," Amos said quietly. "You're leavin'."
Cain nodded, running a hand through Mabel's mane. "I'll come back. But this place'll be crawling with bounty hunters before long. It's best if I stay on the move for a while."
Amos leaned against a post, letting out a slow sigh. "You done more good for this town than most men with badges ever did. Ain't right how things turned out."
Cain smiled faintly. "Since when's life ever been right?"
The older man chuckled under his breath, then extended his hand. "Where you headin' now?"
"Roanoke Ridge," Cain replied, shaking his hand firmly. "Lots of places to see. Figure I might as well start somewhere quiet."
Amos gave a nod, his voice low but proud. "You always had that wanderer's look in your eye. Just don't lose yourself out there, son. The world's a big place, and it eats men who forget who they are."
Cain climbed into Mabel's saddle, the leather creaking softly under him. "I'll remember," he said, tipping his hat.
As he rode out of Valentine, the rising dust caught the early light, and the faint sound of the town faded behind him. Ahead lay open country, the promise of freedom, the shadow of danger, and the road that would make or break him.
...
Cain leaned against the splintered wall of an old trading post, the wood groaning softly beneath his weight. The place looked like it hadn't seen life in years, windows boarded, roof half-collapsed, a faint smell of rot lingering in the humid air. Mabel grazed quietly by the overgrown trail, tail swishing lazily against the gnats.
He'd found the place by chance, following a faded signpost that pointed toward nowhere. Inside, he discovered a small stash under a loose floorboard, fifteen dollars wrapped in a piece of oilcloth, probably hidden by some desperate soul long gone. On a shelf above the old bedroll, he found a dusty bottle of gin and a few cans of spoiled beans. He left them where they were, but a small playing card caught his eye, Gems of Beauty Card No. 2: Isabelle Barlow.
He turned it between his fingers, faintly amused. "Ain't much of a treasure, but it'll do," he muttered, slipping it into his satchel.
Outside, the afternoon light filtered through the canopy, warm and heavy. Roanoke Ridge stretched endlessly around him, steep, humid hills thick with pines and fog, the air rich with the scent of moss and wet stone. It was wild country, rough and beautiful in equal measure. Somewhere beneath these hills, men dug for coal and gold, carving into the bones of the land for their fortunes.
Cain watched the mist roll through the valley, thinking how small he felt out here. Alone, yet never unobserved, at least that's how it seemed.
He hadn't crossed paths with bounty hunters yet. But that didn't ease him. It only made him warier.
"They'll come," he said quietly to himself, watching Mabel lift her head at the sound of his voice. "Just a matter of when."
For now, the silence was his companion, the kind that pressed in, heavy and endless, like the forest itself was holding its breath.
(Money: $1075)
To be continued...