Ignobles

Chapter 1

The town of Gravestone was no more than 10 years old on the day Andrew Slain climbed onto the saddle of a horse again. Fifth time that week. The vaquero who accompanied him- Arturo de Solar- was far more competent at horse riding, less so at hiding his emotions. The horse Andrew was seated on didn't hide her emotions either. Whenever Andrew yanked on the reins too hard, she would lift her front legs off the ground just enough for Andrew to get the point, and would then refuse to go faster than a trot for about a minute.

He bounced on the horse's saddle as she began to trot, his butt feeling as if he had been beaten with a plank, "Y-you've been doin' th-this fu-fur how long Arturo?"

The vaquero burst out laughing again, and through his bouncing vision, Andrew could see tears sparkling down the man's tan cheeks.

"Fife years," he said, rolling his 'r' heavily.

Andrew tried to nod, but the movement just became one with the bouncing of the horse, "Are we gonna go any faster?"

Arturo nearly fell off his shining brown horse with laughter, "OK Andy, OK. What is it the white men say? You go sand?" He placed his fingers to his mouth and blew a whistle that immediately picked up the horses to a canter.

Andrew looked down the dusty path that snaked ahead of them, lined with talk dry grass that swayed in the wind. The clapping of hoofs against the eroded pathway grew louder as they picked up speed, like distant gunfire. His nostrils quickly picked up more dust, and his body felt rigid as he felt the horse's movements below his saddle move from a bounce to the rise and fall of a see-saw.

The leather reins felt like they were cutting into his hands as he kept a tight hold on them. If he pulled too hard, the horse would simply stop in her tracks.

"W-what," Andrew paused, trying to still himself so his words were less butchered from the jerking, "what's the horse's name?"

Arturo kept to his right, his back straight as a board, drying his tears of laughter with his shoulder, "Paloma, means beautiful dove."

"Aren't doves supposed to be... innocent?"

Arturo shrugged, patting his horse on the shoulder as its mane billowed into his face, "I thought it fit her at de time."

Andrew looked down as he felt the horse slow to a halt, "I didn't yank on ya damn reins Palmo."

"Paloma," Arturo corrected, bringing his horse to a stop as well.

He glanced ahead, shielding his squinted eyes with a hand.

"What's up?" Andrew asked.

Arturo lowered his hand, "We go back."

"We've only been out here for an hour."

"It's fine for now."

Andrew stared out to where Arturo had been looking. Nothing but the winding pathway, long grass, and the odd bone-bare tree.

"Andy," Arturo said, "you sure you want to do this?"

Andrew looked down at his horse's head, between her tear-drop-shaped ears, "Got no other choice Arturo. Family needs feedin.' Little one needs schoolin.' Olivia won't hear of me minin' or huntin.' Buyin' a farm costs money, n' bein' a cowboy is the best way to get some. For now at least."

Arturo's eyes were back on the horizon, not a trace of fear in his look or his voice, "I hope you ready, Andy," Arturo said, his voice a raspy whisper, "Can you see that?"

Andrew looked up, "See what?"

Arturo lifted a finger, his arm stiff, "Over there... beyond the tree."