From Home to High Plains

The Heist

I spent the rest of the day in my room, alone and sulking. Clara brought dinner to my room and tried to question my attitude change, but I quickly shut the door. I felt angry at her, too, even though she didn't do anything wrong.

What is wrong with me?

I picked myself up off of my bed to go look out the window. The full moon was out, shining bright light across the town. Millions of stars dotted the sky, more than I had ever seen. I spent a few moments trying to find constellations before returning to my current predicament.

I was going to leave tomorrow.

I didn't want to be around this town anymore; I was too upset. I had thought a lot about this over the last few hours, and I had concluded that I'd probably wake up, or jump forward in time, as soon as I left town. I had much more important things to think about rather than some Marshal in some make-believe world I'd concocted, things like Calculus, midterms, the rest of my life. I needed to get back home.

Laying back on the bed, I closed my eyes and drifted off to sleep. 

~

I woke up later than I had the day before. The sun was already up, and when I opened my door there was a tray of breakfast that Clara had left for me. I pulled it into my room and ate alone.

After I finished eating, I dressed, wearing the same green skirt and blouse I had worn earlier. Looking in the mirror, I smoothed out the dress before moving on to my hair, which was in desperate need of a wash.

I can't wait to take a shower, I thought while French-braiding my hair. I took one last look in the mirror before gathering my stuff and leaving my room.

Walking down the hallway and towards the door, I saw Clara out of the corner of my eye. She was sitting down behind the desk, knitting what appeared to be a blanket. 

"Thank you, Clara." I said, moving towards her, "I'm leaving soon, do I owe you anything?" I reached for the money the Marshal had shoved in my hand, the only money I had. 

She looked up from her project, and smiled, a sad look in her eyes. "No, Matthew took care of it. I wish you safe travels, dear." 

I nodded, opening the door and walking out onto the boardwalk.

I looked up and down the street. I wanted to say goodbye to Johnny, but I didn't want to see the Marshal again. His words still stung, although deep down I knew he was right. It was only a matter of time before I caught a stray bullet.

I adjusted my hold on the bag Clara had given me, waiting for the stagecoach to arrive. After a few more minutes, the rattling of the wheels and rhythmic thudding of horse hooves alerted me to it's arrival. 

When the stagecoach stopped, a few people got out. The two men driving the coach got down, and I handed one of them the rest of the money the Marshal had given me. He helped me onto the step and in the coach, and I sat, looking out the window and waiting to be back home.

Around ten minutes later, two of the men who had gotten off earlier returned to their place in the stagecoach and we were off, heading east and out of this small, lonely, violent town. 

~

Across from me sat a scowling man, who was probably in his 30s, with a large handlebar moustache and dark, slicked back hair. He had a bowler hat on, and I assumed he was from some big city. 

Beside me sat an old man, his ash gray hair peaking out from his brown wide-brimmed hat. At first glance, I liked him more than the man in the bowler hat. He appeared nicer, kinder.