The Long Trail Home by Stephen A. Bly

rubbed his chin and studied the wild, dark clouds backing up toward Antelope Flats. “It would be over five hundred dollars, even if we kept the two best.”
    â€œNow, that sounds better. Maybe our luck is turnin’.”
    â€œI’m takin’ Ladosa to Dodge, Kiowa.”
    â€œYou ain’t gettin’ honest on me, are you, Sam Fortune?”
    â€œI just don’t feel like breakin’ that promise. Lookin’ at Piney today . . . I don’t want to disappoint any more ladies. Maybe after we deliver her we can come back and break those ponies.”
    Kiowa paused at the well. Both men put one boot on the rim to strap on spurs. “I figured with that carbine in hand, you’d be in a hurry to go home to the Black Hills,” Kiowa probed.
    â€œMy home was in Coryell County, Texas. You know that.”
    â€œBut they took it away from you.”
    â€œMama’s buried there—bless her soul—so I guess it will always be home. I’ve never even been to the Black Hills. I didn’t go see Daddy when he was alive; I reckon it’s too late now.”
    â€œYou gettin’ melancholy on me, amigo?”
    â€œNope. We make our choices, and we pay the price. That’s the way life is, Kiowa. And today I choose to take tiny little Ladosa up to Dodge City. That’s all there is to it.”
    The strong-shouldered, dark-skinned man pushed his hat back. “Maybe I’ll mosey over to the Ohaysis. No reason to hold onto this last two bits.”
    â€œYou goin’ to talk to Rocklin about those ponies?” Sam asked.
    â€œI might as well find out what the story is. I didn’t promise to take no one to Dodge, remember? Who’s marshal up there now?”
    â€œDoes it matter?”
    â€œI reckon not.”
    â€œI’ll go see how Ladosa and Piney are doin’. Then I’ll come bail you out of the ruckus you always get yourself in.”
    Kiowa roared, “That’s good, Sammy. Because if them two women start fightin’ over you, you ain’t goin’ to get one lick of help from me.”
    Spurs jingled as Sam Fortune hiked to the cabins, bullet boxes in one hand, carbine in the other. The wind had suddenly stopped, and the menacing clouds from the plains crept toward Antelope Flats. The air felt as explosive as if waiting for someone to light a sulfur match.
    A very short lady with long, black hair slipped out the front door as he approached. Ladosa motioned for them to sit on the steps.
    â€œHow’s Piney?” he asked.
    â€œShe’s clean and sleepin’. I don’t think she’s been home for several days.”
    â€œShe can’t remember where she lives, Ladosa.”
    â€œShe was rememberin’ pretty good awhile ago. She remembered you and her dancin’.”
    â€œDown the street?”
    Ladosa slipped her arm in his. “No, at Fort Worth in the spring of ’79.”
    â€œShe can remember that?”
    â€œYes, and she remembers the men who kicked her head in.”
    â€œShe didn’t fall off a wagon, did she?” he asked.
    Ladosa shook her head and brushed back a tear.
    â€œThey still around? I’d like to pay them a visit,” he growled.
    â€œSome say they rode out to New Mexico. One man is missin’ middle fingers on both hands, and another wears gold earrings, like a pirate.”
    Sam’s clenched knuckles turned white. “Maybe God will open up the pits of hell and drop them in.”
    â€œDo you believe in God, Sammy?”
    The edge melted from his voice. “Ever’body believes in God.”
    â€œThat’s not what I mean. Do you believe that God has a plan for your life?”
    â€œLadosa, are you preachin’ at me?”
    â€œMaybe. Maybe I’m preachin’ at myself.”
    â€œWhere did all this come from?”
    â€œI ain’t goin’ to Dodge City with you and Kiowa,” she announced.
    â€œWe were only