He had been in Denver City a week ago posting flyers to announce his candidacy for the City Council when he ran across a flyer on the same corkboard bulletin by the courthouse announcing a horse auction. There was supposed to be some pretty good stock in there and he wondered if he could stud out Wabash to a few more mares this breeding season. He marked a place on the calendar and made it a point to stop by and give the animals a look, his hands were to stay in his pockets at all times because if it was one thing or another Henry Scarborough was known for, it was buying shit on impulse. The dapples and bays, chestnuts and greys passed by him one by one in the back of the ring, owners parading the creatures around to show off their breeding. A few moved the way his wife’s horses did, that exaggerated high action of a fine Kentucky Saddler. Some were parked out, Tennessee Walkers, Thoroughbreds, Morgans, Clydesdales, Shires, Percherons, ponies for the kids. Then there was the back of the lot, standing in mud and shit these poor rundown nags had probably been here for weeks, maybe a month and change waiting to be sold more than likely to the knackery where they would become dog food.

He was a pathetic looking animal, rundown to the nubs by a desperate man and then sold into business with the cabbies in Denver where he plodded up and down the cobblestone streets all day, every day until he was used up and sold on. He pinned his ears back when Henry stopped to look at him, that dull and dying look in his eye as the man’s own took in the sight of the protruding ribs and hips. His paperwork painted him as a horse that was far younger than he looked, a Percheron Thoroughbred cross, possibly a mistake? Looking back through the sire’s pedigree it looked like he could be traced back through Kingston so maybe daddy was a race horse, but at least it wasn’t a Percheron sire and a champion Thoroughbred dam. But this meant this unlucky fellow was a distant relative of Wabash whose dam sire was Kingston.

The banker knew he shouldn’t have stayed, but goddammit if he didn’t stay to watch the horses sell. They came through the ring until they got to that demon crossbred, covered in dried mud and manure, cakes of it matted into his tail and mane it appeared no one had dared to clean him up at all and now Henry knew why. The starting bid was typical slaughterhouse price, twenty dollars. A heavyset fellow who had been buying up the heavier rundown cab horses lifted his hand without hesitation, eyeing the animal as if he planned on eating him himself. After a moment of tension as the horse continued to circle the ring trying to bite his handler and only receiving a harsh yank on that stud chain Henry lifted his hand and outbid the butcher at twenty-five dollars.

Everything from the train ride home to trying to “break” an already broken horse did not go well. Henry stupidly opted to ride in the car with the horse on the way home to soothe the savage beast with his company and the satanic animal seemed so hell bent on murdering him the banker was forced to flee the car and wait on the dolly as the train chugged north to Buffalo Creek. Once he had led the blindfolded gelding home and released him in the round pen to calm down Henry was now aware that this horse was not going to simply settle down and sweeten up with time. He spent three days trying to gain the horse’s trust only to have him snap at him, stamp at him, and stare him down with that evil glower.

“Sorry big fella but, you’re a bit too much for me t’handle.” of course that had probably been what the last owner had said as he was cutting into the horse’s hide with a scathing whip that had left its marks on the dark hindquarters. Waiting until the devil horse was not looking Heck tossed a blanket over the gelding’s head which worked surprisingly well, he could lead the horse anywhere. Hitching him up behind Gander Henry led the belligerent horse not into town, but up the road to Hellfire ranch where Rusty gave him a really strange look, “If you tried gift wrappin a horse . . . I admire your effort.” but a gust of wind revealed the horse’s surrounding to him and what transpired within the space of a few seconds required the banker to cut the lead rope before the heavier gelding dragged Gander all over the ranch. Rusty could have sworn he saw fire in those eyes as they set upon him, dodging the curiously enraged animal’s bared teeth. Henry yelled for his cousin to run but the man hardly needed a motive and cut a path for the nearest open paddock trying not to scream like a girl at the sound of the pounding hooves behind him stirring up dust every hand on the ranch was sure to see. After nearly getting Daniel Helm’s foreman trampled to death Henry was sure his friend, who was already not in the best of moods, would find another reason to look at him the way he did.

“Thanks for your help Rus-” Gander sidestepped at the sudden movement from the man standing next to him, the hard flail of an arm and suddenly the saddle was vacated, his rider on his ass in the dirt, “You f*ckin IDIOT!”

---

July 15th, 1869
Hellfire Ranch
Around 9:30 am


Have you ever been so utterly broken than you can feel the breeze rattle your heart in your chest? Has life been so completely cold and merciless that even the sweltering rays of the Colorado sun couldn’t even pucker a sweat on your brow? He was absolutely desolate, what will and bearing he had ever had as Daniel Helm had evaporated the day he heard her screaming and saw the blood. It’d been nearly a month now since they’d lost that precious child to some horrid, tragic circumstances. What had they done to deserve what life had given to them and then so ruthlessly taken away? They were going to make such good parents, weren’t they? Was this God’s way of saying that they weren’t ready for the burden of a child just yet? But it would have never been a burden, never in any lifetime or era would the gift of a child ever be seen as a hindrance. Maybe they hadn’t planned on parents at the time, but did that make them any less worthy for such a glorious blessing? The day he put his unborn child in the ground was the day the mighty Helm had renounced any faith in any deity, stepped down from that proud pedestal he’d been standing upon and stumbled into the tangled brambles of depression.

When he’d put that boy in ground without shedding a single tear, didn’t cry until he’d taken Buck out and rode until he didn’t recognize the trees anymore. He dismounted the gelding and let him roam while he broke down in the middle of the woods and just let his deepest sorrow tear him asunder. He couldn’t rightly recall how long he was out there, just sobbed until his eyes were dry and he could no longer conjure tears. He hacked and dry heaved into the dust as that lung crushing weight constricted his chest. He’d never felt so absolutely dejected and forlorn since the loss of his mother, hadn’t felt so guilty and so utterly to blame. It’d been so many years since he’d conquered that bought of life threatening depression that claimed his young heart after his mother’s untimely demise. And now here he was again, wallowing in that same black abyss, lost a love that he’d never have the chance to hold and for the first time in his life he truly didn’t know if he’d be able to overcome this. Liam had finally managed to track his wayward cousin down, helped him back onto his horse and led him back to the ranch where he began his self-destructive ways.

Not once did he ever talk to his friends about the loss of his son, when the topic was brought up he got quiet and that lost look his eyes grew distant and there was no chance of connection to be made. Any other occasion Danny was just quiet, dejected, emotionless in every since of the word. The affection that had once shimmered in his eyes when he saw his friends was gone, lost in those depths of faded emerald. The joy of hearing their stories, listening to their tale of their day, just hearing their voices was gone and replaced with a distance that no one had successfully conquered yet. The bridge was broken and for once in his entire life, Daniel Helm did not openly express his inner demons. He gave little to no contact to others. He shied away from hand shakes, pats on the back, anything that would remind him of the guilt he had for wanting so desperately to give up for good. The only remaining affection that Helm showed was when he’d crawl into bad at night and he and Darla would just curl around one another and try, together, to ward of the nightmares that sleep would bring and hope that maybe tomorrow would bring new courage to keep going.

The Colorado sun had already baked the dusty trails that morning, making the wood shack beside the barn a literal hot box. Helm woke early still each day, faced his existence with one task at a time. It was a slow going method and honestly at the rate in which he was trying to recovery it would take decades before he could ever overcome his loss. He was stacking wood in the back of the shed when he could have sworn he’d heard hooves on the main drag up to the ranch house. It was probably Henry, Davion, maybe in Sam coming to check up on him and Darla. It was no secret how much their loss was still tolling on them. They’d try to talk to Danny, knowing that he’d give short, half assed responses just to hopefully drive them away before they could be even more disappointed in him. The sound of the hooves suddenly grew rapid and it sounded like a chase. Had one of the mustangs got loose? Dropping his work he jogged briskly to the open area between the house and the barn, sliding to a halt as he caught the last few yards of the pursuit. Rusty had just barely made it into the round paddock before bailing, a fuming, heaving, and massive black male thundering in circles around in the pin.

Drawing his attention away from the horse Helm walked slowly up to Henry and Rusty, tried to put a little light into his deadened eyes but honestly he had no motivation too and he hoped that maybe Henry would understand. Waiting for him to drag himself up, Danny put his hands on his hips, clearing his throat. “Hey Henry,” Daniel was hardly the one to instigate conversation these days, obvious from the quiet and monotone voice he used regarding his best friend, “What brings you and…ugh, your friend to visit?” He looked back at the horse again, who seemed to have calmed just a bit.

Unlike Danny, Henry had gotten over the loss of his child, it had been almost exactly two months since his wife had come home from New York with the news. She had great timing as the man she was returning to was about as broken as anyone could possibly be. He had nothing left but his company and what was the significance of a business without Bella and his children? It wasn’t just not having her with him, it was knowing that she didn’t love him anymore and he was at the point where he didn’t want to go on without her for another minute. He tried to tell her everything now, being truthful and refusing to keep things to himself, especially if she asked. Danny had suggested they communicate more and stop arguing and perhaps Henry wouldn’t have to feel like such a failure when it came to his and Bella’s marriage. There were still a few things he heard through the grapevine that Bella had told her friends about, but hadn’t bothered to mention to him, but it was only fair because if Bella spoke to Danny or Rusty about the shit Henry had said or done while she was gone it would have curled her toes. Just two days before Bella’s return Rusty had come back to Hellfire after visiting his troubled cousin in Denver with an extra Smith & Wesson revolver he claimed to have found in the apartment. It was on the coffee table, loaded and ready to go and Henry had insisted it was for protection but after the banker fell asleep Rusty didn’t hesitate taking it with him, “A gun mixed with a man not in his right mind paints walls red.”

Not being so sure how his wife was really feeling, Henry knew he was a very happy man, it may have had something to do with all the extra attention his wife gave him as they were currently trying for another baby. She seemed happy, a little disappointed that all their efforts had thus far proven fruitless but Henry just told her she was being impatient and they needed to keep trying. But the banker was so overjoyed he would have danced in the street if it wouldn’t rouse suspicion that he was drunk in public, an ordinance against such actions just recently taken into account to be voted on come November. Until the townsfolk of Buffalo Creek deemed drunk in public a misdemeanor it appeared the local drinkers were taking full advantage until the autumn. Mary was also due in November and the election Henry was campaigning for was in November, he would get to pick on Danny that month too as he turned twenty-seven, Davion forty-two.

He nodded at the rancher’s greeting as Rusty continued to glower at him, still a bit shaken, “Danny.” how was he to answer Helm’s question though, he hadn’t really thought this through, it was another one of those spur of the moment type things, “ . . . . ugh, ya know I been meanin t’bring Chris down here, he wants t’see the place . . .” completely random and having nothing to do with why he was here, “As for the horse, well I think he might be possessed.” a snort of discontentment from the foreman got a chuckle from Henry that was cut short by a punch to the shoulder, “Everybody’s given up on ‘im, even me, hell I think he’s lost weight since I saved ‘im from slaughter. I may be a good rider but I can’t handle a nutcase like him, he’s got problems.” pulling the brim of his black felt hat down to shield his eyes from the hot July sun Henry sighed watching the gelding inspect his new pen, “I figured if it was one person that wouldn’ give up on ‘im it’d be the man that didn’ give up on me.” a horse like this needed someone to work with him several hours a day, a man that could afford the time away from a liquor bottle. As far as he could tell this horse was very fearful to the point that he attacked people to keep them as far away from him as possible, “He’s half Thoroughbred, half Percheron . . . related to Kingston just like Wabby, I believe this is the end of a short and lonely road for him, his last chance since I bought him for slaughterhouse price . . . besides, Daniel Helm ridin into town on that would be a sight t’behold.” it would be good for the both of them, horse and man could recover together. Henry smiled almost triumphantly, handing the reins to Rusty before going over to pick up the blanket the skittish draft cross had tossed.

---

July 15th, 1869
Hellfire Ranch
Around 9:30 am

The forlorn looking rancher straightened out the cuffs of his shirt, gazing back at the genial banker with a shimmer of hesitance in his eyes. It’d been weeks since Daniel had even attempted human contact outside of his wife and when he needed to speak with his workers. He wasn’t quite ready to step back into his old boots and take the place where the stoic Daniel Helm usually stood. He wasn’t ready to be care free yet, wasn’t ready to smile and sure as hell wasn’t ready to be happy. So with an indifferent stare and lips pursed into a thin line he waited for the two Scarborough boys to stop their bickering. “Chris? Eh, I wouldn’t mind ‘im visitin’ or nothin’.” The rancher glanced back at Henry’s mount and sure enough their was no child, clearing his throat a little as he waited for Henry to really tell him about his visit and the fuming beast in his paddock. “I guess he could go out in the pasture with some of the boy’s too iffin’ he’d want to.”

Eyeing the massive horse in the pen Danny already knew what was to come, that indifferent stare morphing to a flat look that portrayed his disapproval. He had enough animals on this particular plot as it was. With over a thousand head of cattle with a herd of mustangs reaching up to a hundred, not to mention all the other miscellaneous critters running amuck he wasn’t so sure he could afford the time or the effort in another animal for himself- especially one who seemed so skittish and volatile. A horse that’s already been broken that needed to be broken again? Danny had a ranch to run, mouths to feed, and buyers to intice, he did not have time for this animal. “Henry I don’t know if I could. He seems like a hell of a lot of work and I already got my plate full.” It burned his throat talking like that, condemning some poor creature the way he was but in a mood he was in he wasn’t much above just making sure he had enough mind to get out of bed in the morning. “Why don’t you try auctionin’ ‘im again?[/b]”

Then again, Daniel Helm sure had a sweet spot for animals; especially horses in the like and that one sentence from Henry had him looking at his boots both mildly embarrassed and grateful. “You do know that I can’t turn away any critter, don’t ya? Even talking about sending the poor boy off made me a little sick inside.” He turned back toward the pen with his hands on his hips, heaving a heavy sigh as he new just how much work that gelding was going to be in the coming weeks- maybe even months. “Animals got the same affect on me as your damn puppy dog eyes, Henry Scarborough.” For the first time in a little while he smirked, although at his own joke, it seemed that just being around some familiar faces and giving a new job was lifting his spirits considerably.

Walking toward the corral Danny turned back to Henry a moment, looking a bit impressed that the black animal was related to Wabash, knowing how well he’d raced he wandered just how much of that blood had gotten in this piece of work. “You don’t say? Well I couldn’t just put him out now.” Leaning against the fence Danny raised a hand toward the massive creature only to jerk it back when he snapped wildly at his outstretched fingers. “Me ridin’ into town with him? Hmph. It might be a while before that happens.” Daniel Helm, a good six foot, riding in on a horse that easily pushed 17 hands? That would leave men peeing in their drawers and in awe. “Thanks for bringin’ ‘im by, I’ll get to work and I’ll update you on ‘im.”

The run down husk of a man Henry called his friend was difficult to stomach. One of the strongest people the banker had ever known just falling apart at the seams like a worn out old rag. Looking at him now was like watching a weeping wound, unable to tell how deeply he was cut until it stopped bleeding, not knowing if he would be okay. It had only been a month and Henry knew that the days counting down to the due date for the Helm baby would not stop, they would keep coming until that day. Then that day would pass and the sting of failure would settle on them, Henry knew what they were going through in a way. He had told Bella when he heard about it that he was honestly not surprised it had happened. The banker had come home from work to find Sam and Mary scrubbing the blood off the barstool and floor, bloody rags tossed off to one corner and how could he not ask? It had been eight months since the blood they were scrubbing off the floor had belonged to the father of that unborn child, now it was the mother’s. The stains were both still there, one a little more faded and older than the other, but it was ironic, how they overlapped like that and one day Henry had pulled the stools back and looking long and hard at the stains. Perhaps it was a trick of the brain but . . . they almost seemed to form a heart.

But when he told his wife that Darla had lost the baby, more than likely due to her excessive drinking, he had shrugged and said it was too bad but he had been expecting it. Constantly belittling the young woman for being a floozy, not in front of Danny of course, this little event only furthered his beliefs that Darla Hart was an airhead. Even if he did not particularly care for that woman it didn’t mean he was some heartless bastard that did not sympathize with the plight of his friend. He worried about him, sitting at the bar drowning his sorrows, going home to wallow in misery with his wife who seemed on the verge of some kind of mental breakdown. It kept him awake some nights vexing over his friend who had alienated himself from everyone. It reminded him of when Danny and Nuala broke up and Heck had no idea because he was so busy with Bella, it made him feel so guilty afterwards. Then of course he was shot and everything went into the shitter.

“I’d hafta teach ‘im how t’ride first I reckon.” Henry smirked. It would be interesting being the horseman he was and having a son that had no idea what to do on a horse. Chris could ride Gander in the round pen and he got to where he was pretty confident, begging his father to lengthen the leash and let him ride around the ranch a bit. The banker assured his young grasshopper that he was not ready, however the boy insisted and soon Henry opened the gate and Gander refused to leave the pen, “He doesn’t trust you.” he informed his confused son. No amount of heels to the flanks could move that horse as he looked around the property, “He isn’t confident enough in your abilities to guide him to go anywhere with you, you have to earn the right to ride, it’s not an ability, it’s a gift.” boy that had made him all warm and fuzzy inside, all his life he had thought up a multitude of things he would tell his children one day, and that was one of them, “I’ve always wanted t’teach a kid how t’ride a horse-” he stopped himself, maybe Danny had also always wanted to teach a kid how to ride a horse.

But he had also always wanted to teach a horse how to accept a rider, hence the Devil here but it proved too much for him so far. But Danny quickly informed him he had too much to do already, “He was headed for the slaughterhouse already . . . I auction ‘im again that’s where he’ll go.” turning to look at his friend Henry squinted past the sun and really looked at Danny, noted the tired look and that glazed expression Henry often had when he went on benders for weeks at a time. But that sad smile didn’t dissipate from the older man’s face. Henry had been looking in the mirror at home not long ago, noting the lines around his eyes, cutting shallow furrows in his forehead and told himself he wasn’t getting any younger. That was the day he went to see Mayor Stiles in Denver and accepted the nomination to run for office, “I knew you’d change your mind.” guilt trip wins every time.

Danny also seemed to like the prospects of riding the behemoth into town, imagine seeing that tied to a hitching post outside First Chance. But Helm seemed quick to wrap things up and send Henry on his way but, longing for the days of old the banker could not opt out of a bit of small talk. Pushing his hat back off his head Henry ran his fingers though his hair, shorter since he had cut it after his son’s birthday party, in preparation for Bella’s birthday actually, “I accepted a nomination t’run for City Treasurer in Denver . . .” he quipped, somewhat quietly as if afraid his friend would not approve, “Lotta responsibility I guess, but what’s the worst that could happen, right?” he laughed softly, a hint of nervousness and Helm, knowing him the way he did, would probably figure out that was not what Henry wanted to actually say. But what the banker wanted to talk about was a sensitive subject that he felt Danny was not yet ready for, so he respectfully declined to speak on the matter of the loss of Darla’s baby.

---

July 15th, 1869
Hellfire Ranch
Around 9:30 am

Dust churned up beneath the flinty hooves of the skittish animal, prancing anxiously back and forth along the paddock fencing the gelding created a billowing wall of tawny dirt that rolled up into the sky. A few times he’d charge at the despondent rancher, bearing those teeth but skirted away at the last moment when Daniel Helm barely even flinched at the horse’s resilient temper. Watching the panicked animal sprint back and forth in the enclosure, Danny’s mind keened in his ears, and all the rest of the voice faded away into a droning hum. The days had been long and the nights even longer, the past month tolling hard on the rancher. His eyes were deadened and hollow, dried out to the point that the entirety of the whites were spider webbed red from his lack of sleep. The supple flesh beneath them were now blackened, wrinkled and scored with furrowed lines of inner turmoil. Daniel had even lost a few pounds, just didn’t find himself too hungry now days and would much rather drink a few glasses of bourbon for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. His breath smelled of stale whisky all the time now, the pungent odor rolling off the front of his tongue and let people know just how drunk he was all the time these days. He’d nearly broken his neck twice in the past few weeks from trying to break one of the new stallions while particularly inebriated, to which he was dragged back into the guest house by his ever loyal foreman Rusty. After trying to force the rancher to drink some coffee he left, knowing that there was no possible way to fracture the walls of Daniel Helm’s mind in hopes to help him out of his rut.

Shuffling his feet as the black Percheron cross finally seemed to accept his pen Daniel leaned back off the fence and turned back toward his friend. His spine creaked and cracked as he stretched a little, yawned too a little. It was beyond obvious he was tired as a dog, but even if someone had put him to bed and forced him to lay there no good would come of it. He wouldn’t find any sleep there, just lay in the dark with his conscious that seemed most awake at night. Darla had just as a hard time sleeping at first, but now she’d seemed to fall back into a normal pattern, leaving Danny floundering in the wake of his own continuing depression. When he slept at night he’d hold her and listen to her to find peace in her dreams, though it felt so wrong to be there in the same bed with her. It was her fault they’d lost that child, her fault that her bloodstain accompanied his on the floor of the saloon now. For his nature to be to take the blame for anything and everything even remotely connected to him, for once in his life Daniel had forced the blame on someone and felt full heartedly that it was her fault. How could she be so ignorant? So naïve to not know that drinking wouldn’t harm the baby? Hadn’t he told her that? He was sure he had sometime. She was still just a child, he’d been reminded. Despite her age she was no where close to being a mature woman and it was at night when the moon was highest in the sky when he really questioned his heart for falling so head over heels in love with someone who was nothing like him in any possible way. Should he have waited to marry her? She’d never been taught to act like an adult, it seemed Mina condoned the childish nature of her sister. Was it to preserve innocence? Keep her sheltered from the harshness of the world? It may have had been good intentions but now it had cost a life.

First Darla had cheated on him knowing full well that he was coming home, and now she drank their child to death- he wasn’t so sure they were meant for each other after all. But maybe he was just over calculating everything, he wasn’t in any right state of mind and he was just being far too critical of everything. He just needed to get better…far easier said than done.

“You just bring ‘im by whenever you want then, ain’t no worry of mine,” He tried to hide that wince a little when he tried to ignore the thought of teaching his old children to ride, to fight, to shoot a gun, how to treat a lady right. His throat clenched and he thought maybe those four glasses of Kentucky Bourbon he’d had for breakfast might end up in the dirt at his feet. Swallowing past that acidic taste he shoved his hands in his pockets and came up to stand beside Gander. Running those calloused fingers over the velvety nose of the creature he turned his haggard gaze back to his friend and for the first time in a month he just let all that exhaustion shine through those broken emerald eyes. Henry always had an affect on him, make him feel like he was with family, like his Pa or even his elder brothers. And he just felt comfortable to let him see how tired he was, though there was nary a chance he’d tell him why he was that tired, but at least it was a start to accepting his depression.

Glancing only for a second back at the black beast he nodded, “I’ll do all I can for him, I promise ya that. But he might just be beyond saving.” Just like me. He quickly averted his eyes, letting the silence pass between them before Henry spoke up again. There was a momentary spark in his eyes, genuinely intrigued by what Henry had to say. “Really? Hell, Henry, didn’t know you were much into politics,” stroking the gelding’s mane he tried to hide that faint smirk, fond memories of their first adventure returning to him. “Denver is a hell of a place. After our little stunt there I’m pretty impressed they even let you in city limits.” He held his friend’s gaze, the simper fading almost instantly as he noted that tone of voice and the look in his eyes. No. He wasn’t’ ready to talk about it just yet. It was still fresh, still bleeding. If he tried to talk about it he’d just end up bawling like a child and nothing would be accomplished from that. Danny wasn’t gonna go to Henry with his problems, hell he’d just tell him to man up and get over it- like he did. But maybe it was different for Henry, he already had kids, he was already a father. Danny wanted so bad to be a Pa. He wanted it more than anything in his life and it had burst into flames right before his eyes.

“Whatcha gonna do for your campaign, Henry?” I’ll talk when I’m ready, his tone conveyed strongly, and I ain’t ready yet.

The thunder of pounding hooves as the gelding charged the fence had Henry stepping back a bit and even Rusty paused in his attempt to tie Gander to the fence and go on about his chores. But with a twist of his heels the hulking black horse was stamping off in another direction. Without a word, the foreman patted the bay paint on the neck and departed the company of his boss and cousin, he had outrun a horse today and that would probably be the highlight of the week. Even the Carson City gelding backed away from the fence as far as his reins would allow to escape the anger of the horse within the paddock. Henry had tried to help the horse but he had never trained one, he had owned plenty but breaking them was something else entirely. The New Yorker was a good rider, he could do just about anything one of these country raised cowboys could do and lived out of the saddle for years at a time. But when it came to gentling a creature such as this, it was hopeless for him.

“I’ll do that, he’s heard so many stories about ya he can’t wait t’meet his Uncle Danny.” the legend of Hellfire Ranch, oh boy. He had told Christopher of how the ranch came to be named, told him all about the infamous trip to Denver when he and Danny ran for the express. His son told him he should make the oral story into a dime store novel and sell it. When he read it to his friends back in New York he could say he had not only met Daniel Helm, but Henry Scarborough was his father. He had also met Wabash, “He wants t’meet Buck too, he thinks that horse is pretty cool for pullin Wabash off his daddy.” maybe he wanted to thank the buckskin too. Chris also wanted to see if Buck was bigger than his father’s racehorse, which Henry told him over and over that Danny’s horse was a little bit bigger than Wabby, he couldn’t seem to grasp that. Bigger was not always better and both horses had been life savers on that trail but it was true, Buck had a slight height advantage on his black paint counterpart. In fact if ever Wabby misbehaved in the Buffalo Creek livery Buck was the only one that would dare to reprimand him. Heck loved his horses, looking back to Gander as the gelding flicked his ears around, flaring his nostrils at the hand of the rancher stroking his nose. He had never seen a paint horse that had no markings on his face, not a white hair in sight.

“Well . . . I do know he does not like t’be touched . . . with anything. I tried t’throw a rope over his head an’ he, pissed himself . . . never seen a horse do that.” the banker noted with a furrowed brow, “I don’t think he’s, malicious, he’s just scared.” he added with a rich tone of sympathy, it almost felt thick on the tongue and Henry could remember a time when he was violent, untrusting and dangerous on the streets, because he was just scared and no one had ever loved him, “I knew it’d take a special person t’save ‘im.” and now was the time to stop talking before he got sappy, well too sappy since he was already about wipe his face and blame the sun for the stinging in his eyes. So he changed the subject to something that made him happy to talk about, his run for City Council, “Eh, I’m not really but it’s just a job, right? Mayor Stiles actually came t’me an’ asked me t’run.” it was a big responsibility but he looked forward to it, not for the money but more so the added stability. Anything could happen; his bank could get robbed, go bankrupt, run dry, burn down, his cattle could get stolen, a flood in Denver like the one in sixty-four could sweep away his diner or the store. This was a job title set in stone, no matter what happened he would be on the council. He laughed good naturedly at Danny’s remark of him and Denver, “I do believe I recall you shootin a few people there too, Mister Helm.” but the both of them suddenly grew serious when Danny read him like an open book, knowing what the banker really wanted to talk about. But as expected, the tired looking rancher declined the offer to speak of his troubles, “Hmm, I dunno . . . give speeches, put up flyers, shit like that . . . that’s what they usually do right?” he shrugged and produced one of those ubiquitous rollups from his pocket and lit it, “I’ll half ass it, if they vote for me I’ll be f***in amazed.” turning slightly to look over the lay of the land, Henry spotted the pond off in the distance but didn’t ask Danny to go fishing any time soon, he had already given him this broken down horse, asking to go on a trip to the pond may be a bit much, “I think it’s supposed t’rain t’morrow . . . the almanac predicts a bad winter, I’m so sick of bad winters.” he got shot in the winter of sixty-seven, there was the shootout back in February, he would just lay low this winter.

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July 15th, 1869
Hellfire Ranch
Around 9:30 am

Watching the ebony gelding skirt across the paddock nervously he could only imagine what those scared haunches had endured his short and cruel existence. Daniel Helm was no stranger to such things as fickle things, his own sturdy frame marred with years upon years of misfortune and trial. He didn’t blame the poor creature for being so fearful and violent, if cruelty was all man had dealt him his life, if he didn’t even know happiness, how could one condemn him for his actions? Thin patches of scars covered his back, angry looking things that would take a while to heal and fade away. They were a reminder of the cross’s terrible beginnings, and a reminder to Helm to be patient. Recovery wasn’t going to be easy for the animal, but just maybe, they could save each other. Two broken souls so cut off from the true beauty of the world they were standoffish and refused any sort of help despite their dire need. They were two misfits who would find their place in life again, together or not at all. This was it, Danny decided, this was his chance to save someone’s life and just maybe, save his too.

Letting the volatile creature let off the last of his fear he gave him his space, let him have the paddock and instead went to Gander. His eyes narrowed almost sadly, shifting to his dust encrusted boots. How could Henry talk so highly of him? It sickened him to think that he was so deceiving that anyone could think of him with such respect and doting; to the point he told his son stories of his hijinks. “You really think it’s good to tell ‘im stories like that? I mean…” I’m not that special. My life is just one big f*cking mess- do you really want your son dreaming of things like that? “Couldn’t it give ‘im the wrong idea? The last thing you need is him running off t’Denver hoping to run into some renegade natives.” They were good stories, were good stories. Before time could tarnish them, made those adventures seem so distant they weren’t even really a part of him anymore. He wasn’t that same boy anymore. He was old, broken, chaffed, and worn- nothing any boy should really hope to someday meet or even strive to be like.

“Buck’s a good ‘ol boy, he’s been living kinda easy though recently. He’s had plenty of adventure lately and he just need some relaxing.” The horse was as valiant as any cowboy could ask for, loyal to no fault and as feisty as his rider. The horse had been with Danny through his most fierce trials and now that everything seemed to settle down, despite his recent loss, he deserved a break. “But he’s gettin’ restless, Buck don’t like being a pasture horse none.”

“He’s a skittish one, that’s fer sure. But give me some time, I’ve worked with these kinda horses a while. I know how to handle myself, hell, Buck was just as temperamental when I started breakin’ ‘im, look at ‘im now.” He was gonna explain just how he planned on tackling the situation when Henry turned that line on him and he lost the sound in his throat for a short moment. Don’t you call me that, he wanted to hiss, his eyes puckering with the hotness of tears. “Special, hmph,” He grunted, wiping his nose to hide the fact his emotions were frayed and easily triggered, “More like professionally trained.”

Danny nodded a few times, listening to what Henry explained about his council position that he was running for. Denver was sure as hell in for a treat when Henry Scarborough got on that board, a lot a chance, he assumed, for the better too. They needed someone like Henry on the council. Not just those higher up politicians and aristocrats that could just throw their lot in and think nothing of the poorer folks. Henry was good financially as of now, but he came from just as humble beginnings with his own fortune. He made himself his money and he could understand the plight of the others. “I’m more than sure you’ll be on that council in no time.”

They’d finished their business, but Henry was still meaning to stick around. Probably here to check up on him and make sure he wasn’t drunk as hell trying to do any wood chopping or horse busting. Henry seemed the only one in the entire town who even realized there was something wrong with him, saw his quiet nature and knew that there was a whole lot more than he was showing. In a way he was grateful knowing that Henry gave a shit enough to notice the difference, but it bothered him too, wasn’t there other things Henry could be tending to? His family? House? His business? The last thing he needed was to be riding out to Hellfire at all hours of the day just to make sure his friend hadn’t killed himself. “I think we’ve all had our fair share of bad winters.” His fingers grazed his chest, trailed down till he felt the jagged flesh that was still blanched white and scarred over from his last bought with adventure. He was lucky he was even here, he reminded himself every day, though some days he wasn’t sure how lucky he really felt.

Before he could let those kind of thoughts cross his head he glanced back to the horse, “Well Henry it’s been wonderful, really,” He was sincere, but he was tired and wasn’t much in the mood for talking about what Henry wished to. “But now with this little hellion I’ve got me a lot of work t’do, a lot of preparing and planning. I best be off to work.” Just leave so you stop looking at me with that pity in your eyes. “I’ll catch you later, huh?”

That awkward moment a kid would normally have after he did something his parents didn’t approve of, Henry felt it now as Danny questioned him telling Chris stories. He asked him if he thought it was a good idea and in doing so was asking Henry to think about it and he grew silent as the wheels continued to turn. Well he doubted Chris was the sort to run off and get into any sort of trouble, he was a bit overly confident, he was very overly confident, “He’s a good kid, I don’t think he would do anything deliberately stupid or reckless . . . takes after his mother, thank god.” Henry scoffed and drew off his roll up. Chris could barely ride a horse and Henry was sure the kid would not leave the ranch or anything.

Helm updated Henry on Buck’s status and come to think of it he had seen the gelding in the pasture these past several times he had visited, “Wabby came up lame last month, I’ve been takin it easy on him too, vet’s orders.” after running him so hard for nearly three miles that day when he raced home and killed William Helms, the stud had some swelling in both front legs that worried Henry greatly. The vet in Denver told him it could be something that was strained or could even be hairline fractures it was difficult to tell but he would be fine with six weeks of stall rest. If it was tendonitis it could become recurring, putting the horse to pasture for the rest of his days and Henry hoped that was not the case.

Danny was confident he could help the horse and that swell one got when they were perfectly at ease with something came over the beaming banker as he watched the horse, “He looks better than when I got ‘im, but dropped weight like I said, might need t’be wormed.” he suggested and pinched his cigarette out, pocketing it rather than littering the grounds of Hellfire with it. Moving the animal from Denver to Buffalo Creek in a train car and then keeping him in a round pen was probably stressful as hell too but Henry didn’t want him on green grass just yet, fearing the animal would over eat, colic and die. He could hang his hat on those pitiful hipbones, the spine protruded and the sunken places above the eyes looked like an extra pair of hollow eye sockets.

His friend was also confident in Henry winning that spot on the council and honestly he had been the first person to say so, might have just been talking for the sake of talking though, trying to remain positive in the company of his friend. But it gave him a bit of incentive to take the run more seriously, “Hmm . .” was all he said, clearly thinking on it. He would have to hire people to run his store and diner, maybe even get a manager for the bank if he had to, otherwise he would be working all the damn time, which would upset his wife. But putting him charge of a whole city budget, were these people insane?

The rancher reminisced his own bad winter, tracing the ugly scar of the knife wound that had nearly made sure he would never see another winter ever again. It made Heck wonder if they were in for more heartache this coming season. Would Denver flood like it did five years ago and wipe his diner and store off the street? Maybe he would just lose the election and that could be the highlight of his winter. Danny had said that more to himself than Henry, almost seeming to subconsciously seek out that scar on his belly courtesy of Mason Radley. So the banker said nothing and Danny took it as a sign that this conversation was over. He gave Henry permission to leave a second time and Scarborough gave him that reluctant look, almost with a hint of disappointment but blinked into the sun a few times, put his hat back on and smirked at his friend, “That’ll do then I guess.” he kept an eye on the dark horse hoping he wouldn’t race over and bite the hell out of him whilst he untied Gander from the fence, “You get t’feelin better Danny, so you can head down t’the polls in November an’ punch a ticket for me.” he laughed and mounted up, tipped his hat and reined his animal toward the house.