Treachery: Day 3

Word Count: 18,015

Summary of Events:

Edward received a visitor at his campfire and was told that someone had work for him. Adeline walked and contemplated where she should head for, leaning toward West Virginia. Edward rode toward where his work would be, intending to stop by the next town and telegraph the man to let him know he'd received the word and was on his way. Adeline was tired and the sun was rising, but she had to walk a long ways to find shelter. Edward arrived at the next town and went to the saloon after sending the telegram and joined in a pool game; one of the old-timers doubted Edward and challenged him to a bet . . .

Excerpt of the Day:

""A buck fifty?" the old-timer asked, smiling.

"If I would've meant a buck fifty that's what I would've said," Edward replied. "I meant a hundred'n fifty."

The old-timer raised his eyebrows. "Confident young'un."

"You'd better be on the far side of eighty to be callin' me that," Edward said.

"Why?" the old-timer challenged.

"Because otherwise y'all ain't hardly older than my Pa," Edward replied.

"How old is your pa?" one of the other men asked incredulously.

"Old enough that he's got grandchildren older than me," Edward replied.

"How many kids does he have?" the man asked.

"Fourteen, with two wives," Edward replied.

The man turned away, looking impressed.

"Well kid," the old-timer said. "I am eighty."

Edward nodded. Five years older than his father, that was reasonable to be calling him a kid. It irritated him when men younger than his father, and especially younger than fifty, called him a kid or a young'un or anything like that. They weren't hardly old enough to be his father, they had no right to call him young.

Once again Edward was given the break, and he did well off of it. As he'd expected he did well in the round, even beating out the old-timer who'd made the bet with him, although he didn't win.

"So where's my hundred'n fifty?" Edward asked as the table was being reset for the next game.

"You didn't win," the old-timer said.

"I beat you," Edward replied. "And that's what matters."

"Naw it don't," the old-timer said.

"Why not?" Edward asked.

"Because y'all's just a young whelp," the old-timer replied.

"You ever heard of the name Edward Thorne?" Edward asked.

"Yeah, he's some hotshot horse trainer or somethin'," the old-timer replied. "Apparently he can break a wild horse to saddle in less'n a year."

"I prefer the word train," Edward said. "But that's inconsequential. The point is, you're lookin' at him."

"Who?" the old-timer asked.

"Edward Thorne," Edward replied.

"Not on yer life," the old-timer said.

"You bet your life," Edward replied.

"There ain't no way y'all know enough to train a mustang," the old-timer said.

"Believe it," Edward said.

"I have to see somethin' to believe it," the old-timer said.

"Then show me the wildest horse in town and I'll oblige you," Edward replied.

"You've got yerself in some hot water kid," the old-timer said. "The wildest horse in town is the devil himself I tell you, but I wanna see y'all get scared outta yer jeans. Y'all got yerself a deal."

Edward emptied his glass. "Take me to him."

"Hey ever'body!" The old-timer shouted. "This whelp says he's Edward Thorne, and he's goin't break Loco t'saddle!"

"Train," Edward corrected quietly.

The entire crowd startled and watched in stunned silence as the old-timer led Edward and a small crowd toward the door. The crowd grew as they kept walking. Edward couldn't wait to see the old-timer with his jaw in the dirt."