oom: scavengers

As the firing stops and the posse closes in around the cabin ruins, the air gets still, almost silent, save for the click of hammers being cocked and of irons being slapped around the wrists of the Kid. Then there are horses, shifting against the sand, hooves scrambling over rocks and dirt, breath coming soft as the Kid is hauled up onto a horse.

Some of them are laughing, others chatting about what they've just done:

"We got him. Billy the fuckin' Kid!"

"Killed Scurlock, too."

"I got that Indian 'fore he and that French fella got away."

"Rudebaugh skinned out too."

None of the extra stuff matters. They caught Billy the Kid, and they've got him in irons and saddled up on that pretty horse of his, the posse with their rifles at the ready, grins on their faces. They caught Billy the Kid.

"Should we take care of Scurlock?"

"Nah. Ain't like kickin' dust over him will do him any favors."

"Come back for him tomorrow," Garrett says. "Kid's more important."

The scavengers are never far behind after the dust settles.

( This time is no different. )

oom: technicalities

The ride north into Lamy takes longer than he'd like, but he's not about to push his horse, even if it's not all that hot out. There's a cattle train leaving Albuquerque and heading up for St. Louis, and Doc thinks that he's got enough friends in New Mexico to still call in a favor or two.

It's nothing like the train that he and Yen took East to New York City, but he has just enough money left to buy a spot in one of the few boxcars for his horse (and himself, but he's never added to the list of the cargo contents). The open stock cars provide ventilation for the beef but the boxcars don't, which is why after they've left the station and are headed north towards La Junta he cracks the door just a bit and watches the scenery rush past.

Without passengers, they don't stop for a day until they reach Burrton and only then it's because they have to make sure they get on the right spur, get rid of the cattle that they've lost from the travel so far.

Doc smokes one of his cigarettes while standing outside the boxcar door, waiting. Carefully. And while he's not technically wanted in Kansas, it never hurts to be too careful.

( Like slow hands, not being careful will get you killed. )