Chapter Six

"Why don't you sing us another song?" Ance asked as he and Penelope rode along in silence under the noonday sun. 

"But you said you wanted quiet time," Penelope reminded him, her voice innocent and light. 

Ance sighed. "Well, I changed my damn mind," he grumbled. "I'd like to hear another song." 

"Alright then," Penelope laughed lightly and then filled the air with a song about puppies, butterflies, sunshine and rainbows. It was a bit happy-go-lucky for Ance's tastes but it beat riding along in silence.... The fact that riding in silence is what he had lived for just a few short days ago never entered his mind. 

Suddenly Penelope's voice fell silent and Ance felt her tug his sleeve. "What's that?" she asked as she pointed across the grassy plains. 

Ance frowned and followed her gaze. He squinted and then grumbled under his breath. "Damn that ignorant Irishman..." 

"Don't say bad words," Penelope scolded. "And are those men going to kill him?" she shrunk into him as she spoke and Ance found himself patting her head in an effort to comfort her. 

"Naw, I reckon I won't let them do that. Wouldn't be very good of me since he is an acquaintance of sorts." 

Ance slid from the saddle and pulled Penelope down as well. He sat her down in the long grass beside a rock. "Stay here," he ordered as he hopped back on his mare. "Don't move until I call for you and don't make a sound." 

"Are you going to be okay?" she asked, her brown eyes shining with fear and worry. 

Ance was struck with a foreign emotion at the sight of someone else sharing genuine concern over his welfare. He couldn't remember having had that in longer than he dared to figure out. Penelope was far too kind for her own good... the world did bad things to kind people. It took a big bite of them, chewed them up and then spit them right back out. 

"I reckon," he grunted and then rode away toward Irish and the three men who were fixing to hang him from a large maple. 

Irish was sitting on a horse's back with a blind fold over his eyes and his hands tied behind him. A rope was pulled fairly tight around his neck and tied to the branch above. That Irish bastard was always finding ways to get himself into trouble. 

Ance knew the moment the men became aware or him. They turned away from Irish and tensed. One of the men was holding a rifle and the other two had their hands hovering over the revolvers on their sides. 

"Stop right there, mister," the man with the rifle warned. "Just who the hell are you?" 

Ance didn't say a word and he didn't stop. He continued at a slow and steady place with his hands loosely gripping the reins. 

"Now hold it right there, mister!" the man with the rifle exclaimed as he raised that rifle up and aimed it toward Ance. "I said to stop." 

Ance stopped. He reached in his chest pocket and pulled out a cigar and matches. All three men shifted and shared uneasy glances with one another. Ance took his time in lighting his cigar and taking a long draw. 

He let it hang off his lip as he tilted his head. "What exactly are you men doin' out here today?" 

It was clear that Irish recognized his voice because the man sat up perfectly straight at the sound of it and a smile curved his lips. This was exactly the reason why Ance didn't have friends and Irish was pushing him damn close to deciding that he no longer wanted acquaintances either. 

"I don't reckon it's your business what we're doin', mister," one of the men informed him as he rested his palm on the handle of his revolver. "Now, why don't you just get on out of here now?" 

Ance shook his head slowly. "It looks to me like you're fixin' to hang a man," he noted. "Now, I may or may not let you do that according to just what this man did to deserve that rope around his neck." 

Ance saw Irish's throat bob and the man with his hand on his revolver attempted to step forward. Ance saw his gun leaving the holster and before he completely cleared leather, Ance drew his own rifle from the scabbard of his saddle and fired off a shot into his chest, dropping him dead to the ground. 

The other two men roared with surprise and anger. The man with the rifle fired a shot that, thankfully, went wide and Ance shot two more times, killing both of them. 

"A little help here..." Irish called out as the horse beneath him tossed its head and skittered sideways several steps. 

Ance grumbled, holstered his rifle and slipped off his mare's back. Slowly he advanced toward the frightened horse and grabbed the bridle in his hand. "What did you do to end up tied to a tree, Irish? Did this have anything to do with that damned snake oil you were trying to talk me into selling?" 

Irish grinned, though his eyes were still covered. "No, these fine gents were a bit peeved and hot under the collar cuz they were bested by an Irishman at the poker table." 

"Bested or cheated?" Ance grunted. 

The grin on Irish's face turned sheepish, "Bested o'course." 

Ance growled and pulled his knife. He sliced the knife holding Irish to the tree and then cut the one away from his hands. "Of course." 

Irish pulled the blindfold from his eyes and blinked several times when the sunlight suddenly assaulted his vision. "Ya sure are a sight for sore eyes, Ansel. For a wee moment there, I thought ya might let the bastards hang me." 

"For a moment there I thought about it," Ance agreed. 

"Where ya on your way to?" Irish questioned as he went about untying the remaining rope from his neck. 

"Briggston...." Before Ance could finish speaking a soft, quiet voice filled the air. 

"Ance? Are you dead?" 

Ance pinched his nose between his fingers as Irish paled and took the horse back several steps. "Ansel, I do believe ya got a ghostie or a guardian angel one a callin' out for ya." 

"It's not either," Ance grumbled. "It's a little girl." He turned toward the rock he'd left Penelope beside. "I'm fine, Penny. Why don't you get on over here now?" 

Her messy blond hair was the first thing visible as she popped up above the prairie grass. Irish was uncharacteristically quiet as Penelope limped toward them and finally made it through the long grass to the clearing they were standing in. She smiled up at Ance, her face pale and her freckles sticking out in stark contrast, "I was worried. I heard the guns...." then her brown eyes fell on the dead men and she began to shake. 

"What's the matter?" Ance grunted. 

"Did you kill them?" Penelope's brown eyes shone with tears. 

"Hell yeah," Ance replied. "It was either that or they'd have killed me." 

Penelope was quiet a moment and then she stepped forward and wrapped her arms around Ance, resting her cheek against his lean stomach. "I'm glad you're okay," she whispered. 

Ance didn't know what to say or do. 

Hellfire and damnation, he had no idea in the world how to handle displays of affection! His own mother had never hugged him! 

Slowly Ance raised one hand and patted her back as the other arm hung limp at his side. "I'm glad about that myself, Penny," he muttered. 

"Well be still my ol' Irish heart," Irish mused softly. "I never thought I'd see the day when Ansel Adams showed such kindness to a wee little lass. Is she yours, then Ansel? Ya never spoke of having a child before." 

Ance pulled away from Penny and tossed her up in the saddle of his mare. She gripped the saddle horn tightly to catch her balance, though Ance never loosened his grip on her until he was certain she wouldn't fall. "She isn't mine, dammit," Ance snapped as he went about looting the dead men's bodies for money or tobacco. 

Irish studied Penelope who studied him right back. "She seems a tad bit young to be anythin' other than your daughter. Ya aren't the type of man who likes 'em that young, are ya, Ansel?" 

Ance could hear the amusement in Irish's tone and only served to further rile him. "I should have let those bastards kill you," he grumbled. He pocketed ten dollars and two pouches of tobacco before walking back to the mare. 

"Ance saved me and he's taking me to Bigb...Bisto...Bigg..." 

"Briggston," Ance grunted as he hopped into the saddle behind her. "I'm taking her to the orphanage in Briggston." 

"You saved a child?" Irish's eyes widened considerably. "Are the stars alignin'? Are the angels a singin' up in the heavens?" 

Penelope giggled. "He talks funny," she whispered, her messy hair tangling up in Ance's beard. 

Ance chuckled. "He smells funny too. Let's just leave him be." 

Ance began to ride away but Irish quickly followed after him. "I believe I'll just be comin' with ya to Briggston, Ansel," he mused. "I'm a wee bit worried that all this sun may have fried your brain and I want to keep an eye on ya. Ya bein' my best friend and all, o'course." 

"I'm not your friend, you old Irish bastard. What happened to your snake oil venture anyhow?" 

"Ahh.. Still goin' strong. I'm saving up my money to buy a wee cart I can ride around in and sell it out of." 

"What is snake oil?" Penelope questioned. 

Irish leaned closer, "A beauty of an elixir I have created that will cure ya of any and all sicknesses and ailments for the low cost of two dollars a bottle." 

Penelope's brown eyes widened. "Could it fix my leg?" 

Irish studied her a moment and tapped his chin. "Do ya have two dollars?" 

Ance grunted and kicked out his leg, hitting Irish in the side and toppling the bastard from his saddle. "Don't be filling the girl's head with nonsense!" he warned as he glared down at the man flat on his back on the ground. "Your snake oil ain't nothing but pretty lies and Penny is just fine the way she is." 

Ance hastened his mare's pace and felt Penelope snuggle against him. He wrapped his free arm tight around her middle. "So there is no magic potion to cure everything?" she asked. 

"Of course not," Ance grunted. "It would be foolish to think there is. You might have a bad leg but it's only gonna make you stronger because you'll learn to do things in spite of it." 

"And I'm just fine the way I am, right? You said so." 

"I didn't say that," Ance grunted. 

"Yes, you did," Penelope looked up at him and smiled. "You did, I heard you." 

Ance growled and clicked his tongue. "Let's just get you to Briggston." he grumbled. 

"Wait up!" Irish called out from behind them. Ance herd hooves thundering as the Irishman raced to catch up. "I'm still comin' with ya!"