Sometimes

Blackhand Bill knew every rock, cactus, and spiny yucca plant for twenty miles around town, and so did his faithful Rosie. But the only way to find Her, folks said, was to get so lost you couldn’t tell right from left nor up from down for the stars in your eyes. So Blackhand Bill drank himself sick, tied a blindfold around old Rosie’s eyes and another round his own, and led her stumbling through the prairie.

Boots and chaps kept away the prickly pears, but only his ears warned Bill of the rattlers, and nothing warned him of the yuccas till they stabbed and scraped at his hands. A mighty foolish venture, this. Every chance he’d lead poor Rosie to stumble and break her leg, and that’d be the end of her for sure.

But she kept her nose by his shoulder and breathed warm and soft in his ear, and with every cough or labored breath she gave his chest went tight and he forgot about the cacti and the lurking threat of rattlers beneath his feet. She was the only chance they had. Folks said She only appeared to those too desperate to turn her down, and that sure enough was Blackhand Bill.

He didn’t think much of it at first when the coyotes started yipping and howling. He knew men who’d shoot them soon as look at them, but he wasn’t one: they’d think twice about going for Rosie while he held her lead, even drunk and blindfolded. But then the howls started circling up all around them, and Rosie whipped up her head, and Bill dashed the blindfold from his eyes to look around.

The sun was down now and moon wasn’t up. Stars glittered bright and hard all above, and the coyotes were circling shadows between the brushes and rocks. Right ahead of him the rocks piled into a sort of cave. He’d swear on his life he’d never seen it before, or any part of the land all around him.

She was in there, then, and the pack of coyotes was there to welcome him in.

“Easy, girl,” he said, pulling the blindfold from Rosie’s eyes. She snorted and quivered, eyes and nostrils wide against the circling threat. But then, she’d spent the whole day shivering. Even in starlight the lesions were livid on her skin.

The thought of leaving her like this was like nails in his heart. Worse, with the coyotes still slinking all around. But the little cave wouldn’t fit them both.

“Howdy in there,” he called, one hand gentling on her withers. “I got to leave my horse out here. I ain’t gonna shoot your coyotes – be mighty foolish of me when I want something from you. Not even gonna scare them off. But I got to leave Rosie out here, and I want to be sure she won’t be coyote food when I get back. We got an understanding?”

Silence answered him. The coyotes had stopped howling. A light flickered on in the cave, small and yellow, like a lantern.

“Wait for me, darling,” said Blackhand Bill, kissing Rosie’s nose. “I’ll be right back out, quick as a wink, I promise. Graze a bit if you can. Stay safe.” He took the lead from her halter and stepped away, slowly, as she stood there with head hung low. At last, with effort, he turned and ducked into the cave.

He could barely see Her in the dim light there. A woman, or something in a woman’s shape. Teeth. Eyes. A snake, or a coyote; something not a woman, but woman enough to talk to.

She said nothing at first. Blackhand Bill licked his lips, cleared his throat. “Well,” he began, “folks say you grant wishes, sometimes. That true?”

A glitter of eyes, a glitter of teeth. A voice like scales on stone. “It might.”

“My Rosie – my horse out there. Been carrying me for fifteen years. She’s got glanders – she’s dying. I want to wish her healthy.”

“And you offer?”

Bill hesitated, spreading his hands. “What do you want?”

“Hmm.” The flash of a smile in the gloom. “All the memories of your Rosie would be a fair price.”

Bill swallowed hard. Thought of her nose under his hand, her soft whicker when she came to greet him, the way she’d lean her head on his back when he bent nearby her, the way she’d rub her forehead against his chest.

“Let’s have a wager,” he said. “Double or nothing.”

A laugh from the shadows then, like the yipping howls of the coyotes outside the cave. The flash of a coin spinning in the dim light of the lantern.

“Heads or tails?”

“Heads,” said Blackhand Bill, hands clenched tight on his knees.

The coin landed; Her hand slapped down. Then the lantern went out, as if a sudden wind had blown through the glass. A moment later Bill found himself alone in an empty cave.

As he turned towards the entrance he wondered what he’d find beyond: his Rosie well and whole again, or the half-eaten carcass of a stranger.

Written for Flash Fiction Month 2023, day 4, challenge 2: write a western story in which a character takes a large risk or gamble for a favour or wish, ideally including actual gambling as well.

Technically the challenge said “western town”, and a town definitely exists within 20 miles of this story and has implied bearing on the plot, so this is practically equivalent to a busy saloon.

US-American spellings this time to go with the setting. (I’d consistently go for EU spellings if not for the fact that a) I don’t actually have an EU-English spellcheck and b) EU-English vocabulary can be extremely non-intuitive to native English speakers, which seems somewhat counterproductive.)

You can see the rest of the day’s stories (and/or join in – no accounts or sign-up needed!) here.

Wordcount: 852.