As they rode along, the orange hues of the setting sun bled into the deep blues of the encroaching night sky. Jed squinted up at the horizon, where stars were just starting to prickle through the fading daylight.

“Looks like night’s creepin’ up on us,” he muttered, breaking the silence.

“Yeah, it is,” Charlie replied, his gaze lingering on the sky. There was a strange comfort to the quiet evening, the kind only the open land could offer.

Without a word, Jed hopped off his horse, pulling a horse brush from his saddlebag. He began to brush down his horse, his movements steady and deliberate.

Charlie watched him for a moment, eyebrows raised. “Why’re you wastin’ time cleanin’ the horse?”

Jed didn’t look up, focused on his task. “Boy, horses need care same as you or me, maybe more so. Brushing gets the blood flowin' under their skin, keeps 'em healthy.” He looked over his shoulder at Charlie with a smirk. “You might learn a thing or two if you actually listened instead of just gawkin'.”

Charlie rolled his eyes, but curiosity got the better of him. “Alright then, wise guy, what’s so special about brushin' a horse?”

Jed grinned, giving his horse a few more strokes with the brush. “You see, keeps their skin in good shape, gets rid of dirt, burrs, and any other nonsense stuck in their coat. Prevents diseases too, things like thrush or rain rot—nasty business if it gets a hold. Groomin' lets me check for any cuts, sore spots, or lumps that could give 'em trouble down the road.”

Charlie crossed his arms, still skeptical but intrigued. “Guess I never thought of it that way.”

“That’s ‘cause you’re too busy thinkin’ about riches and a big house to notice the small things,” Jed retorted, chuckling. He shook his head, and his voice softened as he continued. “It ain’t just about takin' care of the horse. Groomin' helps build a bond. Horse ain’t much different from folks; they feel things, get anxious, need some reassurin’.”

Charlie shifted his weight, looking down at his boots. “Never thought of it like that.”

Jed’s gaze flicked up, giving Charlie a knowing look. “Ain't all fancy words and big plans, kid. Out here, it's the little things—brushing a coat, cleanin' tack, settin’ camp. You build up enough little things, you got yourself a life worth livin’.”

Charlie scratched his head, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Didn’t figure you for the sentimental type, Jed.”

Jed shrugged, his voice turning gruffer. “Ain't sentiment, it's just plain sense. Besides,” he added with a smirk, “I’d rather be cleanin' the horse than listenin' to you yammer on about all them ladies you're fixin' to charm.”

Charlie laughed, a genuine, open sound that filled the quiet night air. “Maybe I'll give it a shot sometime. Brushing the horse, I mean.”

Jed looked up, his expression softening a bit. “Wouldn’t hurt you none. Spend enough time with these animals, they teach ya a thing or two about patience. Maybe some day you'll stop and appreciate somethin' that ain’t glitz and gold.”

Charlie paused, considering that for a moment, and gave a small nod. “Maybe so, old man. Maybe so.”

As Jed returned to his work, he glanced at Charlie and chuckled softly. “Come sunrise, we’ll be back on the road. Enjoy the quiet while ya can—ain’t nothin' like a clear night to remind ya what matters.”

The two stood together, Jed still brushing his horse while Charlie looked up at the endless stretch of stars, the weight of the night settling around them like an old, comforting blanket. Jed finished brushing his horse and, without looking, tossed the brush over to Charlie. Quick on his feet, Charlie caught it and hopped down from his horse. “Alright, Silver Tempest, looks like it’s your turn for a little pampering,” he muttered with a grin as he began running the brush down the horse’s coat.

Meanwhile, Jed went to his saddlebags, rummaging around with that same gruff determination he had for just about everything. He pulled out two large blankets and spread them on the ground, making sure they were positioned just right. Then he fished out two smaller blankets, one for each setup.

Charlie glanced over, brow raised in curiosity. “Why you got four blankets there, old man?” he asked, brushing down Silver Tempest’s legs.

Jed gave him a sidelong glance, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. “Well, these two big ones are for sleepin’. One for you, one for me, since I reckon you’re a bit old now to be sharin’ a blanket with your ‘Uncle Jed.’ Ain’t like when you were a kid, sneakin' into my bed whenever the night got a little too dark for your likin’.”

This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

Charlie snorted, shaking his head as he continued brushing. “Alright, alright, I get it. Ain’t gotta bring up my past traumas every chance you get.”

“Oh, I reckon I do. Keeps you humble,” Jed retorted, clearly amused. “You remember, don’t ya? How you’d come knockin' on my door half asleep, claimin' there was somethin’ ‘lurkin’ in the shadows’ that only my candle could ward off.”

Charlie grinned, trying to hide his embarrassment. “Yeah, yeah, laugh it up. That was a long time ago, Jed. You don’t gotta go narratin' my life like it’s some tall tale every time we’re on the trail.”

Jed chuckled, folding the two smaller blankets over their sleeping spots, pausing between each word. “These... here... are to cover up with. Keep the chill... off once that wind picks up. Don’t... want you wakin' up... complainin’... about how cold it is out here.”

He looked over at Charlie, eyebrows raised with exaggerated patience, drawing each word out as if explaining to a child.

Charlie raised an eyebrow. “And you’re talkin’ slow ‘cause…?”

Jed gave a mockingly serious nod. “Because, son, I thought maybe I had to spell it out for you, seein’ as you didn’t look like you knew what these other two were for.”

Charlie rolled his eyes, a hint of a smirk betraying his amusement. “I know what they’re for, fool. Ain't a ‘retard,’ as you put it.”

Jed laughed, a rare sound, deep and weathered. “Just makin' sure. You got a habit of actin’ clueless sometimes, so I gotta keep ya on your toes.”

They both shared a smile, a comfortable silence settling between them as the last of the day’s light faded away. Charlie finished grooming Silver Tempest and went over to his blanket, stretching out with a satisfied sigh.

Jed settled down on his own blanket nearby, pulling the smaller blanket over himself. The two lay there, the only sounds being the horses breathing softly and the crackling of the nearby fire. After a while, Jed spoke up again, his voice low but carrying in the stillness of the night.

“You ever wonder, Charlie, why we’re out here doin’ all this?” he asked, his tone quieter, reflective. “Sometimes I think… maybe we’re just wanderin’ around, chasin' shadows we ain’t ever gonna catch.”

Charlie turned his head, looking over at Jed’s silhouette in the dim firelight. “I don’t know, Jed. I guess… I just want to feel like I made somethin’ of myself, somethin’ that matters. Ain't lookin' to chase shadows, just… tryin’ to make sense of all this, I guess.”

Jed nodded, a faint smile crossing his face. “Well, kid, maybe that’s all any of us are really doin’. Tryin' to find some sense in the nonsense. Now get some sleep. Ain’t no sense in losin' sleep wonderin’ about things we can’t change.”

With that, they both settled in for the night, the quiet of the open land wrapping around them like one of Jed’s blankets. And as Charlie drifted off, he realized that out here, with his old, grumpy uncle at his side, things almost did make sense—at least for tonight.

Jed rose with the first hint of light, tucking his blankets neatly back into his bag. He let his gaze rest on the horizon for a moment, as if gauging the day ahead. With a light nudge, he stirred Charlie awake.

“C’mon, boy,” he muttered, his tone gruff but laced with a familiar care. “Time to get movin’.”

Charlie let out a groggy sigh, rubbing his eyes as he sat up. “Already? Feels like I just shut my eyes.”

Jed gave a dry chuckle, setting his hat squarely on his head. “Daylight don’t wait for nobody. Figured you’d know that by now.”

As they packed up, Charlie glanced around, a thoughtful look on his face. “Uncle Jed… you figure there’s a town nearby? Could use a proper meal, maybe stock up on some supplies.”

Jed nodded, thoughtful as he cinched his saddle. “Grant’s Pass ain’t too far. Figure we can stop by, grab a bite. Maybe if you let you let us take our time, if you’re feelin’ fancy.”

Charlie brightened up, hopping onto Silver Tempest. “Yeah, a meal that isn’t dried jerky sounds good to me. And maybe some tools, just in case.”

Jed raised an eyebrow, his expression skeptical. “Tools, huh? What, you plannin’ on startin’ a homestead out here?” He swung onto King, his voice dripping with his usual dry humor. “Not sure what you’re thinkin’, but I’ll let you dream big for now.”

They rode out at a steady pace, the morning air cool and crisp, carrying the earthy scent of sagebrush and dust. The sun had just begun to climb, casting long shadows across the trail. It was the kind of quiet morning Jed seemed to savor—steady, unhurried, where every sound carried just a little farther in the stillness.

But then Charlie slowed, his eyes fixed ahead. Jed followed his gaze, noticing a lone white horse standing just off the path, its coat gleaming bright even in the early light.

“Uncle Jed, look.” Charlie’s voice held a note of recognition, his body tense in the saddle. “That’s José horse.”

Jed squinted, indifferent. “Alright, so there’s a horse,” he replied, his tone as unenthused as ever. “Ain’t all that rare in these parts.”

Charlie shot him a look, a bit of frustration breaking through. “No, Jed. That’s *José* horse. Which means he’s close.”

Jed scratched his jaw, casting a sidelong glance at his nephew. “Right. José. Think you mentioned him before, but the name don’t exactly ring bells,” he muttered. “An’ if I’m honest, I’m not sure I much care.”

Ignoring Jed’s indifference, Charlie dismounted, moving toward the horse. His eyes scanned the ground, catching sight of a faint, dark line winding through the dirt—a blood trail. He crouched down, his gaze focused, tracing the line with his finger.

“Look, Jed… there’s blood here. Fresh.”

Jed sighed, dismounting as well. He approached slowly, taking in the trail with an air of practiced calm. “And what exactly do you plan on doin’ with that information, Charlie? You hopin’ to have it out with him, right here and now?”

Charlie looked up, his face hardening. “We had an agreement, Jed. If we ever crossed paths again, we’d finish things. For good.”

Jed’s gaze lingered on Charlie, a shadow of something unreadable crossing his expression. After a moment, he shook his head, a weary sigh escaping him. “Boy, you ever stop to think that maybe some fights ain’t worth finishin’?” He paused, his voice taking on that low, almost wistful tone. “Thing about grudge matches—they got a way of diggin’ deeper into you than you figure. Ain’t like you walk away whole, even if you’re the last man standin’.”

Charlie held Jed’s gaze, the weight of his words settling around him like the cold morning air. But he squared his shoulders, his resolve steady. “I know, Jed. But it’s about honor. José and I… we’ve got a debt to settle.”

Jed sighed again, his tone softening. “Honor, huh?” He scratched his head, a faint, cynical smile tugging at his mouth. “Funny word, that. Good for just about every foolhardy pursuit a man could chase. But if that’s where your heart’s leadin’ you, then I reckon I won’t stand in your way.” He gestured to the trail with a slight nod. “Just make sure you’re ready for whatever piece of yourself you might have to leave behind.”

Charlie’s face softened as he took in Jed’s words, and he nodded, bracing himself for the path ahead. The two of them moved carefully, their steps slow and deliberate, following the blood trail that wound through the scrub. As they followed the trail, it wound through patches of tall grass and dense scrub, leading them to a small, weather-beaten house tucked away in a grove of trees. The place looked abandoned—windows half-covered in grime, shutters hanging loose, and a thin line of smoke curling up from the crooked chimney. Jed’s hand instinctively went to his revolver, his fingers wrapping around the grip as he held it behind him, just in case.

They approached the door with slow, deliberate steps, exchanging a wary glance. Charlie raised his hand, knocking on the old wooden door. After a pause, they heard shuffling from inside, the creak of old floorboards carrying through the still air.

The door opened a crack, revealing a figure who seemed more ghost than man—an old fellow with a thin, scraggly beard, his face weathered and deeply lined, eyes squinting out at them from beneath a shaggy brow.

“Well now,” the old man said, his voice thin but friendly. “Didn’t expect company today. Name’s George. And… you boys are?”

Charlie and Jed exchanged a look of utter bewilderment. This didn’t match any scenario they’d imagined when they first spotted that blood trail