Chapter 2

Percy had heardthe commotion outside the saloon and, like everyone else, went to investigate. A man and his two horses were being rounded up by that nuisance dog that had bit at the horses’ hooves the night before. People were gathered around watching, unsure of what to do. Perhaps frightened by the size of the unsettled horse or the aggressive dog.

Fools, Percy thought. Don’t just stand there!

But stand there, they did.

The dog was savage, and the black horse was big. Percy couldn’t deny the scene was intimidating, especially given the horse was rearing up, braying, and kicking. It wasn’t the horse’s fault, nor was it the horse owner’s fault either. That stupid dog snapped at horses’ hooves, and it would serve itself right if it were kicked in the head.

Before Percy could stop himself, he ran into the middle of it all and grabbed the black horse’s reins. It took all his strength to hold him, every muscle straining, and at least someone had the sense to hunt the dog away with a broom.

The crowd gathered around them muttered and whispered, and Percy calmed the horse with soft words and gentle strokes, leading it back to his owner. He was young, not much older than Percy, if he were to guess. He was tall, had short brown hair, tanned skin, and light brown eyes, and Percy had to make himself not stare.

So very handsome.

Don’t get caught staring...

“He almost got away from ya,” he said, handing the tether to the owner. “Fine-looking horse it is.”

And it was. At least sixteen hands, black as night, bright eyes.

“Thank you,” the man said, still a little breathless. He gave the big horse a reassuring pat and did a quick once over. “That blasted dog...”

“Nuisance dog, it is,” Percy said. “It’s with the last bullock team that came through. Reckon they’ll be gone tonight.” He ran his hand through his hair and Percy caught the man’s eye for the briefest flicker before he looked away.

“I’m indebted to you,” the man said.

“It was no problem at all, mister.”

He stuck out his hand. “The name’s Albie Bramwell.”

Percy smiled as he took his hand to shake. His grip was strong, but his eyes... there was a flicker of something, held for a beat too long. Percy had to make himself speak. “Nice to meet you, Albie. I’m Percy Collins.”

“Well, Percy Collins, you know how to handle a horse.” He took the reins from him. “Ox here is as strong as his name suggests.”

Ox. That made Percy smile. “Great name. And yes, born and raised around horses. Could ride before I could walk.”

Albie smiled at that, then pointed his chin to the railing outside the saloon. He began to tether them to it. “I need to see about a room for the night. Thank you again.”

“Oh, right then,” Percy said. “I might see you around. I’m staying here too. Looking for work if you know of anything.” He wasn’t normally so brazen but he was getting desperate. His money was running low.

Albie looked him up and down, then pulled his hat low to hide his eyes. “If I hear of anything...”

Albie disappeared up the steps and into the saloon, and Percy stood there a moment watching the doors swinging in his wake.

Most of the crowd of onlookers were gone now, the few still standing there with not much else better to do, apparently. They were the pretentious kind in fine suits that looked down their noses at the likes of Percy. If only they knew he was once like them, with the clean tailored clothes...

“That’s the Bramwell kid,” he heard one of the men say. “I recognise his old man’s horse. Shame what happened to Arthur. He was a good man.”

“Hm.” The other man nodded, pursing his lips. “I heard his men upped and left him. Wouldn’t work for a kid. Can’t say I blame ’em. Des Blackwell stayed on though. And that Robert Fuller.”

The sour-faced man snorted. “A cripple and a drunk. A farm of misfits.”

“Des is a good man,” he said. “Cripple or no, he’s loyal to a fault.” He shook his head. “It’ll be to his detriment. How long do you reckon before the kid loses it all?”

“A few months, maybe.”

Percy didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but it was difficult not to overhear.

“It’ll be worthless soon enough, and McAllister will buy the place for pennies. And that’s if the mountains don’t kill the boy first.”

Albie came back out and he was staring at the two men. Percy could only guess he’d heard part of their conversation, or all of it, and from the way they’d straightened up, the two men guessed as much too. Albie tipped his hat to them but said nothing.

He untied his horses and gave the men a scathing look as he turned them and walked them to the side of the saloon. Percy couldn’t help but smile as they went on their way. And he had to wonder about this Albie Bramwell; his reputation preceded him. He had his own property? At his age?

It must have been quite the story for the people in the town to be talking about it.

But his men had left him, which meant maybe he did need some help. A farmhand or a stable hand, Percy didn’t care at this point. So, with that in mind, he followed Albie around the side of the saloon, no doubt taking his horses to the stables.

He went in, the smell of horse sweat and dung was cloying and familiar, and sure enough, Albie was tending to his horses in the end stall. He was taking the saddle off Ox and startled when Percy cleared his throat.

“Oh, I wasn’t expecting company,” he said, dumping the saddle onto the rail.

“I just wanted to say not to let the likes of those men bother you,” Percy said. “Can’t mind their business, apparently.”

Albie gave a wry smile as he took the bridle off Ox and gave his neck a pat. “I don’t care what they think.” Then he looked around. “Are you here for something?”

Percy glanced behind him, embarrassed at being caught following him. “My horse is across the stall. I was just coming to check on him,” he lied. He’d checked on him not too long ago. He went to the stall and his horse, Bandit, came to nudge him. He smiled as he stroked his neck. “I couldn’t help but overhear what they said,” he said, still patting Bandit and not looking Albie’s way. “That your men quit on you.”

There was only silence in response, and when Percy turned around, Albie took a shovel of horse dung and slumped it against the wall. “That’s what I think of that.”

Percy hadn’t meant to upset him, but the horse-dung analogy was fair. “At least manure’s useful. Great for garden beds.”

Albie put the shovel away and wiped his forehead with the back of his hand, and Percy’d be damned, but Albie smiled in a way that Percy had to blink a few times to clear his mind from the dangerous places it took him. “I, uh, yeah, sorry. I just wanted to say that if you need a farmhand or a stable hand, or anything, that I’m looking for work. I’ve got a purse of silver that’s getting lighter every day, but I don’t need much pay. Just a roof over my head and one or two squares a day.”

Albie looked Percy up and down. “You’re on your own?”

Percy nodded and ran his hand through his hair, trying to straighten it some. “I am. I’m eighteen, a grown man, and I’m a hard worker. I have my own horse, and I’d be no trouble.”

Albie stared, and what he was thinking, Percy had no clue.

“I’ve got some errands to run today,” he said, dusting his hands on his pants. “I best get them done.” And with that, he turned and walked out.

Percy gave Bandit a frown. “Had to try, didn’t I?”

Percy would rather not eat at all if it meant he didn’t have to sell his horse. He refused to even consider it. Bandit was all he had in the world, and he’d be damned if he ever went back to his family with his tail between his legs.

Bandit snorted and nodded his head up and down. At least it drew a smile out of Percy.

“Yeah, you and me,” he said. “We’ll be okay. Even if we have to sleep under the stars. And if you eat grass, it can’t be that bad. Maybe I could try it?—”

He felt eyes on him, so he turned and found Albie at the stable doors. “Forgot my wallet,” he said, coming back in.

He went into his stall and came back out a moment later, patting his pocket down. “So,” he said, that dangerous smile on his handsome face. “You talk to your horse often?”

“All the time,” Percy admitted. “He’s a real good listener. Never complains.”

Albie’s smile grew enough to show his teeth. He licked his bottom lip, and Percy had to blink again. He cleared his throat and wiped his hands on his shirt. “I’ll let you get to running your errands,” Percy said, and it was Percy who walked out this time, the fresh air enough to clear his mind.

Dangerous thoughts, indeed.

It wasn’t proper to think of men that way. At least not in front of them. He could save his dirty thoughts for later, in the privacy of his room.

Of sun-kissed skin and syrup-coloured eyes, of a crooked smile.

And with a deep breath, he went back down to the bullock yards, hoping to score himself a few shillings for mucking out.

* * *

Percy didn’t think much elseof Albie Bramwell that day until he got back to the saloon. He was filthy dirty and starving hungry, so he set about washing up before he went in search of food. The boarding rooms above the saloon were small and mostly bare. A single bed and a dresser with a basin on top, jugs of water to be collected from the communal laundry-washroom.

His shirt was splattered with bullock dung, so he took it off and washed his face, cleaning himself up the best he could. His pants were a mess, but the least he could do was wash his shirt. And when that was done, he took the basin of filthy water to dispose of in the washroom. He walked out of his room and ran smack-bang into Albie Bramwell. The dirty water splashed his shirt.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Percy said, taking a step back, trying not to spill any more water. He held the basin with one arm and stupidly tried to pat Albie’s shirt.

Albie took his wrist and stopped him. “Ah, it’s... it’s okay,” he said, brushing himself.

“No, it’s dirty water. If you need me to clean your shirt, I’ve just washed mine so it’s no bother?—”

“I didn’t bring a spare,” Albie said. “I’m only staying one night. Be gone in the morning. It’s fine. It’ll dry.” Then he made a face. “Well, it’ll stink, but it’ll dry.”

Percy felt bad. “I am sorry. I was mucking out the bullock lots, and it’s messy work, so I wanted to clean up before I ate something. The saloon cook will hunt me out if I stink up her kitchen.”

Albie did that dangerous smirk again. “It’s fine. And I know the cook. She’s not that mean. The barmaid, on the other hand... She’s the one to watch.”

Percy smiled at him. He was actually talking to him, joking even. He felt like a foolish boy in the company of this man, and it was unnerving. He felt a lot of things in the company of this man that were unnerving...

“Do you always leave your room without a shirt?” Albie asked.

Percy looked down at himself. He was wearing an undershirt. It wasn’t like he had no shirt on at all. He was about to say as much when he noticed Albie smiling. “I’ll be sure to dress appropriately when I go downstairs,” Percy said.

Albie smirked, pulled his hat down, and brushed past him. “See that you do.”

Percy stood in the hallway, his heart hammering, his belly full of butterflies. The water in his basin sloshed a little and it reminded him of what he was supposed to be doing.

A short time later, he went downstairs in search of food. And yes, he had on a proper shirt. One of his best shirts, actually. Not that he had many. But let’s see what Albie Bramwell thought of him now.

What he thought of him was not much apparently, because, for the next hour or so, Albie sat there and talked to Elsie, the barmaid. Looking too comfortable and he even laughed, and she touched his shoulder, leaving him to eat his stew and bread.

He’d said he knew her, so Percy shouldn’t have been surprised.

No, he wasn’t surprised.

He was jealous and disappointed, which made no sense on either part. Because Percy had never met another man like himself. That had impure thoughts of other men. They all only had eyes for women, which was fine and understandable, and oh, how Percy sometimes wished he did too. His life would be so much easier. He’d still be at home, getting married as his parents had wanted. But he wasn’t, and he couldn’t lie to himself or to the poor girl he was supposed to marry?—

“What business is it of yours?” Albie said.

Percy whipped his head around to see a man standing at Albie’s table. He’d seen this man around town before, though he didn’t know his name.

“Because you’re a boy, Bramwell.”

“I’ll not have my father’s name sullied because you don’t think me worthy,” Albie said, standing up. He was a fraction taller than the other man but not as wide. The other man looked hard-worn and strong. Though that didn’t seem to worry Albie because he wasn’t backing down. He stared him dead in the eye, fierce as anything. “The deeds are mine, my father’s family name is mine, and you’ll need to take both over my cold, dead body.”

The man grabbed Albie’s shirt and Percy was up and off his seat without thinking. He stood between them, staring at the man whose name he still didn’t know. “You don’t get to call him a boy, then try and fight him. Unless you only fight boys? If you fight men, like a real man, then admit that’s what you consider him. You don’t get it both ways.”

Elsie was there then, with her shoulders back, spine straight, voice stern. “Peter Winnicott, I’ll not have any of this nonsense in this bar, you hear? You want to start something, take it outside.”

Albie raised his chin as if he was okay with that, but Percy pushed him back. “No, there’ll be no fighting.” He gave Elsie an apologetic nod. “Sorry.”

Peter Winnicott grunted and grumbled, giving Percy a scathing glare as he turned and walked away, and Percy’s breath left him in a rush.

“I didn’t need your help,” Albie said.

“You were about to need a doctor,” Percy murmured. “You’re welcome, by the way.”

Albie straightened his shirt, collecting himself with a few deep breaths. “If he only fights men then admit that’s what you consider him, huh?”

Percy winced. “Yeah. Sorry. But this whole boy nonsense really yanks my chain,” he grumbled. “I get nothing but condescending, scornful—” He had to stop himself from ranting, but he knew all too well the prejudice Albie faced because he faced it too. “I’m a grown man, as much as any of them. Same as you. I’m not a child anymore.”

Albie studied Percy for a long second, and Percy could barely make himself meet his gaze. He was mad now. Mad for Albie, mad for himself.

Until Albie smirked. “I can’t offer much in the way of wages just yet, but I’ve got the work for you and a roof over your head and a stable for your horse if you want it. I’m leaving after breakfast. If you want the job, you’ll be ready when I am.”

Percy grinned, feeling true happiness and a glimmer of hope for the first time in far too long. “Absolutely. I’ll be there. You won’t be disappointed. I promise.”