A Bad Bet

"A Bad Bet" (Prompt #2 A Quest)
Word Count:2940
Cian leaned back in his chair, his hands waving defensively in front of him, desperate to fend off the onslaught of blueberry pie.
“Ma’am I thank you for the offer but I surely could not eat another bite.”
Mrs. Westburn set the pie onto the table, feigning insult. “Mr. Lily, I don’t think you understand just how malnourished you appear. What kind of good Christian would I be if I did not attempt to nurture you back to health?”
Cian opened his mouth to reply but let out a long belch instead. Embarrassed, he looked away while muttering a quick apology.
Across from him, Mr. Westburn burst into laughter, slapping his abundant waist. “The best of luck to you, Mr. Lily. Once my wife has decided something, it's near impossible to sway her from the path. Hell, she still thinks I’m underweight.”
Mrs. Westburn wagged a plump finger at her husband. “You’ll stop your swearing while under this roof, Nicholas Yanik Westburn, or you’ll be sleeping with the hogs this very evening.”
Nicholas threw his hands up in defeat. “You are absolutely right, my dearest. I apologize for my transgression. But let the man be, woman. You’ve stuffed him so full he’s fit to burst. Murdering a man with food is still a sin in the eyes of the Lord.” He winked at Cian.
“Fine”, replied Mrs. Westburn as she snatched the pie up and turned back to Cian. “At least allow me to wrap some food for you on your travels.”
Cian smiled and nodded in concession. “That would be greatly appreciated, ma’am.” He turned to Mr. Westburn, “As long as I’m not taking from your plates, that is, sir.”
Mr. Westburn waved him off. “Best to let her do her thing, Mr. Lily. We’ve plenty for just the two of us. Oh, and please call me Nicholas. None of this ‘sir’ needed.”
Cian turned a smiling face up to Mrs. Westburn. “Then it would be my honor to take some of your delicious cooking with me. Can I help clear the table?”
Mrs. Westburn shot a smug look over to her husband who was already rolling his eyes. “See how a true gentleman acts? Thank you Mr. Lily, but I can manage. I’m sure my husband is aching for a sit on the porch.”
Nicholas’s eyes lit up and he clapped his hands. “Quite right, my dearest. Mr. Lily, would you care to join me outside for a spot of fresh air and a light?”
“Why I would be delighted, but only if you call me Cian. None of this ‘Mr. Lily’ please.” The last said with a wide grin. He followed Nicholas outside where three wooden rocking chairs lined in a row along the covered porch.
Nicholas nodded towards the chairs. “Have a seat.” He stepped back inside for a moment, returning with a pipe and tobacco pouch. “I only have the one pipe but you are welcome to some of my tobacco. Its quality.” He sat down with a huff, relaxing into the chair closest to the door. Cian had taking the middle seat, assuming Mrs. Westburn wouldn’t be joining them.
Cian shook his head. “Thank you, but no, I don’t partake. Tried it once and damned near made me sick to death. Never took to the taste of chew either. But I don’t harbor any ill will to those that do, mind you. Fact is, I kinda like the aroma of a good pipe. You get used to it when there’s nothing much else to do before they’d sound lights out.”
“You were in the war then.” Stated not asked. There was a hint of sadness when he said it.
“Yes, sir…I mean, sorry, Nicholas. But yes, enlisted in New York.”
The older man focused on his pipe, tamping down his tobacco. He drew a small metal case fro the pouch and extracted a match. Striking it against the chair arm, it flared to life. He drew it close but just held it above the bowl, suddenly lost in the flame. Cian saw it reflected in the man’s eyes which had grown watery.
“Damned war brought nothin’ but pain and sorrow to families.” It came out in a hoarse whisper. Then the moment was gone and he drew in deep breaths, the flame pulling down into the bowl and igniting the rich tobacco.
Cian looked to his left at the third empty chair. “I’m sorry for your loss, sir”, was all he could think to say.
“Nothing for you to apologize for, son. We move on.”
Now it was Cian’s turn to grow quiet as he forced old memories away. “That’s about all some of us can do.”
Nicholas drew in a deep breath and slowly blew the smoke up and they both watched as it swirled and curled its way to the wood beams above. “Cian, that’s what, Irish or Welsh or something?”
“Irish. My folks came over in ’44. I was born a year later. My mother was murdered when I was 14 and my father was killed when I reached 16. They were looking for recruits at the time and I had no other real prospects so I joined. Got out in ’65 and spent a couple of years surviving in New York but there was nothing there for me so I packed up and headed west.”
“And here you are now. What brings you to the Dakotas? Is it the gold they whisper about supposedly up in those mountains? You don’t look much like a farmer. No offense meant.”
Cian chuckled. “None taken. My mother grew herbs and medicinal plants that I took a shine to but I am definitely no farmer. I don’t really have a plan. I’ll do odd jobs when I need to for money.”
Cian went quiet and they both sat there, rocking gently as dusk slowly came upon them. Finally, Nicholas turned his head and stared at Cian for a long minute. “Why are you really here?”
Cian stared back, not breaking eye contact. “Truth? I’m tracking a man that did me wrong. Been after him for a better part of two weeks now.”
“What did he do?”
“I was down in the Nebraska Territory, passing through Omaha. I got into a card game with a few fellas. One of them was mighty strange though. Older gentleman sitting across from me, wore a pair of tinted glasses black as pitch, they were. Claimed he was overly sensitive to light. Everything was going just fine but at some point, that old guy starts waging nonsense. Says he has a dragon’s egg he’ll bet against our sight. We told him to knock it off but he persisted, offering up even wilder things. The man acted like he had up and lost his wits.
Well sure enough the other fellas had had enough of his foolishness and decided it was late enough so they up and excused themselves. So it was just him and me. I should have got up and said my goodnight as well but I’d had enough spirit poured down my throat that I was feeling a might froggy. I was a damned fool for sure.”
Nicholas kept quiet, but he’d stopped rocking.
“I told the old man I’d play one more hand, play the cards dealt but I got to shuffle and deal. He didn’t hesitate to say yes. So I shuffled those cards for a good minute or more before I dealt out five cards each. I took the remaining stack and placed it where one of the other fellas had been sitting.
I picked up my cards and I ain’t gonna lie. It was hard to hide my excitement. I was holding two cowboys and two brothers, ace high. I looked over and the old man was just staring at his hand, no expression on his face. He finally looked up at me and asked what I wanted. I told him that dragon’s egg sounded mighty nice but not for my sight cause what’s the point of owning a dragon if I can’t see the damn thing? I laughed at that but he didn’t. He thought about it and said my shadow would do.”
Cian paused and rubbed his face. By now the shadows had grown long and the sun had just dipped beyond the horizon. There was still a beautiful glow in the clouds but there at the base of the mountains, things began to feel cold.
“It was the way he said it, you know? ‘My shadow would do’. I swear to heaven a shiver ran down the length of me. But I was holding that hand, that amazing hand. So I told him he had a deal. Then he motioned and we both laid our hands on the table.”
Cian turned and looked almost pleading at Nicholas. “It was like I’d placed my hand in front of a mirror. Different suits, mind you, but there they were: two kings, two jacks and an ace. It was a damn tie!”
“Now the old man wasn’t happy and demanded we play another hand but I politely told him ‘no thank you’ and got the hell outta there. I was never so relieved to get back to the stable where I was sleeping. I figured I’d get a few winks and head out early.”
Cian stood and walked the length of the porch and back. “When I woke up I knew I’d overslept. The sun was too high already. I got up and went out to the trough to dunk my head cause I was feeling lightheaded. That’s when I noticed it was gone. I wasn’t casting no shadow anywhere. I don’t know if he drugged me somehow or what but that sonuvabitch took my goddamn shadow from me. And now I aim to get it back.”
Nicholas was quiet for a bit then stood without a word and entered the house. A moment later he returned with a lantern glowing bright. “Show me. Stand by the wall.”
Cian moved over and Nicholas stood in front of him, raising the lantern chest high. The chairs shadows jumped onto the wall, crisp and black but Cian cast nothing behind him. Nicholas let out a small gasp and reflexively made the sign of the cross.
“I’m no monster, Nicholas, I promise you that. Lord above, please don’t be scared.”
“It is not for you, my friend. He was here earlier today. An older man, same glasses as you described. He was all hunched over with a heavy sack upon his back, like it was weighing him down.”
“What? Why didn’t you say something sooner?”
“Quiet, my friend and just listen, okay? Listen to me. He asked for some water, nothing more. I told him he could use the ladle in the rain barrel by the side of the house. He thanks me and started to walk away but then stopped and turned back. He asked if I wanted to play a game. But there was something about the way he said it, something about the smile made my skin crawl. I told him ‘no’ and to be on his way when he’d had his fill. He thanks me again then went and got his drink. I watched him walk away until he disappeared into the trees and even then, I waited another half hour to be sure he was truly gone.”
“How long, Nicholas? How long ago was that?”
Nicholas held up a finger to quiet Cian. He lifted the glass covering the lantern flame and blew it out. Then he gently set it down, out of the way. He motioned for Cian to follow him as he stepped off the porch.
“Look up there.” Nicholas pointed above the tree line to the small but towering mountain just behind. A faint glow of a campfire could be seen flickering among the boulders high above. “That’s him, that’s the devil that took it from you.” He said it in a whisper, fear on its edges.
Cian placed his hand on Nicholas’s shoulder before heading over to his horse.
“Be careful, Cian. That is no ordinary man. You may be dealing with an infernal creature.”
Cian climbed up and turned the horse around. “Thank you Nicholas for your hospitality. Apologize to your wife for me, you are a lucky man.”
“I know my friend, I thank the Lord daily for her.”
With a quick nod, Cian rode off at a gallop. Nicholas watched him enter the forest and disappear from sight.

Cian crept forward, trying to make as little sound as possible. He’d tied his horse several yards back to be safe. He’d swapped his standard knife, a trusty Bowie for his Coureur Des Bois trader knife. This was a much older knife, given to him by his mother prior to her death. Unlike other trader knives, the blade of this one was made of iron, the hilt fashioned from the antler of one of Ireland’s red deer. Something told him iron would be far useful tonight over steel. Beyond that, his faithful Dragoon was strapped to his hip, a comforting weight.
The old man was singing in a language foreign to Cian. However it was beautiful. The man’s voice was strong and melodic. There was something familiar to to cadence but he couldn’t place it. Before he could think further on it, he’d reached his quarry.
There was no way he could approach the last fifty feet without being seen. The old man had set himself in a natural shelter, a shallow in the mountain face. Not a cave but deep enough to keep out of the elements. There were no boulders, stones or shrubbery close to the opening to hide behind.
He studied the old man. He was sitting on the other side of the fire, his back to the stone. He’d removed most of his clothing and his glasses. His body was lean but not frail like Cian’s had assumed. As the man sang, he moved his arms about in rhythm with the melody and Cian could clearly see defined musculature in his upper and lower arms. More mystery upon mystery.
Knowing there was nothing to be done about it, he walked out from the shadows and casually strolled up to the campsite. The old man stopped singing and opened his eyes. For a split second they shown bright like a night critter’s before fading to a light crystal blue.
“You have something of mine and I want it back now.”
“Not even a ‘good evening’ or ‘sorry for the interruption’?
“No, sir. I figure there’s no reason for gentlemanly talk. Frankly neither of us are gentlemen and to be honest, I’m beginning to think you aren’t even a man.”
The old man simply smiled at that, hands resting in his lap. “You are a curious man, Mr. Cian Lily. One I take some interest in.”
“You remembered my name.”
“I remember everyone’s name I meet. Names carry power and power is delicious.”
“I want it back and I want it back now!”
“No, Mr. Lily, I won that fair and square.”
“It was a draw old man. That means a tie. Neither of us won. I ain’t here to argue. I aim to get my shadow back right now.”
The old man stood up quickly, surprising Cian and making him step back. “No, I think not.” “Damnit old man…” Cian started walking around the fire, pulling the Dragoon out.
The old man stepped back and flung something into Cian’s face. His body went numb, the pistol dropping uselessly to the ground. Cian stumbled forward, his legs giving out and he fell, twisting his body so his back slammed into the stone and he slid to a sitting position.
The old man walked up and knelt before him. “A tie means we both win, Mr. Lily. Sleep well.”

Cian woke with a start. The campfire was long out and the coolness of the morning was upon him. The sun’s rays were just breaking casting long shadows from unseen objects. His Colt lay where it fell. He felt refreshed and energized. Checking over himself, he found nothing missing, the knife still sheathed. As he stood, something caught his eye on the ground, just inside the recess. It was a large egg, shimmering in green and blue hues. Cian retrieved his Dragoon and holstered it then walked over to the egg. He reached down and picked it up.
It was heavy, about the same weight as his Colt. The shell was rough with multiple bumps and dimples across its surface. However, nothing compared to the colors that danced across its surface. Even when he held it still, the colors moved like smoke, blending and swirling. The words of the old man came back to him, ‘tie means both win’.
“Doesn’t matter”, he said aloud. “Do you hear me? It doesn’t matter!” His words echoed out into the wild. He looked around, hoping to find any clue as to which direction the old man went. He found fresh tracks in the gravel heading higher up into the mountains. “Gotcha, old man”.
Cian would head back to the Westburn’s long enough to gather supplies and make arrangements for them to hold his horse and most of his gear. The egg would come with him as would the Colt, the Coureur Des Bois and his Whitworth Rifle, one of the few things he’d kept from his time in the service. The old man was getting his egg back and Cian was getting his shadow once and for all.