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“If I knew you were gonna turn up, I would have slowed down. Hardly in a fit state for my first encounter with one of your kind.”
“Don’t worry about that Arthur, I’m just over the moon you can see me.”
Kieran looked it too, the exact opposite of how Arthur felt. Also sort of pale and see through, which he could relate to better. Arthur glanced around the dark room, with its low beams and smoke-stained walls. This was not the same place he had started drinking at this - yesterday’s - morning. He was not sure how he got here but here he was, and here was Kieran, perched half on, half through the stool across from him.
“So you just popped in to say hello? Bring anyone else with you?” Arthur hazily watched the door. Not that it mattered now.
“Nope, just me. How are you Arthur?”
“I’m drunk and I’m dying and now I’m hallucinating. Just peachy.”
“I’m sorry. I saw what happened with Dutch and – well I’m just sorry it all turned out so bad.”
“Not your fault, O’Driscoll. Not your fault at all. Suppose I always knew it was gonna turn out this way. Just a damn shame.”
“I don’t think I’m a hallucination, though. I’ve been seeing and thinking for too long for that. I don’t rightly know what I am. A ghost seems most likely to me, but I don’t have any way to prove it you.”
“Well, it doesn’t matter now. You be whatever you are Kieran. And I’ll be me.”
“It’s just, you see, I’ve been watching the gang for a while now. Since I died, I mean. Not all the time, just you know, out in public and-"
Arthur laughed so hard the bar’s other patrons, previously studiously avoiding looking at the large crazy man in the corner talking to himself, turned to see. Convulsions shook his chest, and he lowered his head to rest it on the table. “Ah Kieran, I could never dream you up. But it is good to know you’re not that kind of ghost.” He sat up and took a gasping breath, which should not have been so shallow. “But why are you still here? Don’t you have somewhere else to be?”
“Like a light? Well, I don’t know. Sometimes I feel a kind of pull, but I guess I’ve been putting it off. I’m not sure where I’m going to go to.”
“C’mon, you’re a good kid. You don’t have to worry about that.”
Kieran shook his head, which hurt Arthur’s eyes. “I’ve done a lot of bad things, and not enough good.”
“You’re young Kieran. You were so young.” The unfairness of it hit him, like a whiskey fuelled jab to the chest. “I’ve had a full life…”
“You’re not dead yet.”
“I will be soon.” He raised his glass and downed the last dregs. “That’s why I see you, isn’t it? No one else here can. You been able to speak with anyone else?”
“Mostly I haven’t had the urge to. And people just look right through me. Well, I guess I knew I wouldn’t be able to. I’m in a different place now to most people, that’s how I see it.”
“I can still see through you.” He could just switch his focus and see either Kieran’s face or the door behind him. And now and then his eyes just decided to do it on their own without his bidding. “I’m glad you got your head back.”
“Huh? My head?”
“Don’t worry about it. Well it is good to see you, Kieran. And you are welcome to keep me company while I have a few more drinks. But if you’ve come to stop me-”
“No, I haven’t – well… Maybe. It’s just - I need your help with something.”
He felt a smile rising on his lips, and didn’t want to laugh again, it hurt too much and took too much time. “I can’t help anyone anymore. And what does a ghost need? You don’t need me to lay you to rest. I’ve seen your grave, it’s in a pretty enough spot. Bet it’s nicer than mine’ll be.”
“Well, it’s just… I wanted to keep an eye on the gang, on all of you, to see what happened. To see things through sort of. But also for Branwen. I know she’s just a horse, but she’s a good horse. I’ve had her since she was a foal, almost ten years, that’s longer than I’ve had anyone else in my life. I needed to make sure she was alright.”
“Branwen.” Arthur tried to remember when he had last seen the flaxen roan mare. She had been in the paddock with the other horses before all the mess with Micah, and then he had not seen her while he stumbled down the slope into the trees - had that only been yesterday? All his energy had been focused on dragging himself down that mountain – for what Godforsaken reason he couldn’t fathom – and then putting one foot in front of the other on the walk to Van Horn.
“Thank you, by the way. For convincing Dutch not to sell her. I truly appreciate it.”
He shrugged. At the time he wouldn’t have said there was any sentiment behind telling Dutch they should keep the horse. What he said was true, she was a calm, sweet-natured horse, too old to fetch a high price. Foolish to sell her when there was such a high chance of one of their horses catching a stray bullet. It was only if Micah and Bill had kept arguing that he might have had to make a fight out of it.
“One of Micah’s men, one of the hired guns took her after his horse was shot. I followed them to Annesburg. He sold her to the mines. I can’t leave her there being worked to death under the ground. She belongs up in the sun and the air. I can’t leave her there but I can’t-” He reached out as if to pick up Arthur's glass, but his hand passed through the glass, and half the table, moving nothing, not even a breath of air.
“We’ll go get her then.” Arthur said, conveniently forgetting that he was having his own problems interacting with his surroundings right now and wasn’t sure he could stand. But he did, and made it to the door to sway out into the night’s air, thick with sea fog. Kieran stood next to him, not wavering in the breeze even a little, part of this world and not part of it. Arthur looked at him suspiciously -was the kid really here? He was starting to sober up, he realised, something he had planned on never having to do again.
Arthur opened his eyes, slowly. The earth underneath him rubbed against his cheek. Flat and gritty and even less comfortable than regular ground. He recognised it immediately – town ground.
A pair of see-through feet semi-blocked his view. “Morning.” Kieran crouched down, waiting for his return to the world.
“You’re still here.” Not a dream then. He sat up and was able to take a deep breath of smoggy air. Air this dirty had to be either St. Denis or… “We made it to Annesburg?” It was a bright early morning. Had there been an overnight train, had he hitched a lift?
“Yeah, you sure got here.”
“Good.” Arthur stood slowly, complaining under his breath. He shot a glare at a pair of passers-by, before stepping up from the street to the wooden sidewalk.
“How do you feel?”
“My bones feel like they’ve been pushed through a meat grinder and shoved back in in all the wrong places. And my head hurts.” But he could breathe, and he had stood without coughing. This was a good day. Sometimes if he just kept going it was almost like his force of mind could force his body to work. Now and then. Hardly ever. “So, where’s this horse?”.
“Over by the mines.” Kieran led the way, slipping between pedestrians and slowing down several times for Arthur to stop and cough. Forget about this being a good day.
The horses were stabled just out of town at the base of the track to the mines. At this time of the morning they were being tacked up and hitched to carts ready for the day’s work. Branwen, still in the paddock, stood out, both because of her unusual colour and because she did not yet look as weary as the other horses. She whickered, and walked to the fence as they approached, gazing down the road. Arthur wondered if it was him she recognised.
“Best to get her at night. There’s only one guard and he’s asleep half the time.”
“Don’t think we’ve got time.”
Kieran looked at him as if weighing up the rest of Arthur’s life. “I guess I could create a distraction.”
“Well,” Arthur stepped forward. “Better get on with it.”
To his shame, this wasn’t the worst planned heist he had participated in, and it certainly wasn’t the least successful. He couldn’t see what Kieran was doing over by the carts, but it was catching the loud and awed attention of the men. Having a ghost friend could open up a lot of opportunities. Imagine if Dutch could see this. Arthur saw him now, espousing on the ideological implications and his eyes lighting up at the practical.
As soon as he opened the gate Branwen walked right over, greeting him with a snuffle. He left the gate swinging and led her out. All he had to do was vault up into the saddle, something he had done a million times, from standing, from train, from another horse. But as he reached up his body decided it was time for a coughing fit. He still managed to drag himself, undignified, into a near sitting position in the saddle, but it took so long he didn’t realise he had attracted unwanted attention until a bullet ripped through his shoulder.
If there was one thing he was better at than riding it was shooting people. He had pulled the gun from his holster with his left hand and set off four good shots into the heads of anyone who looked like they might be armed before any had time to respond. A fitting last act, he supposed. And then he was off, crouched over Branwen’s back holding his bleeding shoulder, galloping north out of town.
Maybe it was the fever, but the world seemed brighter tonight than it had any right to be. Where the light filtered between the trees it hit the grass like a bomb of shining green. And the darkening sky was the softest velvet blue he had ever seen, the first stars appearing almost burning out his eyes. The grass around him bustled and hummed with life, sounds spread out, the birds singing dusk songs in the trees and the faraway howl of a wolf. His shoulder was numb, the blood coagulated, sticking his shirt to him like a second skin. It wouldn’t be enough to kill him if he was well. This ground beneath him was uneven, but a lot softer than the grit of the town. The world smelled sweet.
He relaxed back and watched the stars grow in the sky. The grass rustled behind him. “She like the horse?”
“Yeah, looked a little surprised to see a horse just wander up, but certainly happy. Seems like a good place. I think Branwen will be happy here.” Kieran settled down next to him.
“So you finished what you stuck around for?”
“I guess so. Probably should be thinking about moving on. Walking into the light, if I can find one.” He drew his legs up and wrapped his arms around his knees, looking substantially more solid than a few hours ago.
“Ah Kieran, I wish I had met you differently. You should never have been an outlaw, you should have had a good life. Hell neither should I, be damned if I’m good at it.” The wheezing breath he had to draw at the end of three sentences rattled on for far too long, disturbing the night.
“You did good too Arthur. You helped a lot of people, more than you think. Thank you, for helping me.” Kieran’s hand felt warm, about as human as his.
Arthur closed his eyes. For once he didn’t want to disagree with Kieran, even if what he said wasn’t true. “Will you stay with me, till the end?” He supposed he had been lucky to have time; most people never got to tie up loose ends. He should have used that time to get used to the idea of dying, to get sick of this place. But despite trying his best, he hadn’t managed it.
“Of course.”
He hadn’t known why he had dragged himself down from that mountain, still didn’t, but he was glad. He had stolen two more days, another sunset. He could see Kieran again, help him, set his mind at ease – that was something. To atone for the wrongs he had done the boy which had started so long before he met him. Funny how you can be so close to the end, and then fate decides it has other plans, and pulls you right back out of the ground.
He heard hoofbeats in the grass behind him.