[color=springgreen][h2][center]Meru & Gilead[/center][/h2][/color] [hr] As the huddled buildings and voices of Ulysses fell away behind him, the beautiful desolation of the American West opened up, seemingly endless stretches of inhospitable desert and untarnished blue sky. [url=https://c8.alamy.com/comp/BHBNEA/blue-roan-quarter-horse-mare-BHBNEA.jpg]Plum[/url] rocked gently beneath Gilead’s feet, sinewed pistons rippling beneath her shimmering pale coat as they tore across the horizon. Samuel was at his best here; perched expertly upon the saddle, legs absorbing the shock, body focused and balanced upon the mare as if they were the same entity. The frontiersman turned his visage downward, meeting the wild eyes of Meru, the smaller beast keeping an uncannily natural pace with the powerful quarter horse. The mad grin plastered on the creature’s muzzle sent a cold trickle of sweat run down Gilead’s spine, the taste of copper filling his mouth, swirls of disjointed images cascading through mind’s eye. Strange clouds threatened in the distance, as apprehension wriggled about in Gilead’s mind, but it was not born of fear. It came from somewhere else. A place he could not reach. A place perhaps no one was meant to. It seemed Ulysses was attracting the misplaced and the bold from every walk of life, like moths to flame. He stole another glance at Meru. Or were they lambs to the slaughter? So enraptured by thought, he scarcely noticed the woman calling out to him before he was nearly on top of her. Plum skidded to a stop, whinnying bitterly at their abrupt change of pace. The mare was a demoness of speed trapped in an equine form, Gilead had often mused. Idly he stroked Plum’s neck, fingers running over the punctuated circular scarring which ran down its length, cooing in the mare’s ear as he circled the undertaker. Gilead cast an ugly grin at the woman, tipping the edge of his hat and coming to a halt just far enough from her vision to force her gaze to follow him away from the town. Though the significance of this was as amorphous as the intentions of the Coyote which coolly considered Sophia from his spot, planted firmly at the opposite outskirts of her peripheral. “Izzat so?" Samuel squawked, "Must be yer lucky day, as it be just as ya say, Ms. Wallace.” He craned across Plum’s neck toward the undertaker, cupping his hand to his mouth. Gilead’s voice slithered out in a ragged whisper. “Between yew and m’self, all money be green, but Meru & I 'ave suspicions yer got little interest in what ol’ Johnny Law has ta think bout dem poor Jefferson Farm, eh?” He tapped his hawkish nose with a finger, silver eyes twinkling keenly. Meru took a few cautious steps forward, wordlessly scrutinizing her features for a moment before trotting further down the road, stopping several paces ahead to look back at them. Gilead squirmed in his saddle, “Says company’ll crash our party afore long.” Another moment hung in the air, the ghoulish man staring towards the town as if it was no longer there, a look that seemed to reach beyond realms, before snapping back to attend Sophia. “Can ye ride?” He didn’t wait for a response, rearing Plum in a tight circle, the trio virtually disappearing in the cloud kicked up. From the billowing folds his chalky voice erupted “Then show me!”