Prompt: You're dangerous because you're honest, you're dangerous because you don't know what you want. (U2)


Another day, another friend at the wrong end of his pistol. Some days he wondered what were the odds against this kind of thing happening over and over… but mostly, it just made him angry.

"It's not too late, Matt. You can still turn yourself in."

The bawling and milling of two dozen rustled steers in the draw behind Matt Sweeney drowned the bark of laughter. "Not much of an option, is it?"

"Better than this." Adam jerked his chin toward the Lincoln brothers, herding the first of the stolen cattle out the other end. "Better than lowering yourself to the likes of them."

"You don't know anything. We've been friends longer than you've been alive, boy."

"Things change. People too." He nudged the black closer, trying not to be obvious. "You know that. You just don't want to admit it."

"Stop!" Matt's eyes narrowed, and he nodded abruptly toward the ground. "Get down."

"No." His hand was steady, but inside he was shaking. With rage? Grief? The injustice of once again being forced to watch a good man self-destruct? Adam's voice betrayed none of his turmoil. "Matt, you don't want to do this."

"No, I don't!" The words cracked like a whip. "But you had ta come, didn't you? You had ta poke your nose in where it don't belong, and now I gotta clean up where I didn't want no mess ta begin with."

The horse was restive beneath him. "So what are you planning to do?"

"I don't know, you sanctimonious bastard!"

From Matt Sweeney, it was practically a pet name—something along the lines of 'short shanks' or even 'granite-headed Yankee'. Maybe he was getting through.

Adam couldn't believe he was about to suggest this. "What if you just let me come along for a while?" If he only had a little more time…

"Uh-uh." The rifle trembled in his friend's hands. "Can't do it, Adam. You're dangerous because you're honest."

"You're dangerous because you don't know what you want!" They were out before he even knew what he was going to say, but the words were as true as any he'd ever spoken.

Matt scowled. "Now that's rubbish. You and me, we both know—"

"Julie?"

"Always."

"Or this?" Adam flung the words toward the disappearing cattle. "Because you can't want both."

The words actually succeeded in startling the other man. "I want somethin' ta give her, Adam. Somethin' more than a two-room cabin and a—"

"She'd throw it all in your face if she knew." Adam's jaw tightened. "You know that. So if you're willing to risk it, you can't really want her. Maybe you just like the idea of—"

The rifle came up, and Adam's pistol with it. Only one was steady.

"You bastard…" A whisper, but clearly audible above the din. Blue eyes strayed for a moment to the activity behind them.

Adam said a quick prayer, tightening his grip. "Come on, Matt. Don't make me do this."