Roy suggested they check the saloons before making their way out to Anderson's Field. Adam was glad he did. The Bucket o' Blood was nearly empty with only a few miners huddled in the corner, beer bottles stacked around them, squinting in the smoky atmosphere. Across the road in The Silver Dollar it was much busier and they heard the shouts and a tinny piano. The smell of alcohol hit them like an avalanche.
"Howdy, Sheriff. You're out late. Adam."
"We're looking for someone. Will Sullivan."
"Had to throw him out. He'd been here most of the day. Picked one too many fights. Aggressive beggar when he's had a few."
"Did he say he was going home?"
"Didn't say anything! He was vomiting and gurgling!" The barkeep saw Adam curl his nose.
"How long ago was this?"
"About an hour."
The two men made their way out to the horses and started their way east.
"With any luck he'll fall off and break his neck," Adam said.
"What would the child do then?"
"A lot better than she is now! He won't even know the poor kid's not there. We've got to do something about her, Roy."
"I don't know. I've got a few things to sort out first. I must see Cassandra, speak to her - "
"She's terrified!"
"I must see her, Adam, surely you realize that."
"I guess. Damn the fellow! I don't usually hate people, Roy, especially if I haven't even met them, but in this case..."
"I know. We'll get him. I don't know how, but we will. If the worst comes to the worst we'll get him for his cruelty to that horse, if nothing else."
"A world is wicked when a horse has more rights than a child," Adam murmured.
"The world is wicked alright, son."