Trouble been doggin’ my soul since the day I was born.

Trouble by S. Ray LaMontagne

Hoss stared at the scruffy young face before him. The barest hint of chin whiskers reminded him of how desperate Little Joe was to see something sprout on his own bare chin. The kid couldn’t be no more than seventeen yet his eyes looked as if he’d seen a hundred years pass him by.

The gun pointed straight at his gut wobbled a little and Hoss tried not to move. The kid looked like he might just pull that trigger at any moment and he didn’t fancy having a hole through his new shirt. Hop Sing would surely pitch a fit at how much blood he’d have to get out and … Hoss suddenly pulled himself up short. He figured his thoughts were taking such a ridiculous turn as he compared the scared kid before him to his own little brother. Only last week, Joe had torn a sleeve off one of his shirts trying to prove he was ready to bust a cantankerous bronc and Hop Sing had been very indignant about having to sew it back on. Again!

Finally, he decided to try a different tack. The kid’s feet shuffled back as Hoss cleared his throat. He wasn’t half as sure as he’d sounded only a few minutes earlier when he’d threatened to blow Hoss’ head off.

“Now, it seems to me you don’t really wanna take a shot at me. You just need somethin’ that you think I’ve got.”

The kid licked at dry lips and tried to hold his hand steady. He’d watched as the giant man had walked out of the bank and stuffed something into his saddlebags and he’d figured he had an easy target when the man left town alone. Of course, Sophie had tried to argue with him, but what did a dumb girl know? That was why he’d stashed her behind the saloon and raced away, hoping to cut off one of the Cartwrights before he reached home.

“You got money in that saddlebag.” The kid waved his gun towards the bag and Hoss reached back behind him and pointed at it.

“Money? Nahh, I just got me some paperwork in here for my pa and a few other bits of things that ain’t much use to you. Here … let me show ya.”

“Hold it!”

Hoss paused as the gun waved closer to his face.

“You do know that shootin’ a man’ll get you strung up? You sure you want that kinda trouble?”

The kid snorted at him. “Trouble? Trouble been doggin’ my soul since the day I was born!”

“Hmmm. Well it looks ta me like a good feed and maybe a job might help fix some o’ that trouble.”

The kid shook his head in disbelief. “I’m trying to rob you and you talk about a job!”

Hoss shrugged and slowly nodded. “You look a mite young to be robbin’ folks for a livin’. And you remind me of my kid brother. Now Trouble’s his middle name!”