Only 06 - Winter Fire

Case circled the fallen Culpeppers. He kicked the guns away from their limp fingers before he bent over to check on the men.
    Both Culpeppers were still alive, but not very happy about it. As time wore on they would be less happy. All of their wounds were below the belt.
    â€œSorry, boys,” he said. “If you hadn’t been so damned fast on the draw, I’d have made a clean end of it for you. Those first bullets I took knocked me off my stride.”
    Slowly he stood. He stripped off his bandanna, wrapped it around his right thigh, and tied it tight.
    Blood welled up relentlessly. More blood welled from a wound on his right arm.
    â€œYou’re in a bad way, hombre,” Beaver said.
    Ignoring him, Case dug inside his shirt, pulled out a “Wanted Dead or Alive” poster, and unrolled it against his body. Using his own blood as ink, he drew lines through the names of Quincy and Reginald Culpepper. There were other, older lines drawn. Other dead Culpeppers.
    There were names that had no line through them.
    Too many.
    â€œBetter get a move on,” Beaver said. “Them boys have kin. They’ll track you down and toast your brains over a slow fire same as ’Paches do.”
    Case dropped the poster between the two Culpeppers. Then he threw down a handful of coins.
    â€œHere’s the ante,” he said to Reginald. “Now you and Quincy can bet on who dies first.”
    Slowly Case backed toward the door. He watched Beaver every step of the way. Case might have been wounded, but the six-gun in his left hand never wavered from the other man’s chest.
    Beaver was very careful not to so much as blink.
    Once Case reached the door, he gave a high, oddly musical whistle, like the sound of a hawk calling from an empty sky.
    Hurry , he silently urged his horse. I’ve got to go to ground before I pass out .
    Brush rattled and canvas flapped as Cricket tore free and trotted toward his rider. Case reached for the saddle horn and hauled himself aboard.
    With each heartbeat, waves of pain and nausea washed over him. He set his teeth and tied himself to the saddle. His hands were frighteningly clumsy.
    Got to get home , he thought dizzily.
    But he had no home.
    With the last of his strength, he sent Cricket toward the stone wilderness at a dead run.

3
    â€œ B rung something for you,” Ute said.
    Sarah looked up from the hawk she was tending. One of the outlaws camped at Spring Canyon had decided to use the bird for target practice. Fortunately the hawk’s wing wasn’t broken. It would heal. But until then, the bird had to be fed or it would starve to death.
    â€œBooks?” she asked eagerly.
    Mouth agape, the hawk struggled to be free. She held it against her body and murmured soothingly.
    â€œSome of them, too,” Ute said.
    â€œWhat else?”
    He jerked his head toward the front of the cabin. “Best hurry. It won’t keep.”
    She gave him an odd glance but didn’t argue. She fitted a soft leather hood to the hawk’s head, tied its leg to a perch, and hurried outside.
    At first glance all Sarah really saw was the rider’s blood—dried, fresh, caked, oozing, blood everywhere on the man who was slumped over an equally bloody saddle.
    Then she recognized the stallion.
    â€œDear God,” she said. “ Case .”
    â€œFound him like this, so I brung him to you like all the other hurt critters.”
    â€œGet him down,” she said curtly.
    Then she began shouting orders.
    â€œConner! Conner! Come help Ute right now! Lola, bring your healing herbs!”
    Ute pulled out a knife that was as long as his forearm and went to work on the bindings that held Case in the saddle.
    As the last thongs were cut, Conner came running up from the creek. He was a big-boned, lean fifteen-year-old who hadn’t yet grown into his own body.
    â€œWhat’s wrong, sis?” he demanded.
    â€œTake a look,” she said, waving her hand at the bloody rider. “The Culpeppers must have found him.”
    Case started sliding out of the saddle. Conner grunted as he helped Ute catch the dead weight.
    â€œHell, he’s a big ’un,” Conner muttered.
    â€œDon’t swear,” she said automatically. “And the word is pronounced one , not ’ un .”
    â€œAre you going to lecture me on grammar or help this man?”
    â€œI can do both at once,” she snapped. “Bring Case inside and put him on