She was trying hard not to let him see it.
Four bodies lay scattered between the pines and the cabin.When Caleb approached the nearest one, a low groan drifted from the man sprawled in the grass.
Bear immediately growled.
“It’s all right, boy,” Caleb said quietly.“He ain’t going nowhere.”
The rustler lay curled on his side, hat and rifle on the ground nearby.Caleb carefully nudged the fallen revolver farther away before kneeling.
“He’s alive?”Sheila’s voice came softly behind him.
“For now.”
She moved closer.
The bullet had struck the man below the ribs.Even in the dim light, Caleb could tell the wound was bad.
“But these others…” Sheila looked around the meadow.“They’re all dead.”
Her voice held sorrow now more than outrage.
“Would you mind helping me here, Miss Burnett?”
She looked startled by the request.“Of course.What can I do?”
There was something of her father in that — the instinct toward help rather than away from it.And for the first time since meeting her, the sharp edge between them eased slightly.
“There’s a lantern hanging beside the hearth inside the cabin.Could you light it and bring it back?”
She nodded immediately and hurried toward the cabin.
Caleb gently rolled the wounded rustler onto his back.
“I’m sorry for coming after you,” the man rasped weakly.“We only meant to take the cattle.”
Caleb glanced toward the dark silhouette of his unfinished cabin.
His home.
“Save your strength, fella.”
“Ain’t much point now.”The man coughed painfully.“Listen.I got a ma back in Michigan…”
Caleb studied him a moment.Late twenties, maybe.Young enough that life should’ve stretched farther ahead than this lonely Colorado meadow.
“You’ll see her again,” Caleb said quietly, though he doubted it himself.
The man clutched weakly at Caleb’s sleeve.
“Letter…inside pocket…”
“I’ll see she gets it.”
Footsteps approached through the grass as Sheila returned carrying the lantern.
The rustler’s breathing hitched once.Then stopped.
Caleb lowered his eyes briefly before reaching into the man’s coat for the letter.
