The sound of a shout beyond the boulders cut into her thoughts.It was so close.
Sheila turned and moved through the shadows as noiselessly as if she were one of them.She found a narrow crevice between two boulders, and the flickering light of a fire reflected on the sides.Flattening her body, she slipped between the rocks.On the other side, she found herself on a wide stone ledge that sloped upward.
As she crouched lower, she realized she was still carrying the dead man’s hat.She let it drop and edged forward.
The moon glowed on the half dozen ramshackle buildings beneath her.At the far end, a graveyard of discarded wooden equipment of various shapes guarded the open entrance of a mine.One long trough, broken down in places, ran from a small river that glinted with reflections of the shaved white orb in the sky.Hills encircled the camp, giving it a protected, bowl-shaped look.And in front of one of buildings, three men sat around a campfire, talking.One of the voices occasionally rose, arguing some point.By another building, a corral held a dozen horses, and the saddles on the rails gleamed.
She’d made it.Somehow, Sheila had trailed them through the wilderness.She had successfully followed them to their camp.But what now?
There was no sign of her father; she was certain he was not one of the men around the fire.She needed to find him.She prayed he was alive.
As she watched, trying to decide on a plan, a man came from somewhere near the buildings and crossed to the horses.After saddling one of them, he mounted up and rode out of the camp, disappearing into the night.
Sheila knew she couldn’t stay where she was.She was not really any safer from animals here than she was on the trail.And if she survived the night, when the morning came, she’d be worse off.At least now, she could use the darkness to her advantage.
She made up her mind.She had to find a way down into that camp then slink through the shadows until she found the building where her father was being held.At the same time, she didn’t want to fall into the hands of Dodger and the sheriff.She shuddered at the thought of it.
Somehow, she needed to become invisible.She could not let herself be found.
She drew one long breath and steadied herself.Fear was no longer useful.Fear had carried her this far, but now she needed silence and patience and luck.
Sheila heard nothing.She sensed nothing.But when a man’s large, rough hand clapped over her mouth, terror fired through her like a lightning bolt.
ChapterThirty-Two
When Hornerand Dodger left the shack, night had been fast approaching, but that was some time ago.
Doc laid a hand on his patient’s forehead.It was hot, and the bullet wound in her shoulder was looking more inflamed all the time.As he touched the skin around it, her eyelids flickered and opened for a moment.She made an effort to speak, but she couldn’t quite manage it before her eyes closed again.
He looked at Lucas.The sheriff had warned him not to touch the young man lying unconscious by the stove.Doc was afraid that if he went against Horner’s orders, it would be worse for the outlaw.
At the sound of someone riding out of the camp, he got up and stood by the open door, looking out at the dark forms silhouetted by the crackling fire.He counted four.They were talking and arguing about their accomplishments in the gun battle.He couldn’t tell who was there, or whether the sheriff or Dodger sat among them.He didn’t hear their voices.
He didn’t know who had ridden off in the darkness, and he couldn’t think of a reason why they would go, unless it was to keep watch for intruders.
He scanned the bags and gear piled up near the men, looking for his valise and surgical case, but he couldn’t pick them out.
Lucas moaned, and as Doc looked around at him, he felt his anger and frustration growing.It wasn’t in him to sit and do nothing while two people were suffering.Horner’s callousness was worse than despicable.Even after a battle during the war, most commanders allowed the enemy forces a chance to recover the wounded so they could be tended to.
He looked back out at the men around the fire, wondering what Horner was planning, wondering how it would all end.He didn’t have a good feeling about it.
Lucas stirred by the stove and began to regain consciousness.He was clearly in pain, and Doc could no longer refrain from seeing to the injured gunslinger.Going over, he began to work on the young man.
The bullet had lodged itself in the biceps brachii.Somehow, it hadn’t exited cleanly, but it hadn’t broken the humerus, either.He was lucky about that, anyway.
As Doc worked, Lucas bore the pain with as much courage as any man could hope to demonstrate.
“Don’t let them bastards hurt her,” he said through clenched teeth.“Let her die if you got to, Doc, but don’t let her suffer.”
Mothers and sons, he mused.The relationship between a parent and a child was a complicated one.
If he got through this, the first thing he was going to do was pack a bag, ride to Denver, and board a train for New York.No more letters.No more waiting.He’d surprise Sheila and hold her in his arms, as he should have been doing for too many years.
And if she was angry with him for staying away so long, he’d gladly accept every sharp word she had to give him.It would still mean she was safe.Alive.
“What are they doing?”Lucas asked.
Doc continued to work on the battered face of the young man.When he finished cleaning the cuts and the abrasions, he’d need to straighten that nose.
