The stage pulled up at the far end of the street. The driver jumped down from the wagon seat. When he opened the door, a half-dozen men and women emerged.
Macie stared at them as they gathered their luggage and disappeared into the hotel. Patting the stallion’s shoulder, Macie muttered, “Where the heck are we?”
Two
“Where the heck are we?” Macie repeated when a wagon rumbled past, raising another cloud of dust. “And where the heck is my house?”
The horse, of course, had no answer.
Macie clucked to the stallion and he moved off briskly. She glanced from side to side as she rode down the street, which looked like a set out of every western movie she had ever seen. There were three saloons, a dry goods store, a bootery, a barber shop and a two-storey hotel. The assay office and the post office shared a false-fronted shop. The sheriff’s office was located in a red-brick building.
Several men and women stopped to stare at her as she rode past.
It had to be a dream, Macie mused, but if it was, it was the most realistic one she’d ever had. She could feel the breeze on her face, taste the dust. Beyond the last building, there was nothing but open prairie as far as the eye could see. Macie tugged on the stallion’s mane in an effort to turn him around, but the horse kept going.
“Whoa, boy,” she said, tugging on Lightning’s mane again. “I don’t want to go out there.”
But the stallion didn’t stop.
Macie was considering sliding off the horse and walking back to town when Lightning broke into a gallop. With a startled cry, she leaned low over the stallion’s neck, her hands clutching his mane, praying all the while that the horse wouldn’t step in a prairie dog hole and break its leg. Or her neck.
The horse was incredibly fast. Grass, trees and hills flew by in a blur as he raced across the ground until the town was far behind and there was nothing ahead but tall yellow grass and scattered stands of timber.
Just when she was beginning to think the animal would never stop, it slowed to a trot, then a walk, and came to a halt at the head of a shallow draw.
“About time,” she muttered. After taking a couple of deep breaths, she slid off the stallion’s back.
And found herself staring into a pair of dark eyes that belonged to a tall, dark man with a gun in his hand, a knife in his belt and a dark red stain spreading over the lower half of his shirt front.
Before she could think, before she could speak, the weapon fell from the man’s hand and he pitched forwards to land face down at her feet.
Pressing a hand to her rapidly beating heart, Macie stared at him.
Good Lord, was he dead?
She stood there, staring at him, wondering what to do, even though there was nothing shecoulddo. They were miles from town, and even if they weren’t, there was no way she could lift him on to the back of the horse. Besides, he really did look like he was dead.
Macie was still debating her next move when the stallion nudged her from behind. She stumbled forwards, landing on her knees beside the man. Reaching out to steady herself, she accidentally hit the dead man’s arm.
And he groaned.
Not dead then, she thought. But she still couldn’t lift him.
Kneeling there, she noticed a pair of saddlebags, a bedroll and a canteen lying in the dirt behind him. And beyond his gear, the body of a horse.
Heaving a sigh, Macie gained her feet. Maybe he had something in his bags she could use for bandages.
Rummaging inside, she found a box of ammunition, a sack of what looked like beef jerky and a clean shirt. Feeling like Florence Nightingale, Macie rolled the man on to his back, drew his knife from the sheath and cut the shirt into strips.
Taking her lower lip between her teeth, she lifted his bloodstained shirt, and gagged when she saw the bloody furrow in his left side, just above his belt. Had he been shot? She had never seen a gunshot wound before, but that’s what it was, she was sure of it. She wiped away the blood, then saw that the bullet hadn’t penetrated his flesh, just gouged a deep gash along his side.
Using water from the canteen, she cleaned it up as best she could, then wrapped several strips of cloth around his middle to staunch the blood. When that was done, she sat back on her heels and blew out a sigh. She had done all she could. The rest was up to him.
Macie glanced around, wondering how far they were from town. When she looked back at the man, he was awake and watching her.
“Water.” His voice was deep, raspy with pain.
Macie retrieved the canteen, uncapped it, and held it for him.
