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I nodded.
A long, tense minute passed.
Then three, five.
“Maybe they’re—?”
“Shh,” my rescuer ordered.
He shifted his buckskin covered body on top of me to peer through the lattice of leafy branches. God, he weighed a ton, all solid muscle.
I moved my head to peek through the branches myself and spotted the two ragtag men for myself. They were searching the area and even came within a hairsbreadth of us. One wore denim overalls, the other vagabond miner’s clothes and a greasy red bandana around his bearded neck. Both men sported mean-looking rifles and looked hellbent to finish the job they started.
Overalls picked up and examined my shed coveralls with a dry sniff. “He was here. No blood though. Damn, I swore I got the bugger.”
“You did,” Bandana Man grumbled. He kicked my dropped coveralls aside, then hocked up and spit a revolting wad of something I didn’t even want to imagine onto them. “These aren’t his duds. Too small. Must be workin’ with another one. Maybe his mate. They like to hunt in pairs.”
“Two of them? Damn.”
“Must’a gone north,” Bandana Man said, squinting around in all directions. “Circle back around this hill, and I’ll head south to flank the mangy curs.”
“Damn, they’re fast,” Overalls remarked.
“Yeah. Strong, too, so watch your ass.”
“Yeah, my granddaddy said that about them.”
“Get going, before we lose either one. I’m not leaving this mountain without haulin’ both their furry carcasses back to camp with us.”
The two thugs said something else I couldn’t make out, then jaunted off in opposite directions.
Another long five minutes passed as my protector and I lay hidden in the bushes.
“I...I think they’re probably gone now,” I whispered nervously.
My rescuer started to respond, but squeezed his eyes shut as he grunted and curled into himself. He gripped his left clavicle and winced, and I spotted blood seeping through his fingers.
“You’re shot!” I gasped.
Instantly, I scooted out from under him, knelt over him, quickly pressing my own hands over his. It did little to staunch the streaming flow though.
The man painfully contracted again, sucking through gritted teeth. It was bad, really bad. He needed professional help, and he needed it now.
“We have to get you to a doctor!”
He shook his head. “I’ll...do.”
He started to stand, but immediately rolled onto his back with another groaning hiss.
“Let’s see,” I said, reaching for the shoulder of his buckskin shirt.
“Leave off,” he grumbled, shoving away my hand.
“Let’s see,” I stubbornly growled back.
A fierce, momentary face-off, and the man reluctantly he gave in and slumped back to the ground.
I pulled down the edge of the shirt to examine the wound. Besides the oozing blood, there were ugly blue streaks edging all around it. I couldn’t find an exit point, which meant the bullet was probably still inside of him.
