rescuer convinced him, Emma couldn’t be sure.
“We will gather these cows and take them with us,” he announced. “If we find the herd along the way, we will return them. Otherwise we will take them home to Apple Grove, and I will send word to Hays for Luke to come and get them.”
Relief swept over Emma at the words. She lowered her head demurely to hide a smile she could not prevent.
One way or another, she would see Luke again when he reclaimed his cattle.
Luke squatted on his haunches in the grass, his gut churning as he inspected Jesse’s leg.
“It’s not that bad, Luke. If we splint it and wrap it tight, I can still ride.” Regardless of his brave words, pain pinched white creases at the corners of Jesse’s eyes, and he spoke in a clipped manner, as though every word was a struggle.
“Don’t be an idiot.” Luke didn’t mean to snap the words, but at the moment he couldn’t muster the effort to comfort his friend. “I can see your bone sticking through your pants. You aren’t riding anything but a wagon to the closest doctor.”
To take the sting out of his words, he gently clapped Jesse on the shoulder before he rose to his feet. Even that light movement caused the tough cowboy to hiss in pain.
Luke’s gaze strayed beyond the chuck wagon to a somber place in the prairie grass. Grief filled him at the sight of a pair of bodies, cocooned in blankets. Kirk would have made a fine trail boss one day soon. Luke would have recommended him without hesitation. And Willie—
A knot of sorrow threatened to choke off his breath. He cleared his throat, fighting against the sting of tears. That boy wasn’t but fifteen years old, on his second cattle drive and young enough to still be in love with the idea of life on the trail. At home he had a ma and a houseful of younger sisters and brothers. Around the nightly campfires he’d told how he aimed to send most of his pay back home to help out.
Jesse followed his gaze and spoke in a soft voice. “They died well, Luke.”
A sarcastic blast exploded from Luke’s mouth. “Yeah? I don’t see how any fifteen-year-old can die well. Or twenty-five-year-old, either. They are dead, same as those rustlers lying over yonder.”
His gaze switched to the second line of bodies, set off a little ways outside the campsite. His men had taken out four of the rustlers during the skirmish. Luke was fairly sure his rifle had not fired a fatal shot because he’d aimed over the bandits’ heads hoping to scare them off. He’d watched Griff charge at a pair of men as they galloped through the herd to scatter it, and the old cowhand had taken them both out. In the ensuing confusion of gunshots and shouts and stampeding cattle, Luke didn’t see the other two fall. He and his men found the bodies when their compadres high-tailed out of there in a cloud of dust.
A retching sound from nearby drew his attention to Charlie, who stood at the back of the chuck wagon, his waist bent as he vomited on the ground in front of his boots. Luke exchanged a sympathetic glance with Jesse, and then he went to put a steadying hand on the boy’s back.
“It’s all right, son.” He set his voice in a soothing tone. “You made it. You’re going to be fine.”
Charlie straightened and wiped the back of his hand across his mouth. “It ain’t that, boss.” His gaze strayed toward the rustlers’ bodies, and his skin took on a green tint. “I ain’t never shot nobody before.”
The agony in the young man’s voice twisted something inside Luke’s chest. How could he answer the soul-sick grief of someone who had taken a life, however justified? His hand still on Charlie’s back, he pulled the young man into an awkward embrace. “Don’t let guilt eat you up. You did what you had to do.”
“Does that make it okay?” Charlie’s voice sounded tortured. “I’ll never get used to this feeling. Never.”
Luke thumped his back before releasing him. “I pray you don’t.”
At the sound of hoofbeats, Luke turned to find Griff and Morris riding toward them. They stopped as McCann exited the chuck wagon with a pail of clean water and some strips of cloth to bind Jesse’s wound.
“Looks like we’ve lost about five hundred head,” Griff reported as they reined their mounts to a stop. “The