day seemed as good as any to die. He heard firing now and then but kept his head low, waiting. He had no ammo to waste, no food for the past two days and little water.
Through the blackness, a bullet came out of nowhere and hit him in the leg as if the gods of battle just wanted to kick him while he was down. It sliced through the muscle just below his knee like a freight train on fire. Duncan swore and tied his leg with his dirty bandanna so he wouldn’t lose too much blood, but within an hour blood had pooled in a foot-wide circle by his leg and was soaking into the soil.
“You all right, Duncan?” Wyatt shouted from fifty feet away.
Duncan could feel the pain of the wound all the way to his scalp, but he yelled back, “Fine.”
“Good, I’m moving in some for a better possession. You got enough cover?”
Duncan glanced at the hollow he’d made beneath the rock. “I’m digging in,” he answered. With trouble calling, he lowered his body into the hole at least far enough to not be seen easily by someone riding past. “I’ll be all right.”
He felt like he was getting weaker, but calling out for help would pull another out of the fight and they needed every man standing his ground. “If the shooting starts, I may move back some.” He knew he’d need a head start to the Rio if they retreated. With his leg he’d be lucky to walk, much less run to the river. “Once the fighting starts, don’t worry about me. I’ll catch up to you on the other side of the Rio if we have to make a run for it.”
“Sounds like a good plan.” Wyatt moved away.
Near dawn Duncan began to run a fever, and blood continued to drip from the soaked bandanna just below his knee. Now and then, if he remained perfectly still, he could almost feel a cool hand touch his brow. If he were home, the girls would take care of him. Emily would fret over him like she did a sick horse. Rose would boss him around, demanding he eat right, and Bethie would sing to him and pat his hand. They’d apologize for all the things they’d done to him and forgive him for all the things he’d done to them.
He and the girls might always fight and they’d been adopted into the McMurray clan just like he had, but Duncan considered them blood and he knew they felt the same way about him. If they knew he was in trouble they’d probably all three be riding like the wind to his aid. If something did happen to him, he knew without a doubt they’d see that his body made it home.
Duncan could almost hear them, and he felt a kind of peace knowing that he’d be buried on the side of a hill where for the rest of eternity he could look out over the ranch.
He slowly slipped into sleep, no longer concerned about the battle beyond the rock. No longer worrying about the fight.
As the sun touched the western horizon, Captain McNelly demanded that the cattle and the thieves who stole them be handed over to the rangers. He planned to stand his ground. No negotiations.
McNelly gave the bandits one hour to comply, and as darkness fell, the rangers prepared to fire.
All except one. As the cold wind howled, Duncan McMurray turned his back to the world and into the crevice beneath the rock and vanished as he drifted between life and death.
CHAPTER 11
EM LEFT THE SEWING ROOM WITH BLANKETS FOLDED neatly in the corner and made her way through the sleeping house to the kitchen. In a few minutes it would be dawn and her long day would begin. With the rain, she planned to make a quick journey for mail and supplies, then work in the barn. She doubted Lewton Paterson would want to join her there. It had been interesting having him tag along yesterday, but she didn’t want company today. The man made her nervous. She’d taken risks she shouldn’t have, and it seemed he’d been the one who always paid.
When she stepped into the large kitchen, she was surprised to find coffee already made. Rose usually woke early to start the bread, but not quite this early. Maybe, if her sister was up, they could have a few minutes to talk before anyone else crowded around. The only thing