After the second hour of hard riding on a horse and saddle that weren't his own, Doc was beginning to feel the soreness setting in. He pulled up on the reins, stopping for a moment to catch his breath. Larry stopped on a dime right behind him.
"Whaddya think yer doin'?"
"Just catchin' my breath fer a minute, if that's all right with you."
"Well maybe it ain't..."
Doc shifted slightly in his saddle, trying to relieve the strain he could feel in his adductor muscles. "When yer my age and you don't ride too often, you'll understand..."
"We don't got time ta waste ya ol' sawbones, so git movin'."
Doc glared at the man, but gently nudged the mare in the sides and made a clucking sound with his mouth. The horse began walking again, but at a considerably slower pace.
Larry yelled at Adams. "You either get that horse up to a cantor, or I'll do it for ya."
Sighing heavily, Doc pressed in on the horse with his thighs, noting again that his muscles were tightening with each mile. The mare began to cantor, and the old doctor gently held the leather in his left hand, guiding the horse with practiced ease while allowing the extra rein to sit in his right. Larry's horse galloped past and Adams could feel his mare wanting to match the gelding's pace. He calculated that given the size of his horse, and his own smaller stature, the mare he was on could most likely out run Larry's horse easily. Doc looked ahead and saw Stan riding out in front of them a good hundred yards or so, and for a moment the old doctor thought about making a break for it; and if Chester's life wasn't hanging in the balance, he would have tried it. Instead he allowed the mare to move into a gallop, holding pace with Larry's gelding.
But the gelding didn't like the crowding and spooked, neighing wildly.
Larry tried to pull back on the reins with both hands, but his horse began to buck, kicking his hooves out with fury. Doc's mare tried to run clear, but it was too late. One of the gelding's back legs caught the mare's forefront and the horse tripped, tumbling down in a heap, smashing Doc under her. The old man heard a bone snap and screamed in pain. Larry's horse threw him fiercely overhead, sending the man flying into the air, his head connecting with a rock as he hit the ground. Stan pulled up as he heard the commotion, and a moment later kicked his horse hard, heading toward the downed men. He jumped off his bay, and ran to Larry first, but the man's neck was broken. He went to Doc, who was pinned under the mare.
"You hurt bad, Doc?"
"Bad enough," Adams said through clenched teeth.
"Your horse has had it."
"Yeah."
"Can you move out from under her at all?"
Adams tried to free himself, but the pain that shot through him sent a wave of nausea radiating out to every nerve ending. "Can't..." He managed to say.
Stan let out a breath of air as he pulled his gun from its holster, taking aim.
Dillon had been following signs of the three horses from Dodge for a couple of hours, but tracking was slow in the dead of night. The prairie wasn't well lit thanks to the cloud cover and humidity of midsummer. From the spacing of the tracks he surmised that they were moving along at a pretty good clip, and the idea of that in such darkness didn't give Matt a good feeling. While Doc had been a good enough rider when he was younger, he hadn't spent as much time on a horse in recent years, preferring to make his rounds in his buggy. The bottom line was that Dillon didn't hold a lot of confidence in the old man's horsemanship should the animal hit a prairie dog hole or become spooked. Matt shivered.
The single shot echoed across the prairie with the ping of a .44 caliber pistol. Dillon pulled Buck up short, listening intently to the last of the ring, trying to determine its direction. Realizing it wasn't but a few miles off, Dillon spurred his large gelding, and Buck took off at a steady gallop. Matt silently prayed that he wouldn't find Doc lying out on the prairie with a bullet in him.