Decisions and Desires

Chapter 10.

Next morning Chance was up and around before daylight had penetrated the run-down cabin. He heated up last night's coffee and sat by the window sipping it from an old tin mug. He was trying to figure the best way out of their situation. As he had pointed out to Van the night before, their choices were limited. He had checked on the lawman, and as far as he could tell the man had a fever which probably needed to be treated, but he had no way of helping him. The left side of the man's face was bruised and swollen from where Van had kicked him. It didn't look too pretty but he doubted it would kill him.

He sent Ketch to try to get the marshal to eat and drink something. It would be a lot easier to take him with them if he was strong enough to sit on a horse.

ooo000ooo

Matt awoke again. Each time things were a little clearer but he still he had very little memory of what had happened. If he tried to think too hard it seemed to make his head hurt even worse and his vision blurry.

He was vaguely aware thatl someone was sitting by the bed where he was lying. For a moment he hoped it was Kitty, but somehow he knew that wasn't so.

"C'mon now Marshal, try and take a little of this hash."

A spoon was pushed to his lips. The smell of the food alone was enough to sour his stomach and he turned his head away. The spoon retreated.

"Aw, I know it ain't real good, but Chance wanted me to get you to eat somethin' and it's all we got."

Matt managed to open his eyes a little more. The light was dim but he could just about make out a shape sitting next to him. He tried a little harder, the pounding in his head grew stronger but he wanted to see. The shape came into focus, an old man, wizened and scruffy. Whiskers covered most of his face, they were gray in color as were the few tufts of hair on his head. His skin was tanned from being out in all weathers - or maybe because it had been a while since he had bathed. He closed his eyes. it was too much effort to keep them open.

"Water." His mouth felt so dry he could barely get the word out, but the old man seemed to understand. He felt one hand behind his head, lifting it a little and then a dipper was pressed to his lips. The pain was excruciating but he needed the water and somehow he stayed conscious long enough to drink a mouthful or two before passing out and falling back to the pillow behind his head.

It was two hours later when four men on horseback left the old shack. Three of them were sitting upright in their saddles but the fourth was sprawled across the neck of a large buckskin which was led by a scruffy looking man riding an old sway back sorrel mare.

Several times they had to stop because the man on the buckskin did not have the strength to stay in the saddle. Van was getting angrier by the minute.

"He's just slowing us down, Chance. We need to finish him off now or just leave him for the buzzards." Van was standing by the buckskin trying to push the big man back into the saddle for the third time since they had left the cabin, but it wasn't working. The horse became agitated because of the ever shifting weight and side stepped away from the outlaw resulting in the lawman falling to the ground. He landed on his back and the sun reflected off of the badge on his chest. Suddenly Van had a better idea. He leaned over and removed the badge, then he started going through the Marshal's pocket to find the warrant he should be carrying - but found nothing.

"We don't need him Chance, this is all we need." He held up the metal star, "Do you want to wear it or shall I."

"I don't think I want to." Chance was squatting down and checking the man on the ground. He had to agree with his cousin. It didn't look like he'd make it much further. He hated to leave him out here alone but didn't see much way to avoid that now. His eyes searched around for a shaded place to put him. There weren't any trees here to offer shelter, but there was a patch of stringy bushes just ahead.

"Ketch, come down here and give me a hand," he called.

Van hardly watched the two men as between them they carried the Marshal to the small patch of cover ahead. He was busy pinning the badge to his shirt.

"How about that?" he called to his two companions as they were walking back towards him. "Sometimes I think I should have been a sheriff or something." Chance didn't say anything. He still didn't like the idea of leaving anyone to die out here alone, but Van was right, if they didn't get moving someone would find them soon.

ooo000ooo

Quint and Arlo had broken camp just before dawn. They didn't talk much as they rode side by side along the trail that the blacksmith had explored the evening before. The sun had barely risen over the horizon when they arrived at the ramshackle cabin. Quint asked the trail boss to stay back with the horses so he could try to locate any tracks. Arlo watched as his friend moved carefully around outside the cabin, sometimes stopping to squat down and look closer at the marks on the ground.

"It looks like they are heading southwest," he informed the other man as he leapt up onto the Appaloosa without use of a stirrup.

"Are you sure it's them?" Arlo asked, not meaning to question Quint's abilities but wanting to be certain they were not going to be following the wrong trail. There seemed to be many sets of tracks around, some with shod horses and some that could be Indian ponies. Not too many of them looked recent, but even so as far as he could tell, the ones Quint was following were no different to any of the others. Occasionally the blacksmith would get down from his horse and study the ground. After one such stop, Arlo decided to dismount and see what Quint was looking at.

The half Comanche was studying a confusion of tracks when Arlo approached. They had reached a point where several trails came together. Quint began pointing to a set of prints that had been blurred out by animal tracks, probably antelope, that had come this way.

"That's Matt's horse," he indicated. "I'd say that the marshal is lying slumped over the horse's neck rather than sitting upright in the saddle. I think he had fallen off a while ago, but two men pushed him back in the saddle. There are three men with him, one is riding an older animal with a loose shoe. They're still heading southwest but they have been stopping frequently."

Arlo was impressed. "How can you tell all that just from marks on the ground. It's difficult enough to follow the trail through all these other prints."

"Matt's horse is easy to follow. I have shod him many times. Notice how the front hooves are dug further into the ground than the back - that means his rider's weight is too far forward. I also think he is being led by the person riding the animal with the loose shoe - see how they are always the same distance apart." Quint leaned over to point out what he was seeing. "I'd say they came this way yesterday sometime, probably early in the day. The other animal tracks cross over the top, they are heading to the water to drink, so most likely they were made later in the evening."

Having finished his explanation Quint swung up on the Appaloosa once more, and with Arlo close behind the pair rode on.

TBC