Here Come the Brides Chapter 11 No Going Back
"I'll do it," Burt said. "Friday afternoon, but you'll have to cover for me," he told Tom.
"Okay, I'll make sure to be with some of the men at camp, so I'll have an alibi," Westley said.
"I need a rifle. If anyone sees me, I can say I'm out hunting. Who knows, maybe I will snag me a deer or something," Burt added.
"Stanley keeps a rifle hidden under his cot," Tom said. "I think I can get it."
"I've made a map showing the flume route in case you need it," Westley said.
"Can you get me a map of the whole mountain? I don't want to risk running into anyone. I want to know where all the Bolts are and where the work crews are so I can keep anyone from seeing me," he said.
Friday afternoon Burt took the hand drawn Map that Westley provided him with along with an ax and the rifle that Tom was able to sneak out of the bunkhouse. He left late midday. If he ran into anyone, his story would be that he was hunting. He moved fast, because he had a lot of ground to cover.
He went west, staying away from the main trail that snaked around the mountain and instead took an old footpath the loggers had used in the past. He was worried he wouldn't get there in time. It had taken a lot longer than expected. Finally a cabin came into view and he staked out a spot. He needed to watch and see if Joshua Bolt was here and make sure he was alone.
He was lucky. He'd made it in barely enough time. Joshua Bolt was moving a pack mule towards the cabin.
Burt hid in the underbrush, watching. Should he make himself known, so Bolt would know who killed him? It was getting late and he still had to take out the flume. He needed to hurry, he'd never find the flume in the dark, and it had to be destroyed.
Joshua planned to go back Saturday but decided to go ahead and leave Friday. He needed to get the weeks numbers for the books and his food supplies were almost empty. He wanted to bring back lumber for the cabin, so he would return with a wagon. It would be nice to see Jason and let him know everything that he'd done at the old cabin and find out how it was going at the logging camp.
"Hi girl," he said to Bess, scratching her muzzle. He clipped on her lead and opened the corral, led her to the hitching post near the cabin and went inside to pack his gear. He didn't have much to take, just the books, but he would be coming back with more supplies than the mule could carry. He tied the small pack onto her back. "You'll have it easy going home," he told Bess as he untied her.
Bolt was leaving, time was running out. "Just do it," Burt thought. He took aim. "This is for you Missy," he said, as he pulled the trigger.
Josh turned and took a couple steps. There was a loud crack, and he was hit by a force that felt like a sledgehammer, followed by a blow to his head then darkness.
Burt watched. Joshua lay lifeless. He was dead, and something in Burt felt sick and his hands started to tremble. He turned away, closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He couldn't look at Joshua's body anymore, yet couldn't get the image out of his mind. He got up quickly and ran. He kept running, and stopped to catch his breath. He vomited and kept seeing Joshua Bolt lying dead on the ground. He started running again until he finally reached the log flume. He looked around, making sure he was alone. He didn't see anyone.
He started chopping on a support leg. Nervous and shaking, he was in panic mode and having a difficult time with it, but his adrenaline gave him the strength to keep going. He was finally able to break down a section.
"I killed him," he kept thinking. He had to remind himself that Bolt hurt Missy, but couldn't shake the image of the body dead on the ground.
He was exhausted, but he had to get off the mountain.
When Burt made it back to the mill it was dark. Tom had been waiting. "What took you so long?" he fussed. "They were asking about you at Lonnie's."
"It took longer than I thought it would," Burt snapped still out of breath. "What did you tell them?" he asked.
"I told them, I didn't know where you were. Maybe you went to see Missy," he said.
"You didn't tell em' I was hunting?" Burt asked.
"No Burt!" Tom argued back. "I had to sneak that out." He nodded to the rifle. "You said it was only if you were spotted. Did anyone see you out there?" he asked.
"Oh yea, right," Burt agreed, his mind racing.
"Did anyone see you?" Tom asked.
"No," he answered. "Here get rid of it," he said handing the rifle back to Tom.
"Did you get it done?" Tom asked.
"It's done," he said and walked away.
Tom watched Burt walk away. He looked down at the rifle. He would sneak it back under Stanley's cot tonight while everyone is sleeping. Something made him feel uneasy. Burt was hiding something and he wasn't sure if wanted to know.
He slowly regained consciousness feeling the side of his face in the dirt, not sure what hit him or how much time had passed. A hot burning pain was coursing through his upper body. His head was pounding, everything was fuzzy. His eyes tried to focus noticing the sky had turned golden. He spotted Bess grazing in the grassy patch like she'd done all week as if nothing had happened. Her pack was still tied to her back, along with his hunting rifle, and he thought how odd. "I've been shot," he realized. "Is someone watching?" Josh tried not to move, listening for approaching steps but all he heard was the pounding in his head. Finally he decided, if he just lay there playing dead, he'd bleed to death. If the gunman was going to finish him off, he would have done so already.
He tried to get up, but the pain was too much and he couldn't move his arm. His shirt was wet, and he knew it was blood. He was able to get to his knees, using his left arm. His right arm was useless. The pounding in his head got worse. Struggling to his feet, he couldn't suppress the groan that escaped from the searing pain in his shoulder. He felt weak and nauseous. His body fell against the porch rail as he stumbled up the steps. He opened the cabin door and staggered to the table where he grabbed a rag and collapsed into the chair. Using his left hand he managed to open the top half of his shirt enough to press the rag onto the gaping wound in his shoulder. He screamed in pain, but knew he had to try and stop the bleeding. He began to feel light headed, hoping he could stay awake and wondered if the shooter would come in and finish him off.
Josh was feeling weaker, the pain was unbearable. He needed to lie down. He made it to the bed and all but collapsed onto it. His teeth grinding and he tried not to scream. He needed more rags for the bleeding, but all he had was the blanket on his bed and his shirt. He struggled to remove the shirt from his left arm and just bunched it up over this shoulder, pressing it against the already blood soaked rag. He fell onto his back and prayed he wouldn't die alone.
"Maybe I can get to Bess," he thought. "If I can get to Bess, maybe I can ride her home, but he didn't have the strength. The more he moved, the more his wound bled.
"Maybe Jason will come," he thought. He pressed the shirt fabric against his shoulder and moaned in pain, but he had to stop the bleeding. He was losing his strength, his energy gone. Everything went dark.