Cowgirl Thrillers
Page 24
As we pull into the dell where Headless’ spirit is asleepin’ a rider comes shooting out of the trees, jumps on his ground tied horse and hightails it down the road. It’s deja vu all over again.
Lone Wolf makes chase.
As Wolf closes in he hops onto the horse’s rump, landing close behind the rider. The two struggle while the horse, after a short shy to the opposite side of Lone’s leap, gallops on. The rider pulls out a knife while the horse is racing flat out across the valley dodging brush and trees. Wolf and the rider struggle mightily. The knife flashes around catching the sun when suddenly Wolf topples off.
The rider struggles to regain his balance and he and his horse shoot on out of sight.
“Wolf!” Spud gets there first.
Wolf is layin’ out. Spud leans over him.
I pull up and can see the blood before I hit the ground. “Wolf!”
“He okay?” I ask Spud
“Good gods,” says Sir Jacob, last to arrive, driving the team.
We all lean over and look. “He ain’t moved, knocked out, I think. Lot of blood, but not much damage I can see, just nicked a big vessel. Long slice here in his side, but not too much more than skin deep. Here Jakey, yore the Doc,” says Spud. He moves over as Sir Jacob walks up.
I saunter over and grab the team, who have started to dance a bit.
“Likely smelled the blood,” says Spud.
“Yep.”
“Bring my kit, Spud. We shall take advantage and stitch while he’s unconscious. Hopefully it won’t be long.”
Spud delivers the medical bag, then returns to hand me the carriage weight. “Brakes are set.”
“We’ll need some of that anesthetic firstly, Spud,” says Sir Jacob.
“He’s already asleep.”
“For the surgeon,” says Sir Jacob as he raises the bottle. “Steady hands, better job.” And passes it around.
I hold Wolf’s head in my lap and Spud assists Sir Jacob as he stitches Wolf’s side.
Damned if he doesn’t finish his whip stitch and knot it just as Wolf starts to moan.
“Holy shit, I hit that ground wrong. Damn,” swears Wolf.
“S’possed to tuck and roll, buddy.” Spud looks relieved. “Glad yore still with us, pard.”
“Here, we saved some medicine for you, my fine redskin friend.” Sir Jacob passes him the bottle.
After a break, Wolf rises and whistles. Scout trots up.
“You are welcome to ride in the wagon, Wolf,” says Sir Jacob.
“Injin have horse. More comfy,” says Wolf. “Right, Talks To Horses?”
“Yep.”
“Man this sucker stinks!” says Spud. “The tree cover must have hid him from the vultures.”
We hop out of the wagon and get to work.
After a close look, Sir Jacob declares, “Exsanguination.”
“Having most of his head shot off might have had some to do with it,” says Spud.
After a thorough on sight examination, Sir Jacob uses a shovel to lift the remains of the head into a burlap sack. We lay the headless corpse out on a canvas tarp and wrap him for transport. Gloves on, Spud and I heft him over and hoist him aboard. Wolf has gone out on a circuit lookin’ for the runner and any other clues.
I am true to my word and take the head end. Even though it is about 20 yards to the wagon, Spud never breaks a sweat. He sure looks handsome, all bare chested in the heat. Who hoo! Muscle man.
“Hey, Spud, them feet ain’t too heavy for ya are they? I can take the whole corpse if you like.”
“Women!”
“Here now, I have busted bigger bulls than this fer fun of a Sunday.”
“Okay, so yore not the average girl, but you are still a girl, puny compared to a real man.”
“Remind me to challenge you to a riding and shootin’ contest next chance we get. I will kick your ass.”
Sir Jacob is amused. “Bloody hell, you two sound quite silly fighting over naught. We are quite aware of what you are actually about.”
Danged if Spud doesn’t turn beet red. Hm. ‘Course, I never did. Okay, that might be a lie.
Wolf rides up as we are about to head out and hands something to Sir Jacob. “A bullet for yore collection,” he says.
“Ah.” Sir Jacob examines it with a glass, then measures with calipers. “.50 caliber.”
“Buffaler gun,” says Spud.
We mount up and haul Headless off for an autopsy and likely an improper burial.
14 Eureka!