A Cowboy at Heart (7 page)

Jesse’s mind fixed on his thoughts, so at first he didn’t see the horses galloping toward him across the plain. They were within gunshot range by the time he noted the sound of hooves pounding the soil. He jerked his head around, reaching for his weapon at the same time, and spotted two men bearing down on him diagonally, coming from the direction of Littlefield’s place.
Inside
the fence. Alarm rang in his head and vibrated down his spine. The hair on the back of his neck stood at attention. It was Woodard and the simpleton, Sawyer. And they had guns in their hands.

He made a show of drawing his weapon as he slowed Rex to a stop. Better to face a threat head-on than run from it. He turned and sat stiff in the saddle, waiting for them to come near. They stopped on the other side of the fence, no more than twenty feet away.

Woodard spat before speaking. “We wanted to make sure you made it back home safe, Montgomery.”

“Yeah.” Sawyer gave a high-pitched laugh. “Shame for you to get hurt by thugs afore you get home.”

“That’s mighty kind of you. You boys can go on home now to your mamas. I know my way around.”

Woodard dropped the pretense. His gaze hardened. “Don’t be messing in Mr. Littlefield’s business. You tell that Amish man to shut his mouth and keep to his farming, and nobody will get hurt.”

Jesse tensed. “And if he pushes the matter, are you threatening the Switzers?”

Their gazes locked together with steel. “I’m sayin’ it’d be in his best interest not to find out.”

Jesse had run into men like Woodard many times over the years. The saloons were full of them, hardened men who made
their living doing the bidding of others by way of their pistols and a show of bravado. Problem was most of them were downright mean enough to shoot a man without thinking twice. And they were decent shots to boot. Not that he was afraid of Woodard or any of his ilk, but it didn’t make sense to pick a fight when you were one man against two and there was a peaceful way out.

I sound like Jonas, taking the nonviolent way
.

Well, and so be it.

He didn’t loosen his grip on his pistol, and he didn’t look away from Woodard’s glare, but he did give a shallow nod. “I’ll be sure and deliver the message.”

Was that disappointment in the man’s eyes? He’d been itching for a fight. Two against one, the coward.

Slowly, and with exaggerated gestures, Jesse turned Rex, pointed him toward the south, and then prodded him into a walk, leaving the two thugs behind.

“That’s it?” Sawyer said behind him, a touch of outrage in his reedy voice. “We’re gonna let him walk away?”

Rex kept walking.

“Ah, com’on. Let’s get home,” answered Woodard.

Sawyer argued in a tone like a whiney child. “But Mr. Littlefield said we could—”

“Shut up, you idiot,” snarled Woodard.

Mr. Littlefield said they could do what
?

Rex took another few steps. The hair on the back of Jesse’s neck stood at attention. He strained his ears to catch any sound of movement behind him. No rustling indicative of movement.

“Don’t call me an idiot,” came the hot reply. “I’m
sick
of being called an idiot. I can hold my own. You jest watch.”

The sound that followed erupted in Jesse’s ears like an explosion. The click of a gun’s hammer. Was the kid getting ready to fire on him?

Woodard’s shout. “Sawyer, put that—”

The warning was cut short. An explosion filled the air. At the same moment, fiery pain hit Jesse in the back, high up near his shoulder. Lightning flashed through his brain. The force of the bullet caught him off guard, pitching him forward. He scrambled to grab hold of the saddle pommel, but his nerveless fingers couldn’t find a grip. The ground rose up to meet him, and he landed with a breath-battering thud.

“You idiot!” The muted shout seemed to come from far away. “You shot him in the back.”

“Come on, let’s git out of here!”

A roar formed in Jesse’s ears, and the volume increased until he was aware of nothing else. A violent thunderstorm raged inside. He had one coherent thought before he lost consciousness.

Maummi
Switzer is going to be mad as a wet barn cat that I missed her fine supper
.

When he came to the pain was no longer confined to his back but burned in his chest and radiated throughout his whole body. Grass ground into his left cheek and the side of his head felt as though he’d been hit with a two-by-four. He took a cautious breath, but pain blazed through his lungs and he quickly let it out.
Breathe shallow
.

He cracked open an eye. It was hard to tell how long he’d lain
there on the ground. The sun was still a ways above the horizon, but the rays had darkened toward orange. Littlefield’s bandits were nowhere around. They’d left him for dead, the lily-livered skunks.

He hurt so bad they might be right. He might be dying.

Well, Lord. Right about now’s when I’m grateful for all those sermons I’ve heard Colin preach over the past year. I never did get around to being baptized, but You remember that night out in the corn field, don’t You? I prayed the prayer Colin talked about, and he said You never let that prayer go unanswered. So if it’s time to leave this world behind, You’re saving a place for me up there, right
?

Jesse’s question was answered with a deepening of the quiet that surrounded him. No voice, no singing angels or heavenly music, but somehow the silence contained a measure of comfort, as if a cool, gentle hand had reached past the burning in his chest. The next breath came a bit easier, and he closed his eyes.

Then a shadow came over him, and he was aware of movement near his head, the rustling sound of something moving in the grass nearby. A whicker sounded in his left ear, and then a silken nose nudged his cheek. Jesse found himself looking into Rex’s liquid brown eye.

“Hey, pal.” The words sounded weak and pitiful in his ears, but they were the best he could manage, seeing how he couldn’t get a decent breath. “You’re watching over me, aren’t you? Good boy. That’s another one I owe you.”

His eyelids felt heavy, so heavy. What he needed was sleep. He let them close.

Rex nudged him again, this time more firmly.

“Sorry, boy. I can’t climb up on your back. This isn’t like the other times. I’m shot, not drunk.”

Another nudge, this time accompanied by the stamp of an iron-shod equine hoof dangerously near his head. Jesse pried his eyes open, irritated. Stubborn horse. Why couldn’t he let a man die in peace? Rex’s huge head hovered over him. He whickered again and bathed Jesse’s face in a spray of horse spit.

“Hey!” Jesse tried to move his head away, but it weighed a ton and the burning in his chest threatened to snatch the breath out of his lungs. “I can’t get up, I tell you.”

More rustling and the sun suddenly shone more brightly on his face. Rex had been blocking the sun’s rays, but he had moved. Instead of standing over him, the horse was easing himself down onto the ground.

“What are you doing, you crazy horse? You pick now to take a nap?”

Once down on the ground, Rex rolled onto his side, his back toward Jesse, legs spread out in the opposite direction. He lifted his head as far as he could and looked over his shoulder, as though to say
What are you waiting for
?

“Well, I’ll be…” Jesse would have shaken his head in amazement if it hadn’t hurt so badly. The horse had actually laid down to make it easy on him to climb into the saddle. Instinct told him his master was hurt, and he wasn’t going to stand around and watch him die.

Jesse had slowly become aware of a large sticky puddle beneath him that didn’t come from water. The roar in his ears was getting louder by the second, and every time he opened his eye the world careened crazily around him. If he was any judge, he wouldn’t make it more than an hour or two. The exertion of getting himself into the saddle, even with Rex lying beside him, might pump more blood out of him than he could live without.

But he owed a lot to that horse. He hated to let him down now.

Rex snorted impatiently, and tossed his head upward.

“All right, all right. But this might take a minute. Hold your horses.”

He chuckled at the joke and then drew in a ragged breath. With considerable effort, he lifted his head off the grass. Pain exploded inside, from where he couldn’t tell. Everything hurt. Setting his teeth together against a wave of nausea, he edged his body forward, shifting his weight onto his left arm. Agony ripped through his torso, and he couldn’t muffle a yell. He intended it to be a bellow, but with no more breath than he had, the sound came out more like a kitten’s mewl.

Rex whickered encouragement.

“Okay, okay, okay. We can do this.”

Inch by agonizing inch, Jesse edged himself toward his horse. It seemed to take hours to drag his body across the two-foot distance separating them, but at last he found himself nearly flush against the saddle. He rested his head on Rex’s neck a moment, his shallow breath coming far too fast.

“Give me a minute.” His words rasped, but somehow the horse seemed to know what he said. Rex lay quietly on his side, his only movement a twitching muscle in his shoulder.

Finally, Jesse managed to lift his leg and ease it over the horse’s barrel. Somewhere over there was a stirrup, and he needed to find it to help keep himself in place. The only problem was that numbness seemed to be creeping down his right arm toward his hand. He had no idea what that meant, but he was pretty sure it wasn’t a good sign. Hurry…had to hurry…Feeling around the horse’s side with his leg, he found the flank cinch. Snug, but not too tight. By wiggling his foot he managed to wedge his boot toe inside the
strap. Good. With his left hand he grasped the saddle horn, and buried his fingers in Rex’s mane with the right. He hugged his body close to the saddle and steeled his jaw.

“Okay, boy. Let’s give it a go.”

Equine muscles tensed beneath him, and then the world shifted. Agony erupted in his body and a thick fog descended on his brain. In some distant part of his mind he was aware that Rex lurched to his feet quickly and somehow, miraculously, he managed to keep his grip. The horse danced sideways a few steps, giving a couple of torturous twists that resulted in Jesse’s weight being more evenly distributed. Then he started to walk.

“Good boy,” Jesse managed to whisper. “If I make it, I owe you a great big bag of oats and honey.”

Rex answered with a soft whinny.

“Best poker game I ever played.” The words left his lips in the moment before the world faded around him.

FOUR

J
onas stood at the back corner of his barn, scanning the wire that sliced his land in two. He searched the length of the hateful boundary, looking for a sign of movement. Where was Jesse? He’d been gone more than an hour, and there was no sign of his return. Beside him,
Mader
’s breath snorted through her nose like an irritated bull.

“My good meal, growing cold on the table. And where is he? Found himself a saloon, no doubt, and joined in the wild
ufrooish
of the
Englisch
.” Her mouth formed a tight, crooked line. Like all good Amish women,
Mader
did not approve of the rowdy, riotous behavior of
Englisch
cowboys.