I didn’t know where Lucas had shot the man, but he was losing blood. As I now moved through the rocks I could see traces of it swiped alongside the boulders. If he was in as bad a shape as I thought, he could bleed out in the darkness and the coyotes would find him for sure. I needed to get to him, maybe give him a chance to survive.
Any place along here he could wait and ambush me so I moved slowly. The thought was in my mind to rush and find him, but I knew that that could be setting a death trap for me. Slow and patient, that’s the way I had to work.
“Mister,” I hollered. “This is Deputy U.S. Marshal Miles Forrest. You need to give yourself up. I know you’re hit hard.”
Silence. I waited before moving for he now knew I was following him, and he had an approximate idea of where I was.
“You need a doctor. You don’t want to bleed out and become a feast for the varmints,” I yelled again. Still no response.
As I moved around the edge of a rock, I heard the shot but felt the spray of rock fragments hit my face moments before. I wasn’t hurt, just stung a little, but I could see he wasn’t ready to give up.
I hollered to him, “I can wait you out. I imagine the coyotes are already smelling your blood and getting ready for the night’s supper.”
“That kid kilt my brother!” he wailed.
“Your brother was a no good horsethief whose intent was to kill the kid. He was looking to die, if not by the kid’s hand then someone else’s,” I hollered, then paused waiting for a few seconds. “You didn’t set a very good example for him. In reality it was you that got him killed.”
“Come on an’ get me, lawdog. I’ll take you to Hades with me,” his voice not as strong as before.
I waited as I expected he was set somewhere ready to shoot as soon as I appeared in his sights. “Nah, I’ll just wait you out. Where you take the bullet, in the guts?”
“Hit me low down, just below the gunbelt,” he answered. “You’re a coward Forrest. Come and get me!”
He must be in bad shape. The bullet hit in front of his hip, the bullet probably still in him as the pelvis must have stopped it. The bone could be broken, it was hard to tell. I did know he was dragging one leg a bit. “I’ll come and get you when I know you’ve drained out. Might be a while, I don’t want to take chances. The buzzards might start working on you before I get there.”
That should get his attention for there were a few now flying high in the sky. They had him spotted. “I’ve fought Indians plenty of times. They taught me to be patient, especially when I have a wounded man cornered in the rocks.”
The tip of the sun finally dropped below the horizon. I had only about thirty minutes of light left before darkness settled in covering the rocks. Off in the distance west the colors were now fading. I needed to get to the man. I knew he couldn’t get back down the way he went up, and I didn’t think he was strong enough to move across the rocks to get back to his horse.
“I’ll come get your body in the mornin’. . . or what’s left of it,” I shouted then made a sound as if I was going back down to my horse. After a few steps I waited then moved up on the right side of the rocks. They were now in the shadows and I hoped he couldn’t not see me. I moved slowly for it is movement that brings attention.
“Forrest!” he screamed. “Forrest, don’t leave me like this! Forrest!”
I didn’t answer, but ever so slowly moved toward his voice. Then I saw movement, a foot was pulled back and he was attempting to rise. I was tempted to put a bullet in his foot, but he was already suffering. A gun fell and clattered on the rocks. “Forrest, don’t leave…” he moaned then fell forward.
Rushing to him, I felt to see if he was breathing. Slightly. He had banged his face and head on the rocks as he fell and I had a time rolling him over to check his wound since his head was facing downslope. I recognized him as the man who visited Lucas and my camp.
I rose to go for my canteen, when his hand grabbed the leg of my pants. “Too late,” he breathed. “Joey was my brother’s name…Joey Abrams.” He stopped, his breathing now very shallow. I leaned closer for it was hard to hear. “Good boy, yur right, I was a bad example.”
He tried to force a smile. “My horse, stolen. . . give it back to the owner. Tell them Todd Ab….”
Those were his last words. I picked up the body and tossed it over his horse, then in the last light I saw the brand. The horse belonged to Bill Lowell and had been stolen several weeks back. A last deed, a good one trying to make up for a life of deviltry. I hoped in my heart that he asked a prayer of forgiveness from his Maker before looking consciousness, for a good deed won’t cover sin, only the blood of the Son of God.
I mounted Star. There was no need to stay the night out since I was only a couple of hours away from Durango. I gave Star a little nudge, then a sound broke through the night–the mournful cry of a coyote.