The Saga of Miles Forrest

Leaving Molly at the diner I went back to the jail to pick up Lucas.  Glancing at him in the saddle I gave him a nod.  He had on a jacket, his rifle was in hand, and I could tell he had his soogan tied on the back along with a heavier coat.  He was learning.
       We moved slowly out of town, I rode on one side of the road, Lucas on the other just in case Martin decided to leave the road.  When we were out of town, Lucas mentioned, “Mateo thinks he hit him with his shot.”
       “He’s hurtin’, bleedin’, and soon he’ll be cold when darkness falls.  He better hope we find him, or most likely he won’t make it through the night,” I proclaimed, then asked.  “Think you can ride a little faster and still see if he cuts off the road?”
       As we moved up the hill that led south out of town, I noticed that the clouds were dropping lower.  We might be in for some snow during the night.  It would be nice to find Martin and get on back to town before the storm hit.  This time of year one never knew about a storm.  It might bring just a shifting of snow, or it might dump a load.  The wind wasn’t blowing much, that was a good sign.  I didn’t want to be caught out in no blizzard.
       I was having trouble holding Star in check; he wanted to run.  I really needed to ride him harder and more often.  He loved to run; it was the thoroughbred in him.  We topped the ridge and started down the other side when Lucas reined up.  Seeing him I stopped trying to find what he spotted.  He was pointing over to a large patch of prickly pear, there was a horse behind it. 
       Nodding to him, I dismounted then tied Star to a sage.  I really didn’t need to tie him for he would stand without the reins tied to anything.  I did it more for Lucas to remind him to secure his horse.  Motioning with the Greener that he should move off to the left and come up flanking the horse I moved slowly forward.  I didn’t want to scare him away in case Martin was near.  
       I stopped, there were some rocks to my right where Martin could be hiding waiting for a shot at me.  I stared at them intently, deciding that there was no one there, at least no one conscious.  Slowly I started back toward the horse.
       “Senor Miles!” hollered Lucas.  “Come quick!”
       Rushing over to where Lucas was standing I could see him looking downward.  “Oh, my mercy!” I exclaimed.  “How in the world…”
       Lucas gave me a bewildered look.  “How do we get him out?” he questioned.  Biff Martin had fallen off his horse into a huge patch of prickly pear mixed with a stand of cholla.  From where I was standing I couldn’t tell if he was alive or not, but we had to get him out of it, the question was how without us getting caught up in it.  It looked as if that cholla was ready to jump out and grab one of us.
       I rubbed down my chin then pulled on the end of my moustache.  “Go get our heavy coats,” I ordered.
       In a few minutes he was back, leading the horses.  After tying them to some sage, he pulled the coats from our roll.  I put mine on, noticing that he followed.  Looking at Martin I saw that he must have fallen off, hit and rolled into the cactus.
       “He’s your prisoner,” I began, “how are you goin’ to get him out?”  I wanted to grin, but needed to hold onto my sober expression.
       There was no complaint or whimper from him.  I watched as he began to look around.  He walked over to a dead pinon, where he picked up a couple of dead branches.  “Here, Senor Miles, help me push aside some of the cholla,  Hold it now,” he instructed, then reached in careful like to grab the hurt arm of Martin.  He looked up at me with a frown, then gave a hard jerk pulling him halfway out of the mess.  I released the cholla, then went to grab the other arm then we finished pulling him out.
       Where Mateo had shot him was covered with cactus spines and a couple of stems of cholla in it.  I pulled my knife to place under the cholla then flipped them off.  It took a couple of tries, then I rolled him over to check to see if he was breathing.  “He’s still alive, Lucas, but barely.  Go get his horse and see if there’s a blanket.”
       There was no easy way about this.  I pulled his boots off, then undid his britches trying to avoid the spines but to no avail.  By the time Lucas had returned I had his pants off and was working on his shirt.  There were cholla and pear spines in my gloves, but I figured to finish the job before worrying about them as long as they didn’t work their way through the leather.
       Lucas laid out the blanket where I pointed then when Martin was just in his longhandles I lifted him to place him on the blanket.  It was time to take the gloves off as the spines were penetrating.  “Tied the blanket around him,” I complained, now working on the spines in my hands.  I watched Lucas secure Martin, then spoke, “Now what?”
      He looked at me then over to the horse.  “He can’t ride,” muttered Lucas, then he looked down at Martin, then over to me with a frown.  I didn’t respond.  He looked around then up toward the sky.  “We’ll have to tie him to his horse.”
       Nodding, I said, “Let’s get to it, then head back home.”  I yelped, shaking my hand as I grabbed Martin’s legs.  Some of the thorns were in my hand.  We loaded him up and Lucas tied him down. 
       “Think he’ll live?” he asked quietly.
       “For sure he won’t if’n we don’t get him down to Doc.  He’s lost a lot of blood.”
       Two hours later Lucas and I were sitting in the diner just eating a piece of butterscotch pie.  Mateo said that he would cover the jail to give Lucas some time to recuperate.  When we dropped the body off at Doc’s he took one look at him, “Why bring him to me?  He’s dead.”  I saw Lucas jerk when Doc said that.  “Take him over to Parker’s.”
       “How do you do it, Senor Miles?  I’m not hungry,” he said, playing with his pie.  “You face this all the time, how do you do it?”
       I placed my fork down on the now empty plate, then pointed upwards.  “It’s only the Lord.  Death can be hard, death can make a person bitter.  I know that in my time I’ve sent many to meet their Maker and Judge.  All I know is that He gives me peace trying to make the world a safer place.  Death holds nothing on me; I’ve faced the Pale Rider.”
       “You gonna eat that pie?”