In such cases, your mouth is making you sin. And don’t defend yourself by telling the Temple messenger that the promise you made was a mistake. That would make God angry, and he might wipe out everything you have achieved.” –Ecclesiastes 5:6 (NLT)
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Looking toward the sound I saw Digger crawling toward me, leaving a trail of blood. He had a look of resignation on his face along with a few pieces of buckshot. Raising his pistol he fired, then groaned. The bullet went over my shoulder smashing into the door frame. There was a smile on his face as he tried to lift the gun again. I took a step toward him, my foot coming down on his hand that was holding the pistol.
His face in his sleeve, I could hear him mutter. “This wasn’t supposed to happen. McGinnis had it all planned out, then you showed up,” he dropped his head and I figured he was dead. Then I heard what sounded like chuckling. Digger lifted his head and smiled at me. “Dawson wasn’t very good was he?”
I looked down at the broken man, “No, he wasn’t.” Digger laughed, then his eyes went glassy and his head dropped. This time I knew he wouldn’t raise it. I went to take my boot off his hand when I noticed blood on it. Another drop fell, then I remembered that I was shot. Weakness came into my knees and I felt I was going to fall, so I grabbed a chair to plop myself down in.
Suddenly I was tired. I was hoping it was just the effects of the fight wearing off and not from loss of blood. The door opened with Sparky Boyd arriving with Doc Minto right behind him. Doc came to my side. “No, check on Martin first, I’m alright.”
“Stay beside him,” I heard him order Boyd, then he shuffled over to where Martin lay.
When I opened my eyes, I realized I was lying on my back with the ugly face of Osian Beavin looking down at me. “Glad to have you back with us, Marshal,” he said, with a smile. “You lost some blood, and, I might say, you added to your collection of scars.”
I started to sit up, but the pain hit me and Osian put his hands on my shoulders to keep me lying down. I moaned, then asked, “How’s Martin?”
“He’ll be all right,” he stated, then added, “I’m going to have to give him vacation pay as he won’t be working for a month or so.” He looked away from me. “Doc, get over here, he’s awake.”
There was the presence of another man at my side. “You settle down,” came the order, and I knew it was the doctor. “You were shot in the fat under your left arm. That bullet went right on through. Then you have a nice groove just over the hip bone on your right side, so just take it easy. You’ll be all right as long as infection doesn’t set in. I cleaned the arm the best I could; just don’t move it around for a while.”
“Osian, did anyone survive? You said Bill was going to make it.”
Doc Minton answered for him. “Deputy Martin took a bullet in both shoulders, and another in the side which was stopped by his ribs. He’ll be okay, but won’t be working for quite a spell. He’s resting, in fact that’s what you should be doing.”
Turning my head, I looked around. “Where am I?”
“It was best that you and especially Bill weren’t moved around. I took the liberty of closing down Boyd’s Pool Hall to use as a temporary hospital with the help of Marshal Beavin.” He started to turn away, then stopped, stepping back to me. “I will tell you that Mr. O’Brian is still alive, but barely.”
“I need to get back to Durango, I have to be at the trial on Monday,” I blurted to no one in particular. “What day is this?”
“Friday, you’ve been out for two days, and I’ll tell you that you’ll not make that trial.”
“Marshal, you’ve got to get me on that train tomorrow. I have to be there.”
Osian came to me and we looked at each other. A small grin appeared, and he touched my shoulder then moved away. I was alone, when I felt the presence of someone else coming near me. I reached to my holster for my gun; it was there. But then I felt flowing from that presence a peace and I took my hand away from my gun. I wouldn’t need it in His company. I knew who was there with me and I closed my eyes…