into folks.
With an inward sigh, Matthew went over his options, hating to waste precious time on an unnecessary side trip. But in the end, he couldn’t see that he had a choice. There was the injured man to think about.
“How much blood is that man spitting up?” Matthew asked.
“Not much, just a little pink now and again.” The conductor arched an eyebrow. “Why do you ask?”
“I hate to press my animals unless it’s a matter of life and death. They’ve come a far piece.”
“We won’t quarrel with how fast you ride, Coulter, just so long as you go. I think the injured man will be okay until help arrives.”
“My horse and mule can go about four miles an hour at a steady walk. At that rate, it’ll take me two and a half hours to reach Holden Creek, plus a few minutes to talk with the marshal. With fresh horses, he and his men should be able to make it back here in a little over an hour if they ride fairly hard. That puts help about four hours out. Do you think the injured fellow can hold on that long?”
“We have him bedded down. If he doesn’t move and do more damage, he should make it.”
Just then a petite older woman came tearing down the platform steps of a passenger car. The most outlandish hat Matthew had ever seen was perched at an angle atop her head, silk flowers, gewgaws, and feathers poking every which way. Hands clamped to her waist, she ran toward them, the leg-o’-mutton sleeves of her blue velvet traveling costume flapping like the wings of a frantic bird.
As she drew up near Smoky’s flank, she pushed a strand of graying blond hair from her eyes. “Please, sir, you must ride for help at a fast pace! Those horrible men took my daughter! If someone doesn’t catch up with them quickly, they might do her serious harm!”
Apparently the lady had heard Matthew say he didn’t want to exhaust his animals by pushing them too hard. His mouth went as dry as dirt. He knew the Sebastians would kill this woman’s daughter before a posse ever caught up with them. The Sebastian boys wasted no time with their raping and murdering.
“I’m about to leave now, ma’am,” Matthew said, his voice thick and hoarse. “I’ll tell the marshal to get a group of men together as fast as he can.”
She pressed quivering fingertips to her pale cheeks, her blue eyes swimming with tears as she nodded. “Thank you, thank you,” she murmured. “She’s a good, sweet girl who’s never harmed a soul. If something happens to her, it’ll break my heart.”
Resigned, Matthew nudged his horse into a trot, a pace he set only for the woman’s benefit. Once out of sight, he’d slow Smoky to a walk. There was little point in killing his horse and mule in an attempt to save a girl who probably couldn’t be saved.
Why was it that every time he almost caught up with those rotten bastards, something went wrong?
Holden Creek turned out to be a one-horse town with a train station only a bit larger than a water closet. As predicted by the conductor, the place stood empty. The main street was little more than a rutted dirt path lined with uneven boardwalks, wobbly hitching posts, and straggly clumps of soapweed yucca. The saloon appeared to be the largest establishment, even larger than the church at the far end of town. What a fine testimony that was to humankind. Not that Matthew begrudged anybody a snort. He imbibed a bit himself. But with the church barely bigger than a sitting room and a school not in evidence, he couldn’t help but wonder about this community’s priorities.
The marshal’s office was no more impressive than the train station, situated amongst a string of businesses with battered doors and CLOSED signs that hung crooked in every dusty window. Strange . According to Matthew’s calculations, it was Thursday. In most towns, the shops closed only on Sundays, and often not even then. Maybe he had his days mixed up. No big surprise if he did. There had been times over the last three years
With an inward sigh, Matthew went over his options, hating to waste precious time on an unnecessary side trip. But in the end, he couldn’t see that he had a choice. There was the injured man to think about.
“How much blood is that man spitting up?” Matthew asked.
“Not much, just a little pink now and again.” The conductor arched an eyebrow. “Why do you ask?”
“I hate to press my animals unless it’s a matter of life and death. They’ve come a far piece.”
“We won’t quarrel with how fast you ride, Coulter, just so long as you go. I think the injured man will be okay until help arrives.”
“My horse and mule can go about four miles an hour at a steady walk. At that rate, it’ll take me two and a half hours to reach Holden Creek, plus a few minutes to talk with the marshal. With fresh horses, he and his men should be able to make it back here in a little over an hour if they ride fairly hard. That puts help about four hours out. Do you think the injured fellow can hold on that long?”
“We have him bedded down. If he doesn’t move and do more damage, he should make it.”
Just then a petite older woman came tearing down the platform steps of a passenger car. The most outlandish hat Matthew had ever seen was perched at an angle atop her head, silk flowers, gewgaws, and feathers poking every which way. Hands clamped to her waist, she ran toward them, the leg-o’-mutton sleeves of her blue velvet traveling costume flapping like the wings of a frantic bird.
As she drew up near Smoky’s flank, she pushed a strand of graying blond hair from her eyes. “Please, sir, you must ride for help at a fast pace! Those horrible men took my daughter! If someone doesn’t catch up with them quickly, they might do her serious harm!”
Apparently the lady had heard Matthew say he didn’t want to exhaust his animals by pushing them too hard. His mouth went as dry as dirt. He knew the Sebastians would kill this woman’s daughter before a posse ever caught up with them. The Sebastian boys wasted no time with their raping and murdering.
“I’m about to leave now, ma’am,” Matthew said, his voice thick and hoarse. “I’ll tell the marshal to get a group of men together as fast as he can.”
She pressed quivering fingertips to her pale cheeks, her blue eyes swimming with tears as she nodded. “Thank you, thank you,” she murmured. “She’s a good, sweet girl who’s never harmed a soul. If something happens to her, it’ll break my heart.”
Resigned, Matthew nudged his horse into a trot, a pace he set only for the woman’s benefit. Once out of sight, he’d slow Smoky to a walk. There was little point in killing his horse and mule in an attempt to save a girl who probably couldn’t be saved.
Why was it that every time he almost caught up with those rotten bastards, something went wrong?
Holden Creek turned out to be a one-horse town with a train station only a bit larger than a water closet. As predicted by the conductor, the place stood empty. The main street was little more than a rutted dirt path lined with uneven boardwalks, wobbly hitching posts, and straggly clumps of soapweed yucca. The saloon appeared to be the largest establishment, even larger than the church at the far end of town. What a fine testimony that was to humankind. Not that Matthew begrudged anybody a snort. He imbibed a bit himself. But with the church barely bigger than a sitting room and a school not in evidence, he couldn’t help but wonder about this community’s priorities.
The marshal’s office was no more impressive than the train station, situated amongst a string of businesses with battered doors and CLOSED signs that hung crooked in every dusty window. Strange . According to Matthew’s calculations, it was Thursday. In most towns, the shops closed only on Sundays, and often not even then. Maybe he had his days mixed up. No big surprise if he did. There had been times over the last three years
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