shack.”
They rode for another hour, until the sun settled behind the western mountains. With no cabin in sight, Maggie resigned herself to making camp, hating the idea of Sage being out in the cold tonight. She drew Henry to a halt. It was then she squinted at what appeared to be a light in the distant trees. Her heartbeat quickened with hope.
“Sage, look ahead! Is that the line shack?”
Sage clung to Henry’s mane with his good arm. He managed to raise his head and looked in the direction of the light. “That’s it. Somebody’s there. Give me my six-gun, in case… they’re not my men.”
“You’re too weak to hold a gun and Henry’s mane at the same time,” Maggie answered. “Besides, I doubt you can shoot straight anyway, the condition you’re in. You leave that gun in its holster and just stay put. I’ll see about this.” She reached around Sage and quickly wrapped Nell’s lead rope around the horn of Henry’s saddle. “Can you stay on Henry if I get down?”
“Think… so.”
Maggie wasn’t sure Sage was completely aware of his surroundings. She dismounted, unsure how she’d managed to keep going against her own pain, which had gradually returned as she struggled through a long day of riding, while trying to guide two horses and hang on to a man. “You okay?” she asked softly.
Sage looked at her with eyes glazed from pain and loss of blood. “Not right… you taking chances for me. Should be the… other way around.”
“You can’t help it. Besides, you helped me when I needed it.” She couldn’t resist touching his arm lightly. She meant it as reassurance to him but found it oddly soothing to her as well.
Praying Sage wouldn’t fall out of the saddle, Maggie pulled his Winchester from its boot at Henry’s side and cocked the rifle. She limped from reawakened pain in her shin, making her way through brush and trees to a side window at the cabin. She cautiously peeked through a foggy glass pane to see two men inside sitting at a table, playing cards. One was slender, wearing a checkered shirt and leather vest. The other was bald and round. Both needed a shave and looked like they hadn’t bathed in a while, normal for men who’d spent several days in the wilds looking for stray cattle, if indeed, that’s what these men had been up to. She noticed a whiskey bottle on the table.
Just what I don’t need … two drunk men I don’t know anything about. She could only hope they were still relatively sober.
Good or bad, Sage needed help. She took a deep breath and walked around to the front door. She kicked at it with her foot. “You men in there work for Sage Lightfoot?” she yelled. She heard chairs scraping on the wood plank floor, heavy footsteps approaching. She backed away and held the rifle steady. The door opened. The hefty man stood in the doorway.
“Who the hell are you?” he asked, a bit wide-eyed at the sight of a woman standing there.
“My name is Maggie McPhee Tucker, and don’t think I don’t know how to use this rifle!”
The big man just laughed. “Hey, Bill, come over here and see what’s standin’ on the stoop. It’s a little spit of a woman pointin’ a rifle at me.”
The slender man came to stand at his side. He grinned. “Well, now, ain’t you the prettiest thing we’ve seen in months?” He chuckled. “She’s just a kid, Joe.”
“I’m woman enough to have shot a grizzly this morning. I don’t have time now for small talk. I asked if you men work for Sage Lightfoot.”
The big man leaned against the doorsill. “What if we do?”
“Hey!” The slender man frowned. “That’s Sage’s rifle! What are you doing with it?”
“Well, I guess if you recognize this rifle, you must be one of his men. Sage is out there a ways, about to pass out and fall off his horse. He was attacked by a grizzly this morning and needs help.”
The smiles left both men’s faces as they quickly shoved past her. “Where is he?” the big one
They rode for another hour, until the sun settled behind the western mountains. With no cabin in sight, Maggie resigned herself to making camp, hating the idea of Sage being out in the cold tonight. She drew Henry to a halt. It was then she squinted at what appeared to be a light in the distant trees. Her heartbeat quickened with hope.
“Sage, look ahead! Is that the line shack?”
Sage clung to Henry’s mane with his good arm. He managed to raise his head and looked in the direction of the light. “That’s it. Somebody’s there. Give me my six-gun, in case… they’re not my men.”
“You’re too weak to hold a gun and Henry’s mane at the same time,” Maggie answered. “Besides, I doubt you can shoot straight anyway, the condition you’re in. You leave that gun in its holster and just stay put. I’ll see about this.” She reached around Sage and quickly wrapped Nell’s lead rope around the horn of Henry’s saddle. “Can you stay on Henry if I get down?”
“Think… so.”
Maggie wasn’t sure Sage was completely aware of his surroundings. She dismounted, unsure how she’d managed to keep going against her own pain, which had gradually returned as she struggled through a long day of riding, while trying to guide two horses and hang on to a man. “You okay?” she asked softly.
Sage looked at her with eyes glazed from pain and loss of blood. “Not right… you taking chances for me. Should be the… other way around.”
“You can’t help it. Besides, you helped me when I needed it.” She couldn’t resist touching his arm lightly. She meant it as reassurance to him but found it oddly soothing to her as well.
Praying Sage wouldn’t fall out of the saddle, Maggie pulled his Winchester from its boot at Henry’s side and cocked the rifle. She limped from reawakened pain in her shin, making her way through brush and trees to a side window at the cabin. She cautiously peeked through a foggy glass pane to see two men inside sitting at a table, playing cards. One was slender, wearing a checkered shirt and leather vest. The other was bald and round. Both needed a shave and looked like they hadn’t bathed in a while, normal for men who’d spent several days in the wilds looking for stray cattle, if indeed, that’s what these men had been up to. She noticed a whiskey bottle on the table.
Just what I don’t need … two drunk men I don’t know anything about. She could only hope they were still relatively sober.
Good or bad, Sage needed help. She took a deep breath and walked around to the front door. She kicked at it with her foot. “You men in there work for Sage Lightfoot?” she yelled. She heard chairs scraping on the wood plank floor, heavy footsteps approaching. She backed away and held the rifle steady. The door opened. The hefty man stood in the doorway.
“Who the hell are you?” he asked, a bit wide-eyed at the sight of a woman standing there.
“My name is Maggie McPhee Tucker, and don’t think I don’t know how to use this rifle!”
The big man just laughed. “Hey, Bill, come over here and see what’s standin’ on the stoop. It’s a little spit of a woman pointin’ a rifle at me.”
The slender man came to stand at his side. He grinned. “Well, now, ain’t you the prettiest thing we’ve seen in months?” He chuckled. “She’s just a kid, Joe.”
“I’m woman enough to have shot a grizzly this morning. I don’t have time now for small talk. I asked if you men work for Sage Lightfoot.”
The big man leaned against the doorsill. “What if we do?”
“Hey!” The slender man frowned. “That’s Sage’s rifle! What are you doing with it?”
“Well, I guess if you recognize this rifle, you must be one of his men. Sage is out there a ways, about to pass out and fall off his horse. He was attacked by a grizzly this morning and needs help.”
The smiles left both men’s faces as they quickly shoved past her. “Where is he?” the big one
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