Cotton’s Inferno by Phil Dunlap Read Free Book Online Page A

Wiping perspiration from his brow, he made no attempt to move closer without an invitation or at least an acknowledgment of his presence. He hollered again, then waited a few moments. He heard not a sound. Staying outside what he figured to be reasonably safe and proper distance, he moved slowly off several feet to see if there might be someone out back. Then he spotted a well at the rear of the house, and his thirst was getting the best of his common sense. He started through the gate toward what he hoped was cool, clean water. But he hadn’t gone ten steps before a smoky shot erupted from an open window and a bullet slammed into the dirt no more than three feet in front of him. He stopped and held up his hands, not certain what to do next. He called out, once more. “I’m not here to steal anything, mister. I’m just real thirsty. I just need a drink, that’s all. I been in the desert for several days and my water bottles are dry as a bone. Please, just a drink . . . and I’ll be on my way . . .”
    The front door slowly squeaked open, and a frail young woman appeared. She was holding a Smith & Wesson .32-caliber, spur-trigger revolver, although shakily. She looked too weak to even lift the thing, small though it was. She motioned with the barrel of it to let Johnny know it would be okay for him to go to the well and pull up a bucket of water. He acknowledged that he understood with a mumbled “thanks” and began making his stumbling, halting way toward the back of the house. The lady kept the gun pointed at him until he was past her line of sight.
That’s a relief
, he thought. It made him less uncomfortable now that the revolver was no longer pointed at him. That soon changed, though, as he heard the opening of the rear door and there she was, weapon in hand.
    Johnny pulled the rope and drew up a bucket of water. He used a tin scoop to dip out a cool drink. After several minutes attending to satisfying his immediate needs, he filled the two bottles and hung them around his neck as before. Ready to move on, he glanced up to thank the lady, but she was nowhere to be seen.
    â€œMa’am, I sure do appreciate your generosity. You likely saved my life. I’ll be on my way now.” He had just started to walk around the side yard when he noticed something strange in the doorway. He was reluctant to head straight for the house, but it looked very much like the little shooter was lying on the floor of the porch and a shoeless foot was sticking out from a prone position.
    â€œMa’am, are you all right?”
    He got no response. He moved a few steps closer to enable a better look-see.
    â€œDon’t know if you heard me, but I said thank you for the . . .” He was now close enough to recognize that the woman was lying flat on her back, the weapon no longer being held. He eased closer.
    â€œAre you sick or somethin’? Maybe I could help if you thought it would be okay if I come some closer.”
    Still no answer. Emboldened by her lack of movement, Johnny put his water bottles on the porch and commenced to step to within four feet of the woman. She was unconscious.
Well, whether she wants it or not, I reckon I better see what can be done here.
He took a step forward and stooped to get a better look at her face. This was no full-grown woman. Up close he could tell she probably wasn’t even as old as he was. She was pale, and her eyes fluttered like they were trying to stay open, but to no avail. Her breathing was shallow, and she made little groaning sounds. Johnny didn’t know much about women, in fact he knew nothing at all, but it was clear this lady needed help. And right away.
    He bent over to get a grip on her arms to help her sit up. She was limp, as lifeless as a rag doll.
I’m going to have to pick her up and carry her over to that bed
. He could only pray she didn’t wake up, panic at being carried to her bed by a