Six Gun Justice by David Cross Read Free Book Online Page A

against the other, painfully inching his body higher, feeling the quivering in his legs from the strain. When he could finally see the edge of the mesa was level enough with his shoulders, he twisted his body enough to get a firm purchase with his arms on the top of the cliff, and dragged himself the rest of the way to safe ground. He lay exhausted, gasping for breath, weak from his exertions, and loss of blood, trying to regain enough strength to search for his horse.
    He was in no condition to walk back to his ranch, so he must find a mode of transportation, or die. He raised his head enough to see his mare a few hundred feet away, reins dragging, as she contentedly munched on sparse grass close by. He thanked the powers that be for the good training the hose had received. She had been trained as a cow horse, so when the reins were dropped to the ground, she would not wonder off. He pushed himself upright, then he laboriously staggered to his feet, standing for a few minutes, weaving like a giant oak in the breeze.
    When the dizziness passed, he took a short step, then another, forcing himself to take one more step each time, staggering like a drunken man with his weakness threatening to overcome him. His horse seemed a long way off, but he finally reached his objective, leaning heavily against the mare for support, his hands fumbling for the canteen tied to his saddle. He took long draughts of the cool water, letting it wash down his parched throat, quenching his raging thirst.
    It took him three tries, straining his remaining strength to the limit to pull himself into the saddle. He held the reins tightly against the saddle horn, giving the mare her head. She walked at a leisurely pace, seeming to know her master was hurt and could not stand to be jostled too much.
    Jake wasn’t sure which direction she was headed, but he hoped it was toward home. To his calculations, she would head for the only place that spelled food and water. He leaned forward against the saddle horn, staying alert by sheer will, knowing he would never be able to get back in the saddle again, should he pass out and fall off. He would only be able to lie there on the mesa and die, unless someone came along to help, and that wasn’t too likely. His thoughts went briefly to his attackers, thinking they might even come back in the morning to check on his body, and make sure he was dead.
    He gritted his teeth against the pain that threatened to overcome him, willing himself to stay alert. The ride home would be the longest he had ever taken, being in the condition he was in. He gingerly touched the blood soaked shirt, feeling the bandana beneath it, and he could tell the blood he had lost was tremendous. He had heard some place that a man could only lose a couple of pints of blood, before he passed out, and died. He wondered distantly how much of his blood and drained through the open hole in his shoulder.
    He knew little about where the main arteries were in the body, but he was sure that one must be somewhere close to his own wound. He pressed tightly against the hole, pressing his shoulder and hand against the saddle horn, trying to staunch the blood, as much as using the pain to keep him awake. He was sure Sarah would be worried by now, but he doubted she would come looking for him in the dark. He almost gave up a couple of times, but forced himself to keep going, being a persistent man with a will of iron.
    He had no measure of the time it took to reach a haven, only the glimmer of a lighted window ahead of him. He could not make out if it was his place, or someone else’s. For all he knew, the mare could be taking him straight into the lion’s den, straight to Murdock’s ranch. He had to get help someplace, even if it was his old enemy. He had no predilection at this point. He would be dead in a short time if he could not get help. Murdock and his men would just hurry it along some.
    He barely sensed the horse coming to a halt, and felt himself