Crow Bait

Six

Lancaster opened his eyes and flinched at the expected glare of the sun, only it wasn’t there. He frowned, stared straight up. There was no sun, and no sky. He was staring at a ceiling.

And he was lying on something soft and smooth.

He moved his hands in front of his eyes, to make sure he was seeing right. He flexed his fingers, then touched his face.

“Oh, good,” somebody said, “you’re awake.”

“Wha—” he said, but the word wouldn’t come out. He turned his head and saw a woman standing in a doorway. Then he looked around, saw that he was in a room with walls, and a ceiling and furniture. He put his hands down, felt the sheets and the bed beneath him.

“I—I—” He tried to speak, but the words wouldn’t come out.

“How about some water?” the woman said. She came to the bed, held his head, and tipped a glass to his dry lips. The water trickled down his throat and felt good.

“There,” the woman said, setting his head back on the pillow.

“I—is this real?” he asked, his voice raspy.

“Oh yes,” she said, “this is very real. You’re in my house, and you’re safe.”

He took a deep breath, looked around again, and looked at her. She was somewhere between a woman and a girl—midtwenties, maybe.

“Your house?”

“My family’s house,” she said. “My brothers and me.”

“How—when—”

“Just relax,” she said. “Your horse came walkin’ up to the house with you unconscious on its back. My brothers caught you as you fell off, and we brought you inside. You’re safe.”

“How—what kind of shape—”

“Are you in?” she finished. “Well, your feet have cuts and blisters on them, and you were kinda dried out from being in the sun. Also, somebody seems to have put the boots to you. Your body’s a mass of bruises, and your face. But other than that, nothin’ seems to be broke.”

“Tha-that’s good,” he stammered, “but I was going to ask you about my—my horse.”

“Oh, the horse?” she asked, laughing. “That wasn’t much of a horse, mister. It’s amazing he got you here. My older brother, Ben, wanted to put a bullet between the poor animal’s eyes, but—”

“No!” Lancaster said. “He can’t!” He tried to sit up, but she stopped him.

“No, no, it’s okay,” she said. “I didn’t let him. The horse is fine. He’s in the barn. Just…lie back.”

Lancaster allowed her to push him back down.

“You need some more water,” she said, “and you need some food.”

“How long have I been here?” he asked.

“Since yesterday.” She held the water for him again, and he took more this time.

“My horse,” he said. “Water…did you give him water…feed…?”

“He’s been watered, fed, rubbed down, and fed again,” she said. “Don’t worry.”

“That animal saved my life,” he said. “I was on foot, and then he was there…”

“Mister, nobody’s gonna hurt your horse, I promise.”

“Okay,” he said, “okay.” He took a deep breath.

“Are you hungry?” she asked.

“Actually,” he said, “now that I think about it…yes.”

“I’m makin’ dinner for me and my brothers,” she said. “I can bring a tray in here—unless you think you can walk?”

“Uh, I don’t know,” he said. “I could try.”

“Well,” she said, “why don’t we try standin’ first, and go from there?”

“Why not?” Lancaster said.

She removed the sheet and blanket to allow him to stand. He swung his legs around, put his feet down, and hesitated. Someone—presumably the woman—had bandaged the cuts and blisters on his feet.

“Go ahead,” she said. “Try.”

He nodded, put his weight on his feet for a moment, and stood up.

“Whoa,” she said as he swayed. “Dizzy?”

“A little.”

“You really should have a doctor look at you,” she said.

“How far are we from the nearest town?”

“About eight miles from Laughlin.”

“We made it that far?”

“How far?”

“Maybe fifty miles or so.”

“On that horse? That’s amazing. All right, do you want to try walking?”

“That would be the logical next step, wouldn’t it?” he said, words coming a bit easier now.

He took a step.