Horsepeople

Chapter Three

"Hell yeah," Will whispered, pulling the big white gelding through the front door of an abandoned-looking house. Closing it softly behind them, weakness passed through his muscles in waves and he peeked outside past the curtain, holding his breath in case the Lawmen heard him. A trail of dust rose into the air a kilometer away, behind a rolling hill of the foothills north of Longview. Once they rounded that hill, they would surely see him. Hiding had been the smart thing to do. Now, all he could do was pray they didn't decide to search all the acreages one by one.

Sliding his back down the door until he reached the floor, his shoulder aching, Will sighed and opened his eyes to take in the house he had slipped into. It was then he noticed the rifle pointed at him, a trembling family of five peering at him from behind their couch. Will had walked in on them eating their supper, the meagre evening meal abandoned on the table. The man held a gun to his shoulder, knuckles white around the stock.

Oh, hell, Will thought. Slowly, and with much effort, Will held up his hands. If the Lawmen didn't find him first, this fool might kill him. And if the Lawmen did find him, he'd signed this family's death warrant.

"It's okay," Will said, hoping this was one of those times his skin colour wouldn't matter, "I don't want to cause trouble. I don't mean to steal, or loot, or hurt anyone. I just need somewhere to hide."

"Hide somewhere else!" the man barked and Will jerked from the noise, putting a finger to his lips to shush him. The barrel jerked from the adrenaline pumping through the man's system. Will was too tired for adrenaline, but he remembered how it had made him keen in body, but not in wisdom.

"It's too late," Will whispered, "they'll be here any minute." He figured he should warn them about the Government, what they do and how dangerous they are; it might help them stay alive if he was found. It could also cause them to panic.

"There's a gang of bad guys"—Will hid his delirious amusement at sounding five years old—"chasing me. I didn't do anything wrong. But they will kill me, and if they find me with you, they'll hurt your family."

"Son of a bitch," the man said, Will flinching at his raised voice, "I can turn you over to them."

"You'd be turning over an innocent man to murderers," Will said, "You want to live with that?"

"We'd live," the man replied, eyes narrowing.

"With these guys, you might not," Will said. Thundering hooves sounded outside, growing louder as they approached. Still holding a finger to his lips, willing them to be quiet, they waited for the riders to pass. The seconds ticked by, none daring to twitch, hardly daring to breathe. Fading to the west and out of earshot, the Lawmen moved on. When they were gone, Will's hands dropped to the floor. He smiled at the family and lost consciousness.

Splashing through the shallow Elbow River, the larger Bow in sight, gleaming black in the night. Will leaned low over his horse's neck, driving him on through the rocky stream. A flash of blonde on the bridge overhead, a rifle barrel in the moonlight. The water deepened, pooling around his legs and the gelding's chest, sweeping them away in the current.

He had made it.

He had escaped.

A shot ripped through the dark, through his shoulder. Falling forward onto the horse's neck, blood, so black in the dark, staining the white coat. Will wove his hand through Whitey's mane as they floated away.

Will woke with a start, his shoulder throbbing. Otherwise, Will noticed, he was quite comfortable. He was laying down on something comfortable. Opening his eyes, he shrunk back from a face held very close to his own. However, the face was intent on his shoulder and hadn't noticed him rouse.