Peacemaker

Chapter 3

My body was now completely exhausted. I could barely breathe without feeling like I was going to pass out. The fight or flight instinct I had earlier was fading fast, as was my faith making it out of this alive. My father had died right in front of me, and now I was close to joining him. Just as everything seemed lost, a ray of hope thundered toward me. The pounding of hooves. 

I lifted my head out of the dust, and there before me was something out of the scriptures. I beheld a white horse, and his rider appeared to be faithful and true. In his left hand was a cavalry saber, and his right held a Colt Navy revolver. He rode up, Abel trotting close behind. As he got closer, his Union blue jacket and cavalry hat became visible. He sat there, his wrinkled face staring down at the mass of beasts behind me. He  spoke, but I couldn't hear him too clearly over the pounding in my chest. He spoke again, and finally his gravelly voice rang through my ears. "You still alive, boy?" 

I went to speak, but only coughed. The rider  dismounted, his gun hand outstretched. The muzzle of his gun darted between my pursuers. He inched forward, the spurs at his heels rang with each step before he reached under my armpit and lifted me up. He slowly stepped back, half-dragging me as I hung off his shoulder. The stranger boosted me up onto my horse before mounting his. The beasts stood there, snarling at the stranger and staring me down like a pack of wolves around a wounded buck. After a stare down that lasted no more than a dozen or so seconds, the stranger tapped his horse's sides with his spurs and began to lead my wounded body out of White Gulch. We rode for a couple of hours. Keeping the horses at a walk. Even when we were out of eye shot of the town, the stranger kept glancing behind and to the sides of us. His weathered face stayed cautious and semi feral. Like he was expecting us to meet more of those things further down the road. 

I suppose he had a reason to. If he had another reliable gun hand, he could've relaxed a bit. But, I was so exhausted and beaten that if I even tried to fight, I'd be forced myself to stay awake just to make for certain I didn't drop it in the middle of the road. It was all I had left from my father, with the exception of his words. 

The sun had begun to set when we finally stopped to set camp for the night. As soon as we reached a small grove of cedar trees, I fell out of my saddle. What little energy I had left was extinguished after the ride. The stranger didn't seem to pay any mind as he walked off into the brush and came back with a handful of dry logs and tinder. As he started the fire, I just sat there on my back. Staring at the dusk sky, I reflected on the day. The Hell I had endured, then what I had lost. As soon as I thought of my father, how he died and the fact it was because of me; I felt the tears begin to race down onto my cheeks. I sat there and cried as the stranger coaxed the fire to life, trying to keep the sobs quiet. 

"What's the matter, boy?" Questioned the stranger. His rough voice was barely loud enough to hear over the fire.

I blinked once or twice, then cleared my throat. "Nothing, just tired. It's been a long day." 

The stranger stayed silent for a moment. Then cleared his throat before speaking. "So, you bawl when you're tired? Most folks just yawn or get ornery." I heard him stand up and walk over to my horse. He took the saddle and blanket off Abel, then set it in the dirt before standing over me. "Think you can make it ten feet, kid? I ain't carrying you this time." 

I looked up at him, and went to stand up. My leg ached as I set pressure on it. I almost cracked my teeth from the sheer pressure I was gritting them. But I beared it and hobbled over to the saddle before laying down. As my head met the seat of the saddle, the stranger walked back over to the fire. He reached into the pocket of his duster, then pulled out some paper and tobacco before rolling a pair of cigarettes. He put one in his mouth and lit it with a twig before walking over to me and holding the smoke out. I leaned up and took it from him, then he went back and lit his cigarette off the fire itself.