'Maybe a day or two,' Buck suggested.
'I can't wait that long,' Frank replied, glancing over at his rifle and pistol belt.
'Seems to me you ain't got no choice,' Buck said as he went over to a stool near the fire. 'That poison in your arm is gonna keep you here.'
'I've had worse,' Frank told him, moving his injured arm a bit.
' They'll kill you, Frank,' Karen said softly. 'You can't take care of yourself in this condition. Pa will keep an eye on what's going on in the valley until you're strong enough to get on a horse.'
'That could be too late,' Frank said, flexing the fingers on his left hand, making sure he could steady his rifle with it if the occasion arose.
'You won't be helpin' that boy of yours none if you get shot again,' Buck said from his place beside the stove. 'It's smarter to wait.'
Frank thought about Conrad, finding it hard to believe that one of Pine's or Vanbergen's men had ridden all the way down to Trinidad to capture him again.
'I missed my chance to kill Ned and Victor a few weeks ago,' he reminded himself. 'All I cared about at the time was getting my boy back home safe and sound.'
'Life is full of little mistakes,' Buck said, chuckling as he added wood to the fire. 'Gives a man a whole bunch of regrets if he thinks about 'em too long.'
'I'll get them,' Frank said, sipping scalding, bitter tea while his mind was on the shack down in Ghost Valley. 'I swear to you I'll get 'em all this time.'
Buck shook his head. 'You ain't gonna get nothin' but a grave marker unless you wait for that arm to heal some. That's a bad wound.'
'My son's life is more important.'
'Listen to me, Morgan,' Buck said, picking up the jug of whiskey. 'The men down yonder in that valley are bad hombres, the killin' kind. If you go after 'em before you're ready to handle yourself, that kid of yours will die an' so will you. I know that bunch. They come up here mighty regular to hide out from the law.'
'I know their type,' Frank said, thinking back over his years as a gunfighter. 'They don't scare me. If I can sit my horse, I can get 'em.'
'Won't be so simple,' Buck said. 'They know you're up here in these mountains now. They'll be expectin' you. You lost the element of surprise.'
'I know,' Frank sighed, watching Karen move away from him, momentarily distracted. 'I suppose I should be more grateful for what the two of you have done for me. I'd probably be dead in this snow somewheres if it hadn't been for you. Just wanted you to know I appreciate what you've done for me. I won't forget it either.'
'We don't want no thanks,' Buck remarked. 'Just wait here until you can travel. I told you when we first met I came up here to get away from killin' an' such, after the war. But in your case I'll make an exception. I'll help you get your boy back.'
'I wasn't asking,' Frank said.
'I know,' Buck replied. 'Just call it somethin' I've made up my mind to do.'
'Again, I'm obliged to both of you.'
Buck gave him a stern look. 'Drink that damn tea. I didn't go out in this god-awful storm to fetch back bark if you ain't gonna drink the tea from it.'
Frank drank half the cup, feeling better as the minutes passed. He noticed that Karen was rolling out dough on a small table.
'Are you baking a pie in the dead of winter?' he asked, trying to sound playful.
'Makin' biscuits,' she said without turning around to look at him.
'Can't say as I'm all that hungry,' he admitted.
Buck grinned. 'You will be, soon as you smell them turtle-head biscuits my girl makes. Puts 'em in a Dutch oven on top of this stove. We've got fatback to go with 'em, and a dab of good cane syrup.'
'Maybe I'll be hungry after all,' Frank said, gazing around the cabin. Skins and antlers were used for wall decorations on the logs, along with a rusty trap or two.
'Drink your tea,' Karen scolded. 'It'll bring your fever down in no time.'
'The whiskey helps,' he said, grinning at her.
She returned his smile with one of her own, and he was reminded again how pretty she was.
Frank became aware that Buck was watching him. He took his eyes off Karen.
'I'll hand it to you, Morgan,' Buck said.
'How's that?' he asked.
'When you get your mind set on somethin', you stay hell-bent in that direction.'
'Are you talking about going after my son?' Buck nodded.
'I don't see how a father can do things any other way,' he replied.
'It's the way you aim to go about it. There's still ten or twelve men down in that shack. A man with good sense would have brought some help.'
