'Maybe you should have robbed the bank after all. It might have been a safer pursuit.'
Logan is confused. What is he talking about?
The barber laughs. 'You don't remember your first visit here do you? You speculated about raiding the bank because there didn't seem to be anyone defending the town.'
He realizes what the barber is referring to and manages a weak smile.
'I don't think any of this has turned out quite how I planned it. I certainly didn't think I'd have to thank a deputy for saving my life.'
Wilson signals urgently that he should say no more.
'Well,' Logan says quickly, 'he saved my arm at least.'
He still doesn't quite know what to make of Wilson. He seemed like a gaoler to start with. But then Wilson tracked him all the way from the ranch to the cabin to save him from Frank Lake's gun. He's ridden all the way back to town with him and brought him here to save his arm and to get his wound treated and yet he still hasn't explained why. Is he trying to save Logan for the gallows or is there something else they have planned for him? He still doesn't trust the man, not after the way the sheriff seemed to threaten him.
He gets up from the chair carefully and feels a little shaky on his feet. He tries to hide it and look confident but it's probably not much more successful than a drunk man trying to look sober.
'How much do I owe you?' he asks the barber.
He pays willingly and adds a little extra to show his thanks. And he doesn't forget to pay for the shave he'd had when he first came to town.
'You'll come back in a couple of weeks so I can take the stitches out?'
He doesn't want to say that he has no intention of staying in Walkers Creek more than a day or two. He just nods.
He heads out into the street with Wilson, all the while feeling a little stronger. He keeps flexing and testing the arm to see how much use he can get from it.
'Where are we headed now?' Logan asks as they stand beside the horses.
'We need to find Mr Humby again.' Wilson says. 'And let's hope for your sake that he didn't come into any trouble while you were running around getting shot.'
He really doesn't care what may or may not have befallen Humby. He wonders about Emily, but she was quite certain that she didn't want to have anything to do with him any more so he tells himself that there's little point in caring about her wellbeing.
'She escaped?' Logan pauses as he overhears a voice. His horse is between him and the speaker.
'She didn't just escape. She made me look a fool.'
That second voice is unmistakably McLaren.
Wilson steps forward to untie the horses but Logan nudges him and signals to be quiet and listen.
'I'm going to get a posse together,' McLaren says, 'we can teach her a lesson.'
'Won't Humby have something to say about that? I mean, it's his girl we're talking about here.'
'He tied her up and threw her in his office and locked the door. He's not going to have much to say about what I do to her.'
Logan is startled by this revelation. Judging by the look on his face, so is Wilson.
'Come on,' says McLaren, 'we can get some more guns from the saloon.'
Their spurs click as they walk away toward the saloon.
'What do you think they're planning?' Logan asks Wilson.
'I don't know, but I don't like it. We need to get to the ranch before them.'
'You think Humby is in trouble there?'
Wilson shakes his head. 'I doubt Mr Humby is there. Maybe nobody is there. You're too full of questions,' he says exasperated, 'Just do as I tell you. Get on your horse and let's get out of here before McLaren comes back out.'
Logan wriggles up into his saddle with the help of his good arm and gritting his teeth against the discomfort in his arm he kicks his horse back towards the ranch.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
She pats the nose of Mannion's horse as it stands tied up outside the deserted ranch house. Laura and Billy are still cowering in his room, but everyone else has gone. Someone has opened the gate to the corral and the horses are gone too. Mannion's horse that carried her from the town is the only creature to be seen.
She blinks back a tear as she thinks about how things have turned out. She strived so hard to keep the ranch as the prosperous, thriving success that she inherited, and yet it refused to do what she willed for it. Her men seem not to have respected her. After all, maybe Frank Lake is no worse than any of them. She resolves to do something to help him, if only to spite the others who mutinied against her so completely.
Humby will come again, of that she can be sure. It unsettles her, but she knows of nowhere that feels safer than the home she was born in.
The loneliness brings to mind the feeling she had that night when she sat on this porch waiting for her father to come home. Sanchez pleaded with her to come inside, to go to bed, that he'd be back in the morning, but she knew, somehow she knew, that he wasn't ever coming back again. That emptiness inside. This emptiness inside. Back then she stayed out waiting, not wanting to admit that it was over, not wanting to give up hope. But there is no hope. The ranch is empty and all that made it feel safe and homely has gone. She knows she should saddle up her horse and run away. Run away from Humby and his threats, from McLaren and his inevitable revenge. She should run, but where to? She has nowhere to go. She wishes Sanchez were here, she would take his advice, he would make everything alright.
There is a noise inside the house, but it is just Laura and Billy. She finds herself thinking of them like children, disregarding them. They have no solution to offer for her plight.
She watches the road, not really knowing what she is watching for. Her father returning? Sanchez? Humby? She aches to see something coming up the road. Anything. Anyone. Just something that will break the spell, the feeling of emptiness.
The cloud of dust makes her heart leap. Someone is coming. Who it is suddenly matters. The spell is broken and her instinct for self-defense takes over. She snatches up the rifle and steps out to meet whoever is coming. She cannot make out who they are or even how many, but she already has the safety catch off and a cartridge in the breech.
As it gets closer the dust cloud becomes two and she sees two horses and their riders. The first looks to be dressed in black. It's that deputy who has been following her. She raises the rifle.
He's too far away to shoot, but he's riding quickly. Why has he come back? Is that Humby behind him? She screws up her eyes trying to make him out but she cannot see who the second rider is. He seems to be riding awkwardly. Is it Humby, trying to hide his identity from her? He would be too proud to do that. If Humby was riding up to the ranch he'd have his stupid arrogant head held high. No, whoever it might be, it won't be Humby. She lowers the rifle a little and waits.
Now they are in range. Shouting distance. They make no attempt to hail her though and just keep riding. Impatient, she raises the rifle again and squeezes the trigger.
Dirt kicks up in front of Wilson's horse and it rears in surprise. The riders stop.
'Miss Nixon,' Wilson yells, 'please don't shoot.'
'Why the hell not?' she yells back, readying herself for a second shot.
'We've come to help,' he calls, and then the wind takes the rest of his words.
'I don't need your help.'
'I can't hear you,' he calls back.
'Okay. Come slowly.' The rifle is still at her shoulder.
Wilson and the other rider come steadily closer and she watches them intently over the sights of the rifle. The second rider is clearer now. He has a white hat. A white hat? Can it be Logan? Why is he riding so awkwardly? Has he been injured?
Why should she care if Logan has been injured? He lied to her, he brought Humby here to kidnap her. She has no reason to be interested in his wellbeing. She still hopes he is alright. After all, he got that injury running away
