Free Wanderlust Creek and Other Stories by Elisabeth Grace Foley Page B

she could see how he appreciated
what she was nerving herself to do.
    Callie glanced back at the fire and the
half-forgotten plate of stew on the ground. “You’d better eat
first,” she said, bending to pick it up, “and then I’ll go.”
     
    * * *
     
    Jim shifted his shoulders again on the
uncomfortably flattened pallet of blankets, and drew a long but
careful sigh. The pain in his leg was worse now, and his back and
shoulders were stiff and aching from the uncomfortable position in
which he lay. It wouldn’t be much longer, he tried to tell himself.
Just as soon as this ordeal with Nolan was through, he’d be able to
have somebody get him out of here and have the throbbing leg
attended to. He couldn’t lose his grip now.
    Callie had given him his gun; it was loaded,
and he held it next to his body in his right hand, the blanket
covering his arm. He prayed to God he wouldn’t have to use it.
Nolan would be a fool to do anything with the girl there, unless he
lost his head…Jim didn’t know him well, but Nolan seemed pretty
even-tempered, not the kind to be shaken easily.
    But was he getting ahead of himself,
assuming Nolan was the man they wanted? Were they both off their
heads, imagining things? No—he’d been right to suspect—and Callie
wasn’t the kind of girl to let her imagination run away with her,
especially about someone she wanted so badly to believe was
honest.
    Callie…Restless doubts assailed him again.
Was he doing the right thing? This was going to hurt her—hurt her
like heck if Nolan was really guilty. But a good, straight girl
like that couldn’t marry a sneaking, back-shooting cattle thief.
She’d regret it one day, if she didn’t at once. But what right did
he, Jim, have to interfere? He’d forced this on her—but then again,
she’d forced it too, by taking advantage of him while he was
helpless like this. Oh, it was all a mess.
    He had the watch in his pocket now to see
how long Callie had been gone if he wanted to, but somehow he
couldn’t. Every minute of the time found him keyed up to the same
pitch, as if each minute was the one he could expect to hear them
coming.
    At last it came. He heard the sound of
multiple footsteps in the tunnel and a girl’s voice saying
something, low, and then more clearly a man’s voice making
reply.
    “I’ll be darned. I’ve passed this spot a
hundred times and never guessed there was anything in here.”
    Callie made no answer to this, which Jim,
thinking again of the other hidden passage, thought was just as
well.
    “In here,” she said, ducking through into
the mine.
    Jim had shut his eyes at their approach, and
gave his best imitation of unconsciousness. His only impression of
what was happening came through hearing. Callie seemed to have
stopped a few feet away, watching her companion from behind as he
advanced to bend over the injured man. Jim heard the clink of a
spur and the sound of Nolan’s crouching down beside him. He tried
to keep his face loose and expressionless, breathing slowly and
heavily. Sweat was sticking the palm of his hand to the grip of the
Colt under the blanket.
    “Why, it’s Jim Reid—one of the Sorrel Creek
boys,” said Dave Nolan’s voice. “How bad’s he hurt—d’you know?”
    “Well, the gunshot wound didn’t look bad,”
said Callie. “But his leg’s broken, I think.” She seemed to swallow
and moisten her lips as though her mouth was too dry for
speech.
    “Where’d you say you found him again?” Jim
could tell by the sound of his voice that he was speaking to her
over his shoulder.
    “About—a mile and a half north of here—in
the woods, close to the divide. Just on this side of the
creek.”
    “Hmm,” said Nolan thoughtfully, but
lightly.
    He stood up. “I guess I’d better ride down
to Sorrel Creek and get help. Better not try to move him with just
the two of us, not with his leg like that. Will you be all right
staying with him while I go?”
    He received no answer. Callie, at