Free The Law of the Trigger by Clifton Adams Page B

hill outlaws, Marshal?”
    “That wouldn't seem likely.” Owen smiled. “But if the woman's as sick as you say, maybe I ought to cut him off and see if I can lend a hand.”
    The boys stared bug-eyed with excitement as Owen threw a saddle up on one of his big-bellied work horses. “Ain't you goin' to take a gun, Marshal?” Bruce asked. “That man looked pretty mean to me.”
    “Me too!” Bud said quickly.
    Owen laughed. “I don't think that will be necessary, boys.” He rode across the yard and called, “Elizabeth, the Stanley boys claim to have found a sick woman in the woods. Guess I'd better take a look.”
    Elizabeth, holding Giles over her left shoulder, came outside on the back step. “A sick woman, Owen?”
    “A man was bringing her down from the hills on a travois. I'd better see if we can give them a hand.”
    Elizabeth frowned slightly, knowing that the hill people seldom came down toward Reunion. Then the frown disappeared and she smiled at her husband. “Of course, Owen. We can fix up the boys' room for her if you think it's necessary.”
    “Probably it's not as bad as the boys made it out.” Then he waved to her and rode the awkward, iron-gaited mare around their small vegetable garden and toward the north.
    He spotted the dusty, brush-scarred little bay through the trees, about a half hour's ride from the house. The saddle was empty. When Owen got closer he saw the man kneeling beside the pole travois. Why, he's not much more than a kid, he thought. And the girl, she can't be more than seventeen.
    But when the man looked up, Owen saw the hard young face and dangerous eyes and knew that here was no mere boy. Quickly the man grabbed his shotgun and leveled the big bore at Owen's face.
    “Stay where you are, mister!”
    “I came to help,” Owen said.
    “You a doctor?”
    “No and from the looks of the girl I'd say she stands little chance of living till you get her to one.”
    “That's my worry, and hers,” the young man said harshly.
    Owen shrugged. “All right, if you want her to die. It seems a shame, though, after you've brought her so far.”
    The young man scowled, his quick eyes shifting about the woods and hills. He seemed angry and worried, and when he glanced at the girl there was fear in his eyes. At last he lowered the shotgun, but kept it at the ready. “You think you could help her?” he asked.
    “I can't say without knowing what's wrong with her.”
    “She's been shot.”
    Owen felt a little ripple of warning but kept his voice even. “I see,” he said. “How bad is it?”
    “The bullet went in under the ribs but I got it out. She's bled a lot and been out of her head. Is there a doctor between here and Reunion?”
    “No.”
    The hard young face sharpened. “I don't hanker to go to Reunion,” he said, as though he were thinking aloud, “unless I have to.”
    “Then I suggest that you turn around and bring the girl to my house. My wife and I will do what we can for her, and then I'll ride for a doctor.”
    After a moment of sober thought, the man booted his shotgun and climbed on the stubby little bay. “First,” he said, “we'll make sure that a doctor can help her.” And he nodded for Owen to move out.

    Owen kneed his big-footed mount to an awkward trot as they neared the house. Swinging down from the saddle at the back door, he called to his wife.
    “Elizabeth, looks like we're going to need that room after all.”
    When she appeared in the doorway he saw the look of uneasiness in her eyes. “Owen, is she... hurt badly?”
    “Yes/' he said gently, “she is.”
    “Oh.” After a moment she said, “I'll get the bed ready.”
    Owen helped the young man untie the rough hemp rope that held the girl in her blanket stretcher. She opened her eyes for a moment and stared glassily at Owen. “Cal....”
    she said, her mouth working several times before the sound was made. “Cal... don't let him kill me.”
    The young man said harshly, “Give me a