Free The Gila Wars by Larry D. Sweazy Page B

be a scar, but that was the least of his concerns. He only wanted to get better, to be ready to ride back to the Ranger camp when Scrap returned.
    Francesca had disappeared. He hadn’t seen her since she had left his room. Adolfo ventured in and out of the cantina now and then, checking on him, making sure there was water for him to drink, that he was still in the shade. Josiah didn’t ask about Francesca, even though he wanted to. He wanted to see her again. He wanted to know if she was real, or just another vision, a painful response to his need for comfort after being shot. For all he knew, Adolfo was the only one tending to him, and Francesca was only a figment of his imagination. It would have been easier if that were the truth.

CHAPTER 10

    A cart pulled by a pair of haggard oxen ambled down the street. Arroyo had little to offer any travelers or its residents; a few adobe buildings along with the mission, a mercantile of sorts, and another building that looked shuttered, closed for business of any kind. For whatever reason, prosperity had overlooked the town and the people who had chosen to call it home.
    There had been no horse traffic since Josiah had been sitting on the veranda, so the cart caught his attention, and raised his concern about his own safety, as well as Adolfo’s and Francesca’s, since he was sitting alone and unarmed.
    He stiffened in the chair, knowing he had little energy, or time, to hurry off to his room and find his gun—which he didn’t know where to find. Not a good thing since an uncertain need of it had arisen. The realization sat uncomfortably in his stomach, and he knew he’d need to see to rearming himself sooner rather than later. He hoped the man driving the cart was just another Mexican passing through, or arriving home, and nothing more. The sun was in his eyes, and it was difficult to tell much about the driver’s features, whether he might be friend or foe.
    The breakfast had done little to rid Josiah of the weakness that had greeted him when he’d awoken. It increased instead of fading as he had hoped. Beads of sweat appeared on his forehead as quickly as he could wipe them away, and he shivered unknowingly, thinking it was only a reaction to the fear he felt, the exposure and vulnerability of being alone in an unknown place. Josiah was not accustomed to what he was feeling.
    He started to get up and realized he was too weak to stand. His balance was off, and suddenly the world was spinning.
    The sky was the ground and the ground was the sky.
    If there were clouds, or any weather at all, Josiah couldn’t tell. Everything was growing dark. He thought to call out, but his voice caught in his throat, leaving him a prisoner inside his body, any and all control of his functions and fear lost as the darkness quickly turned to black.
    * * *
    Josiah awoke in bed, staring at a familiar face.
    â€œIt is good to see you,
mi amigo
,” Juan Carlos said.
    Josiah’s mouth was dry. He felt like he had been walking in the desert for months, starved of food and water. He knew it was a great possibility that he was dreaming, that the man hovering over him wasn’t really Juan Carlos Montegné, half brother of Hiram Fikes, uncle to his Pearl, as well as a friend and a savior who had stood between him and death on more than one occasion. If
this
was a dream, it would make sense that his mind had conjured Juan Carlos.
    A glass full of water appeared at his lips, and Josiah drank it hungrily, slowly accepting the reality that he was still among the living. He flicked his eyes open and closed them as fast as he could, trying to focus, to make sure he was seeing straight. It
was
Juan Carlos he was staring at, and any fear he felt in the recesses of his body dissipated. He knew he was safe now.
    After drinking all of the water, he was able to speak, but only softly. His throat was coarse, like his voice box had been dragged through rough sand.