Daughter of the Morning Star by Craig Johnson

Author:Craig Johnson [Johnson, Craig]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Mystery, Thriller, Adventure
ISBN: 9780593297254
Google: pwg_EAAAQBAJ
Amazon: B08Y6D74GY
Goodreads: 57345681
Publisher: Viking
Published: 2021-09-15T05:00:00+00:00

* * *

—

Flies, at least I thought they were flies.

That was the first thing I became aware of, late-season flies, buzzing around my head and my hat that partially covered my face.

I lay in the warmth of the sun, just happy to be breathing.

“Boy howdy, do I feel like shit.”

I pulled the hat from my face but immediately regretted the decision, the sunlight blinding me, so I pulled both arms up to cover my eyes like an involuntary vampire. Hitting myself in the teeth with the hammer of my Colt, I moved it to the side and then lay there trying hard not to concentrate on the taste in my mouth.

Leveraging up on one elbow, I looked around at the day and the position of the sun. “What the hell time is it?”

Reaching into my jeans to retrieve my pocket watch, I pulled it out by the horsehead fob and dangled it in front of my face, where it read 8:17. The crystal protecting the face of the watch was broken. I stared at it, figuring I must’ve damaged the thing in my fall. Tucking it back into the pocket, I scanned the canyon that in the light of day looked relatively benign. I guess I was lucky that the cougar hadn’t come around for a second course.

I sat up a bit more and was able to grab a limb of one of the small trees nearby and was startled to see it was over forty feet.

After looking around at the tiny canyon, I realized that all the trees were at least that height. Laughing, I stood and felt the back of my head where the blood had crusted in my hair. Figuring I must’ve hit harder than I thought, I glanced around some more and then noticed something even stranger—I wasn’t on the side of the canyon floor where I’d been last night.

Instead, I was just below where I’d fallen, the blood marking the spot where I’d slid to a stop, more blood than there would’ve been if I’d immediately gotten up, which I thought I had.

It was morning, and Henry and who knew who else would be worried about me.

I wondered if the Cheyenne Nation had found Dog.

Slow and steady, I climbed the rocks, and paused at the cornice where there was a little blood and hair stuck to it about halfway up—I was lucky I hadn’t bashed my brains in. Staggering over the rim, I sat there catching my breath before being surprised by major league sniffing to the side of my head that threatened to send my hat cascading back down into the canyon. I caught it and turned to my partner in crime.

Dog was wagging and smiling at me, but when I reached out to him, he backed away and whined. I laughed, first at his reaction to me and then because I could count on one hand how many times I’d heard him make that noise. Maybe it was just the blood. I reached out for him again, but he ducked his big head and backed away another step.

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