Logan's Word by Donald L. Robertson

Author:Donald L. Robertson [Robertson, Donald L.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: CM Publishing
Published: 2014-11-30T11:00:00+00:00

19

Josh woke early. He had slept all night, and as his eyes opened, he came instantly awake a trait of self-preservation he had developed over the years. He looked around, surveying his surroundings. Travels Far lay sleeping with his wife on the other side of the wickiup. It was dark still. He listened; the camp was quiet. He lay there for a moment assessing his injuries. His head had stopped hurting. He gently felt the bullet wound; it was still sore to the touch. His face, arms, and chest were sore and tingly, but even before he moved, he realized that much of the pain had dissipated. He sat up—no dizziness. That was good.

As soon as Josh moved, Travels Far slipped out of his bed and stood, motioning for Josh to get dressed and follow him outside. Travels Far stepped outside as Josh was pulling on his buckskin shirt and slipping into his moccasins. He strapped his gun belt on over his buckskin shirt and followed the Indian. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Nadie getting up.

“How do you feel?” Travels Far asked.

“I feel good,” Josh said. He realized that he did feel good. His left leg was still sore, but it was feeling much better. He hated to lose his boot. Those boots had been with him through the war, only needed new soles and heels occasionally. Now he was without boots, and they weren’t cheap.

He could breathe more comfortably. His right side still hurt when he took a deep breath, but he didn’t think a rib was broken. The biggest problem now was his hands. They were still swollen, and his palms had been cut up something fierce. It would take a while for them to heal, and he needed them to be in a lot better shape than they were now—to draw a gun.

“Good, we’ll eat, then take you to Rocking N.”

“I’m forever in your debt.”

Nadie was already building a fire outside the wickiup. Josh didn’t know what she had planned, but he sure knew he was hungry. The rest of the village was starting to stir. The night guards had moved in and were going into their huts to get a little rest before they started the day. The Kickapoo lived with the constant danger of attack from the Comanches.

What I’d give for a cup of coffee, but I’m mighty happy just to be alive. If Travels Far hadn’t found me, I probably would have died out there. I’d never have gotten all those prickly pear thorns out, especially in my back and neck. They’d surely be infected now. Infections could kill a man as dead as any bullet in this country. If he didn’t die, he could lose an arm or a leg from infection. Whatever salve Nadie used worked mighty fine.

They ate a breakfast of venison and mesquite bean bread that Nadie called pinole. The venison was delicious, the bread a little bitter, but still satisfying. Travels Far had spoken

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