A Requiem for Boon by Ed Kurtz

Author:Ed Kurtz [Kurtz, Ed]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: western
Publisher: Crossroad Press
Published: 2021-10-09T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-Four

Lily

The heat of the day was at its worst when finally we emerged from the forest, a trio of bedraggled fugitivos squinting at the white, open sky and rolling plain like none of us had ever seen it or imagined it possible. I hid my face for a while in Boon’s hair, which smelled like pine and woodsmoke, until I could get used to all that noontime glare. Even then, I still smelled the forest in her hair.

We rode without incident the rest of that day, avoiding main trails and stopping several times to check on Edward’s horse—and Edward. He was sagging in the saddle, slumped over the pommel and bouncing like a rag doll half the time. In a quiet voice, I suggested to Boon that maybe we ought not to have allowed him to drink all that liquor with Luke the night before.

“Who’s gonna stop him? You?”

I never could before, though in truth, I never really tried. A strong word or a disapproving look now and then, but in time I came to believe Edward only saw me as a finical old tía, never mind that he was some fifteen or twenty years older than me. He could simply laugh me off and take himself another pull at the bottle or order another glass at the bar, never worrying that I might be worrying about him.

“Besides,” Boon went on, “he ain’t the one got shot in the leg.”

“My leg is fine,” I said without thinking about it. The injury hadn’t been bothering me to the point of making a fuss, but there was a dull ache and a kind of cold fire in the flesh that wasn’t too pleasant. At least the bullet only scored me, rather than going directly into the flesh. “How much farther before we make camp?”

“As far as we can go,” she said. “We won’t need to push these horses anymore once we find a train, so we’ll push them a fair bit now. It’s none too comfortable for any of us, I know, but we can’t tarry.”

Boon and Edward worked those mounts into a lather, all right, not so much from loping or galloping, but just plain endurance. We’d left before sunup, and it was dusk when at last we stopped for the night. Boon built a little fire and Edward heated water to make a compress for his mare’s fetlock. I’d never seen him so careful about a horse before. The old man was turning into a regular animal lover.

He slept that night under a sugan Luke gifted us, but only after arguing with Boon that he didn’t want it and that we should use it, instead. There was no missing the fact that Boon was treating him like he was made of glass ever since his heart episode, nor that he resented the treatment.

“Ain’t neither of you no kind of doctor, anyhow,” he grumbled after finally accepting the sugan and curling up with the saddle for a pillow. “This heart here is strong as ever.

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