Hisbullet.
He couldn’t tell for sure how deep the wound ran, but it looked to be into the muscle, and drops of blood leaked in a steady trickle.
Don’t die on me. Lorelei would never forgive him for not only allowing the calf to be hurt but actually causing the wound himself.
But the only way this injury could be fatal was if the wound festered, or if the calf bled to death, though that didn’t seem likely with the slowing drips.
Still, he had to get Curly in and doctored.
The calf allowed himself to be guided back inside the fort walls, though he let out a pitiful bleat that sounded more goat than buffalo.
As soon as Curly was safe inside, Tanner patted him on the shoulder. “I’ll be back soon. Rest now.”
He stepped back outside the gate and settled the latch securely, then turned and headed around to the front of the fort to find that mule.
Hopefully the animal had settled down, and maybe even begun grazing. Losing those rifles would be terrible, notonly because of how much Tanner had paid for them, but who knew what man might get his hands on them? The weapons were meant to provide the people here with hunting tools, not start a war between whites and Natives.
When Tanner reached the front of the fort, the area proved empty, save for the Sioux camp down in the valley. Had the mule gone that way? The Sioux had moved their horses one valley over, so maybe the animal had followed the scent of the other. Or perhaps he’d gone after his master and the horses he was familiar with.
Tanner’s gut pulled a little tighter at that thought. That would make him much harder to find. But if the mule was dripping blood, Tanner should be able to track him.
As he jogged toward the place the animal had broken free of its tether, the pain in his own shoulder began to radiate. He needed to move faster. Push aside this discomfort. His wound was only a graze of the bullet. Just like Curly’s.
Buck up, Mason. You’re stronger than thecalf.
A noise from his right broke through his thoughts. Behind a cluster of cedars, he could just see a patch of brown fur exactly the right height to be a mule. He started that direction, and as he neared, the animal let loose a bray.
The knot in his chest eased a little. Now if he could just catch the beast.
But as soon as the mule caught sight of him through the trees, he blew a skittish snort.
Tanner slowed even more and extended the hand on his injured side since the other held his rifle. “Easy there, fellow. I’m here to help.” His head and shoulder throbbed, but he worked hard to keep his voice level.
The mule must not have liked the sound, though, forit spun and darted away, bucking out its hind legs toward Tanner as it ran and brayed.
A dozen strides away, the animal slowed and halted, dropping its head low. From this angle, the blood dripping down its neck could be easily seen.
Tanner had caused that injury too. Just like Curly’s. Both had been to stop something worse from happening, but why did it seem he was always the villain, even when he tried to protect?
The bile churning in his middle felt too much like that last day in his father’s home. He believed he’d been saving his father and their entire family when he presented the case against Cameron. But Pa hadn’t viewed the news that way. He’d seen Tanner’s efforts to collect all those documents as a traitorous act. Deliberate sabotage against the cousin who he’d always been jealous of.
And maybe Pa had even thought Tanner was trying to bring down the business his father had worked most of his life to build into a massive empire.
Of course Michael Mason wouldn’t let his kingdom fall apart so easily. The reputation of Mason Mercantile would be easy enough to rebuild. Even the lost money could be regained, despite the additional schemes Cameron had been planning with his merciless business partners.
Tanner fought to pull out of the memories, out of that bitter place he’d left behind when he rode out of Massachusetts.
The mule eyed him warily as he approached once more, with his hand trembling, but his step slow and steady. He’d not speak this time, for it might’ve been his voice that scared the animal before.
When about three strides separated them, a noise from the left jerked the mule’s attention. That sounded like the heavy tromping of an animal, perhaps more than one.
The mule brayed again, its entire body quivering with the sound. Then it spun and kicked out once more as it ran away.
A new bout of frustration swept through Tanner. He had to catch that mule.
He glanced back over his shoulder to see who approached. Hopefully Purcey hadn’t returned for the animal and the rifles. Though Tanner’s gun was loaded, he was in no condition to resume the battle.
Three horses emerged from the trees, all familiar, though his pain-fogged mind took a second to register how he knew them. Only when his gaze tracked upward to the riders did a weight finally lift from his chest.
