“That it does,” Blaze replied.
They started walking toward the doctor’s office, the wooden boardwalk creaking under their boots. The town was comingalive again. Blaze heard the sound of water being tossed from buckets, the murmur of people cleaning broken glass, and the local saloonkeeper sweeping bullet shells into a pan.
“You sure you’re alright?” Rachel asked, glancing at his side.
“I’ll be fine,” Blaze said. “Had worse.”
“Don’t make me prove you wrong,” she muttered.
They reached the doctor’s door just as it opened. The old man wiped his hands on a rag, his spectacles glinting in the afternoon light.
“You again,” he said. “I was wondering when you’d show up.”
“Is the deputy still breathing?” Blaze asked.
“Stubborn as a mule. He’ll live.” The doctor’s gaze fell to Blaze’s bloodied shirt. “You, on the other hand, might not if you keep standin’ there.”
“I’ve been told that before,” Blaze said.
“Get inside,” he replied.
Rachel followed him in while Marisol and Graycloud lingered near the doorway. The room smelled of whiskey andiodine. Blaze eased onto the cot while the doctor unbuttoned his shirt and inspected the wound.
“Through and through,” the doctor said. “Didn’t hit anything vital.”
“Lucky shot,” Blaze said.
“Luck’s runnin’ thin for you, son,” the doctor said, cleaning the cut. “You might wanna stop making enemies that shoot straight.”
“I’ll think on it,” Blaze replied with a small smile.
He found comfort in the doctor’s words. He knew so little of what he had been through.
Now, life was only supposed to get better. The nightmare was over.
Rachel stood beside the cot with her arms crossed. “You’ll think on it? That’s what you always say.”
“Means I’ll probably do the opposite,” Blaze replied.
She tried to scowl, but the corner of her mouth twitched. “You never change.”
The doctor wrapped the bandage tightly. “There,” he said. “You’ll be sore for a while. No heavy liftin’, no ridin’ hard for a few days.”
“Appreciate it,” Blaze said, getting to his feet.
“You’ll be back, kid,” the doctor said, “if you continue getting yourself into trouble.”
“Hope you’re wrong about that,” Blaze replied.
Outside, the light was softer. The heat was fading as the sun dipped lower behind the ridge. Marisol leaned against the porch rail, her rifle resting beside her. Graycloud was talking quietly with a few townsfolk who had gathered nearby.
Rachel stepped beside him. “You all really went through hell, didn’t you?”
“You could say that,” Blaze replied.
“Wilder’s gone?” she asked.
“Gone,” Blaze said. “I shot him...and then the mine collapsed on him. I saw it. He got what was coming.”
