Page 77 of The Promise of Jenny Jones
And he’d been shot in the side.
The first thing was to create some shade. When she spotted two tall cacti, Jenny shouted his name and pointed before she rode toward them.
“How badly is he hurt?” Graciela asked for the hundredth time, shifting to lift anxious eyes to her face.
“I don’t fricking know, all right? Please, Graciela, I’m as worried as you are, but I don’t know. We’ll find out in a few minutes.”
But it was bad, she knew that. The knowledge boiled in her brain, searing and frightening her.
Though it appeared they weren’t yet being pursued, they had ridden hard for the last two hours, heading north across arid ground that hadn’t tasted rain in months. Now it was clear they could go no farther.
Blood caked Ty’s right side. Thirty minutes ago, he had slumped in the saddle. Jenny kept watching him, fearing that he would fall off the black at any moment. The sound of the train wheels continued to vibrate in her head, but instead of clickity click, the sound she heard was, Oh God, oh God, oh God.
Please, please, don’t let him be dying. Please, no. I’ll do anything you want, just let him live. She repeated the litany again and again, unaware that she did so.
Swinging out of the saddle near the cacti, she lifted Graciela down and tossed her the reins. “Give me a minute, then tether her.” Shaking fingers fumbled at the girth strap and buckle, then she had the saddle on the ground and dragged it toward the twin cacti. Once she’d draped the horse blanket over the cacti to create a block of shade, she pulled the saddle beneath the canopy. There was a canteen, thank God, but precious little else on the horse that would be of use to them.
The black, with Ty sagging on his back, would have walked past her if she hadn’t run to grab the bridle and one of the reins that dragged the ground. She shouted at Graciela to tether Ty’s horse, too, then caught him as he clumsily tried to dismount, falling heavily against her.
“This way.” Dropping his arm over her shoulder, she led him to the pitiful lean-to she’d constructed. It wasn’t until she had him beneath the horse blanket and resting against the saddle that she realized her heart was slamming against her ribs and she could hardly breathe. He was badly wounded. Very badly.
“What can I do?” Graciela asked in a thin, high voice.
“See if there’s another canteen on the black. Bring everything you can reach.”
Ty opened his eyes, placed a hand against his side. “This one’s bad, Jenny.”
“I know, cowboy. Let’s have a look at you.” Pressing her lips together, she helped him out of his waistcoat, drew a deep breath, then opened his shirt and steeled herself. “It’s not a flesh wound,” she said after a minute. “Lean forward, let’s see if the bullet passed through.”
It hadn’t. And that was bad. Lowering her head, she swore steadily for a full minute, not stopping until Graciela returned and pressed a second canteen into her shaking fingers.
“Here.” Graciela curved her hand around the neck of a bottle of mescal. Mescal packed a powerful punch and she was glad to have it.
Jenny pulled the cork with her teeth and handed the bottle to Ty. He nodded gratefully, took a long pull, then wiped the back of his hand across his lips. Graciela knelt on one side of him, Jenny on the other.
“This one could get me. It won’t… but it could.”
“It will,” Jenny said flatly, “unless we get some help.”
Graciela stared at him. “I’ll sew you up!”
Jenny’s chest rose and fell before she spoke. “Honey, this is different. That bullet has to come out.”
Graciela wrung her hands, and tears and snot rolled down her face. “We’ll take it out!”
Jenny gazed into his eyes. He knew what she was going to say. They held each other’s gaze. “We’ll talk about it, but I don’t think so. If I make one tiny mistake, I’ll kill him.” What she didn’t say, what made her wild and frantic inside, was knowing that even if she got the bullet out, he’d already lost too much blood to ride. Ty wasn’t going anywhere.
Graciela clawed at her arm. “You have to try! Jenny, you have to cut out the bullet! I’ll help!”
Ty held Jenny’s gaze for another minute, then reached for Graciela’s hand. “Honey, you and Jenny can’t stay here. Luis was one of the men who blew up the train. We didn’t get him. He’ll be coming after us.”
“We won’t go,” Graciela wailed. “We won’t leave you!”
“Graciela, we’ve got two canteens. Only enough water to last until tomorrow, a couple more days if we ration. And no food. Even if Luis wasn’t after you, you’ll die if you stay here.”
Oh God, oh God, oh God. The words clicked through her mind, drowning the scream stuck in her throat.
She made herself speak in a low calm voice. “He’ll need nursing, Graciela, constant tending for at least a week. But we don’t have food or water to keep us alive for a week. If we stay, it’s suicide.”
