Part 2
Morning rose slow and hazy. I saddled my Morgan mare and rode to the doctor’s office. Inside, the nurse led me to the wounded man’s room.
“How you feelin’?” I asked.
“Not the best,” he said, “but I’ll live. They got me here before it was too late.”
“That was a close shave,” I said. “If your girl and that townsman hadn’t rushed you here, you’d be gone.”
He nodded weakly. “I didn’t see the shooter clear, but I caught a look. Dark hair. Brown cowboy hat. Riding a mustang.”
“Did he have a reason to shoot you?”
He hesitated. “He was lookin’ for you.”
My stomach tightened.
“I didn’t answer him fast enough,” he continued. “He thought I was bluffin’. Shot me and rode off angry.”
I let out a slow breath. “Thank you.”
Before I left, he asked, “What’s your name?”
“Asher. Yours?”
“Bodie.”
I tipped my hat and stepped out.
The outlaw was hunting me. I didn’t know why — but I intended to find him.
I rode to the sheriff’s office. The deputy stepped out from the back.
“What can I do for you, Asher?”
“Know anything about the man who shot Bodie?”
He sighed. “Might. Been talkin’ to witnesses. Folks are spooked.”
“I’m willing to help catch him.”
“It’s dangerous, boy.”
“I’m willing to face whatever comes.”
He studied me, then handed me a photo. “This is him.”
The face matched Bodie’s description exactly.
I tucked the photo away, mounted my horse, and rode out of town.