Shadow of a Star

CHAPTER ONE They had shaken the last sign of pursuit two days ago. Now they had to stop riding, for Curly Jack was dying on their hands. They eased him to the warm ground beneath the thin shade of a mesquite. Because the sun still came through, Dencil Fox unsaddled Curly Jack's horse and draped the wet saddle blanket across the branches to deepen the shade. Dencil poured water from a canteen into a handkerchief and gently touched it to Jack's fevered face. "You just need to rest a spell, pardner," he said. "You'll be all right directly." But he knew he was lying. There was the smell of gangrene about Curly Jackthe smell of death. He wondered how Jack had managed to stay in the saddle as long as he had. It wasn't such a bad wound, they had thought. A bullet high in the shoulder, nothing fatal. But they hadn't dared hunt for a doctor. And the posse hadn't given them much chance to probe for the bullet the first couple of days. When at last they'd had time for Dencil to try, he hadn't been able to extract the slug. If anything, his efforts had made things worse. Jack weakly motioned toward the canteen, and Dencil touched it to his lips, lifting Jack's head. The other three men stood around uncomfortably, a deep weariness in their eyes, the droop of their shoulders. They were dusty and bearded. The oldest two were silent, but the youngest began to complain. "We could have left him off someplace the first day. They'd have found him and took care of him." Dencil Fox frowned quickly at his younger brother, then looked back at Curly Jack. "They'd have taken care of him, all right. Jack had rather go this way than at the end of a rope." "If he was goin' to die anyhow, at least we wouldn't have been saddled down with him." Sharply Dencil said, "Shut up, Buster!" He knew Curly Jack could still hear all that was said. Buster kept talking. "If he'd shot that bank teller, he wouldn't have caught a slug himself." Dencil said, "We didn't go in there to kill anybody." "Youdidn'tkill anybody. And you didn't get any money, either." "We didn't figure on that gutty teller. And we never did know where he got that gun so fast." Buster Fox said bitterly, "Leavin' me outside to hold the horses...If I'd been in there, things would've been a right smart different." "That's why we left you outside." "Well, you won't leave me outside next time!" Curly Jack died without ever speaking a word. Because there was no shovel, they had to carry him to an arroyo, roll him in his saddle blanket, and cave a steep bank in on top of him. This way, at least, no one was likely to find him for a while. Later, if a rise came down the arroyo and washed the body out into the open, the four riders would be so far gone that the discovery would not put them in danger. Dencil Fox stood with hat in hand, gravely looking down on the pile of fresh-caved earth at the bottom of the arroyo. "Mighty poor way to leave you, Jack." His voice was sorrowful. "No marker, no preacher to read over you." Buster spoke dryly, "Jack wasn't exactly the church-goin' kind." Dencil said, "He was a good man, and don't you forget it." "Too bad he wasn't a good shot." They rode on then, leading Jack's horse for an extra, putting mKelton, Elmer is the author of 'Shadow of a Star' with ISBN 9780765342997 and ISBN 0765342995.