Knowing it was do or die, Cole strained to the utmost to break out of the ropes in which he was tied. For a long moment, they held but then the knot finally slipped and Cole’s hands were free. Struggling his way out of the sandy earth, he struggled with the rope around his feet, but finally managed to pull free. Agony swam up and down his leg from the bullet wound. Cole spat sand from his mouth and tried to stand on his wounded leg.
He found himself in a fairly average looking part of the Badlands. The terrain was rocky and threatening but it was still dark. The night was clear, though the moon dipped low above the horizon. Nothing appeared to be around beyond some jagged rocks and, of course, the pack of coyotes that he heard earlier. Whooping frantically, he tried to drive them away, but instead they came closer. He could see that they were starved, ribs visible, lean and slavering.
Hurling a rock, Cole managed to hit one of them in the head. That caused the others to back off, and Cole began limping through the badlands on his bad leg like there was no tomorrow, because if he didn’t make it out there wouldn’t be. Unfortunately, he had no way of telling where he was going until he saw something gleaming in the light of the thin crescent moon.
Picking it up, he saw that someone, perhaps one of the Pinkerton agents, had dropped a miniature compass. At the moment, he didn’t care where it came from, if he could use it to gain his bearings and escape the Badlands. Squinting at the small print in the moonlight, he was able to tell approximately what direction Dusthaven should be, based on where he had gone when leaving. He prayed that he was right. The slinking coyotes had not gone far.
Climbing a rocky hill, Cole was surprised to see the lights of Dusthaven winking in the distance. The Pinkertons apparently didn't think he'd be able to get out of his hasty grave, and buried him somewhere that it would be easy for them to get back to Dusthaven afterward. Thanking God for lazy detectives, he limped for all he was worth toward the welcoming lights.
Unfortunately his shot leg gave out and he fell, the coyotes closing in on him with hungry snarls. He had no weapons left, but the hungry beasts were fighting each other for the meal as much as him. One of the coyotes savaged his arm, adding to his pain and nearly causing him to black out, but he managed to kick it away with his good leg and get up again.
Running was not an option, and now he was in a slow race with the coyotes and the burning dawn that was beginning to show around the edge of the horizon. The coyotes snapped closer, and then closer still, moving just out of range of his flailing fists, then backed off further as they sensed they were approaching the presence of more humans.
With his last ounce of strength, Cole staggered into the hard packed main street of Dusthaven, giving an exultant shout as he headed toward the town well as the sun rose at last from behind the mountains. His strength gave out, and he collapsed near the town well, no loner even able to care if the coyotes had followed him into town.
He didn’t pass out, but he didn’t know how long he lay there in pain before a settler woman in a grey dress and sunbonnet came up the street, a wooden bucket in her hand. She saw him lying by the well, and cried out in a shocked voice “Finn!” A man in plain settler’s clothes came out of one of the homes along the street and saw Cole lying at the foot of the well.
“Sweet Jesus!” he cried. “Help me get him to Doc Zeismer’s.” Putting an arm under Cole’s shoulder, Finn and his wife dragged him to his feet. “Man alive, looks like the coyotes been chewing on him.”
“Isn’t it the jinx?” the woman asked fearfully.
“Even if it is, we can’t just leave him out here. It ain’t Christian.” Finn hurried Cole along the street and soon they reached Dr. Zeismer’s place. The officious German gave Cole some morphine and then set to work on his leg.
“He is lucky he got back here before gangrene set in,” muttered Zeismer. “I think he’ll be all right, but he will need rest. Can you get him back to his cabin, Mr. Finn?” The settler nodded, and they took Cole back to his cabin in a buckboard. He wasn’t in any shape to do much about it, but he noticed that Nevah had come home and was cropping some brush near his barn.
For most of the day, Cole was under the effects of the morphine. He could hear the various rebuilding efforts in town going on, but he couldn’t really participate. And once the morphine wore off, he really didn’t want to move although he could still cook for himself. He resigned himself to being absent from the town and found himself thinking more than was healthy about Evelyn Fairfax’s Pinkerton agents. He hoped that they did not come after him again because he’d been lucky to get away the last time.
About sunset, he heard the sound of hoofbeats approaching his cabin. He looked about for some weapon. The Pinkertons had taken his six-gun at the smelting plant, but he still had his derringer in a drawer. It was better than nothing, so he pushed himself out of bed, took the derringer in hand, and waited by the door. Shortly, there was a curt rap on the door, and he slowly unlatched it, derringer in his palm. In the dim lamplight spilling out his door, he saw Weston Kane standing on the stoop.
“Kane,” he cried. “Thank God you’re alive.” Kane didn’t even look that much the wors for wear, unlike Cole. Apparently the Pinkertons had not felt like putting any lead in him.
“They took me into the desert and buried me,” said Kane. “I was stuck in there until some miner came along and scared away the buzzards. I was surprised how he knew and it was crazy how close to Dusthaven I was.”
“Do you know anything about Lily?” Cole asked.
“It sounds like she got away too, ‘least that’s what I heard when I got back in town. I went to their house but she wouldn’t see me. Hell, I don’t blame her. I got her into that mess. Did you know it was her sixteenth birthday today?”
“No,” said Cole. “It must be a sad day without her father.”
“Yeah,” said Kane. “And that’s my fault too. I didn’t stay around there too long, that place was all kinds of unwelcoming. When I got back to my place, I found this under the door.” He handed Cole another wanted poster for Viper Callahan.
“He’s dead,” said Cole. “We found the body. It was like he burnt from the inside out.”
“It’s what’s on the back that’s disturbin’ me,” said Kane, turning the poster over.
On the back, written in delicate, precise script, was a frightening warning.
“Dear Mr. Kane,
You have now had a taste of what happens when people interfere in our business. Do not come looking again. You will not find us, until we want you to. You are in no way prepared for the hell that will be unleashed on you if you continue to meddle in our affairs. Our numbers grow every day. We are everywhere, we are everyone. The next grave you find yourself in will be of a more permanent nature.”
“I understand why you can’t come with me,” said Kane. “But I don’t take well to threats, and I’m going to Red Rock Gulch to see if I can learn more about what that termagant is up to.”
“Be careful,” said Cole. “It sounds like she’s expecting us.”
“I don’t doubt it. But maybe by the time you’ve mended, I’ll have more news and we can take her on together.”
Watching him ride away, Cole wondered if his reputation in town wasn’t warranted after all. And he hoped his bad influence would not lead to Kane’s death. But he was in no shape to protect the man.
