was at his side, no doubt roused by his struggles to rise.
“Hush, now,” she said, pushing him back down on the bed. “It isn’t safe for you to move. You’ve been hurt, and you’ll tear the stitches I put in.”
Will sank back onto the bed, registering the increased pain in his thigh and shoulder and trying to process what she had said. “Where am I?” he mumbled.
The woman smiled kindly. “You are on my family’s ranch.”
“Who are you?”
“My name is Elizabeth Arroyo,” she answered quietly.
Will frowned, thinking. That name was familiar. Did he know her? Had she been his friend once, or had her husband helped him at some time? He tried to track the thought but had trouble focusing through the pain in his shoulder, and put the idea away for another time.
“What is your name?” the woman was asking.
He thought briefly, forcing his mind to function. His head was terribly sore, as though he’d been drinking for weeks, and didn’t want to work the way it should. "Will,” he remembered suddenly. “My name is Will Austin."
The woman nodded, and Will noticed that she had kind, dark, beautiful eyes. The kind of eyes that he would have trusted, once. The delicate skin of her face was worn with care and hard living, but still retained a fine-boned beauty.
“Will Austin. Welcome. You are on my family’s ranch outside the town of Santa Maria, about 50 miles south of the border. You have been here for two days.”
Will breathed in sharply. South of the border? What was he doing here? Why had he come so far south? “How did I get here?” he asked quietly.
Elizabeth shrugged. “You were brought here by two of my children. They found you in a clearing in the forest. You had been involved in a gun fight.” She looked expectantly at him, as though she hoped he would finish the story, or at least start it.
A gunfight. An alarm went off in Will’s head, trying to get his attention again, and the memories came flooding back. Guns. In the woods. He had been there with … Suddenly Will exploded out of the bed, jumping to his feet and throwing the blankets on the floor. His leg gave out under him, though, and he fell back to the bed, cursing in pain.
The woman pushed him down again, her face creased with worry and some anger. “Don’t do that! You have very severe injuries to your shoulder and leg. You should not be moving, or you will open the wounds again. Please, sir, you must be still.”
Will gazed up at her, trying to reconcile his memories with the scene he now faced. He thought he remembered a journey south, but could not find the reason in his memory. This woman told him that he was south of the Mexican border, yet she was obviously a white woman, and spoke perfect English. With a Southern accent, unless he was mistaken. “You fixed me up?” he asked, dazed.
“Yes, I did,” she answered, raising her eyebrows. “Now tell me, what are you doing on my property?”
Will turned back into his mind and focused on what he could remember, before the pain had started. “A campsite. I had been at a campsite. But not alone, there was someone else there with me. Someone started shooting at us and … the man next to me was shot …” Will paused, allowing the memory to come back to him. “Oh my God,” he murmured, remembering. He sat up, ignoring the pain in his shoulder, and glared around the room in search of the man who had been with him.
“Roy!” he shouted, his voice hoarse with emotion.
Startled, Elizabeth asked, “Who is Roy?”
Will whipped his face around, praying to find another man in the room with him. “Roy is my deputy, and my best friend.” He glanced from the empty room up to Elizabeth, his eyes pleading. “Please, where is he?”
Elizabeth paused, and Will’s heart sank. He looked deeply into her eyes and read the truth there. “He didn’t survive, did he?” he asked quietly.
The woman shook her head, her face falling. “No, he was dead when my children found you. You were the only one to survive.”
Will nodded, closing in on the rest of the memory. “Mary,” he murmured, his eyes drawing shut. The tears came then, as they always did when he thought of his wife. Within moments he could feel them running down his face, wetting the pillow under his head. “Oh Mary,” he moaned.
The woman above him murmured in sympathy and gathered him to her chest, holding him as he sobbed, and supporting his wounded shoulder. It had been months since he’d felt the warmth and comfort of a woman’s arms, and the action – much to Will’s embarrassment – brought a bout of fresh tears. The loss of his wife, the loss of his friend, the pain of his wounds, and a deep fear for his future came together in a sudden wave of emotion, drowning his relief at finding himself alive. Will resisted, then gave himself up to the emotion, turning his face into the woman’s neck and seeking what comfort he could find there. She held his shaking form until his sobs eased, then laid him gently back down on the bed.
“Would you like to talk?” she asked quietly.
Will turned away, wishing with everything in his heart that he didn’t have to. Wishing that there was nothing to talk about. He tried to close his heart off again, to forget what he had suddenly remembered. To go back to the fogginess with which he had awoken, before the pain had torn through his mind. Sighing, though, he turned back to the woman who had saved him.
“I am sorry for this display of emotion. I know that you are trying to help me. I know you saved my life, and I am very grateful. You have put yourself at great risk for me, though I do not know why. Some part of me recognizes you as a friend, though I cannot explain why. A large part of me wants to trust you.”
Elizabeth nodded, hesitant to interrupt, and Will continued.
“Mary is…” he paused, swallowing heavily. “I mean, she was my wife. Roy … was my deputy. I am the Sheriff of Roma, Texas. Roy and I have been looking for a band of Mexican outlaws. The Gomez Gang escaped from jail several weeks ago, and came to my home while I was away for few hours. They murdered Mary.”
Elizabeth gasped. “The Gomez Gang! I have heard of them.” She paused, thinking. “Why would they come to your house specifically? Were they looking for you?”
“I was the sheriff that put them all in jail.”
“So they killed your wife in retribution.” Elizabeth’s voice was low and sympathetic.
Will nodded silently, then went on. “We had tracked them this far when we decided to stop for the night. We made camp in what must be your forest, and slept. In the morning they ambushed us, though they did not catch us completely defenseless. I shot and killed both the leader, Pedro Gomez, and his younger brother, Santos, who was on a horse to his left. I believe that Roy shot a cousin, Zenon. I also remember the shot that killed Roy. It was from Galeno’s gun. How many bodies did your children find, including Roy’s?”
Elizabeth thought for a moment. “Three Mexican men and your friend Roy. Four bodies.”
Will cursed. “That means that two escaped. It must Galeno and Jose. The others were certainly killed.” He tried again to sit up again, but fell back into the bed when his shoulder began to throb.
Elizabeth
