Page 21 of Saddles

“Are you hurt?” I’m torn on what to do.

No answer.

“Wake up. How am I supposed to help you?” I toe her shoulder with my boot, but there’s no reaction.

She lolls in the snow like a ragdoll.

Roscoe paces a trench on the other side of her, then drops his haunches and does his little cry-whine like he wants something.

“What do I do, boy?” Fine. I’ll try.

Grabbing the front of her snowsuit, I drag her up to a sitting position.

This outfit is about twenty times too big for her.

Sneakers? No gloves?

Her hands are almost blue icicles.

Son of a bitch. She’s practically frozen through.

Shaking her lightly doesn’t get a response.

I gotta get back to the cabin before I freeze too.

She might be armed.

I do a fast pat down, but don’t feel anything through the thick layer of the outer layer.

After stuffing my pistol into my waistband, I fling her over my shoulder. It’d be too hard to walk with her in my arms through the deepening drifts.

The snow is nearly over my knees in some spots, and the wind throwing it against my face doesn’t help.

My feet are nearly numb by the time I get to the cabin and push into the heat of the small room.

I set her on the bed and she flops over onto her side.

“What the fuck do I do now?” I mutter under my breath.

Roscoe tilts his head from his corner.

“You’re helpful.” I shed my heavy coat and hang it on the hook by the stove, then toss a log on to get the fire raging.

Turning back to the mystery woman, I stare down at her for a hard minute.

“I need to take your helmet off. Can you hear me?” I tap her on the arm hard enough it should rouse her.

Carefully, so I don’t yank her head around, I tug it off.

A tangled mess of dirty blond hair spreads across the blanket, and I can clearly see the cuts and bruises on her face.

Jesus, those are old. They aren’t from the wreck.

“What the hell happened to you?” I’m not sure if she’s been the one who’s been pushing the cows, but someone has been beating the shit out of her.

Anger tightens in my chest as a flood of old emotions rush in.

Uselessness ranks near the top.

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