Page 73 of Falling for the Cowgirl
Otis’s eyes flew open, and the agony there testified to the truth of what Jericho had spoken.
Before Jericho could react, Otis lunged forward, wrapped both hands around Jericho’s neck, and squeezed. His grip was like an iron manacle, unyielding and unmoving.
Jericho tugged at Otis’s fingers in a desperate attempt to loosen them. But the veins in Otis’s forehead bulged, and his cheeks reddened, his fury giving him a burst of strength that defied human capabilities.
Strangely, Otis’s eyes were dull, almost as if he wasn’t present any longer. Maybe he was indeed somewhere in the past, picturing his dad’s face in place of Jericho’s—the dad who had not only failed to love him but, if the reports in the files were true, had treated him worse than a mangy mutt, kicking, beating, and starving him.
No doubt Otis’s hatred and bitterness had fueled his brutal murders of so many others. And if Jericho let his own hatred and bitterness fuel the murder of this man, where would his depravity stop? What kind of man would he become? Certainly not much better than Otis.
Jericho slipped his knife up and cut Otis’s hand, forcing him to release his hold. As the outlaw screamed and dropped his hand, Jericho tore off a strip of his shirt and quickly wrapped it around Otis’s new cut to staunch the bleeding.
As much as Jericho wanted to make the man suffer for all he’d done, he couldn’t let revenge have a greater need inside him than justice. After all, revenge had to do with payback for selfish satisfaction. But justice was about righting wrongs for the good of everyone.
“I’m making a litter for Ivy, and you’re helping me carry her down the mountain.” He fastened a cord around Otis’s hands, binding them together. The man would be weak from his wounds and asthma, but he could brace the poles on his shoulders, at least until Jericho found a horse or a passerby who could assist him.
Otis leaned back against the wall, his eyes closed. “Told you to kill me.”
“I’ll be taking you into Denver and to jail so you can stand trial for all you did.” Jericho secured Otis tightly, making sure he wouldn’t be able to get loose. Then he checked him for any hidden weapons.
“They’ll end up hanging me, so might as well get on with it.”
Jericho unsheathed a knife tucked away under Otis’s shirt. “I’m not the judge. I’m just the bounty hunter.” He found another knife in Otis’s boot.
“Why not save everyone the time and effort and tell them you were defending yourself and Miss McQuaid?”
Jericho had considered the possibility. But as he swallowed more of his rage, his head began to clear, and he knew he had to do some work on his own heart once he had Otis locked away.
“I need your help in carrying Ivy down the mountain.”
“And what if I don’t help you?”
“You will. Ivy’s a good woman, and you know she doesn’t deserve to die out here.”
“She shot me.”
“Because you would have shot her first.”
Otis dragged in a shuddering breath, as if gathering the strength to resist.
“Then do it because you know this will be your last chance to make up for your wrongs.”
Otis was silent for several heartbeats. Jericho would carry Ivy out on his own if he had to, but she’d suffer less if they worked together to transport her. Finally Otis nodded. “Alright.”
Jericho nodded his thanks in return.
As he crawled toward Ivy, his gut cinched again at the sight of the knife handle and the blood covering her bodice. He examined the entry point and the wound. Although he wanted to pull out the knife, he knew he needed to wait and let a doctor take care of it, especially since the knife appeared to be plugging the wound and preventing too much blood loss. Instead, he did his best to form a makeshift sling to keep her arm immobile during the long trek.
Next he tied together the coats and shirts he divested from the others, and he created a litter. Then using two long charred but sturdy branches, he knotted the litter to the poles.
After securing the remaining prisoners, he carried Ivy out of the caves as carefully as he could. As he placed her gently on the makeshift litter, she moaned but didn’t awaken. Finally he prodded Otis out of the caverns into the smoke-laden air. With watering eyes and a hacking cough,Otis cooperated with bracing one end of the litter on his shoulders, even though he grunted from the pain of his arm wound.
The climb down through the scorched forest was steep and difficult. But without the tangle of brush to slow them, the hike went faster than Jericho expected. Thankfully, Ivy mostly remained unconscious, awakening only on and off.
When they entered a swath of forest that hadn’t yet been burned to the ground, he prayed he’d soon locate their mounts. But as the shadows of evening stretched longer and darkness crept in around them, he began to despair that he’d find a faster way to transport Ivy so she could get the doctoring she needed.
Eventually they reached the wagon road that led into Fairplay. It was smoother and wider and less jarring for Ivy on the litter. Even there, Otis’s steps dragged more, until he fell to his knees. “I can’t go on.”
Overhead through the canopy of spruce, Jericho glimpsed a hawk circling in the sky, its long wings spread, revealing the streaked pattern of either a Cooper’s or sharp-shinned hawk. The smoke had thinned, showing the pale blue of the evening sky. Though the scent of burning forest lingered in the air, Jericho had taken them far from the flames that still glowed an orange red over long portions of the range.
