Cold. Joe wished, for a long, painful moment, that he could just go back to sleep. There was no pain there, in sleep, no relentless wind. The chill breeze kept him from drifting off again, slipping over and around his prone body like icy fingers until he forced himself to lift his head from the grit that pillowed his cheek.
In a heartbeat he remembered what had happened.
"Sonofabitch," he muttered hoarsely as he rolled himself, slowly and carefully, onto his back to stare up at the stars. Those two weasels had come out of nowhere, jumping him from behind in the dark alley beside the boarding house where he'd been staying. He'd put up a good fight, getting in more than his share of solid licks and heading toward victory, until one of the bastards had hit him over the head with something solid and heavy, and then everything had gone black.
He lifted a hand--it was more of an effort than he wanted to admit--and touched the tender knot on the side of his head.
The night's events came back to him in bits and pieces; slow and gradual as he stared at the black sky sprinkled with countless stars. He'd come awake on the back of his horse, slung over the saddle like a dead man. They were already far from town when he awoke, lost in darkness and silence. As soon as the horse came to a halt, one of the ruffians tossed him to the ground, and then the other ... Joe wracked his brain to remember ... and then the other one shot him.
He put a hand to his side, where his flesh ached and throbbed and burned like hell. "Damn," he whispered when his exploring fingers fell on damp, sticky fabric.
Well, this was no fine end for a respected lawman and fast gun. Jumped from behind, taken by two strangers who had appeared, in Joe's estimation, to be less than ingenious. He moved a hand to his thigh, feeling instinctively for his gun, and cursed again when he found it gone. They'd left him alive--which was most likely a mistake--but they'd taken his weapon and left him out in the middle of nowhere without a horse.
A soft whicker belied that last supposition, and Joe actually managed to smile. They might've tried to scare Snowdrop off, but by God that horse was too well-trained to run far or long.
"Come here, girl," he whispered, and she did, lowering her nose to nuzzle his chin. "If I could move, I'd climb up there right now and we'd head back to town and take care of those varmints, wouldn't we?"
Snowdrop whickered again in response, and Joe reached up to stroke her nose.
"Unfortunately I'm not sure I can move at all, much less make it into the saddle."
That was the sad truth, but Joe ground his teeth and tried to sit up anyway. Lying here in the dirt and doing nothing but admiring the stars was a sure way to die. Every muscle in his body hurt, and the pain in his side was excruciating. When he had almost reached a sitting position, the world swam and tilted and he was sure he'd pass out. Well, he'd pass out if he was lucky. There were worse possibilities at the moment.
No one would miss him. No one would look for him. He'd ridden into Silver Creek on his own, not even notifying the sheriff that he was on assignment in the man's county. No, the locals didn't always appreciate federal assistance, and they usually ended up doing more harm than good. Webb wouldn't miss him for weeks, and then ... by then Joe White would just be another name added to the list of lawmen who'd disappeared while searching for Charlie Lockhart.
"You know, Snowdrop," he said as he sat very still and tried to regain his strength. "I knew this was a dangerous business when I decided to deputy for Marshal Webb, and I knew full well that coming after Charlie Lockhart would have dangers all its own. But I figured I'd go down in a gunfight; take a few bad guys with me; die quick. Leave sobbing, brokenhearted women on the boardwalk." He grinned at his ridiculous words, and even Snowdrop snorted. "I never figured on dying like this; slow, in the middle of nowhere, all alone."
The mare protested, shaking her head and snorting loudly.
"Sorry about that," Joe apologized as he worked awkwardly up and onto his knees. "Of course I'm not alone."
)
Joe White had made some very serious enemies because of his skills. He was a good man--one of the few in this dirty Western town. On the right side of the law, he was able to capture and kill the criminals that plagued the town--but he didn't realize that his good deeds would come back to haunt him. Left for dead in the forest, White found seven kind strangers to help him hide--but they had problems of their own. The only person that could save the seven Shorter sisters was the prim Sarah Prince. She would be the key to their survival, and Joe's, if only the shorter sisters could get them to see how perfect they were for each other. Only Sarah Prince's kiss could open Joe White's eyes to the love that would save them all....
