One Went to Denver and the Other Went Wrong (Code of the West) by Stephen Bly

couldn’t see his feet or legs. Only the fresh long-sleeve, collarless cotton shirt and the brown leather suspenders. He was laughing. Or singing a song. Or both.
      His mop of blond hair hung almost to his shoulders, but it was neatly combed back behind his ears. His face was scrubbed clean. A touch of summer tan in his cheeks. His mouth was small, round, and constantly in motion.
      For some reason Pepper expected that his eyes would be blue or maybe green. She was surprised to see they were dark brown. They seemed to dance. He shot a quick glance at the horizon, then at the sky. Then toward Pepper. A hummingbird that paused in midair caught his attention.
      Pepper scooted through the tall grass to catch up with the boy. She wore a bright peach-colored dress with wide white cotton belt. A straw hat was pushed back on her head. She carried a closed parasol that she used as a walking stick.
      Such a beautiful child. He’s so alert. So active. But he could get hurt out here. Where are his parents? He must have wandered off. Perhaps they’re back in the trees. I’ll just watch him for a while. He’s so adorable. He acts like he doesn’t even see me.
      The boy, who seemed about three years old, stopped running and picked up a stick. Holding it in his chubby little hand, he tossed it through the green weeds. Immature heads of wild oats burst into the blue sky.
      A gentle, cool breeze swept up from the slope of the rolling hills forming a wave in the weeds. The little boy threw the stick, ran to retrieve it. Then threw it again. This game was repeated over and over across the crest of the mountain.
      The little boy picked up speed as the downward slope increased. Pepper wanted to call out for him to slow down, but she couldn't speak. She panicked when she spotted him headed to a cliff that overlooked a mountain stream that coursed through the rocks and boulders below.
      She tried to cry out. But he didn’t seem to hear. It was as if she was not in the scene. She ran fast now. The stubble and pebbles of the hillside ground into her bare feet. The little boy was completely out of control. He stumbled down the steep hill toward the cliff. He yelled with fright.
      “Throw yourself down,” she cried.
      But the boy still ran.
      She reached the edge of the cliff at the same time as the boy. Pepper slowed to keep herself from plunging off the edge. The little boy lost his footing.
      “Mother,” he shrieked in panic. He stretched out his chubby arm.
      Pepper spun around to look for the boy’s mother. No one could be seen anywhere. When she turned back, the boy had slipped over the edge. She lunged to reach his hand, but felt only the finger tips that slipped through hers.
      With absolute terror in his eyes, the boy looked straight at Pepper. He wailed, “Mother!”
      The room was extremely dark. Her flannel gown was drenched with sweat, and the back of her head pounded with a deep, throbbing, mind-numbing pain. She knew her eyes were open, but she lay there for a long time trying to remember.
      Where am I?
      How did I get here?
      What happened to my head?
      Where’s April?
      Was there a fight? Did someone hit me with a chair?
      Stack? Where’s Stack. Why didn’t he pull them off me?
      Tap? Did I get shot? Was it Beckett? No, he’s dead.
      Where’s Tap?
      The boy. Oh, Lord. The little boy again. I still couldn’t save him. Lord, I couldn’t do anything about it. I really couldn’t! You’ve got to believe me. Please believe me.
      Pepper sobbed and real tears rolled off her cheeks. She reached up and felt bandages wrapped tight against her hair.
      Lord, why do I keep dreaming of that little boy? I don’t even know who he is.
      A dim light filtered through curtains of an extremely tall window.
      Oh, Lord, I don’t even know where I am.
      Pepper began to cry again. .
      Because of the intense pain.
      Because she felt alone and lost.
      Because the little boy had