Texas True by Janet Dailey

colony. Hated by ranchers, the little rodents dug burrows that could trap and break the leg of a horse or cow.
    Beau shouted a warning. Seeing the danger, Will wheeled his mount hard to the left. For a split second everything seemed fine. Then, suddenly, it wasn’t.
    The horse shied, shrieked, and shot straight up, twisting in midair like a rodeo bronc. In a scene that took on the slow-motion quality of a nightmare, Will flew out of the saddle. One foot caught the stirrup, then slid free of the boot as he slammed to the ground, landing flat on his back. Unharmed, the terrified bay plunged through the brush, gaining distance with every bound.
    By now Beau was close enough to leap off his mount and race toward his brother. Will appeared dazed but he was moving, raising his head and shifting his legs.
    A dozen strides away, Beau heard Will utter a sharp grunt of pain. Twisting sideways on the ground, Will yanked out his holstered pistol and fired three low shots at something unseen on the far side of his legs. Bits of pink and gray exploded into the air.
    An instant later, Beau reached Will’s side. There in the dust, inches from Will’s leg, lay the bullet-riddled carcass of a diamondback rattlesnake, six feet long and as thick as a man’s forearm.
    Will’s face was tinged with gray. He slumped back onto one elbow. “Bastard got me, Beau,” he muttered, pointing to his thigh. “But I got him back.”
    Kicking the dead snake out of the way, Beau crouched next to his brother, his heart pounding and a sick knot forming in his stomach.
    He threw a shout over his shoulder for help, yanked out his pocketknife, opened it, and slashed the denim away from Will’s leg. The flesh was already swelling around the two deep red puncture wounds. Beau knew a rattler that size could inject a hefty dose of venom. More than enough to kill a man without prompt treatment.
    â€œBad, is it?” Will cursed through clenched teeth.
    â€œBad enough. Don’t try to talk. Just lie still.”
    Whipping off his bandana, he knotted it around Will’s thigh a few inches above the wound. It would need to be loosened every few minutes. A too-tight tourniquet could shut off the blood flow into the leg, doing more harm than good. And the old practice of cutting the flesh and sucking out the venom had also proven to be ineffective. The best course of action was to keep Will quiet and get him to a hospital; it was the only way to save Will’s leg, and maybe his life.
    Sky was the first to reach them. His cool blue eyes quickly took in the situation. He tossed Beau the canteen from his saddle. “Pour this on the bite. The nearest hospital’s in Lubbock. I’ll call for Life Flight.” He whipped out his cell phone and punched in 911.
    Beau helped Will sit up to keep his heart above his leg and slow the rise of the venom. Knowing the leg would swell, he cut off the rest of the pant leg and removed the sock. Will had lost the boot when the horse bucked him off.
    â€œSomebody better catch that damned horse.” Will’s jaw was clenched. He had to be in excruciating pain, but he was playing the tough guy, determined not to show it.
    â€œThe horse will be fine.” Beau used the water in Sky’s canteen to flush the wound. “Right now all that matters is getting you to the hospital.”
    Sky was still on the phone, speaking, then waiting and speaking again, his voice a low staccato.
    â€œMake sure they have antivenin,” Beau said. “He’s going to need it.”
    Sky asked a few more questions, ended the call, and shook his head. “A helicopter can be here in twenty minutes. But they’re out of antivenin. A new shipment’s coming in tomorrow.”
    Beau swore. The antidote for rattlesnake venom was most effective if given intravenously within the first couple of hours. Tomorrow could be too late. For all he knew, Will could be dead by then. “Try