Under a Turquoise Sky by J. R. Roberts Page B

can’t leave me here,” Edwards said. “I’ll die.”
    â€œYou won’t die,” Chance said. “If you walk back the way we came, you’ll get to Kingman faster than you’d get to Beale Springs.”
    â€œGimme a gun, man,” he said. “There’s mountain lions out here.”
    â€œNo gun,” Clint said.
    â€œB-but…at least leave me some water.”
    Clint reached over and took the canteen from Edwards’s saddle. It felt half full. He tossed it to the man.
    â€œDrink sparingly,” he advised. To Markstein and Chance he said, “Let’s go.”

TWENTY-EIGHT
    When they had ridden along the trail a ways, Clint stopped so Markstein could ask his questions.
    â€œGo ahead, George,” Clint said.
    â€œHow do we get to the mine without getting killed?” the man asked. “And then once we get there—if we get there—how do we find out who hired someone to kill me?”
    â€œIs that all?” Clint asked.
    â€œFor now.”
    â€œI think Chance can help us with the first part,” Clint said. “We’re going to need that alternate route.”
    â€œDon’t forget I told you it might be blocked,” Chance said.
    â€œWe’ll deal with that if and when the time comes,” Clint said.
    â€œWhy not just go to Beale Springs and have it out with those men?” Markstein asked. “After all, you—” He stopped short.
    â€œI…what, George?” Clint asked.
    â€œWell, you are who you are.”
    â€œThat’s exactly why there are extra men waitin’ there,” Chance said. “And we only have that jasper’s word that there are only three. We could be walkin’ into a dozen guns.”
    â€œI see.”
    â€œDon’t worry,” Clint said. “Once we get to the mine, we’ll find out who’s putting up money to have you killed. After all, they’ve pretty much paid to have me and Chance killed, too. I don’t know about him, but that doesn’t sit well with me.”
    â€œMe, neither.”
    Clint looked at Chance and saw a trickle of blood come down from beneath his hat.
    â€œLet’s take care of that gash on your head,” he said. “We don’t want to leave a blood trail behind us.”
    â€œMay I step down as well?” Markstein asked as Clint and Chance dismounted.
    â€œYes,” Clint said, “step down and rest while I perform some first aid on our friend.”
    Markstein dismounted and walked around a bit, rubbing his butt with both hands.
    Chance took a seat on a boulder and Clint tore a shirt he’d found in Edwards’s saddlebags into strips.
    â€œIs that clean?” Chance asked. “He didn’t look too clean.”
    â€œIt’s a clean shirt,” Clint assured him, although he didn’t know for sure. He wasn’t about to smell it to find out.
    He wrapped some of the shirt around Chance’s head and then tied it off in a makeshift bandage.
    â€œYour hat will help keep it on,” Clint said.
    â€œThanks. Can I ask you somethin’?”
    â€œSure.”
    â€œWhy didn’t we just kill that fella instead of leavin’ him around?”
    â€œI don’t do things that way. Besides, he’s not going to get anywhere fast where he can hurt us.”
    â€œMaybe not.”
    Clint stood up.
    â€œWe’re going to have to get rid of his horse.”
    â€œI can unsaddle it now and let it loose,” Chance said, also standing.
    â€œNo, not yet,” Clint said. “Let’s get farther along. It might find its way back to him.”
    â€œGood point.”
    â€œHow long before we head off to your alternate route?”
    â€œI’m not sure,” Chance said. “We may have to wait ’til mornin’ if we don’t find it soon. I don’t know if we can navigate it in the dark. We don’t want a horse breakin’ its