Rusty felt himself being lifted from the saddle. Though the men tried to be gentle, there was no way to move him without causing the arrow to cut deeper into the flesh. They laid him on a blanket. With the point of a knife, Whitfield ripped a long slit in the leg of Rusty’s trousers. His hands carefully explored around the shaft. “It’s gone most of the way through. I can feel the point stickin’ out just a little on the underside. If we try to pull back on it, the head is liable to break loose and stay in there. Best thing is to shove it on through.”

Tanner’s voice was uncertain. “That’s liable to hurt a right smart.”

“But it’ll be over with before he can holler. You-all hold on to him.”

Rusty cried out in agony as Whitfield’s strong hands pushed the shaft, and the arrow cut the rest of the way through the leg. He must have fainted for a moment, because when he became conscious again, he saw Tanner fingering the bloodied arrowhead.

Whitfield said, “Now to pull out the shaft. Hold him again.”

Rusty felt a sharp pain, then the ground dropped away from under him. He was conscious of something being poured into the wound and wondering how anything wet could burn with such ferocity. Then there was a flash of fire, and consciousness left him altogether.

He had no sense of time, but he was aware that the sun was going down when he managed to open his eyes. He heard Tanner’s voice. He seemed to have heard it all during the time he had been unconscious, but he supposed that was hallucination. He felt a hard throbbing in his leg and a sense of severe burning.

Tanner was saying, “About time you quit lazin’ around and woke up to your responsibilities. You goin’ to sleep your life away?”

Rusty looked down at his leg, wrapped with cloth. “What did you-all do, set me afire?”

“We cauterized that wound. Ain’t but one way, and that’s with hot steel.” Tanner drew a bowie knife from a sheath on his belt, opposite the pistol he carried. “Heated this ‘til it glowed red. Probably took all the temper out. It won’t be much account from now on.”

“I’ll buy you another, if we ever get paid.”

Tanner shrugged. “We’re liable to be old and gray by then.” He reached into his pocket. “Here’s you a keepsake. You may want to use it for a watch fob.” He handed Rusty an arrowhead. Rusty knew it was the one that had gone through his leg.

“I don’t have a watch.”

“Maybe you won’t be a poor man all your life.”

Captain Whitfield stood over Rusty, hands on his broad hips. “I hope you shot the Indian who put that arrow in you.”