The Wanted Man
By Matthew Pizzolato
A sharp gust blew a small whirlwind across the trail in front of the rider, who jerked his horse to a halt. A faint, indeterminate sound reached his ears.
After a moment, he flicked the reins and laughed. “Buck, we’ve been on the trail too long. Hearing things.”
Pulling the cork out of his canteen, he swallowed a mouthful of water and wiped his lips with the back of his hand while his eyes surveyed the landscape.
A red-tailed hawk banked on the wind currents, and the breeze rustled in the leaves of the brush beside the trail. Nothing else reached his ears.
The evening sun hung just above the horizon and cast its dull, orange glare across the land. He removed his black, flat-brimmed Stetson and beat some trail dust out of it against his leg.
The animal pranced a few steps farther along the trail, its hooves clicking on stone until it stopped and turned its head to the side with its ears twitching.
“What is it, boy?” He pulled a Winchester ’73 from the saddle scabbard.
A bone chilling, high-pitched scream echoed, causing the small hairs on the back of his neck to stand on end. Something struck him on the head, and he collapsed from the saddle as the echoes of the gunshot reverberated across the land.
The horse turned and sniffed at the man. Upon recognizing the scent of blood, it tossed its head and trotted off several paces. The animal stopped, glanced back and returned, prodding the fallen man with its muzzle. After a long moment, the horse turned and galloped away.
The sun beamed upon him as it dropped behind the horizon. Faint breaths from his nostrils made small puffs in the dust of the trail. Trickles of blood from the wound pooled beneath his head. Darkness began descending but even the chill of the night didn’t awaken him.
When the full moon began its journey across the sky, a small shape approached out of the darkness and bent over the fallen rider. A hand checked for his pulse and found a faint heartbeat. The figure turned the body over and struck a match.
The sudden burst of light caused his eyes to flare open. He blinked and the face of the woman before him came into focus.
Bruises that were mottled purples and yellows covered it. Smudges of dirt streaked her chin. Her right eye was swollen shut and blackened. Then the match went out and darkness returned.
A sharp wave of pain stabbed through his head, and he groaned in agony.
“You have to get up. I don’t have much time,” the woman said.
Moaning and blinking, with his thoughts still a jumbled mess that banged around his mind like seeds in a gourd, he turned over, got his arms underneath his body and pushed himself to his knees.
The woman caught him with an arm around his waist and bore the brunt of his weight as he struggled to his feet.
“Where’s my horse?”
“I caught him earlier; he’s just off the trail. Let’s get you to him.”
With halting steps, they made it to the animal and stopped while he sucked in air.
“Where are you taking me?” he asked.
“I know a place you can lay up for a while. It’s a small cave no one knows about but me. You’ll be safe there.”
“Why are you doing this?”
“I don’t like to see anyone die, not like this.”
“Thank you.” After several attempts, he got his foot into the stirrup and with her help, managed to crawl into the saddle.
“I’ll ride behind you to keep you from falling. I couldn’t risk getting my horse out of the corral earlier.”
“All right.” Extending a hand, he helped her climb up behind him. The feeling of her arms wrapping around him as she reached for the reins comforted him, and he allowed himself to relax. Gradually, his head lowered and he felt himself falling. The woman’s grip around him tightened, and his eyes flared open.
“Hold on to the saddle. We have a few miles left to go.”
Grabbing the saddle horn with both hands, he clutched it with a death grip. The moon illuminated the darkened landscape, and the stars shimmered overhead.
Balancing on the knife edge of consciousness, he managed to stay awake until the woman stopped the horse.
“Here we are. I’ll get down first.” She jumped off the back of the horse and hurried to catch him as he fell.
He got his first good look at her in the moonlight and was impressed. Her firm jaw line and small nose would be quite pretty minus all the bruises. A smattering of freckles dusted her cheekbones, and lovely blue eyes glinted at him.
“Who are you?” he asked.
Her eyes brightened and she smiled. “Just someone who wants to help.”
“But what is your name?”
Her brilliant smile faded. “Call me Sera.”
He nodded and the action sent a lightning bolt of pain through his skull. With an effort, he forced himself to focus. “My name is…” He blinked and his brow furrowed.
“Don’t worry about it. A bullet just glanced off your head.”
“But I can’t remember my name.”
“It will come back to you. You need some rest, and then we can worry about it tomorrow.”
With a scowl, he took a halting step toward the looming darkness of the cave. Sera threw an arm around his waist, steadying him. A fire burned in the far recesses of the cave, and oddly shaped shadows danced along the walls.
“Someone’s here?” he asked.
Sera shook her head. “I came here first and built the fire before it got dark.”
“Oh.”
With her help, he eased himself to the ground and found a bed already fashioned out of pine boughs.
Sera sat next him with some bandages in her hand and reached for the canteen. “Here, let me clean up that wound. Lie down.”
Easing his head down on the blankets, he closed his eyes and felt the cool water being poured onto his head. After a moment, the whole world faded away.
* * *
When his eyes opened the next morning, he stared at the rock ceiling, completely at a loss. His mind clicked suddenly and he remembered the night before, being shot and the woman helping him. With a groan, he sat up, felt gingerly of his head and discovered the fresh bandages that bound it.
“Sera?”
His voice echoed in the cave, but there was no answer. Where could she have gone? Then he recalled the bruises on her face and the black eye. She must live somewhere nearby and had to return. Did her husband abuse her?
Cursing bitterly, he shook his head, the effort making him dizzy. What kind of low down dirty skunk would hit a woman? As soon as he was on his feet, he’d have to see about getting her out of that situation. No woman deserved to be treated that way.
The gray light of dawn began trickling into the cave, indicating the oncoming day. Would Sera return?
He racked his brain, striving desperately to remember his name. Just when it seemed he was on the verge of recalling something, the thought would flutter away, only to return again and hang there agonizingly close.
Unfortunately, his whole existence began when Sera lit that match in his face; he couldn’t remember anything at all before that moment.
On sudden inspiration, he struggled to his feet and had to catch himself against the wall to keep from falling. His hands darted into his pockets, and he searched for some familiar object that would strike a chord. A spent cartridge casing with several matches inside, a small folding knife and a few coins did nothing to jar his memory. Cold despite the beads of sweat on his forehead, he shivered and wished she would return.
Checking inside his vest pocket, his hand struck something round and metallic. Withdrawing the object, he stared at it in awe, turning it over several times in his hand.
A silver star with a circle around it and the words “Texas Ranger” engraved on the bottom. He blinked, completely perplexed and returned the badge to his pocket. He was a Texas Ranger?
A sudden sharp pounding inside his skull convinced him to sit down next to the fire. Groaning in agony, he covered his face with both hands and massaged his forehead. Would the pain never end? Maybe eating something would help his body heal itself.
With a small limb, he poked and prodded the ashes until he discovered an ember. After coxing it to life, he soon had a small fire going and extended his hands over it.
Locating his saddlebags against the wall, he found a tin of beans that he opened and placed as close to the fire as possible. His stomach rumbled and his mouth began watering.
While the food heated, he lay back on his blankets, folded his hands behind his head and closed his eyes.
Another chill struck him.
He pulled a blanket over his chest until he grew hot and flung it away. It seemed like hours passed while he lay there, but when he checked his pocket watch, only fifteen minutes had elapsed.
With a sigh, he closed his eyes. A wave of nausea struck him, and he curled into the fetal position with both hands over his stomach and groaned. Unable to find a comfortable position, he drifted into a restless slumber filled with nightmares.
How long he lay there, he couldn’t say. It could have been days, or it could have been weeks. He remembered feeling a cool hand on his brow from time to time and being fed some kind of broth.
Then one day, the aroma of something cooking assailed his nostrils and aroused him. He sat up and looked around, blinking several times.
“Well, I didn’t think you would ever wake up.”
Turning around slowly so as not to jar his throbbing head, he spotted Sera standing at the entrance of the cave with both hands on her hips and her head cocked to the side.
“What’s that cooking?” he asked.
Sera approached the fire and removed the lid from a pot that hung over it. “Beef stew. I intended to come earlier but I just couldn’t get away. I’m sorry, you must be starving.”
“My stomach is gnawing at my backbone.” Had the bruises on her face faded? Or was the firelight playing tricks with his vision?
The sound of her laughter filled the cave, and her blue eyes sparkled when she looked at him. “It’s been a long time since I laughed. Thank you.”
“Yes ma’am. Least I could do.”
“Such a charmer.” Sera fluttered her eyelashes at him.
“What happened to your face?”
The smile vanished, and she stared into the pot. Several moments passed until he thought that she wasn’t going to answer.
“I fell.”
“Liar.”
Sera blinked and gazed up at him, but she didn’t raise a protest. Instead, she focused her attention on stirring the pot of stew. “Have you thought any more about who you are?”
“Yes ma’am, but I can’t remember anything. I found this though.” Reaching into his pocket, he flicked the badge to her, and she caught it deftly with one hand.
“You’re a Ranger?”
“I guess so.”
“Maybe you came out here for a reason. Were you trailing someone?”
“I don’t know.” He glanced toward the darkness in the back of the cave, trying to corral his thoughts.
“I really need to be getting back. I’ve been gone too long.”
Gulping quickly, he swallowed the bite in his mouth as a surge of anger filled him. Where did she have to go? Back to her no good husband? Instead of an angry retort, he nodded. “I understand. Thank you for all your help.”
“You’re welcome. I wish…”
“You wish what?”
“Never mind. I really should go now. I’ll come back when I can.”
“Sure.”
He looked down at the bowl and scooped another bite into his mouth. When he raised his head, he was alone. “Sera?”
His voice echoed in the cave, but there was no answer.
Lurching to his feet caused a sharp stab of pain to erupt inside his skull, eliciting a groan. The entire world began to spin and he dropped the stew. The bowl clattered on the rocky floor.
Heading for the cave entrance, he stumbled and extended an arm to catch himself on the wall but misjudged the distance, slipped and fell. His head slammed against a rock and bounced. Blackness descended upon him and for a long time, he lied unmoving.
* * *
Something cold and wet jarred him from unconsciousness. When his eyes opened, it took a moment for them to focus. With a start, he realized that he was gazing straight up the business end of a horses’ nostril.
“What is it, Buck?” Flicking his arm, he pushed the animal away. A sharp throbbing in his head caused him to feel of it with a gentle hand. Discovering the fresh bandages triggered a jolt of panic in his veins. Had he been shot?
Shoving himself to a sitting position, he found himself in the entrance of a cave. Vague memories flashed through his mind, like some half-forgotten dream. A pretty woman with long black hair who pervaded a sense of unbearable loneliness, and then a name flashed before him.
Sera.
Struggling to his feet, he reached inside his vest pocket for his badge but couldn’t find it. He mouthed a curse and stepped inside the cave. The sight of the fire with the pot hanging over it stopped him in his tracks, and he knew before he took the lid off that it would be beef stew.
After gathering his meager belongings, he saddled his horse and headed east. Judging by the landmarks, he wasn’t far from Tom Wilburn’s hideout. He’d approach carefully so as to get the drop on the man, disarm him and take him back to Texas. If Tom chose the hard way, well, that didn’t really matter.
As he rode, thoughts of the woman sifted through his mind and for whatever reason, he just couldn’t get rid of them.
A tendril of smoke that drifted lazily skyward caught his attention, so he slowed his horse and climbed from the saddle, tying the animal to a small shrub so that it could work itself free if he didn’t return.
Taking his time, he circled around toward where he had seen the column of smoke. Before long, a small dugout cabin situated against a small hill came into view. Slowly and carefully, he worked himself around the dugout until he commanded a view of the door. Then he eased into a comfortable position behind a pine tree and settled down to watch.
Half an hour later, the door opened and Tom Wilburn emerged carrying a basin of water.
A smile played with the corners of his mouth as he jacked a round into the chamber and fired a shot at Tom’s feet.
Tom dropped the basin and spun for the cabin, but stopped when another bullet struck the door.
“Hold it right there, Tom.”
The outlaw turned around with both hands in the air.
The Ranger stepped from behind the tree with his rifle at the ready.
“Who are you?” Tom asked.
“Jud Nelson, Texas Ranger. You’re under arrest for murder and horse theft.”
A slow smile spread across his face. “You’ll never get me all the way back to Texas.”
“I can always bury you out here, I’m not particular.”
“Is that so, Ranger?”
Jud smiled, aware that the man was stalling. Could he have a partner on the way back? “Unbuckle that gun belt, real careful like. I’m feeling a might on edge.”
Tom’s Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat. His long, deft fingers unfastened the buckle. As the gun belt fell from his hips, his right hand swept back, clutching the butt of his gun.
Jud cursed and squeezed the trigger. The bullet struck Tom high in the chest on his right side and half spun him around. Instead of falling, Tom jerked upright, extended his arms and backed away from something. “No! Go away. You can’t be real!”
Jud’s mouth fell open. Had the man gone insane?
“NO!” Tom’s head jerked to the side suddenly, and four bloody streaks appeared across his cheek. A gargling sound issued from his throat as he slumped to the ground.
Jud glanced around, unsure of what he’d just witnessed. He shook his head and approached the fallen outlaw.
Sightless eyes greeted him when he turned the body over.
Jud stepped back perplexed. The bullet wound shouldn’t have been fatal, yet the outlaw was dead; his enlarged tongue protruded from his mouth.
Jud swallowed hard and turned away, unable to look. He found a corral behind the dugout with two horses, turned one loose, and led the other around the cabin.
After loading the dead outlaw across it, he whistled a few times and was rewarded with the sound of pounding hooves. Buck rounded the cabin and trotted toward him.
“That’s a good boy.” Jud patted the animal on the shoulder and climbed into the saddle. As he swung the horse around, something metallic winked in the sunlight. Curious, he cantered toward the tree he’d taken shelter behind.
Slightly downhill from where he had hidden, a crude cross fashioned from two limbs protruded from the ground at the head of a mound of fresh earth.
Jud swallowed hard, stepped down from the saddle, and picked up his Ranger badge from the top of the mound. He stepped back and his mouth fell open when he read the word carved into the cross.
“Sera.” The woman who had helped him, nursed him back to health? Sera?
Thoughts and memories that he’d considered dreams fell into place and he remembered. He remembered everything. A cold chill washed over him, and goose pimples raised his flesh.
A feeling he had never experienced before tore through his body; his heart crumbled in his chest and his stomach turned over.
That scream he’d heard that night on the trail. Had that been…
Jud stood there for a long moment with his head hanging. A single tear crept from his eye and etched its way down his face. He clutched the badge in his fist and fell to his knees. “Sera. I’m so very sorry.”
Deep sobs of anguish racked his body, and tears rolled down his face. He placed his badge on top of the grave and pushed it several inches into the earth with his finger, smoothing over the disturbed area.
After a long time, Texas Ranger Jud Nelson climbed to his feet and turned away from the grave. With a heavy heart, he climbed into the saddle.
“Come on, Buck. Let’s get out of here.”
On a sudden whim, he stopped the animal and looked back. “Sera!”
Only the sound of his voice echoed back at him across the lonesome landscape.
